North Carolina Newspapers

    Page Two
THE SALEMITE
February 27, 1948
A.
I want to take this opportunity to thank
everyone who helped make Play Day a success.
It was a success, not because of what the A. A.
did, but becaoise of the splendid co-operation
we received from all sides. I want to thank es
pecially the students who shared their rooms
and beds with the girls from other schools who
stayed over-night. A big “thanks” is also due
to all of you who helped to entertain these
girls and who did all you could to make their
stay at Salem a happy one. Everyone from the
schools represented here Saturday was impres
sed with the friendly atmosphere of Salem.
Many girls told us that they had never had
such a good time and had never met a more,
friendly group of girls. These are not com
pliments to the A. A., but they are compliments
to all Salem girls.
I want to thank, too, the administration
who co-operated with us in every way possible.
Without their help, it would have been im
possible for us to have this Play Day. Another
thanks is due Miss Stockton and the kitchen
staff who gave the girls a meal and a party
that they will never forget.
Yes, Play Day was a big supcess because
you made it one.
Here’s hoping that Salem will have many
more Play Days in the years to come and that
everyone will co-operate in the same wonderful
way that you did this year.
Ann Carothers
A. President
Whatever became of the committee formed
to keep the calendar from being jammed up?
Last week, there were three movies on campus,
a lecture and Play Day. Frem the looks of
the calendar between now and commencement
either the students are going to stop working
or not attend any of the cultural events offered.
Why don’t we ever have exchange classes
between various members of the faculty? For
instance, when a class is studying English Ro
manticism, why not let Dr. Jordan give one
of his inimitable lectures on Rousseau and Vol
taire. Or if painting and sculpture are being
discussed in varous history courses let Mr.
Bromberg give his talks on the particular art
ist. The discussions would have to bo super
ficial; but why not have a sketch from an ex
pert instead of just anybody? This would also
give the students a chance to hear some of the
faculty under whom they have never studied.
• • • •
Joan Carter Beed is editor of tljjs week’s Salemite.
Next treek’s guest editors will be Dale Smitli and
Bonnie Aiken.
Salemite
f
Published every Friday of the College year by the
Student body of Salem College ,
Downtown Office—304-306 South Main Street
Printed by the Sun Printing Company
OFFICES
Lower floor Main Hall
Subscription Price—$2.75 a year
EDITORIAL DEPARTMENT
Editor-in-Chief Peggy Davis
Associate Editor — Peggy Gray
Assistant Editor Nancy Carlton
Assistant Editor — Carolyn Taylor
Make-up Editors: Margaret Carter, Dale Smith
Copy Editors: Laurel Green, Clara Bello LeGrande
Feature Editor Mary Porter Evans
Music Editor Margaret McCall
Sports Editor Gloria Paul
Editorial Staff: Cat Gregory, Peirano Aiken, Betsy
Boney, Marilyn Booth, Janie Morris
Editorial Assistants: Dot Arrington, Helen Brown,
Deb"bie Sartin, Anne Dungan,
Zetta Cabrera, Tootsie Gillespie,
Frances Giilepian, Susan John
son, Joy Martin, Mary Mot-
singer, Joan Carter Read, Andy
Rivers, Peggy Sue Taylor, Bar
bara Ward, Amie Watkins, Fran
Winslow.
C«b Reporters: Betty Page Beal, Mary Elizabeth
Weiver.
Filists and Typists: Betty Holbrook, Marilyn Watson
Pictorial Editors: Ruby Moye, Peggy Watkins.
BUSINESS DEPARTMENT
Business Manager Eliza Smith
Assistant Business Manager Jane Morris
Advertising Manager Betsy Schaum
Assistant Advertising Manager Mary Hill
Circulation Manager Virginia Connor
CEEING THANGC
by Catherine Gregory
VARSITY Mogoilne
For Young Men
"Wlien they pcr j-ze in game, they really penalize."
