Asst. 1/1/esthampton College Editor . JOYCE PARRISH
Poetry Editor MIMI THALENBERG
Features KENNY BUTLER
Fiction WILMA LUM, WILBUR THOMAS
Exchange WALLY McGRAW
Art Staff ELLEN LARGENT, ANN WILEY
Edito1·ial Staff HANNAH BARLOW, WALT MAHON, JIM PAYNE, ELIZABETH WEBB, DON WILSON, FLORA JEANNE ZBAR, BARBARA COVINGTON, LETITIA EARLL.
Published in Oetober , December, February, April and May by University of Richmond Publications , Incorporated. Right is reserved to alter contributions to meet publication requirements. All communications should be addressed to THE )fESSENOEJt, Box 126, University of Richmond, Virginia.
Member Virginia Intercollegiate Press Association
"It's Been Real" ·w
E HA VE WORKED for almost a year to put out a magazine that would do credit to the University and appeal to the student body. It hasn't always been easy, and in the opinion of some we haven't succeeded. It has been interesting.
There were times when it didn't seem worth the trouble; those times were few, for the magazine has been an important part of our college life. It was a challenge to be met; it was something to be done.
To those students who went out of their way to tell us when they liked an issue, we are very grateful. We are also grateful to those who told us when they didn't like an issue. To them we owe the improvements which were made in the magazrne.
It is impossible to tell how much is owed to those whose names appear on the masthead; there cannot be too much praise given for the fine work of Peggy Harris and Frank Wentzel. Without their efforts and ideas THE MESSENGERwould not have been. There are three people whose names do not appear on the masthead; they are not students, but they contributed a great deal to the magazine. They are: Miss Taylor, Mr. Massie, and Mr. Dementi. It has been a pleasure to work with them-we hope they enjoyed it too.
There isn't any use to become either sentimental or angry about the school or its shortcomings, as no purpose would be served. That's all people, "it's been real."
-P.V.
ShakespeareHad A Word ForItOn Exams
. the crack of doom."
-(Macbeth) ~\,.0'r'Q . it was Greek to me."
-(Julius Ctesar)
. give the devil his due."
-(I Henry IV)
" . . out of the question." -(Love's Labour's Lost)
'' Time and the hour runs . . . '' -(Macbeth)
" ... my seated heart knock at my ribs . . ." -(Macbeth) . as good luck would have it."
-( Merry Wives of Windsor) . that was laid on with a trowel. " -( As You Like It)
. there's small choice in rotten apples. " -(Taming of the Shrew)
"It were superfluous. . " -(II Hemy IV) -WALT PRESTON.
Table Mats For Three
EDITH opened the door for me, and in a way I remembered as typical of her, didn't smile or show any recognition of me at all beyond a dry, "Come in, Janet." I went in, tugging at my gloves, trying to convince myself that there was, after all, nothing in the meeting of two sisters after three years that called for anything more. It was not, I told myself, a surprise to her. We had kept up a brief but persistent correspondence ever since I had impulsively left the apartment we had been keeping together. We had planned a visit for some months, and a telegram last night had informed her of my unexpected arrival. I was glad now that I hadn't telephoned. Edith's low, toneless voice, Edith's reserve, and Edith's seriousness were not conducive to long telephone chats. The apartment was as I remembered it. The living room had a few minor changes-a new slipcover for a chair that had been my favorite and a new landscape on the wall. But the walls were still the drab gray they had always been, the upholstery was still predominantly dark green, and the mahogany furniture as dark and as rich as before. There was an open fire burning. Its warmth struck me as being in direct contrast to Edith. She turned to me now that we were in, and said, "Let me take your coat." I took time to look at her closely. I had always been flattered when friends told me I looked like my older sister. Edith had the tall, slim good looks of all the sophisticated women she was not. Her dark hair was parted in the middle, and the way it waved back softly to the back of her neck never looked severe, but always very beautiful. Her eyes were large and gray, her nose aquiline and the envy of my abrupt one. Her mouth, long and thin, was the most expressionless feature in her perfectly shaped but somehow completely inconspicuous face. She was the most unobtrusive of persons. No one would ever notice her in a crowd, but if attention was called to her, would wonder why he hadn't. • I, so far, hadn't spoken and it occurred to me that perhaps I had no right to call Edith cool. "Hello, Edie," I said, smiling, and took both her hands. "Well?" she said, and she did smile. Impulsively I flung my arms around her. I remembered her kindnesses to me all the years our parents had
been dead, her patience with what must have been annoying, if natural, in a sister ten years younger than herself, and her willingness to let me live much as I liked. It was easy now to forget the difficulty we'd had when I had left, on a chance, to take a job with a minor dramatic company which had turned suddenly into one of New England's most famous. She had probably missed me, these three years, I thought.
"Well, how are you?" she said a bit awkwardly, straightening herself.
"Fine!" I answered, enthusiastically. "And Edie, I'm to play 'Bridget' in Shadow and Substance."
"That's nice," she said, remotely. "That's splendid. We may as well sit down, I guess. Tell me all about it."
"Oh, no," I deprecated going in and sitting restlessly as of old on the edge of the nearest chair. "I really should ask about you first." I regretted this immediately, for what could she say of the three years that would not seem dull to me? I had always skimmed through her letters rapidly, recalling that she was doing more reading than I had time for, noting such trivia as tea with a friend of our mother, a flower show. All fine enough, but she must have envied me.
"You know I always do very much the same," she told me. "You must think me a regular spinster, Janet, with my plants and my cat and my flowers and small interests."
I wished she hadn't said this. There was something embarrassing in her effort to laugh at herself, a laugh that was not deserved. "Nonsense," I said, loyally, but I was glad to go back to an account of myself, of the plays we'd been giving, the cities we'd trouped, the gay, mad things that happened at rehearsals. I'm afraid I talked too much of David. But she admired my ring and wished that I had brought his picture in a way that if it were only perfunctory was not, at least, disapproving.
"You' re coming to the play tonight, of course?" I urged. "You've seen the Barretts before, but it's always good." What I wanted was praise.
"Of course," she agreed, but there was no enthusiasm in her voice and I was irritated anew. I looked at her sitting quietly and without expres[3]
sion in the chair by the fire. She was crocheting table mats, and though I loved crocheting, there was something very hopeless and pathetic in seeing her do it.
"Edie," I asked suddenly, "why don't you get a job, or move, or do something different?"
She was not even surprised. She just shook her head without looking up and asked about my director.
"It's about time for Stephen and Andrew to come for tea," she said after a while, getting up. "You still take lemon instead of milk?" There was slight disapproval in her voice. She had always resented the fact that I pref erred lemon.
"Yes," I answered, smiling. "May I help you?"
I knew she would say what she did. "No, no, you must keep your seat." I watched her move gracefully across the room to the kitchen, the long legs, the long lovely face. If Edie only had more life, I thought desperately, and knew a hopelessness in wishing it. Then it occurred to me to call back to her, "Who are Stephen and Andrew?"
"Friends," she answered, and seemed to think that adequate explanation. I knew almost immediately anyway because the doorbell rang and she came out, a party apron over her dress, to open the door, greet soberly, and introduce to me two of the most striking looking men I'd ever seen. Both were in their late thirties, both had brown eyes, high foreheads, and pale complexions. I saw at a startled glance that they were twins. I had always said if I ever had twins I would drown one of them, and here was a pair of them calling on my sister whom I'd never known to have a beau in her life. "Beau," I thought, with a smile, was the word she would have used.
