The famous mezzo-soprano and opera's brilliant, new coloratura agree •••
In a recent test of hundreds of people who smoked only Camels for 30 days, noted throat specialists, making weekly examinations, reported NOT ONE SINGLE CASE OF THROAT IRRITATION due to smoking ~AMELS!
Millions of people who have smoked Camels for years already know about Camel's cool, cool mildness. If you're not among those Camel smokers ... if you've never given Camels a real, dayto-day trial ... start your own 30-day test of Camel mildness today!
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~-[7/Jaok {§~/
Try Camels and test them as you smoke them. If, at any time, you are not convinced that Camels are the mildest cigarette you ever smoked, return the package with the unused Camels and we will refund its full purchase price, plus postage. (Signed) R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Com• pany, Winston-Salem, N. C.
I AGREE)MISS SWARTHOUT-EVER SINCE I MADE THAT 30-0AY MILDNESS TEST,ITS BEEN CAMELSWITHME!
AND WHEN You'VESMOKED CAMEI.S AS LONG AS I HAVE, VIRGINIA, YOU'LL APPRECIATETI-IAT MILDNESSAND FLAVOR EVENMORE!
According to a Nationwide survey: MORE DOCTORS SMOKE CAMELS THAN ANY OTHER CIGARETTE Doctors smoke for pleasure, too! And when three leading independent research organizations asked 113,597 doctors whac cigarette they smoked, the brand named most was Camel!
One of America's most popular singers ... star ( ,for many years of the Metropolitan Opera, motion pictures, concert, radio and recordings.
She has scored brilliant successes with the New York City Opera Company, at Covent Garden in London, and in concert.
THE COVER
We feel the same way about our cover as we are sure millions of wives feel about their meals. It takes so much time and effort to prepare them and then their husbands gobble them up without ever stopping to realize what went on behind the scenes.
Well, in our case, first we had to choose the proper model. (Suppose there's no need -to elaborate on why brown-haired, blue-eyed Stella Dalton, who hails from Pulaski, Virginia, received a unanimous vote.) Then we had to advertise for some rabbits-Jonah Bowles and Wesley Bernhart to the rescue. (See article on "A Hobby That Pays.") Now that we had the girl and the rabbits there remained the egg. 'Course I suppose we could have drawn one, but what the heck, we had real rabbits and a real girl. So Joyce Parrish cracked a dozen eggs until she finally made one crack across the middle just right. And then Bill Wills came along with his trusty camera and put the girl, the rabbits, and the egg all together.
APRIL SONATA
April will bring that deep loneliness again With its heavy burden of the Past's faded rose; Even the apple blossom's springtime fragrance Brings a memory that whispers at my ear, then goes.
Now those moments are creeping fast upon me, Striking the symphonic notes so clear; And I stand in complete darkness striving for that something, The music which only my heart can hear.
But now my April Sonata has passed again; The haunting, dreamy tone of it all Tears my soul when I try to recall it, As dead as the shivering leaves that fall.
So I wait and hope for April's murmurs; And though my years have lingered long, I sh~ll listen for the April Sonata, For some day my dream shall be my song.
-MARJORIE CANADA.
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Editorially Speaking
IT'S EASTER TIME
OF ALL the festivals of the Christian year, Easter is the most important and most joyful. It typifies purity and a new birth. It is sometimes called the Day of Light, Sunday of Joy, or the Festival of Festivals.
Actually, Easter is a mixture of three traditions. Originally, this festival was part of a heathen celebration in honor of the spring sun which had its birth in the east. The feast was called Eostur. Even today we can trace our Easter eggs, Easter rabbits, Easter fires, Easter games and Easter laughter to this pagan origin. The eggs became symbolic of the germinating fertility of Spring and were colored like rays of the returning sun; likewise, the rabbits were notable for their fecundity. The heathen custom of creating fires to celebrate the triumph of Spring over Winter has now become the reappearance of the Light of the World out of His tomb of stone. The games and laughter resulted from the relaxation after Lent when the people participated in various types of light entertainment. Even clergymen told jokes and humorous legends to bring forth the "Easter smile" from their congregation.
The second tradition that is commingled in our modern conception of Easter is the Hebrew observance of Pesach or Passover. In Exodus XII we find that the angel of death "passed over" the dwellings of the l,sraelites, thus sparing their first-born. The Hebrews sprinkled ,the blood of a sacrificed paschal lamb on the doors of their houses as a ,sign of immunity.
Since it was at the feast of Passover in Jerusalem that Jesus, a Jew, was crucified and rose from the dead, when the Chfi.stians celebrated the resurrection of the sacrificed Lamb of God, i,t naturally came to be called by a similar name. Thus we have the third tradition. Even today the French, Italian, and Spanish words for Easter are very similar to Pesach. The feast of the resurrection was really the old Passover with the new idea added to it of Christ as the real Paschal Lamb. And later still, when Christianity reached the Teutonic peoples, it was natural for them to think of their old heathen festival of the resurrection of the sun in connection with the new festival of the resurrection of the Son of Righteousness.
Today we have a convergence of these three traditions, but still there is no definite date of observance. At first the celebration lasted eight days. It has been gradually decreased. The Feast of the Passover still lasbs one week-sometime between March 25 and April 26. Easter falls anywhere between March 22 and April 25. The exact dates are determined by different methods and with reference to two different calendar ,s, and it is very rare when they fall on the same day. Passover is observed on the fourteenth day of the month, which is the full moon based on the Jewish lunar calendar. The Christians wanted Easter to be on Sunday so it was decided that it should be the first Sunday after the first full moon after March 21 , with the exception that if the full moon occurs on Sunday, then Easter should rbe the next Sunday. Since even under this plan the full moon is based on the lunar month that the church astronomers used, it is still difficult to debermine. To relieve you of any uncertainty, Easter in 1950 will fall on April 9.
- HAROLD FLAX.
$4,000 Worth of College
COURAGEOUS university officials and farsighted students are aware that the rush to college holds hazards for the future. Every college man who is planning to obtain a bachelor's degree expects to make more money and enjoy more prestige because of it However, it seems clear that if the mass production of college graduates increases at the expected rate, a dozen years from now may well find ,the market flooded with executive jobs and the new aspirants being forced into job groups below their expectations. To offset this tendency there should be placed upon college education a revaluation as education for living rather than education for making a living. Today's modern emphasis upon materialism in all its forms obscures the fact that the rewards of life are not all monetary. This false emphasis kids us into believing that every success story is measured in dollars. Unless society is to break down under the weight of its own materialism, education must equip its new recruits with higher spiritual values which cannot be ignored nor forever remain unseen.
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Higher education must be revamped to meet the needs of the people. It can never be construed to mean the prerogative of the masses. By its own definition it strives democratically to draw talented youth from every vein of human society, thus encouraging the ambitious leader to find his own way. Higher education can never deny worthy candidates, but it has failed in its job when it fails to discourage the . acceptance of mediocrity who want only what "goes with" college education.
Just as in any endeavor, the field cannot be flooded with bona fide leaders. But if present paths are continued many an apple cart will be manned by a Ph.D. who mistook the torch of learning for Aladdin's lamp.
-ANDY OBERG.
EDITOR 0 S NOTE: Whereas it is not the policy of THE MESSENGERto print articles of students who are not currently enrolled in the University, we should like to make an exception in the case of Andy Oberg. We feel he has something to say which is worth thinking about. We are sure most of you know Andy. He worked as a part-time College Announcer over WRNL and was known as "The most beautiful voice in Richmond." Forced to leave school recently because of the tragic death of his Mother, Andy hopes to return next September.
Coach Pitt Speaks
"WITH
talk of federal aid to education and salary increases for teachers in state universities, how can the existence of a small college such as the University of Richmond be justified?"
This is a question that Coach Pitt, head of the athletics department of Richmond College would like to see answered.
The son of a University of Richmond graduate, a graduate himself, and the father of children who have attended this school, Coach Pitt is a man who has his heart wrapped up in the University. He has been on the coaching staff of tihe school since 1928. Prior to that he played professional baseball. His dream is to see the University of Richmond become the pride of all its graduates-graduates who will look forward to the time when their childred will attend the "family" university.
