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THE GUILFORDIAN
Published Semi-Monthly by the Students of Guilford College
Editor-in-Chief Ernest White
Managing Editor , Frances Alexander
Assistant Managing Editor Mary Edith Woody
Business Manager Marvin Sykes
SPECIAL EDITORS
Feature Editors It. Poole, Charlotte Parker, Anna Jean Bonham
Sports Editor Clyde Redding
Alumni Editor Miss Era Lasley
Assistant Alumni Editor Mary Bryant
Society Editor Marguerite Neave
Typing Editor Ruth Fuquay
REPORTERS
John McNairy Billy Anderson Earl Maloney
Howard Wooley William Collier Herman Trivette
Louise Ward L. T. New Gladys Melville
Winston Davis Claude llepler Ida Mae Iliggins
Jim Parsons Esther Stilson Gladys Bryan
SECRETARIAL STAFF
Elizabeth Gilleam Mary Weber Millie Glisson
Ruth Anderson Editb Moore Geraldlne McLean
Circulation Manager Earl Ku.vkendall
Asis.ant Circulation Manager Mack Ray Robinson
Assistant Business Manager John Bradshaw
Adaress all communication to THE GUILFORDIAN,
Guilford College, N. C.
Subscription price $1.50 per year
Entered at the post office in Guilford College as second class matter
Football Heroes
Guilford has never had a football team more deserving of praise
than the present one, which has gone forth to foreign wars this year
and been slaughtered to make campus bells toll from "Wake Forest to
Emory-Henry. Outrated all around, the Quakers have gone in and
taken it on the button over and over again. All honor to them, for
theirs has been a rough trail, strewn with the rocks of disappointment
and defeat.
Guilford, a grade A college, is beginning to be known abroad as
having a football team that wouldn't give a good high school eleven
much of a scrap. For the word "Guilford" to immediately spring
into an association pattern with "sorry" could hardly be to the best
interests of the school, but that is not all.
Constant frustration, seeing the thing he has helped to build up
strewn to the winds every Saturday, is bad education for a boy, par
ticularly since football, from the nature of the game, can never be a
thing of reason, but is a thing of the emotion. Perhaps this last is not
as it should be, in the lights of the educational world; it is that way
because it is.
Likewise it boots not to argue about what should build up school
spirit. Anyone would grant, however, that a winning football team
will create, by many times, more school spirit than two Ph.D.'s added
to the faculty.
The key log in Guilford's football jam is the fact that we are at
tempting to raise our own football team. That is the best, most ethical
way to conduct an athletic policy, no doubt, and if every school did
the same we would probably get about as many good players as the
next college.
Examine the records of the men on the Guilford team. How many
of them played football before they came here? Few enough, but how
many of them were fjood high or prep school players before they came
here? One or two, perhaps.
Boys who played good ball in high school don't come here to school;
for why should they, when they can get S3OO a year off their expenses
at Whatsis college where, though they study under a faculty that will
not stand beside ours, they will play on a team that is spoken of with
respect throughout the state? Never mind the legality of the trans
action under conference rules, it is done.
The granting of football scholarships should be done judiciously;
football players who also have minds worth cultivating and capable of
cultivation should be found, —boys that would be a credit to their
school as well as to their team. Guilford would lose little by giving
six or seven such scholarships, substantial enough to be worth coming
here for; Guilford could gain much.
To the Trenchermen
There has of late been considerable discontent, expressed in vari
ous ways, in connection with the food served in the dining hall here.
Clarence E. Tobias, secretary of the college, who is responsible for
getting the food as far as the kitchen, has expressed himself as per
fectly willing to lay his cards on the table. His pledge is this:
Every cent that is being paid for board is going to be spent for that
purpose. The deficit from last year will not be made up from this
year's board money. Students are cordially invited to present their
likes and dislikes as to individual dishes at any time.
On the other hand, the dining hall must carry itself and will not
be allowed to run into debt.
He has one hole card which he will not play unless absolutely neces
sary. There is a clause in this year's catalogue which gives the admin
istration the right to boost the board bill lip $20.00 in order to make
the dining hall pay for itself.
THE GUILFORDIAN
The acme of altruism or maybe just
the inevitable effect of Cupid's potent
darts, is presented in striking contrasts
in the following romantic intrigues. It
seems that one frosh lad, when calling
for his very fair companion on a
'walk-to-the-store" date, sweetly re
minds her to "bring the duck's-bills."
