Newspapers / Salem College Student Newspaper / Oct. 24, 1931, edition 1 / Page 2
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Page Two. THE SALEMITE Saturday, October 24, 1931. The Salemite Published Weekly by the Student Body of Salem College SUBSCRIPTION PRICE $2.00 a Year :: 10c a Copy EDITORIAL STAFF Editor-in-Chief Sarah Graves Managing Editor „ Mary Louise Mielcey Associate Editor Frances Dougli Local Editor >... Patsy McMullen Feature Editor Marian Caldwell Feature Editor .... Dorothy Heidenreich Poetry Editor Martha H. Davis Literary Editor Margaret Johnson Music Editor Mary Ahsher Society Editor Susan Calder Sports Editor Nancy Miller REPORTERS Beatrice Hyde Mildred Wolfe Zina Vologodsky Mary Miller Miriam Stevenson Betty Stough BUSINESS STAFF Business Manager Advertising Mgr. Asst. Adv. Mgr. . Asst. Adv. Mgr. . Asst. Adv. Mgr. . Asst. Adv. Mg) Asst. Adv. Mgr. Mary Alice Beaman .. Edith Claire Leake Martha Bothwell Grace Pollock Mary ........ Isabelle Pollock Emily Mickey t. Ad. Mgr. Mary Cathe Circulation Mgr Sarah Horton Asst. Circ. Mgr Ann Shufc Asst. Circ. Mgr Ilachel Bray LITTLE THOUGHTS FOR TODAY “Tliis learned I from the shad ow of a tree Which to and fro did sway upon my wall; Our influence, our sliadow- selves, may fall Where we can never be.” He who has the fewest vants is nearest to the gods. —Socrates. PARAGRAPHICS While Ye Editor and Ye Managing Editor are in absentia (they are at tending the N. C. Collegiate Press Convention at Duke), Margaret Johnson and Dorothy Heidenreich are doing a good job of this week’s Salemite. Don’t you think so ? (Paiv don the sweet conceit.) Well, last Friday night the Seniors did away with the hats that the Frosh have been missing for a long time—in fact, ever since they heard of Hat-Burning at Salem. If the four classes are going pull as many fast ones tonight as i four Marx Brothers did in Monkey Business, Ye Paragrapher would ad vise you to attend the MacDowell Club’s stunt night program at 7:30. Foggy atmosphere .... gay Cam araderie .... informality .... green walls .... attractive tangerine and black furnishings .... after-dinner lethargy .... girls, puffing indolent ly, talking shop .... all about Em press Eugenie, that football game, mid-semester ’zams .... The Green Some of the self-reducing Frosh (and upperclassmen!) have been grumbling because the food in dining-room is so good that they can’t restrain their hearty appetites except by staying away from the table. Fifteen rahs for Mrs. Orrell! ARE WE CONCERNED Not long ago an authoress who places great interest in the youth of today went to Europe with many ob jectives in view, one of which was an understanding of the European people. Recently Miss Edna Ferber returned to America ' ) happy state of mind, for when she had contrasted American youth with that of Europe^ she found results which were not exactly commendable to America. In com paring the youth of America with the youth of Europe, she found comparison because the fact that Europeans surpassed in ideals and intellect was poignantly obvious. Miss Ferber said the American boys d girls have the mentality of twelve year old child and they speak ‘ya - yas” and converse about paltry puerile matters. To offer rationalizations and ali- bies in order to oppose Miss Ferber would be useless, for she has spoken knowingly and impressively. One need only make a few personal ob- s in order to realize how great the depravity and fiddle-faddle of modern adolescence really is. Some one ought to tell the large num ber of boys who make a sort of hu man flying buttress out of their bodies that, that type of architecture is purely Gothic and is in mony with the arcliitecture of the modern drug store. There is hardl}^ any intelligentsia among the large class of young peo ple. In this day of humanism, which affords the humanity with every phase of research and subject matter, the young people are not choosing wisely. Of all the myriads of pub lications it is the saddest fact in the world that the majority of boys and girls have an affinity for the lowest type of novel, magazine and story. The onslaught of modern novels and movies w'hich strive to present ethical acts in a seemingly righteous way are safe only in the hands of broad-minded persons who have the endurance and defiance of a Pi theus. The modern novels, Mrs. Lindsay Patterson says, furnish the best wallowing places f physical filth and have played great part in the degradation of what used to be ideals and morals. Today is the time for the youth of America to wake up. Rusty hinges have been oiled and they work fairly well. With the abundance of litera ture and with the social opportunities furnislied today, young people ought to bring conversation back into its in art, not as an abbreviated system of communication. Think of India, Russia, the Five-Year-Plan, Ghandi, Italy, Religious beliefs of the world! How many of these topics be discussed intelligently by boys and girls. Is it not time to convert the mind in such a way that the American youth can at least ap proach the criterion already estab lished by the youth of other nations.