PAGE TWO
MAROON AND GOLD
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1944
OWl'l
"Oh, don’t worry about us, sir . . . We’re ten feet away from the O’Kelly
monument.”
Maroon and Gold
Edited and printed at Elon College by students
7oumalism. Published bi-weekly during the college
year.
EDITORIAL STAFF
Mary Ellen McCants Editor
H. Reid Managing Editor
Martha McDaniel Associate Editor
Emerson Whatley Sports Editor
Edna Reitzel Associate Sports Editor
BUSINESS STAFF
Mary Coxe Business Manager
Margaret Rawls Circulation Manager
Charles R. McClure Faculty Adviser
NEWS EDITORS
Leon Gibbs Ida Marie Parker
Elizabeth Braddy Thomas Horner
SPORTS WRITERS *
John Rossi Bill McIntyre
PRODUCTION STAFF
Charles Brown Linotype Operator
Dr. Merton French Staff Photographer
Entered as second-class matter November 10, 1936,
at the post ®ffice at Elon College, N. C., under the Act
of Congress, March 3, 1879.
WT«0 rCfl NATMNAL AeVMTI*«M« W
NatioDal Adrertisiiig Service, Inc.
CMt* PtMishtrs KtpnieaMtim
4X0 Madison Avc. Nbw Ycmik. N. Y.
CMnmt • • im A—• tAfi rtAMwc*
Harvest Lanterns
Once a year, long about October, when the new
moon grows a golden halo and the blue haze of early
Indian summer blows over the horizon, the night hangs
out her harvest lights. They shine with a witching
clarity and calmness upon the fodder in the shock and
the wild turkey roosUng high; upon the yellow pump
kins in the field; upon the scarlet and gold of the
autunm woods; and upon farms yielding the rich return
of the summer’s labor. There are the days when sum
mer turns back to say a final goodbye; when migrating
birds bend their pinions in long flights to winter
quarters; and when you and I see the promise of
June fulfilled, and find the satisfacUon of Itnowing that
life Is good.
The hunter’s moon comes out, riding gold and fair
above. The stars lean a little nearer. The morning
glories still blow their purple bugles. The fairies seem
to dance in the still, white light. Even an old rail
fence or a cornfield scare-crow somehow becomes a
part of the magic and the enchantment. The sleeping
waters and the wandering possum and rabbit all partake
of this calm an dfinal benevolence of the year.
The lights without and the lights within—the
candles of the spirit—burn more brightly together.
Night, the shepherd herds the stars. Human hearts are
grateful. Peace comes upon hearth and hooie. In the
round of the seasons, all are beautiful, but none more
capable of bringing balm to Gilead than this time of
Harvest Lanterns. . -i. i
Bidnight Comes But
Twice A Year
One of the highlights of a college experience is
the time you get that invitation to join up with a fra
ternity or sorority. At Elon, two Saturday nights are
set aside for Bid Night and its celebration. This is
one of the great traditions; and, like the Mississippi—
Ole Man River—it just keeps rollin’ along. Old mem
bers come back. Birds of a feather flock together.
New bids come in. The assembly always makes for a
gay and gala occasion. It means food, songs, people,
and a sleepless night.
We shall miss the serenading done by the frater-
nitors in the pre-war years. But the same old spirit is
still with us—and with them. Some day, when the
Nazis are underground and the Rising Sons of the
Mikado have had their come-uppance, we’ll hear those
deep bass and high tenor and wild baritone voices
under the oaks again. But for 1944, chins up and Hail
to Bid Night!
Poet’s Corner
THE FAR SHORE
You think I am queer when I do not agree
That the place most enticing is home,
But I know you’re blind, or you surely could see
Why my aim must be always to roam.
The trees on each mounaintop beckon to me,
The shells on the beach hum refrains;
The plains give a promise of space vast and free,
And the skylines of towns flash bright names.
Each sea Is a challenge I have to accept—
The far shore seems fairer to me.
Each hill I must climb, though with laboring step,
Beyond there are new things to see! .
Y. HoMmao.-
New Books To Read
RECOMMENDED BY DR. HIRSCH
),.-v
Sean the New Book row on the main library desk
for other titles. The following have been recommend
ed by Dr. Hirsch for students of history.
THE MIRACLE OF AMERICA, by Andre Maurois.
This is a fascinating new work by the famous French
biographer and author of works on Shelley, Disraeli,
and Byron. For his own countrymen, who must now
rebuild a broken land, Maurois describes the develop
ment of our nation; how the pioneers transformed
ideals into working realities; democracy was establish
ed; obstacles were overcome; and the many races and
peoples of Europe became Americans, together found
ing the United States.
This work reads like a dramatic novel. The au
thor’s fine artistic and scholarly sense gives us a por
trayal of our own history through the eyes of a sympa
thetic, shrewd and talented Frenchman.
SHORT HISTORY OF THE CHINESE PEOPLE,
by L. Carrington Goodrich. A compact work by one of
the greatest of living authorities, the Professor of Chi
nese at Columbia University. Selected by Chinese
scholars in America as the best account of their civili
zation.
