PAGE TWO
MAROON AND GOLD
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1946
Maroon and Gold
Edited and printed by students of Elon College.
Published bi-weekly during the college year, under
the auspices of the Board of Publication.
“Pity The Poor
Editor”
Behind The Mike
with WALLY MACK
Entered as second class matter at the Post Of
fice at Elon College, N. C., under the act of March
8, 1879. Delivered by mail, $1.50 the college year,
$.50 the quarter.
Editor A1 Burlingame
Business Manager D. B. Harrell
Ass’t Business Manager Mary Coxe
editorial board
Managing Editor Betty Benton
Associate Editor Verdalee Norris
Associate Editor Catherine Cooper
Feature Editor Salmons
Sports Editor Milford
business BOARD
Circulation Manager Virginia Ezell
Ass’t. Circulation Manager Hazel Cole
Adviser C- McClure
Photographer Williani Duncan
Assistant Photographer Holt Thornton
Printer Charles Brown
reporters
Jennings Berry, Jack Gregory, Clayton Tuck. Betty
Chilton, and Ed Moss
' PRESS MAN
John Watson
CIRCULATION ASSISTANT
Pat Steinmetz
~ ^ ^ORTS Writer
Alton Wright
■ COLUMNISTS
Louis Agresta, Bill Stafford, Dale Hensley. Edward
Ray Day, Wally Mack
' ' REPRESENTED FOR NATIONAL AOVBRTI9INO
National Advertising Service, Inc.
CoUege Publishers Kept eserMative
420 Madison Ave. New York. N. Y.
Cmicmo • Boston » Los aroslcs • Saw fmmciscc
Office—Room 1, Duke Science Building
THOUGHTS
We are always striving for things forbid
den, and coveting those denied us.
—Ovid, AMORUM.
Can one desire too much of a good thing?
—Shakespeare, AS YOU LIKE IT.
There are two tragedies in life. One is not
to get your heart's desire. The other is to get it.
—Bernard Shaw, MAN AND SUPERMAN.
The foolish man seeks happiness in the dis
tance; the wise grows it under his feet.
James Oppenheim, THE WISE.
Thesis On Man
(If there ai'e any bouquets or bombshells to be
tossed for this enlightening piece of literary nonsense,
throw ’em at Jack Snyder, who is responsible for its
turning up in the Maroon and Gold office).
MEN! Men are what women marry.
They have two hands, two feet, and sometimes two
■wives, but never more than one dollar or one idea at
one time. Like Turkish cigarettes, they ar# all made
of the same material; the cmly difference is that some
are better disguised than others.
Generally speaking, they may be divided into three
classes: bachelors, husbands, and widowers. A bach
elor is a negligible mass of obstinacy entirely sur
rounded by suspicion. Husbands are three types: prizes,
surprises, and consolation prizes. Making a husband
out of a man is one of the highest forms of plastic art
known to civilization. It requires science, sculpture,
common sense, faith, hope, and charity. Miostly char
ity. A widower is a man who kills his wife with kind-
jiess before she nags him to death.
It is a psychological marvel that a small, tender,
soft, violet-scented thing should enjoy kissing a big,
awkward, stubby-chinned, tobacco-smelling and bay-
rum-soaked creature like a man.
If you flatter a man. you frighten him to death. If
you permit him to make love to you, he gets tired of
you in the end. If you don’t, he gets tired of you in
the beginning.
If you believe in him, you cease to charm him. If
you believe all he tells you, he thinks you are a fool;
if you don’t, he thinks you are a cynic.
If you wear gay colors, rouge,, and a startling hat
he hesitates to take you out, but if you wear a little
brown beret and a tailor-made suit, he takes you out
and stares at a woman in gay rouge ami a startling hat.
If you join in the gaieties and approve of his drink
ing, he swears you are driving him to the devil. If
you don’t approve of his drinking and urge him te give
up his gaieties, he vows you are a snob.
If you are a clinging vine type, he doubts whether
you have a heart. If you are silly, he longs for a bright
mate; if you are brilliant and intellectual, he longs for
a playmate.
Man is just a worm in the dust. He comes along,
wiggles around for a while, and finally some chicken
gets him. ^ -
By the title, one might think that the folllowing dis
course is to be a lugubrious unfolding of the trials
and tribulations of a newspaper editor to the ears of
an indifferent world. It is to be nothing of the sort.
As a matter of fact, if the reader detects even the most
minute particle of lugubriousness in these lines, we
hereby bestow upon him the right to plant a substantial
kick on the posterior region of the editor’s trousers.