"Our number one problem here is loyalty," the sports mentor said, with an emphatic wave of his hand, "and in order to eliminate this problem we've got to institute a rebirth of a fighting, progressive college spirit. We must develop a closer student-faculty relationship and a better under-
standing between the University Administration and the students. And within the student body, the task of building up a spirit of loyalty will meet with dismal failure unless students are made to feel that the university is for them and is dependent upon them for future greatness or mediocrity."
Pitt pointed out that since the second world conflict the University of Richmond has been "anything but normal." "The student body," he said, "consists of a conglomeration of students with all types of experiences; some are married, some have fought Japs and malaria in the South Pacific and Germans all over Europe. There are the adolescents who are fresh out of high school and have not seen life as lived by some of the older students. With this cross section of students it is difficult to mold a true college atmosphere."
There are other factors which Coach Pitt thinks s~ould be improved. He pointed out that all university football games are played downtown in the Richmond Municipal Stadium and that all basketball contests are held at Blues Armory. Why? "Because the university hasn't a stadium which can accommodate the people who wish to come to the games, nor a gymnasium large enough to admit the large number of spectators who would want to witness the contests.
"It is true that our baseball games are played on the campus, but they are played on the same field which is used for football practice; by the time baseball season comes around it is barren of grass and has to be re-turfed before it can be used."
Physical improvements that would eliminate many of the headaches of the University as a whole and the athletics department, in particular, he said, were such things as the erection of the student activities building at the earliest practical date, enlargement of the present gymnasium, construction of a baseball stadium, and, finally, a football stadium which would make it possible for the university to have its own sports and dances take place on the college campus.
"Athletic,s are not my only interest on the campus," the sports director was quick to emphasize. "I like to see a student take advantage of all the many opportunities of college life to improve his mind as well as his body. He needs to develop a good attitude ,toward himself and his fellows. He needs the friendly guidance of his teachers. He has to be inspired to work toward a goal-one from which both he and mankind may benefit."
-CHESTER A. BECK.
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LegendOf The Dogwood
ONCE upon a time, many hundreds of years ago, in a far distant land, the dogwood tree as we know it was far different than it is now. Then it was blessed and called God's Wood and grew proudly tall and straight and sturdy, bearing leaves but no blossoms. Such trees as these grew in great abundance in this far away land and were popular among the people in building their homes and their fishing boats and even the temples in which they worshipped.
One early morning two young Roman soldiers were intently searching the woods near the chief city of the land . Said one, "Our centurion said it must be long and strong enough to support a man."
"Yes, it is to be used in the crucifixion of one of the three criminals this very afternoon, I have heard."
They went on searching for the desired tree. Then suddenly one of them stopped and frowned as he looked up through the trees. "Why, look how cloudy it is growing. It bodes a storm, I fear ."
At that moment the other exclaimed, "Ah, here is one made to order-tall and very sturdy. God's Wood, is it not?"
His companion did not know, but they made haste to cut down the object of their search. Suddenly they heard the rustle of leaves and, sur- · prised, looked up. The whole tree was a-tremble. One of the young men, superstitious, was immediately apprehensive about cutting down the tree. "Strange things have happened in the land recently," he reminded.
But his fellow smiled and shrugged his shoulders, saying, "It is only the fresh wind of the season." Turning to his work, he began chopping away at the tree.
And so that afternoon a condemned man bore the tree, transformed into a cross, to a hill, and tihere was nailed upon it, was tortured, and finally died. And as he gave up his life, the sky grew dark and the stillness profound. A voice like the wind or perhaps like the music of the spheres, was sensed rather than heard by a few in that place.
"Oh cursed tree that hath borne a King to His death, never more shalt thou be called my tree, and never more shalt thou stand straight and tall and strong. Instead, thou shalt henceforth grow low to the ground in token of thy humility, and thy branches shall be small and twisted so that never more can any son of God be crucified thereon. Thou shalt be denied thy abundance of leaves in remembrance of thy fruitless purpose and, instead, thou shalt put forth blossoms, two long and two short petals as the emblem of the form thou now art-blossoms which sha ll be white as He was pure, and spotted with the red of His blood on the tip of each petal. And in the center of each petal shall be a crown of thorns evermore to prick thee into remembrance of thy sin." .
And so today the small, twisted boughs labor through the winter, and in the early spring put forth their buds as eternal penance for the lowly office they once performed. And then at Easter, the tree weeps and in its tears is freed of the sad emblems of its curse
"Four-to -one says he isn't ours."
Picture of the Month
The staff wish to express their appreoat10n to the Virginia State Chamber of Commerce for this very appropriate Picture of the Month.
Merry-Go-Round
this case it meant the
THE house that John Newsom called home was the next to the last one in the block; a squat, dirty little house much like the others on the street. All of them looked aged and tired and forlorn. They seemed to_ lean toward each other, seeking comfort from their own ugliness. Some of them actually did sag, it appeared to Newsom as 'he plodded slowly up the brick sidewalk to the twelve steps that led up to his home.
Even before his hand touched the front door knob, he could hear someone crying somewhere within the house. He opened the door gently, tossed his hat and coat on a nearby chair, and made his way to the kitchen. A small figure lay on the spotted linoleum, surrounded by a wreckage of broken sticks and pieces of red paper, sobbing brokenly.
Newsom walked over and kneeled down by his son. "What's wrong, Tim?" he asked gently. "Why all the tears? And what are all the sticks and paper for?"
The boy raised a tear-stained face and looked beseechingly at his father. The tears had made clean little valleys through a generous amount of dirt on his cheeks. "My kite, Pop," he said, pointing to the scattered sticks and paper. "That was my kite." Tim paused and began crying once more, this time louder.
"Well, son, tell me what happened. Did you get angry about ·something and tear it up?"
"No," the boy wailed. "Mother tore it up. And she beat me too, and I didn't do anything. And she tore up my kite. It was a pretty kite, Pop, and I wanted to sail it too." Tim buried his head in his arm and continued to cry.
Newsom patted his son gently and let out an explosive sigh. "It's too late to sail a kite today, son. It's almost dark now, and ... you say mother beat you for no reason?"
Tim did not look at his father. His sobbing had diminished to wretched little moans that caught in his throat and jerked his body. "I didn't do anything, Pop," he said emphatically.
The boy pressed his face tightly against the red sleeve of his sweater and other words tumbled
out in spasmodic cadence with the gasping sobs. "She just came in here and beat me. And she tore up my kite."
"Maybe you shouldn't have been on the floor, son. Get up and go wash your face, and here, here's a dime. You can buy another kite tomorrow."
After his son had left the room he reached behind a pile of old newspapers, pulled out a bottle and held it up to the light. He thought it had been well hidden.
"Damn her," he said out loud. "She found it and helped herself."
He carried ,the whiskey to the pantry shelf, poured himself a stiff drink and, without chaser, tossed it off.
He held the empty glass to his lips for a moment, having a sudden urge to wrap his fingers around its smooth surface and hurl it against the wall. He could hear the boy in the bathroom, splashing water and whistling. The dime had stopped the cryrng.
Newsom set the glass back down on the shelf, noticing at the same time a piece of torn envelope with neat writing on it propped against the sugar bowl. The handwriting was Helen's: "I have gone to the movies with Charlotte. Back at seven. Fix dinner then or you can fix it yourself for you and Tim." She had not signed it.
He stood looking vacantly at -the note for a long time. Tim came out of the bathroom and gazed down silently at the wreckage of his kite. Newsom did not notice the boy, his thoughts for the moment far away from the house, from Tim, .from the city back to the days when he first knew Helen when 9he was living in a small town in Connecticut.
It was desperation that had driven him to Helen in the first place and had caused him to follow through by marrying her. It wasn't the desperation of a criminal fleeing from justice but desperation with life itself, in the tick of the clock.
Aside from that was the minor reason of the "merry hell" raised by Helen's old man. What were they doing, he wanted ·to know, up to two [6}
or three o'clock in the morning when all "respectable" people were at home and in bed? Well, he .and Helen had been in bed too.
Old Man Stokes, Helen's father, wasn't such a bad guy. He was old and he and Helen lived in - the biggest and oldest house in town and had the distinction of being among •the first citizens of Glaston by virtue of the fact that the Stokes Family had settled in Glaston in the early part of the 19th Century. They were good and honest people .and blue-blooded too, Newsom was told many times, and from the loins of their kind had sprung the generations that had made America the leading country in the world.
