Page Two
THE SALEMITE
SB
May 4. iQ^i
Red.p>o-*tie> . . .
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 $2.73 a year
Editor-in-Chief Jane Watson
Associate Editor Lola Dawson
Assistant Editor Eleanor MacGregor
Make-up Editor Peggy Cheats
Copy Editor Ann Lowe
Copy Editor Ruthie Derrick
Sports Editors Jane Fearing, Helen Ridgeway
Editorial Staff: Jean Patton. Betty Parks. Lorrie Dirom,
Margaret Thomas. Elsie Macon, Kitty Burrus and Marion
Watson.
Editorial Assistants: Florence Spaugh, Edith Tesch, Lou
Bridgers, Eleanor Fry. Peggy Johnson. Lu Long Ogburn,
Jean Calhoun. Cynthia May. Emma Sue Larkins. Jean
Davenport, Fay Lee. Jane Schoolfield, Florence Cole, Edith
Flagler. Joan Elrick, Phyllis Forrest and Joann Belle.
Typists Betty McCrary, Lou Bridgers
Business Manager Emily Warden
Advertising Manager Ann Hobbs
Asst. Advertising Manager Jean Shope
Circulation Manager Martha Fitchett
Exchange Editor Fae Deaton
Pictorial Editor Marion Watson
Faculty Advisor Miss Jess Byrd
Dear Daddy.. •
Let’s look ill on Room 4 for two different
meetings, one a nominating committee meet
ing, the other a finance board meeting.
Tliere’s a surprising difference in the amount
of interest and enthusiasm of the committee
which is trying to get money and the com
mittee which is considering the persons who
will head the spending of that money.
First let’s sit in on a nominating committee
meeting. The Stee Gee president begins by
telling the organization heads that they may
be completely frank for nothing that is said
will go outside of Room 4. She then reads
the list of candidates suggested by the respec
tive organizations. The meeting is now open
for discussion and careful consideration.”
Someone says, “Mary would be good.”
“I think so too.”
Silence . . .
“I’d like to discuss Ann. She’s dependable.”
“1 think so too.”
So the meeting goes—And the candidates
are eventually posted.
Xow for a visit with the finance committee—
Kach representative is called upon for a re
port of her organization’s expenditures and
reipiests for increases in their share of the
student budget. Then the controversy begins.
The Pierrettes ask to be placed on the bud
get at 75 cents so that they might use any
siirjilus to build up wardrobe and stage equip
ment. They are alloted 65 cents on the basis
that this is their first year on the budget and
their share should be on trial and subject to
change next ymir, if necessary.
A suggestion that dorm fees be added to
the binlget so that dorms may finance more
activities is voted down because organizations
already established are felt to need the money
more.
The meeting [irogresses and is notable for
the fairness in presenting both sides of the
controversies.
It seems a shame that the response and in
terest in nominating committee meetings isn’t
even half as good as in finance meetings when
the officers you elect direct the expenditures
from the student budget.
HedypXi^Ui/ulltif . . .
The student body appreciates the fact that
the members of the faculty try in every way
possible to treat us as women who are able
to accept the responsibilities that come with
maturity.
This has been proved several times in the
last three weeks. The petition for closed
week-end to be opened has been passed. The
purpose of c lose d week-end is to give the
students more time to study—now the respon
sibility rests upon the individual.
The time limit for the May Day Dance has
been set at one o’clock, 30 minutes longer than
the usual time to be in the dorm after a
dance. This is on trial and no student may
leave cam])us after leaving the dance—now
the responsibility rests upon the individual.
Thirdly, the cuts system has been changed.
Htudents now have cuts given them for illness
and departmental activities. There is no
longer the danger of using all cuts in the in
firmary. The higher the student’s average
the more cuts she will get. Thus we have
more incentive to make a B average—now the
resi)onsibility rests upon the individual.
By Phyllis Forrest
Dear Daddy:
Tomorrow is May Day—my first
one at Salem. They’ve been prac
ticing for a pageant in the May
Dell—Lucy Harper is going to be
crowned queen.
