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May 19, 1967
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THE SALEMITE
Page Three
Literary Magazine Editor Receives Annual Dedicates Edition
Rondthaler Award For ‘The Clown’ Walter^R. Yarbrough
By Sarah Lynne Cobb
[Elizabeth Wilson clutched her
iark blue straw hat and white
doves in her hands as she followed
ler mama and daddy down the long
lall of the funeral home.
|A tall man in a dark suit edged
)Ut of one of the doors leading
|om the hall and walked toward
hem. He smiled at Elizabeth, then
^rned to Daddy. “Good afternoon,
fou’d like to see . . .?”
“Mrs. Wilson,” Daddy said.
The man pulled a list out of his
>reast pocket, ran his finger down
t. “This way, please.” He pointed
oward an elevator.
[Elizabeth took a giant step into
;he elevator so her heel wouldn’t
;et caught and cowered back in the
corner behind Mama. The elevator
jerked to a stop at the second floor.
Its doors opened noiselessly.
“Mrs. Wilson is reposing in room
number four, at the far end of the
hall,” the man said.
The hall was just like the one
downstairs: green carpeting, white
walls, and lots of doors on either
side of it. Elizabeth walked slowly
toward the door at the end of the
hall. Her hand, now held tightly
in her mother’s felt cold and wet.
She jerked it loose and wiped it on
her blue dress. ... I don’t want to
see Grandmother, she thought.
Mama said she’d look asleep and
peaceful. She was asleep when I
went to see her after her heart
attack, but she didn’t look peaceful.
-Dabney &* Janej-
(Continued from Page 1)
ind that look of “Don’t worry; I
|NOW these sophomores.”
|0f course, there are a few rude
shocks. The first time the fresh-
nan sees Dabney in her blue jeans
md/or lab coat, with the eternal
Sgarette and Coke, the image of
:he really neat, dressed-up person
vith that down-Eastern way of say-
,ng “about” is shattered. The se-
:dnd great “disillusionment” comes
luring an Orientation Session, when
:he freshman realizes that this
Honor Code business really does
vork and that it really is an un-
luestioned part of life at Salem,
fane doesn’t turn out to be an ogre,
ifter all; she’s very much concerned
:hat everyone have the right con
cept and understanding of what
Salem really is.
. ^That first endless stretch of time
passes until Thanksgiving vacation,
rhe freshman can’t possibly under
stand why the seniors are sad; you
enow, too much of a good thing,
ind all that. After all, it’s been
irears (at least!) since she’s seen
fer home town. She might not
Even remember what her parents
look like! Yet while she is home,
she talks about Salem with her
ffiends and comes to realize how
vital a part Dabney and Jane have
played in shaping the ideas and.
ideals that will cause her school to
go on in its traditions.
*When she talks about Student
Government, she isn’t consciously
lilking about Dabney Kelley. She
thinks first of the open and excel
lent relationship with the faculty,
and the interesting and hilarious
Student Government meetings; it is
only after a little private thought
that she comes to realize that Dab
ney is the person who made Stu
dent Government what it is for the
freshman’s first year. She comes
to appreciate and admire the mar
velous talent that made Student
Government “We,” not “Me, the
President.”
And maybe, if the freshman is
lucky, she’ll get to do some brag
ging about the Honor Tradition.
She must explain it to her friends,
then prove that it really does work
and is not hypocritical or a bunch
of nice-sounding words in the cata
logue placed there to impress par
ents. Once again, a vital part of
life at Salem and how it’s kept is
expressed in “We,” not “Me, the
Chairman.”
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Her mama and daddy had taken
Elizabeth and her brother Jimmy
to see her grandmother that Sun
day after she’d come home from the
hospital. The house was sunny in
side except for her grandmother’s
bedroom. It was dark because the
shades were down. The windows
were down, too, and the room
smelled like a closet or attic. The
roses and the potted chrysanthe
mum, partly wilted, added to the
musty odor.
Elizabeth tiptoed to the bedroom
where her grandmother was sleep
ing, in the middle of the bed, prop
ped up by three pillows. She stared
at her grandmother’s yellow face.
Her mouth was open, the lips wet,
and she snored as if she had a cold.
She woke up and stared at Eliza
beth—looked right at her. She
didn’t say anything, but raised her
hand off the covers. Elizabeth
stuck out her hand where her
grandmother could reach it. She
■just held it, didn’t squeeze it like
she usually did. Her hand was cold,
especially the fingers, and wet, too.
Elizabeth pulled hers loose. Her
grandmother’s fell limply onto the
bed.
Elizabeth wanted to go outside.
Where were Mama and Daddy ?
They told her to go on in, they’d
be in in a minute. She wanted to
go fly kites with her brother Jimmy,
to get out of the dark, musty room.
