There's an added pleasure in giving Camels Tat Christmas. You know your gift will be so genuinely welcome_ More smokers prefer Camels than any other cigarette - And that preference holds for men in the Army, th e Navy, the Marines, and the Coast Guard, too! So remember those lads in uniform remember all the cigarette smokers on your list with the cigarette of costlier tobaccos - Camels_ Your choice of the package of four flat fifties or the popular Camel carton.
PRINCE ALBERT
If he smokes a pipe, a big, long-lasting pound -,r of cool-burning Prince Albert spells smoking pleasure 'way into the New Year ... at camp, on ship, at home Prince Albert is choice tobacco , " nobite " treated for mildness and " crimp cut." It's the National Joy Smoke. There's no other tobacco like it. Your local dealer has two handsome Prince Albert "specials" the pound tin (above) or the special glass humidor jar (The humidor itself makes a handsome gift!) Get yours today.
Richmond College Editor Westhampton College Editor
HARROL A. BRAUER, JR. FRANCES ELLIS
Assistant Editors
JANICE LANE LILA WICKER
MARK WILLING
Editorial Staff
ALLISTER McKENZIE ERNEST MOONEY
ANN BYRD TUCKER LOUISE WILEY
ROSE KALTUKIN NANCY MASTERS
MARIANNE \Y/ ADDILL
Art Staff
ED LUTTRELL
Business Manager
ROBERT S. BLACK
VOLUME XLIX
FRANCES BEAZLEY
Assistant Business Manager
THOMAS J. CURTIS
DECEMBER, 1941 No. 2
We cannot forget the Christmas editorial of our predecessors. For your benefit and ours we reprint it as we once more prepare for the Yuletide Season.
" d h " an on eart , peace-
F or this issue we wanted to write an appropriate editorial about brotherhood and peace on earth. So we turned to our Bible to get the exact wording of the much-quoted Christmas precept. What we found set us wondering, and we decided to look at another version of the Bible. This confused us still more and so we're passing it on to you for your interpretation. The King James version says, " ... and on earth peace , good will toward men." Whereas, the American Revision states, ". . . and on earth peace among men in whom He is well pleased."
The most of our appreciations are born of experience. It is true that we can never enjoy without first making ourselves a part of the situation. We may write as we dare write and read whatever our fancies finger for the moment . . . but are we, as students, so small as to overlook all this that is aside from the domain of routine?
Perhaps it is necessary to try something for a second time before it conforms itself to the categories of our appreciation. The attitudes and impressions of another are published for us to read at will; how can we fairly judge his word by our standards until we have read it? His significance is a challenge to our expression, and rightfully, we should contribute our concepts of both individual and worldly iniative.
The MESSENGER essays to g ive to its student body the best that has been offered for publication. Into the magazine has gone a representation of the experiences of those who wish to take full advantage of what is theirs to enjoy. Thus our own experience, even though intangible, lends itself toward a fuller meaning and a more circumspective appreciation. F. E.
The staff of THE MESSENGER extends @ to you their heartiest wishes for a @ c..Merry Christmas
and a
Happy N_ew Year
[Eo1ToR's NoTE: From a d ef ens e class on Propaganda cam e this editorial.]
What is Propaganda? How can we recognize it ? What shall be our opinion concerning its part in American defense? Such are the questions that are of real concern to most of us. Of course we, a s college students, are not going to be great l y swayed by the fiery speech of a well-known Communis t leader , nor the brilliant posters that Nazi agent s distribute among the very poor and laborin g classes; but our opinion is formed by what w e hear and see each day, and, for the most part, ou r information is at le ast second-hand. Do we check up on what we hear? Do we make certain that it i s true before we repeat it as fact to someone else ? Public opinion, right or wrong, is the ruling powe r in a democracy, and we make that public opinion . Never before has it been so necessary that w e found our opinions and ideas on truth. Our position tomorrow will be the result of our action s today, and the longer we wait to act by the truth , so long will it be before our dream of world-wid e democracy can be realized. A. B. T.
[ 2 J
TwentiethCentury God .
By LUCY McDONOUGH, '42
JAN FORSTER pulled his cap down over his ears and turned up the collar of his lumberjacket before he stepped out from the door of the factory. Then , putting his hands in his pockets,
he began to trudge across the wide cement yard to the gate. He paid no attention to the crowds of men jostling past him, nor did they notice him. No one was talking much . Only now and then did someone say "hello" or nod silently.
At the gate, the guard ' s eyes searched his face as he showed his pass. Then with a jerk of his head, he motioned for him to move on. Jan put his pass away and stepped out into the winter twilight. He · pulled his jacket more closely about him . The snowflakes struck his face softly, and he buried his chin in his collar. He blew into it. Some of the breath changed to frosty vapor , but it was warmer. He blew again. He was conscious of an irritation about his big toe. That was the same place the other hole had been. Elsie would have to sew it up.
Lucy McDonough Ficti o n Cont est Winner
A few of the night shift, coming on, passed without speaking. Behind him, he could hear the hum of machines Even when he was not at the factory he heard them. They were calling him. "-come back, come back, come back- ." He shut his eyes, but he had to open them again when he bumped someone. The man did not look up. He only grunted angrily.
As he stepped down into the snow, Jan watched it creep over the soles of his shoes, and listened to the dry crunching sound it made. It helped to keep out the humming of the machines.
Elsie was waiting for him when he got home, and the stew was ready. She sat in the kitchen and darned his sock while he ate.
"Goin' back tonight?" she asked.
He heard it again: "-come back, come back , come back-."
Jan nodded.
"Them shoes dry yet?"
Elsie went to the wood stove and poked the shoes on top of it.
··1n a minute. You oughtn't to be settin' there in your bare feet."
He grunted and walked over to the fire.
"They got a new crew on the Big Machine. "
Elsie looked at him quickly. Strangely wide eyes met her husband's, as, leaning forward, he spoke softly , eyes glistening.
"They're doin' some new work on it. New parts " ·
They sat staring at each other. Then the light went out of Jan's eyes.
"Sometimes , it don't seem right. I mean it's like watching somethin ' that's more than h°lfman. Somethin ' that maybe' s too big and too powerful and maybe we ought not to know about."
Elsie began again on the sock.
"It feeds us, Jan. It's been feedin' us for thirty years you been janitor. It's big and powerful enough to feed us."
The fringe of the lampshade jiggled at the touch of her elbow . Neither spoke as the thin fingers pushed the needle back and forth. When she finished, Jan put the socks and his shoes on again Elsie handed him his cap and jacket and a little brown bundle.
"I fixed you a san'wich. "
He took it and went out of the door into the cold.
The factory roared and belched a welcome. When he passed the long rows of workers, the set, stolid faces did not look up, and he went out of the big room into a larger section. He could no longer hear the buzzing of the little engines. They were drowned by the thunder of The Big Machine.
Involuntarily he hesitated, as always, and stared at it. The steel towers rose to the ceiling and the maze of metal bands and levers flew back and forth, up and down, to the boom of The Machine. His jaw tightened
"You Machine. Hollerin' and bellerin' !"
He quenched a breath and started to move. The noise grew louder-louder. Over the catwalk, on the floor above, the men appeared to him as tiny corpuscles, coursing through the arteries of The Big Machine.
"Forster!"
He started, then raised his face to the platform above.