Only, when Newsom had first seen her in the Stokes Brass and Copper Works office she didn't look the part of Glas ton's Leading Lady-she looked like a Woman of The World who had seen most of it in the dog-eat-dog-and-to-hell-withyou society-the society the little people lived in, fought in, died in, the society of Mr. Average Man, the American Ghost.
He found out later she looked like that because she was what ,the town shudderingly called a Hell Raiser. One reason she was such a Hell Raiser was because her old man was determined he was going to make a lady out of her if it killed him but he never did, and it was slowly killing him.
When Newsom saw her in her old man's office the morning he arrived in Glaston after a trip from New York, she was still wearing a green evening dress that was stained in spots, and a fur coat which she wore draped over her shoulders. She was shouting at the old man, pounding on his desk with her fist-a small, imperious fist-and the sounds carried through the glass paneling of the office to the ears of Newsom sitting in the reception room, waiting to go in. He remembered that day clearly ... it was like a knife edge lodged in his brain because he had wanted to go in and
knock , her down. The r9om had suddenly grown hot and sweat broke out on the palms of his hands.
Party girl, he had thought, coming by to see her Dear Father Moneybags for more money even before she went home to sleep it off. The other people in the office merely glanced up at her as she went out, then went back to their work. It must have been a regular thing But the sight of her in the green dress and the way her body filled it, the smell of her, the red hair, caused his heart to pound like it did one time when he saw a hawk swoop down and bury its talons in a tiny field mouse ....
Tim was down on the floor of the kitchen again, cleaning up the paper and sticks of the destroyed kite "Yes, Mr. Stokes, I just arrived in town. Yes sir, I came to see you about that position of Assistant Office Manager you advertised for in the Trade Magazine. Here are my references. Yes sir, I believe I can handle it if you give me a shot at it. All right sir, that'll be fine .... "
He had worked for Helen's old man as Assistant Office Manager of the Stokes Brass and Copper Works until a few weeks after that Black Friday in 1929 when the gamblers on Wall Street drew in their chips and the Bright World of Hope and Plenty fell in cascading ruins ....
That first week, as an Office Bigshot, Newsom had seen plenty of Helen. She made it a point to drop by and see the old man almost every day and it was inevitable that the night should come when Newsom, in the quietness of his hotel room, cursed, tossed his newspaper aside, slipped into his coat and hat, and kept the first of many rendezvous with Helen of the green dress and red hair.
He had met her crowd, the lot of them. They drove long sleek cars, wore the fashions of Fifth Avenue, drank the finest of French Liqueur and Kentucky bourbon and expounded loudly and learnedly the Doctrine of Socialism ( ignoring the fact that socialism would sweep away their advantage of accumulated wealth) .
They went all-out for mysticism and its spiritual satisfaction and cursed the restrictions of convention, which they generally disregarded anyway.
There was Rombly Melbourne, the socially ambitious intellectual who didn't drink or smoke but wrho was broad-minded enough to understand why others did. He "just loved" to see the others having such a good time. At thirty years of age he had already made a tiny start in politics, being a ·justice
(Continued on page 19)
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Drawing of the Month
By Ann Wiley
The humble violet, regal in its simplicity, waits patiently on the hilltop for the awakening of her Court. [ 8 J
Names in the News
LOUIS JOHNSON
BORN January 10, 1891, in Roanoke, Virgin~a, Loui~ Johnson, through his past experience with the War Department arid his seemingly endless supply of nervous energy, might be the man who can succeed in unifying the armed forces of the United States-a task which, in spite of Mr. Forrestal's efforts, has not yet been consummated.
Because his family was hit by the depression of the 1890's, young Johnson, as a college student, could not depend on his family for necessary educational finances Not dismayed, Johnson enterprisingly put himself through the University of Virginia Law School, where he was President of his law class, champion wrestler, and outstanding orator. He graduated at the age of twenty-oneone of the most notable members of his class.
Upon graduating from law school, Mr. Johnson moved -to Clarksburg, West Virginia, where he succeeded in securing a partnership in a law firm almost immediately. He had what seemed to be the "Midas Touch," for within a few years he was elected, at the age of twenty-six, to the West Virginia Legislature, where he succeeded in becoming the Governor's personal advisor.
With the coming of World War I, Louis Johnson, still a young man, enlisted in officers training school and graduated as a captain. He arrived in France in May of 1918, and there he fought at the front until the end of the war in November.
When he returned to civilian life, Mr. Johnson decided to settle down and become a small town lawyer. He married Ruth F. Maxwell on February 7, 1920, and returned to Clarksburg to resume his practice, determined to keep out of politics. As a lawyer, however, he was exposed to numerous political questions, and he became entwined once more in the circle of West Virginia politics.
But he still managed to have some free time and he used it in trying to make the American Legion which he had joined after his discharge from the Army-a worthy organization, and in 1932-33 he served as National Commander of the Legion. In 1938 he organized the Veterans' Division of the Democratic National Committee.
He was, in June, 1937, appointed by President Roosevelt to the post of Assistant Secretary of War, under Secretary of War, Harry Woodring. He had an excellent and "ambitious" understanding of President Roosevelt, and before the end of the year he became an important personage around the War Department.
His big concern at that time was the welfare of the armed forces, and the oversize list of colonels and generals in the Regular Army; however, his efforts were not to reduce the size of the Army and Navy, but to regulate them
While serving as Assistant to the Secretary of War, and continually harassed with tribulations stemming from efforts to improve the "brass" setup in the Army and Navy, Johnson did not neglect his duties. He foresaw the need for mobilization of business and industry to meet the threat of a national emergency, but because of opposition on the part of Secretary Woodring he was unable to carry out his plans for preparation against a future war, and when Roosevelt replaced Woodring with Henry L. Stimson in 1940, Johnson returned to his law practice.
Not until President Truman's announcement that he would run for President for a second term did Johnson enter the national political arena again. He left his practice and took over the job of soliciting campaign funds for the Democratic Party, a task which, though extremely difficult to carry out, was singularly successful.
Probably through his hard campaign work, his experience in national defense problems, and his party zeal, Mr. Truman saw fit to appoint Louis Johnson to succeed James Forrestal, the retiring Secretary of Defense.
Johnson is a big man with big soldiers; he is easy going but extremely frank. He is a man who can take over and run a department with efficiency and dispatch. Perhaps with his persistency he can bring together the gap which exists between the armed forces-a task which is vital to the safety of the nation today.
-CHESTER A. BECK.
Must Be A Tadpole
Frotn Gun Turrets to Witchcraft
Prof. Maner' s own story, as told to Joyce Parrish.
IN most cases, the location of and circumstances surrounding a person's birth have very little influence upon his future; however, I feel that in Prof. William Maner's case both may have been of decisive factors influencing h/s shall we say personality? There are two conflicting stories · abroad relating the incident of his nativity; therefore, in order to give an accurate account of his life, it is necessary to begin with the correct version.
William Maner was born, at an early age, aboard the U.S.S. New York, headed from Malta to the States. His father, a Lieutenant Commander in the Navy during the first world conflict, was returning home from the wars, accompanied by his blushing M;i)tese bride. Unfortunately, . a terrible storm arose just off Gibraltar, and Mrs. Maner, who had been out for a stroll on deck, was suddenly taken ill. Before she could get to sick bay, little William was born, in his usual impetuous manner -consulting no one, in the forward gun turret.