Andrew and Stephen Johnson sat gravely down on the sofa while Edith went hurrying back to the kitchen, and I attempted to make conversation.
"Do you live in town?" I asked.
"Yes, Miss Wood," from one of them. "We have known your sister for about a year." I had not asked, but was glad to know.
"Yes," said the other. "We met her at our Mother's chrysanthemum show." I could have wept. I love chrysanthemums and would no doubt enjoy chrysanthemum shows, but the idea of poor, lovely Edith meeting there these beautiful and dull brothers had in it that mixture of comedy and pity which is the most poignant feeling of all. For they were hopeless! y dull. We sat and talked the fifteen
[4}
minutes before Edith returned, expressionless, with the tray, when they rose, expressionless, to their feet. I think we discussed Tolstoy whom they "liked very much," and we talked about Laura, Edith's cat.
"Cats are wonderful creatures," said Stephen. "Such nice companions," agreed Andrew, gazing seriously down at Laura who was curled up on the rug.
"I like the very idea of a cat," Stephen went on.
"They improve a home so," was Andrew's remark. They seemed waiting, gravely, for me to speak. "Yes, I just love cats," I gushed. There was a silence.
"Have you read anything of Dostoyevsky, Miss Wood?" This was Andrew who I think was the better reader of the two to the envy of the other who wanted to "improve."
"Why yes," I said. " I just finished Crime and Punishment. A fascinating thing."
"Yes. Fascinating," said Andrew. "Very," murmured Stephen. "I like Russian works."
"I do too," agreed Andrew, and then rashly, "Very much "
I waited, then said inevitably, "I do too."
Edith appeared with the tray. There was some very serious discussion as to where she would put it. The brothers watched anxious ly until she sat down, then seated themselves again.
"My sister is an actress," commented Edith.
"Oh," said Stephen, approvingly.
"You didn't tell us," said Andrew, so gravely that I was on the verge of apologizing. I think he was being gay.
"Yes," I said. 'Tm with the Guilford Company We're giving The Barretts of Wimpole Street tonight. That's how I happen to be in town. I haven't seen Edith in years."
"Three years," said Edith.
"A long time," said Andrew.
"Have a cookie," urged Edith. I knew without looking that she had made them herself. Again I was aware of a patheticness about it all. I took a cookie which even on the blue-edged plate with the others looked forlorn.
"Are you playing 'Bar'?" asked Stephen. I imagine he thought it was a triumph over his brother that he could speak this familiarly of the play.
"No," I said, and I felt apologetic, though I'd
(Continued on page 24)
pays ya money, and ya takes ya choice"
Life is the incessant ticking of the clock
The thought of the dentist's drill
Dull pencil points
Desired books unread
The way I look in a snapshot
The struggle of the knife and meat
The desire to stay in bed another second
The chipping of crackers at the first bite
Pens without ink
The licking of postage stamps
The waste of lingering hours
Surprise at being remembered
The thought of being forgotten
The struggle of opening a penknife
The desire to get the ball
Grades
The remembrance of the very words
The aftermath of a storm
Beat of rain on a tin roof
Arrival of a long-awaited bus
Meeting an old friend
Wag of a friendly dog
Chills up your spine
Tearing of creased paper
Love of mail
Fear of blame
Smell of a fresh newspaper
Loose change in pocket
Broken promises
A tight ring
A loud radio
Overhead lights
Clever jokes
Writing your name in dust
Old gags retold
This is my life.
-DON WILSON.
A SimpleLittleTale
Editor's Note: This play was given over Station WRNL on Monday, April 26, at 10 p.m., by the Radio Guild of the University of Richmond. This group, under the direction of Professor Alton Williams, has done much to give interested students a chance to try their hands at radio writing and production. We wish thern everything good for the future.
ANNCR: Tonight the Radio Guild of the University of Richmond presents A SIMPLE LITTLE TALE for your evening listening. An original Guild production. One word of warning before we begin: any resemblance between the characters of this story and your own fond little pets is purely intentional. And now, A SIMPLE LITTLE TALE, starring the five, handsome, pedigreed POOCHES!
DAME: Dame Pooch.
SIRE: Sire Pooch.
BONNIE: Little Bonnie Pooch.
ANN: And the twins.
JUNIOR: I'm Junior Pooch ... sometimes called Poochie.
BRUCIE:And I'm Brucie Pooch (disgustedly); Poochie, too, to some dumb clucks who can't tell the difference.
ANN: Now for the story. It all started on the morn of a gray and dewy April day, not so long ago. The Pooches were assembled for their morning meal, when what to their wandering ears should appear, but . . .
SOUND: (Dogs barking loudly, fading into background and off.)
DAME: (Exasperated): Oh, for T-bone's sake; it's those Irish setters next door again. Honestly, I wish they'd set more and fret less . . . maybe the neighborhood' d have a little more peace!
SIRE: Now, Dame, don't be too harsh on them. What do you expect from newcomers to the community? They' re a nice breed. Give them a few generations and they'll calm down a bit, I'm sure.
BONNIE: (The sophisticate): Dame Mama! I heard that the Setter's eldest daughter has been seen with that roguish half-breed, Rascal! Some
people say he has all of four different strains of blood in him !
BRUCIE:Lay off, Bonnie. Rascal's a bit big for a prig like you to go around yapping about. He'll bite your ears off if he gets wind of any of this. You'd best shut up.
JUNIOR: Sire Pop, you oughta' muzzle that brat. She's gonna have the whole neighborhood down on us one of these days . . . the way she struts around with her nose in the air all the time.
DAME: ( Ashamed) : Why, Bonnie! I've always told you that it's the real pedigrees who know how to be sweetly sociable ... never a snob. Do you want some people to think you've Pointer blood in you?
BONNIE: I'd rather have them think I was part Pointer than part Bloodhound, running around with my nose to the grindstone the way they do all the time. Honestly, it's a crime. You can't even chase an automobile or motorcycle without one of those Bloodhounds tracking you down, bawling you out, and then prancing off like he owned the town!
SIRE: Of course you' re partly justified, daughter. I think any respectable Cocker Spaniel has the right to hold his head a little higher than a thirtydegree angle if he chooses.
BRUCIE: I dare say Grandfather stuck his nose up there. ( Contented sigh): When I tell the girls that my grandfather was "My Own Brucie," they all get goggle-eyed and say, "Not The 'My Own Brucie'!" S'nice feeling.
JUNIOR: Oh, you're all a bunch of hypocrites! I'm ashamed of you! You can't even stand on your own four feet without an eye to your ancestors. What a mess this breed has become! You, Sire . you litter up this place wi,th airs of refinement and culture when all the time you're the most narrowminded, intolerant .... I'm glad I've had gumption enough to prowl around on my own, even if I did have to sneak out at night after you were all quite cozy on your feather-downing! I wanted to see how the rest of the canines live! Well, I've seen enough to know that I could never be happy here!
SIRE: (Stern and angry): Junior Pooch! What are you saying!?!
JUNIOR: I'm saying that I'm leaving this pedi[ 7}
greed pound! (Sadly): Sire, Dame, Bonnie, Brucie; I wish you all the happiness in the world that a twenty-generation pedigree can give. (Up): Me? I want to live my own life! Farewell!
SOUND: (Hoof beats fast, door slams, and hoofs fade into background, under.)
