Friday, March 5. 1943.
THE SALEMITE
Page Three.
Women of the Week
MAEGARET LEINBACH
Over sixty-five inches a lady, and
■one hundred per cent a real music
ian! Margs^ret is the portrayal of
■what I used to think a typical Sal-
emite ■would be—a modest, immac
ulate, mannerly, musical Moravian.
1 have learned since that she is not
typical, for few of us are so tal-
■ented as she.
She doesn’t scream" hey” at you
from half-way across the campus;
but she waits until she meets you
■—then softly, but (heerily greets
you with a hearty “hello.” Her
greeting is carried by her sincere
eyes rather than by her voice. I
shouldn’t call her lively (unless on
the hockey field or at the piano),
but she is certainly alive.
Music comes first, but Margaret
has many majors—among them,
German club presidency, hockey
Varsity, and Salemite music edit
ing. Members of the Choral En
semble testify that she has been a
Very efficient business manager.
Perhaps Margaret’s greatest as
sets are her fleet fingers. She de
lights us in chapel and in music
?iour with piano performances
which we rate next to Dean Var-
dell’s among all on Salem campus.
are glad that her’s is usually
the last number on music hour pro
grams, because she always makes
Us reluctant to leave.
Margaret Is an excellent accom
panist and in this capacity brought
fame to herself and to Salem at
the Berkshire Conservatory of Mu
sic last summer. She is interested
in composition and in opera also.
Her willingness to share her abil
ity by performing whenever asked
(if you catch her during an o£E
moment) makes her a favorite
among her classmates and all mu
sic students. Also very domestic—
Margaret frequently entertains at
her home, and is really a charming
tostess.
We usually associate her with the
classics, but judging by _^the insig-
aia which she wears—could her
theme song be that of the Army
Air Corps?
MAEY LUCY BAYNES
Mary Lucy! Of course you know
her! She is that little girl who
lopes along with her head and
shoulders leaning forward; her
hands in her pockets; and a face
full of gaiety, sunshine and laugh
ter which seem to make the very
air brighter. Yes, she is that
Sophomore who comes to class meet
ings and says not a word until she
gets good and mad. Then she be
gins—and .before you know it, ev
eryone is agreeing wijth her; so
she seittles back down with her
cheeks a little pinker, her eyes a
little brighter, and her smile as
quiet as ever.
Uh huh, you probably did see her
in the record room; for she loves
music, poetry, art, literature, and
even Latin too. No, she isn’t ma
joring in English any more. She
changed to a Home Ec course, be
cause she wanted to see what it was
like—and she is sticking with it.
Is she good in sports? Of
course she is! She was one of
the main “goal getters” in the
hockey tournament. Basketball,
archery, tennis—she knows them all.
But that comes from spending most
of her afternoons (when she isn’t
cooking or sewing, up some concoc
tion) in the gym. Yes, ma-am, she’s
a good sport in every thing.
Know her? Well, it’s doubtful
i^ anyone ever really knows her. It
isn’t until after the bull session
that you realize you have done all
of the talking and Mary Lucy all
the listening. Yet she can talk—
and does. She enjoys a good argu
ment, but she rarely gets mad or
worked up over it.
We could go on and on, but you
should find her for yourself—^you
will find her anywhere, for she is
a part of everything. She wiU be
come a part of you, too, ■with her
contagious smile and sunny hair—
and her sunny heart.
DCIEMIE
The substances of what we think
Tho born in tought must live in
ink.
All some people learn from ex
perience is, that they have made
another mistake.
When you first looked at this I’ll
bet you thought it a poem.
But now you should know it isn’t.
Isn’t it funny how people keep on
reading
Even if they know they are being
fooled?
TIME OF LENT
You friends, who late on pan
cakes far’d
Por fasting now must be pre
par’d,
’Cause ’tis the holy time of
Lent,
Of all your sins you must re
pent.
And you will find your time
well spent.
—Williamsburg Calendar.
CORONA CAPERS
A story:
Once there was a good girl with
plenty of The wildest game she
played was tit-tat-toe, thus She
was tan from being out under the ©
aU day, and she took cod liver oil.
Her legs looked like this ! I.
Her yocnger sister rode around
on her bicycle, thus @@- She even
went horse back ridng. Her legs
looked like this ( ).
However, her older sister started
out every nite on beer and pretzels
&&&&&. $he spent a lotta dough
rolling dice :and she ended up at
bars leaning like this / spouting
loose talk @%&$”%** saying
“Here’s how!” Just before she
began seeing looked
like this )(.