Old Mammy. During the early years of his life, which were spent on his grandfather's plantation on an island off the coast of South Carolina, he spent endless hours ardently studying her art of witchcraft and conjures, which was later supplemented by courses in psychology from which he also learned a great deal. As a result of all his study in this noteworthy field, he is an expert at the gri-
The events occupying the time between the incident on the ship and his second birthday are but blurred images in Maner's memory, his next recollections being of his first literary work. Unable to write, due to the negligence of his otherwise dutiful parents, two-year-old Billy was forced to dictate his first poem. It is for this reason that he has been referred to by T. S. Eliot as the "Brilliant illiterate." Since that memorable day he has written continuously, with most of his work being done in the middle of the night-at the witching hour. It might be noted at this point that Prof. Maner is a practicing amateur witch, having been trained by the most prominent witches of the South. The one from whom he learned most, however, was his
gri and the wonga and has a full line of two-penny curses. He hinted that he would also like it known that he makes love-philters and puts curses on people. It is assumed by the writer that his services are available at all times. At his home he has a window box ( moved with his other possessions, among which are a wife and child, from "Diesel on the James") where he raises wolf's bane, some of which he has with him at all times. He also wears around his neck a small leather bag containing dirt, scraped up from the crossroads at midnight by the light of the full moon. (He would not disclose the exact location.) Magic words are chanted over it, thereby calling up the devjl, who dictates long poems to him. Maner also uses this power of his to throw himself into a trance, during the confinement of which he writes poems by the yard. They are also sold by the yard at a cutrate.
When asked of the years spent at "Diesel on the James," he threw up his eyebrows in despair, thus ending this paragraph.
It was surprising to learn that in addition to his many other accomplishments, Prof. Maner counts music as one of his foremost talents, being very expert at playing the yazoo, or jazoo as it is some-
(Continued on page 16)
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Anniversary Waltz
VERN TYNDALL stood in the kitchen struggling with a magnum of champagne. His tace was determined as if he meant a fight to the finish. The cork made a blooping sound as it finally gave in to him. He had a look of triumph as he filled his glass.
He walked to the dining room door and peeped into the room. The room was filled with flowers and the table laden with dainty sandwiches and colored mints.
"Lawsy Mister Tyndall ... you'se better stay out of that shampain," Jenny Gunn said. Jenny was the girl who came in to do the housework but mostly talked to her friends on the phone. She gave Mr. Tyndall a toothy smile.
"It's almost time for the party to start, Jenny, so I guess Mrs. Tyndall won't mind," he said. He shuddered when he thought of the word party. His wife was noted for her parties but this one was to be the climax of her career as a hostess. It was a party to celebrate their 25th wedding anniversary. Mrs. Tyndall had decided to re-stage the wedding. She had worked hard to have everything just the same ... the same guests who were to dress in the fashion of 1924, the same preacher who was now a victim of senile dementia, and the same wedding dress although it was a little yellow with age.
"Don't spill any of that stuff on that there pretty suit, Mr. Tyndall. It sho does make you look handsome," Jenny said. Mr. Tyndall lifted his glass as if to drink to Jenny and retreated into the kitchen.
"Here we goes!" Jenny yelled as she went toward the front door. Mrs. Tyndall was in her bedroom struggling into a corset. Mrs. Ada Dalton swished pass Jenny when she opened the door. Handing the maid a briefcase she then removed her coat. She was dressed in a red taffeta dress. It was cut around the ankles like saw teeth. The waist hung way below her hips, with a cluster of artificial flowers drooping at one side.
"Youse de furst Miz Dalton."
"I came early on purpose, Jenny. I want to run over my music. It's such fun reliving something that happened so long in the past Don't you think?" She tried to make the flowers stand out a little but they fell right back in their pressed position.
"I won't here befo, Miz Dalton, but Ise having fun. We's having shampain you know." The wink
she gave Mrs. Dalton implied that she had already had a little.
Mrs. Dalton took her music from her briefcase and went into the drawing room. She mumbled to herself as she turned the piano stool to the height she wanted.
"I hope Augusta gets here soon. Her voice hasn't improved any in the last 25 years." She sat down on the stool like an old hen sitting on a nest of newly laid eggs. Her nose glasses wiggled dangerously as she played the first few bars of Because.
Jenny gave up answering the doorbell. "Ise got other things to do," she said to herself. "Somebody'll let 'em in." The room had began to churn with people when Mr. Tyndall decided that the champagne had been sampled enough and wandered into the room. He noticed an old man talking to Mrs. Dalton by the piano. The piano player gave him a frantic wave which Mr. Tyndall took as a greeting and waved back. She kept on waving. Finally he went over.
"Oh hello Mr. Tyndall ... you remember Reverend Green, don't you?"
"So you' re the lucky groom," the old man said to him. "Too bad I couldn't marry you in the church, but it's just like I told Smyrna's mother, the carpet has been removed for cleaning. By the way, where is Mrs. Landis?"
"Harmless!" Mr. Tyndall thought. Mrs. Landis, Smyrna's mother had been dead for ten years. Reverend Green had preached her funeral. "I don't know where she is," he stammered. "Upstairs, I suppose." Rev. Green stared at the ceiling.
"Well, I do wish she would come down here. I want to ask her something about the ceremony."
"It would make the party a complete success if she did come down," Mr. Tyndall said. The reverend didn't appear to understand Mr. Tyndall. He turned and looked at Mrs. Dalton, who had remained speechless while the two men had talked.
"Don't forget what I said. I don't want to catch you writing notes in the choir any more to that Dalton boy." He turned to Tyndall. "Ada has been romancing while singing in the choir. Remind me to speak to her mother when I see her."
"Vernon Tyndall! You old scalawag!" A woman's voice screamed from the other side of the room. A large woman dressed in a shiny black (Continued on page 17)
[ 12]
Springlever
Could it be puppy love the pooch is dreaming about? Kathleen Cooke , you know snoozing behind a book is no way to study . Hm-m-m-look at the glow on Carol Sidlovsky' s and Steve Webber's faces .-And that Day character. Willie, there are more comfortable places to sleep Looks as if Helen McDonough is dreaming of " Far Away Places ." You know spring football practice is over when you see Corky Brimm lounging around by the lake. Yup, must be spring!
A Hqbby That Pays
not twins and yet their records would make one wonder because they are both veterans, both Seniors, both married, both have two children, and both plan to enter Medical School after they graduate from Richmond College. We were able to find out one difference, however. In fact, there are two differences: Jonah's oldest child is. three and a half years old and Wes' oldest is all of four. And besides that, Mrs. Bowles is named Dot and Mrs. Bernhart goes by the name of Margaret
They are partners in the rabbit business which, we understand, began as just a bobby; however, now the rabbits are being especially bred for meat and fur and sold.
Jonah is holding a grey rabbit, known as a Chinchilla, and a white one of the New Zealand White variety. Wes bolds a coal black one, which is a cross between the Chinchilla and the New Zealand White. It seems that these are born as black as the ace of spades and in about three and a half months they become Chinchilla color, or grey. The white rabbit with the little black nose is a new development in the rabbit industry called the Californian.
Reading from left to right, we are proud to introduce Jonah Bowles, of 3810 Noble Avenue, Richmond, and Wesley Bernhart, of the Diesel School, as the first of our series of veteran students with interesting hobbies. Jonah and Wesley are
The story is told of the Kentucky colonel who bad an argument with the devil. The devil said that no one had a perfect memory. ~ut the colonel maintained that there was an Indian on bis plantation who never forgot anything.
The colonel agreed to for£ eit his soul to the devil if the Indian ever forgot anything.
The devil went up to the Indian and said: "Do you like eggs?"
The Indian replied, "Yes." The devil went away. Twenty years later the colonel died. The devil thought, "Ab, here's my chance." He came back to earth and presented himself to the Indian. Raising bis hand, be gave the tribal salutation, "How."
Quick as a wink the Indian replied, "Fried ." -El Burro.
In case anyone is interested, Jonah and Wesley said that the demand is far greater than the supply. We should think a wmd to the wise would be sufficient.
"Have
" O N o bl e Pan A me rica, wh ere deeds of p eace exc el,
M ay lo ve and fr eedom gl oriously with thee fo rev er dw ell.
L et other n atio n s sh arp their swords and shed each othe r' s blood.
W e sh all be tru e fore v er mo re, ou r goal is b rotherhood. "
HOW appropriately these words from "O Noble Pan America," the official song of the International Pan American Student Forum, express the deep bonds of friendship and cooperation which exist between the peoples of the twenty-one nations of the Pan American Union! It is these ideals and an increasing attitude of goodneighborliness that have led to the annual observance of Pan American Day throughout the United States and Latin America.
