UNIVERSITYOF RICHMOND
FEBRUARY,1943
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UNIVERSITY OF RICHMOND
Editor-in-Chief
ALLISTER MACKENZIE
Westhampton College Co-Editors
ROSE KOL TUKIAN ANNE BYRD TUCKER
Associate Editors
PAT VELENOVSKY
BEN RouzIE
LOUISE WILEY
FRANCES ELLIS
Fiction Editors
PAT VELENOVSKY JOHN FIELD BATTE
LOUISE WILEY
Non-Fiction Editors
JACK ZUBER JEN LEA GUTHRIE
Poetry Editors
ROBERT PAINE
BEN Rouzrn
FRANCES ELLIS
FRANCES KENNARD
Art Staff
JAMES BANKS FRANCES BEAZLEY
Business Managers
JAMES WORSHAM LOIS KIRKWOOD
V OL. L FEBRUARY, 1943 No. 3
T humbnails
Rouzie is a member of the staff now, consequently his story gets to be included. Steiglieder' s story had been hanging around the office so long that we finally decided to clear it out Friedenberg's burlesque of Saroyan is printed because Friedenburg has the reputation of being a good writer. We hope this story won't be too subtle for you. We understand several of you are in need of a little ready cash. Our questionnaire this time offers you a very delightful opportunity. . . . To keep the complaints from mounting too high we secured Mr. Nettle's services in the writing of the air raid watchers story. . . . In keeping with our policy of publishing anonymous stories, we are including the one that carrie in this time. We gave some space to Miss Apperly, because she so well expresses the sentiments of the editor. Russinoff asked so sweetly that we just couldn't turn him
Lillian Belk
Harriett Lewis
Margaret C. Clark
( In dedicating this issue of the MESSENGERto those who serve as air raid watchers, we invited Mr. J.E. Nettles, chief of the University of Richmond Observation Post, to write our editorial.)
Those who have said good-bye to the scores of University of Richmond men who have left for the ·wars have searched their own souls to find the answer to the question whether they are justified in remaining in school while their brothers already are in action on the battlefields.
The answer is a qualified, "yes." As President Boatwright said in his recent address to the Richmond College student body, each man's life is not his own but his country's. He must do his country's bidding-there or here. He also serves who sharpens in classroom and in laboratory the intellectual weapons which will help in winning the war. His duty is to stay where he is until his country calls him to active service.
He who accepts deferment and shirks his duty on the home front is as much a traitor to his country as the man who "goes over the hill" in the army, the soldier who shirks his duty in a time of national peril. In peace times you are answerable to yourself, to your professors, and to your parents for sloppy work. Today the "playboy" student breaks faith with his brother already in arms-the man who is fighting in order that you may have time to study a little longer. It is a worthwhile sacrifice if his blood buys for you the knowledge that will make you a better soldier when the call comes for you to replace him on the field of battle. But how will you answer him if his sacrifice provides for you only extra lei?ure in the tavern, or a cozy chair beside the fire ?
There's work to be done. In the classroom and on the home front as a civilian-soldier. Since December 7, 19 41, that "day which will live in infamy," citizen-soldiers in the University of Richmond, men and women, have been on duty in the Airplane Observation Post. Of the scores who have stood the lonely watches many are now in the armed services and on far distant battle fronts. As they moved up from citizen-soldier to fighting sol-
<lier, sailor, or marine, their posts on the home front were taken over by the students they left behind.
As the Richmond College ranks grew thinner, depleted by the call to the colors, Westhampton College women, already busy on other home fronts, moved into the breach. Asking no favors, they have carried on in fair weather and in foul. Theirs have been daylight watches and their participation in the service has made it possible for Richmond College men to devote their attention to the hours from dusk to dawn.
Each passing week has brought an increase in the number of women watchers who, under the banner of the War Council, have helped compensate on the home front for the loss of manpower to the armed forces. Each week also has brought new Richmond College volunteers to replace men called into the service.
Seldom are heard the old excuses:
( 1) I haven ' t the time.
(2) I don't believe it's necessary. We'll never be bombed.
Good soldiers ha ve the time to do their duty Good soldiers do what their commander tell s them to do. Yes, it's as simple as that. The person who says, "I haven 't time," would find he had ample time if the job atop the Chemistry buildin g paid five dollars an hour. It's the busy man who finds time to take on an additional load while th e lazy man forever pleads lack of time.
To the amateur strategist who says he doesn 't believe it necessary to watch for enemy airplanes , there can be several answers. It should be sufficient, however, to point out that our military command considers it necessary. None of the eleve n University of Richmond men who died in the service of his country was given an opportunity to say whether he considered the action, or the maneuve r in which he died a necessary one. He wasn't asked . He was told. The First Fighter Command says to the soldiers on the home front that it is of vita l importance that these posts be manned. Good sol-
diers will consider that sufficient reason for doing their duty.
As a matter of fact, it can be demonstrated that an intelligent soldier-citizenry, reporting movem ents of hostile planes can be of inestimable value to our fighter command. Precious minutes saved in l ocating and making contact with the enemy can m ean the difference between an unsuccessful Germ an, Italian, or Japanese mission and one which would take a toll of thousands in lives and mill ions in dollars. The flying time between our camp us and the military objectives at Norfolk , Newp ort News and Langley Field can be measured in m inutes. Five minutes saved in reporting the hostile planes might mean the saving of a shipyard or naval base. An attack upon these objectives is no t likely, of course Nor was it likely that those yellow " ? ! ? " ! ? would attack at Pearl Harbor. T hen it was a sneak attack , a cowardly attack fr om behind a flag of truce. But there's nothing in the rules to keep our enemies from bombing us now. We deserve what we get if we are caught flat-footed again
What could we tell our men in the armed service if we should fail in our duty on the home front? If they can work at war every waking moment with the ha zard great and the discomforts many , dare we confess that we just couldn ' t be bothered with the job of protecting our homeland while they wer e fighting for us on foreign soil ?
