He holds the world ' s record for Class C Outboard Motorboats57 325 miles per hour for 5 miles! 1947 winner of the famous Albanyto-New York Outboard Marathon.
" In 12 years of outboard racing, I've found that 'experience is the best teacher,'" says Vic Scott. "And that's true in choosing a cigarette, too. Through the years, I've tried many brands. I've compared themfor mildness, for cool smoking, for flavor. I learned from experience that Camels suit me to a 'T'!''
f A LL OVER America, more people are fl. smoking Camels than ever before. Millions of smokers have found by experience that Camels suit them to a "T."
Try Camels yourself. Compare them -for mildness, coolness; for full, rich flavor. Let your "T-Zone" -that's T for Taste and T for Throat-tell you why Camels are the " choice of experience."
According to a Nationwide survey:
I TRIED MANYDIFFEREN T BRANDS-CAMELS ARE THE CHOICE OF EXPERIENCE WITHME!
Editor -in-C hief PAT VELENOVSKY
Westhampton College Edi/or PEGGY HARRIS
Ltlw School Editor ALBERT RussINOFF
Acting Richmond Coll ege Editor FRANK WENTZEL
Art Editor ... SETH DARROW , Asst. IPeslhampton College Editor, DOROTHY TooLE
Poetry Editor . MIMI THALENBERG
Features '. . . KENNY BUTLER, JOYCE PARRISH
Musings
]F
OR almost a year now our printer has p u t up with the material we take down to him, but finally, he has waxed enthusiastic. He thinks that Nelson Weber's contribution to this issue is just about the best thing printed in the MESSENGER this year. We think you will agree with him after you have read it.
0. C. Thacker, Jr.,a tall young man who is in his second year at T. C. Williams, is very much interested in dogs and the problems that go along with them. If you have ever been snarled, sneered, or snatched at by a member of the canine species, you should find In The Legal Doghouse made for you.
If you are the type who believes that the girls in Puerto Rico wear sarongs, or if you want the lowdown on the wooden shoe situation in Holland, or if you are just naturally curious about the foreign students on our campus, just turn to page 2 of this issue. You never can tell, some day you might want to know something about courting Puerto Rican style.
We have lots of pictures this month for those of you who don't know how to read-Class Lass, Fashion Plates, Campus scenes. This is the first issue since the terrific response to our questionnaire. Some changes that were suggested by those twenty-five people have been incorporated. If you dop't like what we have done, the address is Box 126.-P. V.
Fiction WILMA LUM, WILBUR THOMAS Exchange
WALLY McGRAW
Art S!a/f ELLEN LARGENT, ANN WILEY
Editorial Sl aff . HANNAH BARLOW, WALT MAHON, ]IM PAYNE, ELIZABETH WEBB, DON WILSON, FLORA JEANNE ZBAR, BARBARA COVINGTON, LETITIA EARLL.
Publis hed in Octo ber. D ece mb e r, February, April and 1\Iay hy Un h ·ers ity of R·ichmond Publications, Incorpora~ed. Right is r ese rYe d to alter contributions to m eet pubhca· tion 1:equir ement s. All communications should be a_ddressed to THE MES SENGER Box 1~6 University of Richmond, Virginia · ' '
Member Virginia Intercollegiate Press Associ ation
Westhampton's Foreign Born
DID you know that they actually wear shoes in Puerto Rico? Judging from the questions as to how she stands to wear shoes all the time over here in our highly civilized country , Miss Ana Gonzalez says that some people (College students not excepted company we're afraid) seem to doubt it.
And did you know that the people in Puerto Rico do not go to the river to wash? Upon being interviewed, Miss Gonzalez (I suppose a lot of you call her Ana, but since she taught me Spanish I find it hard to do so) laughingly said, "I don't know why Americans have the idea that we do not have stores, and electric lights , and tables and chairs, and even bathtubs just as you do here. We even sleep in beds ( of all things)." "At first," Miss Gonzales went on, "I thought they were making fun of me by asking such questions, but now I know better." As I got up to leave she added, "Oh, and we don't wear sarongs. " (Sorry, boys)
After talking to Ana Gonzalez and Maria Portela , who was also born in Puerto Rico, I came to the conclusion that we are not the "hot," · fast , social nation that we think we are and would do well to bow to our neighbors. In Puerto Rico dances begin about 10 o'clock in the evening and last until 4 or 5 o'clock in the morning, the Tea Dances (Te Danzant) beginning at 5 o ' clock in the afternoon and lasting until about 10. And American boys are way behind time when it comes to using the most efficient method of courting their best girl. In Puerto Rico the boys hire an orchestra and bring it along in a truck to add to the atmosphere as they proceed with their serenading.
Even Venezuela is ahead of us in this social business for Doris Bermann , who hails from Venezuela , tells us, " Dances begin about 10 o'clock in the evening and last until 4 or 5, sometimes 6." " In fact ," she adds , " it is not at all unusual to carry your tennis racket to the dance and go straighL to the courts from there. "
"Social dancing was not accepted in China ," Eli zabeth Hsu says, "until recently when the American influence became so strong. Our social life consists more of teas, picnics , games , and such thin g s. ·· \Xl hen asked if chaperons were required everywhere they went after dark , Elizabeth said , " Decidedly not. That is just a mistaken idea.
In fact, Chinese girls are not as restricted as American girls. In China the Colleges have very few rules. They are just not necessary because great emphasis is placed on moral teachings in the High Schools."
Maria Portela also assures us that Spanish girl s do not have to be chaperoned everywhere they g o like they used to be in the olden days. She says, "It' s true that lots of times our mothers and fathers or older brothers go dancing with us, but this is because our parents like to dance too and we ar e proud and happy to have them go with us. An d our parents do not choose our future husbands fo r us. They merely advise just as American paren ts are prone to do ."
Genevieve Mulard, born in Paris, finds it stran ge that so many of the students in American Colleg es are married , which she attributes, of course, to th e fact that the American Government is helpin g i ts youth financially to complete their education an d provide for their families at the same time. She h as also observed that comparatively few Americ an girls are interested in studying law, whereas in Paris almost as many girls as boys study la w. Genevieve received her degree from the Law School of Paris in 1946, and applied for a Fello wship to study American law, receiving it in Augu st, 194 7. In the meantime, she studied Americ an literature and poetry at the Sorbonne. She entere d Westhampton College in October, 1947, takin g a class in American Writers and Contempor ary Writers merely because she is interested in lite rature, a class in Business Law at Richmond College and one in Private Corporations Law at th e Law School so that she may make comparisons between French and American Law. She will le ave the United States on July 20th to return to P aris, where she plans to practice law.
Do the people in Holland wear wooden sh oes? Sylvia "Kit" Vander Schalie says , "A few of the farmers in the little fishing villages wear wo o den shoes , but the great majority of the Dutch pe op le do not " And say, if you think we have it tou gh over here-that school is just one big "grind"-!' d advise your talking with Kit. What's that old saying that goes "If everyone would put their own little troubles in a pile " Kit ' s father was an engineer in the recent World ' s Fair in New York , and when the war broke out his family joined him , and [ 2 ]
us, over here, becoming naturalized citizens. Majoring in Bio!ogy, Kit also expects to do her Graduate work at the University of Richmond, and then plans to go into Research.
1t was interesting to learn how it happened that some of our "foreign born" came to Virginia to study. Ana Louisa Gonzalez, born in Ri6 Piedras, Puerto Rico, came to Virginia to study because she had read so much about it from American history. She is doing Graduate work in Spanish here, and hopes to use it in some branch of the Diplomatic Service in Latin America
Maria Portela, also from Puerto Rico , Arecibo, Puerto Ri-::o, came to Westhampton because her brother ( everyone remembers " Chico " Portela) did his pre-med work at Richmond College. He graduated last June ( a Phi Beta Kappa, by the way) and entered Medical College in September. Maria plans to became a Laboratory Technician and return with Chico to Puerto Rico, where they will help each other.
