Page Two
THE POINTER
FEBRUARY 14, 1949
THE POINTER
Published by the Students of
High Point High School
Member National Scholastic Press Association
Editor-in-Chief
Associate Editor .
Managing Editor
Marilyn Robinette
Bill McGuinr
Allen Conrad
News Editors
Nancy Earle
Jean Stamey
Feature Editors
Joann White Lib Martin
Carolyn Andrews Bill Cecil
Sports Editor
Assistants
Allen Conrad Ann Shipwash
Photographer
Headliner
CoLDSTON Harris
Marty Burton
Scotty Cook
Jon Barnes
Jim Neely
Bill McCuinn
Dick Boyles
Allen Conrau
Jeanne Rigby
Typists Loma Garner
Gladys Linthicum
Barbara Tilson
Assistants Ann Wright
Advertising Manager
Ralph Brown
Walter Lee Gibson
Assistants
Carole Bock Betty Bowman
Circulation Manager
Wanda Kindley
Martha Neal
Assistants Gaynelle Ingle
Nancy Perryman
Toan Crowder
xicofni'ii k
Miss Eleanor Young
Mrs. Vera Walden
' Swe^et'
/lii44AAen>d.
“Here, draw a candy heart from the little, white bag and
read what’s written on it. Quick, give me your reply; now you cart
eat it. Oh, I’m not crazy; it’s just for the Pointer.’’ You remember'
those little colored hearts with a word or two printed on them
that always pop up around Valentine at Kress’s? Well, we bought
some just to make this article. Maybe you were one of the many
privileged characters who sampled the Pointer’s sweet hearts; but
if you weren’t, then here’s letting you in on their bitter answers—•
I
First Degree Murder
Pretty serious business, this first degree murder.
Crime doesn’t pay, never has, never will. And when
the crafty killer is caught (and he almost always
is) in the clutches of John Q. Law, capital punish
ment usually ensues—capital punishment for the
crime of killing, for disobeying the Sixth Command
ment. Yes, killing in any form brings thoughts of
destruction, waste, sadness.
Ever think about killing, though in less brutal
terms—like killing time? It’s the same black crime
with a little lighter tinge, and slightly different
punishment, yet still bearing those same character
istics of destruption, waste, and sadness.
Destruction? Destroying time is actually de
stroying a part of your life. The length of a human
life is as a drop in the ocean of humanity—“fifty-
cent words,’’ perhaps, but glaringly true.
Waste ? Many an hour-of-energy which could
have been spent in usefulness, doing something
creative or a task “put-off,” has been spent idly
by high schoolers.
The punishment? It will not be physical punish
ment, but the kind that makes for an idle mind,
one in which that gremlin called “Laziness” finds
itself a welcome visitor. It’s all sad because the
person who is an idle time-killer will someday wake
up suddenly, only to find that the surge of active
and utseful life has long-since passed him by on
the highway to happiness. That will be an evil
jolt, and perhaps the wotrst punishment of all.
So, a hint to the wise is you-know-what. Don’t
waste your time.
HOW LUCKY YOU ARE
How Lucky You Are! Yes, you! Here’s what
we mean,
Bronson Matney, an outstanding alumnus, who
recently appeared here on tour with the W.C.T.C.
quartet expressed deeply his feeling toward his
old Alma Mater, which was taken to heart by
many student body members.
The athletic teams or cheerleaders who have
visited every school in the Western Conference
and others can tell you that as far as a building
and facilities are concerned, they’ve seen very
few that can even compare with H.P.H.S. .
So, both, in material assets and in school spirit,
not to mention activities, H.P.H.S. ranks among
the top southern high schools.
But. . .
Just how many of us realize our good fortune
and take fair advantage of it all. For instance,
many students wanted candy sold at basketball
games. So they got it. Yet many of those “sweet
tooths” became sout before the game. Another
example. Quite a few school dances were held,
after repeated enthusiastic demands from students;
but when the eventful night rolled around, were
you there? Both are just little things perhaps—
too little to threaten that wonderful spirit of H.P.
H.S. loyalty, yet' discouraging incidents.
Who Sweet-heart said
Heywood Washburn “Smart guy”
The Bitter Answer
Washburn, not
Hop-
Pat Johnson
“Fireball”
Shirley Ray Gallimore
.lean Hayworth
Doug Poole
Peggy Clarke
A1 Roach
Nolan Brewer
Ruth Ellen Monroe
Robert Brady
Evelyn Nance
Jack Powell
Barbara Steele
Jim Neely
“You’re tops!”
