Newspapers / Salem College Student Newspaper / May 9, 1947, edition 1 / Page 2
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Pai^e Two. THE SALEMITE May 9, 1947. Whx)- Qeti. Pie? A week of confused debates before the United Nations General Assembly lias revealed two major facts about the Palestine problem—neither Britain nor the United States want independence for Palestine, and both are hostile to the ex pression of Jewish opinion. This poses some sharp alternatives for the Jewish Agency. If they continue to rely on Britain, they face continued terror ism, immigration bars and a handcuffed economy. The Jewish leadership has already learned that they cannot depend on the United States, as was shown by the inauguration issue and American interests in Arab oil. The only solution to the problem of peace in the Holy Land is a mutual settlement between Jews and Arabs for their National and Democratic rights. Otherwise, the issue of inde pendence remains a monopoly of the Arab leaders, for sincere or tactical purposes. Cooperation is a difficult method, but no more difficult than the paths which have been tried and have failed. This method will defeat any further attempts to play-off the Arabs against the Jews. By approaching national independence of the Holy Land through an Arab-Jewish settlement, economic and cultural development can advance and Britain’s manda tory control can be removed from the Palestine pie. Rosalie Green. SIEIEIIN© ¥IHAVN©jr It seems that a large part of the faculty are leaving this year with the 175th anniversary. Every day one hears of another professor who has resigned. What Salem will do with out Hixson, McEwen, Evett, Hill, Wood, and Hewitt is far beyond conception. The faithful standbys of many years at Salem seem to be taking the ways of the Arabs and silently stealing away. Without doubt utter chaos will reign, and if many more leave, Salem will be left with tradition only. You of the best are leaving us. No words to say how much you have done for Salem and how large a gap your absence will leave in our lives here. ftcuCtQf • • • • We want better chapel programs or more chapel cuts. A speaker who Ihinks his subject trite and who reads his speech cannot be inspiring. The repetition of the same subject during one school year does not make for attentive listening, and w'e suggest that topics of general interest be chosen whenever pos sible. We would like to see more student programs such as those presented by the speech class, the Choral Ensemble, and the Modern Dance Club. Both the Y and IRS have sponsored inspiring and entertaining speakers, and we hope there will be more such chapel programs in the future. L. D. ^alemitc Published every Friday of the College year by the Student body of Balem College Downtovrn 0ffice-^304-30fi South Main Street Printed by the Sun Printing Company OFFICES Alice Clewell Building-Basement Subscription Price—$2.00 a year—IQc g copy EDITORIAL DFPAETMENT Editor-in-Chief Peggy Davis Associate Editor Peggy Gray Assistant Editor Nancy Carlton Assistant Editor - Carolyn Taylor Make-up Editor Margaret Carter . Copy Editor Jane Paton Feature Editor Mary Porter Evans Music Editor Margaret McCall Sports Editor Gloria Paul Editorial Staff: Cat Gregory, Nancy McColl, Peirano Aiken, Betsy Boney, Marilyn Booth Editorial Assistants: Dot Arrington, Mary Bryant, Zetta Cabrera, Debbie Darr Sartin, Louise Dod son, Ann Dungan, Barbara Folger, Lauiel Green, Rosalie Green, Evelyn Gillespie, Frances Gules- ian, Roberta Huffman, Susan Johnson, Elizabeth Lee, Joy Martin, Mary Motsinger, Joan Carter Read, Andy Rivers, Betsy Schaum, Peggy Sue Taylor, Ruth Van Hoy, Barbara Ward, Amie Watkins, Fran Winslow. Filists and Typists: Betty Holbrook and Margie Crickmer. Pictorial Editor: Ruby Moye. BUSINESS DEPARTMENT Business Manager ; Eliza Smith Assistant Business Manager Jane Morris Advertising Manager Betsy Schaum Assistant Advertising Manager Mary Hill Circulation Manager Virginia-Connor If Kubla Khan Tootsie Chan This poetry’s working me overtime So don’t expect this stuff to rhyme. I’m to sing my praises to you And really I’ve gotten honors too few! J. Powers has written me, “What’s the matter? Hav'e you gotten too thin? Gotten fatter? Don’t the girls at Salem realize you’ve got the beauty men idolize? You’re wonderful, lovely and all of that! Without VOLT, the May Court’s BOUND to go flat!” There’s a few other thugs that peo ple don’t know. Why, I’m the one to make this school grow! I use Ponds, Lux, and Rinso