Pamela Burnside, born in Nassau , Bahamas, is British. Her mother was born in New York, where her grandmother still lives , and Pam has been coming to the States for visits every year since she w as one . She went to prep school in Staunton, at Stuart Hall, and spent her freshman year of college at Mary Baldwin , transferring to Westhampton as a Sophomore. Pam is majoring in Spanish, but doesn ' t know exactly what she will do with it. She may decide to go into one of the offices of the Pa n American Airways as an interpreter.
Doris Bermann, born in Olonouc, Czechoslovakia , came to Westhampton to study because the wife of the director of the American Culture
Center in Venezuela (Doris left Czechoslovakia two years after the German occupation, going first to Cuba and then to Venezuela to live) taught at Westhampton. When asked if she didn't have a hard time getting out of Czechoslovakia after the German occupation, she answered, "It would have been very difficult if my father's brother, who lives in New York, had not been able to obtain a visa for us." Doris is majoring in French.
And last, but a long way from least, little Elizabeth Hsu, born in Canton , China, who we have already introduced in a previous issue of THE MESSENGER,came to Westhampton to do pre-med work because her father, Professor and Head of the Department of Physics and Chemistry of the National Kunming Teachers College in South Kunming, graduated from Richmond College in 1922.
It would be hard to estimate just how much Westhampton, and the University as a whole, has been enriched by having had the opportunity to rub shoulders with such persons as Genevieve, Maria, Kit, Ana, Doris, Pam, and Elizabeth. We hope they have learned as much from us as we have from them, and that more like them will come so that everyone will profit from ~he deeper, reciprocal understanding which must inevitably result. We pray they speak kindly of us when they return to their respective countries. Perhaps they could even be helpful in fostering more days, or weeks, like Pan-American Week, weeks in which the whole nation unites in a conscious awareness that better relations between all countries means better living for all peoples.
-PEGGY HARRIS.
Out of the fire
Of man ' s dreams
Comes the smoke of his desire. Man ' s thoughts are kindled with passion, But only the heart of desire burns. The rest is deceitful smoke Which veils man's true identity.
-DOROTHYBECK.
The CopperKettle
jumped back to the small box which read:
T. HE main reading room of the New York · City Public Library was almost empty late in the afternoon the first Saturday in May. There were several old men reading newspapers, two young boys deeply engrossed in aviation magazines, and a woman in her forties diligently copying from a book into a small notebook. The only other occupant of the room was an attractive young girl in a gray suit and a jaunty beret, with a discouraged look on her fact, who sat thumbing through a magazine. If one took the time to notice her, one might wonder what a pretty young girl was doing in the Public Library on a beautiful spring day. Susan Johnson, the girl in question, was wondering the same thing.
"Well Susie," she said to herself, "here you are in New York, the city of your dreams. Ever since you were fifteen years old in Middletown you've dreamed of coming to New York, finding an exciting job, living in a luxurious penthouse, wearing chic clothes, meeting a handsome, dashing, rich Prince Charming, and going to all the fashionable places in the city. Well, you've been here four months now and what are you? A Nobodya $22.50 a week clerk-typist, living in a one-room walk-up, with three suits and two dresses to your name, knowing exactly one rather ugly $30.00 a week male clerk, and spending the most beautiful day of the year in the Public Library, reading the Saturday Review of Literature!" With that she cast a disgusted eye on the magazine but picked it up ,anyhow and began to study it casually. She opened it to the section on the last page called Personals, and her eyes skimmed over the ads-"Wanted Baby Sitters ", "Does anyone want a musician ... ", "To sell-an old valuable copper kettle. Contact Box 5l0x ... ", "Intelligent young man .", "Have you thought ... " Suddenly her eyes
Intelligent young man bored with life desires correspondence with young woman 20-25. Well versed in ancient literature, philosophy, psychology, and antiques. Contact Box 502x. She read it over and said to herself, "Susie, stop being ridiculous! Ads like that are for frustrated old maids! But he does say young woman 20-25 and I'm only 21. Oh how stupidly you're acting," she scolded herself. "But then again it might prove interesting," she protested, softening a little. "I don't know anything about ancient literature, philosophy, or psychology, but I do know something about antiques and I could read up on the others. Oh what the Devil!" she said aloud, and blushing slightly she took out a pencil and surreptitiously copied the address on the back of an envelope. Then she picked up her purse, straightened her hat, and with a look of determination on her face marched out of the library.
On her way to work Monday morning Susie dropped a neat blue envelope in the mail box with many misgivings. "Well, that's that," she exclaimed, and set out for her office.
Tuesday evening about six o'clock a tall lanky young man with red hair walked into the vestibule of an apartment building on West 49th Street and opened the mail box marked Daniel Franklfn Apt. 3A. He took out a neat blue envelope, walked up two flights of stairs, opened the door to apartment 3A, went in, threw his hat on the floor, sat down in an easy chair, propped his feet up on a huge copper kettle, and tore open the envelope.
Dear Box 5 lOx ( he read)
I read with much interest your advertisement in the May 3rd issue of the Saturday Review of Literature. I'm not sure if what I can offer you will be satisfactory, but nevertheless I am in hopes that we can find a "common meeting ground" so to speak.
I am very interested in antiques and am an amateur collector myself. I inherited this interest from my Mother who owns an Antique and Oddity Shop in Middletown, Vermont, and I pride myself on being sort of an expert on appraising old pieces as to both monetary and age value.
[ 4 ]
This letter is just to introduce myself. If you feel I am the type of person you advertised for I would like very much to hear from you.
Very truly yours,
SUSAN JOHNSON , 215 East 52nd Street , New York City.
" Well, I'll be damned! " said young Mr. Franklin, staring at the letter with an incredulous look. " That's the queerest answer to an ad I've ever seen. " He glanced sadly at the copper kettle under his feet and said fondly, "It's a shame to sell you to such an obvious nut. But it'll be a bigger shame if I don't get some money soon. So here goes."
The next day Susie opened her mail box and took out a letter addressed to her in a scrawled hand. "Hmm ," she said to herself a little smugly as she climbed the stairs. " That was a prompt a nswer-must be interested. " Over a tuna-fish salad and a cup of coffee Susan read the letter. She read it once, frowned, and read it again.
Dear Miss Johnson:
Thank you very much for your letter. I was glad to read of your knowledge of antiques, for I am certa ~n you will be very interested in my copper kettle. It is a lovely thing with a very interesting background , dating to Revolutionary days. It stands two feet, four and three quarters inches high; is exactly two feet in diameter; and is in excellent condition. It can be used for flowers, plants, or pure decoration.
I am sure with our common knowledge and appreciation we will be abl~ to reach a "common meeting ground, " as you said.
If you are interested in furthering the transaction , please let me know
Very truly yours ,
DANIEL FRANKLIN
" Well , that's queer ," said Susie as she skimmed the letter for a third time. " Sounds like an obvious n ut! " Doesn ' t say a thing about ancient literature , p hilosophy, or psychology-instead he tries to s~ll me a copper kettle. Well, if he wants to wnte about antiques , I'll write about antiques! !" When she had washed and dried the few dishes she went to a drawer and took out a box of blue stationery. Two days later Mr. Daniel Franklin opened his mail box and found another neat blue envelope.
Upon further investigation of this envelope he found the following:
Dear Mr. Franklin:
Thank you very much for your letter of May 6th. I found the description of your copper kettle very interesting. It must be a charming old piece. My interest lies especially in old pieces of Sandwich glass. You know , New England is famous for its Sandwich glass and my Mother has a collection of many beautiful old pieces. My favorite among them is an unusual blue rosebud vase. It is so odd because of its shape, very narrow on the top and round on the bottom, a type rarely found in old glass of this kind. Much has been written on Sandwich glass of New England, and if you are interested in the subject , I am sure the Public Library could furnish you with material.
I am looking forward to your next letter.
Very truly yours, SUSAN JOHNSON.
