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          <addrLine>Joyner Library, East Carolina University</addrLine>
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        <date>2012</date>
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          <lb />TRADE-MARK REG. VU. S. PAT. OFF.<lb /><lb />COCA-COLA BOTTLING COMPANY, GREENVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA<lb /><lb /><lb /><lb />WELCOME TO Compliments of<lb /><lb />RESPESS-JAMES<lb /><lb />~o~The Barbecue HouseT?T<lb /><lb />SOUTHERN GRAIN AND<lb />OIL, INC.<lb /><lb />INTERSECTION AYDEN-FARMVILLE HIGHWAY<lb /><lb />GREENVILLE, N. C.<lb />TARBORO, N. C.<lb /><lb />Phone PL 22-4160<lb /><lb />Know How, When and Where To Save<lb />ENJOY<lb />Your Money Profitably<lb /><lb />ee Carolina Dairies<lb />HOME SAVINGS AND<lb /><lb />LOAN ASSOCIATION<lb /><lb />405 EVANS ST. GREENVILLE, N. C.<lb /><lb />MILK AND ICE CREAM<lb /><lb />Grade A<lb /><lb /><lb /><lb />Be Sociable<lb /><lb />Have A Pepsi EPS OLA<lb /><lb />The Light Refreshment<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />"""""""""""" """E """"""""<lb />eee :<lb /><lb />The REBEL<lb /><lb />Published by the Student Government Association of East Carolina College. Created by the Pub-<lb />lications Board of East Carolina College as a literary magazine to be edited by students and de-<lb />signed for the publication of student material.<lb /><lb />VOLUME 3 WINTER, 1960 NUMBER 2<lb />TABLE OF CONTENTS<lb />Page<lb />EDITORIAL 7<lb />Faculty Advisor REBEL YELL 8<lb />Ovip W. PIERCE FEATURE<lb />An Interview With Paul Green 3<lb />STAFF ESSAY<lb />Raitor Universalism: Pearl Buck by Fred Ragan 13<lb />DAN WILLIAMS FICTION<lb />The House on the Swamp by Derry Walker 15<lb />Assistant to the Editor The Arrival by Coleman Norris 20<lb />ae wo Something In Common by Ronnie Gollobin 11<lb />mon =e aaadd POETRY<lb />SANDRA PORTER i ;<lb />Night Song by David C. Coxe 7<lb />Asst. Book Review Editor Father by Janice Brand 9<lb />a Green Willow Gold Willow by Janice Brand 9<lb />Art Editor The Letters by Janice Brand 9<lb />NELSON DUDLEY The Exam by Louisa May Hall 33<lb />Asst. Art Editor Sonnet 21 by Puck 22<lb />LARRY BLIZZARD Black Spot by Eric Smith 22<lb /><lb />Business Manager<lb />Woopy DAvIis<lb /><lb />ART<lb /><lb />oSummertime? (Experimental Photo) by Robert Harper. 2<lb />Exchange Editor oMachine? (Etching) by Larry Blizard 6<lb />James C. MILLER oThe Tavern? (Etching) by Emily Neale 10<lb />installa itis oWoods? (Pen and ink drawing) by Al Dunkle 18<lb />Sis atccey Sean oAlone? (Wood engraving) by Karen McLawhorn 19<lb />ARE ae oStudy of HeadT (Woodcut) by Emily Neale 28<lb />ASSUSTANTS TO te Ldaitors ay . ~ . .<lb />ie iene Pili ain oForms In Suspension? (Etching) by Rose Marie Gornto 34<lb />Par Farge oOf Sun and Sweat? (Etching) by Nelson Dudley 23<lb />ee MUSIC<lb />JOYCE WLUSTIAN . .<lb />Musical Note by Joan Eudy 12<lb />Typists Music As A Force In Campus Life by Marcelle Vogel 12<lb />CAROLISTA FLETCHER Mak, ot OPE<lb />LINDA ALLEN REBEL REVIEW 25-33<lb /><lb />FRANCES FOSTER<lb /><lb />Circulation and<lb />Advertisement<lb />Alpha Phi Omega<lb />Fraternity<lb /><lb />Reviews by Sandra Porter, Dr. Francis Adams, Dr. Edgar<lb />Hirshberg, Katherine Prytherch, Dan Williams,<lb />Dr. James Poindexter, Fred Ragan, Hugh<lb />Agee, C. W. Warick.<lb /><lb />COVER by Nelson Dudley<lb /><lb />=<lb /><lb />NOTICE"Contributions to THE REBEL should be directed to P.O. Box 1420, E. C.C. Editorial and business offices are located<lb />at 309% Austin Building. Manuscripts and artwork submitted by mail should be accompanied by a self-addressed envelope<lb />and return postage. The publishers assume no responsibility for the return of manuscripts or artwork.<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />~/<lb /><lb />wtih ® odil, ecgpgs . dpa S<lb /><lb />oSummertime? (Experimental Photo) by ROBERT HARPER<lb /><lb />2 THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>Interview With<lb /><lb />PAUL GREEN<lb /><lb />Note: The following interview will be printed in<lb />two installments, the second to be printed in the<lb />Spring Issue, and the opinions expressed herein do<lb />not necessarily reflect the views of the staff or of<lb />the administration of the College.<lb /><lb />Interviewer :<lb />regional writer?<lb /><lb />Mr. Green: Well, the word regional, I guess,<lb />is a good word for any writer to cling to as a<lb />definition or delimitation of interests. But you<lb />might ask, do you consider yourself even a writer,<lb />whether regional, national, local color, or what<lb />not.