[ 3 ]
"Get those tools up here! This thing's slipped."
Jan went into the tool room. It had slipped! The Great Machine! As he went up the steps he stared at it. There was a catch in its thunder. Its boom was divided. His grip on the tools tightened, and he went faster. He handed the tools to the mechanic and stood still while he worked with them. He heard ugly, uneven, grinding sounds.
The mechanic turned to him and pointed upwards, to the catwalk. Jan followed his gaze to the big motor. The mechanic gestured again. Jan turned, slowly at first, then ran up the long flights of stairs cursing and praying. Up on the catwalk there was a lever. You pulled it and The Machine stopped-at your will. He went faster and faster.
The narrow catwalk stretched out before him, waiting. Cautiously, he put out one foot. Below him squatted The Machine. It belched angrily. He stepped out-further and further. Sweat stood out on his face, and his hands shook. As he looked down at the pounding drums-booming, booming-, his vision blurred, and he hesitated until the dizziness passed.
Before him loomed the big engine, churning and rumbling. Somewhere a whistle screamed. Far below him were men, tiny specks, running about. He swallowed. The lever was there--.
"Reach out and take it. Stop the grinding. Stop
the roar. Reach out and take the lever. One pull and it stops. One pull of that lever and The Machine will do your will. Reach out and take it."
The sweat ran off his forehead into his eyebrows. He stood still and then he put out his hand. There came a blast a flash of light. Jan started and looked down. His foot slipped and he clutched at the catwalk as he fell. He glimpsed the horror on the faces of the men below him. They did not move. Down - down - the pounding drums reached upward. Down--down-boom-boom-. His ears were splitting. The noise burst through his brain. Boom-boom-. And then it stopped. The roar was quiet. He was free.
He laughed while he made love And yet-the ·laughter ran not loud or sharp But curdled in his eyes and turned His lips in slow sweet curly smile.
There were no words burnt on his lips He knew life held for him no chance His life was sea, and war, and blood, And yet he laughed-as he made love. ANONYMOUS.
OursIs the Future
By NIN IT A GON Z ALEZ, '42
" It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness , it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity , it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair. "
CHARLES DICKENS.
WHAT was true of the age of the French Revolution is true of our age today, as it is true of any age of dramatic crisis. A time of crisis is a time of vast possibilities , of high potentialities-for good on the one hand , for evil on the other. There are times in history when one feels the universe pause on the brink of some tremendous decision, when it seems as though the dark Fates who hitherto dallied but idly with the affairs of men are massing themselves for some irrevocable decision One senses that here is a point at which future generations will look and in the perspective of time say: 11 T he re was the blow struck. There was the decision which made the world the place we know There was the mistake , or there the victory ." Today is such a time . And we are not ready for it. None of us are. Our governments are not ready, our factories are not ready, our leaders , our neighbors, our workers are not ready. But above all our minds are not ready. We are bewildered and unsure; we are afraid and over-confident ; we are suspicious and gullible. In the face of a world crisis of incalculable proportions , our anxiety is matched only by our ignorance, our idealism by our confusion. This is particularly true of the youth of the nation, who feel vaguely that they should be doing something about something, but what? After all, who knows what the whole thing is about anyway? Why should we let ourselves get all stirred up by a lot of propaganda and war-mongering patriotism? It happened before, didn ' t it? And what good did it do? We work hard and pay our taxes, so let the government take care of the rest! So runs the argument of ignorance and indifference, of a selfishness as thoughtless as it is fatal to national strength. In a situation such as this, the role of the college student becomes increasingly important. It has been reiterated to the point of triteness that we
are the leaders of tomorrow, that today is our golden opportuni t y to prepare ourselves, that the future belongs to us. We have heard it so often that it no longer has the power to challenge and inspire us as it should. We accept it as it is told to us and never realize its implications. But now we must. Now when t he whole world is taking stock of itself, we must pause and consider our own position. What is it all about? What is our part in national defense? What can be done? What should we be doing?
ITo defend one ' s country is to make it strong, to make it impregnable physically and spiritually. We are building up our material defenses with planes and tanks and bases and guns and ships. We are training an army of soldiers to man these machines, and we are trying to train a nation of civilians to supplement and support this first group The army and all that it takes to make it an effective force constitute material defense; the nation and all that it takes to make its civilian population an effective force constitute spiritual defense Either of these without the other is powerless; together they can def end America.
Except in the case of those men who are subject to the draft, college students can have little direct influence on the material defense of the country. They are not actively engaged in the production of planes and bombs; they cannot launch battleships or settle labor strikes. But they can prepare themselves for these tasks. They can acquire the technical training that is necessary, they can take the courses and read the books that will help them unders t and the problems of defense production and war-time industry . They can learn to fly, to survey iand , to make bandages , to care for the sick. All of these skills they can acquire now in preparation for active use later.
However, it is in the spiritual defense of America that college students can play their largest part, for it is in this realm that they are most directly concerned. The basis of spiritual defense is knowledge and understanding. It is only through an in t elligent and clear-sighted view of the whole situation that we can make adequate and efficient [ 5 J
adjustment to it. It is only by knowing what is fundamental and worthwhile that we can eliminate the trivial and useless. The first and most important job of the American college student, then, is to be informed so thoroughly and objectively that he can view his country and its problems without prejudice, fear, or hysteria. He must be able to look at the situation logically and, considering its alternatives, choose his course. And having recognized the choice to which allegiance to his country's good must bind him, he must have the courage to follow this course even at the cost of sacrifice and ridicule . The time has come when we, as part of the nation, must realize what is at stake and what changes may be necessary in our comfortable way of living , if we are to preserve the ideals which make it possible.
II
If these are the ways in which college students can have a part in national defense, in what measure have they risen to this demand and made an active contribution? A full answer to this question could be obtained only through a nation-wide poll or survey, but indications as to its direction may be gathered from other sources. That the college youth of the nation is interested in national defense, is obvious from the emphasis which the subject receives whenever representatives of a college group meet to discuss their plans and problems. At the national convention of Mortar Board at Buck Hill Falls , Pennsylvania, last June , it was the subject of one of the main symposiums on student affairs. Here met the acknowledged leaders of women ' s colleges from Maine to Florida and from Washington to California , and many were the projects and programs discussed. Again , at the Women's Intercollegiate Association of Student Governments convention which met this fall at the University of Vermont, national defense was one of the main topics discussed And from the southern association of student governments which will meet in the spring are already coming suggested outlines for similar symposiums and discussions. There is no doubt as to the existence of student interest in national defense.
What actually are the things that these student groups have done or are planning to do? In general they divide themselves into three fields: One, the enlightening and stimulating of student minds to the consideration of national and international problems; Two, the training of stud en ts in specific skills which would be useful in time of war; and Three, the organized contribution of money or
time to various relief or aid societies, such as the Red Cross.
In the first of these fields, the stimulation of student minds, many colleges such as the University of Washington have used open forums, small discussion groups, and panel discussions on current topics. Others such as the Carnegie Institute of Technology stress the acquisition of useful skills, learning to work with your hands, courses in first aid , home nursing , map making. At the University of Cincinnati , the emphasis is on service to the needy, knitting and sewing and bandagemaking. All over the country , colleges are revaluating their activities in terms of a national emergency The afternoons which used to be wasted by students in idle amusement , are now occupied with constructive work . The hours which used to be devoted to haphazard " Bull-sessioning ," are being used more and more for real thinking. The courses which used to be shunned, are being studied; the books which used to be skimmed through , are being read. We are waking up to the seriousness of our world situation , and are preparing ourselves to take an active part in it.
