Friday, February 20, 1942.
THE SALEMITE
Pape Three.
9 9i
Beyond all doubt the most hilarious circus that’s been
on this campus in many a day was put on by the Juniors and
Seniors last Monday — time: 1:30 — place: old chapel —
occasion: to dance or not to dance? Everybody stood up and
spouted off about how ridiculous everybody else’s opinions
were. Many tempers were lost, and many people revealed
themselves in their true light — Babe Bralower recited her
last week’s editorial — Coco MeKenzie stood practically in a
class all her own by making sense — Margaret Leinbach ad
vocated still more confusion by three sets of votes — Dot Mc
Lean pulled an excellent Mark Antony. But the very high
spot of the day was hit by one Miss Casserole who, face red
and arms waving, popped to her feet and shrieked down a
suggestion for secret ballot. “SECRET BALIjiOT!” she cried,
“We’ll NOT have secret ballot! If we believe a thing hard
enough, we can STAND UP for it!!!” Thus voting against
Jr.-Sr. took place with a show of hands — only eight of them.
And after all that stink, too!
Frankly this business of clapping for a religious speaker
is about to floor most of us — it simply goes agin the grain!
Isn’t it possible to show our appreciation without all those
whistling an carrying on demonstrations? If we’ve got a lot
of stored up steam, we can get it out of our systems more ap
propriately at the State than in chapel.
Then there’s the tale al)out the lass who was studying
in the tub for a philosophy quiz. Somehow, it seems, the book
got all envolved with the water; and the lady in question was
next seen dripping over an ironing board — pressing each
page as she read it.
There are a few of us who would really like to know
just what grudge the laundry people are holding against us.
It’s always breathtaking suspense, upon getting our laundry
back, to untangle our clothes and find out which of our favorite
shirts they’ve chosen for jerking buttons off and ripping
sleeves out. But the most fun of all is anxiously tearing into
our laundry bags to see just which articles they’ve picked out
to leave unwashed. It’s wonderful — especially that slip they
returned to me this week pressed into a hard, round wad.
P. S. —-I forgot to say that Junior-Senior will be waged
— on the eighteenth of April!
COMIC VALENTINES
(And the arrow through these
hearts is sharpenedl).
To Ceil and Mary:
The South has long preserved tra
ditions,
The which to mar will earn per
ditions;
Do not continue such a fallacy:
‘ ‘ DO NOT DISTUHB’s’ ’ ruin
hospitality.
A Subtle Plea to the Faculty:
Though students have asked the
same questions for decades
There’s a wee chance we’ll vary
(in ego wo bask):
riease don't answer questions you
know wo are asking,
But listen and answer the ques
tions we ask!
To Turner, Goldberg, Seville, and a
few hundred others we could
name but won’t:
• I
It dbesn’t require a good deal of
perception
To know your aversion to brooms;
But wouldn’t you once make a
minor exception
And manage to tidy your rooms?
To the Seniors: (Last but not
least!).
Seniors lend! is a well-know fact,
but spare
A moment, gang, the problem is:
lead wlieref
Tlie “ Y’s.” in dutch — to the
rescue all! — A pity
The fartherest lag behinds re
side in Bitty . . .
COLLEGE FASHION SURVEY
The college girl and her sweater-
skirt ensemble is fast becoming as
traditionally American as the cow
boy, his boots and saddles, DESIGN
FOR LIVING’S C. B. I. (campus
bureau of investigation) agents re
ported today.
College women spend 75 per cent
of their waking hours in a sweater-
skirt outfit, they further elaborated.
Cardigan or slipover, long or short
sleeves, “ V ” or- crew necklines, one
rule is steadfast — sweaters must
be plain.
Querying co-eds at Cornell, Tem
ple, U. of Syracuse, Bryn Mawr,
Texas U., Smith, TJ. of Vermont,
Oregon State, Michigan State, Iowa
State, IT. of Colorado, Kansas State,
Iowa U., and Barnard, C. B. I.
agents discovered that Miss Aver
age College Girl spends $240.33 a
year on clothes. Texas beauties,
however, have the fattest pocket-
books — they spend $768.
Campus feet arc the same as ever
in saddle shoes. But moccasins are
owned by 50 per cent of the girls.
Saddles, pumps and the Cinderella
“evening” slipper complete a collo-
gian’s shoe shelf.
The stocking shortage or the
troublesome “nick” in nylons, is no
concern of DFL’S Young Modern.^.
They cut stocking bills in half by
l)aring legs in ankle socks despite
wintry blasts. A good number of
the girls call time out from pi-
^riotic “bundling” 'to knit their
socks. The average college girl,
however, vetoed the knee length
type now on the market. Only 6
per cent wore them. Twenty-six
per cent rate the rubber bot func
tional and sensible for rainy cam
puses.
Dickeys are definitely “in,” but
big hats collect dust on closet
shelves. Bandanas, beanies, hods,
baseball skullies, calots, stocking
caps, pill boxes, baby bonnets, be
rets and ear muffs are “in the
know’,” C. B. I. agents reported.
They noted, in addition, that
southern lasses are all for the ef
feminate formal, while eastern and
north western college gals rate the
dinner gown and evening skirt-
sweater combine, “super duper.”