It's not a job for somebody else to do. The responsibility is ours and we must meet the challenge. The post has been in operation since Pearl Harbor and it will remain in operation until the last gun sounds in this all-out war. Whether the job is to be done by comparatively few persons working many hours or by many persons working few hours will prove the real measure of our patriotism.
More than SOUniversity of Richmond men and women have received the blue and gold armbands which signify 25 hours of service That's the minimum requirement. Some of the watchers who have been members of the post since its organization have worked more than 200 hours. Many of them know what it is to obey the insistent alarm clock on bitter cold mornings when it would be much more comfortable to lie in bed.
They are the men, they are the women who are looking for the patriotic way rather than the easy way. They are the men and the women who are doing what their country bids them do on the home front while their brothers are giving the full measure of their patriotism on the foreign field.
Battle-shattered ranks must be filled by new recruits on the fighting front. So too must our shattered ranks on the home front be replenished by civilian-soldiers Volunteers are needed for the observation post.
What are y ou doing to win this war?
By BEN ROU Z IE
THE fat woman settled on her arches at the neckwear counter and picked up a yellowand-violet-and-green crav a t. She twisted the haberdashery sin about her forefinger and extended it a t arm's length , and then she mussed it like a guest napkin and picked up another.
" Can I help you today?" the young salesman asked.
She was delving into the innards of the cravat as a small boy claws into a bag of assorted candy Her hand came out stretching the loosely woven lining , which she left exposed like an improper area of bare skin. She reached for a creation in royal blue and pea green.
"Something today?" the salesman asked.
"No," she said to the necktie in her hand , " just looking. "
The salesman straightened his own tie and smiled commercially at her brow.
"These are fine neckties," he told her. "I wear 'em myself. Tie ' em over and over again and they stay like new. Just can't kill 'em."
As if selecting a chocolate, the fat woman plucked another tie from the orderly rack. She practiced tying various knots and pulling them too tight.
"And only one ninety-eight!" the salesman told her in the marvelling tone that serves to introduce the price of every item in the store . For the first time, the fat woman looked at him.
"One-ninety-eight!" she threatened him.
"Why yes, only one-ninety-eight ," he said. "I think that's mighty reasonable for a necktie of this kind , don't you?"
She didn't.
"But the sign here says one -fifty ," she said as she flaunted the cravat toward a small placard that faced the aisle . "That says one-fifty . What' re you
doing trying to tell me you get one ninety-eight for these things?"
' Tm sorry, Madam," the sal esman explained , "bu t that must be a mistake. The real price isonly one-ninety-eight."
The fat woman looked from the salesman to the placard and back to the salesman , who posed a subtle cringe The fat woman was posing Outraged Womanhood. She was thinking.
"Well I'm sorry, " she began, "but the sign says one-fifty and I'm going to get this necktie for onefifty. That's the law! "
The young man was colorlessly apologetic. "That's true," he told her sorrowfully. "The mistake is mine, and nobody else can be blamed for it. It's a disgraceful mistake . However, if you insist on claiming this cravat for one-fifty I must pay the difference. It'll only come out of my pocket. "
"You ought to be more careful, " she advised . "Wrap it up and I'll take it with me."
Sadly he rolled the cravat, placed it in an envelope, and gave her fifty cents in change for a two-dollar bill. He surrendered the envelope as hi s sword.
' Tm sorry ," she gloated.
" Come back and see us," he said automatically The young man rearranged the cravats on thei r rack and sat vertically against the cash register The floor walked was approaching the counter.
"How' re your sales today? " the diplomat asked the clerk.
"Fine," the clerk told him. " Very good. Sales are fine. "
" That psychology you ' re studying out at th e university must be a pretty big help," the floor walker reckoned. "I don ' t see how you can sell so many of these monstrosities at one-fifty. "
(Here is a vital message to all of us, but especially to the college women. Are you doing your utmost to help in the winning of the war and the preservation of all you have been taught to value? Few of you see and comprehend fully and clearly exactly what is going on around you outside your school world. Many of yo~ are too inclined to shut yourselves up in your books and willfully rem ain oblivious to what is happening beyond your l imited range of vision. It is your duty and your trust to keep the home front safe and strong for the men who are giving their lives for you.
So, college girls, consider carefully and seriously the plea that Secretary Morgenthau makes to you in his letter below . His request is so little, but so important!)
Office of the Secretary
Fundamentally , this is a young man's war. But in many important ways this is also a young woman's war -young women in uniform and young women in overalls; young women in field an d factory, in office and hospital.
You as young college women have a definite pa rt to play in this crisis. For even in the classroom, today's Total War is not merely academic. It is actual.
Young women students, everywhere, are keenly aware of the facts of the war; they must also be alert to the way in which those facts affect them as women and as students . They must recognize th e unpleasant fact that a Totalitarian triumph would destroy their very freedom to attend the college of their choice.
They have a tremendous stake in the war; for if we were to lose it, they would lose their future, and youth deeply deserves a future. They also ha ve a service to perform and they are performing it with their characteristic enthusiasm and determination. I know that, for my own daughter, a
college sophomore , tells me of the many war services her classmates are rendering.
One thing you can all do is to buy War Bonds and Stamps Perhaps you cannot invest vast sums of money. But you can invest an appropriate share of all you receive or earn . And as you invest this money you will also be investing your own sacrifice and self-respect. In a practical and patriotic way , you will be uniting scholarship and citizenship.
You will also be investing in the future. Youth has always depended on the future. Today the future depends on Youth.
HENRY MORGENTHAU, JR. , The Secretary of the Treasury.
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By LILLIAN BELK
Young voices calling through the lonely night .. .
Go tell the glories of your heroes bold
Who at Bataan and Wake and Guam did fight
Or braved the desert's sand and Artie cold.
Your sons they were who dared the clouds and sea Was it in vain they suffered death and pain, Or will their deeds secure the victory?
What do you tell them, those who do remain?
They hear the roar of the machine gun nest,
The drone of airplane motors , marching feet.