That is, some of us are. It cannot be denied that there are still those who think an undergraduate ' s sole aim in life should be to have as much fun with as little effort as possible. There are those who are not willing to sacrifice a single hour of pleasure , a little bit of comfort, or even a solitary brain cell to the defense of their country. There have always been those-and their number is obviously by no means limited to the student population - who refuse to face a situation until it blows up in their faces. There are many such among the students of America today , but daily their number is growing smaller as an increasing number of their enlightened fellows determine that America can and must be defended from without and within
III
We ar e the leaders of tomorrow; the future do es belong to us. And this future which we are planning can be either the dawn of a day of victory for mankind or a night of ashes and destruction from which the world will rise again but slowly. We want it to be a day of victory , and we here dedicate ourselves to that purpose-to the free and honest search for truth, to faith and self-sacrifice and strength of will, to the ideals of democracy on which our life is founded We cannot hope to lead America in the future, if we do not help to defend it now.
PEACEON EARTH
By LILA WICKER, '42
THE stillness of the night held enchantment. The hush was holy, and in spite of the December month there was a soul warming glow which radiated from the crude stable. It was a poor pretense of shelter; huge cracks yawned between the rotten boards in the walls , and great drafts played in and out of each opening. The sheep standing stupidly or lying asleep made no noise except at odd moments when one would move restlessly in pursuit of bodily comfort. They paid no heed to the three human figures huddled in one of the stalls , not realizing that they were a background for one of the few great miracles of the world.
The group of three was a family-a very new family since the baby had been born the night before. The man in his rough , loose clothing stood with a proud , unbelieving smile on his face looking at the two before him. He seemed lost in thou g ht , but every now and then he would raise his head sharply as if he heard movements around him and footsteps approaching. He feared the wrath of the Romans if they lingered here much longer, but Mary was so weak and the Child so small. The servants of the mighty Roman Empire would not consider this an excuse for accursed Jews to tarry on their w ay to register. The Empire ' s commands were always first; its subjugated people last.
Mary looked up at Joseph with that glorified light in her eyes that he had noticed so much of late She ran one finger tenderly along the splintery edge of the manger in which the child lay and loved him with mute adoration. There was no fear in her heart, but only a wonderful feeling of calm and peace. Her world lay before her in the manger , and from some divine source she drew on a bottomless well of strength. Although the outside world was in a restless, menacing state she felt in her simple peasant mind that in some unknown way a great change was coming-a hope , promise, and reality of peace for mankind.
On the edge of a desert somewhere to the east a group of learned scholars donned heavy cloaks , loaded chests with gifts, and prepared to set out on a journey. All wore looks of excitement on their usually calm faces as they shouted and threatened the servants into more hasty preparation. None knew where they were to go or why,
but all felt deep within them some force which compelled a journey, and all wondered when a sign would come to guide them They were ready at last but it was futile to move, blind, out into the desert wastes.
One went forth onto a high hill to look for guidance. He stood-a tall, majestic figure outlined against the rich sky of the orient, and scanned the heavens in hopeful eagerness . Unbending , gazing he stood, but finally he crumpled to his knees in despair on the ground.
"Oh, Lord , what is to become of us!" his soul cried out. "Send forth Thy light, Almighty, to mark our stumbling feet. We know we m u st go, but whither? De liver us we beg, 0 God of Light."
The night stood still and waited. It was not long. Like a candle that slowly caught fire, a glow began to appear overhead, and then a massive star emerged to shine in blinding radiance. The wiseman rose unbelieving to his feet, and as the star began to move, he broke the stillness with a shout . The star had come-they would follow.
The caravan moved across the drifting sands, and joy was in the hearts of all. The world was saved, and all was well; peace on earth, good will to men.
* * * * *
Nearly two thousand years later, another mother sits comforting her sobbing child. Her face is seamed with deep lines of fatigue and hunger, but her eyes are brave and undefeated. She hugs the quivering little body close to her own and strokes his tousled head with a gentle hand. People of all ages and stations in life are jammed around her. A few look at the small boy with pity, others with scorn, but most merely sit with vacant stares, listening and waiting in the cold London air raid shelter either for sudden death or deliverance . To some it makes no difference; they are immune to all emotions and desire to live. Most however have an aching desire to live again a; free me~ and women above the earth. This is their land and they wish to cling to it for all time .
The mother raises the child ' s tear-stained face and speaks to him in low tones. "Billy boy, you mustn't do this, you know. Daddy wouldn't want you to cry We' ll have another house some day even bigger than the old one , but we m u st be
thanktul that we have this shelter to come to. You' re my protector now and an Englishman and Englishmen are brave." The small shoulders stiffen and a little hand raises in stumbling salute. Tears come suddenly into the woman's eyes, but she brings a courageous smile to her lips. "That's the soldier Daddy wants you to be. Be brave for Daddy and peace again in England."
Her heart is wrung with grief and pride for her young son, on this Christmas Eve. There is no money this year for beautiful toys as before and no chimney from which to hang a stocking. She thinks of the lone package tied bravely in its used tissue paper salvaged from an old hat box. It is only a cheap teddy bear with comical ears and glass eyes, but he is worth the meals slighted to pay for his purchase. Her thoughts swerve and she thinks of that other baby so many years ago with nothing, not even a place to lay his head. She feels herself rich and fortunate. This cannot last forever. There will be peace again, and hope for happiness ahead.
Out on the bleak chalk cliff of Dover a sentry stands, his eyes turned constantly toward the
heavens , but his thoughts are turned back from this Christmas to the years before. He thinks of laughing friends, some who no longer laugh, of a warm glowing hearth trimmed in holly and mistletoe which now is a yawning shell crater, of his wife and son whom he only hopes are alive. It is cold, and he stamps his feet. It has been a week now since he has received a letter from his wife filled with futile hopes and warm love. A bitter ache of loneliness and longing rises in his chest, and his young mouth settles into grim lines
He starts. Is that a sound overhead? Have the bombers come to wreck on Christmas Eve? He strains to see the telltale light, but finds none. Slowly he relaxes.
Sounds of marching feet come from behind. He turns to greet the incoming watch. It is twelve o'clock and Christmas day. The light has not come from the east tonight, and there has been peace if only for a few short hours. He salutes and turns, then pauses and says, "Merry Christmas, my friend."
A ChristmasPoem
The star that shone on Bethlehem Two thousand years ago still stands; Its golden light finds men below At war-their bloody hands, A symbol of the greed that crushes Many lands.
Its light shines on beyond today Into a future land at peace. The message of a Christmas eve Will live-with time will cease This cruel age beneath a Godless Tyrant's lease.
ANN BYRD TUCKER,
'43.