One has only to turn back the clocks of time to the early 1800' s to find the basis for both the Pan American Union and celebration of Pan American Day , for Simon Bolivar, the George Washington of South America, had long visualized a family of western nations based on republican government and continental solidarity. While the great South American liberator was exiled in Jamaica during the wars of Independence he initiated the first step toward realization of his lifelong hopes and dreams by a prophetic letter written in 1815. From this
small spark spread the fire of enthusiasm which made possible the first meeting of a Congress intent upon formulating plans toward a federation of Pan American nations in July of 1826. Seemingly a failure , with representatives present from only four nations, this meeting actually proved to be a definite move forward. A treaty of union was signed for perpetual confederation, and future regular meetings were designated.
Perhaps the most significant outgrowth of these early meetings was the October, 1889 conference of American nations which was called at the suggestion of United States Secretary o,£ State James Blaine and met in Washington, D. C. At that meeting eighteen countries were represented. The major achievement of the meeting was the permanent establishment of the Bureau of American Repµblics at Washington, D. C. After its reorganizati on at the Havana, Cuba, meeting in 1928, this bureau became known as the Pan American Union Today nine Pan American conferences have been held ' the most recent having taken place last April in Bogota, Colombia At that time the united effort toward peace and security of the Wes tern Hemisphere was further insured by the creation of a new Organization of American States . Under the charter of this organization a peaceful solution of controversies among any of the nations was agreed to a·s well as cooperative promotion of their economic , social, and cultural development.
As an ever-recurring reminder of these achievements of the Union , and its aims toward hemispherical understanding, has evolved the annual Pan American Day observance . Through a resolution, adopted by the Governing Board of the Union in 1930, a date was designated for an observance to be known as Pan American Day in all the Republics of America. This day was established as " a commemorative symbol of the sovereignty of the American nations and the voluntary union of all in one continental community." April 14 , the date of adoption of the resolution creating the Pan American Union, was selected as Pan American Day . By the signing of this resolution the member Republics of the Union agreed to designate that date annually as Pan American Day and to display their national flags.
With this resolution in mind, during the past week we of the University of Richmond have joined our neighbors to the South in an enjoyable observance of the ever growing bonds of unity and (Next P age)
[ 15]
brotherhood. During this time the very atmosphere of the campus has been permeated with an awareness of Pan Americanism. Now, more than at any other time in the year, students, faculty, and visitors have become more familiar with the countries and peoples of the Pan American Union-their customs, crafts, native art, songs , dances, and various other phases of their culture .
To the strumming of lively guitars, amid colorful booths, serenading minstrels, and the distinctly Spanish-Americ~n carnival atmosphere of fiesta, Pan American Week was climaxed on Thursday evening, April 14. This was Pan American Day. Gay senoritas and senors enjoyed the featured skit, "Recordar es Vivir," or ("To Remember is to Live " ), presented by a group of Spanish students from Florida State University. These visitors to the campus were accompanied by Dr. Lincoln Canfield, noted linguist and lecturer, whoin the students met as Convocation speaker on Thursday mornmg.
Who is the symbol of Pan Americanism? A band of travellers joined the audience at the fiesta in their search for Miss Pan America . One by one the festively bedecked senoritas from each of the Latin American countries were presented to the wanderers. Finally, they saw the lovely lady embodying the spirit of Pan Americanism. From the crimson rose in her hair to the lacy ruffles at her feet, every touch of her costume revealed some message of what she symbolizes. It was she who reigned over the fiesta-Queen of music, song, and dance-the outward expression of an inward warmth of friendship and understanding which exists between the nations and peoples she represents.
As Pan American Week thus comes to an end, those on campus who have attended the activities will have gained a more vivid understanding of the Americas. They will be able to look back to the dreams of South America 's Bolivar and San Martfn-dreams which paralleled those of our own Washington and Lincoln-and realize the true meaning of Pan Americanism. With the confident faith of these men they, too, will be able to look toward a future when this spirit will permeate the world.
-JOANNE
From Gun Turrets to Witchcraft
(Continu ed fr om p ag e 11)
times called, and the musical comb. He accompanies himself on the tom-tom. This was also taught to him by his Old Mammy. He added, as a note of interest, that she is now 142 years old and still has the features of a beautiful young girl. He seems to feel that her age , in addition to the fact that she is half Irish and half Balinese, might account in part for her great wisdom of supernatural, as well as natural, powers.
I could see that Prof. Maner was eager to return to work on his novel, which is, incidentally, something entirely revolutionary in literary style. There have been novels written with no punctuations ; however, realizing the lack of desirability and practicability of this, his is to be made up solely of punctuations I understand that it will bear a marked resemblance to a manual on Morse code . Not wishing to delay his work .any further , I brought the interview to a close and departed from his office, awed by the unknown side of his genius which heretofore has been unnoticed and unacclaimed.
Abner Scott loved Sophie Simpkins, a spinster, but never had courage enough to propose , being invariably overwhelmed with shyness when he met her. At las• t he determined to put his fate to the test and phoned her.
"Miss Simpkins? "
" Miss Simpkins speaking ."
"Er-will you marry me, Miss Simpkins? " "Yes! Who is speaking? "
- Th e Arr owhead.
Frosh: " Say, what do you repair these shoes with? "
Cobbler: "Hide. "
Frosh: "Hide? Why should I hide?' '
Cobbler : " Hide, hide! The cow ' s outside. "
Frosh: "Let her come in. I'm not afraid "
- Th e Point er.
WARING.
" This pen leaks," said the convict , as the rain came through the roof.
-El Burro.
[ 16]
During the time I have been at this institution, I have noticed that the professor who comes in lat e is rare: in fact, he is in a class by himself.
-Virginia Tech. Engineer.
Anniversary Waltz
(Continued from page 12)
satin dress rushed across the floor and grabbed him around the neck. Her hair was bright red, too bright to be natural; her cheeks rivaled her hair for color.
"Vernon . . you don't know me! You are a scalawag. I'm Vanatta Vanatta Wooster." Mr. Tyndall's face suddenly became a light pink, and blended well with Vanatta's hair.
She and Mrs. Tyndall had been girlhood friends but hadn't seen each other for years, not since Vanatta "had become tainted and had that baby" as Mrs. Tyndall put it. Mr. Tyndall had secretly mailed her an invitation to spite his wife.
"Forgive me, Vanatta ... you remember Reverend Green, don't you?"
"Vanatta?" Reverend Green interrupted. "Oh ... of course Vanatta. You teach the girls in the intermediate class."
"Well, I used to years ago, but .. ." "
"Tut tut girl, don't be modest. I understand you are an excellent teacher. I only hope those girls can learn all that you teach."
"Excuse me, Reverend you too, Vernon, but there's Hanley Griggs in the dining room. I must speak to the dear boy." With that she patted Vernon's cheek and left.
"Nice girl," Reverend Green said. "She'll amount to something someday; she hasn't got an enemy in the world."
The dining room had become the most populated room in the house The champagne was going fast and Jenny anxiously watched the empty bottles as they mounted in the kitchen ''We shudda served beer to this crowd. They look like a bunch of carnival folks all dressed up in them clothes and painted up so. I guess they's all trying to look young like they did befo," she said to herself.
While all the guests were renewing acquaintances, Mrs. Tyndall was upstairs dressing for her dramatic appearance. Her two bridesmaids were with her, admiring her dress and telling her how well preserved she was. The two attendants were identical twins, or had been, but now one of them had grown very fat, while the other seemed to be wasting away. This was the one problem that had slipped Mrs. Tyndall's mind until they ~oth appeared that day in their green dresses lookmg very ridiculous.
"Nancy," Mrs. Tyndall motioned the fat one.
"Run downstairs and see if the flower girl has arrived. You remember her ... Mary Norton."
"I haven't seen that girl in years, Smyrna. I wouldn't know what she looked like to save me."
"Go ask anyway. You probably will be able to tell her by the way she's dressed. Hurry up ... I'm getting a li,ttle nervous."
Mrs. Nancy Carter picked up the hem of her dress before descending the stairway. "How am I supposed to know somebody I haven't seen in years? I don't know what she'll even be wearing." When she reached the bottom of the steps, she saw a girl that appeared to be in a white bathing suit. Her well shaped legs were bare except for white anklets. She had on patent leather low heel pumps. Mrs. Carter realized it wasn't a bathing suit when she drew closer but a dress made in the style of a small girl's.
