Jlei^ Qet Sel^ldJt • • •
Let’s get selfish! We don’t seem to realize
how much collective cooperation on this cam
pus could mean to each of us. We don t seem
to realize the personal benefits we could get
if we would only cooperate on a large scale,
if we would go in for big business as well as
We all like small partnerships. We like
cooperation on a small basis. We like to co
operate with our roommates and get each
other dates; we like to cooperate with our
teachers and hand in our homework on time
if they’re fair in the assignment; we like to
cooperate with our parents and make good
grades so they’ll give us permissions for beach
trips—so they’ll send us spending money.
Yes, we like cooperation on a small scale.
We like it because only through cooperation
do we get what we want personally. AVe like
cooperation partly for a selfish reason.
Well, let’s get more selfish. We could get
a lot more things we wanted if we cooperated
on a large scale. We could have more success
ful dances, better Salem-Davidson days, big
ger and better Play Days, better annual and
So let’s get selfish and cooperate and get
what we want. We could get a lot personally
out of the “big business” at Salem—the major
organizations. All of us are members of the
organizations — all of us are members of a
class, of a dormitory, of Salem College’s stu
dent government. Let’s start looking after
ourselves in these organizations.
The nice part about this kind of selfishness
is that when we are selfish through coopera
tion, we really aren’t selfish at all. True, we
get what we want, but we help everybody
else to get what they want, too. We become
one family all working for the same thing—
the happiness of each individual in the group.
In this way we will arrive at a healthy selfish
ness, working not only for personal gain but
for each member of the organization or school.
And let’s earn the right to say, “We had a
successful Salem-Davidson day,” or “We had
a beautiful May Day.” Let’s earn the right
to say, “I think we’ve done a good job on the
annual this year,” or “Our college paper is one
of the best.”
Let’s earn the right to say, “Our class won
the basketball tournament,” or “Our dormi
tory won first prize for decorations.” Let’s
earn the right to say, “Our student govern
ment is fair.” ‘
Let’s cooperate and get what we want.
Let’s get selfish 1
E. S. L.
PubHskcd every Friday of the College year by the
Student body of Salem College
OFFICES—Lower floor Main Hall
Downtown Office 304-306 South Main Street
Printed by the Sun Printing Company
Subscription Price $2.75 a year
Editor-in-Chief Eleanor McGregor
Associate Editors A-nne Lowe, Peggy Chears
Assistant Editor Jean Calhoun
News Editors Jane Schoolfield, Lorrie Dirom
Feature Editors Eleanor Fry, Eleanor Johnson
Copy Editor C5rnthia May
Assistant Copy Editor Sally Reiland
Make-up Editor Allison Long
Art Editor Ruthie Derrick
Pictorial Editor Jeanne Harrison
Business Manager Faye Lee
Advertising Manager Joan Shope
Circulation Manager Jean Shope
Stiiffod Animals ^iy/iLna±
M A o : o Vrtifp anH cut open her » l/
By Mary Anne Raines
There in a solemn row sits the
trio. Composed of entirely dif
ferent individuals, this group is the
universal symbol of dormitory life,
for these individuals are my own
stuffed animals. Reclining on top
of my pillow, her eyes closed, tail
curled in a soft arc, pink ears
erect is my little kitten. Her gray
fur has grown even grayer as a
result of a semester of bad treat
Lolling against the pillow, his
scarlet wings and feet protruding,
is the penquin who is destined to
carry eternally upon his heart the
emblem of Cornell University. The
third member of this dignified as
sembly occupies a spot on the far
side of the bed. This melancholy
fellow is a bloodhound whose
elongated muzzle rests upon his
forepaws and whose ears drop far
below the normal position. Each
ear is ornamented by a bright
yellow “S” which proclaims his
right to call himself a Salemite.
There they sit—dog, cat, and pen
quin, the triarchy of the bedroom.