Once, we don’t know how long ago, some sympa
thetic soul originated the expression “Pity the poor
Indian.” Eventually,and we don’t know how, this evolv
ed into “Pity the poor EDITOR.” We don’t know, eith-
ei, whether this evolution was accidental or whether
the person responsible for the change had a malicious
twinkle in his eye, for anyone with any amount of im
agination might easily compare an editor with a wild,
cruel savage, dashing about on his daily chores like an
Indian on the warpath, chasing down copy like a be-
feathered brave who has imbibed too much firewater,
Of hunting down and scalping those paleface report
ers who don’t know the meaning of the word “dead
line,” using a keen-edged, caustic tongue as his toma
hawk.
Be that as it may, the lot of the “poor editor ’
isn’t always such a mournful one as some of them
would have you believe. Of course, there's plenty of
good, honest sweat involved in that lot, but not enough
to necessitate the pitying glances of fellow human be
ings or the sad shake of the head by a self-styled
sympathizer at the thought of his “be-fettered” editor
friend.
No, the truth of it is that the editor, the same as
any other normal working man, gets plenty of enjoy
ment out of his job. He might work under greater
pressure than some of the others, but to him comes the
opportunity of watching more closely the laughable
antics of the human puppetry jerked about on invisi
ble strings by the Master Puppeteer.
Ordinarily, the editor is a guy who can one min
ute listen to a friend’s hilarious anecdote abou-t his
cross-eyed brother-in-law, and the next turn around in
his chair and pound out a serious editorial on the world
situation; or one moment absorb the deep philosophies
of an eminent lecturer, and the next dash off a farcical
story about a man who lost his pants getting off a bus.
Yes, the editor has his share of the laughs, as well
as his serious moments. If he glowers beneath heavy
eyebrows, or fills the air with indigo invectives, seem
ingly at war with himself and everything else" in the
world, don’t be deceived by appearances—it’s just his
impatience to get things done, for an editor is always
one jump ahead of Time. When he bea'C> Time to the
deadline, then is his face wreathed in smiles; and he
leans back at his desk" no “poor” editor, or Indian,
but a man enriched by his latest contacts with the little
life stories that have trickled through his fingers dui'-
ing his moments of levity and sobriety, a man just as
much a “paleface” as his reporters.
Day By Day
Keyhole Peepings
Keyhole peeping has its adTantages, but let’s move
a little closer this time and get the real low-down. For
instance someone didn’t pull the blankets up over
her head on Halloween night, and the SPOOK caught
her—missing! Nobody likes a “stuffed shirt,” but the
situation is different when it’s a stuffed BED! ... Of
the four seasons in the year, Frances Parker seems to
like winter best, especially SNOW . . . After her physi
cal education period the other day, Betty Dalehite
walked into the Bookstore and told Phil that she
wanted to change her suit. Bill Alexander overheard
her request, and with a sly g*n said, “This is as good
a place as any.” . . . Comer is well satisfied with his
new roommate. You can’t blame him when you look
at the angles involved in the situation . . . Jane Warren
is an Elonite with personality plus. Hane you noticed
how she SPARK-les lately? . . . After Dick Tuttle
was asked to give an example of poetry or prose, he
began: “There was an old man who lived in a well.
If he isn’t there now, he must be in hey. Professor,
do you want poetry or prose?” ... Ed Griffin eats
with “Boots.” “Couldn’t find a better habit,” he says
. . . The campus lost a nice guy with the departure «f
A. R. Rives. The Lonely Hearts club has another mem
ber as a result of that departure . . . Have you noticed
the two maestros lately? Lucille and Mike, I mean.
While one gives out with “We Could Make Such Beau
tiful Music Together,” the other obliges with “Cuddle
Up a Little Closer. “Could Be” just plain “Love In
Bloom”? . . . Definition of a morgue: The Elon cam
pus on weekends. A weekly dance is a MUST!
PERSONAL: A whole bouquet of flowers to
Frances Branson for her excellent work as prompter
for “Junior Miss.” She’s our number one choice for
the Hall of Fame this week . . . Nancy Jordan and Fred
Yarborough were crowned King and Queen of Spook-
land at the Halloween party last Saturday. "Well, roy
alty is royalty,” sa^s Queen Nancy, as she rides away
on her broom . . . Both male and female hep-cats were
well represented at the Navy Band’s Monday matinee
performance. The joint was really jumping, especi
ally during the rendition of Artie Shaw’s “Concerto for
Clarinet.” . . . Have you read “Introduction to a
Theme” which appeared in the last issue of the Ma
roon and Gold? (Ye Editor calls it “Moron and Ghoul”)
If you want to know who penned the “Introduction,”
send a stamped and self-addressed envelope and the
phone number of any five-foot-three blonde. I’ll re
turn the stamp and the envelope with the name of the
author, but don’t expect to get the blonde back.