^ IP € IE T IR y BRIEFS I love The way he laughs— The throaty essence of his elo quence When he Moves close to whisper in my hair. His boyish words— The muddy logic of his argu- And his Wild dreams; eternal I hate His tender moods— His sometimes wanting Star and Moon—for then: My heart Leaps up to trip me OCTOBER NOON ; night the hills were draped in gray. But in the sun of noon this day A million flaming angels stood Where yesterday had been a wood. In robes of scarlet, crimson, gold. With blowing banners manifold. With lifted trumpet, flashing sword, They hailed the glory of the Lord. I hid my two eyes suddenly. Lest too much beauty madden me. —Theodosia Garrison. POLITENESS If people ask me, I always tell them; “Quite well, thank you. I’m ver glad to say.” If people ask me, I always answer. Quite well, thank you, how are y I always answer, I always tell them. If they ask me Politely .... BUT SOMETIMES That they wouldn’t. —A. A. Milne, In When e TV ere Very Young. DREAM FANTASIES ley flit like pallid spectres thru my mind Wan memories of thoughts that died a-borning ain I try to grasp them, just to find Translucent ghosts that fade away at morning. —Isabella Hanson. JUST THOUGHTS Cruel things—Boys Mean things—Girls For boys have not the tenderness of Age Nor girls the sympathy. Youngsters are so foolish: They would display their wisdom and be called Fools! (Am I not trying to show my wisdom With this passage.^) A Coquette Is a charming Silhouette Against the background of A frowning World. —L^abella Hanson. SCENARIO Tlie girl’s face was white and hag gard. She stared with a singular fascination at a tiny bottle on the dressing-table before her. Her eyes widened with disgust and dread, and something akin to horror. She shud dered, and her mouth quivered pa thetically. Slowly her slender hand reached out toward the bottle— drew back- crept out again. Gradually it aj proached the diminutive vial - trembled—and then—the fingei closed convulsively around it. SI gasped slowly, and relaxing her grasp, clasped her hands tightly, striving to overcome the hypnotic spell of the small bottle, upon which her terrorized gaze was riveted. Her hand stole forth again, this time with determination. Deter minedly she grasped it; determinedly raised it to her lips. The sluggish amber liquid within stirred repulsively. She trembled violently, and then tipped her head back and swallowed in a great, choking gasp. She had eaten onions for supper. She was dating Bill that night. She was taking the cure for hali tosis. —Isabelle Hanson. Week-End Travels In the Realms of Gold “Much Have I Travelled in the Realms of Gold" Our travels in the land of music this week takes us back many, many years to the days when the contemporary geniuses, Goethe and Beethoven, admired each other in public and quarrelled bitterly in private. The vehicle is Romain Holland’s Goethe and Beethoven, a recent translation from the French, which leads us down unending roads liitherto little known. Music is the heroine of the book, presented not only as a companion of Beethoven-Dionysus, but also as a muse well beloved of Goethe, the Apollo of Weimar; and both these men are given to us in such a human, understandable manner that we are able to live their lives with them. The adoring passion of the little Bettina for the master, Goethe, and the consuming jealousy of his vulgar wife, Christiana; the powerful magnetism of Goethe and Beethoven for each other; and their constant fiery battles and bitter words—all these are made as real to us as our own small loves and battles. For even the rankest amateur in music, this book holds a wealth of pleasure. The illustrations are fascinatingly human and quite plentiful and they help to throw a light on the lives of these two great men that shows them as they have not been fully shown before. As yet, the only w'oman winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature is the Swedish authoress, Selma Lagerloff, who wrote Jerusalem. This book illustrates the secret of that power which enables Miss Lagerloff to take her seat among the eighteen immortals—her ability to transform the crisp realities of human experience by throwing about them the glamour of the unknown, and on the other hand to give to the unreal (folktale, fairy lore, and local superstition) the effec tiveness of convincing fact. Furthermore, the odds delight to her book by the use of a style unique to herself—a sort of prose rhap sody held in restraint, at times passionately breaking its bonds. In Jerusalem, one is introduced to the people of Daleearlia, who have the Mid-summer Eve festival and dress quite gorgeously, but are