Now wipe that silly grin off your
face and take a look at yours.
—Duke Chfonical.
laililHIIIIBIIIIH
With the acute shortage of man
power around the campus this week
end we’re wondering just what the
out-come of Jr.-Sr. will be. First
he’s coming, then he’s not. That’s
all one has heard since last week
this time.
It seems that Davidson is really
gonna declare a holiday for this big
Salem week-end. But, sad as it is,
Carolina chose this time to shove
exams on thQ boys.
As to any snaking, wolfing, or
any other mild names you would
like to add, well Martha will be on
the lookout and will let you know
next week.
By the way, will someone please
pull STONEY out of those pink
clouds that she seems to be float
ing on. But of course we can’t
blame her—BOOTS is tops on this
campus.
And then there’s COOTIE thrown
into the dephths of despair. And
why not? Didn’t George go to the
army Wednesday?
MOTT rings up another one for
the week. You know, that little
er, ah, joke, shall we call it, about
Wilbo’s going to the army this
week.
The surprise came for DOEIS C.
and LIND this week, when, in an
swer to their letters to State for
this week?end, they were asked
down there. Naturally, they ac
cepted the invitation.
One junior that we won’t see this
week-end will be SEVILLE—she’s
going home for an extended week
end, if you know what I mean. Yes,
Ed will be home.
SIS SHELTON’S bud of ro
mance (Jimmy Walker) is really
blossoming into a nasturtium of
love. (Quoted from her real date’s
letter—Billy Webb).
JULIA GAKEETT may be off to
the University of Tennessee. But
then Julia’s never sure till the last
minute.
Those freshmen who are not
privileged to go to Jr.-Sr. are find
ing other things to do such as SO
NORA and BET HANCOCK, who
are going to State. Biddy Cress,
tho’ among those classed “privi
leged,” is also going to State.
What with the armed forces tak
ing over every college except Sa
lem, we think -w«’lj (transfer to
Winthrop.
SOUTHERN BELLE RINOS OUT
(Anonymous)
To Henry:
With a son in the U. S. Army
A grandson in the air,
And two blue stars on my service flag
My heart can’t be free from care.
But I’m proud of both son and grandson,
Who are brave and loyal and true.
And my job is to keep my chin up.
And be brave and loyal too.
t
For mothers, wives and grandmothers
War is always a heart-breaking thing.
But we know our men must fight on and on
Uintil what is right shall win.
Hoping that some day it wiU all be over
And this old world be ruled by peace,
When fighting wiU not be necessary
And wars forever shall cease.
—Mofjier Strong.
For sandals, and oxfords, and wedgies, and pumps,
For aU kinds of shoes I’ve a passion,
But now I am down in the dis-amal dumps,
For all kinds of shoes are on ration.
I could live without coffee, and butter and sweets
Forever (almost) and a day
But I’v'a got to have something to wear on my feets
That is silly and foolish and gay.
My red shoes are awfully worn at the heels,
■ My green shoes are loose at tho vamp,
My black shoes are now needing several “New Deals”
And my oxfords look just like a tramp!
My sandals all trimmed with silver and gold,
Were danced upon right at the toe.
Oh, the winter is long and the winter is cold
And I will be out in the snow—
With some sensibl,e utterly sensible shoes
On my large galosh-covered feet,
I will dream of exciting creations—the news
Of tomorrow’s shoe shops on Main Street!
—Margaret Vardell.
LENS FEAST
Mr. and Mrs. K. K. Kaye of Uno-
■ where, B. C., announce the mar
riage of their daughter. May, to
Mr. B. B. Bee of Beeville.
The marriage took place in the
Little Chapel Around the Bend.
The bride wore a creamed colored,
satin-trimmed dress of old lace
(perhaps it should have been arse
nic). Pisplaying an unusual amount
of originality, she had her dress
made as a two-piece suit and split
up to the knees in front. She wore
three dozen dahlias in her hair and
carried a tiny bunch of violets as
her .bouquet. She wore a ddinty
pair of half-soled saddle shoes on
her feet. She entered to the
strains of “Anchors Away” on the
arm of her father, who accidentally
stumbled. He was replaced by the
bride’s uncle, however, and the cere
mony continued.
The bride was attended by twelve
of her classmates who wore green
satin dresses with green fingernail
polish and lipstick to match.
A reception was held immediately
after the ceremony at the home of
the parents of the bride. The wed
ding cake was cut and beer and
pretzels were served.