Give them your pledge that as you face your test
You will not shrink nor ever feel retreat;
Let sacrifice of all be love's reply, Assuring them a nation hears their cry!
By HARRIETT LEWIS
Oh let me dream a summer day is nigh ,
No cares exist save those we would not trade.
Oh let me frown for fear of cloudy sky
That forecasts rain to picnics mentally laid
Oh let me lay my head upon your lap,
And worry that the sun will burn my face,
And let me feel your fingers gently tap
Upon my brow to give a fly a chase.
Oh let me feel your kisses in my hair
To sent away a tear I could not fight , When foolish quarrels brought a wave of fear
And you were kind and made me see the light.
Oh let these peacetime trifles once more reign,
And bring the joys that we once knew again
By MARGARET C. CLARK
A fleeting dream once brightened all The world, then faded, leaving only dim, Grim twilight filled with distant thundering Of guns and mocking laughter from the throat Of death . And, hidden somewhere in the dark, Under the wreckage of his foolish pride , Lay that lost spirit-freedom-which had slid Between man ' s careless fingers long before. At first the loss had seemed minute, but soon The tendrils of insidious fear had bound
A strong, fine snare of terror on his heart. Pursued by death, man vainly groped among The rotting stacks of bone and flesh, and not Until he found the mangled body of His liberty did light creep through the gloom And glide on noiseless feet across the rows Of trampled dead.
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By HENRY R. STEIGLIEDER
TO look at me now , you wouldn ' t think that I ever made good dough. But I did-les' see -back in the nin' ies, I believe. Yeh , that's it. I wuz working for ol' Won Toe Los Yea, he w as a Chinkie , but at times he wu z a g ood guy I can see m ' self now, chief chef an' makin ' twent y p er- that wu z good cash back in them days-in h is Chinese food joint.
I can see the day I got that job too , just like it wu z yest' dy I has jus ' lost me job as dish-washer in a grease joint back in 'Frisco , and wu z walkin ' slowly along when I see ' is sign adverti zin ' fer a cook . It was a nifty looking little joint, even if it did belong to a Chinkie , and kno w in' a little about g rub rustlin ', I g oes in. I ken see that Yello w Gu y st andin ' there beside the register now, just like he a lw u z did. Well I ups to 'im and after a lot o' bull in ' I gets ' im to try me fer a week or two W ell, I made good , and I kep the job until his joint burns down-but ' at ' s ahead of m' story
From the first I ken see dat this Chinkie is a peculiar ' un. He must' a been in a good humor when I g ot me job , ' cuz that wu z the best side I seen o f ' um . They say that he us ' t' a be a g ood guy , good as any Chinkie could be. Anyway it seems that it wu z li ttle Molly that made 'im a success Who wu z M olly ? ' O , I fergot t' tell yuh
She was a cute slip of a girl , not pretty , but easy on the eyes. It seems that she wu z the first ' un that th e old man got to work in ' is joint. She h a d the Iri sh name of Molly McCoy , and she deserved it too, ' cuz she really had a temper. Well she wu z on e o' these dirty strawberry blonds- y' know , looks like they fergit t' wash their hair. An ' besid' s she had a good figger. I ken see ' er no w seatin' the customers and takin ' their orders in 'er wi tt y manner. She looked good in that little tight fittin ' green dress she wore. It show' d her beauty of t ' an advantage , and she always wore it , no ma tter how dirty it wu z. An ' she sort of had p inched feat' res 'an a smallish upturn ' d nose, but th ey made 'er sort of cute lookin ' . She wore a little too much rouge fer a nice girl , but she look' d good
in ' t. She had a gift o' gab, tho', 'an ' at ' s what made 'er nifty.
Well , its like I says, it wuz her that made the little joint a success. Now don ' t get me wrong, I don ' t mean nothin ' like that-tha Chinkie wuz on th ' up and up so fer as I knows-but it wuz her gab ' at got ' em. Yep tha customers jus' rolled in, kep me plenty busy too. Fact is I hadda get two Chinkies to help me durin' th' rush hours.
It's like I said tho' 'bout her makin' th' busines ' a success. Y ' see, th' old man would come early in th' mornin ' , and we would both open up th' joint. She' d git there 'bout seven and we ' d git the early customers. Well th' Chinkie would stay around 'til th ' lunch rush wu z over and then leave. He'd come back at night fer th' supper rush and leave agin ' . He al ways did it, they say, ever since he hired little Molly Well that's why his business grows. Y'see little Molly would take the customers , them that was her friends, y' understan' , to th ' little booths . She'd make ' em feel at home, and o ' course they alwuz bought a lot o' fancy food then since it wu zn ' t meal time. O' course this is where th' old gent made ' is dough , cu z ' at stuf' sells high So ya cud say ' at her takin' in her guys like ' at made tha old Chinkie what ' e wuz. O 'course he knew she did it , but he never said nothin, cu z ' e wu z smart 'nough to see she wuz boostin ' his business.
Well just like at , his joint g rew from a dirty little slop house to a nifty little joint, for a Chink's joint 'a t 'is 'E never moved, but he fixed up a nifty eatin ' room fer customers, and several private rooms fer lovers and sich Yeah, and he fixed up the front with no tables, jist a counter where he stood and took up th ' cash fer th ' food and sold ciga rs an' small stuf' lik ' ' at. I ken see it now, all Chink stuff ' cept for a big coal oil lamp on th' counter. Yep , a n ' ' e even got a great big glass winder, just lik ' the best places An' ' e even got insurance fer th' place Anyone could tell that be ' cus o' all the fire extinguishers 'round the place wit "Main Casualty and Fire Insurance Co ." plas-
[ 7 J
tered all over 'em. Den, they say, 'e hired me. Yep, I added class to his joint. Y' understan' not fer my cookin' exactly, but 'cus I was a white guy.
