PAGE TWO
MAROON AND GOLD
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 5, 1945
Maroon and Gold
Edited and printed by students of Elon College.
Published bi-weekly during the college year, under
the auspices of the Board of Publication.
Entered as second class matter at the Post Of
fice at Elon College, N. C., under the act of March
8, 1879. Delivered by mail, $1.50 the college year,
$.50 the quarter.
Editor A1 Burlingame
Business Manager D. B. Harrell
Ass’t Business Manager Mary Coxe
EDITORIAL BOARD
Managing Editor Betty Benton
Associate Editor Verdalee Norris
Aseoclate Editor Catherine Cooper
Feature Editor Dot Salmons
BUSINESS BOARD
Circulation Manager Virginia Ezell
Ass’t. Circulation Manager Hazel Cole
Adviser C. R. McClure
Photographer George Bullock
Printer Charles Brown
REPORTERS
Jennings B#rry, Jack Gregory, Carolyn Tuck, and
Betty Chilton
PRESS MAN
John Watson
CIRCULATION ASSISTANT
Pat Steinmetz
SPORTS WRITERS ‘
Ed Moss, Steve Platt, Jim Widenhouse, Alton Wright
COLUMNISTS
Louis Agresta, Bill Stafford, Dale Hensley, Ed
Mulford, Edward Ray Day, Bill Williams
MPWCWNT8D rOR NATIONAL ADVBMTISINO •>
National Advertising Service, Inc.
CoUegt PuiUshtrt Represematite ^
420 MADieoN Ave. New York. N. Y.
CaiCAao • BoiToii • ux aiisclu • Sim fiiaiicim»
Office—Room 1, Duke Science Building
Jhoiujhiii
Picnics
The only way to have a friend is to be one,
Ralph Waldo Emerson.
There is nothing that people bear more im
patiently, or forgive less, than contempt; and
an injury is much sooner forgotten than an in
sult.
Lord Chesterfield.
Moderation is the silken string running
through the pearl-chain of all virtues.
—Thomas Fuller.
Sink Or Swim
A college student who is content with merely “get
ting by” is like a “man overboard” who doesn’t have
sense enough to care about anything but remaining
afloat, in the hope that someone will come along and
rescue him. He is interested only in keeping his nose
above the water, not realizing that he might safely
reach the nearby shore of personal achievement by set
ting forth with bold, purj/oseful strokes. Or pernaps,
viewing the shore, he is afraid to make the swim be
cause of the treaclierous undertow—^failure—which lies
between him and the goal. His feeble will compels
him to follow the line of least resistance—he clings to
the passing debris of convenience and comfort, making
of them a life-raft with which he drifts aimlessly upon
tlie sea of Time, until, waterlogged, the raft sinks be
neath the waves and carries him with it to his ignomin
ious fate.
SomiB college students, like the hapless man over
board, don’t realize that they possess “muscles” strong
enough to puU them to shore. They pass their subjects
as close to the margin and with as little effort as they
can afford, never making the attempt to comprehend
completely either the subjects or their own purpose in
taking them. They maintain the lackadaisical attitude
that college is just an interesting or convenient place
in which to spend the time between high school and
finding a job; they never take an active part in cam
pus affairs, and learn next to nothing during their
wasted years of college life.
Of cour.«e, there are some students, like ourself,
who are born imbeciles and couldn’t learn anything if
they wanted; but this editorial deals only with those
who have the inherent ability and do nothing about
it. Why don’t they flex their muscles then, if they’ve'"
got them? A little serious effort and a “C” might
become magically transformed into a “B”; greater ef
fort, and a “B” into an “A.”
We don’t mean that the student should give up all
of his social life and recreation in order to bring these
miracles to pass—there’s room in college for both work
and relaxation—we’re merely insisting that he try his
best by proportioning his time fairly and by seeking to
develop whatever talents he might own. Certainly, not
everyone can succeed; but, In a way, he too is a suc
cess who can look his conscience in the eye and say: “I
tried.” ■ ' ■
Gee, but picnics ara, fun! There couldn’t be a
nicer way to spend a bright, sunshiny afternoon than
to set out with a big basket of food, a thermos jug
filled to the brim with something cool to drink, and
a companion or two to share your blissful adventures.
Your destination could be a shady glen in the nearby
forest, the grassy shore of a lazy stream, a windblown
hilltop looking dowh on the picturesque and peaceful
valley, or perhaps 'sjjflie other “secret” sport away
from the serious humdrum of everyday Ufe.
A good thing about picnics, too, is that age knows
no limitations for them—everybody from pink-cheeked
baby sister to shiny-pated grandpa welcomes these lit
tle reunions with Nature, come ants, poison sumac, or
mad bulls.