<lb /><lb />Well, I suppose, I do regard myself as a regional<lb />writer, maybe even more local than that, sec-<lb />tional, or local color, or what not. Most of my<lb />writing, except for the movies and these sym-<lb />phonic dramas, has been connected with a small<lb />section of North Carolina down in the eastern<lb />part of the state, poor whites, Negroes, mules,<lb />dogs, chickens, and all that sort of thing.<lb /><lb />Do you regard yourself as a<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you feel that the North Caro-<lb />lina background still remains an undeveloped area<lb />in so far as fiction goes?<lb /><lb />Mr. Green: Well, what do you mean by North<lb />Carolina background? Do you mean North Caro-<lb />lina life? North Carolina customs? Well, pretty<lb />much so. WeTve had the good work of that pioneer<lb />down there at Southern Pines, my old friend<lb />James Boyd who wrote Drums, Marching On, Long<lb />Hunt, Roll River"some very fine historical novels.<lb />Then, weTve had a few earlier ones, you know,<lb />Christian Reid and folks youTve never heard of<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />these days, but I heard of long ago. And of course<lb />we have Inglis FletcherTs good, honest, fine work;<lb />and we have quite a number of people who are<lb />working in that field; and, so, I think we are<lb />making progress.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you feel that North Carolina<lb />has been neglected in fiction?<lb /><lb />Mr. Green: Well, if you mean North Carolina<lb />has neglected herself in fiction, why, of course.<lb />Just as she neglected herself in all the arts, in all<lb />the sciences, and in all the great philosophies.<lb />North Carolina has never done her part in that<lb />glorious entourage of eponym spirits. We haven't<lb />had ever a first-rate composer, never a first-rate<lb />poet, never a first-rate scientist, that I know of,<lb />and we have had one first-rate sort of lyric novelist<lb />in Thomas Wolfe. YouTd hardly call him a novel-<lb />ist. HeTs a kind of a poetic, autobiographical.<lb />soaring voice. And, so, when we say North Caro-<lb />lina has been neglected, if you mean has she been<lb />done wrong by other people, why, heck no. Any<lb />kind of lack that North Carolina has had she<lb />has had through her own niggardly, lazy, poor<lb />white point of view about the arts. Well, I could<lb />talk for hours on that, so the answer is No.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: What are some of your favorite<lb />books on North Carolina life?<lb /><lb />Mr. Green: Well, of course, ITve liked a lot of<lb />individual books. We have here tonight one of our<lb />distinguished writers, Mr. Pierce. ITve liked his<lb />work. ITve liked Hugh LeflerTs historical stuff;<lb />and, as a young fellow picking cotton, I walked<lb /><lb />9<lb />vo<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />under the spell of John Charles McNeill, the poet<lb />who used to live down on the Lumbee River and<lb />down in Laurinburg. He used to work on the<lb />Charlotte Observer and wrote a couple of books<lb />full of nostalgia. He almost had the real stuff,<lb />and he had something"Songs Merry and Sad and<lb />Lyrics From Cottonland.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you feel that being a South-<lb />ener has its advantages for writing?<lb /><lb />Mr. Green: Now thatTs a good question. In a<lb />way it does. Maybe, yes and no. You got to re-<lb />member that there was a Concord school up there<lb />in New England, and they put out Longfellow, Al-<lb />cott, Emily Dickinson, Hawthorne, Whittier, Low-<lb />ell, William Cullen Bryant. They had more or<lb />less of a coolish, Emersonian environment. So<lb />you say, how do they turn out to be that? Well,<lb />somebody started breeding climate; and others<lb />added to it; and it got to be the thing to do, and so<lb />on. Well, in the South if experience is the first<lb />need for writing, then the South has had more<lb />experience than any other part of the country. It<lb />has experienced more hate; of course you have the<lb />abolitionists in the North but they were scattered.<lb />But there has been more hate in the South, more<lb />anger, more prejudice. There has been more sin,<lb />more sense of guilt; there has been more frustra-<lb />tion, more imagination. Still is, in the South.<lb />There has been more of the orator poet reach in<lb />the South. The South is acquainted with sin, more<lb />than any other part of the country. The South is<lb />the part of the nation that has suffered the humil-<lb />lation of military defeat. WeTve been occupied.