Page Two.
THE SALEMITE
October 24, >947.
See4*ui
A SUCCESS STORY
by Catherine Gregory
Once, in a little town in North Carolina,
there lived a girl named Jaimal Alestomac.
(Her father was of French descent). She was
a quiet girl, mousy and unattractive in appear
ance, with a subdued and uninspired person
ality. In childhood she had shown only one
trace of individuality—while the other little
girls played in sand piles, she played in a rock
pile. She would hold the rocks in her hand
for hours, studying their structure and analy
sing their history.
Her school days were uneventful, and she
was eventually sent off to college. Unsuspect
ing, she went in the first day to tlie Propei*
Authorities to sign up for her courses. An
Authority, rat eyes twinkling behind her little
gold rims, smdingly asked her, “And now what
courses would you like to take?” As she said
the words, she put into Jaimal’s hand a sched
ule with the courses already mimeographed in.
“Oh thank you, but I don’t want to take
some of these. I want to be a geologist.' I
want—”
“All the freshmen take that course,” said
the Authority icily and gestured meaning
fully toward the alligator pit by her desk.
Jaimal ran out into the hall.
Strangely enough the same thing happened
her Sophomore year.
When she became a Junior, Jaimal thrilled
with hope when the Authority greeted her
with, “What do you want to major in?”
“Geology”, said Jaimal. “I just love rocks.
I—”
The Authority was turning through her
files. “Ilmmm. There is a vacant seat in Ad
vanced Theory. You can be a Music Major.”
Jaimal looked into the pit at the sleek,
well-fed alligators, and smiled weakly.
At graduation, Jaimal found herself with
a Voice Major. Born a monotone, she now pos
sessed w'hat might well have been one of the
most fully developed monotones in the world.
One day she went to hear a lecture on Rock
Layers. The room numbers of the building
were not clearly marked and, going through
the wrong door, she found herself auditioning
with a three piece orchestra. Their number
was “Body and Soul” played in the key of D
flat. That happened to be her monotone, which
was a fortunate coincidence. Deep voices were
in vogue then, and so the station master hired
her.
On the air she was heard by a visiting
Persian prince of fabulous wealth. Her voice
reminded him of the oolool, a wind instrument
fashioned of tomato cans upon which his old
nurse used to play to lull him to sleep. He
wired her a proposal. It had nothing to do
with her voice, even less with geology, so she
declined it.
The next day she was carried by her par
ents, bound and gagged, in a wheelbarrow to
the parcel post office, where she was wrapped
and shipped to the Prince. “Nothing but the
best for our girl, whether she wants it or not,”
said her parents as they walked away.
She lived in Persia for several years, and
when the Prince died from an excess of pome
granates, she escaped to Algiers. There she
opened a little smoky night club, and did a
floor show every night accompanied by a nat
ive playing the oolool. The club was narrow,
dirty, hot, and the tourists thronged there by
the hundreds clutching roles of American
dollars.
Every night at three, one of the two can
dles was put out, and the sobbing of the oolool
would begin. Weaving her way from table to
table, Jaimal would sing of lost loves and
beautiful sad days gone forever and wasted
lives and the joys and sorrows of the wicked
world. After her song was done there would
be a great moment of silence, then everyone
would shout and cry and throw fistfuls of
money at her feet. Jaimal would pick up a
fifty dollar bill, stroke it thoughtfullj" and say,
“I really wanted to be a geologist.” It never
failed to bring down the house.
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Scholars Unearth, Decipher;
Discoverers Elucidate, Date
by Tootsie Gillespie
and Dale Smith
A very ancient stone, found in the
northern end of the May Dell, con
tains many and varied inscriptions
which seem to be of an Egyptian
character. This suggests that per
haps, contrary to geological and his
torical opinions, Egyptian civiliza
tion started on Salem College cam
pus. It might also indicate that
Ignaz Safranski, a precocious lad of
ten years wlio lived in this region
in the eighteenth century, might
have recorded his thoughts on rock
while teaching the alphabet to the
ants and then have thrown the rock
away when his interests turned to
tight-rope walking. The possibility
that a cat walked over some wet
cement and then buried it has also
been considered, but it was decided
that a cat would look quite foolish
lugging a whole sidewalk down to
the May Dell.
At any rate, after tedious trans
lation, the following, however broken
in thought and meaning it may be,
has been given to you. It seems to
be a very early account of the his
tory of Salem College. It’s authen
ticity is not guaranteed, however:
In 200 B. C., a man named Kond-
thalicus Oedipus Julius Erectus
(which was his full name) founded
a school for delinquent girls which
he called “Salema Agricola” (from
the Latin word meaning “school”)-
The first student, a person of doubt
ful feminine gender called Clytaem-
nestra (Russian for “Chloe”) Um
laut, was sent to the school because
of a mild psychosis, an Electra Com
plex. She was also rather fond of
her only brother, Comicus Umlaut,
who wanted her sent away from
home because he had an Oedipus
Complex. The father, however, was
not in accord with this idea and, as
a result, Comicus died shortly after,
when the father, in a fit of pique,
crushed his head with a small part
of the Eosetta stone which, w'C
might add, is missing to this day.