DOCUMENTS OF THE HISTORY EUROPE
SINCE 1918, by Walter C. Langsam. An amazing book.
The documents, without interpretation, speak for them
selves. From as for back as 1919, or as recently as 1940,
they reveal the facts concerning the Treaty of Versa
illes, the League of Nations, Great Britain and her Em
pire, Russia and Stalin, Germany and Hitler (nee
Schicklegruber). Here are the records of every im
portant part of the international triangle: the Wash
ington Naval Treaties of 1922, the Laval-Mussolinio
Agreements of 1935, the reports of the Moscow trials
of 1937, and much more.
RETURN OF THE TRAVELER, by Rex Warner. A
soldier slain in battle returns to ask “Why was I killed?”
Has been said to equal in depth and significance
Plato’s DIALOGUES. Without doubt one of the few
outstanding books of our time. What are they dying
for? What answers do we have? Do we have any at
all? A soul-stirring and thought-provoking book, one
that will remain when the vast turmoil of today has
ended.
Also recommended:
CITIES IN THE WILDERNESS, by Brideiitoaugh. ■
GROWTH OF AMERICAN THOUGHT, by Merle
Curti.
DER FUEHRER, by Heiden. Famous biography of
Adolph Schicklgruber. The low-down on a low-down
wretch.
These books and others, ordered for the reserve
shelf of the History Department, will be made available
to anyone upon request, providing the course require
ments permit. Let Mrs. Johnson and the library staff
be your guides to some happy adventures in reading.
Over The SKouldcr
By V. Q. T.
With that look that only a tired and bedraggled
editor could posses, she approached me. She said,
■•Please.” I said, “No.” etc., etc. . . . And that was
that! ... I said, "Yes.” So in spite of anything you
might try to do to stop me, it’s no use. SHE insisted.
Please, please, my dear friends (?), please try to un
derstand—I just had to writ* this colDBsn. (A« they
say in German. "Ain’t no telling what one would do for
a desperate ed )
Now then, “Chickens,” I’m no jive talker. Rather,
I would consider myself a bit of an intellect, such as
"intellects are these days, or wouldn’t you know? . . .
Just the other day I was talking to a high-brow and
was informed by the same that among the most valuable
books our library contains is the dictionary. So we
shall proceed to make this remarkable piece of litera
ture our topic for this session.
•
For instance, there are the words lie and lay.
(Pardon me, now, while I speak for a moment to tho^e
only who have mastered the English language.) Ue has
quite a variety of meanings. Let us look at in the light
of telling a tale. Who couldn’t. None of us would lie—
but that brings up another point. How in the heck can
you sleep if you don’t lie? 'Then, of course, th&re are
the clasis-sleepers who »ever lie, but then suppose
there’s a quiz. To get by they are forced to shoot the
bull, which we intelligencia consider a subdivision of
lying. Therefore, it would be necessary for us to con
clude that we all are lyars.
Now, in the case of lay, let us turn our minds to
poultry. Poultry are fouls and a fowl means you’re out,
so there you out, so that’s out.
But, back to lying, suppose we tell you that lying is
a form of exaggeration, or vice-versa. If this is true
(and who cares) when there could be no possible chance
of one’s confusing the words lie and lay. For it is clear
from my preceding explanations that a hen could not
possibly exaggerate an egg.
And that leaves us with the word exaggeration.
It is the biggest and most powerful word I know of.
(That, incidentally, is an exaggerated statement). But
to one who knows no better, exaggeration is accepted
as the truth, which is just the opposite from lying, and
now that we’re back where we started from, I feel 1
could go right on entertaining you for hours to come.
(That, my friends, is an example of a lie.)
Now is everything clear? Thank you for reading
(exaggeration again) and may you never be confused
again.
And, hey Roomie, wbcr’d you lie that box of
AspiriB? .
Things certainly were all fouled up at the Fair a
few nights ago ... or, to use an overquoted expreMion,
things were fowled up.
Getting to the wrong end of the deal .... The
cophomores in some of the girls’ dorms seem to be rul-
.Ing rowdily. That cute white paddle with a hole In it
seems to be serving its purpose. Jo Nelle may be
quoted.
The historical significance of Verdalee “Witch”
Norris dating Thomas Wolfe is appaling. That is not
all that is quite appawling.
Should there be anything on your mind, besides
a toupee, consult the Ouija board on the third floor of
West, we are told. This inanimate oracle is capable of
telling all, provided one knows- the answer before
band.
Sara Harris Is alleged to be carrying around a very
forlorn look as of late, the reason for which we are
to assume is the great len^h of time that must elapse
between now and Christmas. Obviously, she has not
taken into consideration the various Elon males, who
are known to be wonders at making time (fly).
SILVER WINGS IN THE MOONLIGHT is current
ly one of the top ranking favorites among the girls . . .
followed closely by SMOKE ON THE WATER, maybe?
John “Bunk” Sutton will soon leave to accept a
position with his rich uncle by the name of Samuel.
Elon will miss this well-known character, and it is
hoped that he will stay around as long as he is able.
Miss Shirley Sinclair slung a formal entertainment
last Sunday night in East. Interesting things were
served to equally as fascinating folks.