"Are you Mary Norton?" she asked. She had noticed some flower petals in a basket over her arm.
"Why, yes, I am," the girl said to her.
"Forgive me my dear, but why are you dressed so scantily? I'm sure Mrs. Tyndall will be shockd " e
"The invitation said wear what I wore at the other wedding so here I am," ,the girl laughed.
"This is most ridiculous," Mrs. Carter said. "You look like a cigarette girl in a night club. I'm sure ... oh well it's too late now. Mrs. Tyndall wants you upstairs as soon as possible. She's getting a little nervous." Mary Norton hated to leave the party and the stares the men were giving her, but she set her champagne glass on the hall table and followed Mrs. Carter up the steps. Mr. Tyndall stood on the front porch with the door open. His eyes appraised Mary Norton's legs as she climbed the steps.
"Shhhhhhhh, the wedding music has started,'' Vanatta said.
Vanatta's shhhh seemed to echo around the room. Mrs. Dalton was playing the introduction to O Promise Me. Augusta Bainbridge stood by the piano with her hands clasped in front of her. Her neck was stretched forward to give her voice a better range. After clearing her throat daintily, she burst forth, enunciating her words clearly ... "Oa promisea mea .... "
Mr. Tyndall decided to make his way quietly over to the improvised altar. He nodded to the guests he had not to spoken to as he passed them. Antwerp was waiting for him at the altar. He and (Next Page)
[ 17]
Vernon nodded to each other. Mr. Tyndall thought that he was trying to hold back <J.laugh. Let him laugh; it wasn't h1,s idea to have this stupid party. Jenny was lighting the candles.
"We's redy to start, ain't we," she winked. "It's a good thing too, cause all de shampain's gone."
Mr. Tyndall adjusted his tie nervously. It would be over soon. The palms of his hands were warm and damp. Looking around the room, he saw Rev. Green pushing back the crowd, walking toward him.
"I never did find Mrs. Landis," Reverend Green whispered to him. He nodded to Antwerp Brandon. "Got the ring?" Antwerp smiled since he didn't understand what the preacher said. Rev. Green took this to be an affirmative answer.
Silence followed Augusta Bainbridge's rendition of O Promise Me. Then Mrs. Dalton got up, adjusted her piano stool, fixed her glasses, and sat back down. She cleared her throat which seemed to be some so.rt of a signal and began the wedding marcih. Mary Norton's legs appeared at the top of the steps. With each step downward, she became more m view.
"If this were twenty-five years ago, I'd make a run for it. ... I never did love Smyrna .... I don't even know why I married her in the first place .... H I had known then what I know now ... do this Vernon ... do that wear your rubbers Vernon ... please Vernon .... "
Mary Norton was sprinkling her flower petals over the carpeted floor. Muffied laughs and champagne giggles echoed around f1heroom.
"Damn fools ... I'd like to really give them something to laugh at. It would serve Smyrna right . . this damn grinning hyena beside me ought to take over now anyhow . . . he's the one that told Smyrna that I was in love with her. ... I won her from him, hell ... when he thought he was going to have to marry her, he sent her after me .... "
The two bridesmaids entered the room. Mrs. Dalton's tempo at the piano became faster with each note. The twins' marching step looked like that of Allied soldiers in a World War I newsreel. Mrs. Tyndall was a few feet behind them.
Her white satin dress was yellow with age. All the seams had been let out to allow for normal growth over twenty-five years. A white orchid on her shoulder was the only thing that looked fresh and young about her.
"The car's out front ... all my clothes are in it
... if I don't do it now, I'll never do it ... I can see the headlines now left at the altar after twentyfive years I'd be free ... I could even go to see Vanatta Wooster if I wanted to .... "
Mr. Tyndall rushed past his wife almost knocking her down.
"Vernon! Vernon Tyndall! What are you doing? Come back here!" Mrs. Tyndall rnlled.
Mr. Tyndall almost stopped but instead he put his hands over his ears and ran to the door. The car started easy. He didn't bother to take her bags out. He would mail them to her. He laughed a good genuine guffaw as he drove away from t:he curb.
The guests rushed out of the house in a moblike fashion. Most of them didn't realize what had happened; they ran because Mr. Tyndall did. Mrs. Tyndall fainted on the lawn. The twins were trying to revive her.
The car turned at the corner out of sight. 11he just married sign that Smyrna had made was swaying back and forth.
Antwerp Brandon stood on the lawn next to Mrs. Tyndall. Smyrna opened her eyes and stared ' at the twins.
"I did so want everything to be the same. I'm afraid the party was a flop."
-SAM PATTERSON.
"Dear Charlie, We should have been more careful for I am with Byrd. Love, Mabel."
[ 18}
Merry-Go-Round
(Continued from page 7)
of the peace, although how he was ever elected Newsom never could figure out ... Karen Whitney, an alcoholic who drank any time she could get it, which was most of the time. At parties, atter taking on a load, she changed into a raging tigress, kicking and spitting and someone would have to take her home .... Hugh Marshall, up and coming young lawyer specializing in divorce cases and dabbling in state politics on the side Priscilla Ashby, oversexed, plump widow who cornered people to tell them how dearly she had loved her husband and that she never again, could possibly care for anyone else.
The night he married her . it was almost funny the way it happened. The crowd was getting liquored up and dancing in between drinks at the Forest Park Country Club, an exclusive place for the crowd on the outskirts of town. The place was an ornate establishment, embellished in tinsel, and it breathed of good living, its appeal centered in the brightness of its decorations, like the glitter of the lure that brings the trout to hook. Many years ago it had been the palatial home of Cyrus P. White, tycoon of the Connecticut Railroad Trust. White had willed it to his son who promptly lost it in bankruptcy action. It still looked somewhat like the mansion it had once been, only now the basement bar so dear to the heart of Cyrus had been torn out and a circular affair that rotated on an elevated platform like a merry-go-round (but more slowly) substituted.
Smiling Negro waiters, obsequious in their attention to the wants of The Crowd, served drinks, and that night Newsom didn't let any pass him by. The Crowd, the dear boys and girls-upon seeing him and Helen enter had descended upon them chattering, "Do let me order you a drink. What will you have, you ole rumhound you? Ha ha ha. You're certainly a card, Newsom. How many times has that Helen drunk you under the table? She's really something, isn't she? There she is now, dancing with Rombly. Just can't hold onto her, can you, old boy? Mighty popular, yoµ know, and God what a heavenly armful. But she does pick out the strangest men, meaning no offense to you old fellow."
"But I really think she feels something for you. She might even be in love with you, if she's capable of it, meaning no offense, but she's fickle you know and just doesn't give a hoot, if you'll pardon
the expression. Crowd's bored tonight. You can tell it, feel it in the air. Nothing new. The other day we were talking about the fact that maybe you two would get married and ... Say! Why don't you two get married? She's never been married, you know. Sort of like buying a bull when the woods are full of them .... But she's been going with you for ages, months at least. I know she would love it. She always did like to do cute and novel things. Why she just leads us into doing the silliest things sometimes.
"Rombly is a justice of the peace, you know, and he could do the ceremony right here at the club."
The marriage idea had started like that and the seed of it spread and grew on the crowd, nurtured in the fertile soil of alcohol unlimited. Helen was intrigued and slightly tipsy too, and she, as ever, was all set for the crowning lark of the year. "It will be in all the papers," she cried out delightedly, "and ever so many people will be terribly shocked. Especially father, and he even likes you, John. And really, John, I'm terribly in love with you. You' re so different. I never met anyone like you. Anyhow you' re good in bed, damn your soul. But that isn't the real reason, really it isn't, darling. It's more than that. I like you.
"We understand each other. We'll call it a trial marriage and what have we got to lose?"
And Newsom, feeling the bou11bon,a stranger to himself and at odds with the emotions that swept through him, engulfing his brain and heart, swept by desperate impulse to he knew not where, married his Mistress Helen of the Stokes Brass and Copper Works. I love you Mistress Helen of the Stokes Brass and Copper Works. You' re no good, but I love you and why I don't know. We are the cheapest clay that God could find and why we live is the big sixty-four dollar question. Give me your hand and here is mine and they are both cold, but we must hold each other for awhile to keep warm. Where this will end I don't know. My heart is still, my blood is cold, and I wish I could go back and be a child again ....