1 was reading about all the Afay
Day plans in the paper the other
day, and I discovered that the Com
munists had May Day, too. Theirs
was on the first day of May, and
it wasn’t at all like ours is going
to be. They had huge military
parades in ail the big cities in
Europe, and their leaders made
speeches. The theme was supposed
to be “Peace,” but the headline in
the paper read: “Berlin, France,
Other Trouble Spots Brace for
Worker’s May Day Rallies.”
Daddy, I got interested in that
newspaper—the world is really in
a mess—1 think. Britain is ready
to agree to bombing China; Tru
man has asked 40 billion dollars for
military funds; the Reds have lost
75,000 men—I couldn’t find how
many we have lost; and, oh yes,
the labor unions are returning to
the defense mobilization agencies
after a two-month strike. Their
leaders are really on the ball;
they’re going to turn the heat on
Congress to insure “equality of
sacrifice” in the defense effort.
They argue about a few cents, but
those fellows in Korea—the ones
who won’t come back couldn t
argue. You know what t I think
the world leaders, or the men who
write the newspapers, or somebody
—maybe me—is confused, fnte'''
nationally they talk about peace,
inside U. S. A. the word is de
fense;” but nobody admits what it
really is. I wish you’d tell me
don’t or can’t people say w' h a t
they mean any more ?
Drew’ Pearson insinuates that Mac-
Arthur made one of those blunders
that “it is definite military policy
not to publicize.” Would it be better
to heed General Bradley, who
wants “all the cards on the table
no matter w^hose errors it shows
up,” or should we continue in the
policy of keeping quiet on the em
barrassing military mistakes ? The
military men can’t agree.
I’m getting all confused; I'd
better stop thinking. I’ve got to
press my dress for the May Day
Dance anywa}'. Kiss my mother.
Tell my brother to be careful with
the car (the accident rate is get
ting higher). And,' please, they
want everybody to cross their fin
gers and hope for a sunny day
tomorrow.
Lots of love.
Sissy
of
Letters To The Editor
Dear Editor
Just what does make good stu
dent-faculty relations ?
When I hear girls sitting around
the smoke house complaining about
“the bad student-faculty relations
at Salem,” I wonder if they realize
it’s a 50-50 proposition. After all,
\’Ou can’t see a professor’s smile
if 3'ou don’t even look his way
when you pass on the street. And
what faculty member anywhere
can be enthusiastic on student-
faculty day when nine girls chit
chat over his head at dinner about
their date for that night, all ap
parently quite oblivious to his pre
sence ?
Could it be that the “bad” stu
dent-faculty relation”—if it is bad
—is the fault of the students. And
is it really “bad” ?
I felt pretty good the other day
when I walked into a professor’s
office on a business matter, and he
said as I got up to leave, “Oh,
don’t go. Stay and chat awhile.”
Or the time a facult}' member took
the time and the nerve to tell me
about and discuss with me a fault
1 might otherwise never have real
ized I possessed. Or the night be
fore exams when a busy teacher
took time off to come over to
Strong and clear up for her stu
dents bothersome points.
Things like that make me think
of the faculty as people! And
back to my very first question, I
think that’s what good student-
fa c u 1 t y relation means — each
thinking of the other as a person,
not as an impersonal knowledge
machine wearily pumping oil over
a w’all in an attempt to polish up
a set of very rusty cogs.
I get a warm feeling inside
home
any
when I think about our faculty at
Salem because I think they’re more
than walling to be real persons to
us. If you’re complaining about
“bad student-faculty relations”, ask
3’ourself if you’ve done your part.
Kittj' Burrus
Dear Editor
There are many things, many
little things wTich contribute to
make one feel at
place.
Sometimes it is a sound, a color,
a smell.
Sometimes it is a smile.
But for me there is a man whom
I will always remember in thinking
of Salem. A man whose smile and
presence have made me feel that
there is more in Salem than an in
stitution, that there is something
human.