Is Mr. H. Reid going to be more conservative this
Fall than he was this Summer? What happened to his
surrealist ties? (Ed. Note; Since he bought some tee
shirts from Jo Po, he doesn’t wear ties any more). We
were'just wondering . . . noticed where Salvidor Dali
would handpaint one for only $200. (Ed. Note, Jr.:
Reid buys ’em for 25c at Kresge’s).
A Freshman red head has been complimented on ,
her dancing in West Dorm, among other things. Seems
she has a great talent for jitterbugging.
Numerous phone calls come from Graham to a
character referred to as Evelyn. The party who inserts
the jitney into the slot is not known . . . Who is he?
“Who is George?” “Sophomore, I must not tell a
lie;” Elinor Le Vine.
It has been debated whether it is Leon Gibbs’ good
looks or his car that win the wimmen’s heailts. Well,
they both get around quite a bit, and there are many
outstanding features that must be considered in determ
ining such a question.
Jack and Marie—“Twogether,” “The Same Old
Story,” “It Started All Over Again,” etc., etc.
The Freshman boys enjoyed the pajama parade
more than the upperclassmen, who were more wrapped
up in it. How ’bout that?
Carl White is getting chummy with Fred Register.
Fred Register is a ministerial student. Ministers per
form marriages. Carl White is also chummy, but in a
different manner, with a girl named Erma. There
fore, with the following established, we conclude that
Carl White is making good grades in biology.
Frances Pegram and Leigh Flinchum are walking
around, we are informed, with eyes as big as Pepsi-Cola
bottles. Maybe it is because of the Duke-Carolina Pre-
FBght game . . . and the Foot Ball (formal), with saany
a Bkidshipmao that follows.
Reid This
By H. REID
One upon a time there was an Elon student named
Carmen Lawngflannil (called “Red,” for short).
Most all of the boys went to the book store at night
and to the dances.
But not Red.
He was a Freshman. He had to shine a sophomore’s
shoes. Sometimes he would shine shoes until late at
night. When he finished shining shoes, he could not
go anywhere, because it would be eleven o’clock before
he completed bis labors.
One night, a ferocious upperclassman bad Red
straighten up his room.
“But I am going to the dance tonight at the
Social Hall,“ Red wailed.
The upperclassman would not listen, and threat
ened to bash Red’s bead with a large transparent con
tainer, the liquid contents of which had been emptied.
Red began sweeping, And straightening, “I wish
I could go to the dance,” be said.
Instantly there was a brilliant light In the room,
and Red saw a fairy, with a wand (and a nice head of
blonde hair, not to mention other favorable physical at
tributes.) "I,” exclaimed the fairy, "1 am a special
service provided by the SCA. Would you like to go to
the dance tonight?”
“Yes,” Red replied, “but I have much to do.”
“Hare m fears in regard t« eome, as that unsatis
factory situation can readily and easily be remedied,”
offered the Good One.
“That sounds very bodacious, but if 1 went, all of
those mean sophomores would b« dancing with all the
fair fowls.”
“Oase your worries, likewise” of the aforemen
tioned,” said the fairy. “Stay until eleven o’clock. I
will clean the room. Be sure to depart your parts from
the dance by eleven o’clock.”
The fairy waived her wand, and Red’s whole ap
pearance was changed from that of an ignorant looking
freshman to an ignorant lookkig sophomore, a vast
improvement and a boon to him, Red thought.
Everybody stopped dancing when the good look
ing sophomore perambulated in. He was the center of
attraction. He danced with Betty Blue, Virginia Powell,
Nuisance, Mary Lib Simpson, Paige Eaves, Helen Mor
ris, Bangle-babye, Bonnie Davis, Lib Scoggins, Dottie
Lamm, Shortie Smith, Lib Holland, Dot Williams, and
he sat one out with Verdalee Norris. z
He looked at the clock, and saw that it was about
three minutes until eleven.
“I must leave now,” he said to Faye Robinson.
“Of a certainty? We have just made each other’s
acquaintences only a few sixty second intervals passed ”
mused she. ’
By this time. Red was fleeing with utmost alacrity
down the Colonnades.
As fate had decreed, when he was zooming by the
well, he stumbled, and lost his shoe, the shoestring to
which had been loosened considerably while dancing
with Ins Boland. He had not the time to seek for said
covering for the pedestrianism apparatus.
And it came to pass that Virginia Ezell became
thirsty, and she carried herself to the well, where she
quenched her thirst and found Red’s shoe. It was saddle
shoe, a huge-tremendous affair. She thereupon began
to start a search for such a healthy specimen that might
fit into the shoe.
But Red had changed back into a minute freshman
and his shoes diminished accordingly. '
His lady fair, unknowingly, was all fouled up.
But Red learned of her plight by reading SNIP
AND SNOOP, and bought a saddle shoe that would
easily pass for a twin to the one he had lost, from
another sophomore, who sold such wearing apparel,
and he went around singing SHOE SHOE, BABY.
Bye and bye, the lady fair found Red, and it wasn't
long before they could go within ten feet of O’Kelly,
and they loved happily eyer aft*r. '