Qiuincj, and liecelo4>*t^. . • Views From Other lands
For the past three, years and again this year
we at Salem have been fortunate—fortunate
in having students from other countries living
and studying here with us.
From these girls we have gained and are
gaining new and wider ^outlooks. They be
come our friends and we absorb from them a
part of themselves and their countries.
They give to us and we give to them. Each
of them takes home to her country a part of
us and America.
In a letter received recentl}^ from Hadwig
Stolwitzer of Austria, she writes: “I very often
think of all the things I have learned at Salem
College—It seems a very short time a_go--I
find I miss America in some ways—Life is
altogether on a smaller; scope again. Ameri
can customs which seem tiuite normal in Amer
ica' seem crazy here. Sitting on the floor or
carpet is one of these—Tliere are no more
drug stores; cokes are unhealthy and blue
jeans just> are not for sale anywhere—”
Iladwig writes to us and we listen. Mari
anne, Heile and Helen talk to us and we listen
and are glad.
Each of us is a part of Salem. AVe make
Salem what it is. Therefore, it is a logical
conclusion that we 'should be able to express
our ideas about her.'
letters to the editor give that opportunity
for expression. They are important whether
they are complaints or congratulations; radi
cal or conservative.
IIow , do you feel about the cuts system,
Saturday classes, the building of a new dormi
tory, social regulations and all other phases
of Salem campus life?
We are all willing to listen.
Wlvat WiU yai4> Be^ainf?
“What will you be doing next week?”
If this question were asked, we’d probably
answer, “Oh the usual. Monday will be ‘blue’,
as always, and I’ll forget to throw my laun
dry down to the basement and will have to
carry it over myself. The sun will be too hot
on tire hocky field and my post office box will
be empty and dusty.
“The rest of the week will probably be the
same. too. I’ll write home about the week-end
and dodge the loose bricks if it rains. I’ll
promise myself to start on one of my term-
papers and sing ‘Happy Birthday’ in the din
Yes, next week can be the usual, or it can
be very different from any other week in this
whole schooT year.
Next week is Keligious Emphasis AVeek.
llev. Kenneth Goodson will spend the week
here at Salem. He will talk in Chapel and at
after-dinner vespers. He will be here to ex
press his ideas and listen to our ideas; to
answer our questions and listen to our prob
Next week can change our way of thinking
or enforce the beliefs which we have already
formulated. AVe can gain new views and re
construct old ones. It is our opportunity.
“What will you be doing next week?”
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Published every Friday of the College year by the
Student Body of Salem College
Feature Editor Betsy Lilea
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Pictorial Editor Lu Long Ogburn
Music Editor Edith Flagler
Sports Editor Lou Fike
Editorial Staff; Laurie Mitchell, Jean Edwards, Barbara
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Typists Joyce Billings, Ann Butler, Eleanor Smith
Faculty Advisor 13 Miss Jess Byrd
By Bobbi Kuss
A hand drawn and crayoned map
of France tacked up on her door
—hmm—must be artistic—and in
the north central part, a big black
'lot. I’ll bet that’s where she lives.
You see, I’m sitting in Marianne
Lederer’s room in South waiting to
interview our “jeune fill'e” from
France. I’m pondering over . what
to ask her. There’s so much tha,t
our three foreign friends have to
Steps in the hall—must be the
subject of niy thoughts—it is. I’ll
start like this: Marianne do you
_ _ ? How do ? Is there
This is a little of what I
learned from the girl who lives in
Sceaux, France; about twenty min
utes from Paris by subway.
Marianne likes traveling best;
speaks German and English; is
studying Spanish; spent one year
at the Sorbonne after high school;
and loves' to read our English
novels: quote:—Especially Wilde,
Shaw, and Twain—^unquote. These
;ire only a few of her interests
and accomplishments that have
landed the oldest of seven children
right in the middle of onr southern
She told me she loves Salem’s
prett},- campus, it’s library, the
friendly girls, her courses, and then
stopped listing to say ‘'if I go
on, I like everything!” She ex
plained to me that she doesn’t like
yineapple with mayonnaise or cran
berry saiice with turkey. ‘‘That
would be like heresy in France—to
mix the sweet with the soup 1 The
big breakfasts are so good; we
ha\e just coffee and toast.”
Customs Are Different
It seems we American girls have
dating and clothes near the top of
our “big interests”, so I proceeded
to ask Marianne about these two
typical American “customs”. Mari
anne and her friends in Sceaux
would 'never wear hats to church.
Nor would they wear socks; nor
so much jewelry — especially ear
rings. She said she’d never seen
so many pearl necklaces. “It seems
everyone has them.”