More dirt next time.
RAY.
The future holds greater promise than ever for
radio, and you get the best idea of radio’s future—and
your own—by considering radio’s present stars. With
this in mind, let’s take a look at a few of the airlanes’
top personalities.
* ♦ ♦ + *
To start the ball rolling, we’ve found that four
great guest stars, Humphrey Bogart, Red Skelton, Bob
Hope, and Jack Benny, will appear on Phil Baker’s
“Take It Or Leave It” during the show’s stay in ilolly-
wood this montlr.
Honey-voiced Vera Holly is adding a touch of love
liness to'the “Pot o’Gold“ with the return of that pro
gram to the air. Vera has been the featured singer in
many New York and Hollywood night clubs, as well as
on numerous broadcast attractions via Mutual Broad
casting System and WBBB during the summer months.
Happy Felton is comedian on the show, now heard
Wednesday nights on the ABC network. Felton is
former orchestra leader.
The wandering troubadour. Burl Ives, is now of
fering his usual brand of musical Americana in a new
weekly program over the Mutual Broadcasting Sys
tem. In the se ries, Ives will present many of the
300 folk melodies he has collected in his tramping
through all forty-eight states.
Ives starred in the. Broadway musical, “Sing Out,
Sweet Land,” and has appeared in several Hollywood
productions. Perhaps if you had your dial set on
an NBC station a few nights back, you heard him on
the Chesterfield Supper Club.
Abbott and Costello have opened their community
house for children in East Los Angeles and will soon
open others across the country.
The program “Hoagy Carmichael Sings ” has re
placed Jean Sablon on CBS, with Sablon scheduled to
begin a Saturday evening series.
if. if. ^ Hfi
One of life’s little ironies: When five of his Brook
lyn fans, three boys and two girls, came back stage to
see Charlie Spivak during his recent Paramount The
atre engagement in New York, the man with the “Sweet
est Trumpet in the World” little dreamed that he soon
would be getting their names on the dotted line. How
ever, during the course of the conversation, after the
kids had confessed their admiration for the maestro’s
music-making, they also stated they could sing, too.
Right then and there, the maestro auditioned them;
and their quintet harmonizing proved so melodious,
Spivak engaged them on the spot. As the “Star Dream
ers," they are now a regular feature with the band.
One of the rare instances when a record company
re-issued a hit disc within a comparatively short space
of time in answer to popular demand Erskine Haw
kins’ “After Hours,” featuring the piano brilliance of
Avery Parrish, is being brought out again this month
by RCA Victor. When the deep blue opus was first
released in 1940 it was an instantaneous smash. War
time shortages cut short its production, however, and
now the company can follow up on the past demand.
Other recent record releases you should pick up
on your next journey to B-Town are Andy Russell’s
version of “Pretending,” Matt Dennis singing Hoagy
Carmichael’s hit, “Ole Buttermilk Sky,” Hal Derwin
vocalizing with Frank DeVol's orchestra to the tune
of “The Old Lamplighter,” and lovely Margaret Whit
ing’s pressing of “Passe.” A 11 of these are Capitol re
cordings.
Science In The News
By BILL STAFFORD
BLOOD TRANSFUSIONS are a real danger in
the spreading of malaria, a recent case has proved.
A man who had been injured in an automobile accident
f.as given three transfusions. One of these donors was
a soldier who had served in the Pacific area for thir
teen months, taking atabrine daily duripg that time.
The soldier did not have malaria while overseas, but,
after his return, when he stopped taking atabriiae, he
had five or six attacks. The man receiving his blood
had never been in a malarial region, yet developed the
disease in December when the temperature was below
zero and when it was most unlikely for him to have con
tracted it in the usual way—by a mosquito bite.
The hospital personnel who examined the soldier’s
blood when he volunteered as a donor did not ask any
questions about malaria, having found no trace of the
disease in the specimen taken. Even a thin smear taken
after the patient developed malaria showed no ma
laria germ. This proves that a blood smear showing
no malarial bacteria is not proof that a person is free
from the “bug.” Some scientists have reported that
the germs can live for weeks in blood stored at near
freezing temperature.