Struggling Scribes ,..
by Peirano Aiken
The Wiiting Workshop booklet of Miss Byrd’s second year composi
tion class is “out”, in case you haven’t noticed the cessation of moans
from her literary neophytes. More place description, illusion of reality,
definite point of view, dominant impression—what “comp” student does
n’t have a ringing in the ears from these refrains!
The booklet contains eighteen complete compositions by lone Brad-
sher, Nancy Carlton, Jane Church, Hazel Crenshaw, Mary Porter Evans,
lane Morris, Margaret Eaynal, Frances Reznick, Carolyn Taylor, Frances
Scott, and Marilyn Booth, an ex-member. Three short excerpts from
papers by Dot Arrington, Isabelle Leeper and Betsy McAuley are also
included.
These pieces are mainly incidents and not stories. Showing various
' means of characterization are “Life With Father,” a humerous outright
character essay, and Marilyn’s “Pierre”, written in the medium of a
small boy’s thoughts about a French camp friend and cleverly portraying
both children. “The Closed Door” by lone deals with character through
incident: it’s about a little girl who visits a friend whose grandfather
has died. Some of the dialogue is delightful: we must quote:
‘You djon’t look sad—Are you?
‘Certainly, I am, I feel like crying—You better go home.’ And again,
when asked if the body could be seen, the young hostess replies, n’Sure,
I ’ve seen him fifty times already. ’
Genuinely humorous “Intervale School” by Porter and “Night
Watch”, a picture of Mocksville as seen through the eyes of a night-
watchman and recorded with some social implications by Jana Morris,
are the best examples of place description.
Either from their own or Miss Byrd’s inclination, the comp writers
used chiefly real life situations and wrote in the more common mediums.
There are no poets this year to take the place of Catherine Gregory and no
satirists like Nancy MsColl. For variety’s sake the book would have
been enhanced too by one or two more imaginative numbers. The only
piece that borders on fantasy is Booty’s “The Mirror”, about a personi
fied mirror that reflects and reflects on a family of drab women and their
^'self-delusions. Also Pinky’s “Back and Forth” (in the last Salemite)
is experimental, impressionistic and commendable.
The stories with plot, excepting “The Red Sash” by Jane Church and
“Birthday Party” by Waldo, are mostly ambitious but not quite success
ful attempts. The former concerns a woman whose dull husband gradu
ally stifles her individuality and cuts her off from her friends. The
latter, told in the first person, is about a child who meets class distinction
for the first time when she is forbidden to have a playmate from the
mill to her birthday party. Of all the booklets we shall remember “Birth
day Party” the longest—perhaps because it has something to say and
says it compactly and with feeling.
A survey indicates that the best work is done in short incidents and
in stream of consciousness, usually first person. Also parents and children
make the best subjects. This possibly explained by the fact that the
process of growing is one of seeing more, of acquiring the broader point
of view. Thus, it is difficult for the young writer to get outside of his
personal experience and expression and still be able to interpret with
understanding-
Northrop Lecture Brings
Various Campus Comments
“What did you think of'Northrop??’
Good? Bad? Indifferent? Flop?
The reporter got weary
Of inquiry
And finally decided to stop.
*****
She did, however, gather a few
reactions, to Dr. Northrop’s lecture
last Thursday night which were as
follows:
Mary Lou' Langhorne: Iir. North
rop’s plea for a common ideology to
save us from another war was vague
ly hopeful. However, with two bil
lion people on the earth, nine-tenths
of whom have no ideas, and the re
mainder, rugged individualists, each
of whom has his own answer, I think
it will take nothing less than a
“second coming” to prevent war.
Iiib Kennedy: Although Northrop
had an interesting philosophical ap
proach, he didn’t fully discuss the
practical application of his “ideo
logy”.
Peggy Gray: , Idealistic, but nice.
M. J. Trager: Too idealistic. He
didn’t discuss the economic and
sociological factors fully. His “ideo
logy” isn’t one concerned with our
civilization.
Trances Gulesian: Even though
people might not agree with a word
the speaker says, is’s good to go to
the lectures anyway—just to’'keep
from forgetting completely that
there are some' really big things
happening.
Carolyn Taylor: pptimistic in
his ideas, though they weren’t very
practical.
