Page Two
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®fje #uilfort>ian
Entered at Guilford College, N. C., as second class
matter under the act of Congress, August 24, 1912.
Published semi-monthly during the school year by
the students of Guilford College.
Edilor-in-Chief Harry L. Johnson, Jr.
Managing Editor Morton Salkind
Business Manager William L. Serog
Advertising Manager G. C. Lemmons, Jr.
Associate Editor Edward N. Post
Society Editor Betty Venable
Sports Editor Robert W. Payseur
Feature Editor Darrel Peeler
Circulation Managers Mary Alice Briggs, Jane Hockett
News Staff —Josh Crane, Lucy Leake, Jean Gravitt, Glenna Fulk,
Hollis Heissner, Barbara Tuttle, Joan Brookings, Bob Spencer,
Barbara Moss, William Utley, Bob Ralls.
Sports Staff Willis Fussell, Jr., Tom Evaul, Dot Cheek
Business Staff Carolyn Cornatzer, Betsy White
Photographers Paul Metzger, Carlisle Huckabee
Faculty Advisor Dorothy Lloyd Gilbert
Subscription Price SI.OO per year
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A Challenge
It has just begun. You who are graduating seniors are not
at the end, but at the end of the beginning. You have been
trained for many years, now, by those prepared to train you.
But your education must not stop now. Even if you are not
planning to attend a graduate school, you must and undoubt
edly will continue your education. For education is not just
something that comes from books. It is an experience which
lasts a lifetime.
However, it is one thing to let your education come fa you,
and an entirely different thing to go and get it for yourself.
We cannot live without getting some sort of an education.
But if we are really to enjoy life to its fullest, we must continue
the pursuit of knowledge. We must continue to look for the
new, and obtain an understanding of the old.
Our country is in desperate need of intelligent leaders in
every field. Many men are giving their lives for a free people.
They face death, because they know they are there so that
you may have that freedom of speech, religion, press, and
freedom from want that is our heritage. Yet, this freedom
cannot exist without able, God-fearing leaders. A peaceful
world is not an impossibility. At present, however, the picture
is grim. Dr. F. C. Shepard, formerly of this school, now at
the University of North Carolina, once said that as long as
two countries are calling each other names, there is nothing
to worry about. It is when they begin choosing their words,
being careful not to step on each other's toes, continued Dr.
Shepard, that the situation is serious.
If another world war comes, many men with keen brains
will die. Possibly, some of us here now will have to go. But
those of us who remain must use our intelligence, and work
for a wider understanding and a wider knowledge of the other
peoples of the world.
You who have completed your work within these old walls
have a challenge to meet. The wheels of the world must con
tinue to turn, regardless of how much they rust, or how much
they are damaged by the ravishes of war. It is your duty to
keep those wheels going. The future of the world depends
upon your continued work. You are not through . . . you have
just begun.
. . . For Thou Art With Me
With a world so uncertain, a future so full of doubt, we
feel that our humble words and blundering thoughts are great
ly inadequate to give hope to those who are in need of it. So,
to the graduates, the men who are wondering if and when they
may be called by their country, and to their wives, sweethearts
and families, go these words from the lips of one far wiser
than any of us shall ever be:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he
leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths
of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shad
ow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence
of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the
days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the
Lord for ever.
THE GUILFORDIAN
POST SCRIPTS
by EDWARD N. POST
"Time flies, art alone endures."
Darned if that statement isn't true
... we see it at this point more
than ever in our lives.
For us seniors time has really
flown the wings off our college
career. Although we faced comps,
speeches, finals and thesis troubles,
we loved it . . . when it was over,
of course; that's life. We seniors—
sometimes called freshmen with
darker beards and expert water
throwers—are supposed to have
absorbed a bit of that "art." Yet
not just the Mona Lisa, or whal
Sacrates or Chaucer said about this
or that, but something intangible—
how to live with our fellowman;
how to keep the ever-changing,
ever-climbing blood pressure below
the boiling point; how to joke and
be laughed at.
That's the art which should en
dure: the "art" which time will de
velop. This "art," like the paint
ing Mona Lisa, whose beauty in
tensifies with age, is hardly a ster
ile thing. It can intensify itself;
it has to develop . . .
This brings to mind an editorial
we scratched last commencement
time. It's title, "College Graduate."
In this we wanted to describe the
factors which help make the grad
uate. We came to the conclusion
that:
The World made the college
graduate, of course.
Whether a city or country young
ster, the sometimes cruel and other
times happy world influenced his
Destination Unknown . . .
■Bi® —7fr#c*~> A&&*±*jr iii!|||
Josh-N-Along
AGAIN . . .
It has come again: the saddest
of all glad times. Within the ivy
covered walls, beneath the stately,
shading trees, the inaudible yet
ever-present refrain majestically
resounds through the sacred Si
lence: "Hallowed be fair Guilford's
name . . .!" And under the porti
coes, down the halls, the faint,
haunting echo comes: . . old
Grads never die; they . . . just . . .
fade away . .
And the laughs you hear are
nervous and forced and hollow.
—Oh, it's the same old thing! It
happens every year. You have
seen them come and then be gone.
And it's always the same—and it's
always new—and it's always . . .
the saddest of all glad times . . .
REMEMBRANCE
But then, when they're gone—
what then? What of this clan so
recently called Seniors, so lately
called Grads. so soon called Alum
ni—what of them?
When passing years, strange
faces, and new friends have filled
their lives, what will they remem
ber? What will they remember—
of us—of the Guilford they now
love so dearly?