The marriage was hilarious. Rombly stood ramrod stiff and solemnly read the words that put them in the classification of respectable people. Behind him the merry-go-round bar turned slowly, never stopping, and Newsom had watched it with a strange sort of fascination and had wondered too ' ' where they had found The Bible which everybody demanded so that he and Helen could clasp hands (Co ntinued on page 22)
[ 19]
Bitter Fruit
Shy love came knocking gently at my heart
And bid me find a spot where he could hide
A while in peace, and not too soon depart Into the world whose scorn cast him aside. He was so sick from skeptics' ridicule
His trembling finger scarce could touch the catch . But I-0 blind and unforeseeing foolDenied him rest and swiftly drew the latch. I drove him on his way with mocking laugh; Then learned too late that love is friendship's food. The wheat was gone. I held the worthless chaff; Divorced from friends I wedded solitude. Though I still live on earth I know full well There is eternal loneliness in Hell.
-Mimi Thalenberg.
Life
Life is a shining silver cup Wherein are mingled joy and grief. Come, Youth, drink deeply-Bottoms up! The vessel's dear and Time's a thief.
-Mimi T halenberg.
True Love
Because you smile and raise your eyes, And "oo-h" at my adventurings, Or give a laugh when I imply So many little unsaid things; Because your lips intoxicateAs gay and light as midnight snow; Because you say you understand, I smile at all you do not know.
-N.C.B.
Pursuit
As the hunter gives chase to his quarry,
As the righteous seek heaven above, As "Why, that's all right" follows 'Tm sorry," So I fleetingly run after love.
As the sleek trout escaipes from the fish pole, As the clouds flee the winds in the sky, As the bright flame leaps up from the black coal, So love's constantly faster than I.
-Mimi T halenberg.
and indeed it is. Mary Ann Coates and Bud Burton are giving last minute instructions to Mr. E. Rabbit before stepping out to church themselves. Mary Ann has chosen a classic navy suit with unique detailing at collar and pocket . . highlighting it with a demure Quaker • bonnet of white straw, showered with tiny flowers. Bud wears a smartly tailored three-button style grey flannel suit, very apropos to the occasion. All fashions are from Miller and Rhoads.
[ 20]
' I,
Merry-Go- ~9uQ.d
They 'had pothing in common. She had co1:1e from the monied class and inherited personal m- (C o n t inu ed f rom p age 19) · h' b dependence and the ~lief that anyt mg was oover its black cover. It w~s the extra touch of tainable with money and constant pursuit. She besanctity. lieved, also, in,.experimentation, and her life had
There was much laughter and clapping and back-been one experiment after another, searching for slapping after it was over with He had taken the great unknown that would fill the void . And Helen, afterwards, to a downtown hot~!, and the Newsom himself, knowing that it had all started night clerk looked at them out of sleepy eyes and ostensibly as a " lark,'' : and dimly perceiving a horgave them their old .room with the southern ex-rible implication behind it all, remained with posure. . . . Helen. He no longer loved her as he once thought
When the market fell into the cellar a few h~ did-that too had changed . The only thing weeks later , hysteria quite out of keeping with prac-they shared together was the roof over them . It tical New England swept like a prairie Ere through seemed as though a great hand pressed them down the town of Glaston. The Stokes Brass and Copper and together and both were too tired to fight off Works , employing half the townspeople, told its a weary, wearing co-habitation that each day grew workers to go home, banked the coke furnaces , and nearer to naked hate . snapped shut the lock on the chain that secured They had moved from Glaston, the two of them , the factory gates. on the first of many changes of address. Newsom
Two weeks later the Works passed into the had saved some money out of the liberal salary hands of receivers and the next day the town news-Helen ' s father had paid him , and she had bitterly paper ' s front page lead slory announced t~e death parted with a diamond brooch, several strings of by suicide of Joshua P. Stokes, former president of pearls, and other personal loot she had garnered the Stokes Brass and Copper Works "who was from the family treasure pot. In addition, the huge found dead in a bedroom of his home this morn- Stokes home had been sold for a sizable sum and ing. Coroner R. J. Lyon -said the death clearly was after the creditors had been satisfied there rea case of suicide. A .32 cahber revolver, found mained several thousand for Helen . near the body, apparently was the death weapon. Newsom could not find work, however, like
"Survivors are his daughter, Mrs John Newsom , many other weary millions, and in a year the money who only recently was married, and. • • ." they had dwindled away He had known times
That was the first time he had ever seen Helen when there was no food to block the pangs of break. She had cried. bitterly in his arms all night hunger and on occasions Helen had disappeared and had topped it off the next day by sitting alone for days, leaving notes for him informing him in her room getting 1rqnker than she had ever that she would be back, that she had gone to visit been since he had known her. He had felt th at she relatives. He always wondered about that and was ashamed she had allo~ed a genuine sentiment they argued and fought until finally there was to come through. ' nothing more to be said.
That had been seven years ago, or abo~t th ~t, The coming of Tim he laid down as a miracle and strangely enough Helen had stayed ':'1th h11n of God for which he was forever thankful. If he ,•those seven year~. •But the sudden change i nvol ved ever wondered if the child were his, he never said in being just plam ~rs. l?h~ Newsom, with lit,~e '~ so but was content just to have the child. Helen ·_money and no prestige, hit her h~rd She w~s 1. e £ had not wanted it and after Tim was born her feela Queen Bee plucked from her hive and exiled m / h d h d lar{d of ice and srio;.,. · mgs a not c ange · b ' .k . h · l I' h ' h' h h had de-Small thuddmg sounds, of o Jects stn mg t e Her apparent ove ror 1m w lC s e . . d N , dared ~an times in the first days of their marriage wall of the kitchen, mterrupte ewsom :,, had flicker:d ,a:nd s uttered through the years. He thoughts. Tim h_ad a bag of :11arbles on t~e floor could never u~de!tand the forces which had and was industriously thumpmg them agamst the brought them together for certainly an abyss never baseboard. to be bridged ·separated them. They had met and Newsom !ooked at his w~tch, and was surpn sed married in the hey-day of the Twenties, slept to-to see that 1t was almost six o clo~k. It was time gether, ate together, but both knew there were no to eat, and, as he had done ~any times bef~re, he real ties that held them to each other set about preparing the evenmg meal for himself
[ 22]
and the boy.
While they were eating he plied Tim with questions on all the topics supposedly dear to the heart of a youngster. He discussed with his son the relative merits of a two-stick kite as compared with the three-stick and box kites, and imparted to the youngster the valuable knowledge that the threestick variety would fly higher and was steadier in a high wind. But the box kite, Tim learned, was the king of them all. It was, Newsom told the attentive boy, the sturdiest of all kites, could fly to almost unlimited altitudes, and in other respects was truly without peer in the kite kingdom. He revealed to his son the mysterious intricacies involved in the construction of the box kite and the principles which made it a "master in the sky."
Newsom was pathetically eager to have his son like him , and since the time of the boy's birth had diligently cultivated the youngster's need for love and companionship.
Tim was irritable and uneasy with his mother. She did for him no more than was necessary, and the father had gladly filled the resulting void in the boy's life. Each day after Newsom came home from work (he had held a steady job as a bookkeeper for the past two years) he and Tim spent long hours. together. Sometimes Newsom read to the boy tales of lusty adventure, or fairy stories, or about the days of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. At other times they would take long walks together to the outskirts of the city and through the woods ...
Tonight, after completion of the meal, they drifted into the living room, and for two hours News.om read to his son the adventures of Roland and Charlemagne and the wars against the Saracens.
At nine Helen returned, a fact loudly heralded by the slamming of a car door in front of the house, tittering laughter , and repeated goodnights.
When she entered not a word passed between the two. She swept past them to the bedroom and removed her hat and coat. Then she went to the kitchen. He continued° reading to the boy ten min ~ utes longer, then closed the book and looked down at his son, sitting at his feet, nodding sleepily.
"Your bedtime, Timmy," he said. "And tomorrow night I'll read you the greatest story of them all-all about apes. and lions and gorillas." He hugged the boy close for a moment. "And son, your mother will never beat you again. I promise," he whispered. "Never again."
