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Attending class is one of the privileges of
a college experience. However, it becomes a
requirement rather than a privilege when at
tendance is not voluntary. There are cases
when students attend class because they want
to attend; this should always be true rather
than students’ attending just because they do
not have any more cuts in the course. An
iutei’esting course ])resented in a challenging
manmw makes students have the desire to be
])resent, even though their presence is not
compulsory. There are also occasions when
stmhmts feel that each class meeting is vital
to their comprehension of the subject matter
and to their advancement in the course.
For these reasons, Salem’s restrictive cut
system seems unnecessary and obsolete. After
her freshman year, it should be the responsi
bility of each student having a satisfactory
recoi'd to regulate her own class attendance.
This places the entire responsibility ijpon the
individual and makes her realize that her re
cord is a residt of her own decisions. If a
student’s report is poor because of her ir
rational behaviour, it is then that she should
be placed on a restrictive program.
Granted, there may be some truth in the
supposition that some of the students may be
seeking a revision of the attendance regula
tions to acquire more Saturday cuts. How
ever, there will still be occasions when they
will have to make their decisions and bear the
conseciuences. The type of student that Salem
selects to be a part of her student body should
be capable of displaying sound judgment.
The request for more freedom in class at
tendance is not rash since many coUeges on
our level give students doing satisfactory
work more privileges than we do. Most col
leges at least allow students three cuts per
class. It is not fair that students taking nine
teen hotirs have the same number of cuts as
those taking fifteen or fewer hours.
A “B” average in college Avork is generally
eonsider'ed excellent; yet at Salem, a stu
dent with a “B” average only gets twelve cuts.
In considering this matter let it be remem
bered that there are instances Avhen students
Avith unlimited cuts haA'e refused a temptation
to cut on Saturday, because they Avanted to
attend class and because they felt their need
to attend..
Li/e In Peyton Place
Portrays Realism
“Peyton PlacC”, noAv playing at the Win
ston Theater, is a rare example of the movie
version of a book being superior to the book
from which it is adapted. Although the char
acters are just as Avell developed in the movie,
it is free fi'om the excess sensuality Avhich
predominates the book.
For those Avho might have become too in
volved in the fi-ankness of the novel, the movie
affords a clearer picture of Avhat Mrs. Meta-
lious Avas trying to shoAV Avhen she wrote Pey
ton Place; Avhat happens to a small toAvn Avhen
it becomes insnared in gossip—and everyone
has something in their lives of Avhich they
are not proud.
While there is no superior acting displayed
in “Peyton Place”, the actors do give com
petent portrayals of their characters. Among
the better performances are those by Hope
hange, Diane Varsi, and Russ Tamblyn. Lana
Turner also gives one of the better perform
ances of her career.
The one thing marring an otherAvise excel
lent movie is the “lIollyAvood” ending. The
movie ending implies that Norman Page (Russ
Tamblyn) and Allison Mackenzie (Diane
Varsi) Avill be married and live in Peyton
Place. The ending of the novel, on the other
hand, is less resolved, although the implication
is that Allison and a young man she has met
in NeAv York Avill someday be reconciled in
a life together.
—Sarah Ann Price
tlCiie ^alemtte
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Re-write Editor
February
Tendrils Attends The
Coffee Club Meeting
T daydreaming between vhe
bricks one day in front of the
administration office when a big
shoe loomed over me. I ducked
down just in time as the monstrous
sole closed over the gap. Then
the air flooded in again and with
it a flurry of dust particles. Why
do men have to have such big
feet? T stared angrily after the
retreating figure headed toward vhe
busy street that ran in front of
my adopted home. A little slip of
white paper fell from the man’s
hand as he punched the button on
the pole at the corner. Scrambl
ing out of the gap, 1 scampered
across the bricks after the paper,
propped it up against a tree with
a rock, and backed away to read
it:
The Tranquilizer Coffee Club
Will Convene Today At 11:00
A.M. At Harry’s Hideaway.
Urgent Meeting. All Members
Required To Attend. Bring
Your Schedules. Give Free
Cuts If Necessary.
1 had heard alvout the Coffee
Club—lots of girls had been talk
ing about it. They could not be
members, but they could sit in on
some of the meetings. I decided
to go, because I knew I would not
be noticed.
Pretty soon a tall lean man came
striding by. He held one of the
white slips in his hand. T jumped
for his pants cuff, but missed; it
was too far off the ground for :ne
to reach. I grabbed the next best
thing, his shoestring, and .swayed
along across the street.
In the drugstore the din was
deafening. Maybe it was because
my ears Avere too large — I am
meant to hear everything. The
legs carried me way back to a
group of tables and chairs and peo
ple with grim looks on their faces.
Immediately a tirade of complaints
were directed against my trans
porter. Tn the confusion I hopped
off the shoe and shinneyed up the
table leg. The empty side of the
napkin holder made a perfect hid
ing place for me. The atmosphere
was strained, faces tense, the clam-
mor of a spoon against a coffee
cup turned all the faces to the
tall man who had carried me across
the street.
“Your undivided attention, hmgh,
please. We have gathered here to
discuss a serious problem. We
have begun a new semester, Imm-
mggh, and it seems the schedule
has been changed somewhat, limm-
ggh. This necessitates a new meet
ing time. The table is open for
suggestions. And keep it low;
there are some students up front.”
He sat down.
A nice bald man called the Good
Gray Philosopher, stood up, clen
ching a pipe between his teeth.
“This is a serious problem, a seri
ous problem.” he boomed. “It’s
determinism, that’s what it is!
“Pardon me, Herr Senor Mon
sieur Philosopher,” spoke the sec
retary (she was the only woman
at the table), “but the table is open
to suggestions about a meeting
time, not the reasons for schedul
ing classes.”
