Page Two.
THE SALEMITE
Friday, October 30, 1942.
^alemite
Published Weekly By The Student Body
of Salem College
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CWICAOO * BOfTOH • Los AlMILIt * Sar FAAMCIMO
GIVE UNTIL IT HURTS
ARE WE?
Editor-In-Chief Xuchols
Associate Editor Bobbie WhiUier
Make-up Editor a Mary Best
EDITORIAL AND FEATURE STAPF
Music Editor Margaret L'einbach
Sports Editor Sara Bowen
Mildred Avera Mary Louise Rhodes
Katherine Manning Katherine Traynham
Lucille Newman Frances Yelv'erton
Mary Lib Allen
Margaret Bullock
Rosalind Clark
Joy Flanagan
Barbara Humbert
Frances Jones
Sarah Merritt
Ethel ITalpun
APPRENTICES
Sebia Midyette
Peggy Nimocks
Julia Smith
Nancy Stone
Helen Thomas
Kathryn Wolff
Lois Wooten
Jackie Dash
Doris C. Schaum
BUSINESS DEPARTMENT
Business Manager Mary Margaret Struven
Ass’t Business Manager Mary Elizabeth Bray
Advertising Manager Betty Moore
Circulation Sara Bowen, Ellen Stucky
ADVERTISING STAFF
Margy Moore, Elizabeth Beckwith, Katie Wolff,
Jane Willis, Nancy Vaughn, Corrinne Faw, Martha
Sherrod, Becky Candler, Doris Nebcl, Adele Chase,
Nancy McClung, Sarah Lindley, Allene Seville, Eliza
beth Griffin, Margaret Kempton, Harriet Sutton, Ruth
O’Neal, Y'vonne Phelps, Elizabeth Bernhardt, Edith
Shapiro.
TOO COLD AND
THEN TOO HOT
As we sit here gazing off into the space of
one-thirty p. m. and pondering deeply over
them sensitive lines in Ogden Nash’s, “The
Strange Case of the Girl 0’ Mr. Sponsoon’s
Dreams.” . . . the ones about if he asked her her
name, she would think him a brazen cad; if he
didn’t ask her her name, she would go out of
his life forever; so he’d just point his automo
bile in her direction and run over her with one
wheel, say ... we can’t help listening to the
faint zizzing in yonder corner. And as we
zizz with wie ear, we pitch up the window with
the other hand. We pant for breath and medi
tate no longer on Ogden Nash . . . we have just
switched our focus to the Russian Front and
speculation about how it’d feel to be freezing
in a fur coat ... or even how it’d feel to be
comfortably humidified in ouu bare skin. Then
we remorsefully remember last year’s editorials
about how it was too cold to light-cut in the
halls of Lehman, Sisters, and Society, and in
the Y Room of Clewell . . . and then we wish
we’d never commenced this editorial. But, like
Mr. Sponsoon, we rationalize that it’s wiser to
run over her with one wheel, say.
The crux of the whole business is this;
why, please, do the poor little radiators heat
right on off the floor in the mid hours of the
night? In all seriousness we realize that it’s
for our own benefit . . . but we can’t resist
j wanting to save Salem fuel. If we could pos
sibly endure it, we’d shut the window again
and appreciate the heat . . . but we tried that,
and the room-mate had to administer artifical
respiration. If other dormitories are cold dur
ing the times study bugs operate, we suggest
that the blasting of furnaces continue after
midnight; but we Seniors are getting well into
years, and it just ain’t sensible to thrust all
this heat on us while we’re sleeping up energy
for a hard day ahead. We do appreciate the
thoughtfulness so'much that we’ve tried to be
thoughtful in return . . . would someone mind
disconnectingo uur pipes, though? You may be
assured that we’ll yell when winter comes.
—C. N.
In every columnist’s soul, there lies a glowing faith that somewhere
there is some one person who peruses a thing like this every week . . .
and for that one i>erson, we rocall that last week we very definitely
were under the weather about an ancient history quiz which was star
ing us in the face. We had settled down in Bible class to brush over
a few last minute details about Ramses (how did we know we were
going to get the: Hittites?) . . . when, lo and behold, we discovered that
not one single brush could we maneuver. Mr. Weinland was up there
expounding so vigorously that the moon-and-the-gym-steps, dissertation
of the previous night’s Sophomore Court looked mighty pale. So, in
stead of studying, we sat back enraptly thinking how magnificent he’d
be in the Pierrettes’ next production . . . unless they swing into “The
Women.”
While in the academic field, we may as well admit that Dr. Ans-
combe’s course in American Government is one of the more fascinating
unit-fillers we’ve ever been coerced into. Wie have been completely en
tertained . . . completely disillusioned . . . completely inspired to run
tor Senator in November of 1950. Please prepare to cast your votes;
and the lady will say, “Merci” with a great big smile.
In the other corner, we have social life . . . which, we have ob
served, has picked up quite some. Statistics indicate that there were
eighty blades upon the compus last week-end . . . our sole comment is:
if them babes was eighteen, we shall oppose the draft of eighteen-nine-
teen year-olds until the F. B. I. comes and hauls us clean out of the
country. Amen.