DAME: Junior! (Wailing): Oh, Junior ... I knew he'd come to no good end when he was born all black . . none of my golden coat . . . not even the white vesrt like his Sire and twin brother. (Sniffling.)
SIRE: Now, now, Dame. The boy's chosen his own way. Why, I'm even a little proud of him! (Pay up): the way he charged off! (Build): Who knows? He might really make something of his life. He makes me want to hold my head and tail high! Higher than that fool pedigree ever did!
BoNNIE: Why, Sire!
DAME: Do you realize what you just said?
BRUCIE: You just made a slam against your own breed, and, besides . . . (All said together, each fading into barking.)
SOUND: (Above fading into barking, build, drop slowly into background.)
ANN: Oh, the neighborhood re-echoed with the clamor of that memorable family feud! But Sire Pooch was, as always, victorious, bringing into play his stern command of the generations prior and hence. Little Bonnie, whose feelings had been pushed around quite a birt on that gray and dewy April morning, had had time to think over a few of Junior's embittered words. So it was that one night, about an hour after all the rest of her family were sound asleep and snoring peacefully, little Bonnie crept from her feather-downing, shuddering in the unfamiliar cold of rth~ night air as she crept quickly and silently out into the moonlight. Her golden coat glistened under the soothing fingers of the moonlight that caressed her coldly. She made her way stealthily along the back fence and wiggled through ,the forbidden hole in the large hedge that had long been her protection against the outer world. Suddenly, she heard an unfamiliar noise that caused her to jump back with horror!
BONNIE: (Yelping, afraid): Yiiip! !
CAT: Sss Merrrrrooowww w--sst! Fst!
BONNIE: Wh .. ? Who. . . (relaxing somewhat): Oh, there you are. (Again alarmed): Say, you don't look like any the the canines I kn?w·
CAT: ( Contemptuously) : Canine! I should most
assuredly say not! I am a cat, Miss Priss. (Ominously): Doesn't that mean anything to you?
BONNIE: (Excited): It doesn't, I'm afraid. I ... I never heard of you before. Where are you from? (Seriously): Do you have a pedigree?
CAT: Pedigree? Me? ( Catfish laughter): Hoooohhhhheho heeheeheeee ! Hah, but you' re an innocent imbecile! I'll teach you all you need to know about me in one easy lesson ! Take th art and that! Ssssst-rrrrorrr !
BONNIE: Yip, yip, yip ... (Loud): Yelp!
ANN: Bonnie was horrified as she saw whole tufts of her lovely golden coat torn out and shredded by this awful creature. Then a searing pain shot through her whole body. She yelped in agony.
BONNIE: (Big yelp-yip!)
ANN: Bonnie licked her nose where the pain had started and the unaccustomed sal•ty taste of her own blood made her draw back sharply. She saw the fearful claw raised again. She fled down the street, her dignity and composure lost in the terror that forced her onward. A speckled form streaked past her and she turned her head just in time rto see the terrible cat climb madly into a nearby tree. There on the ground beneath stood as handsome a canine as Bonnie had ever seen. All black and white, with short, wiry coat and nice straight legs.
FoxEY: (Barking furiously): And don't you ever try that again, you rebel! This is your third uprisal this month! . . all against the young and innocent. I ought to have you brought before the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. Why, ,that's ... ,that's anti-animalism!
ANN: Bonnie slunk back slowly and painfully to the base of the tree, licking her wounds sorrowfully. Her shining knight turned and saw her approaching.
FoXEY: Why, my dear, I hope this fiend hasn't hurt you too badly. She's a mean little cat, and won't abide by the rules.
BONNIE: (Sniffling; self-pity): She ... she stuck needles in her paws and bit me!
FoxEY: (Laughing gently): You poor little thing. You'd be badly wounded if she'd bitten you. As it is, she only clawed you, and it isn't . . a bad place at all. It should heal without even scarring that pretty little black nose of yours.
BONNIE: (Sucking in her breath suddenly): Oh, Sir. Please. . . .
FoxEY: (Quickly): Forgive me, my dear. I ... [ 8]
I simply couldn't help myself. There's ... there's just something about you. Please forgive me. I don't want to frighten you .... Where do you live?
BONNIE: (Sniffiing suddenly): Oh, Sir. I really don't know where I live! I've never been beyond the hedge before in all my whole life, and now ... I don't see the hedge anywhere!
FoXEY: Gee, honey ... do you mind if I call you Honey? It matches your coat . so smooth and silky ....
BoNNIE: My Sire and Dame call me Bonnie.
FoxEY: Sire and Dame? Oh, I see . . . well, Mom and Pop call me Foxey . . . that's short for Sir Fox Terrier, Junior ... I reckon. Er, ah ... where do we go from here?
BONNIE: We could ask the cat where she found me.
FoxEY: She wouldn',t tell us. She's from the back alleys. . , Suppose we just walk back along this same street. You couldn't have come too far, or the cat would've caught you. She's fast, she is. They' re all fast and sly . . . and slippery.
BONNIE: I don't think I like cats.
FoxEY: I'm not surprised. (Up): There up ahead! Is that the large hedge you were telling me about?
BoNNIE: I dunno. Let's walk around it and see. (Fade): It didn't look so big from the inside, but it might be it. . . .
ANN: And it was. Bonnie and Foxey came to the little hole in the hedge just large enough for the small cocker to wiggle through. But much to Bonnie's evident surprise, when she found the little gateway to what had always been happiness and security, she was not sure she wanted to go back in. There was something about this strong, wiry terrier that did things to her heart; things that Bonnie neither liked nor understood. Foxey stood there, looking at her.
BONNIE: l . . . I guess I'd better go back in.
FoxEY: Don't rush off, Bonnie ... the night is young, and you' re so beautiful in the moonlight.
BONNIE: I am?
FoxEY: (Surprised): Don't tell me no one ever said that to you before!
BONNIE: No one but Dame Pooch . . but . . . not . . . like you said it . . . just then. . . .
FoxEY: (Sternly): And no one else ever will! Bonnie Pooch, I'm from a breed that neither minces words nor wastes time. Will you be my
[9]
mate for the rest of our mortal days?
BONNIE: (Very surprised): Foxey!!! Why ... Oh, NO, Foxey ! I think you'd better go home now. And I don't think you'd better come back again, either.
FoxEY: I'll leave now, Bonnie. But I'll be back again . . right here, waiting by this fire plug tomorrow night (Fade) : and every night until you say "YES."
BONNIE: (Heaves a big sigh, which fades into music.)
Music: (Light comedy bridge, about five seconds.)
DAME: ( On cold): What do you mean, sneaking off in the middle of the night LIKE ANY OLD HOUND! It's a blessing you didn't get more ,than your nose scratched by that feline!
BONNIE: (Sniffiing and yipping): It was a cat, Dame.
DAME: A cat is a feline, just like you're a cocker and a canine.
BONNIE: Are all cats black with green eyes? OUCH! You' re hurting me!
DAME: Hush! I'm just trying to fix this scratch so you won't be scarred for life.
BONNIE: Are they?
DAME: Are what?
BONNIE: Are all cats black? With short hair and a long tail?
DAME: Of course not, stupid. Honestly, I thought you knew some things!
BONNIE: You never told rrie anything.
DAME: Well ... it's just one of those things we don't like to discuss in polite society. We canines have had a war going on against the felines for generations. You needn't worry about it. You' re safe.