"Oh no!" cried Daniel Franklin, gazing mournfully at the copper kettle. He pushed his hat back on his head and said to himself, " she must be demented. I advertise to sell a simple copper kettle , and what do I get-a dissertation on Sandwich glass-not one word about buying the kettle. This has got to stop. " Without taking off his hat , he stomped to the desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and began to write vigorously .
Had Mr. Daniel Franklin looked in the apartment of Miss Susan Johnson about 7: 30 two evenings later , he would have been greeted by a strange sight. She was stomping around the room , her blue eyes blazing, and her brown hair flying. "How dare he! " she cried. "How dare he! How dare he! " She picked up the sheet of white paper to which her tantrum was directed and read in a sneering voice :
Dear Miss Johnson:
Thank you so much for your lovely letter. I am sorry I don't know much about Sandwich glass but it does sound like an interesting subject. However, I do feel it is time to get down to the purpose of this correspondence and talk over monetary matters You realize , of course, that the article about which I advertised is ·very valuable to me and worth quite
(Continued on page 20)
[ 5 J
A Visit With Saint Peter
HE must have been expecting me, for no sooner had I pulled the bell cord than he appeared behind the gate. He was a wizened old man, with long white hair and an even longer beard. His eyes were a penetrating blue, and there was a mischievous twinkle in them that spoke more of the devil than Saint Peter.
"You lookin' fer me, young fella?" he inquired. The chuckle that lurked in his throat lent his thin voice warmth and body.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"Yes, yes." He nodded his head as if he had suddenly remembered something. "M-r. Jordan, our heavenly messenger on earth, told me you was writin' a book, about life up here, ain't it? Well, well. Come in, son." He opened the massive golden gate which led into Heaven. "Set down, set down. Feel yerself on earth. Mind if I smoke?" He pulled out an old pipe, blackened with years of use, and settled himself comfortably in a nearby cloud. I perched nervously on the edge of the one opposite.
"What kin I do fer you, son?"
'T d like to know a little bit about the type of person you admit here."
"Well," he said, ''most o' the folks as live up here is children. Now, children ain't always as good as they ought to be. Some of 'em knows what's right, and some of 'em don't, but leastways those that knows what's right and still does bad don't try to hide their badness. The older folks get, the more they tries to hide. Course there's exceptions. Earth's full of exceptions.
" 'N I'll tell you somethin' that'll maybe shock you, son. Powerful lot o' folks as go to church ev' ry Sunday never gits a sight o' Heaven, and a powerful lot o' folks as never goes, gits in here easy as pie. All depends on how you live, not how you'd like to have others think you live."
After he'd spoken just a few words, I began to feel at ease. There was nothing awesome about his
saintliness. I smiled to watch him puffing on his old pipe; he reminded me of no one so much as he did of my grandfather.
I commented on the fact that he was not wearing his halo.
"A halo is a mighty big burden to carry around with you, son," he said, and at that moment I detected a note of sadness in his voice. What a tremendous responsibility he has! In his hands lies the eternal happiness of every human being on earth.
I asked him what standard of measurement was used to j~dge whether or not a person was suitable angel material. "Surely," I said, "no matter what criterion is used, some deserving individual is liable to be found lacking in that quality?"
He sighed, and his whole body looked weary and sorrowful.
"There ain't no standard, son. We can't do nothin' but judge each man ' cordin' to his own merits."
And then the twinkle came back into his eyes.
' TU tell you, though. Never did take much stock o' politicians."
After a moment, he added thoughtfully, "We do have a powerful lot o' poets, artists, and authors up here-the good ones that is. Them that's so near to Heaven whilst they's livin' that they ain't never really on earth."
I asked him if he had ever made any mistakes , if he had ever admitted anyone who had proven to be more bad than good.
"Well," he said, "some o' the folks up here is a mite troublesome, but so long as they' s just mischievous and not mean, we don't deport 'em." He took a deep puff on his pipe. "You know, son, too much goodness gets dull. We like excitement up here 's well as you do down on earth."
"After all, we're only human."
-EUGENIE w AGNER. [6]
t(In 'TheLegal C-Ooghouse"
DURING these beautiful, energy-taking Spring days we begin to think of vacation and of discarding the books which have kept us chained to the scholastic grindstone. Looking out the window over the spacious campus of the Law School, I see a large mongrel of doubtful parentage busily engaged in satisfying his hunger with a large beef bone. How of ten this occurrence has taken place on our campus ( a 50x50 grass plot). The old red brick building would not look natural if one of these Dinosauric delicacies was not on the lawn.
Getting back to our brown-faced creature, his being on private property raises a very important phase of the law-namely, trespass committed by such animal on another's property. The old saying, "Dog is man's best friend" is very doubtful after reading a few cases of their untimely misdoings. In various cases throughout this country many comical and serious incidents occur which are the result of dog-antics. Usually, in all cases the person charged with liability for such canine-istics is, of course, the ever-faithful owner, who always defends by a simple statement, such as, "Spitfire never bit anyone before" or "You shouldn't have put your hand in his mouth!" As dogs have well proven their worth, we as civilized beings must provide for them and hence much dog law has grown up defining what constitutes a legal dog and just what conduct he can engage in, as such, in order to stay in circulation. First we find the amazing statement in tlie law that a dog is an "animal"; then the poor thing is classified as either wild or domesticated. Assuming that all dogs are domesticated, they then come under still another classification, that of personal property. It's not easy for many of us to think of our beloved pets in terms of property since they act almost human, but whenever a legal situation arises over them most of us would call Rex or Pete most anything to protect his rights and liability. Because the average pooch depends on all four legs to navigate, he mu5t rely on his mouth and teeth to perform the normal everyday activities found in the dog world. Here is where all the trouble and confusion in the law begins. Those sharp teeth can cause more harm and injury to a person than being hit by a ten-ton streetcar at
thirty m. p.h. In the country there are the merciless sheepkillers and gamesnatchers, while city mutts seem to specialize in preventing burglars and mailmen from entering the home.
Confining the problem to attacks on humans we see one phase of the law where great doubt lies. Should the owner of the dog be liable for the dog's misdoings or is it better to let the person who receives the attack suffer his own loss? What man has not been confronted with the threatening growl of a dog? It is a common everyday experience, yet the problems .it presents become very serious if overlooked. On the legal side the law has accomplished a great deal towards answering the problems presented by leaving behind many cases which have established precedent for the decision of each case.
Looking into a few cases; in California a woman walking to work came up behind a Great Dane being led by a small boy she knew. The woman spoke to the boy and the surprised 120-pound pooch turned, brushed against the woman and knocked her down, causing serious injuries. This woman merely said "hello" to the little boy and as an apology the boy said to the woman, 'Tm so sorry that Mark ( the dog) knocked you over. He has a habit of leaning against people." The court held this incident to be an "unavoidable accident" and the owner was freed of liability by virtue of a technical legal point. This woman had gone through much suffering both physical and financial and she was allowed no redress or compensation for this occurrence. The owner could not be held liable for the act of the dog and of course the dog could not redress her. This is the price paid for our pets.
Many cases are found where people come onto another's property to transact simple business and end up with complicated injuries caused by "friendly" watchdogs. In another California case a woman angrily called on a neighbor to ascertain whether the neighbor's child had tortured hers. While she was ringing the doorbell the king size Bulldog kept by the neighbor sprang at the woman, knocked her down, and sank his incisors in her hand, holding it firmly till aid arrived. Recovery was allowed for injuries on the theory that the woman was an "invitee" on the premises [ 7}
(The fact that a doorbell was present was an open invitation to the general public to come on the premises.) This is a case of justice, but yet the dog owner had nothing to do with the sudden viciousness of the apparently protective canine. Dogs, like police, have a hard time telling the difference between such angry persons and housebreakers under similar circumstances.