Well 'e seemed to take in th' dough, and he never seemed to spend it 'cept on Satt' dy night when he'd go out an' git drunk. I never seen it fail. Then he'd come back, mean as hell, and 'bout one o'clock we'd git our pay-as we alwuz kept open 'til one on Satt' dy night 'cuz in dose three 'ours 'e could make good dough since everybuddy 'ad it. Well this kep' up, week after week, an' I didn't mind, cuz I like my likker too, an' I hate to say anythin' 'gainst a drinkin' man. Little Molly didn't either, 'cuz she could handle herself with the best o' 'em.
Well this keeps on, but every week 'e seems to be gittin' meaner an' meaner. It's like I said, this Chinkie used to be a good un', but it seems 'at th' money went to 'is head and everyday 'e gets worse and worse. In fact they say that he wuz gittin' to be a damn bore. Sort of prissy he got too, and peculiar, but th' customers still came, but only 'cuz o' Molly. Well we keeps on 'til one Satt' dy night 'e don't come in. Even when one t'irty comes 'round 'e ain't there. So we closes up and I takes Molly home.
0 _yeah, I didn't tell ya' but I used to take 'er home every nite. I sort' a liked her I reckon, but she sort o' looked on me lik' a father. I used t' walk and talk to 'er and we would walk around the park and then on to her dirty little home. I found out a lot about her but 'at don't have nothin' to do wit th' story. We used to talk o' the Chink and maybe o' settin' up a business o' our own some day, cuz she knew dat' she wuz the main bill-o'fare in th' joint. But we niver did, God knows why we didn't, 'cuz I wouldn't be a bum today if we had a'!
Well Sunday mornin' 'e gives us hell fer quittin' 'fore 'e had come, but we didn't pay no 'tention to 'im 'cus he wuz alwuz raisin' hell. An' so he finally drops it, and the week goes on as it alwuz did. Well that Satt' dy when 'e comes in drunk as hell, he sees 'er givin' some friend o' hers a bun. Now she'd don this before for good customers, an' they liked' er fer it. I don't know whether Old Won Toe ever knew it or not, but 'at night 'e wuz high as hell, and so it didn't make no difference! When he sees 'er doin' that he goes crazy an' grabs th' bun, then th' Chink gives her th' devil. I hear th' noise and his high pipin' voice, so I goes to th'
curtained door and watches. He calls her all kinds o' Chinkie names and English un's too. Then 'e fires her. Course little Molly gits 'er temper up, but that don't help none. So 'e gives 'er her pay and kicks her out o' the door. She stands out on the walk and cusses 'im up and down and even swears to kill 'im, but when she sees that she's only makin' a fool o' herself, she gives up.
She didn't wait fer me, and I don't know what she did that night. But I hear that she went home and cried 'er eyes out. It's funny, y'know, how such a thing will make ya feel.
Well on Sunday she don't show up and th' Chinkie has to work the shop all th' time. I don't see her all a th' week, but I hear that she ain't even trying to git a job. Business falls off an' every day Old Won gits meaner and meaner. At night he jus' stan's behind his counter and looks mean under that old yellow light and when pay day rolls 'round he ain't able to git drunk, 'cuz 'e has to watch th' joint.
He don ' t even try an' git a new gal, as if he cud, so I reckons that he's waitin' fer Molly to come back, as I know that the old man needs her to make his business come up again. But no use, it seems. And the next week I work, Old Toe softens up a bit, jus' like his business, and so I goes to little Molly and this time I talks 'er into goin' back and askin' 'im fer her job agin'. I knew that it would be sort a tough goin' to a yellow guy and askin' fer a job agin', but she wuz gettin' low, especially in cash, and there wuz no tellin' what might happen. 'Course I didn't tell 'er this, but I reckon she saw that she would soon have to git work again or starve, so she was about forced to do it.
Well, she shows up th' followin' evenin' and I hears her voice out in th' front room, so I goes to the door and looks thru' th' curtains. Th' Chink sort a flares up when 'e sees her and I can hear 'is voice gettin' higher and higher, so I knows he's gittin' mad. I can't hear what they' re saying, but from the tone of their voices I can tell that little Molly is try in' to keep 'er head like a good girl and in that way git her job back. But the Chinky doesn't, and he's gittin' mad as hell, and it seems that he is blamin' her for his loss in business lately. \V/ ell finally her Irish temper broke and she let 'im have it. I don't blame her a bit either; 'cus it was more than I would 'ave stood. Anyway things got hotter and hotter in just a few minutes, (C on tinu ed on p age 16)
[ 8]
BOUT Dr. George M. Modlin there are two things of which if you know one you are certain to know the other. He is recognized as being the next to the hardest grader on the fa culty. You never hear this comment made , ho wever, without it being followed by the fac t that his students are all cra zy about him. It is quite unusual for one man to have these two or dinarily conflicting reputations. There are severa l factors that make his case an exception. T here ' s his congenial personality. He's just one of the fellows Then too his lectures are so interestin g ly packed with information that there is seldom a dull moment. The average student would de scribe him as really knowing his stuff. Another rea son is his efficiency and the way he keeps things rolling along. One enjoys being taught efficient economic methods when his instructor practices the trait so well.
Anyone following the story of his life could easily predict a career in which he would attain the a dmir a tion that he now commands. In 1920, at the age of seventeen , he was graduated from the hig h school in Elizabeth City , N. C. Activities the re included the presidency of his senior class , the captaincy of the basketball team, holding down varsity positions on the football and baseball squads, and also being a representative to the state debating finals . His high school summers were very lucratively spent as a plumber's aid in the construction of the Norfolk Naval Base
His four years leading to a B A. degree from Wa ke Forest found him just as active and holding as many positions as when in high school. His major study was history rather than economics as might be expected. Ironically enough it was a low gra de on the one economics course he did take tha t kept him from receiving the medal awarded the athlete with the highest schol a stic standing.
During his college summers , he helped manage ho tels at Ocean View and Virginia Beach. It was dur ing one of these summers at Virginia Beach
that he met his future wife. They were married in 1928 while he was working on his doctor's degree. It was in his graduate work at Princeton that Dr. Modlin got into the field of economics. After working a year for his M.A., he stayed there teaching and working on his Ph.D. This was conferred on him in 1932, but he continued at Princeton as an instructor and associate professor until 1938 . During the last two years there he was coauthor of two books connected with economics .