His wandering silhouette com
forts me when I see him w-alking
around the campus wdth his eternal
wEite (?) companion.
Almost always I call him. It is
one of the things one cannot help
doing. I cannot see Mr. Gorsuch
wdthout feeling that I have to call
him, to talk to him. Then he turns
around, and I know' w'hy I wanted
to call him—just because of the
friendly smile in the corner of his
eye, ahvays full of roguishness and
ready for a joke at any hour
the night.
\\ hat would the catacombs
of
-- - be
without Mr. Gorsuch—what would
the Old Chapel be—or the Pier
rettes working on their plays ?
It is difficult to explain.
Those who know Mr. Gorsuch
well know what I mean.
Those who don’t — they have
missed very much of Salem.
Catherine Birckel
By Clinky Clinkscales
It was almost five-thirty. Nan carried a
big, thick book in the crook' of her elbow, as
she scuffed along the brick walk back to the
senior dormitory. The heels of her floppy
loafers made a dull popping noise behind her
It had rained most of the afternoon, and the
dampness made her hair limp and straight
As she walked slowly along, she uneonsci,
ously shoved back a strand of hair that kept
falling in her eyes. The ground was wet and
the grass looked shiny. Nan -wondered whet
her it would squeak if she ran across it and
hit it hard and fast with the balls of her
feet—the way you can make the sands at the
beach squeak when you run along. She want
ed to try it, but she didn’t.
The air around her was warm and heavy.
And the wind moved the willow branches and
freed a few drops of rain. that were eaugkt
on the leaves. The little drops made a spray
and hit the side of her face and arm. She
wiped her face with the back of her hand,
Nan stopped a moment by the willow. It was
bright in contrast to the dull sky. Never be
fore had it looked, so green—or so sad. As
she looked at the drooping branches and the
rough, black trunk, she felt almost like cry
ing—Why is it you’re completely happy at
school for four years, then all of a sudden
you look at an old tree—one you’ve seen hund
reds of times before—and you want to cry!
Nan tried to hum a tune, but it got no fur
ther than the back of her throat. She felt a
little ungrateful, but she didn’t mean to be,
Her parents had sent her here when she was
a freshman, and now—in less than a motith-
she had to leave.
Nan started up the wet cement steps at
the side of the dormitory. Just as she was
about to enter, three seniors same dasbin?
down the hall arm in arm. The middle girl
waved a deck of cards and a score pad at
Nan. Mary always played with her own cards,
“Drop that old book and come be a fourth,"
she said over her shoulder in a high-pritchei ^
voice.
Nan managed a smile and shook her head,
but Mary hadn’t bothered to look bad
“Sorrj^—afraid I can’t right now.” But slf
hadn’t even bothered to hear her either—It's
just as well they didn’t really care—That
same, same talk—Mary and Bob’s wedding ia
June and Jenny’s in July—Pins and rings anl
weddings and plans for the future—Any other
day I could listen—But not today—Thanh i
all the same—Not today because—because-
Because it’s rained all afternoon—And be
cause in less than a month now we’ll all h j
gone for good—And—
Without knowmg it, Nan had moved ies'
self over towards the window. Outside the]
grass looked shiny, and the branches of thej
old willow moved slightly. She stared. She
watched a tall skinny girl come boundin?
down the same brick path she had followed
When she reached the building she jumpcii'
and her long legs landed her safely on th
third step. Nan knew Sis had not seen hfl
at the window, and she almost wanted to hft
But there was no place. Sis almost bumpf^
into^her in her excitement. Gaily she shouted |
to Nan, “Guess what! I’ve just sold my
and gown to Jean Parker for five dollars!;,
She^ hurried on up the steps.
Nan watched her^—Five dollars for a
and gown—That’s what I paid for mine
year Is that all there is to it—Five dollar®^'
In less than a month now—
The grass outside looked shiny. Nan woG
dered whether it would squeak if she
aerbss it and hit it hard and fast with
balls of her feet. She wanted to try it, *’"*1
she didn’t.