In a Kentucky case, a man making delivery of a check to his employer's landlord for rent due, was severely bitten by a German Police dog which was hooked to a ten-foot chain. The dog made thirty distinct bites on the man and took a couple chunks from his legs. The dog was known to be very vicious, but not a sign was seen on the premises warning of such danger. The deliveryman, instead of going to the front door, tried the back and there met the 'man-eater.' The deliveryman received damages. Should the owner be held liable? The front door bell was in good order. Certainly all that could be done was attempted. The dog was chained in the back yard and not on public property. Is the back-yard gate an invitation to come in on one's property? This dog was friendly to numerous persons but still was very vicious to others. Is there any crime in keeping such an animal as a watchdog? Certainly not, but rt is a crime to trespass as the plaintiff did.
Should we require every dog owner in addition to purchasing a license also to hold liability insurance to help solve this problem? Since this liability insurance method apparently works with automobile collisions, then why not give it a try in these dog-bite cases? We will always have dogs, and humans as well, but if this factor is not more closely regulated there is no hope of preventing mad dogs from causing much worry and restriction on all dogs in general. The qld muzzle ordinance is very effective but quite cruel to the animal. Imagine a city ordinance requiring all dogs to be muzzled before they can travel the public ways. How can a dog say be is thirsty? You can't drink water through such a yawnmuffier. On the other hand, a toothless dog is practically harmless. But then, our dogs wouldn't be able to enjoy their favorite pastime of gnawing on bones. Consequently our school lawn would be clean and there would be no legal problem a law student could study.
Other problems of similar nature have been clearly defined by decisions such as the fact that a
vicious dog may be lawfully done away with but a dog which merely trespasses upon property (like the mongrol on school property) must be ejected in a way so the least amount of force is used. Merely because a dog is not licensed does not mean he is vicious if someone is attacked. If one harbors a vicious dog knowingly, it is a criminal act in some states. Viciousness of a dog must be shown not by the mere biting of one person in the past but by showing a series of such acts. In short, "a dog is entitled to his first bite." This is not an entirely true maxim but most courts would not say a dog is vicious because he has taken one bite in the past Legally, though, there is a great field open in the study of animals and cases involving them, especially dogs. A man will die for his dog at times, and what dog wouldn't do the same for his master. In order better to enforce and protect these animals a large organization is needed, and special court s where experts trained to understand the actions of these irrational beings can see that justice is rendered. In the meantime where no great legal problem is interposed and until such an organization can be founded we must rely on the localities and states to provide succor for the "Cocker" by legislation.
0. C. THACKER, JR.
Fashion Plates
The photographer caught Natalie "Tasha" McKissick and Jim Phipps as they started out for a walk to show off the latest in Spring clothes . "Tasha" is wearing a creation straight from Godey's "Lady's Book" ... brief jacket with tiny waist, soft shoulders, tiny petal collar ... the full , belled-out skirt adds the final touch. The color i s navy. The hat is a small thing of gray stra w ( cloche, they call it) swathed in navy taffeta wit h a big bow on the right side. White shortie glove s and the small "clutch" bag of navy faille complet e her outfit. J~m has on an all-wool Shetland, 3-button, split back sport coat in muted tones of blue and gray plaid. Gray flannel trousers, white buckskin shoes, and the favorite black knit tie make for a smooth combination. Black ribbed socks add to the smoothness of the outfit.
Clothes courtesy of Miller and Rhoads.
[ 8 J
R Sort Of Fish Story
(The scene is late at night in the busy newsroom of a local radio station. For some several minutes past, the manager has been talking earnestly to a rathe; faded but sincere man dressed in wrinkled bluejeans, gray workingman's shirt, rough shoes, and who clutches nervously in his horny hands a battered slouch hat stuck over, here and there, with a variety of fishhooks. Suddenly , as having made a decision, the man_ager rises, signals sharpl_1 th1'ough the glass to the announcer, guides his visito1' to the microphone in the studio, glances briefly at his watch, points to the control man who quickly turns several dials on the board, and then 11odsabruptly to the announcer .. .)
ANNCR: (Speaking with strained excitation) \V-e interrupt MUSICAL REVERIES, Ladies and Gentlemen, to bring you a late news item . . . a fisherman was reported lost in the James River late this afternoon. He, with a companion, set out early this morning and, at about eleven AM, according to his friend, met with a most amazing accident-if you can call it an accident. Tonight, we're fortunate in having, in the studio with us, the gentleman who was with him on this ill-fated trip. For the details of what we consider one of the most unusual tragedies of the year, here's Mr. Oswald Gofetchus, the other fisherman, who, in a damaged and water-logged rowboat, was just able to make the shore safely. Isn't that right, Mr. Gofetchus?
GoFET: Yep ... that's right ... Boat was most filled with water ... .
ANNCR: Suppose, Mr. Gofetchus, that you tell us what happened . . . just as it happened this mornmg.
GoFET: Well, Sir O.K. ... there we was, settin' in that there rowboat me doin' the row in' ... and we'd got us out beyond the rocks, down thar by the deep water, and George he's the one, rest his soul. (Here, he sniffles a a little and wipes the back of his hand across his nose.)
ANNCR: Yes ... yes ... go on.
GoFET: Well ... he was leanin' back, smokin ' his pipe and not doin' nothin', so I sez, "George, why don't yuh bait the hooks?" 'Cause, y'see, that way we wouldn't have to waste no time er nuthin' ... but if I'd a kn owed what was goin' t' happen I sure woulda' let him finish that pipe, pore fella ....
ANNCR: (His voice is sympathetic) I'm sure we all understand.
GoFET: Well . . he looks up and he sez, "Shucks, Ozzie I didn't come out here t' do no fishin'. I hate fish," sez he. "Why I wouldn't give two cents a pound for all the fish in Chesterfield County," he sez, and so I sez, "Why George, I thought we come out here to do some fishin'," and he, he leans back with his head hangin' out over the back of the boat, real lazy-like, and he sez, "You, Ozzie"-that's me-"YOU c'n fish all you wan ta, but ME? . . I come out here t' get away from the little woman. Thar's no place like the river for gettin' away from that raging' spitfire. Now," he sez, "how about rowin' away from that there bridge? ... she might get up tbar and yell at us .... "
ANNCR: And did you row away from the b(idge?
GOFET: Well, Sir not at fust becuz I tole George that wuz the best place t' fish, see? But he gets mad and he sez, "Fish, fish, fish! Next t'wimmin, fish are the no-countinest critters in creation they had t'have somethin' t'fill up the water with so they invented fish; and they had t'have somethin' t' get a man in HOT WATER with so they invented wimmin." That's accordin' t'George ... not me!
AN NCR: You feel differently about it?
GoFET: Well ... my wife ... she's prob'ly listenin' in ....
ANNCR: Oh ... Well-Then what happened?
GoFET: Well ... George, he raved on about fish ... said they wuz either half tail with the rest of 'em head, or else half head with the rest of 'em tail, and the other part wuz all fulla bones. Then he got t' talkin' about wimmin and he said as how they wuz 90 per cent tongue and ten per cent muscle t'wag it with-and he said if they wuzn 't dressin' themselves up they wuz dressin' some pore man down . and, oh, he went on about 'em somethin' awful fer quite a spell. Fin'ly, he sez, "It's sure a blessin' that wimmin and fish don 't come combined, becuz of all the sorry things, them two is the worst." And right then it happened!
ANNCR: (Tensely) What happened right then , Mr. Gofetchus?
GoFET: Well, Sir y' d never believe it, but up outta the water-and right here in our own
[ 10]
James River, too- -up comes a pair o' slim white arms, and they grabs George around the neck, and -P'ssst-thar goes his pipe, and-Plop-thar goes his hat, and then SPLASH-thar goes George, with his legs kickin' up in the air. He lets out a yelp er two but ... less'n a minute thar ain't nuthin' left t'George but his hat and two, three bubbles
ANNCR: Great Heavens! But what about those arms? Who did they belong to?