In September of 1938 he came to Richmo;-id as director of our Evening School of Business Administration and as chairman of the departments of Economics and Applied Economics. It is putting it mildly to say that his accomplishments here in these four years are quite extraordinary.
The enrollment of the evening school was doubled in two years and courses in many new business fields were added . Believing that the university school of business should work hand and glove with the town business , he has helped organize three business clubs in Richmond From these he brings lecturers to his classes and also gains contacts for his graduating seniors
When Dr. Modlin says that he doesn't have time to be as active on the campus as he would like to be , it is easy to see his point. His average day includes eighteen hours of work. No doubt he has a right to poke fun at the student who is late to a nine-thirty class and ask him if he's had his breakfast, and then go on to agree that it certainly is hard to get up in the middle of the morning. We really wonder how a man under such a load can be always so good natured. Typically, the other day , upon noticing the only girl in the class absent , he remarked that he guessed she must not have liked his saying " damn " in the previous lecture
Apart from his school connections , Dr. Modlin is active on the finance board of the First Baptist Church , is chairman of the research committee of (C o ntin ued o n p age 1 6 ) [ 9 J
By
FELICITY JEANNE APPERL Y
They laughed at us And said that we were young. They pointed out that Dark years lay ahead of youth and loveThat war was on.
They said that our lives Could not hold a chance. Pan played no pipes for us, No reveling by which together We might dance
But you were oldSo old beyond your years And I stood, eager yet To try my wings unused to flight alone Or tears
Th~y could not know In all those winds that blew That we could face a storm And clouds that dimmed the sun above If we were two.
I did not know how much I felt; I did not know that I could care. I only know my heart had gone And stood with you-in fury there.
Because my anger flames my heart And rushes wordy to my tongue, I watched you as your torment grew So grim , so cold-for one so young.
I would I could have had your hand And touched you-with your fearsome eye; I would have liked to squeeze that hand , But wonderment had made me shy.
I did not know how much I felt, How much I loved that angered brow , How much I loved that tight clenched fist; But this is sure-I know it now
By MILTON FRIEDENBURG
(Little Red Riding Hood, as it would be written by William Saroyan)
Mike walked into Joe's Tavern and sat down heavily on one of the stools at the bar. Joe was behind the counter mixing drinks. Hello, said Joe. How's your wife? Mike shook his head and spoke to Joe with tears in his voice. She's left again, he said. This makes the third time this month. She knows goddam well I love her, but it just ain't in my nature to show it, so she left me.
Don't worry about that, said Joe, she'll be back. She always comes back, don't she?
Yeah, said Mike. She'll be back, all right, but this business is gettin' on my nerves. She comes and goes. Just when I think things is goin' swell between us, she ups and leaves. I can't even go home and go to bed, I get so lonesome for her to be beside me.
Mike must have been to a few bars already, because he began to cry. Gee, it was funny to see that big two-hundred-pound Irishman cry. The big t ears rolled down his cheeks, and he didn't even bother to wipe them off. Joe gave him a beer on the house so he could cry in it.
All this time a dame in a red riding habit had been sitting in the corner booth watching Mike. She was drinking rye straight, and she had the bottle in front of her. She got up from her seat and carried the half-empty bottle over to the bar and sat down next to Mike.
Ever fall in love with a wolf? she said.
Huh, said Mike. I don't get you. He blew his nose in a red bandana handkerchief.
I said ever fall in love with a wolf? said the dame. I dunno, said Mike? What kind of Wolf? T here's lots of kinds of wolves.
I dunno, said the dame. Any kind. Just so long as it's a wolf.
I knew a girl once named Wolfe, said Mike. G eez, what a pretty girl she was. Had so£t blonde h air and blue eyes. Big blue eyes. I would of married her if it hadn't been that I was already married. That was one of the times when my wife h ad left me because I didn't show her that I loved h er. Geez, what a pretty dame. Big blue eyes. This wolf, he had big eyes, too, said the dame
(11]
in red. But they weren't blue. More of a black. But they were big.
Yeah, said Mike, I know what you mean, big black eyes.
Yeah, said the dame. Real big. He fooled me, though. If he hadn't of fooled me, I probably wouldn't of fallen in love with him .
You married? said Mike.
No, said the dame. Divorced. I fell so hard for that wolf that I got a divorce. I'm sorry now, though.
I'm married, said Mike, but my wife left me. Third time this month. I'm lonesome. Gee, she was pretty. Big blue eyes.
Yeah, said the dame, I know what you mean. Big blue eyes. This wolf, he was handsome. I didn't know he was a wolf when I met him. He dressed nice, too. Drape suits and knit ties. Had big black eyes. I met him in the woods. I was on a hike with my Girl Scout troop. I was the scoutmistress.
I had a mistress once, said Mike. Nice girl. That was before I was married. Big woman. Brunette. Nice eyes, though. Big brown eyes. Dressed nice, too. Met her on the corner of 45th and Broadway. Funny how I met her. She dropped her girdle and I picked it up. Well, I said, shouldn't we ought to of got acquainted? Yes, she said, I guess we ought to of. She took me up to her apartment right away and gave me a drink. She.
I was a good scoutmistress, said the dame, only I didn't like to wear the uniform. I had on this red riding habit when we went on that hike. The wolf, he liked it. Funny, we had just come out of the woods into a big clearing and there was the wolf, sitting on a stump. He didn't look like a wolf, though, except for those big black eyes. I liked them, though. The girls all thought they were nice, too. He walked back into town with us and made a date with me for the next day. I met him at the Astor Bar.
My wife likes to go to the Astor Bar, said Mike. Likes to go there all the time. Knows goddam well I can't afford to pay a dollar and a half for a Cuba Libre, but she goes there all the time. I say to her,
(Continued on page 16)
A.S inevitable companion to the official ration- ft ing of automobile tires and gasoline came the practical rationing of a practice distinctively American, a practice that in little more than a decade has become equal perhaps to a million-dollar industry. For hitch-hiking, an institution dear to the thumbs of thousands of amateurs and professionals, has been reduced to a mere twiddle .