OVERHEAD
By MARK WILLING, '43
TO-DAY as the United States shifts into the high gear of war , college students throughout the country are preparing to do whatever they can in this, America's critical hour. Many of them are turning their eyes to the air and aviation in the realization of the important role that aeronautics plays in modern warfare. For the first time they are seeing with vivid clarity that the air is open , not to a limited few , but to every young man with a sound body and a normal degree of intelligence
However , there may be certain obstacles that arise to block this ambition. The man may be too young; he may not be in position at present to go a way to training school; and there may be long delays involved in the making of his application. It is possible that he does not quite measure up to the rigid physical requirements of the military or naval air forces . For all these men and for any other healthy college student who desires to fly the Civil Aeronautics Administration offers its Civilian Pilot Training Program courses
These courses are offered at some four hundred colleges and universities throughout the nation. One of these is the unit that is offered here at the University of Richmond , said by the government inspectors to be among the best in the Middle Atlantic district. The Course here has been offered in cooperation with both the U. S. Civil Aeronautics Administration and the Richmond Air Transport and Sales Corporation at Byrd Airport , and has been given continually since the Fall of 1939.
Richmond's unit in this program for national defense offers two courses in flying; the primary, or beginning course, and the secondary, or advance course. In the primary course the student receives from thirty-five to forty-five hours of flight training , and in addition he receives seventy-two hours of ground instruction at the university. His work in the air consists of mastering the art of flying in its more elemental stages , and in addition he learns some basic maneuvers. During the final phases of the courses he is required to take a cross-country flight in which he applies much of the knowledge he has gained at the ground class sessions. At the completion of the course he takes a final examination, given by one of the Civil Aeronautics Administration's inspectors.
9}
His work at ground school requires seventy-two hours of attendance at a class that meets three afternoons each week, and it is here he learns the theory of flight, the Civil Air Regulations, navigation, and meteorology Upon completing the course, both flight and ground work, he is awarded a private pilot license which entitles him to fly passengers anywhere he may desire within the boundaries of the United States.
The secondary course is open to certain ones of those students who have completed the beginning course satisfactorily. In this work the student receives forty hours of advanced flight training in which he learns to fly larger ships, perform acrobatics, and in general increase his mastery of the art and science of flying. His ground school includes a review of the subjects he learned in the preceding course and also encompasses instruction in other subjects pertinent to more advanced aviation . At the conclusion of the instruction the student is required to take an examination, and if he passes this , he is awarded a higher airman rating than the one given for the primary. This does not mean that he can fly passengers or freight for hire , or in any other way capitalize financially upon his flying ability, but it does mean that he can now fly larger airplanes than he could before.
In order to be eligible for this training, the student must meet certain qualifications. He must be a citizen of the United States; he must be between the ages of nineteen and twenty-six years; and if he is a minor he must have the consent of his parents. If he is not enrolled in college, the student must have completed at least sixty semester hours; and if he is in college, he must have completed thirty semester hours to be eligible for the primary and sixty semester hours is the qualification for the secondary. He must pledge himself to complete the course, if begun; and further he must pledge himself to abide by the Civil Air regulations. He must also pledge himself to apply for flight training in the military forces of the United States if needed. Finally the student must pass a medical examination that is given by one of the Civil Aeronautics Administration ' s flight surgeons.
The program, as it is administered at the Univers~ty_of Richmond, has been used as an example, for 1t ts much the same as the ones now in opera-
tion at other institutions. At all colleges the government exercises extremely rigid supervision of the courses, the airplanes used, and the instructors in order that accidents will be kept down to an absolute minimum. The efficacy of this policy can best be illustrated by again pointing to the University of Richmond. At this unit there have been no serious accidents, and only one student has ever received an injury of any kind; a primary student, during last summer's program, bumped his head against the top of the cabin one day when getting into the airplane. The program, when surveyed as a whole, exhibits a truly remarkable record for safety in the air. In the 1939 program one person, out of eleven thousand trained, lost his life; and in the 1940 program, out of forty-five thousand trained, only two persons lost their lives.
From all that has been said it might seem that if a student attempted to take one of these courses he would be so burdened by it that he would not be able to keep up his work at college. The pro g ram has been carefully arranged so that this difficulty will not arise so that the flying and ground work will not interfere with the student's curricular work. Since there is no outside study connected with the flying , the airport has no call upon the student after he has put in his required time in the air. The ground classes meet either durin g the afternoon or evening three times each week; these times have been arranged so that the classes will be in session at times when there is no conflict.
The classroom work in both of the courses has been so planned that there will be a minimum of outside work and a maximum of actual class study. This enables the student to take aviation along with his normal course of study and still be comparatively unburdened by homework.
It is pertinent to note here that the university gives credit for the aeronautics courses Four semester hours credit are given for the Primary ,
and six semester hours for the Secondary . In addition to this, it is now possible for the student to minor in aviation provided that he takes both the beginning and advanced courses together with certain mathematics and physics courses that the department will designate. Since the university allows credit for these courses , the student may take either or both of them as electives in a liberal arts course.
The whole purpose of this great nationwide training program is to provide a vast reserve of airmen thoroughly schooled in the basic principles of flight theory and elementary flying , who will serve as a valuable pool from which the military and naval air forces can draw material for accelerated training From this pool potential fighting pilots , bombardiers, and aerial navigators and photographers will be taken.
Not all the pilots so trained will be attached to the country's armed forces, however. Many of them will find themselves stationed in various departments of commercial flying as air mail pilots, ferry pilots for transporting airplanes from the factories or repair bases to the field of operations, ground and flight instructors in schools giving the government flying courses, etc. Others will be placed in radio communications stations, research laboratories , airplane factories , and the like. This is not a comprehensive list of the various branches of aviation in which men will soon be needed, or of all those for which government training serves as a background; but it does g ive some idea of the many phases of aeronautics wherein men with training will be placed
As the Civilian Pilot Training Program enters its third year of existence, its responsibility becomes greater and its destiny more clear-cut; for is is giving to those who desire to man the high battlements of America ' s air defense , the opportunity they seek.
<!brtstmas l\ebelatton
*The force of evil stress and strain Beat in upon my heart and brain Until my soul in protest cried Defiance to a murky sky: "There is no god but one of pain."My tears gave salt unto the rain. And then, as though a mighty hand Had struck a ponderous cymbal, and Caused sparks to course across the clouds; A rift appeared among the folds Of that dark and gloomy shroud. And there I saw a shimrpering, cold, And silent point of wondrous light Against the backdrop of the night.
As startled and as in a dream I gazed, there came a liquid stream Of brilliance from that tiny star, And in its midst-
A tiny Babe in Mother's arms.
In tears again, I fell to knees And pressed my face into the ground: As oh so fervently I prayed Unto my God I might be saved From future loss of faith; the sound Of myriads of voices clear Came pouring in my trembling ear. And every voice extolled the plan Of peace on Earth, good will to Man.
FRANCIS J. SNOW, '42.
The Story Behindthe Headlines
By GEO RGIA SIMPSO N, '43
66THE
story behind the headlines? Do the newspapers ever know the actual circumstances that make their stories? Take for instance that story of -. Well, I'll tell you the story, and you be the judge."
* * *
Slowly the shadows of evening filled the room. Outside, snow flakes whispered in the dark, covering the earth with a cold, white mantle; inside , only the crackling of the blazing fireplace logs broke the meditative silence. Before the fire sat a young man, his finely chiseled features faintly visible through the haze of smoke that arose from his pipe.
A bell tinkled through the silence and aroused the young man from his dreaming.
"Come in."
The door opened softly.
