THE SALEMITE
lUNIORS MASSACRE »R$
IN THIRD GAME OF SERIES
March 19, 1943.
Those poor seniors try hard and
are superb hockey players, but they
are a faree at basketball. In the
game Thursday, the seniors suffered
another defeat at the hands of the
juniors by the score of 14 to 7.
Sarah Sands, Betty Moore, Mary
Ellen Carrig, Mil Aver,9 Mildred
Butner and Lawson played for the
juniors. Carlotta Carter, Ceil Nuc-
hols, Coco McKenzie, Barbara Whit
tier, Phillis Hill, Mary Lib Band,
Mot Sauvain, and Cecelia Ann Cas
tellow tried for the seniors.
As ‘‘‘See” Averill said, “the gym
looks just like a colored church, got
all of the audience working.” They
were made to keep score, keep time,
and do everything but refreec.
Between doing all of that work and
laughing at Casserole, the comic of
the game, everyone was in a very
weak condition when she left.
The seniors had the ball first, and
Carlotta Carter, taking a beautiful
shot, made the first goal of the
game. Betty Moore immediately fol
lowed W'ith a goal for the Juniors
and Lawson dropped in a foul shot
to put the juniors in the lead 3-2.
Sauvain made another foul on Law
son and the juniors led 4-2. Casse
role in her very naive manner broke
up the games seriousness by taking
a beautiful leap through space, hop
ing to stop a ball €n route, but her
opponent calmly stood and watched
her sail by. There was more play,
but no more scaring in the first half.
With Ceil Nuchols taking calis-
thenthics during half time—Casse
role streched out flat apparently
dead, the spectators started a stiff
competition in original cheers. The
junior rooters were the loudest but
when the Seniors issued something
on the order of acka-daka-chi, acka-
daka-chee, that was the crowning
blow. The referees started the game
immediately to keep the players
from tearing their hair and escape-
inp
The second half started with
Casserole running to the wrong end
of the court to get the ball. Upon
seeing her mistake, she > tripped
gracefully back with scarcely a
Vjlush. Ceil finaly got the ball for
the seniors, but promptly hit Bar
bara Whittier in the head with it.
Luckily it bounced back and she
passed to Coco, who tied the score,
4-4. Despite beautiful guarding by
Nuchols, Lawson was able to make
another shot and the juniors went
ahead 6-4.
The fourth quarter began with
a goal by Carrig and the juniors led
8-4. Another by Lawson raised the
score to 10-4, but Coco fought hard
and brought the score to 10-6. A
foul shot by Carter raised the score
to 10-7. A goal by Carrig brought
the score to 12-7 and a last minute
goal by Lawson gave the juniors
the victory 14-7.
The juniors came out in one piece
but Ceil, who played the last
quarter in her bare feet, found she
shouldn’t have, and Casserole ac
quired a horrible wound on her leg
caused by somebody’s fingernail.
For further details see her. She will
be delighted to show it to you if
gangrine hasn’t already' set in.
—JULrA WINS—
place . . . and it was obviously any
body’s game.
In the last eight hours of the
drive, however; those who’d been
holding out, came across . . . came
across with some four hundred dol
lars for the lass with beautiful,
beautiful black hair and exquisite
olive complexion! And so the queen
was crowned.
All in all, the SALEMITE has
handled $1,720.00 in bonds and
stamps . . . with votes amounting
to 52,804 for Miss Garrett, 38,208
for Miss Nimocks; 27,470 for Miss
McLendon; 23,555 for Miss Sulli
van; 17,071 for Miss Fulton; and
12,976 for Miss Turner. Translated
to bonds and stamps, that amounts
to: seventeen $25 bonds, six $50
bonds, nine $$100 bonds, and one
$500 bond . . . one $5.00 stamp,
twenty-six $1.00 stamps, two '^Oc
stamps, six hundred and thirty-eight
25c stamps, and five hundred seven
ty-one lOc stamps.
'There’s your story ... a grand
queen and a grand record of sales.