BONNIE: I wasn't safe last NIGHT! ... Until Foxey saved me. . . .
DAME: (Furiously): Foxey this, Foxey that! Don't you ever mentiqn his name around here again!
BONNIE: But, Dame! I'm going to be his mate! He asked me!
DAME: WHAT! Why ... (Calling): Sire! Sire! Brucie! Come here! ( On mike) : Oh, this is awful. ...
SIRE: What is it? Has the scratch abscessed or something? Should I call the veterinarian ?
DAME: FAR worse than that, Sire Pooch! Bonnie is planning to become the mate of that
that hound that brought her back last night!
BONNIE: He is not a hound! He's a Fox Terrier, and he has a pedigree just as long as ours, I'll bet. His breed is just as fine as ours!
DAME: But she's so young and innocent!
SIRE: (Laughingly): Ha! She's young, I wager. But that young Foxey is as big a scalawag as the day is long! I was just thanking his sire for his returning Bonnie.
DAME: What! You SPOKE with a terrier!
SIRE: He saved my daughter's life. What was I supposed to do ... pretend I didn't know? ... ( Excited and sharp) : Junior was right! We have become a breed of prudish snobs! I'm thoroughly ashamed of myself for having sired such a litter of short-sighted cocker spaniels! Why, we're no longer the leaders of the canines. . . We' re the tail!
BONNIE: I don't care, for one. I'd sooner become Foxey's mate than add a thousand more names to that old pedigree!
SIRE: Now, Bonnie. I wasn't saying you could.
BONNIE: Yes you did . . . yes you did! I will anyway!
SIRE: But you can't, Bonnie. This is just a pure case of puppy love ... and it'll eventually lead to a dog's life. You'll get over it. Wait until the right mate comes along.
BONNIE: He has come along! And his name is Foxey!
SIRE: But, Bonnie. You can't, that's all. It .
BONNIE: It what?
SIRE: It just isn't done, that's all.
BONNIE: (Furiously): It isn't done by prigs and snobs! . . . you said that yourself. But I'm never going to be a prig or a snob ever again. Ever! . . . What right have you to say that I can or cannot become the mate of any canine whom I choose? Is there some law?
SIRE: No, no law. Just a sort of thoroughbred's agreement.
BONNIE: Thoroughbred' s agreement ! ! ! (Very high): Sire Pooch, there's only one difference between the blue blood in our veins and the red blood in other canines ... OURS IS A GOOD FIFTY DEGREES COLDER!!
SOUND: (Slamming of door.)
DAME: Now she's gone, too! Oh, Sire! Does this mean the end of our long pedigree?
BRUCIE: (Oily): I'm still here, Dame dear.
DAME: Oh, Brucie. My own sweet little Brucie.
Yes, you' re here. You' re Dame's good little fellow. You'll see that the pedigree doesn't end now, won't you?
SIRE: (Extremely angry): Of course he'll see that the pedigree doesn't end. There'll always be a lap-dog like Brucie to carry on the breed! !
SOUND: (Slamming of door.)
DAME: My gracious! I wonder what's wrong with your Sire?
BRUCIE: Oh, he's just worked up into a distemper. He'll be all right; he's too old to change his tune now . . . Dame, shall we get out the pedigree and look at it?
DAME: (Sighing): Yes, I think we do need another look at something as sure and strong as that. Remember, Son ... that is the only real foundation . . . PEDIGREE!
BRUCIE:Dame, I think you and I are the only ones in this whole breed who understand each other. Isn't it fortunate for the breed?
ANN: (Extremely sarcastically): ISN'T IT FORTUNATE INDEED!!!
-NANCY CURTIS.
Fashion Plate
Sitting this one out are Rene Barbour and Wes Brown. Rene looks quite fetching in her "square dance" dress of gingham. The cutest thing this side of the Blue Ridge Mountains ( the dress, gentlemen) it is in dark-shaded tones of multicolors combined with black. The stole, to be draped around the head or shoulders has ruffled pockets. The separate full skirt and camisole top make up this latest in formals. The gold "flats" Rene wears are for either evening or daytime. We can't guarantee that you'll be able to handle a teacup as well as Wes does, but a white formal jacket and summer tuxedo trousers will help you to look smooth and be comfortable at the same time during those warm summer evenings. You've seen it before; why not try it?
Clothes courtesy of Miller and Rhoads.
[ 10}
Jlereeomes?:lteJlelicopter
THE theory of the helicopter is centuries old. Leonardo da Vinci in the fifteenth century was the first to conceive of flight by this unique method. Although his sketches were crude, he had very definite ideas and it is possible that with modern methods at his disposal he could have proved his theories.
Nearly three hundred years elapsed between daVinci's day and the next experiments with rotarywing aircraft. In 1784 Launoy and Bienvenu, two Frenchmen, constructed a model which showed that the idea of flight through the use of a horizontal air-screw had not died. Their model used feathers for propeller blades and a bent bow for motive power. The most surprising fact about Launoy and Bienvenu' s model was its startling resemblance to a device used by Igor Sikorsky two centuries later to demonstrate the principles of a helicopter.
The first successful, full scale helicopter experiments took place in France in 1907. Two men, Paul Cornu and Louis Brequet, working independently, built full size models. Each of the two designs worked with some degree of success. Cornu and Brequet were able to get their ships into the air, but both were uncontrollable once airborne. It was these experiments that started Igor Sikorsky thinking along this line. He spent a day with Cornu, but did not witness Cornu' s trial flight. Sikorsky was so filled with enthusiasm that he returned home and built his own version of a helicopter. As has been the case with so many first attempts, Sikorsky's firsts were doomed to failure. Assuming that he was not ready to build a successful aircraft of this type, he wisely turned his attention to other projects.
For nearly thirty years Igor Sikorsky had been pondering the problems of the helicopter. In May, 1939, when he started construction of a working model, there were few engineering problems remaining to be solved. Although progress was slow, there were no major difficulties encountered. The craft was named the VS-300, the "VS" standing for Vought-Sikorsky, and the "300," a company number. On September 14, 1939, the weird looking contraption was rolled out and carried to an unused section of the field. Upon seeing the VS-300 for the first time, one of the most capable
engineers of the Vought-Sikorsky organization was heard to say, "If that thing ever flies, I never have been, am not, and never will be an engineer." The ship did fly, and that skeptic didn't lose his reputation even if he was ashamed O!having made such a rash statement.
The VS-300 flew on its first test, but it was far from per£ ect. The control was very uncertain and the machine was damaged in landing. In the spring of 1940, "Igor's nightmare" was ready to undergo further trials. This time Sikorsky took the controls and lifted the craft into the air. The ship was still far from per£ect, and the next two years saw many improvements in the design and control of the helicopter.