Dr. Thomas B. Magath gives us two rules to ob
serve for the avoidance of transmitting malaria by
transfusion: 1. If the donor has been In a malarial
area and has had an attack of the disease, he should
not serve as a don6r for at least two years after leav
ing the zone. Before any donation, a thick smear of
blood should be examined and found to be negative.
2. If the donor has been in a malarial area and has not
had any attack for a year, he may donate his
blood if the smear does not show any parasites.
♦ • ♦ * ♦
FRESH MILK may help prevent cancer of the
liver, according to Dr. Hoch-Ligeti of the Royal Can
cer Hospital, London. Rats given fresh milk to drink
daily were protected to a considerable extent from the
development of liver tumors which the rodents get
when fed a cancer-causing dye. However, lack of milk
in the diet may not be the only cause of liver cancer
in man. Whatever it is In milk that protects the rats,
and maybe man, from the disease is not known; but ap
parently this unknown something is destroyed when
the milk is dried. This has been proved by experiments
carried out by Dr. Hoch-Ligeti, who intends to experi
ment further in an attempt to clear up the mystei* at
tached to the protecting effects of milk.
LITTLE
' ■■ "sit
LITTLE -BIW
This week we donate a bottle of liniment and a
giggle to Dr. Reddish, who has had a “crick” in his neck
for a whole week. Poor Dr. Reddish! The pain wasn't
a big worry, but explaining to his wife how his neck
got that way . . . well, that's another story!
Jo “Big Blonde” Watts and Bill "Brow-beaten'' Wil
liams haven't been speaking for five minutes becausa
of an argument. Bill says he didn’t say a word, but
Jo says, “No, but you were listening in a very aggres
sive way.”
Ever notice those R. S. V. P. eyes of Elaine Pace?
Appropriately voted vice (no hyphen, please!) pres
ident of the fresh (ditto) men, Dewey “Here I am girls.
Go craey!" Huffines thinks he is his own worst enemy.
Hal Not while I’m alive.
Suggested sign for Floyd “Man, whatta laugh"
Boyce and Bob “Hote " Barrett’s door in the Club House;
“The Grin and Barrett.”
Delmar “The Nose” Brown boasts that he is the
only guy Ground here who can ring a doorbell with
both hands full and not punch the thing with his knee.
* ♦ ♦ ♦
To The Class of 1962:
I never kiss,
1 never neck,
I never say, “H—1,”
1 never say, “Heck,”
I'm always good—
I’m always nice.
I play no poker,
I shake no dice,
I have no line—
Or funny tricks
But what dy’a expect—
I’m only six.
* * ♦ +
The remainder of this column is left to Jack Burch,
chief cheerleader, who has a few words to say to his
public concerning Homecoming. Take it away, Jacko!
“Well, I am not an English major and I can’t write
like Verdalee here, but what I’ve got to say I think I
can put across without too many words.
“Saturday is Elon’s Homecoming , . . the first in
live years, and there will be many old students here
for the first time in that many years. Everybody has
beard of Elon’s spirit in the pre-war years and we want
the Elon spirit of today to be just as good as the pre
war product. So come on out .everybody . . . and
Y-E“L“L! ! !”
* ♦ * ♦
(Editor’s note: We intercepted a message from
Verdalee to Dr. McClure, who promised to buy her a
drinlt if she got her copy in on time. It read: “Dr.
* drink to revive A1—he’ll
probably need it.” Verdalee.)
Poet’s Column
MY GUIDING STAB
I know not where Thy castle stands.
Or where to search for Thee,
Thou raay’st be wand’ring mid strange landi
Far, far beyond the sea;
But wherever there are pleading hands.
There will Thy mercy be.
When I behold a laughing child.
Upon his mother’s’ knee;
Or see the beauty of the wild,
Unlocked by nature’s key;
I think of Thee, Oh Infant Child,
Who died to make men free.
And when Thou seest fit to impart
Thy knock upon my door,
I’ll open wide my humbfe heart
To Thee, my Lord, once more.
While Thou wilt set my soul apart.
To journey to Thy shore.
—Alex Schiffelbian.
College Humor
Muril Hughes was tearing along the highway in
his rattle trap Model “A,” when a state patrolman
caught up with him and motioned him to pull over t»
the side of the road.
“Well, speed demon,” the cop asked with an air of
resignation, expecting the usual tearful story, "what’s
the hurry?”
“Want to get home,” replied Muril brightly, “be
fore I have an accident.”
♦ ♦ * ♦
“There goes one of my pifpils,” a certain professor
said, as his glass eye rolled down the sink.