" Is it you, Molly? "
" Aye , sir. 'Tis me." And the flickering light of the fire fell on the rather buxom figure of a little, white-haired lady "I hae brought ye some tea to drink while ye are readin ' the evenin' papers. ' Tis a cauld nicht we weel be havin' an' a spot o' tea well tak the chill out o' your blude."
While she talked, Molly laid the papers on the table by the young man's chair and poured two steaming cups of tea. Once more the room was heavy with silence. Then Molly, seeing that her friend's cup was still untouched, asked, "Is somethin' wrong, sir? Ye haena drunk your tea. Are ye sick agin, sir?"
"No , Molly," sighed the young man , " I am not sick. I was just thinking of a night like this years ago. "
"Nou, sir, ye ken whit the doctor said. He says to me , 'Nau Molly,' he says, ' ye maunna let the boy worry or think about himself to muckle. He weel make himself sick, an' we well hae to put him to bed agin.' I told that doctor that I wadna let you get sick agin, sae drink your tea, sir, an' daena dream o' streen. "
" All right, Molly. I will be a good boy and follow the doctor ' s orders. Now suppose you tell me what you and Mrs. MacGrudder did today. Have you finished your quilt yet? "
"Nae, sir, 'tis far frae finished that is. Mrs . MacGrudder gabs to muckle. She is the kind to be aye askin' questions, she is. Sune I weel tell her
to tak her needle an' gae home. But she has a hert o' goud inspite o ' her gabbin' , an' I luve to watch her shue. But aneuch o ' that luckie. We hae a metin' o' the guid ladyes o' the church tomorrow , sae wad ye hae a mind to read me the news?"
" Certainly, Molly," said the young man taking up the paper. "Let's see what the headlines are Hm ! President to make fireside chat. Chief executive to discuss U. S. foreign policy. Five convicts escape from prison killing guard. Millionaire seeks son."
" Read the last yin, sir."
" All right. 'In a conference with reporters this evening Mr. Richard Calvert Baker , II, millionaire industrialist, said that he was conducting a nationwide search for his missing son in hopes that the boy ' s return \.Villbring about the recovery of Mrs Baker who is critically ill.
" 'According to the statement of the family physician, Dr. Charles La Varre, Mrs. Baker ' s illness was due to a nervous breakdown caused by prolonged worry over her son ' s disappearance and that there is little hope for recovery unless the son returns.
" ' The police of the neighboring states have been asked to help with the search. Thus far , the y have had no success.
" 'Since young Mr. Baker disappeared five year s ago , no one connected with the family has heard from him.
" 'At nine o ' clock tonight , during the Bake r Steel program, Mr. Baker , senior will broadcast a plea for his son ' s return.
" ' The following description of the younger Mr. B a ker was furnished by those of his friends wh o saw him last. He is six feet tall, has dark brown eyes and dark brown hair. He is twenty-five year s old and weighs about 195 pounds.
" ' Anyone having information concerning th e whereabouts of Mr. Baker please communicat e with his father , this paper , or the police immediately.
" ' It is understood by this reporter that th e younger Mr. Baker disappeared mysteriously five years ago tonight. No one has been able to give a reason for the boy ' s sudden departure .' "
"My! 0, my! Whit is this auld world comin ' to? Wha wad think a laddie wad gae away fra e hame and make his mither greet with his wimplin'."
"Maybe he doesn't know that his mother is sick. Remember that the paper says that the boy has been missing for five years. He probably has not had a cl1ance to see his mother in that time. If he has not seen or heard from her, he would not know that she was sick, would he?"
"Whit ye are saying is true, sir. But he should never hae left his mither and hame at all. For that his father should whip him gude." If he was my laddie he wad be whipped even if I had to get twa-hree guidmen to hauld him."
"Then you would advise him to return home if he was to ask your advice. "
"Aye He weel be doing muckle wrong if he dinna gae hame. For his mither's sake he maun gae hame ."
While she talked, Molly put a log on the fire, and then she stood in silence watching the dancing sparks.
"Why are you so silent , Molly? What are you dreaming about? "
"I was juist wonderin ' if that laddie was a cripple. "
The young man who had risen and was now standing before the fire supporting himself on crutches looked suspiciously at Molly who still stared at the fire.
" What caused you to think of that?"
"Nocht ava, sir. I was juist wonderin ' I maun gae git ye sumpin ; to eat nou. I weel call ye when 'tis ready. " * *
If you had entered that same room about nme o ' clock , you would have thought it was the cell of a condemned criminal. In spite of his physical handicap the young man paced the floor. Finally wearied by his hobbling, he sat down at the piano and began fingering for those fleeting melodies that pass through one's mind. Suddenly it all ended in a clash of tone as if a momentous decision had been made. With determined strides he crossed the room , and turned on the radio.
"If you hear this broadcast, Richard, please come home. Your mother needs you. The doctor says that you' re the only one who can save her Please forgive and come home."
"Ladies and gentlemen, you have just heard Mr. Richard Calvert Baker , II, asking his son to return home. If anyone has any information concerning the young man please notify the police or call this station at once. The sponsor of this program asks that everyone be on the lookout for a young man six feet tall, weighing one hund--" · Click!
"Please forgive and come home," jeered the young man. "Forgive? Never!" * *
Later that night any attempts to sleep were troubled by scenes from another time which haunted his mind. He could see a room filled with men whose attention was focused on a man and a boy in the center of the group. The man kept demanding, "Confess to the police and reporters that the evidence is false. Admit that you framed Fish."
"But I tell you, father, it is true. Fish did embezzle the company's money."
The brittle silence of the room echoed the sound as the man struck the boy across the mouth.
"Don't be too hard on him. Remember he's just a boy, " pleaded one of the observers.
"He is man enough to ruin my business," came the angry retort. "Already the stockholders are demanding their money, and it is all his fault, the -the-the-. I can't even think of anything vile enough to fit him. He will retract his accusations, or I shall disown him."
The scene changed, and he could see a figure walking along a dark lonely road. "Kicked out , disinherited, broke, hungry, tired," a voice mumbled. "Got to keep awake. Here comes a truck. Better get off the road Lights awfully bright. Why doesn't he turn with the curve? Move feet , move." A scream, a squeal of brakes, and then silence.
Again he slept, and again he dreamed. This time there appeared the form of a person lying in a bed beside which knelt a gray-haired man. The man was sobbing and mumbling, "Why did I do it ? I won't ever forget the look on his face when I slapped him. Why did God ever give me such a temper? Oh, if he would only come back, I could beg his forgiveness. I would tell him how I wanted to run after him and bring him back. I -would tell him how proud I was when he stuck to his story like a man. I would tell him how I have prayed night after night for his return. He would soon know that I dido' t want to disinherit him, but that I was forced to cut him off. Oh, if he would only come back. "
Suddenly the tall, slender figure of a man walking on crutches appeared in the doorway. To a servant who approached to prevent his entrance he said, "I am the lost son. I am Richard Baker, III."
"You' re too late, sir. If you had come ten minutes earlier , you might have saved her. Now, she is dead."
[ 13}
He awoke ch illed by cold perspiration
"Co u ld th at really be true . Does l'le really think those things? Is she-? No, she can't be. She mustn ' t be."
Molly could not understand why her best boarder would be calling her at three o'clock in the mornmg.