The VS-300 was aviation's ugly duckling, and Sikorsky was very sensitive about the ship's appearance When asked why the ship was so crude appearing, he would explain, "If we had tried to build a pretty helicopter in the beginning, we would have wasted time on appearance." Changes continued to be incorporated until Mr. Sikorsky felt that he was ready to demonstrate his VS-300 to the Army. The Army observers were impressed with the trials, and as a result Igor Sikorsky received a contract to build a helicopter for the Army. ·
The old VS-300 now became a "guinea pig," and numerous theories were tested on her. Construction of the XR-4, the helicopter to be built for the Army, had begun, and no feature that hadn't been tested on her older sister was to be used in her design. Through previous experience the development of this ship progressed rapidly. On January 14, 1942, the XR-4 was taken out of her hangar and the initial tests were at hand. C. L. Morris, Sikorsky's chief test pilot, climbed into the cabin and started the 175 h.p. engine. The rotor began turning slowly. When the required speed of 150 r.p.m. had been reached, Morris gradually increased the pitch of the rotor blades. The wheels left the ground and Morris spent a jerky three minutes in the air. The main cause of the trouble was unfamiliarity with the ship. Before the day was over, the XR-4 had been off the ground 1or twenty-five minutes. This was indeed an accomplishment for an untested aircraft.
Hardly had ext~nsive tests begun, when the [ 12]
Army began clamoring for a demonstration. Mr. Sikorsky was able to delay the tests until May, but that was the absolute deadline. It should go without saying that this was a very short time to test this revolutionary aircraft. The experimental area became a veritable beehive of activity.
After a hectic two months Sikorsky felt that the XR-4 was ready for her debut. The demonstration was to be held at Wright Field in Dayton, Ohio. Mr. Sikorsky wanted to ship the helicopter, but "Les" Morris persuaded him to allow the era£t to be flown to Dayton. Morris knew that if the ship were flown to Wright Field, he would be the pilot. Everything was in readiness and the flight was scheduled for the second week in May.
When Morris climbed into the XR-4 on the morning of May 13th, Igor Sikorsky came out, shook his hand and said, "Well, Les, today you are making history." The flight from Bridgeport, Connecticut, to Dayton, Ohio, was uneventful. At Springfield, Ohio, Mo~ris picked up Sikorsky who flew the ship the remaining few miles to Wright Field. Under the watchful eye of high ranking Air Corps officials, the XR-4 was put through her paces. The performance was a complete success. The Army gave Sikorsky a long-term contract, and in the succeeding months Igor Sikorsky saw his dreams rapidly becoming a reality.
The helicopter is a very complicated machine and there are so many possible variations that it is impossible for one man to hold enough patents to cover all possibilities. Such has been the case with Siko!sky' s helicopter. At the present time, there are over twenty-five companies engaged in building helicopters. Most of the designs are very similar to that of Sikorsky, but there are a few that are so different they deserve mention. The Platt Le Page is one of the larger helicopters. Its designers have placed the rotors on long arms causing it to closely resemble conventional aircraft. The Kellet helicopter is usually referred to as the "eggbeater." This name implies more than one might think. The rotors of the Kellet ship intermesh similar to the beaters on its namesake. The most revolutionary of the new helicopters is the "Hiller-copter." This ship has co-axial, counterrotating rotors. The ship was designed, built, and tested by Stanley Hiller, a nineteen-year-old boy.
World War II was in its fifth year before the Army and the Navy began to receive helicopters in any great numbers. This kept the helicopters from
seeing action to any great extent, but they did perform numerous noncombatant duties. The few that did see action were extremely useful.
One of the most important military uses of the helicopter is that of rescue work. Helicopters can fly when all other types of aircraft are grounded. The first important rescue was carried out on January 3, 1944, when a Navy destroyer exploded off Sandy Hook, New York. Following is part of an editorial that appeared in The New York Times two days later:
Helicopter to the Rescue
Dramatic in its setting and purpose -was the demonstration of the practical utility of the helicopter in aid of men wounded by the destroyer explosion off Sandy Hook. Through snow squalls and sleet which kept all other types of aircraft grounded, Comdr. Frank A. Erickson, head of the Coast Guard aviation unit at Floyd Bennet Field, had no difficulty in taking off one of the experimental helicopters from that station and landing it at the Battery. Fourteen minutes later it gently set.tled on the beach at Sandy Hook with two cases of blood plasma for the survivors of the explosion .... The helicopter is proving its value in war. Its peacetime possibilities are obvious. There remain technical difficuLties which must be overcome in its development. We should not expect to see these machines buzzing commuters to work all over the land immediately after the war is over. But it should be clear that nothing can dim the future for a machine which can take in its stride weather conditions such as those which prevailed in New York on Monday. Another task to which the helicopter can be put is th;i.t of anti-submarine patrol. It would be ideal for both coastal and convoy work. The helicopter's traits of being able to hover and land on a very small spot make it excellent for this type work.
Also in the line of hovering is the job of serving as an artillery spotter, or of dropping men behind enemy lines. Other combat tasks which could be carried out by helicopters are those of laying tele• phone wire, liaison work, special photographic work, and numerous others. The world should hope that the helicopter will never have a chance to display its wartime potentialities, but if another war does come, indubitably an admirable job will be performed.
(Continued on page 23)
Play Ball!
PLAY BALL! The old familiar cry rang out on the baseball diamonds last month all over the country, and raised the curtain on another season of the grand sport started in this country by Abner Doubleday. Upon hearing the first strains of the battle call, the Red and Blue of the University, last year's State Champions, took up the challenge , and have gone a long way during the past few weeks.
Many of us have watched the Nine with fond eyes through the balmy spring afternoons , following their contests away from home with long-distance enthusiasm , and wished inside that they would be able to do equally as well on the championship trail this season. It's a fact , though, despite the interest shown in our team, that few of us have taken the time to look back through the records to discover how and when the game started at the University of Richmond, and how the teams fared way back then.
Perhaps, even if we do a good bit of research in the files of the local newspapers and the library, we will never know for certain when the horsehide was thrown in for the first time at this school. Why? Because, as far as can be traced, no one within inquiring range has the slightest idea of the exact date when our "Joe Colleges" first got the urge to whittle down a hickory slab and take a few cuts at the white sphere
It seems, basing deductions on an article in Monthly Musings ( ancestor of THE MESSENGER) that some of the eager beaver enthusiasts got together for the first time in 1876 with some of the boys downtown, grabbed themselves something round for a ball and took upon themselves the big job of representing Richmond College. They chose for themselves the name Osceolos. No one seems to know what this was supposed to represent. Perhaps some of our readers can tell us the answer. At any rate, this outfit played baseball-baseball
that was a credit to the school if the following quotation from the April issue of the 1876 Monthly Musings is any basis for judgment: "The first Nine of the Osceolos has been challenged to play a match game of baseball with a picked Nine of Randolph-Macon." This seems proof e.nough that the Yellow Jackets were our first rivals. The May issue of the magazine, for the same year, gives information concerning the outcome of that game.
"The baseball season of the College was opened several weeks ago by the reception of a challenge for a match game with Randolph-Macon. The Nine went up decorated with the pomp and paraphernalia of war, but nevertheless doubtful of success! The coming events cast wrong shadows! The game was played in about one and one-half hours , with a score of 11 to 6 in favor of the Richmond nine. The game was quite interesting with fine playing on both sides.
"The match has given quite an impetus to baseball, as we may judge, from the pride with which the boys displayed bruised hands and broken fingers, the rewards of the war path."
(C ontin ued on p age 23)
[ 14 )
HE (slyly): "I knew I'd like you the minute I heard about you."
SHE: "How did you know?"
HE: "One of my frat brothers was out with you last night."
Some kiss beneath the lilac bush, Others beneath the rose, But the proper place to kiss is- , Right beneath the nose.
" You seem to be coughing much easier this morning," said the doctor to his patient. "I should," said the patient. "I practiced all last night."
If a girl expects to win a husband she should exhibit a generous nature, or else exhibit how generous nature has been to her.