“We don’t have a word for dat
ing. We just say I’m going
out. W^e don’t have ‘boyfriends’-..
We, call them ‘comrades’ (in simple
English.-.‘companions’) Boys are
looked on more as working part
ners. We don’t have fraternity
iiins of course — no fraternities!
We never wear rings on the third
finger of our left hand ’till we are
engaged or married—Here in Am
erica every girl would be engaged !
The French are well known for
kissing in the streets, but it means
. you really love someone. We don’t
kiss half as easily as you do.”
Marianne likes a tropical climate
and loves living .in this warm clim
ate here at Salem. I hope she
means both the weather and us,
for we surely are glad she’s here.
I left Marianne and walked over
Once again I'm sitting and wait
ing—this time for a dark-haired,
gracious girl with a friendliness
that fits so well in this very friendly
southern atmosphere. You’ve all
seen the typically Chinese collared
blouses and colorful embroidered
dresses she wears. I’m waiting for
Helen Fung Li Ann who hails from
a British island off the southern
part of Malaya called Singapore.
Helen Has Flag
While I waited I took a quick
glance around the room—how pat
riotic—an American flag! A pic
ture of some bambooish-looking
huts caught my eye. I learned
later from Helen that the huts in
the picture were made of rice
stalk pressed flat and mounted on
a piece of black silk by deaf and
dumb girls at a school in Malaya.
Helen came in and we started
talking. She is nineteen and has
a seventeen year old sister. She
attended a British school equivalent
to our high schools and took gradu
ation exams sent to the school by
Cambridge University. She laugh
ingly told me what she’d heard
from one of her friends in a letter
this morning. It seemed that an
English professor on the arts fac
ulty at the University of Malaya
called the roll the first day of
classes and asked if anyone kne«'
anything about Heleii Fung Li .Ann.
Her friend stood up to inform him.
“She’s m Fiorth Carolina.
Helen had many things to say
about our food. She’s never been
used to such a variety. Thier basic .
food is rice and a typujal meal
w o u i (1 include soup, a vegetable,
and meat. Helen’s always eaten
with chopsticks too, except for her
meals at boarding school! She
talked of her first meal with an;
American family at which she trier
so hard to “do right”, but ended
up taking only a very little bit o
maslied potatoes which she mistook
for butter !■
Helen likes the friendly^ faculty-
student relations. She likes the
lack of stiffness and deep discus
sions at our teas. Seeing the fac
ulty stand with students in line fdr
supper on Saturday night trul>
“Girl-liov relations are so dit-
ferent. There’s not half as much
emphasis placed on it in Malaya.
■We are never so friendly. Helen
'said in her country the'library
would be more filled on dates than
it is here !
I liked one, observation she made
—we aren’t the typical college girls
she’d pictured. Our conversation
borders more on week-ends, dates,
and the game of “do you know?
than ou-r studies. A ou know its
.probably because going to college
here is not half as much of a pri
vilege as it is in Malaya and oth^r
countries. Helen likes us and our
American ways—and we certainly
like the girl whose latest chore is
writing “I love you , in Chinese,
for us Saleraites!
My next stop is the infirmary.
Helle Falk, like so many of ns
Salemites, has a cold! So, I didn t
get to see her room ’til! after our
talk, but when I did it was like
walking into a travel bureau—a
travel bureau for exclusive trips to
Denmark—so many pretty posters !
The, second largest city in Den
mark, Aarhus, is where Helle lives
with her famih'-two brothers and
two sisters, A proficiency in langu
ages—English, German, and S\ve-
dish; a love of literature; and a
yen for travelin.g are a few of the
things that have brought light
haired, smiling Helle to our cam
Fond of Sports
She’s fond of all sports and now
is trying “something quite new—
tennis! Helle loves the beautiful
atmosphere here at Salem; the
weeping willow she can see from
her room; the ‘courtyard’ between
South, her dorm, and the Alumnae
House; and “the way the girls live
At one of her first American
meals she thought her appetizer
was dessert and was sure she would
go hungry that meal! “My mother
would think I’d forgotten all the
manners I ever knew if she saw
me using my knife and fork in
your way. We use both to eat at
home—fork in left hand, knife in
right.” She’d never had sweet
potatoes, squash, peppers, or green
asparagus, but unlike Helen—much
of our food is similar.
A date in Aarhus centers around
the home or a long bicycle ride
in the country on a romantic Dan
ish afternoon. Her graduation night
from high school was a lot like
ones we can all remember. “We
danced all night and had breakfast
As Marianne, Helle and her
friends don’t wear hats half as
much as we do. She goes skiing
in Norway on Easter vacations.
