Newspapers / Grimsley High School Student … / Dec. 17, 1943, edition 1 / Page 2
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Page Two HIGH LIFE December 17, 194s HIGH LIFE^^^ Published Semi-Monthly by the Students of Greensboro Senior High School Greensboro. N. C. Founded by the Class of 1921 Revived by the Spring Journalism Class of 1937 Entered as second-class matrer March 30, 1940, at the post ollice at Greensboro, N. C., under the Act of March 3. 1879. EDITORIAL Editor-in-Chief Irwin Smallwood Associate Editor and Chief Editorial Writer John Sevier Associate Editor Aileen Mateer Feature Editor Beverly Bell Cop}! Editor Sue Ward Make-Up Editor Jean Freeland Sports Editor Irwin Smallwood Assistaiit Make-Up Editor Ted Williamson Sports Feature Writer Edmund Attayek Exchange Editor Shirley Flowers BUSINESS liusincss Manager Dovie MeSwain Advertising Manager Jean Freeland Oiroulation Managers Barbara Murray, Annie Ben Beale Junior Journalist Chairman Adger Williams Staff Photographer Ted Williamson Typists Emily Ann McDowell, Anne Keyes, Essie Brown, Betty J. Tucker, Vivian Baker .■\dviHer .. . Miss Louise C. Smith Financial Adviser Miss Frances Sowell (Mcmb^ Est. 1921) The Miracle of the Manger Brings Tidings of True Peace ... “jAikI ye sliall find Tfitii in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes—” thus the hirth of the Savior of the world was announced to a world weary with lighting and the oi>pression of Augus tus Caesar and Jtome. Word traveled quickly, even in those days, and the hearts of many of liie oppressed were light ened with a now hope, a renewed joy, in the anti cipation of a RedeeTiier. Today’s Cliristmas again finds a world of op- I>ressed people, nations warring against each other, homes giving their most valued possessions—the life-blood of tlie youth of the nation. Nevertheless, in the minds and hearts of all who now fight for freedom for mankind there springs a new hope and a new determination that the next Christmas shall be one for rejoicing and gladness in all of the lands of the earth, and that the love taught centuries ago by the Ih’iiuie of Peace shall he universal in a world that is calm and serene. Now, making our Christmas as cheerful and as bright as rationing on the home front allows, keeping the moral of our boys at war as high as possible by small remembrances—the little things that mean so much, these are the ta.sks of all who must remain at home while others carry on our battle in other lands. We must keep alive the spirit of love and fel- lowfihip that is (hiristnias so tliat in the peaceful world of tomorrow Cod’s gift to another war- torn world shall not have been in vain. Our Enemy on the Homefront... Buy More Christmas Seals Americans are again being called upon to rise up and put down an enemy which is equally as ilcadly and rutliless as all of the aggressive nations as earth. Our attention must not bo diverted to the fighting front to such an extent that we forget mr (luiic's here at liome where tuhercmlosis is wag ing a ceaseless war against every man, woman and child living in these great United States. You can put down tliis tyrant and provide for tlmse Wiio are unfortunate enough to have been overcome with this treacherous disease by buying all the Christmas seals tliat you can afford and then some. Tlie seals you buy may put somebody one step nearer recovery. ‘Gestapo’ Gets Results . . . Alftiougli Ihere has been a good deal of criticism from dilferent sources—including llioii Life—of our sipiad here at Senior high, we of the editorial staff would like to offer our “graeias” to Pete (Himmler) Miller, trafiie ehiof. and his very able —and pistol (eap) packin’—crew of ‘henchmen.’ Ihifh Iho cafeteria line jiroblem and the traffic on the s't'iw have been imprbvtHi since the organi zation of the new squad—alias the “gestapo.” Keep it up boys! The nation was astounded, some even horri fied, at the triumph of liberals in the first election to the New York city council, con ducted through the propositional representa tion system, commonly called P. K. by its proponents. Briefly, the system works like this: on the ballot, the voter marks No. 1 by his first choice, No. 2 by his second choice and No. 3 by his third choice. If his first choice fails to win the election his vote is transferred to his .second choice, if his second choice loses the vote goes to his third. This practice is in (•ommon use by American housewives who, if they cannot got exactly what they want due to rationing, they will take a second choice. The natural question os to whj' there is so much opposition to an election system designed to promote better elections is asked. The answer is simple. Conservatives fear they will lose much of their power in elec tions when voters are freely allowed to elect liberals or progre.ssives. It is again the old argument of whether the vote should be given everyone on the basis of .several choices or on the basis of financial or social standing. Record Session Pctrillo’s relaxing the ban on making re cordings, his enabled Decca to put out some of tlie latest hits. One of these is a fine iir- rangenient of the My Heart Tells Me. Kenny Sargent takes the vocal