Marion Ellis: Northrop’s ideas
were good, but he repeated himself
too much.
Mr. Leach: I enjoyed it. He
didn’t say anything that was no^
already in the book. His analysis
of the difficulties in France was
correct. I disagreed with Northrop
in his belief that we have to get a
world ideology before we get world
government because we can give
adequate definitions' to amount of
terms necessary to set world govern
ment into effect in area, and in in
ternational security.
There was all about that hushed suspense
which the world has when winter is over, and
spring has not yet come. The air was fresh,
the earth was green, and Little Mumbly looked
at the world w'ith joyful eyes. She felt wonder
ful. Exuberantly she pushed back her bangs
and breathed, deeply. For one transcendent
moment she felt really alive. She looked at
the great world and laughed aloud for pure
joy. The next thing she knew, damp clinging
tendrils were clutching and entangling her. It
seems that she had inadvertently walked into
a willow tree.
Desperately she fought her way clear and
had just stumbled out, when she became aware
of a figure bearing down upon her.
“Wait!” said Miss Byrd, for she was it.
“Peterson’s coming!” she said as she drew near
er. Paul Revere and his midnight message
could not have been more urgent. Litle Mum
bly stood paralyzed with fear.
“Listen,” said Miss Byrd with real des
peration, “Peterson’s coming and you’ve got
to write a paper for him to criticize. Now go
back and create. Put your soul in it and have
it in by two o’clock.” And she w'as gone.
Little Mumbly ran full speed back to the
dorm and wrote for three hours. Then she
arose, completely drained, her mind blarik.
Out of the dorm she walked, staring vacantly.
She walked and walked, no thought in her
mind, dazed and silent.
Then slowly she became aware of souilds,
of movements. There were shouts—whistles—
and she was dressed in a white gym suit.
“Where am I”, she said.
Hands propelled her along. The cheers
grew. “Get out and fight” someone said to
her. She slowly focused her eyes and looked
about. There were people running, and there
was Miss Stout!
“Win Play Day!” she shouted encourag
ingly to Little Mumbly, and motioned her on
the court.
“Help!”, screamed Little Mumbly.
“Play Ball!” said the referee.
And so, because she always gave in when
Pate had conquered her, Little Mumbly made
the best of the situation in which she found her
self and played basketball for two hours.
Late that afternoon, as the sun was fading
and long shadows left the gym in darkness, a
small figure staggered through the door and
out into the afternoon. It was Little Mumbly.
The game had long been over, the people gone,
• but she had just recovered sufficient strength
to start the weary climb. She was dazzled by
the last remaining sunlight, she shivered slight-
13^ as the air stirrfed around her. Then she
hunched her shoulders and began to toil Up
ward. A passerby, looking into her face, would ,
have seen there no vestige of personality or of
any human qualities. For you see, though she
had had full command of her limited resources
that morning, the paper had drained her ment
ally, and. the game took away her physical
strength.
At last she seemed to weaken, and she tot
tered. One thought found its way through her
mind, then she dropped to the ground.
“The new spirit is sweeping the country!”
a compelling voice said into her ear hours later.
She lifted her head from the ground and lock
ed 'around.
“That’s it, dearie! Out of the mire of dirty
capitalism! Join the party!” Two men and a
woman were bending over her. Little Mumbly
painfully moved and turned to them.
“Win with Wallace!” she said.
MlKjJt . . .
Susie Knight
Ever together are mind and wind,
Sweeping anxiously thru the darkness,
Picking up stray bits of unknown thoughts
Then casting them aside as known ones.
Mind and wind together.
Always reaching for the new,
Always searching for the different,
Hurriedly flipping thru the pages
That reveal the wonders of life.
Ever searching, ever seeking,
Trying to find the promised land—
Onward„ outward, ever reaching,
Leaving no thought untouched.
No leaf'unturned.
    

Page Text

This is the computer-generated OCR text representation of this newspaper page. It may be empty, if no text could be automatically recognized. This data is also available in Plain Text and XML formats.

Return to page view