When we were kids, one of our favorite picnicking
places was a romantic spot in the woods high on the
Palisades, across the Hudson River from New York
City. Some hardy pioneer had built a “cabin” among
a group of large boulders jutting from the ground in
a small clearing. He had laid a roof of logs across
the space between two of the largest rocks, covering
the logs with foliage and matting it down with earth,
until the interior presented a dark, cave-like retreat
where the boys could play “Trappers and Indians,” or
where Mom could keep fresh the devilled eggs, the
tomato and lettuce, jelly, or chicken salad sandwiches,
pickles, olives, and other good things, until the time
arrived for them to be devoured by the hungry pack.
There was a handy little fireplace, too, where we
could toast marshmallows or roast hot dogs or “mick-
eys,” and sometimes we would fry bacon over the low
flames.
What made "Boulder Cabin” the best picnicking
spot in the world to us kids, though, was the thought
that only we, ourselves, knew how to find the retreat
over the obscure wooded trail which led us to it, for
we were never bothered there by any other picnickers
or campers in all our delightful visits.
And that’s the secret of real picnicking enjoyment:
A secluded haunt where you can satisfy a hearty appe
tite, reminisce with a few close friends, and sit back
to watch Nature in all its beauty!
Science In The News
By BILL STAFFORD
The United States Chemical Warfare service has
developed a new super-deadly poison, the most potent
known to man. It is an innocent-looking crystalline
toxin, so powerful that a cubic inch of it—roughly, an
ounce—could kill every person living in this country
and Canada, silently and swiftly.
Man prays that World War III will never come;
but if it should, it will be a war in which most of us
may die from unseen, insidious, anti-human weapons
that make no sound, give no warning, destroy no forts
or ships or cities, but can wipe out human life by the
million.
The United States government has spent $50,000,-
000 in the research of this poison, which is a small sum
compared with the sum expended in research on radar
and the atomic bomb. These poisons can be prepared
easily and cheaply, are practically invisible, and are
capable of being spread to reach every living enemy.
The redheads have what it takes—for rel| hair.
Blondes and brunettes just haven’t got it. We re talk
ing about a newly discovered organic compound of iron
which can be found only in red human hair. Demon
strated recently at the 'isiational Chemical Exposition
of the American Chemical Society, the compound is
one varying between briglji rose-pink and brown.
The strength of many common drugs has been ac
curately tested by the means of a squeaking mouse
Ordinarily, a 15-volt electric shock on the tail is enough
to make a mouse “holler,” but when fortified with
aspirin, or the more potent morphine, the mice have
bravely held back their squeaks. Using" morphine as
a standard, the scientists have measured the potency
of varying doses of alcohol, acetophenetidin, acetani-
lid, antipyrine, and demerol by the new mouse-squeak
tegt.
Carolina Bouquets
Twice in a blue moon the Maroon and Gold staff
rises up to announce that there are some people on
campus who are the right kind. This always gives us
a lift, and we don’t have to walk a mile to get it. So
while the last sunet of September is rolling its golden
hoop into the west, to crown the blue mountain peaks
near Boone (“whar” us aims to skin an Appalachian
“bar” come Saturday), we unwind some blue ribbon
for those who get things done.
Bouquet Number One: To our new assistant print
er, Jphn Watson, of Englehard, N. C. He dropped in
after six years in the navy, former chief gunner’s
mate on the destroyer Klaxton, shakedown cruise to
Casablanca and then plenty time in the Pacific. After
tossing a lot of shells at the Nips he brought back the
snappiest “know-how” and precision this old shop has
seen in many days. He’s a man you should know.
You’re bound to like him, folks. ' ,
Bouquet Number Two: Aloha and a garland of
autumn posies to Garland Causey, the big timber boss
from High Point. A man of good judgement, he came
to Elon, and served 'in tlie army on Tinian and Saipan,
took a wife from thp Old Dominion—that’s still a part
of the deep south, son. Coach Causey puts a deep
“Woof!” in that footbajl line,^too.
We could toss some scallions, but we’ll stay on
the sunny sioe. Us believes in the positive psychol
ogy in promoting progress. So does Buster Butler,
another sailor back from the Pacific and doing the same
bang-up and courteous work he always used to do. Pick
a rose and charge it to the^& G, Lt. Butler.
Editor’s Note: There’ll be more, some sweet day,
when Verdalee’s column eomes in AHEAD OF TIME.'