In still another corner, we have religious life . . . and we shall dwell
here briefly with a few statements. After three years of wondering
what they were, we finally got around to Vespers last Sunday . . • and
it was one of the truly enjoyable activities of our career. Marjorie
Craig’s organ music was the very ticket we needed to end a peace
fully lazy day . . . and if someone would only guarantee that we wouldn’t
be prayed over, we’d promise to attend every single Vesper.
Monday was a very grim day ... so grim, in fact, that not even
Casserole’s rain suit could pull us out of the rut. The root of trouble
was that we had publicly announced from our position at the Arden
Farm to a cohort on the steps of Main Hall .. . . (it certainly is strange
how tales' get' around 1) that we! had polished Mj. Kenyon^ off on the .bad
minton courts. We find it now necessary to confess that such was not
the case at all . . . not even with Dr. McEwen’s active support, could
we raise the score from 21-11 (we demanded a ten point handicap).
Mr, Kenyon is indeed an ace gent, a superb master of the courts, and
we simply adore letting him beat us in badminton,
get an F on art?
Now
do I still
Salemites, we can pat ourselves on the
back! In the first five days of the defense stamp
drive sponsored by the Athletic Association,
we have bought over fifty dollars worth of ten
and twenty-five cent stamps — which is rather
good (even if we do say so ourselves) for a
group of collejge girls who are perpetually
“broke.”
As far as the amount of money taken in we
have made a good showing. A few people in
each class, however, are doing all the buying.
To date, Aileen Seville, Annie Hyman Bunn,
Margaret Leinbach, Coco McKenzie, and Miss
Brona Nifong, are leading the race to see which
single person purchases the largest amount of
defense stamps. The majority of the faculty
and students have not yet invested in their
“share of liberty.’*
A few figures will make the statistically
minded happy. The senior class leads in the
race between classes with a total of $22.10 of
stamps. The faculty have purchased $12.75.
The juniors follow with an even $9.00. The
freshman class has $6.95 to its credit. The
sophomores trail with $3.25. The business girls
have bought $1.15. The next week will un
doubtedly see a marked rise in these figures.
Two members of the faculty have promised to
buy $100 bonds. There are many rumors con
cerning the capitalistic junior class which
claims loudly that it is going to buy several
hundred dollars worth on the last day of the
drive. Numerous bets in stamps have been
made concerning the outcome of the drive just
to make it more exciting. Meanwhile the A A
continues to sell stamps at the door of Corrin
Hall every day at lunch and promises some
door to door canvasses in the near future.
There’s no need to say, “Don’t let the suc
cess of the first week lull us into complacency.”
The excitement is at fever pitch and we Sale
mites intend to see that it stays there.
—B. W.
For students who minimize athletics to less than nothing, there were
certainly an impressive batch of A. A. announcements in Tuesday’s
chapel . . . well, that’s one route propaganda can take. In actuality,
however, the situation is summed up in the coy question of Margaret
Kempton as she picked up a hockey stick for the first time, “Is it all
right to trip the opponent?”
Having a million more things to rattle about and millions of wind
to rattle with, we shall practice what Mrs. Downs used to call restraint
and quit . . . right here . . . right now!
Nous voici au millieu des ^preuves de six semaines. N’est-il pfis
amusant, et tr6s affligeant, que chaque maitre assigne son epreuve une
semaine d’avance afin que nous ne les ayons pas S. meme temps? Le
resultat est que nous les avons toutes dans I’espace de quelques jours.
Nous avons bien de la peine, mais, en tout cas, nous finissons de donne
heure.
Quand les premieres epreuves sont pass6es, les ^tudiantes nouvelles
sont complStement initiees. Les etudiantes avancees savent si elles
pouvrant s’en aller pour une fine de semaine importante ou s’il faudra
rester ici pour 6tudier. Les dpreuves de six semaines representent, pour
les etudiantes, une veritable fin de tout; mais quelle sensation glorieuse
quand elles sont fnies!
One Euck ouW Every Ten
you earn Should beqoinq j
into U.S.W(arBondsStatnps;
TRADITION RUT?
WE, HOPE NOT!
Since nineteen hundred, Salem has become
a college; Salem girls have become people to
be considered as such; “parties” have become
dances; and cigarettes have become not too
much worse than that bad man, coffee. We
can say, in fact, that we have been emancipa
ted . . . and yet, somehow, hangovers seem to
keep popping up; little rules that were made
for little ladies who had never heard of Shelley,
but who could embroider a mean, “Home
Sweet Home.” Some of the rules about our
dances are just such hangovers. Last year we
realised how inane it was to have the rule
about sweltering away the whole of intermis
sion within the gym, and now after-intermis
sion is just as exciting as before-intermission
. . . well, almost. What makes that little pause
not quite the pause that refreshes is that seen
about are dancers looking wistfully toward
the upper campus and a smoke? house, or, other
dancers looking with venom at their dates who
are blithely smoking. There is plenty of good
sense in not being allowed to truck all over
the campus during the dance and then return;
there is a lot of good sense in not being al
lowed to smoke within the gym; but there isn’t
much sense at all in not being allowed to
smoke on the steps when we go out for a
breath of fresh air. Shall we start catchjng
up these little hang-overs and making them
harmonize with the ordeir of things? or shaU
we go on having more than history to remind
us of our humble beginnings? Is tomorrow
too soon to hope for a change?
—L. W.; M. B.