A clergyman was being shaved by a barber who was undoubtedly unnerved by a previous night's dissipation. Finally, he slipped and cut the preacher. The latter reproached the barber by saying: "You see my good man what comes of hard drinking."
"Yes sir," the barber replied. "It sure makes the skin tender, doesn't it?"
Four out of five women haters are women.
The professor who comes in late is rare. In fact, he ' s in a class by himself.
KING ARTHUR:"I hear you 've been misbehaving."
KNIGHT: "In what manor, sir?"
A naturalist is a guy who can always roll sevens. I call her "Checkers" because she jumps every time I make a move.
In the parlor there were three , She, the table-lamp and he.
Three's a crowd, there's no doubt, So the little lamp went out.
"How old is the baby?"
"Six months."
"Talk yet?"
" No, not yet."
"Boy, eh?"
-Mis-A-Sip.
"Did you hear about the Moron who went around breeding carrier pigeons with owls so that they could carry night letters?"
PAT: "Mike, what's the difference between Southern girls and South Sea Island girls?"
MIKE: "Well, Southern girls just chew gum but the South Sea Island girls are W riggley all over."
ENGLISHPROF.: "Punctuate this sentence: Miss Jones, the beautiful young lady, walked down the street."
STUDENT:'Td make a dash after Miss Jones."
If it is funny enough to tell, it's been told; if it hasn't been told, it's too clean; and if it's dirty enough to interest a first-yearman the editor gets kicked out of school.
"Oh, darling, I've missed you." And she raised her revolver and tried again.-Ohio State Sundial. Women change their styles-but their designs remain the same.
DEFINITIONS
ALIMONY:The high cost of leaving.
GEOMETRY:What the little acorn said after he had grown up-"Gee-om-etry."
HIGH CHAIR:That which a baby is fed up on.
DAIRYMAN'SMOTTO: "All that I am I owe to udders."
ADVICETO Co-ED: If you write illegibly when you sign out, it won't be so obvious when you come rn.
OLD MArns' LAUGHTER:He! He! He!
LIPSTICK:That which adds color and taste to the old pastime.
AN OLDMAN: One who pays more attention to the food than he does to the waitress.
[ 15 ]
CLASS LASS
FAYE HINES, of Richmond, Virginia, chosen by the Senior Class as the " best all-around girl. " Majoring in Physical Education and Psychology, Faye' s hobbies are sports (all kinds) and music. (We understand that she played the clarinet in her high school orchestra.) She reminds us of a field of daisies-clean snow-rippling waters.
[ 16}
Twelve Noon At The Beach
Tiny crabs all silvered
Run along the beach
A'tagging with the waveletsSplashing just out of reach.
Gulls in ruffled greyness
Screamingly soar by, • And, flashing in the sunlight, Disappear into the sky.
To The Sea
Long line of silence, beach and sand, Peace and discord hand in hand, Stalwart pine trees, booming surf, Gentle smiles and reckless mirth.
Gleaming moon and tide-washed shore, Sad hungry mouth requesting more, Crab-flecked shallows, murky tombs, Hidden subterranean rooms.
A picture, dark and brooding sea, You paint each night-of mystery. You rage at peace, and laugh at death, And whisper love with salty breath.
Nasturtiums
Vagrant, dancing, gypsy flowers, Trailing caravansLaughing, sparkling through the hours, Holding hands.
Let me someday be as free, Giving fragrance wild, Having your tenacity, Undefiled.
-FLORA JEANE ZBAR.
[ 17)
The Beaux' Stratagem
the words meaningless. But, after a few nights ' reading, as they became more familiar , the actors became aware of their rhythm as well as their subtleties. One by one the dubious stopped amazed and broke into laughter as the meanings began to grow clearer. Slowly, they began to put in the correct intonations and appropriate gestures that made these once seemingly senseless lines so obvious to the audiences. Muttered one actor: "This Archer is quite a guy." And another: "I used to think that Noel Coward was good. "
MOST of us when asked to do something immediately ask ourselves these questions: "Which is the easiest way to do this?" or, " Which way would be the least trouble?" It is natural to want to do everything easily or fast, to get it over with, even though the job to be done may be one we enjoy. Therefore, this spring we were surprised and pleased to have Mr. Maner of our Drama Department suddenly put thumbs down on the simpler drawing-room comedies and bedroom farces with their plain sets and modern clothes, and announced that he was about to delve into literature and produce George Farquhar's Beaux ' Stratagem.
Although the author of this play, an Irishman, died in poverty , the Beaux ' Stratagem has long been considered one of the best of Restoration comedies. It is quoted often in later literature. The heroine of Goldsmith's She Stoops to Conquer tries to emulate Cherry, the landlord's daughter, when she stoops! Lady Bountiful is equally notorious, as anyone who has read anything by Saki must know. Many famous ac,tors have played the leading role. Peg Woffington played Mrs. Sullen, Charles Kemble has played Archer, and even Scrub has been portrayed by Garrick. The play itself was dedicated to Mr. Wilks.
To many who have never played anything but the usual comedies which are enacted at schools, the lines seemed to be interminable, and many of
But putting on an old literary piece is more than just lines-it is mood and atmosphere; and actors, used to the underacting and sophisticated movements of modern drama, suddenly had to learn to overact, to gesture and to exaggernte. They had to learn to wield a sword, a pistol, or a fan. They had to learn to sweep a cloak across their shoulders, to manage a hoop through a doorway-gracefully. The women had to learn to look modest ( always a difficult feat), and the men to look bold ( a not so difficult feat) . They were helped along by the facile pantomiming and mimicry of Mr. Maner, whose knowledge of the period seemed boundless, though when confronted, claimed he got it all "from pictures."
Costumes had to start from inside out, as the cupboard was bare of anything. Indeed, costume preservation is so difficult in our Playhouse, with the lack of cupboard space and padlocks and the constant company of bats, that even if the costumes had been available from some earlier play , they would have rotted away long ago. Designs were drawn by Mr. Maner, who journeyed downtown for awning material and chintzes for waistcoats. All other material used was unbleached muslin dyed by this ingenious man. The colors were tested under lights for their "stageability" and finally sewed up by baffled drama students. Thanks to the dyeing, however, costume expenses were negligible.
Sets presented another thought. The Restoration stage, like the Shakesperian stage, had no exact scenery. The front was ornate with cupids and scrolls of the day, the back was a case of sliding panels for various scenes. To have a stage exactly like one of that day was an impossibility, [ 18]
and so we had an exaggerated impression of that stage, black and white drawings that looked as if they had come out of The New Yorker itself. There were all the ornamentations of the original . cupids and wreaths, with mournful Tragedy on one side and hilarious Comedy on the other side . . . complete with cardboard chandelier covered with tinfoil! The lack of color served only to heighten the dramatic colors of the costumes.
Six weeks of rehearsing, of planning moves , of staging, went on before the production was ready -nights when studying had to be done from tenthirty to midnight-long bus rides to th~ Playhouse and back. This was truly a work of love . . . curricular credit is not given for being in plays though it entails both English and Drama and sometimes even more. But at last all was prepared and all was ready.