As Mo ll y watched th e cab drive away she said to herself, " 'Tis God's b l essin' that he di n na hear the announcement at the end o' the broadcast yestreen. If he ken th at his mit h er was better he might not gae hame sae quickly. Aye weel h ae guid news to tell Mrs. MacGrudder while she shues today. "
"Molly! " * * *
'Tm comin'. Whit is wrong, sir? "
"I hope nothing is wrong , yet , Molly. I am going to t ake your advice and go home before it is too late. My cab is waiting. Good-bye, Molly. "
"Guid-bye, Master Dick, an ' God bless ye "
There ' s the real story What? Oh , you want to know what the paper said about it. There was a short write-up about the new vice-president of Baker Steel Corporation and a social and personal item to the effect that Mrs Baker was doing nicely
* * *
Time HealsAll
Time heals all, but yet I weep
As I recall the fragments of a bowl I made And shone, and painted-loving all the while The rounded shape and cool deep azure hue , Oh little bowl so much love I put in thee; A careless hand, and you were lumps of dust.
Time heals all but yet I sigh
As I permit my heart to loiter back And linger on the love that I once held, Of all the jokes we shared, the dreams we spun . Oh love that I played havoc with and laughed; Oh careless hands , a bree ze , and you were gone
ANONYMOUS .
* * *
The Daisy
Small and discolored, thus it grew
Weak on a beaten stem and brown , So that my foot-placed carelessly So easily might have crushed it down But for my eyes which lingered there And for my heart , amiss with woe , I might not have leant so tenderly And broken the poor weak stem , so low. Small, weary petals torn from its heart Each one so fragile it nearly broke , Sagging and tired, they le£t the flower Regardless of eager words I spoke.
He loves me daisy , he loves me not Flutters my heart 'twixt dirge and song How foolish-a daisy had to tell My heart-news that I knew all along.
ANONYMOUS.
[ 14]
The RoadhouseMandalay
By HERRING KIPPLERED
By the old Moulmein P a goda , lookin' eastward to the sea , There ' s a Burma girl a-sin g in' an ' I know she sings to me; For the wind is in the palm-trees , and the templebells they say : " Come get hep , you H a rlem ride-man, juicin ' blues at Mandalay .
REFRAIN
At the Roadhouse Mandalay , Where the jive is set to stay , Can ' t you hear that bandstand jumpin ' As the sweet stuff fades away ?
At the Roadhouse Mandalay , Where the hot musicians playClarinet rides up like thunder , Hot and blue , the Harlem way.
Her petticoat was yaller an' her little cap was green,
An' her name w a s Bessie Johnson , jes ' the same as Harlem ' s queen
An' I seen her first a-smokin ' of a whackin' black ogar , An' a-wastin ' hot blue vo cal on old Strauss ' s threefourths bar.
REFRAIN
An' I cut this alto loose, An ' I tuned her up to blues , So that now she moans so heavy That it shakes you in your shoes. Then there came around one day Guy from Roadhouse Mandalay ; And my Bessie sold her vocal For 500 rupees pay
When the mist was on the rice-fields an· the moon was droppin ' slow , I'd blow my muted trumpet an' she'd swing that "Hi-de-ho! "
With her arm upon my shoulder an' her cheek against my horn
We useter do "St. Louis Blues" until the light o ' morn.
REFRAIN
Bess an' me a-pilin ' notes Blue an ' hot above the boats That had all the deck-hands swingin' An' a-f eelin' of their oats!
At the Roadhouse Mandalay, Where they jive while yet they may , On the Palisades of Burma Hangin' high above the Bay
Now that's all'shoved behind me--Long ago an' fur away ,
But Chiang Kai Chek' s bus is runnin ' from Peking to Mandalay; And my Burma girl is moanin' out those blues we useter croon,
And the dirty trombone's groanin' out a lowdown boogie tune.
REFRAIN
Come you back to Mandalay, Where the solid jazz-boys slay All the straight gutbucket rythrns From ol' Memphis to the bay. At the Roadhouse Mandalay , Where the gang is drawin ' hay, An' those concrete mixers rumble On the Road to Mandalay
Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the temple-bells jump best, Where there ain't no Guy Lombardoes , bandstand never takes a rest.
Send me where my lowdown trumpet will be growlin' by an' large, Where I'll have my own casino with no lousy cover charge.
REFRAIN
At the Roadhouse Mandalay, Where the Chink truck drivers play, Can't you hear ol' Bessie sendin ' Blues until the break o' day?
At the Roadhouse Mandalay, Where the music lovers stay Till the Chinese trucks come thunderin' Out o' China ' cross the Bay
BEN Rouzrn, '44. [ 15 ]
A ConfederateYankee In Prince Raymond's Court
By HUGO LEAMING, '45
.. The Holy Roman Empire 0f German States during the Middle Ages consisted of hundreds of small states independent in both internal and external affairs. "
The voice of the history professor rolled on. The lecture room was filled with thirty or forty Freshmen in various degrees of consciousness , some gazing intently at the professor, but more simply awake, with chins resting on hands and arms on desks. One particular Freshman, however, on the back row, was under the influence of Morpheus, sprawling back on his seat almost horizontally; in fact, though dreadful to say , his eyes were closed!
The almost-asleep-one was a rather averagelooking frosh, slightly below average height , dark complexioned and wearing a wart on his nose. He was dressed neatly , if eccentrically , in bow-tie, garters, and other minor necessities of modern habit , and upon his identification button was engraved the succinct legend "Garibaldi McFadden , Corning, N. Y." He was a Federal among Confederates , a Yankee among Rebels , but his mind was at this moment dwelling not upon the differences between North and South; in fact it was , strictly speaking, A.W.O.L. But the professor's voice moved on ".
Some of these small states might compare in size with the campus here , for instance , with only a do zen or so soldiers , yet these tiny principalities could make war or peace and conduct forei g n affairs . . . . "
The fanciful comparison of Richmond Colle g e to an independent state raised some faint interest in Mr. McFadden's breast , and his eyes even slightly opened . The mental and physical exertion was too much, however, and Garibaldi relapsed this time into all-out unconsciousness. When Garibaldi McFadden awoke , he found himself lying in a narrow dirt road which was paved with brown soil and lined with great quantities of foliage "Why, this looks like right outside the University, " thought Garibaldi, " but where are the street car tracks?" There definitely were none except those of carts, and McFadden, scratching his
head, walked toward what should have been the college. Rounding a curve in the road , Garibaldi , expecting to find the small brick street car station , stopped, stunned! There was a brick building , true, but what a difference! The building seemed a moat house of a sort, for alongside it was a drawbridge , now lowered , and extending an interminable distance on its right and left was a ditch about ten feet broad , and as deep , full of muddy water.
This architectural difference was not , however , what made McFadden's eyes bulge the farthest , but rather the human figures apparently waitin g for him at the drawbridge. They were four in number, three of them being muscular fellow s dressed in dull green tunics, skull caps , and leathe r stockings , and carrying spears, while their leader , wrapped in a silken red and blue cloak and wearin g a tall , pointed , befeathered hat, carried a longgold-tipped staff with which he motioned the reluctant Garibaldi to approach.