“I love you”
“Sometime”
“True one”
“Nice boy”
“When”
“Not yet”
“Don’t tell”
“Please wait”
“Dance?”
“'Bad girl”
“Starry eyes”
“No love”
“Tell all!”
Jalopy With
A Personality
To begin with. Floozie is Charlie
Jones’s ’38 Model Ford, which is
definite proof that “Time Marches
On” and takes with it all the
beauty and smoothness of youth,
leaving behind only rattles and
broken-down batteries.
There is no conceivable disease
that Floozie hasn’t contracted.
She has a weak heart, which is
inclined to make her “conk out
anv time; her old eyes blink off
and on at irregular intervals: her
plump, round legs may be counted
on to deflate (in more common
language — blow out) very fre
quently.
Perhaps the worst of Floozie’s
faults is her uncontrollable tem
per. Once or twice she has be
come extremely exasperated be
cause the stoplight turned red
just before she reached it. No
matter how hard Charlie pumped
her brakes or Marilyn and Wheat
shouted “Whoa!” from the back
seat. Floozie refused to stop, and
flew right through the light.
It seems a shame after all these
years that ole Floozie should suf
fer from an inferiority complex,
but such has been her fate. Each
time she pulled up beside a shiny
new Buick she began to cough
and sputter. But after Charlie
climbed out, raised the hood, pat
ted her gently, and whispered
sweet nothings into her engine,
she was soon chugging merrily
up the street.
But Feb. 3 was a fateful day
for Floozie. Mr. Jones decided
that since she spent more time
in the hospital (Welch’s Garage)
than at home, it was time to dis
pense with her.
G’bye, Floozie.
“Name’s
kins.”
“My but this candy is fresh!”
“No truer words were ever
said. Miss Meador.”
“Why not now?”
“He better be!”
“Just ask any girl?”
“Hope it’s soon.”
“But, I’m working on it.”
“I won’t!”
“Dedicated to Perry.”
“Why dance?”
“I did it and I’m glad!”
“Only thing I can think of is
Paschal.”
“He’s a long way off!”
“Huh-uh!”
That’s A
JOKE, SON!
Ann; “In the days of lords and
vassals, what did they call the
vassal’s wife?”
Bob: 'Vaseline.”
“What shall I say about the two
peroxide blondes who made such
a fuss at the game last night?”
inquired the news reporter.
Editor: “Why, just say the
bleachers went wild.”
Science teacher: “Where do
bugs and other insects go in the
winter time?”
Bright Student: “Search me!”
“George, are you spitting in the
fish bowl?”
“No, Mother, but I’m coming
close.”
Here 'n* There
If you have noticed an added
brightness around these halls
lately, then you know that Polly
Carroll has come back to school
after an illness of five months.
Polly’s alluring smile, plus that
personality of hers, gives us good
reason to say, “Glad to have you
back.”
Now, even though we’ve gained
some students, they seem to be
outnumbered by those who have
departed. Jerry Bob and Charles
Byrd, recently moved to Green
ville, South Carolina; and I’ve
heard they like it pretty well; ex
cept Jerry Bob doesn’t like the
fact that Barbara’s up here and
he’s down there.
Also heading 'south a short
time ago was Mary Lee Church,
who went to Jacksonville, Flori
da, to work in a dress shop; and
Emily Callicutt, who left last
semester for Cannon, Georgia.
Uelaied 7a . . .
Jo Auman, Gladys Hall, and Nancy Jean Monroe
who certainly have done some excellent work on
our bulletin board, especially the Valentine scene.
Nolan Brewer who has been so faithful in taking j
Paul Conrad’s lunch to him each day.
Mrs. J.’s main office assistant, Mrs. Teague, who
is always there wearing that big smile on her
face and ever ready to help.
The Demolay boys who really had a big part
in the success of the March of dimes.
Our cafeteria cooks— Daisy, Isabelle, Annie,
Laura Mae, and Jordan for such wonderful food.
A special orchid to Mrs. Meeta Jackson, dietition,
and the student helpers.
Key Club for our high 'school directory. Es
pecially to Jerry Hester who has been the effi
cient head for two years.
“Bucket” Barnes and Nolan Brewer for their
peanut push down Main Street for the March of
Dimes. “One inch for only one dime!”