And for what? The first night curtain went up on an audience of forty people, the second on thirty-five, the third on ninety! Make no mistake, they were excellent audiences and laughed uproariously throughout. They were intelligent audiences and were loved for their sympathy. But is it right that when something big and new is attempted, when a really good play is given, and worked at
and launched with enthusiasm . . is it right that it should be ignored? Some of the English Department counted it as parallel for their students, but even this did not bring them. Many who profess a great interest in drama or in English never appeared. To the actors who played to these microscopic audiences, it was infinitely discouraging. To the Drama Department, whose spirit had taken much battening to stand beside their ideals, it was heartbreaking.
But if not quantity, our audiences had quality. Dean Roberts of Westhampton, who was present the second night, found it "delightful." Miss Lutz was equally pleased at its "gaiety." Dr. Peple joined in the laughter heartily from the second row, as did also Mr. Wood, Mr. Guy and Mr. Martin. Mr. Hodges and Mr. Lockey from the Drama Department of R.P.I. and some of their students expressed pleasure. Miss Salley from the Drama Department of St. Catherine ' s and Miss Kendall of William and Mary were equally pleased. Their pleasure gives us reasonable assurance that our production was a success. But does it give us assurance that we should keep on producing?
A M p u s
V I E w s
By KENNY BUTLER
NOTES ON THE NOT ABLES: Dinah Shore matches her catchy and delightful sense of rhythm with a pure blues tonal quality to score another hit in her album Torch Songs put out by Columbia. Coming to New York in 1938 after graduating from Vanderbilt University, she immediately caught the ear of the public while singing at large movie houses. This led to a guest appearance with Eddie Cantor, Rudy Vallee, and others, and ultimately to her own radio show. Dinah hit the top when she was selected to do the vocals on the "Chamber Music of Lower Basin Street" series. Because of her outstanding work on this production she was acclaimed "Diva of the Blues." This was soon followed by top ratings in newspaper, magazine, and radio polls.
BE-BOP AND EUROPE: "Not only have the European musicians grasped the new harmonic and rhythmic nuances that I have introduced, they
have even let this supplant the old-time Dixieland jazz which so long held a place in their musical affections." This observation was made by the king Be-Bop, "Dizzy" Gillespie upon his return from his recent European tour. Fronting a large band of outstanding American musicians, he was greeted with enthusiasm wherever he played, and even in those places where he did not play personally. This was a far cry from the last trip Gillespie made to Europe. In 1938 he was playing with Teddy Hill when Hill made his tour of the Continent. Playing third chair behind two featured trumpet men, he was totally out of the picture. Now, ten years later, possessing a nickname, a goatee, glasses, beret, and revolutionary ideas concerning music, he was symbolic of the strides America had made in jazz while Europe was cut off. "Dizzy" commented on the small but very accomplished groups of Be-Bop performers and fans which were in evidence in practically every country played. These groups represent a substantial market for modern jazz. The entire situation resembles that of 1928-31 when the musicians and enthusiasts of Europe pushed the bands of Louis Armstrong and Duke Ellington into popular acceptance. One of the few disappointments met by the band was the refusal of the English Ministry of Labor to present concerts on the island. Although sanctioned by the labor unions, the band was still denied entry. The true keynote of the trip was the general acceptance and appreciation of the Gillespie ,type of music. This is very much in contrast to the small dent made by Be-Bop in the home commercial market.
FASHION PLATE
After examinations, come vacations-and the beach. Today we are to have a final lecture-"The Bare Facts About Beachwear." Combine a terrycloth "cover up," a bare-shouldered bra, and brief cuffed shorts of navy gabardine. Then, you will pass with high grades. The red toenails belong to Nancy Chapin. The young man with the look in his eye, and a high mark in clothes knowledge, is Bill Jordan. The yellow rayon inne,r-outer shirt is as cool as it is brilliant, and gives good contrast to the brown gabardine slacks. There is no doubt about it, there are few places where white buckskin shoes are not seen this year. All-in-all, a fine outfit to look at, and to be in.
Clothes courtesy of Miller and Rhoads.
[ 20}
FOTO
SHUTTERBUG SHOW SHOTS-Entered in the fir st annual University of Richmond Photographic Salon Exh ibition, sponsored by the Camera Club, and held in th e Library, May 3-7, were twenty-one prints of the high est quality.
The top four exhibition prints are shown here: "Palac e" (1), to win honorable mention for the exhibition, and first award in the Pictorial Feature class. This excell ent photograph is of the garden of the Governor's Palace in Williamsburg. " Coming Through" (2), by George Ne wman, shows William and Mary gridders scoring a touc hdown. Second award for the exhibition went to him fo r this action photo Helen W allerstein, Richmond Ballerin a, was caught in a leap for Morton Marks' fine print, "Gra n d Jete" (3). This brought him honorable mention for the exhibition, and first award in the Pictorial News Class. Ne wman exhibited another fine picture, "Canals-Venice" ( 4) , by John Fergusson, was taken while he was in the city of canals last summer. He won first award for the exhibiti on with this outstanding picture
Judges for the exhibition were: Dr. J. 0. Fitzgerald , J r ., and Messrs. A. L. Dementi, James Bullard, and Jose p h Colognori, top-ranking exhibition judges in Virginia.
[ 22}
Play Ball!
(Continued from page 14)
The Richmond boys like the idea of whamming the little round object all over the lot, and more and more of them turned out for the team. By 1890 they had a powerhouse, or whatever they called a tiptop outfit in those days. They rolled over Virginia, V.M.I., and Washington and Lee with a one-two-three punch, while garnering other laurels on the side to take the State Championship.
The saying "Once a rival, always a rival" can well be applied to our baseball teams. One of the annuals of the time lets posterity in on the secret that spirited squabbling with specific state institutions was in those days just as important as it is today. "It is a matter of regret that the University of Virginia was not able to give us games in 1893; as was the case the following year as well as 1896" says the 1898 edition of The Spider, predecessor of The Web.
It is interesting to note that the Red and Blue of 1893 was recognized as having the best ball club in the state. This is significant, but of even more significance is the fact that many of the oldtimers, as well as periodicals of the time, attribute the name "Spiders" to this group and its activities. In the 1897 annual we find that this name was given to a member, or members, of the team by a sports writer in one of his game accounts. Another source, J.
Here Comes The Helicopter
(Continued from page 13)
On seeing the amazingly short landings and take-offs that can be made by helicopters, many men think immediately of airport feeder systems from downtown roof tops. This is a very practical use to which this versatile craft may be put, but why limit it to such short hauls? The helicopter is perfect for serving as a feeder for all small towns within a radius of 150 miles of an airport.
Several companies have applied to the Post Offive Department for permits to fly airmail to rural communities using helicopters. This would eliminate the usual delay of sending the letters by truck or train the remaining distance from the nearest airport.
The Burlington Transportation Company has asked for permits to operate nearly 10,000 miles of helicopter routes. The Greyhound Company
an old friend of the school, has supplied a story that is even more definite as to the source of the name. According to this version, the name was given to one member of the team, for a specific reason, and later tacked on to the entire team. Still later, the name was given to other athletic teams of the University. The man to first receive the name was a phenomenally versatile athlete, H. K. Ellyson. It was during the season of 1893, while he was enjoying one of his great seasons as a pitcher for the Richmond team, that one of the opponents observed that his unusual ball delivery resembled a spider reaching out, with engulfing arms, to claim its victim. From this first cynical observation, his teammates took up the name, and it was soon given to them also.