Will they remember the Thanks
giving dances and the trips to
personality and character. It aided
in his maturity, developed his fears
and resentments, joys and sorrows,
the experience of being bored, an
noyed or contented . . .
The College, of course.
Brought in as a high school grad
uate, the college set clear his road
to maturity which the world so
roughly advanced. The college
helped to develop his likes and dis
likes, whether these were in the
realm of athletics, literature or
music. The college helped him on
the road to success, by developing
an occupational skill, and offering
hi ranew outlets for his spare time.
Besides maybe sharpening his wit,
and taking him out of the world
of dreams it influenced him to look
at life objectively and not just with
the everyday egocentric attiude ...
The Faculty, of course.
Besides teaching other men's the
ories and ideas, they tried to teach
him to think without bias, and
solve the difficult situations which
life can present , . .
His Classmates, of course.
They, whether they were his
friends or enemies, gave him ad
vice. They offered him social out
lets and made him feel wanted.
The ytaught him to accept life as
it is, not try to change it to suit
him. His classmates helped tap
his way into prominence, instill in
him honesty, and influenced him to
challenge hate with love. Finally,
they had faith in him . . .
(Continued on Page Ten)
By JOSH CRANE
Hanging Rock? Or will they re
member the camp-fire worship ser
vices down in the pasture and
"Climbing Jacob's Ladder" under
the stars?
Will they remember the time
they put the cow in Founders? Or
will they recall what some chapel
speaker said one time about life
and living?
Will they remember the football
games, the basketball games, the
exciting baseball games? Or will
they sometimes think of the many
little things that they can recall
about this friend or that which
mark him as "Christian"?
Will they remember how they
used to gather in one of the rooms
in the dorm and sing the old, the
new Hillbilly, and sometimes the
"rough" songs with someone strum
ming on a guitar? Or will they
pause to think of how the choir
used to sing "Beautiful Savior"?
And just what have we given
them to remember Guilford by?
VALE!
We hope that they will remem
ber the good times, the best times,
the all too few little serious times
that really count—times that they
will need to remember—times that
will be of help to them . . .
So, goodbye—goodbye, dear old
friends . . .
May 19, 1951
The Spectator
By Darrell Peeler
It has been a good year—a won
derful year. For some of us, it is
the last year at Guilford, a year
that-used-to-be, a warm fond thing
to be treasured always.
It started off like any other "nor
mal" year. A hundred and sixty
two scared freshmen arrived one
week in mid-September and went
shakily through the receptions and
lectures. Later in the week the
upperclassmen flooded in, and after
the initial scramble things setled
down once more to a dull rorfr. It
looked like a good year—the dorms
were full, and the Indian summer
nights were fine for serenading and
for whatever else is pleasant to do
on warm nights.
There were the usual things—
rat courts and mothball races and
water fights and the scramble for
the freshman girls. We went to
work, then, in earnest, but there
was fun to be had—the Freshman
Dance; Homecoming; the night
when little Phil Feeney snatched
up his own fumble and dived across
and we beat the king of the small
colleges 21-20. Emory-Henry will
not soon forget that night, nor will
we. We were one jubilant crowd
of Quakers that night—the thrill
of a lifetime.
More games stand out, and hay
rides, and plays, and dances—Sadie
Hawkins day and the big Christmas
Dance. It seemed that the Korean
war would be over by Christmas.
But it wasn't.
In January we knew. We were
no longer fighting an isolated sum
mer-storm war. The hot war was
on and we were the firemen. Sec
ond semester we had forty less en
rollment. The guys were signing
up in bunches, and every day the
long envelopes with the thin sheets
of white paper came.
"You are hereby directed to re
port "
Nobody knew just what to do—
enlist or stay? The bull sessions
raged long hours, and the girls
walked a little closer to their guys
in the evenings. Nobody knew just
what to do—in troubled times no
body does—or seems to.
Spring came early, bringing an
easing of the tension, a feeling that
maybe, somehow, some way, things
would work out. We lost a few
more guys; there was talk of com
missions at the end if one could
only finish school. Coach Lentz
and Eddie Teague were called back
in, wiping out our coaching staff.
But we closed the ranks and things
went along as they normally would.
Spring brought with it the usual
rash of weddings and engagements
and the beginnings of new love,
and the rumble of war took second
place to theses and the spring play
and graduation. May Day, with its
loveliness, came and went, leaving
a memory like the memory of a
first orchid.
We suddenly realized that gradu
ation was only days off. and with
the realization came the sudden
pang of empathic loneliness for
those who have been so close.
Those flames of friendship will
never die. They, and not sooty
brick, are the heart and soul of
Guilford. The knowledge we have
shared and the loves we have
known are the body of Guilford,
the bone and sinew of the giant
Ideals, who will forever be our
servant and our master.
(Continued on Page Ten)
Letters...
April 29, 1951
Editor, The Guilfordian,
Dear Harry:
May I, through THE GUILFORDIAN,
express my most sincere and ap
preciative thanks to all who helped
so much in presenting the Spring
Play. I believe that those people
who saw the production will join
with me in complimenting the cast
and crew for the many long and
tedious hours demanded of them;
may I for my own part thank them
for their patience and endurance
with their director.
One other thing that pleased me
was the gratifying spirit of coopera
tion which was so predominant
among the college officials and the
faculty. Without their help and
forbearance the play would have
been just another play with a frame
work rather than the example of
college-student cooperative spirit
which I believe developed. What
I am trying to say, Harry, is that
I like to think that the production
accomplished so much more than
just what the audience saw on the
surface. So again may I express
my grateful thanks to those who
helped us in any way at all.
Sincerely,
William L. Kerr.