Whereupon it is reported that she quite
graciously responds with the necessary
dinero. While contrastingly to this,
we hear that one swain Invests his full
monetary resources in that very popu
lar game at the Archdale casino, and
presents his winnings (if any) to his
lovely heart-throb. Can it bo love in
bloomers?
Old Man Winter is taking his toll
early this season and he is already
playing havoc with those romantic cou
ples who just adore sitting out under
the moon and gazing at the stars. With
the mercury taking a sudden plunge
downward, they have been forced to
seek warmer climes. Only the most
hardy pioneers venture forth into the
Ueth of the gale on West porch now.
Put even more appalling than these
vicissitudes of nature itself is the offi
cial admonition that has been given out
relative to those who would a-wooing
go—in the dark. The popular refrain
now seems to be, "Keep the Parlor
Lights Burning."
Again the dear W. 0. U. N. C. lassies
command tlio spotlight for their seem
ingly unrelenting attraction to Guil
ford's noble sons. This time one of
our lads became so much "that way"
that he ups and sends an enlarged
photo of himself to one of these win
some dames. Then there is another
swain that, according to reports, fre
quents the Woman's College campus
three times a week. While still an
other Guilford lad comes back all
smiles to state that the damsels at Mary
Foust certainy have "apPEELE."
To this column comes the following
joke that was requested to he printed,
so here it is. One father was talking
to another father (as fathers will) the
other day and one of these gentlemen
c?.id to the other one: "Do you know
my little hoy is getting fresher and
more impudent every day. Do you know
what he said to his mother yesterday?
He said, 'Mother, didn't you tell me
that Santa Claus brought all of the
Christmas gifts?' 'Why, yes, darling,'
she replied. 'And didn't you say that
the stork brought the baby,' he asked.
'Why, yes, of course, dear, she an
swered. 'Then why,' he asked, 'do you
keep Pa hanging around here?'"
Tt is said that one of the ministerial
students on the campus was frankly
and openly inquiring about the mar
riage license in Virginia. It is further
said that he is definitely planning to
take that fatal step (luring Christmas
holidays. Chalk up another victim for
Dan Cupid. My, what a wonderful
thing it must be! ... If, perchance,
you call for your mail any day during
the period after lunch, you will dis
cover that the basement has really be
come a memorial cubicle as a lovers'
rendezvous. Could it be that the quaint
old game of postoffice is being played?
. . . Every day there comes to light
some new type of endurance contest.
We have had pole-sitting contests,
dance marathons, walkathons and what
have-you, but it seems that a novel
type of endurance contest is being en
acted in the dining room of Foundcrs ,
hall. I fear that it is 'nuff said. . . .
Ilast thou ever in thy moments of lei
sure been prone to gaze fixedly upon
the cute antics of those playful little
creatures known as squirrels? Tt seems
that one religion class indulged in this
unique diversion the other day. For
further details ask Marguerite Neave.
. . . For very profuse blushes, ask Judy
about her remark, "This is the —" Well,
THE FABLE OF THE
HOBGOBLINS
It was on n Hallowe'en many years
ago that an unusually large number
of llobgobHns collected in their pitch
black cave where bowling noises and
cold water constantly dripping played
a suitable accompaniment to the guard
ed, threatening mutter of their voices.
Tile discussion grew heated. One more
mature and experienced Hobgoblin
made a suggestion: "Gentlemen, as a
project for tills Hallowe'en I suggest
we make a hobby of collecting the ra
dios in this vicinity, thereby handicap
ping our music lovers greatly." How
ever, this move was not seconded by
any of his colleuges, many objecting to
it because it involved too much risk.
After a pause, during which the Hob
goblins sipped their tea gently, a rather
impetuous Hobgoblin said, "Boys, let
us carry away the provisions from you
castle, for I fear me I have need of
nourishment." Wiser heads than his
■ osured liiiu that the castle was too
well fortified to fall under any on-
I slaught. Then, perhaps it was a witch
passing along in the night that whis
pered the plan, or even it might have
been an owl, hooting at the moon, but
a wonderful idea sprang into the brains
of all the Hobgoblins at once. Why
should they not place the chariots of
the mighty and the wheelbarrows of
the lowly in unexpected places where
all the public might view their beauty
of line and color. Indeed, there was no
reason to prevent. Joyfully, the
merry band worked as they had never
worked before. However, they consid
erately took care that the children who
were already in bed should not be dis
turbed. Backs and arms grew stiff
from heaving the heavy chariots and
even wheelbarrows seemed quite a load
after a while. At last, while yet the
night was young, the triumphant band
stepped back and viewed their handi
work with admiration. But "never say
die until down" is the Hobgoblin's mot
to and antoher project claimed their
attention. "The seats of learning"
struck them as dainty brlc-a.bracs to
tack on their walls, so, gaily they de
gan to remove them from the I'alace.