White And I’m always in bed at eleven each night. In Miss Byrd’s class. I’m smart as a whip But somehow, I alway.s find glue on my lip! Dr. Willoughby has consulted me' On Shakespeare’s life and family tree. WHY can’t folks see that I’d be the one To give this .school its “place in the sun”? I’m just not appreciated, I guess. When I’m nominated, sophs just WON’T say “YES!” I’ve been nominated for things from treas. on down To “In Charge of Tiddly-Winks on West End Playground”. Why, when I was born they put me up As the most promising contestant for the Dry Diaper Cup. But as usual I lost that election, too! (Mother left me out in the new fall- dew!) At four years of age, I could walk up the wall But that wouldn’t do. Thay said I was too tall! I could blow square smoke rings at the age of six' But my opponent blew his NAME was I in a fix! At the agje of eight, I began to sing But I was beat at that cause along came Bing. Once in high school I was elected, you know, For “Chairman in Charge of Making Bubble Gum Blow”. By the time I reached college, I be gan to think I’d NEVER go over. I’d just STAY' on the brink. But my ship came in the other day! My talents are here and they’re here to stay. I was elected Librarian of the Cho ral Ensemble •A.nd if THAT ain’t an. office. What IS? P. S. I pick up trash in ths Salemite office too! Berry Writes Dear Miss Wilson: Always will live in my memory the delightful hours that I spent with you and your girls. I could not pos- siblj' have been received more graciously and I should like to com mend here my lovely guides who proved veritable wells of inform ation. Thank you for having me and please remember to call to see me if you come to New Y’ork n June. I plan to spend July and August in Europe with my husband. Sincerely, Dorothie Berry, Since the creation of this column a few short weeks ago, cxcitement has run high among literate people. All have agreed that this bids fair to be one of the notable events of our time. There has been nothing but praise on all sides. (Those with com-' plaints approach from the front and back.) The response has been enorm ous, and people have been quick to express their delight and approval. Here are exeerpts from letters and remarks: My room mate - “Ouch! I don’t mind reading it so much, I guess . . . now may I have my ear back?” Mrs. M. Deficient Gregory — “Keep sending them papers home! All the winders are broke out, and the chimbly flu needs to be stuffed up too, now that Sprang’s here. Them papers come in real handy.” Mr. Vernacular O. Gregory — “You cain’t do ought that ain’t all right with me and your grammar, Grandaughter!” And these are just a few of the many comments we have received. *** Little Mumbly threw down her books rebelliously. “Mumble, mnm- ble, mnmble”, she said in a rising crescendo, anger and desperation in her every syllable. Her room mate, trained to interpet through years of experience, turned to the other girls in the smokehouse who had crowded curiously around. “She says. I’m sick of this hole, let’s go to the movie^ They broke into spontaneous ap- plause. “How in the world can you understand her? It’s a miracle! But it’s a good idea . . . let’s be off!” They chorused in unison and all rush ed out to the bus stop. They threw a cordon across the street and climb ed into One of the cars that stopped. Little Mumbly sat in front next to the driver. “Where yawl girls going?”, he asked sociably, turning to Little Mumbly. “Mumble, mumble, mumble,” she smiled. “Good Lord!” he screamed, and pressed on the gas. He threw open the doors in front of the theatre let them out, and sped off. They could see his strained face peering back' at them. “I wonder what he thought she said”, said one of the girls as she bought a ticket. “We’ll never know. As a matter of fact, I wonder what she did say”. They went into the theatre. Thg feature was a thrilling thing, with gangsters, tough heros, and tougher women weaving in and out of menacing shadows on the shady side of the law. Little Mumbly was absolutely carried away. She watch ed entranced, her -little face up turned, one hand feeding popcorn with machine^like precision, the other hand feeding chocolate drops alternately. Her little eyes sparkled behind her glasses. Soon, too soon, her room mate jostled her. ‘ ‘ Get up, stoopid, you have sitten through it twice al ready.” Her room mate was an Eng lish major. Little Mumbly got up, but the world of illusion went with her. She was lithe, blond, and she slinked seductively down