The Shelf Behind
The Door
Interesting things came to light
as wo cleaned this week (as when
do fhey notf) There’s a nasty
rumor around for instance that Stel
la said no to Jonathan because . . .
well because . . . ,but anyway she
gave the Swift gentleman the go
by. (Even wo have to draw the
line somewhere about what we can
print and get away with!) Take
Sara Henry for instance, that’s al
ways safe, Sara’s the little gal
who came off with five boxes of
Valentine Candy! An unsuspected
glamour girl in our midst — bet
even Betty Corden couldn’t beat
that record. And in the opposite
extreme we heard Mary Tenille
casually drop a remark about hav
ing compeition — and from a wom
an of forty. Wow! “Happy” Sink
left yesterday for Rutgers, so ex
cited she could hardly see straight.
Is ho the steel-eyed brunette hang
ing on the wall. Happy? The one
you’re so. “Platonic” about?
Seville is planning a big week-end
for herself — and with Stoney’s
man — it seems that Boots will be
in Statesville and maybe Pat too.
The “sargent” doesn’t seem wor
ried though — maybe this is one of
those ideal friendships you hear
about.
VVonder why the Presbyterian
girls are so anxious to go to church
on S’undays now? Couldn’t bo any
thing to do with the handsome Dr.
Mauze who’s a recent fixture there,
could it?
What’s happened to that Crow-
Campbell romance we’ve heard so
much about a few weeks back. And
while we’re on the subject of fac
ulty — there are plenty of people
who’ll be glad to see Mr. Holder
back at Salem permanently. We
saw him in the dining room Sunday.
Normie, did you run into a door
or what?
Bobbie seemed a little disappoint
ed in her blind date. She’d been
told she had a wolf —• and he didn’t
even hold her hand —' and after
getting all ready for a struggle tool
Traynham gets our vote for the
most rabid Spivak fan on campu.s.
She and her pals parked herself
down at the show for four hours.
And Bralower’s ambition is to take
over the show, baud and all. Band
leader Bralower — how’s that for
billing.
NOTICE
A black velvet evening wrap
with 'a bunny I'ur hood, belonging
to Frances Crowell has been mis
placed. Frances has the one that
was gotten by mistake. Anyone
knowing the whero'abouts of the
evening wrap, jilease see Frances
Crowell, Alice Clewell, Hoom 331.
RADIO PROGRAM
Saturday
L'lOO P. M. —
XBC Metroj>olitan 0[>era Com
pany presents Aida.
5:00 P. M. —
CBS Syni])honic Concert.
9:00 P. M. —
Hit Parade.
9:30 P.M. —
NBC Symphony Orchestra.
Sunday
3:00 P.M. —
CBS Now York I’hilharmonic
Concert.
3:1.') P.M. —
H. V. Kaltenborn.
4:.30 P. M. ■—
CBS, The Pause That Refreshes,
Albert iS’paulding.
5:00 P.M. —
CBS, Family Hour, Gladys
Swarthout, Deems Taylor.
9:00 P. M. —
CBS, Ford Sunday Evening Hour,
Eugene Normandy.
10:00 P.M. —
CBS, Take It Or Leave It.
Husband: Darling, this steak
tastes like burnt leather.
'.Vife: My, what strung things
you’ve eaten in your life!
Watch for the Little Red
Man,
SANCTUARY IN THE MODERN
MANNER
Allegro
(Flippantly to you
.)
I have my back against the wall
that’s true,
And life perhaps is more than I had
thought
To fight, a foe that days and hours
renew,
Displays his skill with tricks I’ve
not been taught.
IIP doesn’t know, of course, that if
I won,
It's easy terms I’d make and be
content,
(I want so little — and so much!)
but none
lie couldn’t grant with ease and
small repent.
Yet wo shall go on fighting, he and
I,
Honor’s involved and he will not be
beat;
I for my own poor will and private
lie
Find somehow strength to fight —
but if retreat
Seem more in order at my back a
breath
Of cool dark air consoles — there’s
always death.
WHY?
Ring out the glad tidings! Ring
them out! Let every boll peal -on
this glorious day, February 20, 1942.
Whistles shrilled mighty blasts.
Horns honked. Trolley cars trollyed
down the tracks. In unison build
ings bowed their approval. Every
one was ushering in this long-expec
ted day.
Midst this pleased environment
throngs lined the streets. Salem
College suspended classes to cele
brate the occasion. For once the
entire student body was experionc
ing 100% co-operation.
People, exchanging quick glances,
began muttering all sorts of un
answerable questions. “What is this
unique sight that everybody’s an-
ticipatin’? Why is everybody ga
ping at the passing spectacle?”
Everyone knew the Salem College
orchestra, after two minutes of con
sultation had agreed to play for the
event. It seemed to bo as anxious
as the rest.
The musicians, clad in their gym
suits, added the “Joseph coat” ef
fect to the scene. This greatly en
hanced the beauty of the gaudy fes>
tival.
Next in the proces.sion appeared
the most joyful of all creatures the
students of Salem. Wlien the band
swung out“ Flat Foot Kloogio” the
Salemites trucked up and down 4th
Street shouting: “I gan ya a ham
bone las’ week.” They felt the free
dom of convicts whoso chains had
been undamped ... A terriltic bur
den had been lifted fronv their
chests.
A flag-bedecked hearse, distin
guished by a sciteaniing siron, fol
lowed the students. The driver,
zig-/agging from side to side, sped
thru the streets. On each side of
the vehicle this sign was plastered:
I’UHLIC MENACE WITHIN. GUAB
YOUH NEIGHBOR AM) .10I.V
THE FUN.
Everyone along the way was
tripping the light fantastic. There
was laughter mirth, and gloe. Weep
ing, gloom, and melancholy did not
prevail here.
But WHY??? Just this — it was
February 20 — Katherine Manning
was dead.
The glossy ibis, never before
noted north of Florida, was found
this srtison at Orton Lake, North
Carolina.
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