The SALEMITE offers its most
grateful thanks to each and every
one of you!
—SALEM BOOSTS—
Curicula ae being expanded in oc
cupied Holland. Accoding to Het
Nationale Dagblad of Utrecht, one
of the first pro-Nazi papers in Hol
land, the Burgomaster of Harlem
has supplemented technical courscs
—with classes in national socialism.
(A. C. P.)
which to him is more than a mere
formula . . . nobody ever goes to
sleep while he is talking!”
And Frances Neal: “He is un
doubtedly the most dynamic man
I’ve ever heard speak. He creates
a spell with his ideas which carries
both him and his audience into an
unknown world of thought and
imagination.”
“He discussed problems about
which we were all interested . . .
love and marriage and modern re
ligion. He W'as just as frank and un
derstanding as one’s best friend . . .
definitely not a stodgy,” according
to Ceil Xuchols.
Sarah Henry declares: “He was
here my first year and each spring
since I’ve been hoping that he would
get back before I graduated. And
so I was more than pleased to hear
that he was returning. Because he’s
the most dynamic speaker I’ve ever
heard, I intend to hear him every
time he speaks next week.”
The schedule of Dr. Hart follows:
Monday, 7:00 p. m. in basement of
Bitting, (all talks other than chapel
ones, held here at 7:00), talk on “A
Faith For History’s Greatest Crisis;’’
Tuesday, “The Meaning of Ever-
Betsy Stafford, one of the girls liv-
ship and Marriage In Wartime;”
Thursday, “To Drink or Not to
Drink;” FWday, 5:00p.m., “Can We
Have A World Brotherhood.”
The entire Harvard university
one-mile relay team has joined the
armed forces.
—NEWMAN SCANS—
ganized a branch Red Cross unit.
By January, 1918, we had com
pleted 140 three-yard rolls, 1326
gauze rolls, 4 abdominal bandages,
14 triangular bandages, and 30 four
tailed bandages. In addition to
knitted sweaters, sox, and scarfe,
we sent 45 comfort bags to head
quarters.
Wle had to give up many of our
pleasures. Among those given up
’pleasures” was our Salem paper,
“The Ivey,” which was not pub
lished in 1918, but read to the
student body in the Library on “Ivy
nights.” These papers were copied
later by hand and bound together
in a leather folder.
November 11, 1918, the Armia-
tice was signed. The war was over!
It was a glorious yet a sad day. All
of us at S'alem marched in the Arm
istice parade — led by our three
flags — the U. S. flag, the service
flag, and the flag of the Bed Cross.
Now it is 1943 and we are again
at war w'ith the foreign powers.
Our situations are similar to those
of 1917, yet much more serious —
but it is as true today as it was
in 1917 “that the United States
must give until it hurts.” Food
shortages have begun to appear.
Casualty lists have been sent back.
From Europe comes a wail from
starving homeless millions. Think
carefully — what will 'you do to
help ”
—LUCY HEADS—
SAGA OF OSWALD AND THE QUEEN
Once upon a time there was a
monstrous, big, beautiful, heroic
cockroach who lived in the
ment of the Queen’s castle in Ice
land. Now this cockroach, whose
name was Oswald, wasn’t like just
any old cockroach. Oh, no! He had
great, gorgeous, pink, downy feath-
erg instead of conventional sleek
black ones. And he had tremendous,
shiny, purple toe-nails instead of
conventional dull brownish ones. In
fact, Oswald was definitely not a
conventional cockroach . . . you nev
er saw Oswald sneaking up between
the castle walls to scare the beau
teous Queen Tootsie Belle! While
all the other cockroaches were go
ing conventionally about their lowly
activities, Oswald squatted right
there in his luxurious apartment be-
tween the cheese boxes pining hig
* proud and noble heart out for a
single glimpse of the Queen.
