Newspapers / Salem College Student Newspaper / March 6, 1953, edition 1 / Page 2
Part of Salem College Student Newspaper / About this page
This page has errors
The date, title, or page description is wrong
This page has harmful content
This page contains sensitive or offensive material
/Ih out, out SUuf,. I iiave a story to tell. It is a simple story, first told by a simple man. It is not a new story. It has been told many times and has been read many times. It is centuries old, blit it is still important. In Washington it is important; in Moscow it is important, here on our campus it is important. Listen to it and understand. Tliere once was a man who was traveling on foot through a strange country. One day as he walked .slowly along the dusty road, tirbd from his journey, he met a banr> of evil men who were robbers. They took from him his clothes and his money and beat him with sticks. They left him bleeding, naked, and pennile.ss beside the road. As tlie man lay beside the road, unable to move or call, a rich priest in fine robes came that way. As the rich man came near to the robbed man he saw that he was bleeding, but he also saw that he was of another country, lie thought, “I cannot waste my time, my precious time, on one who is not of mj”^ own country.” So he crossed to the other side of the road and left the bleeding, naked man. The man lay in the dust beside the road and turned it red with his blood. Then another man in rich robes happened to travel that way. As he saw the man naked and bleeding on the side of the road, he thought, “I am in a hurry. I do not have time to waste on that unfortunate man.” He thought this and crossed the road to the other side and went on his way. The wounded man lay almost dying, need ing a friend, and, yet, knowing none would come. Then another man came into sight. He was also a rich man who was on important business. He too was a man who had little time to waste, but, when he saw the man be side the road, he stopped. He helped the man to his feet and led him to an inn. Here he bought the penniless' man food and clothes and a room for rest and left with a promise to pay for what he needed. This is the story I had to tell. This is the story that affects you and me and Eisenhower and Stalin. Do you understand? The grass needs to be untrampled so it can grow; the Pierrettes need stage hands; elect ric lights need to be tumed off so that the bill will be lower; vespers need more people; chapel needs more quiet; the deans need co operation; date room floors need to be void of cigarettes; voices after 10:30 need to be quieter; and all of this needs YOU. A. B. ®i)E ^alemitc OFFICES—Lower floor Main Hall Downtown Office 304-306 South Main Street Subscription Price $3.00 a year Published every Friday of the College year by the Student Body of Salem College Printed by the Sun Printing Company Edilor-in-Chief Eleanor McGregor Associate Editors Anno Lowe, Peggy Chears Managing Editor Jean Calhoun News Editors Jane Schoolfield, Lorrie Dirom Feature Editors Eleanor Johnson, Connie Murray Feature Assistant Cynthia May Copy Editor Sallv Reiland Make-up Editor Allison Long Art Editor Ruthie Derrick Pictorial Editor Jeanne Harrison Feature Writers: Laurie Mitchell, Ruthie Derrick, Sal’.y Reiland, Emma Sue Larkins, Francine Pitts, Margie Ferrell, Betsy Liles, Betty Tyler, Jane Drown, Betty Lynn Wilson, Elsie Macon, Jo Bell. Reporters: Betsy Liles, Diane Knott, Dot Morris, Alison Britt, Bessie Smith, Jean Edwards, Allison Long, Sara Out- land, Mary Anne Raines, Edith Flagler, Elsie Macon, Anne Simpson, Jane Smith, Barbara Allen, Connie Murray, Laura Mitchell, Myra Dickson, Sue Harrison, Drane Vaughn. S A L E, MITE This cartoon was drawn by Margaret Raynal, a student at Salem several years ago. Dutch Sunday By Elizabeth Krauss On fear of punishment of death if they wake me before nine o’clock, my two little brothers sit outside my bedroom door and wait. Tliey wait there like little dogs stalking around a plate of steak. Their exaggerated whisperings have wakened me already an hour ago, hut they will wait until nine. They giggle, little boys’ giggles, while they wait. Then—the clock in the hall strikes nine and at the same moment they open the door and come running in. Pat, pat, pat, pat, little bare feet on the floor, bump one, bump two. both sit on my bed. “Wake up, wake up, it is nine, come on, let us in, we are cold.” ,A.nd before I can say anything two pairs of cold feet thrust themselves, on either side of me between the blankets, two cold faces are pres sed against mine. “Wake up, That argument wakes me up all right, but they still have to tickle me; that is their Sunday morning right. “Are you going to swim?” they both ask. Yes, if the weather is good. The curtains are thrown open; yes, the sun shines, and streams into my room. But first a story, of the Large Man. The Large Man is an interminable figure, with a new installment every Sunday. Buffalo Bill, Tom Mix, Sherlock Holmes and all those other heroes are mixed up in this one figure, and every week I scrape together my thoughts of the books I have read about them, here and there adding a little flavoring of my own to the adven tures. At ten we really get up, and after a large breakfast we leave with a bag of sandwiches for the beach, to stay there the whole day long. The beach is large and still empty when we arrive; most people like to sleep late or go to church; we do not go often, certainly not !n summer. We go when it rains. Even when it snows or freezes it is too good outside to go to church —this to the dismay of our minis ter. Business Manager Faye Lee Advertising Manager Joan ^ope Circulation Manager Jean Shope Faculty Advisor Mias Jess Byrd Slowly the rest of the gang arrive, and