Day By Day
Keyhole Peepings
THIS IS GOING TO BE strietly corn (not the liquid
kind, G.I, brothers!) . . . Wanted: By the wives of “Vet
erans Village”: Blinkers for their husbands, who spend
so much time gazing at the Johnsons’ nursemaid. A
change of scenery might ease the jealousy situation,
but wouldn’t be liked by the Vets, who have their own
idea of what “morning watch” means . . . Dalton (Elon
Spirit) Harper captured high honors during the tryouts
for cheerleaders last week. Three cheers for a boy who
has exhibited college spirit as it was in days of yore!
Let’s all pitch in with him. Is everybody ready? Let’s
go!!! . . . Yank (Falstaff Openshaw) Dickson has acting
ability which puts those Shakespearean actors to shame.
His renditions are free for the asking (in fact, he’ll pay
you to listen, I think). Get him to show you his di-
STINK-tion in this field . . . Here’s some fatherly ad
vice: If you are afraid of the ferris wheel, a “fond
embrace” will calm the nerves. Just ask Carolyn—that
v/as a real “Festa.” . . . Frank McCauley: “I was in a
play last week.” Bill Copeland: “You were!” Frank:
•‘Yeah, I had my arm in a cast.” . . . Visitor: Joe Tom-
anchek, Elon high scorer and all-conference fullback
of the last Elon team, returned to watch his mates in
action against A.C.C. . . . Rumor has it that Bill Coley
is taking that fatal step this week. Could that be the
reason for that preoccupied look, seen so often in
chemistry class these days, hey. Bill??? . . . Dot (I
Can’t Live Without You, Fred) Brinkley is wearing
“widow’s weeds” now, or have you noticed? Fred’s got
a “glo” around him now . . .
Personal: I have the DOG-gone-dest trouble!
What I mean is: As I prepared to climb under the
covers the other night, I suddenly found I had a bed-
niate. The prankster responsible is now on my “list”
of people to be purged, come the revolution—the fleas
are stiU all over me and the place. That blasted dog!
The two of ’em, I mean . . . VICTORY! Rah, rah,
RAH!! Overlooking what the score SHOULD have
been, we’re proud of the victory our boys won over
A.C.C. By the way, who’s the new bandmaster? There’s
a new one every time we look around. Who’s next???
. . . Hey, Frank! How many PEEEEee-nuts did you
sell? . . . Garland (Just Big) Causey, until he was
twelve years old, always thought a cow laid butter
like a chic’/en lays eggs, except he couldn’t understand
how it got those sq|iare comers.
That’s it, friends!!!
—RAY
P. S.: Contributions for this column will be wel
come. Dig up the latest dirH—and let me have it!!!
Entertainment World
By ED MULFORD
Best entertainment of the week was watching Bob
by Harris score those touchdowns, but the music and
movie world had its moments too. In the new Bob
Hope picture, we find lots of laughs and (for a change)
a real story. It’s Booth Tarkington’s “Monsieur Beau-
caire,” an “A” film. “Night and Day” has all the
lovely Cole Porter music, but the story drags and the
facts just weren’t true. “A Game of Death” is a
super “B” thriller about a madman on an island, who
hunts with bow and arrow—hunts humans! Two good
“whodunnits” in Burlington last week' “The Hidden
Eye” and “Deadline at Dawn,” with Edward Arnold
turning in a grand acting job as the blind detective
in the former.
The platter industry is in a turmoil these days
Too many cooks is the trouble. Over 30 different com
panies turning out numbers each month, and most of
them have at least one good band. Capitol, Columbia
Decca, and Victor were "the big guns in the business’
but Majestic, Cosmo, Musicraft, and Jewel are rap^
xdly challenging them. Musicraft stole Artie Shaw.
Duke Ellington, and Larry Clinton right from under the
eye of Victor; and Cosmo secured Hal McIntyre, also
a Victor artist. Good pop tunes of the week: “Cali
fornia Sunbeam” by Alvino Rey, “Who Do You Love, I
Hope” by Elliot Lawrence, and any of the Claude
Thornhill releases. Harry James’ “Easy,” out a month,
is his besf in a year. Ray McKinley’s “Land of the
Buffalo Nickel” is the season’s best novelty. Noth
ing interesting in the hot jazz line this week, but watch
for Stan Kenton s new album, “A Session in Artistry,”
next month.
Personal note from Tony Festa to WBBB: “If
it’s ‘Jive at Five,’ where’s the jive?” What’s the
answer, Wally?