honors, tind is backed up by the music of Glen Gray and his Casa Lonu orchestra. To make a good record even more desirable, Shining Hour takes up the .space on theJ opposite side of the disc. Hero comes another war song! It’s the feelings of a gal who’s really being true to her fighting here. Ella Mae Morse, who used to sing with Freddie Slack, is now vocalist with her liubbie’s band. Sbe made Cow-Cow- Boogie famous, and her vocal, No Love, No Nothing, promises to be a best seller. Favorites: .lohn Rchopp—My Heart Tells Me (no par ticular arrangement.) Frances Antrim — Glenn Miller’s At Last with Ray Eberle on the vocal. David Swain—I’ll Be Around by the Mills’ brothers. Introductions After much scrambling around and many dirty books—the results of rather personal questions—we managed to get the following “dope” for y’all. MARGARET DONALD Is: Tiny, brunette, member of T. N. T. and Dragonette clubs. Likes: Blue, steaks, boys (!!) Hates: Green with blue, people who tell secrets. Does: Talk lots, go to see Gary Cooper and Ingrid Bergman’s movies. Listens to: J. Dorsey’s “Boogie-Woogie” and Andre Kostelanetz’ “Serenade for Strings.” Seen with: Betsy Hurley, Martha Schenck, and Nancy Sewell. JOE LINEMAN Is: Tray snatcher, president of home room 337, jitterbug. Likes: Helen, to get out early (out of what?), anything to eat. Dislikes: Somebody to take his woman (he means Oak Ridge). Does: Play football, baseball. Listens to: Glenn Miller’s records. Pastime: Staying home, sleeping ’n’ eat ing. Hangout: LeRoy’s. Wants for Christmas: Helen ! BEVERLY BELL Likes : Lemon i)ie, cheese, French, air corps. Does : Talks all the time, writes. Has: A purple sweater, long brown hair, bine eyes, a picture of Alan Ladd. Wants most of anything: Red hair. Ambition : To go to see the Taj Mahal. Pastime: Moving (86 different places, so far!) Listens to: B. Goodman’s “Just the Way You Look Tonight,” Miss Smith. Navigates with : Angie, Sally. CARL COCHRANE Is: President of home room 1(>, a goon, soda-jerk. Has: A car (that’s what he calls it!), blonde hair, blue eyes, a wine colored shirt. Likes: Food, football, brown, women. Hates: Moochers, one-eyed cars (when he doesn't have a date). Does : Writes for Hi Life, messes. Listens to: “Carnival of Venice,” by Harry James and “Night and Day.” Seen with: Adger, Steve, Tex, Z, and Gus. In the days when Augustus Caesar was master of many kings and Herod ruled in .Tevusalem, there lived in the mountains of Per.sia u man called Artaban, the Median. Artaban was one of the Magi, one who studied the skies, for owens. He knew that the birth of the I’romisod One was near, and with his friends, Caspar, Mel- clioir and Balthazar, he had made his plans to atlend the birth of the Christ. With the money lie received from the sale of all of his possessions, he purchased a ruby, a sapphire and a ix‘arl. These were to be his gifts to tlie king. The long-awaited night arrived and a new and brilliant star appeared—the sign that the birtli of the (ffirist was near. A short lime later, Artaban mounted on his great white liorse, Uaeda, was speeding across the desert to the temple on the other side which was to be the meeting place of the four wisemen. When he had but three liours more of journeying to reach his destination and while riding through a grove of palm trees, he came upon a man nearly dead of a terrible fever. Should ho stop, and, by stopping save a man’s life or should he continue on his way- Artaban know if he delayed but an hour he would arrive too late at his rendezvous. In the end he stopped and hours later when the man had regained con sciousness, the Magi moved on to his desti nation. only to find, on arriving there, that his comrades had gone on, leaving only a note, “We have waited i»ast the midnight and can delay no longer. We go to find the King. Follow us across the desert.” Arriving in Bethlehem throe days after the three wise men, Artaban sought refresh ment in an luimble home, where a mother sat fondling her small baby. Suddenly, down the street, arose a great clamor, “They are killing our children”! As Artaban stood in the doorway, his great height and flowing robes filling the space, a soldier came down the street, his hands and sword red with blood. “There is no child here,” Artaban told him, handing liim the fiery ruby. The man seized the gem and went on his way. “God of trutli, forgive my sin! I have said the thing that is not, to save the life of a little child. I have spent for man what was meant for God. Shall I ever be worthy to see the face of the king?” This was Artaban’s despairing prayer. Thirty-three years pa.ssed away, and Arta ban, now old and tired with years, found himself again in Jerusalem. All around him people surged—all seemingly bound for one lilaoe. When he asked where, they replied, *lo Golgotha. There is to be a crucifixion —two thieves and one who calls himself Jesus of Nazareth.” At these words, the old man’s heart beat unsteadily. Was he, at last, to see his King? So the old man followed the multiude with wavering stops. As he moved along a group of soldiers ap peared, dropping a young girl along. She threw herself at the old man’s feet, implor ing him pay the soldiers and free