Mrs. Bee was graduated from
Bitter Thorn College. She was
president of the Women Fire Fight
ing Association and vice-president
of her sorority, Rho Damit Eho.
Mr. Bee was not without distinc
tion at Nostra Donna — as he grad
uated. He was an ardent botanist
and was particularly interested in
the ■wild oats division of plant life.
After a brief honeymoon, the
couple will make their home in
Tumbleweed, India, where the bride
groom is an extinguished engineer.
(By Sarah Merritt)
“Watch the birdie-e-e-” but this
time the birdie is Mr. Campbell,
who is heading one of the new de
fense cocrses. To be exact, this
new subject is somewhat of a vege
table soup combination of courses
under one title—Photography. Be
sides mixing tripods, chemical acids
and bases, converging lens, and .bits
of home ec principals about gelatin,
there are chunks of physics, dia
phragms, and mathematical equa
tions floating over the heads of the
students. ’ ’
Some of the terms have proved to
have dichotomic interpretations.
Certainly the class could rightly be
called the “circle of confusion,”
although Mr. Campbell claims it
concerns light rays or something. It
only takes a little common sense
to understand some of the expres
sions. The “converging lens” of a
camera is very much like Hatti Me
Daniel in that it is thickest in the
middle; the opposite, “the diverg
ing lens,” might resemble Scarlet
O’Hara in that it is thinnest in the
middle. The moral is that “they
produce opposite effects.”
There is more about this subject
under the topic on “Curvature of
the Field,” only it was listed as a
defect in the book. The text was
not entirely ,wrong in its list of
faults, especially when it mentioned
the “barrel-shaped distortion.” (It
did not, however, include a diet to
remedy this.) One section, evident
ly for the stylist, contains informa
tion on “overexposure” and “un
derexposure. ’ ’
Another thought-provoking arti
cle heading, “Developing Tech
nique,” does pertain to darkroom
technique, but unluckily deals with
pyrogallol, metol and hydroquinone.
Maybe Mr. Campbell is not taking
it literally, .because once he stated:
“I can’t take care of but six girls
in the darkroom at one time.”
In spite of implications, there
really is a (serious side to this new
class. Understanding terms from
“spherical aberration” to “para-
phenylenediamine” also goes paral
lel with looking at Mr. Campbell’s
lantern-slideS and learning to ad
just all the little gadgets on the
camera before taking the picture.
(Personally, I’ll take a Bro^wnie
camera so I won’t have to learn
all this.) In the darkroom—the
most popular mental suggestion in
FISH TAIL
(By Margaret Bullock.)
“A dogfish?” I shrieked. “How
does one go about interviewing un-
romantic beasts like . that?” But
editors are unfeeling creatures—the
assignment remained: “Interview
a dogfish, Bulloch!”
So I nonchalantly wended my
way to Park Hall, and fished out
of jars what remained of “onee
upon a time a good fish.” (I may
as well tell you now that dog fishes
are fishes—^not dogs) I gingerly
observed the flnless, gill-less, liver-
less, skinless, brainless, earless,
sympathetic looking carcass — and
wondered was it possible that this
thing could have been whole once.
Anyhow he had definitely seen bet
ter days—-days before it met Mr.
Fop-Quiz Campbell.
After rinsing off the pickled fish
sufficiently (or what I thought was
sufficiently), I slapped him on a
tray. I looked long moments at
the poor woe-begone, Squalus Acan-
thias; and wondered what I could
say to make him feel better—so I
said “Hello.” lie just gazed up
at me from those hollow holes in
his head and didn’t say much of
anything—except to call my atten
tion to that oblong slit where hia
digestive system used to have been.
Tears started rolling down my
cheeks. What a pitiful sight! What
a sad state! How cruel it was to
rob this poor helpless fish of his
life in order that I might practice
butchery with his body.
Tears Hooded 8ver my cheeks now
at an even faster pace. Why, was
I turning sentimentalist? Why
should I care for a poor dog fish
with no brains, no digestive tract,
no nervous system, not even any
fins? I didn’t—but the formalde
hyde was killing me!
thinking of a course in photogra
phy — developing negatives and
printing pictures is to be the next
classwork—can’t wait!
ENGRAVED •
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Calling Cards — Stationery
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632 W. FOURTH STREET
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We Also Dye Shoes Any Color
“Best In Our Line”
Prompt Call and Delivery Service
219 W. 4th St. DIAL 4901
When you’re down town, come in and enjoy delicious
foods ill a comfortable booth at the
422 N. Cherry St.
Between the Bus Station and the Robert E. Lee Hotel