Mrs. Poston’s Delight
'ffiaesB’U
oo
I’ve been thinking—’course that’s unusual; but
with all the jabber-gabbers ’round this Pointer of
fice somebody’s gotta start thinking! The things
I’ve heard! . . 'Why, did you know that Boonie Davis
and Barbara Mabrey have been making weekly ex
cursions out to Oak Ridge to see what’re-their-
names? . . . And Pete Jones was actually seen
talking to a girl in Tower II the other day. . . I
just don’t know what the school’s coming to—it
was rumored that Coach iSimeon fou^id a lacy pet
ticoat in his office—my ears just turned red! Mari
lyn’s too. And to top it all, you) should hear the
story Nancy Lambeth tells about Jim Neely climb
ing a telephone pole in the dark and waving fran
tically—a futile attempt to catch a ride. . . There’s
cine thing puzzling me and that’s that three-cor
nered triangle made up of Bobby Baird, Ann Bain,
and John Story of G’boro. 'What I want to know
is why Bobby, with his wrestling experience,
doesn’t square it off! . . .
We might as well bring in this problem of styles
too. . . the latest fashion, from what I’ve heard,
is Rosie Beam’s detachable bangs—seeing is be
lieving. . . I predict that girls will soon be wearing
hoop skirts trimmed with buttons and bows o.;
“Margaret Pink” (original by Margaret Truman)
and displaying crew cuts beautified by Harry’s
Horae Permanent.
Such foolishness—guess I’d better get back to
thinkin’ . . . Excuse me while I concentrate and fill
up this pen with Pointer’s ink.
HEARTSTRINGS
FROM BEAUX
Perry MacDowell to Ruth Ellen
I love you, darling, but a little more I might
If I were sure you did my homework last night.
Bill Craig to Betty Clarke
It’s Valentine’s Day, and I’m moneyless—see?
So the Pointer put this in, just for us—free!
Dick Thompson to Joanne Ronk
I’ve been dropped short by Betty, Mary, and Sal:
Now, honey, I’m lonesome, so will you be my gal.
Clyde Garrison to Barbara T.
Roses are red, violets are blue;
I have red hair, and honey, so do you.
Kenneth to Lentz
Honey, does you love me? I don’t know, but maybe.
’Pell me. Tommy, is you is or ain’t my baby?
Mr. Heniford to “f”’ Students
I is your’n and you’uns is mine;
Let’s larn some English on Valentine.
Jack Steed to Betsy Chernault
I’d want you for my Valentine
If you were near at hand.
But now to stretch my love I need
A heart-shaped rubber band.
Bill Seckler to Grace Ann
It’s Monday, February 14, nineteen forty-nine.
To make this date complete, will you be my
Valentine ?
• • •
Attention^ He-Men!
What To Do With Cologne Given
To You For Presents
BY B. JON BOJANGLES
(Do you smell like a schmoe? When you breeze
into the roiom, do your friends start opening win
dows? Do you know which cologne to wear with
what? Don’t be half-safe! Let the Pointer’s Sas-
siety Editor show you how you can acquire that
Aromatic Appeal! Bojangles kno»vs perfumes. He
studies—he analyzes—he smells!)
Men, if you don’t know which alluring odor to
put on your facial features for the basketball
game or whatever, then that’s where I come in,
on all fours. Gather around and I shall reveal to
^ou the purpose they serve, which I now reveal:
KENNEL NO. 5—For men who hunt possums
with hounds. Rare, spicy, alluring. One whiff and
the hounds will chase you.
OLD HORSE COLLAR—Still another scent for
the sportsman’s set. 'Rich in that old leather smell
men are so mad for. Comes in amusing container
amusingly labeled Horse Liniment. Oddly enough
it is horse liniment. Wear with horse-blanket sport
coat.
MINER’S ARMPIT—For the hard-working type.
A sultry, haunting fragrance, good with overalls
and that smart new masculine shade. Dirt Brown.
NIGHT IN SING SING—Designed for politi
cians. Goes beautifully with stripes.
OLD CURRENCY—For the Wall Street, lotta
money type. A heavy blend of rare old paper
money. Wear it with that popular Wall Street
color Treasury Green.
EAU DE OH-LAY-HEE-HOO—For Swiss Moun
tain climbers and old goats. Comes in an amusing
wooden cask, each one personally delivered by a
St. Bernard.
Comes in a bottle, too.
EAU NUTS!—Smells like perfume. Comes in
a gay container amusingly shaped like a bottle.
Matter of fact it is a bottle.
FREE ON REQUEST!—Small Atomizer for
Little Squirts! ALSO Big Illustrated Booklet on
the 7 places* a Man Shou^l Wear Cologne!
* Drug stores, restaurants, basketball games,
movies, class plays, dances. Pointer office. (ED’S
NOTE: This writer is rancid.)