her. Artaban trembled. Should he give his pearl, his last gift for the Christ, to save this girl from slavery? He took the pearl from his pocket, and laid it in the hand of the slave. Even as he did these things, the sky ciarkMiea, ami the earth beneath him trem- hteil. The walls of the houses rocked, and the old man was struck on the head by a Hying stone. He fell to the earth, and, as he lay there, a voice broke through the noise of the earth quake, “Verily I say unto thee, Isasmuch as thou hast done It uuto the least of these, iny brethren, thou hast done it unto me.” -V calm radiance of wonder lighted the pale face of Artaban. One long, last breath exhaled gently from his lips. His journey was ended. By JIMMY RAWLINS Story of ‘The Other Wise Mari Follows Travels of Fourth Magi NOTE: 7'/tis story, hy Henry Tan Dyke, is the second in High Life's series of hook reviews. Once in this column we made the observa tion that about the worst thing that could happen to a man would be to fall in love. Well, we saw something over at Bert’s the other night that made us ponder a bit. It was just a boy and a girl sitting together in a booth—something that you can see there almost any night, but the fact that these two were in love made them stand out above the rest. They made a good looking couple too. She was a beautiful girl—she had ash blond hair and eyes like a summer sky and lips that were made for laughter and kisses. His hair was the same color as hers, but he had laughing brown eyes and he looked like he wanted to kiss her right there just to show that she was his. They ordered cokes and never drank them. They looked at each other and forgot that there was anybody else around. For almost two hours they sat there holding hands across the table and talking, occasionally, to each other about each other. I’ve seen them several times since then and they always look the same way. Like this is their world, every body else is just hanging around. Something like that is beautiful, and it makes you feel warm inside to see it. You feel that maybe there is some good left in the world after all and that this war is not being fought in vain. • Before I go any further I want to lecture a little. Basketball season is here now, and by golly I want to see somebody at the games besides the two teams and the officials for once. Attendance for the past two years has been downright discouraging and I can’t see any reason for it. Basketball is a faster game than football; consequently, mathematically, you get more thrills per square minute. At a football game you go out to a stadium and sit around freezing to death until something exciting happens; then you jump up and yell and then sit back down and shiver some more. Now on the other hand, at a basketball game you get a nice heated gym and an almost guaranteed promise of continuous action. You can holler and yell until you’re all bug-eyed and red in the face and there’s never a dull moment; so let’s see if we can’t be turning out a little more to see the Whirlies in action this year. • I ran into Ben Richardson and Dick Hall the other night. I doubt if many of you re member them, they’re old time G.H.S.’ers, now in the army in Mississippi. Ben was in the famous “Flight of the P-40” to Miami in 3940; while most of you remember Dick through his brother, Ed Hall, I expect. Any way, they said that they get High Life regu larly and that surprised me somewhat, be cause, somehow', I'd never thought of the paper getting beyond the portals of the old Alma Mater. It also opened up a new line of thought. I suppose there are right many boys scattered here and there across the country, in or out of uniform, who w'ould like to know the whereabouts of some of their old acquaint ances who used to date their girls and mooch their cigarettes. If so just drop me a line in care of High Life and I’ll do my best to contact them through this column. For in stance Ben says that he hasn’t heard a word from his old side kicks, Bill Preddy and Bob Boaz. If you fellows read this, w'hy don’t you drop him a line. • Well, my friends, this issue of High Life about winds up our column for 1943. The next time 5’ou hear from us it will be Jan uary 21, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and forty-four. Exams will be drawing near. Another semester, new sub jects, (for some—same old ones for me) more F’s, more fun; 1943 will lie ancient history. The old year will leave a bitter taste in the mouths of a few', but for many it will bring pleasant remembrances. It will, no doubt, go down in history as the turning point of the war and as the year that Rawlins got a report card without an P on it. Anyway let’s hope for better things next year—a? don t w’e always every new year—and dont forget the dance tonight. Mr. Harriman’s Melody Masters are going to play and although very few people over here have heard them, they are plenty good; aside from that you might as well get a date because it's going to cost you just as much to get in stag—a half-buck either way.
Grimsley High School Student Newspaper
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Dec. 17, 1943, edition 1
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