" Welcome ye, " the imposing one spoke , "Welcome ye to the Principality of Ritchmonn-Kollitch ." Garibaldi stuttered, " W-well , th-thanks ; my name is G. McFadden; glad to meetcher , Mister." " I am the Lord Major-Domo to his Highness, " was the reply ; "Come , oh stranger , and I will shew thee the domains of milord the Prince. "
McFadden , in a sort of stupor , followed th e M a jor-Domo uncomplainingly , the three men in green falling in behind. They moved leisurel y across the drawbridge and down a path amon g cultivated evergreens Gradually the wood s thinned until they stopped entirely. On each sid e of the path, Garibaldi noticed groups of person s garbed in various -colored but uniformly ra g ge d clothes, some ploughing the fields but many on their knees in the green pasture land, bowing agai n and again toward the East.
Summoning up his coura g e, McFadden turn ed toward his guide and ventured, " W-who ar e they?" The Major-Domo stroked his chin an d answered: " Being an outlander, thou knowest n ot our ways, yet I will tell thee. They be the lowe st class in the Princedom , the serfs, or in our lan-
guage, the Froshermannen. The next highest class down there?" he asked, pointing toward the shore be the freedmen, or Soffermannen, and next the of the lake where Froshermannen were squatting yeomen or Yuniormannen, while the highest class at points of vantage and snatching at the sumof all be the men-at-arms or Seniormannen, of mits of wavelets. "That," replied the Major-Domo which be my guards here." "I see," said Garibaldi, apologetically, "is a quaint activity known among "but why are the serfs over there in their quaint the Froshermannen as 'eating.' They y-gripe concostumes bowing like that?" stantly that the Refectory of the Principality pro-
"The Froshermannen or as you say, serfs, be vides not adequate foode. Mine host of the tavern, Muslims," the guide replied, "and they be salaam- Budde Mayowulf, holdeth by royal charter a corner ing toward Mecca for rain, since there has been on the stuffe called by alchemists 'oxygennen.' drought here of late. List ye!" And Garibaldi And by his prohibitive taxxe on this, he hath heard faintly wafted to him by the wind from the caused the death of many small fisces in the loch. distance, "Oh, Allah, the compassionate, oh Allah, The Froshermannen, therefore, clutch these anithe merciful, send unto us the rain, the cool, the malles from the waters and devour them to supplehealing, the fruitful rain. Allah, Allah, Allah!" ment the foode of the Refectory."
By this time McFadden and his escort had Finally the fellow travelers approached a quaint reached an impressive group of buildings, three in if ancient building. Plainly it was a hostelry of a number, which formed a quadrangle and which sort. McFadden peered at the dusty old sign seemed vaguely familiar in form. Suddenly from hanging over the door which stated "Ye Studente out of this group of buildings came screams, hide- Shoppe." Garibaldi and his companion entered, the ous and blood-curdling, followed by loud moans three men-at-arms remaining outside. and groans. "Ye gods," exclaimed McFadden, Garibaldi leaned back on his bench while the"What was that?" The Major-Domo looked un- Major-Domo ordered. Mayowulf brought forth comfortable but bravely replied: "Sir, ye would do foaming steins of beer (root) and ale (ginger). well not to ask, but since ye do, I will say. That is Finally the Major-Domo leaned across the great the Dread Inquisition, sometimes known as the Ex- oaken table and whispered, "Ye appear a scholard; amination. Long ago the Inquisitors gave up physi- have ye heard of how in the past, many centuries cal torture and today the torments of the Examina- ago in Venice there wast a certain hollow stone tion are purely mental." Under his breath he mur- lion, in which citizens were wont to drop names mured, "Would that the old days were here still." of others whom they accused of treasons, and
The Major-Domo hastily moved on, his guest which names were considered by a dread secret beside him, but after a few yards Garibaldi sud- tribunal, the accused, if found guilty, being exedenly halted and exclaimed, "Why, what a beauti- cuted in mysterious and hideous fashion? Ye have ful lake that is and how quaint is the bridge that is not heard of it? Well, tis true, and here, too, the spanning it! But tell me, what's on the other side?" custom prevails. See yon slitted box? 'Tis called The face of the guide drained of all color and in a humorously, 'Ye Ratte Trappe,' but the unfortufrightful croak he whispered, "Odds-Odds Bod- nate whose cognomen is placed therein, ah, his kins, but thou dost jump upon the most ill-omened doom is even quicker and more horrid than that queries, oh, man from the outlands. Again, how- of Venice in the old bad days-it is called 'hydeever, if thou needs must know, I will tell thee. tannen.' "
Across yon bridge lie the domains of our most A fanfare of trumpets cut through the air, interdreaded enemies, the Amazons of Vestampton- rupting the whispering Major-Domo. Again and Kollitch. Truly, they be a blood-thirsty band of again the screaming fanfare came. "Come," exwarrioresses, and many of our brave men have claimed the guide, "ye have rare good fortune. The fallen before their might. But come ye, for time's Prince rides today!" a-wasting."
Emerging from the dim interior of the inn into
With that, McFadden and his companion passed the bright sunlight, McFadden blinked and saw on. "Yon building on the le£t be the domicile of hurrying past him dozens of individuals, their ye two town criers of the Princedom," the Major- faces lighted up in anticipatio_n. The racing throngs Domo commented. "One is y-cleped the 'Kol- excited Garibaldi, and he found himself running, legians' crier, the other is named 'Ye Messenger.' too, finally to be stopped by a large eager crowd Their rivalry for public acclaim is interesting and surrounding a building, presumably the Prince's amusing." "Oh, ah," replied G. McFadden va- palace. cantly.
A muffle of drums! A fanfare of trumpets!
Suddenly his vacant eyes lighted. "What goes on Hautboys and torches! the procession had begun.
[ 17 J
Elderly person after elderly person emerged in solemn march from the great gateway of the palace, all dressed in long black robes. Garibaldi gaped in astonishment. Suddenly a page came forth and announced in a loud voice, "His most Excellent, His most Puissant, His most Royal, His most High and Mighty Highness, Raymond , Prince and Lord of Ritchmonn-Kollitch !"
And a truly inspiring figure he was; mounted on a great Arab stallion, he was garbed in crimson satin with azure trimmings , topped with a long ermine cape, thrown back at the shoulders. McFadden, dazed, wondered vaguely where he had seen that smiling benevolent face and those twinkling eyes. Pondering this diligently, he nevertheless noticed that Prince Raymond was distributing largess by the fistful to the crowd. The gold coins were wildly fought over by the mob, those marked with a large A, B, or C being the most sought after , and many of the crowd securing only those marked with a D , an E, or an F
Suddenly yells were heard from the distan ce and Garibaldi distinguished the repeated words, "The Amazons , the Amazons! They ' ve crossed the bridge! To arms!" The mob dispersed in panic ,
people running in every direction Garibaldi found himself running he knew not where, until, to his horror, he realized he was running toward, instead of away from the bridge. But it was too late. The last of the fleeing men dashed past him in the opposite direction, and he caught the glint of sunlight upon armor.
There they came. Tall girls, short girls, thin girls, fat girls, blonde girls , brunette girls, all of them in armor , brandishing spears and shrilly screaming their battle cry. Garibaldi was paralyzed with fear. He stretched his hands in front of him ineffectually , and the last sound which pushed into his brain was the clanging of the spears and the clamor of the voices of the Vestampton Ama zons. His last visual experience was that of a slight blonde clutching at his throat with lust in her blue eyes and noises in her fair throat. . ..
Garibaldi McFadden awoke , clutching at hi s bright flannel shirt , and gasped w ith incredulity His fraternity pin was gone!