The next time the team plays sit in the stands and watch them, and think over the improvements that have been made in the game since those bruising days. Quite a bit of color and science have been introduced. Perhaps you think the college game has become professional looking. Perhaps you think that in the old days they played just for the love of the game. How wrong you are. Around 1895 Richmond had on its first string baseball team a crack catcher of the Virginia League, and, in all probability, was not alone in talent scouting. Purity codes and conference rules have made a lot of changes, but the men of Richmond still play hard and to win.
-JIMMY PAYNE.
has the same thing in mind over the southeastern section of the United States.
One of the unique proposals for the helicopter is that of delivering passengers to ships at sea. This would eliminate the costly necessity of bringing the ship into port. Also it has been suggested that mail could be delivered to ships that were still several days out by water, but only a few hours by air.
It is very unlikely that the helicopter will ever become a serious competitor of cargo-carrying planes. In terms of weight lifted per horsepower, the helicopter is very inefficient. It is entirely possible that for carrying cargo to inaccessible places helicopters will be employed. Mr. Sikorsky made the following statement when asked about the lifting capacity of the helicopter: "For certain kinds of service, convenience of operation may prove more important than load-carrying efficiency."
[ 23]
The above statement lays open all the facts about the helicopter. At the present time, a twoplace helicopter costs approximately $20,000 as compared to $2,000-3,000 for the conventional type two-place plane. Due to the fact that the helicopter requires five to seven times more power to lift a load equal to one carried by a fixed-wing craft, it can easily be seen that the cost of operation is many times that of a regular plane. Because of the intricacy of its design and the necessity of frequent periodic inspections, the maintenance
cost far exceeds that for more common aircraft. Dual instruction in rotary-winged ships averages $18-20 an hour; whereas, an hour's instruction in a modern training plane costs only $9-12. Regardless of these and other disadvantages, it is a wonderful thing for those who can afford one, but at the present time its inefficiency would seem to prohibit any sudden swing to helicopters for all types of private and commercial use.
-WM M. WILLS.
Table Mats
(Continued from page 4) been thrilled to even be in the play. 'Tm Henrietta."
"An amusing part," said Andrew promptly.
"The story of Elizabeth Barrett Browning is very beautiful," Edith commented.
There was a general murmur of approval. And then Edith said, and to my surprise, proudly, "Janet is to play 'Bridget' in Shadow and Substance which the company is giving next."
I was congratulated in turn by each of the brothers. Stephen said apologetically that he didn't believe he'd read the play, if he had it had been a long time ago, and he'd forgotten it. Edith confessed that she didn't think she'd read it either. Andrew said he thought it was quite good.
There was a silence.
Laura, the cat, jumped up on the sofa and Edith put out a lean, graceful hand to pat her.
"Cats are such wonderful creatures," said Andrew.
"They improve a home so," said Stephen.
"Oh, God!" I thought.
I left as soon as I could. Stephen and Andrew said they were eager to see Miss Wood act. Very seriously, and at great length, they asked Edith if they could take her. She said, and I knew she was pleas~d, that that would be very nice. I wouldn't let her see me to ,the door but gave her my hand in the living room and said I would see them all backstage.
"It was nice seeing you, Edie."
'Tm so glad we could see each other," Edith returned and I knew it was only because of her guests that she was saying so much. Again she didn't smile, and again, impulsively, I embraced her. "Good-by," I said.
"Good-by, Janet."
I put on my coat and went out quickly. I could see them through the window as I walked away, the pretty woman, the two handsome men, sitting around the fire, so solemn and wrapped in seriousness. I knew that tears or laughter were useless, though I felt akin to both, for as clear as the November wind against my face was the realization that they were all very happy.
-GEORGIA KILPATRICK.
[ 24]
hom~d~o~s~'~,
Folk$, Gue$$ what I need mo$t?" then perhaps
Pepsi-Cola Co. We pay only for those we print. we can ease the parental burden. Pepsi-Cola Co.
As you might imagine, we'll be quite mad if you will cheerfully send you a dollar ... or even fifteen mention Pepsi-Cola in your gags. (Simply mad for gags you send in and we print. about it.) Remember, though, you don't have to Merely mark your attempts with yom· name,
enclose a feather to tickle our risibilities. Just make us address, school and class and mail to Easy Money $. laugh-if you can. We'll send you a rejection slip ... Dept., Pepsi-Cola Co., Box A, Long Island City, N. Y. if you can't.
GET FUNNY ... WIN MONEY ... WRITE A TITLE
"'
••• well, as long as I'm down here I'll [fill out my entry blank for the Pepsi-Cola 'Treasure Top' Contests."
Got a good line for this gag? Send it in! $5 each for any we buy (Don't worry about the caption that's already there-that's just our subtle way of reminding you about Pepsi's terrific $203,725 "Treasure Top" Contests. Latch onto entry blanks at your Pepsi-Cola dealer's today!) Or send in your own cartoon idea. $10 for just the idea - $15 if you draw it ... if we buy it.
January winners: $15.00 to Philip Gips of the Bronx, N. Y., and to Rosemary Miller of Mary Washington College. $5 each to Jerry H. O'Neil of Washington University, Jack Marks of Colµmbus, Ohio, and C. A. Schneyer of New York City.
E--SHEGAGS
You, too, can write jokes about people. Theee guys did and we sent them three bucks each for their wit. To wit: Joe Murray of Univ. of Iowa, Bob Prado of the Univ. of Texas, King MacLellan of Rutgers Univ. , and Ray Lauer of Cicero, Illinois.
She: Thanks for the kiss.
He: The pressure was all mine.
He: Yoo-hoo!
She: Shut up, you wolf!
He: Pepsi-Cola?
She: Yoo-hoo!!
She: What'sthebesttypeofinvestment?
He: Air mail stamps.
She: Why air mail stamps?
He: They're bound to go up.
She: If you kiss me, I'll call a member of my family.
He: (Kisses her)
She: (sighing) Brother !
Can you do better? We hope so. And we're ready to pay for it. $3 is waiting. Try and get it!
EXTRA ADDED ATTRA~TION
At the end of the year, w;;_'re ?~; . to review all the stu . we mg ht andtheitemwethmkwas t~;tg olall is going to get an extra $100.00
DAFFY
DEFINITIONS
$1 apiece is shamefully sent to C. R. Meissner, Jr. of Lehigh Univ., Bernard H. Hymel of Stanford Univ., T. M. Guy of Davidson College, and Irving B. Spielman of C. C. N. Y. In fact w.~•re almost sorry we did it.
Atlas-a geography book with muscle.
Spot-what Pepsi-Cola hits the. Paradox-two ducks.
Laugh-a smile that burst.
Hurry and coin a phrase you might face some coin. If that isn't easy money, we don't know what is.
l\lllE MORON CORNER
"Yuk, yuk, yuk!" we said when we read this. And promptly peeled off two crisp leaves of cabbage ($2) for June Armstrong, of the University of Illinois:
"How do you like my new dress?" asked the little moron's girl friend on the night of the Junior prom. "See, it has that new look-with six flounces on the skirt:'
"Duuuuh," replied our little hero, "that ain't so great. Pepsi-Cola's got twelve flounces!"
Do you know any little morons? If so, follow them, send us their funny utterances and we'll send you $2, too. Nothing personal, of course.
ffien you cltan_,e toOlterterfie/d THE FIRST THINGYOUWILL NOTICEIS THEIRMILDNESS thatsoecattJef!/lkir .Right(}J11zoination World}Be.rt:IboacctJs-