GoFFET: Well thar, Mr. Announcer, is where you got me. Fust off, I figgered they wuz one o' them bathin' gals, but it couldn'ta bin that becuz she didn't have no ....
ANNCR: (Eagerly) No what, Mr. Gofetchus?
GoFET: No bathin' cap like they wear ... jest long hair, all wet . but mighty purty-lookin' for all it wuz green-colored. Oh, she wuz a downright cute lookin' lady in spite o' them fins and_. scales
ANNCR: Fins and scales ... ?
GOFET: Yessir when she done a flip-flop and took pore George down ... no legs! Jest one o' the gol-dangdest flippers you ever see. I tell ya .. it took my breath away!
ANNCR: Mr. Gofetchus, we all sympathize with you in the loss of your friend, and thank you kindly for coming here tonight to tell us this incredible story
(In a mote businesslike tone)
Ladies and Gentlemen, you have just heard the first eyewitness account of one of the most amazing incidents to be recorded in the history of this locality. For the benefit of the popular curiosity in this astounding case, and in the interest of science, this station is extending its every facility to bring you the complete story of what is now being spoken of in Richmond as the "Mermaid Case." While this station can, of course, take no part in the controversy now raging over whether it actually was a mermaid who snatched the young fisherman, George Zookalook, from his boat in the James River today, it is certain that some strange ichthyological specimen has visited our local waters, and is even now, perhaps, inviting fresh te rrors to the innocent citizens of our community. . .. We take you now, by remote control, to the home of the victim of today's tragedy, where we hope to be able to interview the dearly beloved and devoted wife of Mr. George Zookalook .... (There ate several clicks, a pause, and then, slowly
nsmg to a distinguishable sound, a murmur of consoling voices interspersed with sobs, sniffies, moans, groans and a couple of weeps. The announcer is in the house, setting up his microphone with all the careful quietness of an un-dertaker arranging lilies. Finally, all is in readiness; he silently approaches the anguished Mrs. Zookalook -fat, forty-five and dripping tears like a sprung spigot-touches her lightly on the shoulder and invites her with a gesture to the microphone. The others of the group become even more hushed. In a voice at once warm, solemn and sympathetic. the announcer speaks. .)
ANN CR: Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen-I am speaking to you from the living room of the home of Mrs. George Zookalook, the griefstricken wife of the fisherman who today, in the prime of his life, was suddenly taken from the arms of his loved ones by what is rumored to have been a mermaid in the James River. Gathered here tonight, in sympathy and sorrow for the bereavement of Mrs. Zookalook, are many friends and neighbors. In a few moments we hope to have Mrs. Zookalook up here at our microphone to tell what she can of her late husband, and to fill in the details of this monstrous occurrence that has marred the tranquility of Richmond's hitherto · unblemished history. One moment, please. . . . And now, Mrs. Zookalook ....
MRS. Z: ( A prolonged sob, which trails off intv a blubber.)
ANNCR: You are the wife of George Zookalook, are you not?
MRS. Z: (The blubber rises into a mature sob, and slow.s down again.)
ANNCR: How long had you aad George been married?
MRS. Z: ( A series of very loud sobs.)
ANNCR: He was a devoted and loving husband, wasn't he?
MRS. Z: ( More sobs, long, loud and wet.)
ANNCR: Tell us, please, what you can of his background, his life.
MRS. Z: ( An inspired spiral of fresh sobs.)
ANNCR: Tell me, Mrs. Zookalook, the entire city is anxious to know, do you actually believe that George was taken by a mermaid this morning?
MRS. Z: (New sobs, and then-shouting) The rat! He was always chasing another woman!
ANNCR: We know, Mrs. Zookalook, how [ 11 }
deeply and devotedly you loved your husband, and we respect your right to your quiet sorrow for his tragic demise. Is there any other information you'd like to add to what you've already given us?
MRS. Z: (Loud 1 hysterical sobbing.)
ANNCR: Thank you very much, Mrs. Zookalook. We are sure your calm courage and bravery in the face of this great loss will be an example to our listening audience. (The weeping now fades as Mrs. Zookalook resumes her place among the clot of softly soothinu neighbors. In a slightly brisker tone the announce~· continues to speak.)
ANNCR: And now, Ladies and Gentlemen through the facilities of this station, we take yo~ to the Fourteenth Street Dock in Richmond where we ~ill have an on-the-spot account of the proceedings at the scene of this morning ' s tragic occurrence. Take it away, 14th Street Dock ... (pause) ... Take it away, 14th Street Dock. (In a brisk 1 matter-of-fact , rapid , reportorial ton e the third announcer comes bustling on the air.)
ANNCR: Good evening, everyone. This is Howard Btooks broadcasting to you from the 14th St. Dock directly opposite the point in the James River where, according to eyewitnesses, a young fisherman, George Zookalook, was snatched from his rowboat by a pair of feminine arms reported to have been those of a mermaid. Here about me is a scene of great activity ... the dark river in front of us here is dotted with the numerous small craft of cooperative citizens searching for the body. The Coast Guard is on hand-you can hear the voices of the working guardsmen off here in the background-and several giant PBY's are standing by, ready to go to work at dawn, should there be no developments before then. The fire department has sent several engines, among them is their largest Hook-and-Ladder which, of course, can work ... ah ... down as well as ... up! Uh .. . among the many persons and distinguished visitors on the dock with us this evening are various gentlemen from our country ' s eminent scientific societies. Ri~ht over here on my left we have Mr. Adolph Wrngwanger, Chief Curator of the Fluvanna County Oceanographic Institute and, a little beyond him, peering intently into the water and combing his goatee, is Doctor Humphrey Dusseldorf, head of the Deep Sea and Small Puddle Marine Research Division of the Tidewater Academy of Retrogressed Sciences. Numerous other
gentlemen of the technical and scientific world are here, either as observers, or to lend expert advice to the proceedings. And now (Rising Infiection ) ... uh ... yes, Yes! Here are several large van s drawing up .... It's it's the Marines, Ladie s and Gentlemen! Evidently a call has gone out to the Military District for aid and, as usual, th e Marines, ever ready and alert, are among the first to respond. They're forming up on the dock now , preparing to do their bit. In the last several minutes, a great many cars have drawn up. We recognize Mr. Henry Zilch, proprietor of the Acme Pet and Fish Emporium, who has come down to be th e first to bid on the mermaid, should she be caugh t. In a new group which has just now entered th e dock is Mrs. George Zookalook, the wife of th e departed fisherman of this morning's accident. And now, for a change of scene, we are going to ,trans£er you to a rowboat in mid-stream of th e James where our announcer has positioned hi mself directly over the spot at which George Zook alook, earlier this morning, was pulled bodily from his rowboat by a mermaid. One mome nt please.
(Several clicks and a pause , and then contact is established with a portable · remote control u nit. Amid the sounds of the soft lap of wavelets , the touch of oars in their locks and the remote river sounds of motOf boats and a chugging st eam dredge, the announcer speaks.)
ANNCR: We're speaking to you now from a spot directly over the area where George Zoo kalook was plunged into the deep by what has been reported to be a mermaid. In the boat here with me is Mr. Oswald Go£etchus, the fisherman who was with Mr. Zookalook at the time of his disappearance, two staff technicians, and my girl frie nd who ... has ... come along ... just ... for the . . . ride! Ladies and Gentlemen, there's been a remarkable development. It is now felt by the authorities that George Zookalook did not die/ Yes, that's right! As you can plainly hear in the distance, there are dredges at work, scouring the river bottom for the body of the mi: sing man. T he search so far has been fruitless, but a little while ago, one of the several large drag-hooks, upon being extracted from the water, was found to h ave a note impaled on one of its barbs. I have that n ote here in my hands now, it's written in ink, evidently with one of those new submarine pens, and it reads: "WHY ... DON'T ... YOU ... GUYS [ 12 )
... GO ... HOME? YOU ... BOTHER ... US!" and it's signed, "GEO R GE." Now, this may be a hoax, Ladies and Gentlemen, but in an effort to leave no single drop of water unturned, so to speak, we are preparing to lower a microphone and a small, waterproof, portable radio into the depths of the James River. By this means, we will have set up a two-way communication with the river bottom, and now, while we technical people get on with our technical work, we switch you back to the 14th Street Dock.