But finally one day, Oswald felt
that he could bear it not one minute
longer. He had-lost his appetite, he
had caught the nervous jerks, he
had quit shooting craps with the
boys ... he had even lost interest
in brushing his gorgeous pink feath
ers a hundred strokes each night! 1
But the worst thing of all was that
he let things which had previously
delighted him suddenly become most
odious. The fragrance of his apart
ment, for instance: Oswald felt that
if he-had to sit there whiffing the
Eoquefort cheese on his right and
the Limburger cheese on his' left
much longer, he would surely up
chuck! But all poor Oswald could
do was sit there starving for the
sight of lovely Queen Tootsie Belle.
So late one night, when all his fel
low roaches had retired Oswald
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dragged forth the Morse Code out
line book, and dotted and dashed
his very soul out on to the water
pipes.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Queen Toot
sie Belle was busily engaged in her
nightly ritual. She was a wise
queen, and she realized that the
realms prestige depended upon her
own illustrious glamour. She, there
fore, took great care each night to
roll her long, glossy, red wig up
on tinted toilet tissue. And while
she sat facing her glamour in an
elaborate mirror, she barkened to
the strange, irregular noises on the
royal water pipes. “But,’ she sighed
heavily, “Our Majesty is perhaps
deceived; for, after all, there was'
that last little toddy.” S'o she dis
missed the matter lightly, and lan
guidly roused herself from her dain
ty dressing table. She was stroll
ing gracefully across the spacious
medieval clamber, when her silver
sandaled toe caught on the white
bear rug and threw the charming
Queen flat on her royal puss. Now
unquestionably Tootsie Belle was
the most renowned woman of glam
our since the Trojan Helen; but the
last half century was beginning to
take its toll somewhat . . . and then
too, even the coachmen suspected
Belle of hitting the imported moon
shine pretty hard. Does it seem odd
then that Iceland’s gracious Queen
had to bide the night on the spot
which she landed? As she lay there
squirming toward her marijuana
weeds, she listened to the tap-tap
tapping on the water pipes and
thought that Prince Brother John
was trying to eat corn on the cob
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again. Little did she dream that
the tap-tapping was a soulful mes
sage from the royal cellar.
Meanwhile Little Oswald grew
more and more wan, more and more
bored with the other roaches, more
and more inclined to drink, less and
less inclined to eat . . . and least
disposed to come down to his own
little earth between the cheese box
es. He couldn’t forget his hopeless
passion for Queen T B. So as he
lay there with a Zombie in one
hand and an apparition in the other,
he decided to abandon Morse Cod
ing on the water pipes and to take
more active measures. If only he
had a carrier pigeon, he might
write the Queen letters she could un
derstand ... if only he could write.
He toyed with this idea for quite
some months and thought it pretty
terrific. But Oswald wasn’t dumb.
Afer a while, he too saw the draw
backs in the scheme. He sighed
heavily, inhaled the gentle breeze
that skipped westward across the
Limburger cheese . . . and fainted
prostrate on his whiskers. This sort
of thing went on for months and
months. Oswald lay there cooking
up one lousy scheme right after
another until finally one day, he de
cided to give up scheming and con-
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centrate on drink.
Several months passed with Os
wald prostrate in the royal base
ment . . . and Queen Tootsie Belie
prostrate in the royal bedchamber.
Eventually, however, someone miss
ed Qu^n Tootsie Belle; for she
hadn’t been seen since that fatal
night of bear rug fame. The mys
tery of the missing Queen was
checked into . . . and good Queen
Tootise Belle was discovered there
on the granite floor. So a great
derrick was constructed by which
the Queen could be transferred to
a spot more befitting her illustri
ous glamour! . . .
(Ed’s note: This thing goes on
and on, but now’s as good a time
to stop as any—adios.)
—(C. J. N.)
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NISSilN BLBCt.
though she doesn’t play hockey or
basketball, she can always be found
at the games cheering her class
mates on, giving them chewing gum,
and yelling her lungs out from the
bleachers.
There she is folks — from Brat
and Eat to Class President to Stud
ent Government President — our
own Lucy Farmer!
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