To one who has hitch-hiked many thousands of miles, this curtailing of good-will transportation appears as one of the most unfortunate necessities of the war. From Key West to the Gaspe Peninsula I have exhibited one of the longest thumbs on record, and the world of carburetors has been quite obliging I have moved through Nova Scotia and down across Quebec Province to Lake Champlain - a distance of several hundred miles-subsisting on three long loaves of French bread, half a pound of Chateau cheese , and an eminently successful thumb. I have ridden, gratis, the length of the Pennsylvania super highway at an average of better than eighty-five miles an hour, and I have hitch-hiked several times through both the Holland and Lincoln tunnels beneath the Hudson. I have ridden with Rockef ellers, Colgates, and one of the best hot trumpet players of all time. And I have ridden also with some prime stinkers.
Greatest stinker of the lot, I think , was the Kentuckian who picked me up near Shelby and took me, on one of the coldest days in Kentucky history, all the way through Harlan County. He was rotten.
" No," he told me , "ain't much feudin ' goin ' on in Harlan County or any other county in Kentucky any more Nobody almost never does get shot at any more ."
" People have better sense nowadays?" I asked him. "Seems to me they ought to wake up and see there ' s no percentage in killing each other off."
He sniffled. "Naw," he said, "it ain't that atall. They're just yuller."
I mentioned the Hatfields and the McCoys
then, and he delivered a twenty-minute dissertation on why the two families were no longer gunsmoke enemies. If they had had any sense, he said , they would have gone on fighting until one side was victorious. "But they ain't got the guts to shoot at each other any more," he said "They just start little fist fights now and then in a store or somewhere and let it go at that. And when the pohlice come to break it up ,they stop right away without no fuss atall. Ain-'t no real Kentuckians left. "
In accordance with my policy of not arguing too vehemently with my benefactors, I kept silent and watched the sun alternately setting and rising as we passed through the big hills. I was thinking how difficult it would be to scratch a living out of those stony slopes , when a bullet punched through the glossy new hood not more than a yard from the cowl. I ducked low in the seat, and the driver accelerated until we were moving down grade at eighty miles an hour. I stayed low.
" Say," I said when we were five miles away and the man had cut his profanity to a few hundred words a minute, "what was that for? You ' re not a Hatfield or a McCoy, are you?"
He was still swearing fluently. " Hell no, " he said, munching hard on the words. "That was that crazy Ben - - -. That's the second time he's took a shot at me." And then he told me why.
Old Ben, he said , was worth right much money . He had inherited some of the best farmland thereabouts, and he had done all right with it. Made right smart amount of cash But none of the women had ever looked twice at old Ben, becaus e the man was skinny and dull and-most importan t -cross-eyed Now since Ben had reached the ag e of fifty without a wife , and it seemed he neve r would have one if he didn't hustle fast, he'd come down to Shelby to live for a while and look th e girls over in hopes of winning one to carry back home . But they wouldn't look at him , and he' d gone back up in the hills without manking any important contacts
It was then, the driver said, that in line with hi s
business as a sort of travelling salesman for the district he had visited the old man and stayed at his house three nights while he worked the surro unding territory. Ben had confided in him about a wife, and the salesman had promised to get one fo r him.
She was a nice girl , he had told the old man, and she wouldn't be wanting to get married so bad i f it wasn ' t for her old grandmother and her little brother , who had to be taken care of some way. T he driver had stopped swearing by this time, and fr om time to time he would fire great salvos of la ughter and rock heavily between the back of the seat and the steering wheel. I didn ' t have to say anything to keep him talking, though. He was eag er, it seemed , to tell me about it.
" It was the funniset thing you ever saw ," he said , " when she walked in the old man's front doo r and saw everything hung up for a wedding. See , I'd told Ben everything was fixed up all right and she wanted to be married a s soon as she got th ere I'd told the girl the old man just wanted a ho usekeeper ' '
I left him at a crossroads and went into the sto re. About twenty minutes later the postman dro ve up, excited, and said he had seen a trailer tru ck ed g e the salesman off a three-hundred-foot cliff. Nobody _ seemed particularly sad .
The most impressive person I've ever ridden w ith is Louis Armstrong , generally considered the grea test hot trumpeter of all time, considered by ma ny the greatest individual contributor to hot jazz . I've never been so profoundly impressed by any other artist.
" Satchelmouth" stopped about halfway between two Ohio towns to take me out of a vicious rainstorm , and he seemed genuinely surprised that I recogni zed him and could discuss his work. He was one of the frankest and most friendly persons that ever picked me up, quite unlike many other artists that have been called geniuses; for the re is nothing of the prima-donna complex in Satchelmouth . He is built somewhat like a typical Siegfried , but beyond that he is as ~incere as a wa r bond-so sincere, in fact , that by refusing to pr etend he is a showman he has often failed to capitali ze on the greatest name in the history of Jazz.
There were only two of us and the chaufeur, who wore ordinary sport clothes, and when
Louie learned I knew a little about hot music he began to talk quite lavishly First we talked of the old ja zz musicians and where they were playing, what sort of arranging they had and whether they had gone "commercial." This led to a discussion of the Jitterbug Problem and how many hot musicians had altered their creative work to satisfy the ostentatious "cats ."
"They don ' t know anything about hot music ," Louie said of the jitterbugs "They don ' t hear anything but the rhythm section. All they want is music with a great big beat. " He seemed a little tired , tired of playing to Midwestern audiences that did not appreciate his artistry . The man must have realized-though there was nothing in his manner to indicate this-that he was a master.
At length , recognizing that I was in sympathy with his type of music, Armstrong took his trumpet from its case. And there in the dark car speeding through folds of rain with the driver beating out a steady rhythm on the steering wheel, I heard great music. Louie was in a creative mood , it seemed, and his art was here unrestrained.