( After a momentary pause there is once again heard the bustle, the subdued clank , rattle and throb of the numerous busy people on the dock. Over it all there comes the crisp, businesslike voice of the rapid-fire announcer ... )
ANNCR: Thank you, Harry. This is the 14th Street Dock again, and we are all prepared to pick up anything which may come from the river bottom, with our receptors here. If there actually is a mermaid, we should certainly know about it soon. Mrs. Zookalo ok, here at my side, has stopped crying for the moment, and is keenly interested in the proceedings The Reverend Mister Fobledecker, the pastor of George Zookalook ' s church, is close by, ready to urge George to give up the mermaid and to come out of the water, if and . when he is heard from. The Attorney-General of Cherrystone County Courthouse is here to render any legal opinions, should there be the need for some Others on the Dock are breathlessly awaiting some news from the river bottom There is a profound air of anticipation. Within the next few moments, Ladies and Gentlemen, there is no telling what historical and .... But now I see that everything is ready. We're going to try to make contact. Hello, bottom of the James! Hello, bottom of the James ... (pause) there seems to be no response. · .
(But sudd~nly there is a gurgle of bubbles. The crowd is electrified , an excited buzz rises and the announcer's voice reaches an almost hysterical yell.)
Wait a minute! Wait a minute! There's something! Yes-yes. Hello, George Zookalook. Hello, hello, is this George Zookalook ?"
( And in a gurgly , liquid voice-with a strong tone of irritation, as tho' an important matter had been rudely interrupted , the voice of George rises from the depths.)
GEORGE:Yeah, yeah Go away, will ya? Leave us alone!
MRS. Z: (Horrified and gasping.) Oh! He's down there! With a MERMAID! Oh-h-h! (In a voice as warm as a summer afternoon, as tender as an innocent young marshmallow, as light, as airy, as never-never as the wisp of a nebulous dream , and lubricated with the perfumed essential oils of seduction , the mermaid softly. softly.)
MERM'o: Come on, Georgie. Don ' t pay any attention to them. Kiss me some more .. . . (On the dock , two hundred men melt-visiblyT here is the sweet sound of a luscious kiss. A mass of bubbles rises.)
GEORGE:What was that sound?
MERM'o: Only steam , darling (Complainin gly.) Don't stop.
MRs. Z: Oh-h-h-h ! This is terrible! George ! This is your wife! Come up from there this instant ! Do you hear?
GEORGE: Not a chance, frog-face. Go home!
MRS. Z: George. You know you don ' t like fish. You never liked fish!
GEORGE:That was before. Now-I love ' em . (To the Mermaid) Especially you , darling.
MERM'o: (Coos) Oh, Georgie, you' re a porgie
MRS. Z: George! What are you doing down there?!
GEORGE:Making chowder , you old clam. Go home!
MRS. Z: (Furiously , shrieking) I'll chowder you, you shrimp! Just wait 'til I lay my hands on you! I'll ripple your tide, you river rat! If you think that hussy of a mermaid sank you, you've got another sink coming!
GEORGE: Look, Tugboat Annie I'm staying here and that's final, F-I-N-E-L, final!
(The mermaid croons, sweetly and soft, as though her lips were warm against one 's ear. Her mood is musical , rhapsodic , ecstatic.)
MERM'o: We'll roam the river and the ocean . And we will love with mad emotion. Ohhhhhhh , Georgie.
GEORGE:See what I mean? I may be all wet. but. ..
(During all this while, the entranced announce r has stood with open-mouthed astonishment. Suddenly, he recollects his job, seizes the microphone .)
ANNCR: George . George Zookalook. This is the radio announcer speaking. Look, we've got a coast-to-coast hookup broadcasting this thing. Millions of people are hearing for the first time tonight the voice of a mermaid George, put her [ 14}
on the microphone, will you? Put her on.
GEORGE: O.K., Buddy, but hurry it up, will ya? Here she is.
( Again-infinitely delicious-the melodious tones of the mermaid pour like sweet and golden honey into the souls of hungry men.)
MERM'o: People, people, everywhere, come with me without a care, Come with mermaids of the sea; oh, sweet the deep of mystery:
Shadowy depths of blue and gold, in silent halls of the coral's fold.
Spend in sportive times your day, with fish and porpoise for your play,
And in the night partake of kisses; the sea can tell you all what bliss is: Oh, you'll regret its early dawning when gray, the dawn betokens morning
For in the ocean, ecstasy, is love ... and love ... and endlessly.
Come to our arms, where billows swell , and rock and roll in its cradle-well;
Sleep and rest in the murm' ring ocean and dream the dream of love's emotion. . . . (Suddenly, there is a loud SPLASH. The announcer snaps from his reverie-gives a startled look-gasps.)
ANNCR: (Excitedly) Ladies and Gentlemen ... a man one of the--uh ... one of the -uhscientists, I believe .. . has just jumped into the river.
Ladies and Gentlemen, they' re all jumping in, the people down here are going crazy (SPLASH) everyone is jumping in the river (SPLASH) everyone is going to the mermaids ....
MERM'o: All the world is open to thee; thy heart's content and all is free, Roam and range to Hindustan and play in the surf by Aztec land, Alaska's waters, chill and cold, is for ye who are brave and bold, And Afric's shores of golden sands is to be modelled in thy hands ... .
ANNCR: (Tense, shouting) some of the Marines are jumping in .... (SPLASH) ... the scientists the police ... have already gone ....
(SPLASH-SPLASHSPLASH) some of the firemen are jumping . . . there goes Oswald Gof etchus ... (SPLASH) ... (SPLASH) good grief-that was the Chief of Police.
MERM'o: Swim in warm and sunlit waters with
[ 15}
all the fair of Neptune's daughters; Nor fret can ever crease thy brow do ye but cast off troubles now.
Whims for whims and wiles for wiles are gayest by the southern isles,
And this . . . a life so fanciful . . . so, too, is rich, and bountiful; Life, with no concern for morrow; that time goes by, our only sorrow ....
(The splashes continue, while the announcer, scarcely able to talk coherently, continues to shout .)
ANNCR: .. . the river is literally black with people swimming out to the mermaids .... Oh, this is fantastic . . you should see it . . . (SPLASH) the Pied Piper of Hamelin had nothing on this luring wom this lady ... this fish, whatever she is ...
MERM'o: Ah, life ... so fresh, so pure, so gay, come to us and you'll ever stay.
Relinquish, then, concernments deep, and of the ocean's ha):Vestsreap,
For all that is, its source, the sea, is giving and awaiting thee.
Come now ... come now, while mermaids call; come to the oceanic hall. . . .
Come, swim away and ever roam, for all the world is thy rightful home; Come, claim the bounties whilst ye may, and cast thy petty cares away.
The sea will cleanse thee of thy age; the ocean is the only sage ....
And mermaids bring thee to thy youth, for what is love but living truth? ? ?' ?-
(The announcer, still excitedly trying to describe the astonishing scene .)
ANNCR: ... yes, Ladies and Gentlemen ... this picture tonight is one of the most astounding ever to have occurred ... a Mermaid, like the sirens of old has lured almost the entire crowd on the dock into the water ... as I look about me there's ... as I look about me HOLY SMOKES ... THERE'S NO ONE LEFT ... NO ONE AT ALL HEY ... WAIT! ... HEY, WAIT FOR ME ... WAIT FOR ME! .. .
(There is a final, conclusive SPLASH.) (The mermaid, sweetly . .. .)
MERM'o: Ohhhhh, George dearest, dearest, dearest ... what shall we do now?
(There is no answer no sound except a kittenish ripple, lapping at the shore . .)