All day they sit in regal splen
dor upon the red and brown bed
spread. At night their throne be
comes any object upon which they
happen to land when unceremoni
ously they are forced to vacate
their daytime post. During the day
they witness everything that hap
pens in my room. For a long time
I have observed them, and during
that time I have discovered that
they each show favoritism towards
certain types of people. As they
silently watch the drama of college
life, each decides which person is
The little gray kitten keeps her
eyes closed to both the beautiful
and ugly aspects of life. That,
however, does not take away her
interest in the activities of my
friends. Her little pink ears
straighten up the minute she hears
the footsteps of one of my favor
ites. From the minute anyone
enters the room she is aware of
every word that is allowed to float
out into the air. She takes as
much pleasure in sucking in these
words as a vacuum does in swallow
ing up dirt. Every time one of
my friends comes in with a little
morsel of gossip I know that, al
though it may be ignored at my
table, it will provide just the
nourishment that my little gray
Sometimes I wonder, if I were
to take a knife and cut open her
fur, what I would find inside tl}V
head of the kitten. Would the
sawdust be blackened from the bits
of grime that entered with the
words? Would I find an empty
space bounded by cardboard?
Until I have the courage to apply
the knife, my kitten will just con
tinue to suck in words and I. to
wonder where they have disap
The second of my trio has a
taste in people that coincides with
his appearance. He must have seen
himself in the mirror and liked
what he saw so well that the only
people who appeal to him are those
who have his characteristics. I am
speaking of the melancholy blood
hound. The expression on his face
is one of the .greatest suffering and
misfortunate that could ever be
conceived by the mind of an artist.
Anytime I feel depressed I have
just to look at this fellow and I
burst into tears. He seems to
thrive on tears and heartbreaks.
The only time I ever see a
gleam of interest come into those
poor, feeble eyes is when he hears
the sniffling of some poor unfor
tunate. Anyone who has gone
through enough misfortune to coax
them into a tearful state will find
solace in the freckled, glassy-eyed
wretch. In the unhappiness of
others he is at home because he
himself knows nothing but un
happiness. I do feel sorry for him!
The third member of the group
makes up for the defects of the
others. His large, black shoebut-
tons are interested in everything
and everyone. They pop out with
amazement at some bit of startling
news. They shine with content
ment at the good fortune of my
associates. I’ve even seen them
shed a tear over an unkind word
or a hastily written letter.
The sympathetic penquin is in
terested in the activities of every
one. Yet he does not let any one
type of person take up too much
of his time. The minute everyone
leaves the room he seems to go
back into his own sawdust world.
I sometimes fancy that I see his
eyes turned inward with a question
ing, evaluating stare. Oh, I have
let my imagination run away with
me. None of the three have moved
since I began to write this. No,
they are just bits of cloth stuffed
with sawdust. There they sit in
a solumn row; a penquin, a cat,
and a dog—my stuffed animals.
By Elsie Macon
Messy Manners was late for
lunch again, but it really didn’t
matter. She was never on time
anyway. She walked in the door
of Soar-in Refectory and slammed
Mrs. Dean sounded the gong for
the blessing and Messy stopped
and mumbled “Cum-Lord-Jes’s-ou’-
ges-to-be.” She started for a back
table while still mumbling the
blessing. Messy heard someone
hitting on a glass and giggled. She
loved to hit on glasses.
When Messy reached the table
everyone else had already served
themselves and were almost
“Hi, Mes,” they yelled.
“You’re late—round the table
you must go, you must go, you
Messy skipped around the table
but her raincoat caught on a chair
and the bottom .button popped off.
Well, what if she did have pajamas
on. She hadn’t had any morning
Messy knelt in her chair and
reached across the table for the
broccoli. She had stayed in her
aunt’s boarding house for a week
and had a better “reach” than any
one else. By the time she had
loaded her. plate and taken the
first bite everyone'else ’ had'left.
Messy gobbled her ‘ food and
stuffed two buns in her pocket.
Halfway out of the dining room
one pajama leg fell down. Mrs.
Dean looked at her — then she
looked at the door. The President
of the United States walked in.
He saw Messy’s protruding pajama
leg, heard glasses clicking, saw
girls reaching for food, and run
ning around tables. Mrs. Dean
glared; the President stared and
asked, “Is this Salem College or
the Snake Pit?”