Starting with a chorus of Memphis Blues in two-four Dixieland tempo , the master broke off into pure creative blues that I cannot hope ever to hear excelled . The work carried not one trite measure. It was creative work that had never been put upon paper, notes that were fitted together somewhere in the heart-brain of Armstrong ' s memories, fitted together broken seconds before they came out of the horn . And they came out with such technical perfection that I experience a feeling of inestimable , irreparable loss whenever I realize how valuable to the music world would be a recording of that recital.
"It hasn ' t sounded like that for a long time," said Louie when he had put away his horn. "Not for a long, long time ."
I said nothing. I was overwhelmed, and it was not until we stopped in Akron that I could take his hand and try to tell him about the music. He was modest , modest and grateful , but I could see that the chauffeur was gleefully proud. Also Deems Taylor and Leopold Stokowski and Jascha Heifet z would , I think , have been overwhelmed.
* * *
I was en route to Richmond late one afternoon when three farmers picked me up and took me, standing in the open body of their truck , across one of the most beautiful mountain divides I have [ 13]
ever seen. From Buena Vista, Virginia, we mounted in a see-saw course between high-piled Autumn foliage that broke at intervals to leave wide display windows of invisible glass-so that the Valley of the Shenandoah was spread before us like a table of bright kerchiefs.
The farmers dropped me at Oronoco, a thousand feet below the summit, and I began flicking my thumb at passing motorists. A little pessimistically I thumbed, for few motorists will stop in the middle of a straight stretch down grade. But the fortune of the great god Digit was with me. A new Buick convertible squealed excitedly and backed up fifty yards to take me aboard.
The door swung open so hard that it strained the hinges and rebounded halfway shut again. And the odor of alcohol was almost strong enough to send me weaving, as the driver trundled himself out of the car and around to breath in my face. He grasped my shoulders and peered into my eyes; then he stepped back, excused himself, and held a consultation with an elderly woman inside the car. That is, most of him was inside. The part of him that he le£t outside was wagging comically. Shortly he returned and gazed unsteadily at my feet.
"My friend," he said with gravity, "you have brown eyes!"
Eventually he got around to presenting what seemed to me an attractive proposition. His wife, he told me, was sort of finicky about riding with him when he'd had a drink of anything stronger than sasaparilla-and he admitted that the sasaparilla he'd been drinking was bottled in bond. Since I was going to Richmond, he said, why didn't I come along and drive? They were going to Richmond. Yes, why didn't I. He wept as he told me again that I had brown eyes just like an old school teacher of his. I could see he was in too jovial a condition to drive; so I went over to see the woman. She seemed eager to have me take over, and I agreed to drive to Richmond.
We got under way with the man sitting in the
middle between his wife and me. Now and then he would loop his· neck over the back of the seat and gaze at the ceiling for a few seconds, and then he would laugh briefly and go for his liquor in the glove compartment. The obvious fact that his wife was disgusted seemed to make him happier.
"You know," he said to me, "I get in some of the damnedest situations."
"Yes?" I said.
"Yes, I do," he said. "I got in one the other day -had to take the man's brains out before he'd do a thing for me."
I was inquisitive, quite naturally. "Are you a surgeon?" I asked.
"Hell, no," he drawled. 'Tm from West Virginia!"
It took him several minutes to coax the cap off his bottle and spill some liquor on his necktie. I noticed that his wife had fallen asleep-probably from nervous exhaustion.
"Yes," he continued, "I had to take his brains all out before he'd do a thing for me. Had to put an ear on him, too. . . . "
I thought he was kidding. "Oh, sure," I said. Sure-do it every day. It's fun, isn't it?"
"No," he mused, "it isn't so much fun. I don't enjoy it. But then there's some guys that need their heads reshaped. . . . "
I said nothing. I said nothing more until we stopped at a hotel in Richmond, where his wife awakened and thanked me.
"We' re going to a convention," she told me. "We' re going to an undertakers' convention. But I guess he told you. "
* * *
There is obviously no place for civilian hitchhikers in the program of the present war, and I am not encouraged by the fact that the war "may soon be over." Unless the supplies of gasoline and rubber return to the peace-time norm much sooner than seems probable, I'll be laden with too much dignity ever again to display my chief anatomical pride-the elongated thumb.
(A prize of $SO will be given any student answering all questions correctly . In case of a tie, duplicate prizes will be awarded. The decision of the judges is to be final.)
1. Name four former uses of the playhouse.
2. Location of (original) Richmond College.
3. When did it move to its present site?
4. What is the name of the refectory?
5. What W. C. girls are allowed to date in the middle of the week, and for how long?
6. When did R. C. become a university?
7. How long has Dr. Boatwright been president?
8. What does the "W'.' in Boatwright's name stand for?
9. How long has Miss Keller been W. C. dean ?
10. What was the use of the Student Shop in precollege days?
11. What national fraternity was founded on R. C. campus?
12. What campus building was burned in 1925-26?
13 When was the last building of the science quadrangle erected?
14. Why and by whom was the lake first dammed?
15. How long has the River Road Tavern been serving the campus?
16. When are the gates to the Westhampton campus locked?
17. When was the W . C. activities building constructed?
18. To the memory of whom is the Greek Theatre dedicated?
19. Under what R. C. professor incumbent was Dr. Loving a student?
20. How many pine trees are there on the campus?
(ANSWERS ON PAGE 17)
15)
Old Won Toe
(C on tinu ed fr o m pa ge 8)
and I wuz just gittin ' ready to go out an' try an' stop 'em when he takes a swing at 'er. She mus' o' seen it comin', cuz she ducked it pretty.
Yeah, 'e misser her but 'e hit the lamp and sent the ·flickerin' thing sprawlin' all over the place. It flashed up quick too, and in no time fire wuz all about the counter and all the little novelties and cases were beginnin' to blaze. Molly just stood and watched 'im with her mouth wide open until the Chinkie screams. He was cornered behind th' counter and begun to scream like a cornered mouse. I could hear 'im plain, screamin' fer her to save 'im and he ' d give her job back, and a raise, and a reward, and so on. Me? I got scared and beat it, I couldn ' t have helped 'im anyway cuz most of the fire was between him and me. I beat it ' round front and turned in the alarm tho ', and called Molly thru' the door to beat it , as I ken see that the Chinkie is a gonner.