<lb />This hill here was occupied by ShermanTs soldiers.<lb />The University was occupied. We had the carpet-<lb />baggers, the hate of the carpetbaggers, we had the<lb />Ku Klux here. My own uncle in Harnett County<lb />started the Ku Klux there and waited on old Reu-<lb />ben. He was a young Negro. Been talking sassy.<lb />And he opened the door, and Heck Gaskins was in<lb />front of my Uncle Heck. (They were both named<lb />Heck). Old Reuben had an axe and killed Heck<lb />Gaskins with the axe, and my Uncle Heck shot<lb />Reuben six times. Left him dying on the floor, he<lb />thought. Well, I lived to cut wheat in the fields<lb />with Old Reuben. He loved Uncle Heck better than<lb />his brother. When they would meet, they were bud-<lb />dies. So, we had more love, more friendship. The<lb />love between the Negro and the white is something<lb />wonderful to behold in the South. Has been. So,<lb />the material out of which art, writing and music<lb />can be made is here. We are just full of the drip<lb />of human tears. So, that if we can get rolling and<lb /><lb />4<lb /><lb />keep rolling, we might very well produce the great<lb />renaissance. WeTve had sporadic people like<lb />Faulkner, Wolfe, Eudora Welty, Tennessee Wil-<lb />liams, Red Warren, and these that are making this<lb />splash who, well Tom not so much, play a lot on<lb />violence ... yes.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you feel that recent develop-<lb />ments have borne out the wisdom of the Supreme<lb />Court decision concerning integration?<lb /><lb />Mr. Green: I talked to Carl Sandburg about<lb />this. I said, oCarl, letTs get out a statement.? He<lb />said, oHell, letum fight, letum fight.T?T He said,<lb />oPeople gotta bleed, you know, kill each other and<lb />so on.? And he said, oITm busy.? Like old Arch-<lb />imedes, he was drawing some figures in a tub of<lb />sand. He invented all kinds of things, discovered<lb />specific gravity. And the Roman soldiers captured<lb />the town and there was a shadow behind him.<lb />And he said, ~~Please stand out of the light.T?T Well,<lb />it made this Roman soldier mad, and he killed<lb />him, you know. Well I told Carl, oDonTt you see<lb />him?? Well, he said, oI got my poetry to write.?<lb />oStill there is a Roman soldier in the room with<lb />a spear. HeTs here.? oNo,? he said, oNo.? I told<lb /><lb />- Carl, oDonTt you see him??<lb /><lb />Well, itTs a question of right and wrong, I re-<lb />member talking to the President of the United<lb />States once as a humble citizen, and he said you<lb />couldnTt settle things today on the basis of right<lb />and wrong. I said, ~What do you settle them on??<lb />He said, oExpediency.? So I figured to myself I<lb />wouldnTt vote for him next time, because I re-<lb />membered George Washington who said that a<lb />nation was like a man, that it should have some<lb />code of honor, its obligations were sacred, its<lb />word was its bond. So here was the President of<lb />the United States saying you canTt do business<lb />that way. YouTve got to be expedient.<lb /><lb />Well, whatTs right? Was the Supreme Court<lb />right? It was right, it was right. Then the events<lb />that follow something that is right may be the<lb />events caused by people who are wrong. So, when<lb />you ask me, oHave the events borne out the wis-<lb />dom?? I have to answer that there are certain<lb />events. Some were caused by a man named Fau-<lb />bus. His events did not prove the unwisdom of<lb />the Supreme Court but proved the foolishness,<lb />the narrowness of Faubus.<lb /><lb />But, itis right that aman is aman. Jesus Christ<lb />said so, and I believe it. When he said, oSuffer<lb />little children to come unto me for such is the<lb />Kingdom of Heaven,? he didnTt say let the brown<lb />ones stay back or the black ones hide, bring on<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>the white ones. When Charlie Aycock said, oI<lb />want to educate all the people,T somebody said,<lb />oGodamighty, you mean all?? He said, oI mean<lb />all.? The Governor of North Carolina, not too<lb />long ago, told me right in there, ~o~I believe the<lb />way you do.? I said, oWhy?? He said, oI have<lb />to play it the other way.? HeTs told me that twice.