After he had put the boy to bed, he walked to the doorway of the kitchen and stood looking silently at his wife. She did not look in his direction, but continued pouring coffee into a cup on the table.
''I've got news. for you," he said.
"Really? What is it?" she asked, the tone of her voice implying exaggerated dis.interest.
"We're leaving here next week. I've got another job."
"Where are we going? And what kind of a job have you got this time? Another mousy bookkeeping job?"
"No. It's a good job. In Glaston. With the old firm-the Stokes Brass and Copper Works. Same job. Assistant Office Manager."
"Why didn't you tell me about this before, " she demanded, irritated that he had planned to move, angry because he stood there watching her, poker faced, hating him because he was John Newsom, cold and immovable toward her now, but disgustingly tolerant, wise, worshipping his son Tim.
"I didn't know about it until today. That is, I wasn't sure," he said slowly. "I heard they were reopening the factory so I wrote a letter to the people who took it over and asked for my old job back. I got the answer today. That's. all. We can leave here next week. I've already given my notice at the old job and what furniture and other stuff we have can be shipped by truck . There isn't much to ship, really."
Eight days later the Newsoms. moved away from the street of old and sagging houses, as Newsom privately named it, and boarded a train for Glaston, two hundred miles distant. Helen slept most of the way, curled up on the seat next to the window, her flowing red hair in sharp contrast with the green of the upholstery.
"She's still beautiful," Newsom thought. "Almost like she was the day I married her. Seven years. Any other man would have killed her or left her within two. Why didn't I? Why didn't I? Or why didn't she? She could have pulled out of it anytime or I could have.
"Hell," he sighed. "Both of us. must be 'getting old."
He glanced at Tim, sitting on the seat between them. The boy was paying supreme interest to the orderly countryside flashing by. Another year or so and he would have to send Tim to school, then to college if he could find the money. Then maybe
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Tim would marry, only it would be, well, someone nice, someone sincere, someone who smiled because the world was beautiful and not quite rotten all the way through yet.
The sun was dipping close to the horizon, casting golden light into remote corners of the coach as they neared Glaston. Newsom reached over and shook Helen gently.
"We're here," he said.
He rose stiffly from the seat and took a terribly sleepy Tim by the hand, feeling in hls coat pocket with his free hand for the baggage checks.
In the station near the telegraph desk Newsom stopped and turned to Helen, following closely behind. "Here are your baggage checks," he said.
"Aren't you getting the luggage?"
Newsom looked at her, not seeing the puzzled expression on her face. Over her shoulder, on the telegraph desk, a miniature merry-go-round slowly revolved. Big blue letters~ set off against a backdrop of light, turned with the toy, forming words that told of the wonderful climate and beauties to be seen if one went West-by train, of course.
"Aren't you getting the luggage?" Helen repeated.
"Yes," he said, 'Tm getting the luggage, but just mine and Tim's. I'm leaving you, Helen. Something I should have done long ago, only I guess I didn't have guts enough to. We're back where we started from, even Stephen. This may be sort of melodramatic or something, but I had the i,dea that if I brought you back to here it would be like putting the final period to a chapter, with no loose ends flapping around to worry me later on.
"The only difference in you is seven years. You' re still very attractive and you have friends here, I hope. Here are some papers drawn up by a friend of mine-a lawyer. All you have to do is use them and you've got your divorce."
Newsom turned quickly and walked away, still holding Tim's hand. The boy did not look back at his mother, standing silently, and, strangely enough, rather forlornly in the smoky station.
"Look at that merry-go-round over there, Pop," Tim yelped excitedly, pointing to the telegraph desk. "Did you ever ride a merry-go-round, Pop?" he asked.
-CHARLES S. TAYLOR, JR.
Morning is the time of day when the rising generation retires and the retiring generation rises.
-The Watattgan.
HORSE STORY
Once upon a time, a very average looking individual went out and purchased a horse for $200. He then engaged a penurious veterinarian to take the horse up to his fourth-floor apartment, shoot the luckless animal, and place it in the bathtub.
After he had done the foul deed, the perplexed pill-peddler became a wee bit curious. "Just why did you pay me to kill a perfectly good $200 horse and put it in your bathtub?" he asked.
"I don't know that it's any of your business," replied the employer, "but it's this way: You see, my name's Joe. Every night when my roommate comes home from work, he asks me the very same question: "Whaddya know, Joe?" I never know a damn thing. Tonight, I'm gonna tell him that there's a dead horse in the bathtub and watch his reaction."
-The Watattgan.
A canny young fisher named Fisher
Once fished from the edge of a fissure.
A fish with a grin
Pulled the fisherman in-
N ow they' re fishing the fissure for Fisher.
-Colorado Dodo.
"He wants to know why he isn't Angora."
The polar bear sleeps in his little bear skin, And he sleeps quite well I am told. Last night I slept in my little bare skin, And I caught a hell of a cold.
-The Wataugan.
Lady Visitor: "Do you sailors wash your own clothes on shipboard?"
Smart Sailor: "No , lady. We just throw them overboard and •they're washed ashore."
-The Southern Collegian.
Soph: "W hat's your greatest ambition?"
Frosh: "To die a year sooner than you."
Soph: "What's the reason for that?"
Frosh: "So I'll be a sophomore in hell when you get there."
-Mis-A-Sip.
STAFF
Editor-in-Chief .................... PEGGY HARRI S
Westhampton College Editor ... JOYCE PARRISH
Law School Editor ....... .. HAROLD FLAX
Richm ond College Editor NELSON WEBER
Assistant W estha111pto11Editor BETTY CATHER
Assistant Richmond College Editor ....... BILL WILLS
Exchange Editor ................. WALLY McGRAW
Poetry Editor N. CARL BAREFOOT
Feat11reEditors ........ JEAN BISHOP, WALT MAHON
Fiction Editor CHARLES TAYLOR, JR
Publicity Manager ................... DON WILSON
Co11tactStaff .. BARBARA COVINGTON, MIMI ANDERSON, HARRIET LAMM, LIZ PAHNELAS, ANNE BREHME
Art Staff LOUISE TRIPLETT, ANN WILEY
Editorial Staff ...... CHESTER BECK, SAM PATT!,RSON
Layout ... .. BOBBY RODEWALD
Co-ed: "Oh, Prof, whatever do you think of me now that I've kissed you?"
Prof: "You'll pass."
Published in Ottoher, December , February, April und )lay by CniYers it , of Richmond Puh lic-ation s, l 11,·oq>m·ated. Right is rescrYed to altt>r co~t rihut ioll 8 to meet puhli<·at ion requ ir, mE>nts. A l1 <·ommu Hie at io118 should he a<ldressP1l to rrH ,; ~\i i ..::;:•n::-Ju1.-;n.,\Vesthnrnplon Co llegP , Box 3n:1, Universi t y of l{ ic hmond , Virginia. Member Virginia Intercollegiate Press Association
-Mis-A-Sip.
Then there was the moron who sprayed his garden with alcohol so he could raise stewed tomatoes.
-Virginia Tech. Engineer.
The burglar, finding the lady m the bath, covered her with his revolver.
-Columns.
It is all right to tell a girl that she has pretty ankles, but don't compliment her too highly.
-Emily Post.
QUESTIONS
A
B
C
Just find the key, throw out the E, And add Blue Grass to fleur-de-lis.
A cheerful mien encircled as seen: A doubter of fame, that's most of my name. The leading three in this basic series, Contain advice that's better than theories.
ANSWERS WILL APPEAR IN THE NEXT ISSUE OF YOUR MAGAZINE
LAST MONTH'S ANSWERS & WINNERS
A The word THREE is composed of five letters and they're all found in CHESTERFIELD.
B Chesterfields in the pack, 3 E's in Chesterfield, 3 x 3=9. One E in R~ALITY
C Biscuit=muffin; Change M to R and you get Ruffin, the home of Van W. Daniel. WINNERS
Chesterfield Contest Winners
Bill Gravitt, Melvin L. Segal, James Carver, Jr., Robert Lawther, Robert M. Stone, Woodland Deringer, R. C. Tutwiler, George Tutwiler, Dimmock Jenkins, Warren Mann.