She' s a brave 'un tho' and runs fer a fire extinguisher to put it out, but the Chinkie just hollers louder and louder. I sees ' er strugglin' with it but nothin' happens. She finally throws it on th ' floor and runs fer another but it don ' t work either.
Then I hollers fer her t' beat it, cuz the extinguishers must be dried out or sumptin', and if she don't she'll be burned. She must o ' heard me, cuz she looks up and sees me thru' th' winder and then seein ' the fire closin ' round ' er, she screams and runs fer the door. I grab ' er as she comes out because I think she's goin' to faint.
But she don't, she just grabs me and cries on my shoulder-just like a baby , while I stan' there and watch the Chinkie burn He makes one last try to get out from behind the counter and then falls. 'Course the fire departm't don't git there 'til too late, but they finally put ·out th' fire and clean th' place up
Now here's th ' funny part , ' cuz y' might say that Molly killed the Chink . Y'see it wuz her that made all the dough fer the old man, and it wuz the dough 'at killed ' im, 'cuz he'd filled up all th ' fire extinguishers with th ' cash
Our Profs ( C o n t i nue d from p age 9)
the Richmond Community Council, and a member of the executive committee of the Richmond Coun -
cil on Adult Education . He is also a member of several national economic and business associations
As to the War, Dr. Modlin seems to be doing his share. His evening school has cooperated with the United States Office of Education to train over fifteen hundred employees of war industries since last March
It is interesting to have an economist's view of the war problems . Dr. Modlin believes that government control will prevent run-away inflation during and after the war. He also has his reasons not to be exceedingly disturbed about the three hundred billion dollar debt. He is disturbed, however , over the difficulties of curbing such factions as the farm and labor groups from pressin g for increases in price for self-benefition
He believes that the post war policy should be centered around the formulation of a sound international economic or ga ni zation. The machinery for this will naturally be political, but if the economic problems are solved , the politic a l problems will take care of themselves The emphasis should be more on economics rather than as afte r the last war when the politic al set-ups were the sole consideration
Association with Dr. Modlin is indeed considered a privilege by those who are that fortunate. Perhaps this brief biog raphical sketch will _ help explain the great amount of admiration that prevails amon g the students of this professo r, and its facts will surely make him rate even higher in the estimation of the students who a lread y know him.
(Cont i n11ed from page 11 )
Estelle, you know I can't afford to pay a dollar and a half for a Cuba Libre , but she cries and says I don ' t love her and goes there anyhow Goes there all the time .
We had Cuba Libers , says the dame in red. H e swept me off my feet. Kept dating me Finally w e de cided to have a rendezvous at my granma ' s cabin in the country. It was there that I found out that h e was a wolf. I should of known , though , by those big black eyes
Yeah, said Mike , I know what you mean Big black eyes.
[ 16]
By ALBERT RUSSINOFF
John Donne compared his love unto a compass
And Spenser called his own a block of ice;
Sam Daniel wailed for Delia's golden tresses-
For their fair loves they say they'd have died twice.
In lines of verse they fanned the inky flame ,
For sonnets then were quite the vogue and fashion.
With ease each of the Muses they could name ,
But all , as one , did lack the thing called passion.
For them sufficed a carefully chosen word
That fain would mock the feeling I know well.
But to me all conceits seem too absurd,
When deep within the flames I try to quell .
To you, dear one , I swear by all that's true,
Without your love , my pleasures are but few
ANSWERS (To Questionnaire on Page 15)
1. Chapel , science department , dance pavilion ,
~pl~~e.
2 Lombardy and Grace Streets.
3. September , 1914
4. Sarah Brunet Hall.
5 Sophomores , Juniors, and Seniors may date
on Wednesd ay nights until nine o'clock.
6 S b
. eptem er , 1920.
7 Forty-eight years
8 William
9 . Twenty-nine years.
10 Park keeper's place.
.
11. Sigma Phi Epsilon.
12 Laboratory building by power plant.
13. Maryl a nd Hall , 1932-'33 .
14. By Richmond Passenger and Power Company.
For pleasure park.
15. About ten years.
16. Twelve o ' clock at night.
17 Ye a r 19 37
18. Luther H . Jenkins.
19. Dr. Gaines.
20 One thousand three hundred and forty-seven
THE CIGARETTE.FOR ME IS CAMEL. THEY'RE SMOOTH AND EASY ON MY THROAT-AND A REAL TREATTO MY TASTE! -says former Olympic ace DICK DURRANCE
who trains ski troopers for the Army
TAKE IT from a busy housewife, Mrs. Ruth Martin (below). When it comes to squeezing more pleasure out of every smoking moment, Camels really hit the spot.
I FIND CAMELS SUIT ME BETTER ALL WAYS. THEY HAVE SUCH A
THE w here cigarettes areiudged
The "T-ZONE"-Taste and Throatis the proving ground for cigarettes. Only your taste and throat can decide which cigarette tastes best to you and how it affects your throat. For your taste and throat are individual to you. Based on the experience of millions of smokers, we believeCamelswill suityour "T-ZONE" to a "T," Prove it for yourself!
• A new set of champions is in tra in· ing on America's ski trails today- ski champions, 1943 model, U.S. Ar my! Yes, from goggles to Garands, th ese new champions are soldiers throu gh and through-even to their liking for Camels. For Camels are the favor ite in all the services. ,:,
As Instructor Dick Durra nce (above) says: "Camels suit my thr oat to a 'T'-and there's nothing l ike Camels for flavor."
* The favorite ciga · rette with men in the Army, Navy, Mari nes, and Coast Guar d i s Camel. (Based on ac tua l sales records in Post Ex· changes, Ship ' s Ser vice Stores, Ship's Stores , an d Canteens.)