-NELSON WEBER.
Our ClassLass of theMonth
PEGGY HARRIS , of Roanoke, Virginia . Peggy was chosen by the Junior class of Westhampton College as their representative for this honor. A Sociology major, and a member of Mortar Board, th is hard-working brown-eyed brunette likes pastel shades. Her hobbies are dancing and writing. She reminds us o f Lilies-of-the-Valley, crisp Fall days , and American Beauty Roses [ 16 )
The Portrait
IGRABBED my coat and hurried from the newspaper office. Just one more interview and then home for me, I thought, as the chilly December wind stung my cheeks. I pulled my coat closer and hurried to 814 West Pine Street, where Miss Susie Peck, the oldest lady in Paterson , lived.
As I knocked on the large wooden door, I was thinking of how I could approach this old lady. A very young girl opened the door and peered out.
"May I speak with Miss Susie? " I asked.
"Who's calling? " she replied sharply " Miss McCrae, " I answered.
She shut the door, and I heard her walkin g slowly up the stairs. After a short time, she again appeared at the door. " Miss Susie says to show you into the parlor. She'll be down shortly. "
The door closed behind me , and I was le£t alone i n a large, musty parlor. Dark heavy drapes hung a t the windows, and an old piano stood in a corner. I walked over and took a seat before the fireplace. A candle on the m4ntel flickered and cast shadows on a picture that was hanging on the wall. It was a portrait-a portrait of a man His dark beady eyes stared at me from beneath his thick eyebrows. He seemed to want to smile but his lips, tight and thin, only curled to one side of his pale face . His n ose was prominent and slightly crooked, and his chin was very small.
Suddenly the door opened and an old lady l imped into the room.
" So you came to see me . Must be to get something-only reason anyone ever comes Keep your seat , Miss McCrae." Miss Susie sank into a chair n ear mrne.
I fumbled with words about the weather, her h ealth, and her antiques. "That's a fascinatin g p ortrait, too, " I added.
" Fascinating?" She stared at the picture "Why? "
· I studied the portrait a long time. " His eyes seem cold and yet there is a tenderness in them that captivates me .. He wasn't really that sad, was he? "
She looked at me, startled at what I had said As she looked her eyes got a distant expression , an d she mumbled to herself, " You aren't really that sad , are you? " Still speaking very softly, her eyes glaring through me, she continued, "Yes, he was sad-sad from the moment I first saw him
coming up the steps. That was the day I came to Paterson to live with Cousin Lil. It had been snowing hard and when I knocked on the large wooden door of my new home , I was cold, wet, and frightened. When Cousin Lil opened the door and stared at me that cold, snowy day, I was even more frightened
" 'Well, don ' t stand there trembling. Wipe off your feet, and I'll show you to your room ,' she snapped.
" 'Oh, yes'm,' I replied and set to work wiping the snow off my shoes. ' Dreadful weather we ' re having, you know! '
" 'Huh! No one knows it better than me. All I do is eat, sleep, and shovel coal! ' she sighed.
"I followed her up three flights of stairs to a small attic room I didn't have much time to look around because , before I knew it , she had laid my clothes boxes on the bed and was leading me downstairs to dinner. There were many strange people at the table, and I thought they would never finish eating .
"After dinner, I dried dishes for Cousin Lil. Her face was pale and sober as she washed and laid the dishes on the side of the sink. Her bare muscular arms moved swiftly, and , with short quick puffs, she blew a strand of long black hair from in front of her eyes.
" 'What's your Pa doing getting pneumonia? ' she asked, but didn't wait for an answer. Td be smart if I'd get sick so someone could take care of me! '
"Tears filled my eyes and I turned away to put some dishes in the cabinet.
" She picked up a plate of half-eaten food, and mumbled to herself, ' These boarders! If Andre w were living, there ' d be no scraps left! '
"I remember Andrew , Lil's husband, only slightly. Before he died, he and Lil had come t o see us. He used to entertain my brothers and me by telling us Bible stories They were interesting when he told them
" Finally the dishes were dried and I retraced my steps to the little attic room . Before I reached the top of the stairs , I heard footsteps close behind me. I turned to see a young man coming slowly up the steps He went into a room at the top of the stairs and closed his door.
"The next moming I was awakened by a loud
knock on my door. Cousin Lil stuck her thin pale face into the room.
" 'Here ' s the mop and feather brush. You can start by cleaning the bedrooms. Now, get up, child. Can't keep you if you're lazy.'
"She slammed the door, and I heard her heavy footsteps as she went down the long flight of steps. I rolled out of bed and was soon cleaning. Finally, I came to the room at the top of the steps. My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob, but before I could reach it, the door was open, and the young man was standing before me . 'Oh , I beg your pardon, sir. Cleaning day, you know,' I stammered.
" 'Certainly,' he replied. ' Don ' t dust any of the pictures in my room. Just clean the floor.' He walked down the steps to breakfast. I gazed into his room. Paintings were standing and lying everywhere. They were both large and small, paintings of snow scenes and flower gardens, of dancing children and grieving lovers, of brightcolored birds and dying soldiers. I walked across the room and looked about. Suddenly my eyes stopped to rest upon a portrait that the artist was painting of himself. How sad his expression was. I looked at it a very long time until a deep voice remarked, 'Not very good, is it?'
" I could feel my face becoming warmer. ' Oh, yes, it's very good, but you aren't really that sad, are you?' He walked over to the window and gazed at the snow-blanketed trees.
" I was sorry I had asked that question, and cleaned his floor quickly. I left him still gazing out of the window.
" The days seemed to pass slowly. Each morning brought more and harder work, but I knew that each day also brought me closer to Friday which was cleaning day. I enjoyed cleaning Mr. Dare ' s room most of all. I had heard his name at the dinner table. Some mornings we talked, about the weather, about his paintings, about me. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get him to tell me about himself. He always said that he had nothing to tell.
"The more I saw him, the more I liked seeing him. I think he felt the same way. There was the day when his paint brush dropped into my bucket of water. We both reached for it and knocked our heads together. We laughed and then merely looked at each other. His touch was tender as he held my shoulders; his look, piercing; his breath,
[ 18]
warm. He looked as if he could~-"
Miss Susie looked at the portrait, her eyes dewy. She paused a while and continued. "One day he was laughing while I told him about the first time I milked a cow. His happy expression startled me, and, placing a mirror before him, I begged, 'Oh , please, make your portrait look like you look now! ' Although he avoided my plea with a flippant gesture, the expression of the portrait becam e softer and more gentle as time passed.
" The winter days flew by quickly. After th e dishes were cleaned, I slipped out to the ba ck porch. I leaned my head against a cool post an d watched the silvery moon flickering in and out between the dark clouds I heard someone softl y open anEl close the door. I knew the footsteps an d I knew the touch of his warm hands on my arm s. The moon peeped between the clouds and a soft warm breeze whistled through the fall bare trees I leaned my head against his shoulder. He presse d my arm tightly and sighed Suddenly, he let go, an d quickly went into the house. A large cloud floatea over the moon and everything was dark.
"The next morning when I awakened, golde n sun rays were beaming in through my window I jumped out of bed and opened the window wid e A soft cool breeze touched my face and a robin on a tree near by greeted me. Furthermore, what could be more wonderful; it was Friday!
" I cleaned the bedroom and rushed into Mr. Dore ' s room to greet him. Sunlight, beaming in through the window, fell across the floor, across the dark, empty floor. There were no colors, no pictures, there was no Mr. Dore. As I turned abou t, dazed, in the room that seemed strangely lar ge then , I saw through swimming tears his portrai t. He had left that for me."
The sun had set and the candle, much short er now, still flickered on the mantel. Miss Susie looked at the portrait a long time. Suddenly, she shook and straightened up in her chair. She w as startled at seeing me there beside her-startled at how long she had been speaking. She cleared h er throat. "What was it you wanted, young lady ?"