the street. Men turned to stare as they went into the drug store. “Whiskey straight,” she said to the waitress^ • “One orangeade,” called the wait ress to the counter. Little Mumbly tossed it off, threw a dime and a penny careless ly on the counter, and slinked out. She undulated down the street, followed by the eyes of everyone. She waited at the bus stop, still feeling like Lauren Bacall, obliv ious to the world around her. She glanced about her with sultry eyes, gazing cynically at the stores. And .suddenly she stopped, stricken. For there, transfixed in the furni ture store mirror, was a small, sag gy figure . . . herself! Staggering back against the wall, she uttered a small broken mumble. A nearby woman mistook her to say that she had scarlet fever. Crying .Run, Run, the lady spread the alarm, and the bus stop was speedily de serted. Little Mumbly and her friends got to sit down on the bus because it wasn’t crowded, and so It really was all for the best. But ' Little Mumbly was shaken and dispirited for several days after. For she had seen Illusion and Real ity side by side, and that is a searing experience for anyone. Catherine Gregory. Salem Soothsayer Sees Special Sights and Signs The dimly-lit room into which I walked was filled with a strange incense. It created an overpow ering, heavy-laden atmosphere; breath seemed to be at a premium. Seated behind a table placed in the center of th room was an old, old woman. Her dark skin was drawn tightly over her long, pro nounced cheekbones; her black eyes were emphasized by the Sep hol-j lows surrounding thm. She 'vas a gypsy fortune teller. A silence, heavy as the scent in the air, gave me a second impres sion of being weighted down by some invisible power. When the old woman sj>oke, a chill ran over me, and I wanted' to do the oppo site of her requestto run away in stead of sitting down in front of the table. Her eyes', however, made me obey. , I sat down and gingerly placed my hand, palm up, on the table. “PfP!” she cried and gestured for me to move my hand. A look of scorn for the moment replaced the bright sharpness in her eyes. She called out a name too quickly for me to catch it. A tall, dark-skinned man entered the room from a door I had not seen before and brought to the table a large crystal globe. The g.vpsy woman’s eyes spark led as she placed her hands on each side of the globe. She looked deep into it (IS a thirsty person drinks a deep draught of water, and then she raised her eyes to the level of mine. At that instant the incense rose in a wave of sensation and my head swam with an inxeplain- able dizziness. “I See,” began the gypsy, “all you "wish to know and all you are afraid to know. Be it past, pres ent, future, it is bSfore me now.” “The future,” I whispered. * “The past will be revealed first for the kind lady - if she will place two dollars ,})efore the globe.” This was done. The intonations of tlie gypsy began. “It is May Day at Salem and everywhere there is great joy and many greetings. Of the class of ‘45 come Jo McLaughlin, Rachel Pinks ton, Mary Frances McNeely, Molly Koseman, Genny Frasier, Jane Fraz ier, Lib Beckwith, Mary Lou Lang- Jiwn, Hazel Watts, and Margaret ulloek. From the ‘40 class appear Juha Garrett, Nell Denning, Dee Little, Senora Lindsey, and Peg Witherington. Present also is the famous Misfi Grace Lawrence, for mer Dean of Women. I see the pageant coming to a close. In a corner of the May Dell, a hrong of people surround a tiny, sobbing child. She has just run up to Miss Stout, asking and crying desperately for her mother. Miss Marsh suggests holding the little girl up so that her mother may see hei, someone places her on a chair and soon a young couple -rush up, ho ding in their arms an exact dup licate of the lost child. Everyone breathes a sigh of relief and quickly pushes the first child toward the couple. “But wait!” the supposed mother^ries. “We want to get rid of this one!” And both children, un doubtedly twins, are thrust into the arms of Miss Stout and Miss Marsh. Finally the real mother of the lost twins is found and the sun shines once more on the tearfully damp May Dell. The present, “j ggg muej, pack ing for week-end trips,” continues the gypsy- “Margaret Spillman is boarding the plane for Wash ington, and at the same airport, Frances Winslow is leaving for (Continued on page four)
Salem College Student Newspaper
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May 9, 1947, edition 1
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