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M.ember North Carolina Collegiate Press Association
Founded by the Class of 1922
Published Weekly by the Students of Queens College.
Subscription Rate: $2.60 the Collegiate Year
Idrienne Levy Editor-in-Chief
Miss Laura Tillett Faculty Adviser
Mary Jane Hart, Betsy Hodges .Associate Editors
Lucy Hassell Feature Editor
Nancy Isenhour News Editor
Ruth Kilgo Music Editor
Alice McKenzie, Ruth King, Marian Miller, Julia Keys,
Alice McKenzie, Elsa Turner, Franz Rummel
Marjorie Imbody Business Manager
Norma Anderson Advertising Manager
Ruth Carter Circulation Manager
Dorothy Harms ....Collection Manager
Nancy Baker Typist
Lib Heard, Thelma Martin, Frances Bryan, Eleanor Lazenby,
Dot Mauldin, Polly Foglesong
Has The Blues
The Blues has the blues. Here it is Spring again, and the
editors for a new staff have just gone into office. Monday
afternoon there was supposed to have been a meeting for the
purpose of completely organizing a new staff. What happened?
simply the usual thing—three old members showed up and
two novices put in appearance. This clearly shows the attitude
of the student body in regard to its newspaper.
Plea after plea‘ has gone out to the student body for a
solution to this situation. The Blues work does take a great deal
of time and effort, but if there were a sufficiently large staff, no
one would be overburdened. There are many people who have
both the time and the talent for this and yet have never so much
as given the Blues staff a thought. Obviously this is a gross
breach of school spirit. How can the Blues ever expect to obtain
prestige on the level with other college publications with such
flagrant indifference on the part of the whole lethargic student
The Blues is an orphan. It has no home—not even a cubby
hole that it can call its own. The staff (such as it is) meets in
hallways, private homes or is chased from classroom to class
room. The Blues staff does not even own a paper file on which
to put incoming stories.
The Blues does not even own a typewriter—or even have
access to one—except at the discretion of the business depart
ment. There is not even a file of the back issues of the college’s
That is the state of affairs.
Every year the paper gives two prizes away to the freshman
and the sophomore doing the most consistent good work on the
paper. And every year there are almost no contestants—^in fact
the staff considers itself extremely lucky if there are even one
or two candidates for the prizes.
A campus publication is not to be the work or play toy of
one or two people. It must be a representative organ of the
student body’s opinions and wishes. Otherwise it is not serving
in its true functions and duties. From the evident unconcern of
the students, it might be suggested that Queens become Sleepy
Hollow—because there are evidendy a great many female Rip
There are to be three more issues of the Blues this year.
There remains as yet plenty of time in which to set up a fine
working staff that will put out a good paper next year. There is
plenty of time to find the Blues a permanent staff office, and to
help it gather essential equipment.
The question is — will the student body do anything about
Yes, the Blues has the Blues!
You know the story of Axis “dictatorship”—the
lesson is there for all to read: Schools and colleges
closed—or turned into breeding grounds for lies
Freedom of speech—verhoteni Freedom to
choose your friends—verhoteni “. . . AU you
need to learn is to oheyV^
Now they would attempt to put the yoke on us——on
you. It must not happen here I Whatever the
cost, the Axis must be smashed. Your part, as a
college student, is clear. You may not be behind
a gun today, but you can help today to give our
soldiers, sailors, and marines the weapons they
need for Victory.
Put your dimes and dollars into fighting uniform
now by buying United States Savings Bonds and
Stamps. You’ll help not only your country, but
yourself—because you are not asked to give your
money, but to lend it. You can start buying
Bonds by buying Savings Stamps for as little as 10
cents. Start buying today—and keep it up!
Save . . . and Save America
wTt h U. S. Savings BONDS'*" STAMPS
WE HAD A BLACKOUT
Guess where I am! You couldn’t — ever. I’m sitting on
a checkerboard quilt (predominantly purple—imagine!)
on the floor in the hall right outside my door. Louise
Greene (remember—we double-dated with her that time)
is across from me on a blanket, and all down the hall are
girls looking equally unusual, sitting on blankets and
surrounded by books to give the atmosphere of study, or
to catch the urge for penetration (if, perish the thought,
it should creep up and startle someone) before it might
Have you guessed yet? Then I’ll tell you. It’s a black
You see, several days ago, we were given sheets of paper
bearing the ominous title “Directions: In Case of Black
out.” It listed a half-dozen little items on keeping cool and
closing windows and doors after having collected enough
bedding to make the sojourn comfortable, and enough
stationery or books or the kind of letters you read parts
of to your roommate, to occupy you for a half-hour. Then,
settling ourselves outside the door to our room, we were
to await further happenings.
“Post this notice in a prominent place,” it said, so we
nailed it up over the lavatory and read it over endless
numbers of times while toothbrushlng and Lux-ing. “What
would the alarm siren be like?” we wondered. Thne every
body promptly forgot about the Momentous Occasion.
That is, until tonight. Suddenly, at exactly ten, there
was this simply horrible siren screaming down the road
and coming nearer and nearer. (Honestly, Tom, it was
enough to hang icycles on the bravest of hearts)!
“Gosh!” gasped my roommate. “What’s that?”
I don’t know what I answered; I wasn’t listening. Ex
cept that when my feet were once more co-operating with
my legs, she was already settled on a quilt in the hall
calling at me to hurry. All this time, the proctor was
gnashing her teeth and running up and down the hall
“Ssss-sh !”-ing everybody.
A minute more, and I was out, too—only to. find
Babs (my roommate) had done me a favor. From behind
her Good Housekeeping she handed me something.
“I didn’t think you’d want Thomas Douglas Maxton III
to get bombed,” she said, giving me your picture. Wasn’t
that thoughtful of her?
So here we sit, Tommy, and overhead we can hear
planes zooming around trying to spot a light and warn us
so that next time Charlotte will be completely out of
sight from the air. Inside here, everyone is laughing and
studying and writing letters as though nothing were
happening, knowing this is just a mock Black-out. But
I can’t help wondering, listening, pretending that it is all
real. What if it were not just play? What if these planes
were Japanese or German, would we be laughing then?
I think we would be afraid at first, hearing them above
us and knowing what they wanted to do to us and
all that we love. And then, very soon we would hear
other motors, with you and the others in the Air Corps, and
we would not be afraid any more, because you would not
The All-Clear is sounding like a giant sigh of relief.
That means we go back into the ruins. Only, aren’t we
glad that it’s just plaj’-ruins!
All my you-know-what,