“Yes, Point of order!” said an
other man jumping up, flourishing
a paint brush. He was a very
artistic parlimentarian. “And while
I have the floor, I propose we
meet at 10:00 every morning.”
“I object,” said a misty-eyed
young man. “I have classes every
day at that time.” Everybody
listened to him because he was the
Vice-President. Then a tall :nan
with a greying G. I. haircut spoke
out quietly.
“Mr. President, I move we ;neet
at 11:00 each morning. .Mthough
all members may not be able to
attend, at least the Executive Com
mittee may be liere. Does that
meet your approval?” he asked,
looking at the officers.
“Fine with me,” snapped a
shorter man, leaning back In his
chair and puffing on his little pipe.
“But I do think that some aiember
of the club shoidd always be here
to entertain tho.ve of us who can
come only at odd hours.” Every
one nodded in general agreement.
Then the president spoke again.
“Now that that’s settled, we’ll
hmmgggh, go on to the rest of
the agenda:
1. A program for evaluation of
the student body.
2. Initiation of our one student
member. This will take place
at high noon tomorrow. Cap-
pucini will be served instead
of regular coffee.
3. Nominations for new female
members.
4. Funds for free coffee for visi
tors and special guests.
Just then Harry came back with
a package of paper napkins. 1
scrambled out of the holder, duck
ed behind the salt shaker, and slid
down the table leg. I could not
hear much under the table, only
low murmurings and sudden loud
bursts of laughter. The serious
part must be over, I thought. I
hoisted myself into the president’s
pants cuff for my free trip across
the street. Nestling in the lint I
thought, “Maybe 1 could be a mem
ber. I sure could tell them lots
of things about being small. I
even know a few jokes I could tell
at the rowdier sessions!”
—Tendrils
And Of What Are
Scholars Made!
Walking doAvn the tiled steps leading into
the basement of Strong Dorm, I heard faint
strains of, “Raunchy” flowing from the radio.
I stepped down the last step, opened the door,
tljen stood there to light a cigarette. Simul
taneously, heads reared back to look toward
me, and squinting eyes moved in the direction
of the door.
Tavo long roAVS of fluorescent lights, running
parallel on the ceiling, illuminated the room.
Two lamps Avmre lighted and by both of them
were chairs turned avvay from me. Heads
slightly shoAved above the tops of the chairs.
Bare calves and feet dangled on one side.
Spirals of smoke made their Avay toward the
ceiling and spread out, making tiny clouds
under the lights above. The lamp light sucked
some of the smoke under the lamp shades
making the small tops appear to be chimneys.
Sitting in one of the red wicker chairs was
my Honor Society member roommate, Ruth
Bminett. With legs propped on another chair,
ankles crossed, her head rested on the back
of the chair. She had been the only one in
the room aaTio had not looked toward the door
AArhen I came in. A green, paper-back book
lay folded on her stomach; her face \Ams peace
ful—escape ! Sleep!
Taking a feAv steps forAvard I peered in the
study room. Laughing silently I remembered
MacQueen studying in there last year. Her
Latin book lying in the middle of the table,
she Avmuld perch on the top of the table, legs
folded under her and chin propped up Avuth
fists. The book would be marked up, seem
ingly beyond comprehension of subject matter.
Her curly hair Avould be untidily mussed, and
occasionally she Avould tug at it, rub it or
run her fingers through it several times.
Sitting in the study room, now was Jeane
Smitherman. She didn’t notice my presence
because of her deep concentration on her cig
arette. An open book lay in her lap and her
deft hand held the pages doAvn. In her right
hand Avas a cigarette, at which she was staring.
She took a deep drag, slowly blowing it out;
then she blew it in tAvo great spurts through
her nose. Further experimenting, she began
to shake the cigarette in a small circle—the
smoke scattered and sometimes made small
circles. Taking another deep drag and care
fully setting her mouth in an oblong 0, she
began to form large smoke rings.
Going back into the larger room, I Avalked
over to a table and put out my cigarette. 1
glanced around again and Avent through the
door and jumped up the steps two at a time.
Opening the door at the head of the stairs,
I stepped out into the brisk night air and
walked up the. path, over to South Dorm. The
lights were on in nearly every room. I leaned
back to pull the heavy door open. Going into
the entrance room, I turned down the hall to
the right. At the end of the hall, I peered
through an open door. There, on the bed,
sat Anne Summerell. Her notes were care
fully placed around her and each book was
Avitli the notes to which they belonged. A
dictionary Avas placed nearby, and, as she read
she carefully underlined important sentences,
Avriting notes by significant passages.
Turning back, I again walked doAvn the
corridor, into the entrance room and doAvn
another hall. Glancing into each room, my
eyes stopped, on a familiar sight—a green book
called The Contrapuntal Harmonic Technique
of the Eighteenth Century. Hovered over it,
at a desk was Frankie Cunningham, pencil in
hand. A large music notebook was beside her
book and she was neatly and conscientiously
jotting down little notes on the lines.
I Avent back doAAm the hall and up the wind
ing, dilapidated stairAvay. Going down the
corridor to the left I passed several doors,
then stopped at one when I heard some crackl
ing sounds. I stood back as someone s uddenly
bounced out of the room, giggling. Anne
Brinson, clothed only in a slip, turned toAA'ard
me and smiled pointing toward the Coca-Cola
machine, saying, “My fourth in an hour!’’ _
a feAv minutes she came by me again, smiling;
and went back into her room plopping down
on her bed. Picking up the book that
open, face-down, she propped back on her
pilloAv and began rubbing her feet together
popping her toes at intervals.
(Continued On Page Three)