Miss Umlaut’s first words upon ar
rival at Salema Agricola were: (here
the translation is a bit hazy and
it is the translator’s feeling that
Miss Umlaut would not like to be
quoted.
The second, and last student, to
attend Salema Agricola, one Cavan-
dish Coloneus, was a dull girl ad
dicted to knife throwing. She also
played the clavicord by ear, which
won her many life-long friends.
If we are able to believe the trans
lation, it seems that one day Isthmus
and Clytaemnestra were engaged in
a playful game of girls’ wrestling
when Clytaemnestra good-naturedly
broke Isthmus’ left arm, whereupon
Isthmus immediately took out one
of her knives and playfully cut off
Clytaemnestra’s toes up to the knee
cap (Egyptian: “neepus kapus”).
From then on, the two girls were
inseparable.
The translation may not be en
tirely correct but it is sufficiently
clear to throw a great deal of light
on Salem’s ancient culture and his
tory).
With apologies to Max Schulman,
Sophocles, Freud, Robert Benehley,
Euripides, Darius the Great, the
Persian Army, Ignaz Safranski and
Oscar Schubert, a boy scout from
the Bronx.)
Reporter Stresses Need
For Intellectual Curiosity
by Peirano Aiken
Books are no magic potions that
automatically bestow Carnegie per
sonalities or Socratic intellects.
Taken, however, as a substitute for
the aimless diversions of most of us,
a literary education has the power
of lifting lives out of the rut in
which lives tend to settle.
One such program was reported
in last year’s October issue of Iiife.
According to a “Great Books” plan
originated by John Erskine and
Robert Hutchins, merchants, white-
collar warkers and industrial work
ers are meeting every two weeks to
discuss one book from a list of clas
sics. There are now hundreds of
these and similar groups scattered
around the country—very ordinary
men and women intelligently con
versing about a Platonic theory or
a Shakespearean plot. Literacy is
no longer the exclusive privilege of
the college graduate: now it is the
right of everyone and an expected
credential of the college student.
Probably the greatest hindrance
to Salem students ’ doing outside
reading ig the lack of time. Most
of us are already engrossed in as
many extracurricular activities as
possible, and there are very few who
would have time for a formal liter
ary organization. But why couldn’t
some good books be given a place
in those clubs already established,
particularly the language clubs?
Another suggestion, that might re
sult in more fun, is for smaller
groups of those interested in reading
the same book to meet informally in
the dorms and let each girl voice
her ow» opinion.
Intellectualism is not important;
but a desire to know, to think and
to express one’s own opinion is a
sign of maturity, which is important.
anyway, Schulman surely
wouldn’t mind sharing a few bull-
sessions with—say, Tolstoy.
. . . wishes to thank personally everyone who
helped to make our dance a success. To mem
bers of the student body who worked diligently
on the decorations; to Miss Essie and her help,
Mr. Kegan, Mr. Lawrence, and Miss Stockton;
to the faculty and deans who cooperated with
us in our many requests—we say thanks. The
dance was for your enjoyment; with your help
it was a success.
Mary Bryant
96. Q44AiatfU4A4^
... at this time of the school year to make
some explanation of the purpose and nature
of the Order of the Scorpion.
It must be made clear that the organization
is a secret one—secret in regard to member
ship and meetings as well as activities. This
is in order that the work of the group may be
carried on without bestowing credit on any
particular individual, 'and so that the group
may undertake improvements and remedy
certain situations at Salem which go unseen
by other organizations.
Membership in the organization should not
be looked upon as honorary, for it is composed
of those who have shown a sincere desire to
initiate improvements at Salem and who have
proved their willingness to see that such de
sires and needs are fulfilled.
....
The Salemite commends Margaret McCall
on her appointment as Fire Chief for the year
1947-48. This position is a responsible one, and
considerable thought preceded the appointment
by Mr. Weinland. We know that Salem is de
pendent on its buildings not only for their
functional uses, but also for their historical
significance. Only the cooperation of the girls
in practicing fire safety-rules can insure the
permanency of our buildings. Therefore, each
girl must shoulder personal responsibiliy in
reducing fire hazards. Danger of our all burn
ing up is somewhat lessened from last year with
the “Clewell Smoke House” problem and the
“Sisters’ ” problem seemingly solved. Continue
the good work, girls, and cooperate with
Margaret!
Salemite
Published every Friday of the College year by the
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uioria
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