I, too, had been far away and when I realize d her question, I told her that I had come to get a story for the Paterson Herald, since she was th e oldest lady in Paterson.
"Paterson Herald? Oldest lady? Nonsense! I have no story!"
-BARBARA MCGHEE.
HE: "Do you know who was the first engineer?"
SHE: "No. Who was?"
HE: "Adam. He furnished the spare parts for the first loud speaker."
PROF: "Will you explain the difference between ' shilling' and 'pence'?"
STUDENT:"You can walk down the street without shillings ."
SHE: "You say your dress suit 1s a little clamp?"
HE: "Yes, there's so much due on it."
COED: "How can a girl keep her youth?"
MOTHER: "Don ' t introduce him to other girls."
FLORIDIAN(pie king up waterm elon) : "Is this the largest orange you can grow here?"
CALIFORNIAN:"Stop fingering that grape."
VET: " How ' d you get along with your wife in that fight the other night? "
2ND: "Aw, she came crawling to me on her hands and knees."
VET: "What did she say?"
2ND: " 'Come out from under that becl, you heel.' "
BJG SHOT: ' TU indorse your cigarettes for $ 10,000."
Ao. AGENT: ''I'll see you inhale first."
Most quizzes only prove that a fool can ask more questions than a wise man can answer.
A cute little blonde from St. Paul Wore a newspaper dress to a ball. The dress caught fire, It burned her entire-Front page, sports section, and all.
"Do you believe Washington threw a dollar across the River?"
"Sure , money went farther in those days."
FIRSTSTUDENT: "Let ' s cut chemistry today."
SECONDSTUDENT: "Can't. I need the sleep." [ 19]
"MYSHOEIS
Q#Q~"
There's plenty of college spirit in AIR-0-MAGICs plus 88 comfort-construction features that have made them the most talked-about, walked-about shoes on the campus! Patented, hand-moulded innersoles guard against irritating ridges and wrinkles. You'll like the
way they look, the way they flt, the way they wear. And AIR-0-MAGICs are a s easy on the budget as they are on your feet. NO breaking-in!
Moderately priced
Style No. 701 T Station Wagon
The Copper Kettle
(Continued from page 5)
a bit. However, I do feel that you are worth y of it and will appreciate it fully. If you could arrange to meet me some time in the near future to talk over the question of price, l would appreciate _it very much.
Very truly yours,
DANIEL FRANKLIN.
She ripped the letter in small pieces, pulled out her stationery box, and wrote in a blaze of fury
Mr. Daniel Franklin opened his door to a Special Delivery messenger.
"Yes" answered Mr. Franklin. '"Sign here. "
"Mr. Franklin signed, closed the door , and looked at the letter curiously. He opened the envelope and the letter screamed out at him.
Mr. Franklin!
How dare you! How dare you presume I would pay you for such a " commodity." It is not worth one cent to me How could you think I'd consider buying such a thing. You are the most egotistical demented man I've ever had the misfortune to correspond with This letter will end our transaction.
S. JOHNSON.
"Well I'll be damned ," said Mr. Franklin . Then he too became infuriated. "Did she think I'd giv e it to her for nothing? It said in black and whit e 'To Sell-One copper kettle .' Not worth a penn y huh-I'll show her how much it's worth." H e seized the kettle, jammed on his hat, and storme d out of 3A , 42 5 West 49th Street and caught th e crosstown subway.
People looked at him curiously-a young redheaded man carrying a copper kettle and mutt ering to himself is not a common sight even on a New York subway. At Second Avenue he charg ed out of the subway, up 52nd Street, and int o Number 215. He punched the buzzer marked Mi ss Susan Johnson, and stormed up the stairs . Mi ss Susan Johnson stood in the open doorway, wid eeyed at the sight of Mr. Daniel Franklin and th e copper kettle Mr. Daniel Franklin looked at th e blue-eyed Miss Susan Johnson and Miss Susan Johnson looked at the red-haired Mr. Frankli n and they both began to smile.
Two hours later Mr. Franklin walked out of th e building. His hat was pushed back on his he ad, his hands minus the copper kettle swung freel y, his face beamed with a smile and he sang cheeril y, if a bit off key-
" If you knew Susie
Like I know Susie
Oh, Oh, Oh what a girl-:--"
-IRENE ADLER
Campus
As the late, great Gertrude Stein might hav e said-but didn ' t - "a buck is a buck is a buek." And bncks-up to frfteen of 'em- are precisely what Pepsi-Cola Co. kick s in for gags you send in and we print. J ust mark your stuff with your name, add re s s, school and ela s s , and send it to Easy Money Dept.,Pepsi-Cola Co.,BoxA, Lon g Island City, N. Y. All contributions become the property of Pepsi-Cola Co.
We pay only for those we print. Yes, you collect a rejection slip if your masterpiece lays an egg on arrival.
Will we hate you for mentioning "Pepsi-Cola" in your gag? Au contraire, to eoin a phrase. It stimulates us. Even better than benzedrine. So come onbandage up that limp badinage, and send it in - for Easy Money. Then just sit back and cross your fingers.
-DAFFY DEFINITIONS-
$1 apiece to Herbert W. Hugo of Northu:estem Univ., Richard M. Sheirich of Colgate Univ., Tad Golas of Columbia College,Bob Sanford of Notre Dame, and Jo Cargill of Bates College for these. And when we think of what a dollar used to buy!
Mushroom-the girl friend ' s front parlor.
Dime-a buck with taxes taken out.
Ounce - one-twelfth of a bottle of Pepsi-Cola.
Funnel - faster way of drinking Pepsi. Ghost writer-writes obituary notices.
Suffering from the shorts? Here's your answer-one buck each for any of these we buy.
GET FUNNY •.. WIN MONEY ... WRITE A TITLE
urtlEMORON CORNER
Here's the eharaeter study (and we do mean "character") that dragged down two iron men for Mauro Montoya of Univ. of New Mexico:
Our own inimitable Murgatroyd (better known to his intimates as "Meathead") was discovered a few days ago carefully holding a large bucket beneath a leaking faucet. Naturally he was asked the reason. "Duuuuh," replied the outsized oaf, with his customary ready intelligence, "I'm collectin' trickles for the Pepsi-Cola jingle!"
Arthur J. McGrane of Duke Univ. also raked in $2 for his moron gag. So can you, if yours clicks. Just be yourself!
HE-SHEGAGS
Three bucks apiece went out to Mammonworshippers Bill Spencer of Hardin-Simmons Univ., Nick G. Flocos of Univ. of Pittsburgh, Shirley Motter of Univ. of Cincinnati, and Carson A. Ronas of Brooklyn , N. Y., respectively, for these bits of whimsy:
He: 0. K., stupid, be that way.
She: Don't you call me stupid!
He: 0. K., ignorant.
She: Well, that ' s better!
* * *
She: I'm thirsty for a Pepsi-Cola.
He: Okay, let's sip this one out.
* * *
He: Does your husband talk in his sleep?
She: No, it's terribly exasperating. He just grins.
* * *
He-Bottle on Pepsi Truck: At least we're better off than those two empty bottles on the sidewalk.
She-Bottle on Pepsi Truck: How do you figure?
He-Bottle on Pepsi Truck: They've been drunk since yesterday, and we're still on the wagon.
* * *
$3 each-that's a lot of bonanza oil! But that's the take-home pay for any of these we buy.
A very special contest-for cartoonists who can't draw. If that's you, just write a caption for this remarkable cartoon. (If you can't write, either, we can't do business.) $5 each for the best captions. Or if you ' re a cartoonist who can draw, se nd in a cartoon idea of your own. $10 for just the idea ... $15 if you draw it if we buy it.
December winners: $15.00 to: Kathy Gonso of Michigan State College; $5.00 each to: Alex. H. Veazey of Philadelphia, Leroy Lott of Univ. of Texas, and Robert A. M. Booth of Univ. of Colorado. Not a conscience in the crowd!