And though Garibaldi knew it not , in Westhampton at that moment a slight blonde was wearing three dimples and one new fraternity pin
Your hands in shadow breathe a silent prayer; Cathedral as a candle are your eyesyou walk upon a high and secret stair With hope your star, a light that never dies. Call me heretical , in truth, you may; I know my heart ' s avowed mortality; Surely , I blaspheme Beauty every day, Deny her supplications, wilfully. But you, the faithful , grudge me not this due: A cherished worship of a thing divine , The way you spoke-of all the words I knew The most beloved, for they were most mine Such understanding I had never known Save in communion with your soul, alone.
NANCY MASTERS , ' 44. [ 18)
The Eagl es Gather. By Taylor Caldwell. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1941.
Reviewed by Ilse Schott , ' 43
Did "The Little Foxes" fascinate you? If so, take up and read Th e Eagl es G ather, by Taylor Caldwell , alias Mrs. J. M. Reback. Just like the movie it will make you shiver secretly at human abjectness; you will be just as strongly repulsed by the picture of base craving for power and yet you cannot help but be attracted by the excellent technique
The Eagles G ath er is the story of the Bouchard dynasty of arms manufacturers Jules Bouchard , the head of the company, dies . Immediately his sons and nephews begin a fierce and relentless struggle among themselves for control of the company just like eagles fight for a body They divide into two factions headed by Armand and Christopher respectively. Suddenly cousin Henri r e turns from abroad with a considerable amount o f money which each faction covets for the enla rgement of its own power. Armand offers his dau g hter , Annette , as a bait to Henri along with a sh are in the stock of the Bouchard company. But Henri prefers an engagement to Celeste , Christopher's sister , plus shares in a new company that Christopher has established under a false name. " Christ" thinks he has Henri tied securely to his own mean ends , until Celeste breaks her engagem ent and Henri produces patents that may be the ru in of Christopher's brand-new plant. He has l ost the prey, and to Henri he has to cede his sh ares of Bouchard stock and his place as the most astute and most ruthless scavenger Characteri zations in the book involve subtle p sychology . Christopher "that venomous silver snake never forgot the slightest affront. The pettiest revenge gave him a sense of relief and satisfaction." Armand "hated Christopher and Francis more than he ever had, or would, hate any other men." Emile "admitted frankly he loved to look at money." Jean "spokb deprecatingly , patiently, humorously, or frankly, as circumstances dictated."
Egotism is personified not once but eight times. It takes a strong weight on the other side of the scales to keep the balance So we find that Caldwell's two honorable characters are as immaculate as fresh snow There is Celeste who has innocence, "that quality that recognizes the existence of evil in the world but belieVf'" ~~~ongly that the good will prevail in the end. " Celeste's cousin , Peter, is the "disgrace" of the family because he enlisted in the army in the World War and came home with ideas of social justice that he puts down in a book. These two white angels finally fall in love with each other.
Which are the qualities that make you go on reading the book even though you may not like it? There is the ruthless struggle between the members of the family; there is the love story of Celeste who, being brought up in seclusion first falls for Henri's strong manliness , then meets Peter and is naturally drawn to his kindred personality; last not least there are the political theories the author advances that make you feel that you want to get up and fervently debate her. Accordin g to Caldwell the big armament companies of all the nations are connected with one ahother, sell patents a m ong themselves even while their people are at war, they control the world's newspapers and write war propaganda to make their business thrive , and Hitler was set up in Germany by the English arms manufacturers in order to create a market for their goods by making Germany militaristic.
You close the book and say emphatically , "That isn ' t so!"
Mr. G eorge' s J oint. By Eli zabeth Lee Wheaton. New York: E P. Dutton and Co., 1941. 375 pp. Review ed by St raugh an G et t i er, ' 4 2
A series of character studies in ebony, this novel pulses to the jive of the nickelodian in Mr. George ' s joint. Clashes of naked temperaments , ribald revelery , and undercurrents of diverse passions are the beads of circumstances that are strung on the thread of the storv's slight plot. For those [ 19]
who wonder what goes on behind the boisterous street life of the little African as that are the dark borders of Southern cities, here is a realistic treatment of emotions, lingo, and relative moral anarchy that obtain behind the "color line." Considering the subject matter and tone of this book the language is surprisingly chaste, and delicate readers may proceed to read without fear or misgivings. Its particular focus is the typical cheap pleasure-palace which provides for hearty dancing, mild intoxicants, and back-room gambling.
We first make George's acquaintance as he stands before a judge in court for beating his wife. His much battered spouse is there also, and in spite of her distorted countenance she lies on behalf of her husband. There being no witness to the deed, George is released but the police inform him that he must move on to another town. He was in no wise a stranger in the jail house. So he and his recently maligned but ever-clinging Annie take the next bus out of town and surprise her mother with a visit. Work-hating George is resourceful to the extent of earning enough to make himself a joint
proprietor again-which was his business before his latest arrest. Yet, even in his new location "de laws" continue to hover in the background of his enterprise and not infrequently intrude upon it.
As George and Annie wax affluent some of their "kinry" begin to move in on them giving rise to not-unexciting domestic complications. Having gathered a sizable household about himself and developed his business somewhat, George begins to take his ease and his business starts on a decline. Meanwhile, in the upstairs room, behind the door with the peephole, the bucks continue to shoot craps and play poker as he and his confederates continue to fleece them.
It is not punning to say that Miss Wheaton ha s colorfully treated a picturesque people in an urban locale. An enlightening yet humorous and exciting experience awaits him who cares to "step outn his collah" to meet the joint's hostesses, its patrons , would-be-young-again grandpa Hall, and hear George cover up the knifings and police raids by feeding the music-monster a slug and magnamimously inviting "evahbody dance."
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This year THE MESSENGERChristmas packet has several gift cards with new names on them. Ninita Gonzalez excellent Westhampton College Government president contributes an appropriate article that should not be overlooked both for the material within and the skill in expression. A Scot dialect and a knack for story telling have been molded by Georgie Simpson into an easily flowing story. It is her first contribution but we sincerely hope not her last. Ilse Schott with precise unusual style reports on The Eagles Gather. . . . Froshermannen Hugo Leaming pokes good fun in a gay mood at his new alma mater .... Lucy McDonough does not forsake us or her many other duties and builds a story deserving of the first place in the fiction contest. . . .
The real Christmas finds expression in the poem of Ann Byrd Tucker, no longer a newcomer to the magazine. . . . It is not difficult to see by Mark Willing's article that he spends much time in the air-usually before breakfast. Nanc y Master's poetry is a familiar asset to THE MESSENGER Lila Wicker campus representativ e to several nationally published magazines add s another manuscript to many already published in past years. The thought is timely and significant. ... Straughan Gettier's interest has not slackene d as his book review testifies. Once more Ben Rouzie' s humor comes to the rescue again in parody form. We must not forget the tru e Christmas message especially today. Billy Snow finds in it intrinsic worth for today.
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With MAUREEN O'HARA it's Chesterfield for Christmas She is appearing in the 20th Century-Fox Production "HOW GREEN WAS MY VALLEY"
Here are your Milder Better-Tasting Chesterfields again ... in the most attractive, up-to-theminute Christmas gift package of the year. Buy them for the folks at home s end them to your fri e nds and don't forget to mail them to the boys in th e Servi c e.