By Cynthia May
It seems I needed comfort, my
mind was all mixed up;
So I thought of all the beauties
the world holds in her cup,
I saw the white and fleecy clouds
as they danced upon the blue.
I pictured all the flowers with their
shiny drops of dew.
saw the sunbeams sparkle as they
skipped upon the waves.
I thought about our country, the
land of the free and brave.
I visualized our loved ones and the
beauty of our home.
I saw the covered mountain tops
and the frothy waves of foam.
It seems I needed comfort; my
mind was all mixed up—
But now I know the blessings the
world holds in her cup.
By Nancy Ramsey
This time she was going to do it. Parmy
Finnal had felt the thing creeping up on her
all year. She had discouraged the feeling,
she had even given herself a good talking to!
But it seemed that she could not help herself
This year she was going to spend all of read
ing day studing.
What a nauseating thing to do with the
pool open and men running loose all over the
campus. Fanny crawled into the library at
eight-fifteen so that no one would see her ,
even the professors would he shocked should
they see her in that degrading place of knowl
She darted around a corner in the reserve
room and almost immediately heard an ex
plosion of books bouncing on the cement floor.
Fanny was looking straight into the face of
Studie Uss, her roommate.
“Why, Fanny Finnal! Do you mean to tell
me that . . .”
“Yes, Studie,” Fanny’s face was the mask
of a martyr, “I’m being forced to . . . to . , ,
to study!” She turned suddenly and disap
peared in the maze of catacombs.
In the rush of getting to the library before
anyone could see her, Fanny had forgotten
her semester’s assignment hook and there was
nothing to do but return to the dorm to get
it. She sneaked out of the basement door
of the building and hurried toward her room.
Someone yelled to her before she could reach
“Hey, Fanny. How about a game of
bridge?” It was her bosom friend, Aggie.
Fanny’s feeling became weak all of a sud
den and she felt the desire to study leave
her. “Just one hand.” Fanny settled herself
comfortably on the bed and dealt herself a
five clubs hand. This was too good to leave
right now and after all just one more hand
wouldn’t take much time.
“Where ya going to eat lunch today,
Fanny?” Aggie stuffed another peanut-butter
cracker into her mouth and held a dill pickle
over the jar to let it drip- awhile. Aggie had
unusual powers as far as eating was con
cerned. She ate one meal a day—all day
long. When she wasn’t actually in the pro
cess of eating, she was talking about food.
This didn’t seem too peculiar to Fanny since
Aggie was a home ec. major; and besides
Aggie was her best friend.
“I thought maybe the dining hall . .
“Awh, come on and go to the Greene Flye
with us. We’re celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?” Fanny could think of
no day that would he worse to celebrate any
“No classes today. We’ve got a holiday so
why not use it?”
Fanny felt the feeling creeping up on her
again and began squirming and scratching her
head. The scratching seemed to help. Maybe
the feeling was something like the seven-year
itch, and if you scratched enough it would go
away. ' Cowbergers and limberger cheese
would certainly taste good, and she would be
back in time to go to the library at three
o’clock. The feeling didn’t itch so much now
and Fanny began to feel better.
“We thought we could go see “A Trai
Called Urge” and then maybe go bowlin
after dinner.” Aggie had powers of persuasif
“Well, I guess I’ll go. I had really planned
to ... to ... to study.” That was such a
hasty word to use right here in front of Aggk
“But this is a holiday, Fanny. Come oa,
The four girls piled into the school station
wagon, which could be had for such playful
excursions, and rode to the Greene Flye. They
sang “Put on the old golden goblet with the
Salem C. upon it” all the way across town.
The unholy four reached the dorm just be
fore the doors were locked and Fanny faced
up to her room. Studie was curled up on the
bed with a copy of Shakespeare’s plays on her
“Fanny, I think this is wonderful.” Studie
crunched on one of the apples her mother had
sent to fortify her for exams.
“What’s wonderful?” Fanny began to have
an itching and started scratching furiously-
“Why, you mean you stayed in the library
all day long? I’m real proud of you.” Studie
beamed at Fanny; Fanny squirmed uncom
“Yeah.” Fanny decided that it was won
derful. After all, reading day was just mean
to give you rest and relaxation between term
papers and exams.