nevertheless a syr and solid community, given to the slow and con servative habits of thought. The name is derived from a real his toric event, a pilgrimage from Daleearlia in the last century. Selma Lagerloff does not write of things that are familiar to us, but she does give a most interesting insight into the hearts of men— as well as a journey into a far country. Folk Culture on St Helena Island, by Guy B. Johnson, is a book that no one should miss. Don’t become alarmed at the title—it merely means, “A Study of Negro Culture in South Carolina.” This book takes up the “whys” and “wherefores” of negro speech, and explains in a most delightful way why our own Southern darkies talk and think as they do. Some of the more technical language discussions will probably go over your head (as they did mine), but the riddles, spirituals, toasts and games are too enchanting to neglect. This book gives us a peculiar insight into the life and culture of our local negroes that is probably unique in its line. Goethe and Beethoven Romain Rolland Jerusalem Selma Lagerloff Folh Culture on St. Helena Island Guy B. Johnson A LANTERN IN HIS HAND I write this incident in the hope of gaining sympathy from all those who, at some time, have found them selves, through no fault of their own, helplessly bound in conversation. When I first came to Salem Col lege, I was classified in the roll book Junior, but in the minds of Sophomores I was a Freshman. Per haps two years at a junior college had failed to give me that dignity that a Junior should possess, and I still showed tints of green. At any when a Sophomore accosted me with a demand for vanilla ice cream, I knew no better than to get her ;ome, though the hour was nine I’clock at night. Since the handbook expressly says that an underclass- it not pass the front doors after seven o’alock, it was necessary to ask a Senior to go to the drug store for me. She kindly went the mission while I waited be hind the bars at the driveway. Alone for the first time since my rival at college, I used these few moments to reflect on a letter that I had received from my mother. She had written of the opportunities which were before me at Salem, of the cultural advantages I would through studies, through lec- and in meeting interesting people. Gazing at the half moon which was shining through the dark ness, I thanked my lucky stars that I could be here. “Good evening,” said somebody behind a lantern. Approaching me was one of the most interesting people I was to meet. He holds a position of unique importance at the college. He is its police force, dog catcher, fire warden, detective, protector—night watchman. At that particular time I was ignorant of the importance of the gentleman, although I supposed, from seeing his electric torch, that he held the last of the positions men- ‘Good evening,” I replied, look ing through the gate bars across Sa lem Square. “Nice night tonight,” he said. Evidently this lonesome man want ed to talk to someone, and even though he had broken my serious thoughts into uselessness, I could not afford to be rude. It might be worth my while to talk to him. Cer tainly he was unusual looking. I no ticed that his moustache was of the same color as his straw hat, and both were frayed at the edges. His eyes were pale blue and devoid of any expression. As to his general ap pearance, at the moment I could only recall a Hoosier illustration in Riley Child Rhymes of “our hired man.” He wore the same kind of loosely fitting clothes; he had that same friendly attitude toward the world; and he was talking to me as though I were “our hired girl, ’Lis- beth Ann.” “Say, did you ever hear a thing like I heard while ago.? That just beat all! It was a radio playin’ in side of an automobile, just as pretty as you please. Law, I never heard anything like it before.” “You never did.?” I said politely. “It was a nice lookin’ car, too. There was a man in it, and he come and got a girl, and they sat and list ened to it awhile. Then they drove off. Say, did you ever see anything like it.?” “Yes, I have heard a radio in a ear. Once I heard Amos and Andy while I was riding.” “Yea, old Amos ’n Andy,” he said, quite interested. “Well, this radio was a-talkin’ and playin’ both. You ought to have heard it.” It seemed that he could not be di verted from that particular subject, much less to depart from me. Fear ing that there might be a rule against talking with the night watchman, I was anxious for him to be on his way before my friend returned with the ice cream. Perhaps he needed to be reminded of the work that he was neglecting. “Don’t you wish you had a little portable radio you could carry with you on your rounds, to keep you from (Continued on Page Four)
Salem College Student Newspaper
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Oct. 24, 1931, edition 1
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