Drug stores are new to Helle as
are Howard Johnson’s twenty-eight
flavors of ice cream. Helle is new
to us and we love her lasting new
My brief sojourn into a French,
a Malayan, and a Danish life is
ended now, but through its very
brevity I want to learn to know
Marianne, Helen, and Helle
By. Connie Murray
To be read in a monotone.
Hum, de dum-dum; , dum, 'de duin-duuJ
da-klihh (hold for a count of six seconds, thej
fade it out.) My name is Conrad Friday |
(Joe’s mv brother). I’m attached to the In '
investigator. (?)^ 1 work out of Salem SqiL„,
205, the city of AVinston-Salem, county jf
Forsyth, state of North Carolina. My right. |
hand man is Lefty.
It was Monday morning, 9:40 a.m.—an or!. I
uai-y Monday morning except for the hmri.
cane raging through Salem Square. I was at |
my desk, as usual, in Terry’s bistro, puttinj
the finishing, touches on an ordinary cup of I
coffee. I raised my head to make it easier to
get the last s'wallo’w down. As I 'did, I san
her standing in the door. She was a yoiajj
blonde, willowy, sinewy, in fact, “wliew-ey!"
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hanl,
and folded the letter into her purse, I kneitl
she wanted a handkerchief, so I offered her |
mine. She reached into my coat pocket anJ
withdrew it. That was unusual, because slit
was standing four booths away at the time.
In a few minutes she sat down beside lo,
1 felt her hand. It was cold. Then I saw I
she was carrying a p^iece of dry ice, Skt |
began to tell her story. Her lover, Don
Peabody, had written he could not come:
the week-end. His excuse: he had to meeti|
dental appointment in New York with a Dr
Loreili Jones. Her complaint: “It’s all a lie;
he’s running out on me. I’ll kill him!” I;|
job: find him!
I sent Lefty out for coffee. Then I iveiit
to Chapel Hill, since the letter was post
marked “Beer AGllage.” It was now 11:05 a,i
(I drive an M. G., and when I drive, I drivel! I
1 saw the red neon sign blinking “Comta-|
nathy’s.” 1 nerved myself and walked in.
just wanted to get the facts; that’s all 11
wanted—just the facts! The man behind tie
counter quickly came forward. “A at do yal |
vantf”, he asked.
I explained that I was looking for a
with bad teetli, a, Dorcus Peabody, and
he seen him. He did not answer. His eyes I
were cold and relentless, and I realized ke |
was Stalin at me. He refused to answer, p;
ing at tlie fifth amendment pasted on the'
saying he would not incriminate himself.
1 walked out into the street. 8,:43 p-H-l
Then I knew Mr. Conibernathy had stared Ion
a long time. 1 had to find Dorcus before tl(|
blonde did. 1 walked past the Carolina'
and .smelled the food cooking. On a-huncti
1 went in—that’s all I did—I just played i|
Sure enough, there was food on the counter-1
I ate a few mouthfuls of broccoli (yes, I f
in Chapel Hill), and then stood up—it goes
down easier that way. AA”hile I was standing |
1 saw the photograph on the floor. I pinl
it up. It was a beautiful brunette. reclinin?|
on a diving board. I saw the inscripth^
“To my onty love, D. P.., from Loreili.” ^
the back was an address: Room 12, Tappak'®J
Keg Fraternity House.
I finished my broccoli (couldn’t leave it)I
and started for the TNK house. I walked nP|
the stairs to Room 12, and knocked on
door. I heard a tap-tap-tap from inside,
one came to the door. I knocked again. S
no answer. I knew then I had to do if
held my breath and slid under the door.
AAHat I saw was terrifying. I knew
human could do it. But there was Dorc®'
I had seen the ID bracelet on his arm. wj
it was Dorcus, and he was tapping on M
front teeth with a hammer.
“All right, come along,” I said to him-
turned and faced me. “Ya’ can’t take me;,
ain’t done nothin’.” I told him I was h
him on article 139—delayed payment aoi
told him about the letter, and the photo;
and the ID bracelet. I picked up the
mer—the evidenoe—and pushed him out
9:39 p.m. I placed a call to Lefty. Hes«j!
he’d gotten the coffee, and I told hi® ,
gotten my man. I told him I was headeH«|
AVinston then and would bring Dorcus
Dorcus’ case came up before the |
Judge of Forsyth County on October 14,/ '
In the state of North Carolina, break®?
vContinued on page tour;