However, the King's next-door neigh
bor, the Marchoiiess, called him back
from a business trip to attend to his
household and the throne was saved.
Nevertheless, as the band scurried
away, having been warned of the ap
proach of the authorities, they left be
hind their dainty little mascot who
wandered the marble halls of the pal
ace all night.
"The Bosy-flngered Child" began to
appear and the Hobgoblins knew that
their work must soon end. However,
light-lingered, light-headed, and light
footed members of the clan, wishing
one lust little remembrance of a glori
ous night, collected the clapper from
the King's official reminder to his sub
jects of their duty. At dawn the Hob
goblins faded slowly away, disappear
ing into that magic land of Nobody
Will Tell Where, the home of the
fairies, elves, I'eter Pan, and "Windy."
Moral: Never count your ugly duck- 1
ling's until they grow up to be swans.
AN INCIDENT
The three scantily clad men with
sweat streaming from their backs on
their way to the nearest doctor for re
lief for their contagion-filled native
village staggered onward determinedly,
although the sun beat down on them
unmercifully. Their stumbling steps
grew slower and slower as they gasped
and gulped at the suffocating blanket
of air for a hit of refreshment. The
leader urged them forward: the goal
wasn't far away, relief was there; but
in spite of his encouragement, first one,
then the other took his last faltering
step and fell by the wayside, his face
distorted, his eyes glazed, a prayer on
his parched lips that the leader at
least might last tlie journey.
—BEATRICE BOHR.
you ask her. . . . And did one frosh lad
tell all the other night at a Rat courtt
Why, "Weiner Brain," you should never .
do that.
November 17, 1934
SKYWAYS
Slowly it winged its way across tho
heavens, then 'twas gone.
As I watched I heard the low droning
murmur die away.
I sat there—awed.
My reveries were broken by the voices
of men—contact—contact off.
Then the motor burst into action.
A man was at my side; I heard his
voice above the roar of the engine.
Yes—l was ready.
We were taxiing for the take-off.
Soon the jolting of the wheels ceased—
we were in the air!
Above us floated white, fleecy clouds.
Too high for us to reach?
Higher we climbed—higher—until the
altimeter read three thousand.
I felt a cracking in my ears —still
higher we climbed.
I Then above the loud monotony of the
engine I faintly heard a voice in my
ear —
"Here we go!"
I looked up. The next moment we were
enveloped in thick, white mist.
We were in the clouds.
I felt the pressure in the seat—no other
sign that we were climbing—still
climbing.
Soon the fog began to thin; the next
moment we were . . .
Above the cloud!
I looked about me. Below the wheels
rolled the clouds—beneath the clouds,
somewhere, the sun was setting
It cast its repertoire of colors in front
of us.
We were alone—just we two. Nowhere
could another breathing soul be seen.
For the brief space of a few minutes
we marveled in our supremacy.
I Then the nose dropped forward. Plane
and pilot went down again into real
ity, leaving me forever . . .
Above the clouds!
—BUTH STILSON.
LONGING
I'd like to live in a city room,
Hear the noise of crowds, and the traf
fic's boom,
Where the sun shines in bravely once
a day,
And your next-door neighbor is two
feet away.
I'd like to stroll down the "Great White
Way,"
Where theatre signs make night bright
as day.
Where "celeb" and unknown meet in
the melee—
The pulse and the beat of the city.
—MARY DOIG.
PRISONER'S LAMENT
My faults arc many, my crimes are
more,
And often I've entered the prison
door.
To make amends for my evil ways
I'm serving a sentence of sixty days.
Thirty days I've been in here,
Thirty days that seem a year;
Thirty more must slip away
Before I'm free to go- my way.
Never again will I steal or sin,
From this day on I'll enter in
To another life, away from crime,
Using my wits and allotting my time
To achieving an end which may atone
In part for the errors that I now
bemoan.
—EARLE MALONEY.
Fast is the pace from childhood to man,
Quickly its path of joys does it span,
And now that it's over and work is
ahead—
Why are the thoughts of play instead f
The man with his worries, the child
with his toy,
Why should they differ—the man and
the boyl
—JOHN RYAN.