She started to kiss her grand
mother goodbye, but she was star
ing at the ceiling. Her mouth was
open and wet, her breathing heavy.
Elizabeth turned and ran out of the
Salem’s “man on the hall” was
the man in the spotlight today in
assembly. Walter R. Yarbrough,
Superintendent of Buildings and
Grounds, was honored with the
dedication of the 1967 Sights and
Insights.
Mr. Yarbrough and his assistants
are in charge of all the repairs and
building projects on the Salem cam
pus. He has been called upon to
build everything from the switch
board desk in the Fine Arts Center
to a coffin with handles that fall
off on cue, which he built for the
Pierrettes’ 1964 production of Oh
Dad. He also builds the flats and
props used by May Day and Pier
rettes. Just this week Mr. Yar
brough was recognized for his out
standing service to Pierrettes by
being awarded an honorary mem
bership into the Harlequins, the
honorary dramatic society.
Having been at Salem for 15
years, Mr. Yarbrough says he has
been very impressed wdth the vast
changes and improvements which
have been made during those years.
He remarked that these improve
ments, have reduced the number of
times that he has been called out
for middle-of-the-night emergen
cies. Years ago, he said, he spent
The more the freshman thinks
about these two people and the
closer the time to return approaches,
she gets to feeling just like she did
on the first day: scared. “If these
two are so much a part of Salem,
how come they don’t live on pedes
tals ? How come I talk to them ?
I’ve got to be crazy to even say
‘hello’ to people such as these.”
She return to campus with just a
few misgivings. A quick look into
Strong and the Student Center re
assures her. For, sure enough, the
jeans, cigarette, and Coke person
ality and pool shark who vies with
Miss Kirkland are there, the same
as the first day she met them—al
ways ready to help, always leading
Salem, always helping to form her
student body into a united group
that will last.
“Elizabeth, put on your hat, dear,”
her mother said. Elizabeth looked
up at the number four over the
door. Mechanically, she lifted the
straw hat to her head and popped
it down over her auburn hair, friz
zed after having been outside in the
hot air.
The room was crowded and full
of flowers—flowers on the walls, on
stands—the heavy odor making her
eyes water and her nose and throat
tickle. People dressed in dark colors
milled around. Aunt Martha and
Uncle Bob came up and kissed her
Mama and Daddy. Elizabeth grab
bed for her mother’s hand and
gazed at all the flowers, especially
a big crescent-shaped arrangement
of carnations across the room from
her. Though she looked straight
ahead, she saw, out of the corner
of her eye, an open coffin to her
(Continued on Page 4)
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Walter R. Yarbrough
the winter waiting for those inevi
table phone calls saying that the
boiler room had just blown up, or
that Clewell’s water pipes had ex
ploded and all the girls were
drowning.
Junior Hats Go
Up Into Flames
By Nancy Thomas
right.
Suddenly, her mother pulled her
in that direction. “She’ll look so
peaceful — just as if she were
asleep.”
“But I don’t want to look.”
“Come along, sweetheart. You
won’t miss her quite as much if
you do.”
Elizabeth stared at the open cas
ket, her grandmother’s body visible
from the waist up, her green dress
Covered by a white net-like veil.
She felt choked and hot now and
coughed. Her grandmother’s face
was like glass, cold white glass, or
wax, shiny yet powdery. The eye
lids were heavy and shut tight. The
pale lips, too, were closed tightly,
the mouth stern. The grey hair
was neat; she’d never seen it that
neat before. Everything was neat
—no wrinkles in her dress, no hairs
out of place. The petals of the or
chid on the green dress looked neat
and smooth.
She doesn’t look asleep. She
doesn’t move. She doesn’t even
stare at me . . .
“Don’t you want to kneel with
me?” Her mother pointed to a
kneeling cushion along side the sil
ver casket. “See how peaceful she
The juniors held their annual
Hatburning ceremony on the hockey
field at 6:30 p.m., Thursday, May
18.
The rules of Hatburning are
simple, yet significant. The juniors
wear paper hats on which are writ
ten all of their follies. They throw
these hats into the bonfires to sym
bolize the giving up of their follies.
The seniors, in turn, burn Blue
Books which signify the end of
their college days. Then the jun
iors accept the seniors’ robes, sym
bolizing the responsibility of being
a senior. The traditional singing
of the Alma Mater completes the
occasion.
To initiate last night’s ceremony
the juniors marched into the Refec
tory singing an original composition
based on the tune “With A Little
Bit of Luck,” taken from the
Broadway musical My Fair Lady.
During Hatburning, Senior Class
President Ann McMaster and the
rising Senior Class President Mar
tha Eubanks gave brief speeches
about the symbolism of Hatburning.
Following this, the juniors sang
“Are You Listening” to the seniors.
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