about noon everybody who is anybody in the gang is there. We start by eating, and then we go swimming; the boys are first in the water and wait until the girls come, whom they want to splash with the icy cold water. The sea water is always cold even in August, but certainly in April. The girls scream, “Please don’t”, while they mean, “Please do it again, I like your attention.” After some time we return to the beach and eat some more. Then we stretch down in the soft, golden sand and start talking. What do we talk about ? About school, teachers, plays, politics, books, about everything in an adolescent’s life. We fight about Marx and Engels, we are in favor of existentialism and anti-Rous- sean, and we act blase and spleeny until one of the smaller children who have come along with their older brothers and sisters, partly for fun, partly as chaperones, comes running along. “Come, come and see what we have found!” Everyone runs down to the seaside, and there they have some terribly smelling fish with !vhich they chase the older girls until some of them cry. Then the chivalry of the older boys sticks up its head, and the little children are first threatened and then in reality thrown into a big wave, from which they emerge laughing and shouting. Everybody runs into the water again, and we play a game of water polo in which the little ones also participate.' And look at the large and husky boys, men nearly. They throw the ball so that the small children can also catch it, they are careful with the little girls, and they look out that the little boys do not go too far in their daring, because the tide is treacherous on the Dutch Coast. At five o’clock everyone starts dressing, empty bicycle tires are pumped up again, and slowly everyone gets on his bicycle. The older ones push along the little children who are tired. Slowly the long trail of children becomes shorter and shorter. Here one off, there two others reach their home; at about six we are home. "Bye, see you tomorrow; do not forget the book you promised me, Bye.” We three go in and close the door behind us, tired, home. By Jean Calhoun I walked into a dark room in Srong Dot® (No, not the date room!) I saw things movin; in a black box at the end of the room. J looked similar to a washing machine to m glassles.s self. Everything was whirling aroM| in the center of the box. “Dean Martin an derry Lewis are on Television tonight,” sou- one remarked. Television, dear me! I walked into the kitchen of the diuiusrj hall and big clear things came rolling oit|: of a machine. Big things that looked diamonds, hut that were larger than any raonds I'd ever seen. And too, these things had holes in the middle. “Get the' (‘.ubes out of the machine,” someone remarkei|'- Electric ice cube maker, dear me! I walked to the street and stood at the eail| waiting for someone to stop the ears, the button,” someone remarked. The butta|i was pushed, the light ehadiged red, the ca4;’ stopped. Electric car stopper, dear me! E I mused. Someone has revolutionized tlitH old Moravian settlement. But, dear me, whitg could 1 do to improve this world? || I decided to summon some history to » beside what famous people I would sit wes I to revolutionize something. Knowing vet; little history, all I could summon was B» Franklin. I sat down beside Ben; dear me, he loobi rather pale when he saw me racking u; brain. For the deans and house presidents, I liai the perfect solution to solve all unsoluai problems. A trap-door situated in front#! every dorm door and every date room. Ti trap would automatically open at “Time4 dates-to-leave” hours and drop the tardy into the basement. From here they could i entangle themselves and have no bother al being late. Ben frowned. “How will you separate wheat from the tares?” (Wheat and tar# .syunbolizing the two sexes.) Oh, dear I must invent something infallable. For the students, I would alleviate all w ries about pops. I would make life a bedi American Beauty Roses. Bach student woiiS he given a geiger-couuter capable of seekii! out rooms where pops were about to pop. Beu frowned. “Mr. Campbell would s» ther in unused yellow pop sheets.” Dear me, what could I do? For the professors, I would fill their with joy. Ud give them attentive _ every day filled with no sleepers, no W writers, no nail polishers, and no knitters.! would invent an agitator. Every quarter-hoi on the quarter-hour I would have an es'fcuM belt rotating first row to second row, seeos row to third row, and third row to, the row. This would wake up the sleepers stop all other extra-curricular activities, b Ben frowned. “All your colleagues W' have to study on this system and you’d hai^ no one to play bridge with.” Dear me, I would have to forget every«| else. I would invent an invention for me. I There are so many things that wmuld ffli my^ little life more truly rosy. I would invent a Curl-A-Cal tonic to taken each night before retiring. I have curlier hair every day in every way. I would invent an Electric-Note-Sieve. fore exams I would cram all my notes ® the machine and plug it in. Questions # would appear on exams would issue from ® side, those that would count the most po®' would come out on top. Final exam would he m_y “Happy Day.” Ben frowned. “Everything you have *| vented is electrified. Pardon me for be* colloquial, friend. But ain’t you gonna m^“ a man?” Dear me, a man. I do need a new one. I besought my muse; Give me a man Give me one today. Give me a man Not made of clay. Give me a man Big, blue eyed Give me a man Electrified. Ben frowned.
Salem College Student Newspaper
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
March 6, 1953, edition 1
2
Click "Submit" to request a review of this page. NCDHC staff will check .
0 / 75