Finally,* here is the contest we promised you: Do
you have a favorite band? vocalist? actor? actress?
movie? Then write your choices on a piece of paper
or a post card and send them to Box 287, Elon College,
or drop them in the Maroon and Gold box in Alamance
-Building. Six years ago at another college we did this,
and it will be interesting to see what changes have
taken place. At that time. Glenn Miller, Benny'Good
man, Charlie Spivak, Gene Krupa, and Tommy Dor
sey were the leaders in the band contest, and Bing
Crosby ran away with the vocalist honors. Favorite
records were “Little Brown Jug,” by Miller, and Good
man’s immortal “Sing, Sing, Sing.” Rita Hayworth,
after a sensational picture called “Blood and Sand,” and
plenty of publicity in LIFE magazine, was leading
actress; and Robert Taylor led the actors. Incidental
ly, winners of the recent “Metronome” and “Down
beat” (leading musical mags) were Woody Herman,
Tex Beneke, Les Brown, The Duke a;id Stan Kenton.
Vot* now!
College Humor
Three soldiers were making preparations to leave
on a week-end pass. They wer* discussing their plans
with one another.
First Soldier; Guess I’ll take in a football game
this afternoon and a trip through the mountains to
morrow.
Second Soldier: Sounds interesting if you like that
sort of thing, but I’m going on a fishing cruise.
Third Soldier (who was a little backward): I’m going
to see if I can meet some nice ladies.
After a bit the three departed and the following
Monday morning were discussing their week-end. They
all seemed to have fared well and to have had a good
time except the third soldier, who wanted to meet nice
ladies. He had a black eye and | few facial bruises.
First Soldier: What happened to you?
Second Soldier: Yeah ,tell us? Did you find your
ladies?
Third soldier; I sure did. I went into a bar for
a drink and saw a sign over a door that said “Ladies.’'
I walked in and there they were.
* >i * ^
A girl was reading about birth and death statistics.
Suddenly she turned to a man on her right and said,
“Do you know that every time I breathe a man dies?” ’
“Very interesting,” he returned. “Why don’t vou
try sen-sen?” _ ,
He kissed her in the garden
It was a moonlit night
She was a marble statue
He was a little tight.
, . ^^^rlie Lindler: ‘Nice dog you have there. What
kind IS it?” ’’
“Red” Davenport: “Oh, I don’t know, just a dog ’>
Lindler; “Spitz?”
Davenport: “No, just drools a little.”
* * ♦ ♦
John Watson: “Would you care to join me in a
cup of coffee?
“Lefty” Hollander: “I’d love to. You get in first ”
Mr. Walker: “I want two pillow cases.”
Clerk: And what size please'^”
b.f I '^ear a seven
hat if that would help any.”
♦ * * *
didn? doT’ ^ blamed for something I
• Professor Danieley: “No, what is it?”
Nancy: “My homework.” i
♦ * ♦ * ‘
In the parlor, there were three,
He, the parlor lamp, and she.
Two is company, no doubt.
So the parlor lamp went out.
* ♦ * ♦
hP a spade a spade until
he hit his foot with one the other da.
* ♦ ♦ *
doW^^^*^ ^ Chinaman looking in your win-
Spinster: “Yes, that’s Peiping Tom.”
♦ ♦ ♦ Hi
Berl Force: "What does Dr. Smith do here?”
Jack Snyder: “Oh, he gets up in chapel every Wed
nesday and Friday, looks over the student body and
then prays for the school.”
♦ ♦ ♦ ♦
Ed Mulford; “I’m sorry I flunked, because I was
trying to get ahead.”
Mr. Johnson: “You certainly need one.”
* ♦ ♦ ♦
..» Hall Chief (to garbage-collecting mess cook):
Am I too late for the garbage?”
Mess cook: “No/ chief, jump right in.”
Poet’s Column
MY NECROMANTIC HOST
Resembling sleep—
I doze into a calm magnetism.
Submissive to my operator,
I yield and glide to a power beyond.
Try! Try! Resist this passive state;
My strength fails me.
Aloof from myself, I fly
Into a trance of supreme fascination-
The lotus never possesed me so.
Aloft and light my head swims.
I obey the will of my hypnotist.
Slowly, inertly he guides.
A necropolis is our appointment.
The dead surround me;
I feel like one of them.
Bones rattle and crack—they rise.
Friends of the night, dark saints, black devils,
Hollow eyes gaze—I am theirs.
Shrill, piescing voices call;
Bony fingers beckon. }
“Come to our tomb;
Seek the pleasures of silence. *
Drink our nectar, squeezed ‘
From the roots of the creeping ivy,
Ivy, green blanket of our grave.”
Warm vapors smoothes my brow;
Enticing nymphs whisper secrets in my ear. '
Dryads float to me with a goblet of juice, *
Black, green liquid for the communion table.
Reaching for !>iy deathly drink, I stumble.
Stumbling over a tombstone, I read
My nan!^ tarvcd upon a cold stone!,
A grave opens and I fall comfortably into my vault,
WJiile sipping my nectar, I smile at life’s task.
Silence is mine forever. ^
—EDWARD R. DAY