<lb />He believes, but he says we have to go slow. I<lb />said, oHow slow?? Three hundred years we have<lb />been here; 1660 North Carolina started down<lb />there in the Currituck Peninsula. Over twelve<lb />million Negroes have lived and died here. Not six<lb />have reached their full potential. They work out<lb />here for me. Some with voices, they talk down<lb />around low C. Great voices, Lawrence Tibbetts in<lb />the Metropolitan. Could be, but never will be,<lb />until the Supreme Court has made its ruling. So<lb />we rob nobody but ourselves. A fellow came over<lb />here from Kinston, said, oJesus Christ, we people<lb />down in Kinston have built a four hundred<lb />thousand dollar school for the Negroes.? I said,<lb />oYes, and ITm sure tired of building for the Ne-<lb />groes; I want them to build for themselves. Pay<lb />their own taxes, get them up from here.?T So I told<lb />Luther Hodges, oNo wonder you go hunting for<lb />industry, but if over a million Negroes in North<lb />Carolina got good wages, were lawyers, doctors,<lb />owned farms, you wouldnTt have to hunt indus-<lb />~ry.<lb /><lb />About the time you fellows were ten years old,<lb />they had in North Carolina black arithmetic and<lb />white arithmetic. A Negro teacher with an A cer-<lb />tificate couldnTt get as good a price as a white<lb />teacher with an A certificate. Well, now they get<lb />the same pay with an A certificate. NobodyTs<lb />been hurt. So, right here in Chapel Hill, there<lb />are three or four hundred Negro boys and girls,<lb />fine bright minds but will never go to college,<lb />will never realize their full potential because they<lb />havenTt got money to go on. But they could go<lb />here, they could work on Saturday and at nights,<lb />they could somehow, they could borrow from the<lb />loan fund. So what a stupid thing, when a person<lb />just because he happens to be darker than some-<lb />one else has to sue for his rights. And Thomas<lb />Jefferson said that the purpose of a Government<lb />is to see that the talents of its people come to<lb />fruition. The Negro race is a talented race. So,<lb />every time we kick them down we rob not only<lb />them but ourselves.<lb /><lb />Of course, we are losing the confidence of the<lb />world, because we have been so slow. This hor-<lb />rible thing down in Mississippi, Emmet Till and<lb />this Parker boy"You young fellows gonna see<lb />things done right. You see, we wear this Christian<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />"""""""<lb /><lb />religion as something in our lapel. We donTt<lb />really believe in Jesus Christ. We go to Church<lb />and we pray to him and we adopt him as our folk<lb />God to fit our folk mores. But if you really be-<lb />lieve what that Man said, oBrotherhood: I am<lb />my brotherTs keeper,TT why yes, yes, yes. Jesus<lb />Christ didnTt know this prejudice. And He<lb />would have been the first to have said, Yes the<lb />Supreme Court is right, but a bit slow. But,<lb />thank God, they have given the truth, that is<lb />that no man is to be denied his rights because of<lb />his color. So the events have simply bubbled up,<lb />some due to prejudice, some to ignorance. So, as<lb />the Attorney General said to me, oGreen, youTre<lb />reckless.?T And I said to him, ~~Yeah, and you are<lb />too damn slow.? So we had quits. Some due to<lb />recklessness, some due to the tardiness, and so on.<lb />So, it has got to be, itTs got to be, and we have got<lb />to come to it. We have got a dull, dead fellow up<lb />there in Washington named Sam Ervin. I was<lb />in school with him, and I asked myself, oWhat<lb />did they teach Sam Ervin here at the University ??<lb />They didnTt teach much. Somehow, they didnTt<lb />reach him. So he fought this thing all the way<lb />down. I was in Asia and saw the results"the<lb />reaction of Asia to the Supreme Court. It made<lb />a tremendous difference.<lb /><lb />Interviewer: Do you feel that an important<lb />purpose is filled by undergraduate courses in writ-<lb />ing and college literary magazines?<lb /><lb />Mr. Green: Yes, I certainly do. I think that<lb />is all good, just like playing tennis, and baseball.<lb />You got to get out on the sandlot. You got to,<lb />you know, try. You gotta practice, practice, and<lb />this"all is encouraging " gives encouragement,<lb />gives a chance to practice. And it is a wonderful<lb />thing. We ought to have more of it everywhere.<lb />They even give doctorTs degrees at some of the<lb />Universities. And that is all good because you<lb />canTt do anything unless you try. And practice<lb />makes perfect, or, anyway, helps. So this is a<lb />wonderful thing, this thing you are doing down<lb />there, this magazine, thereTs nothing like it. There<lb />is a fellow coming here tomorrow from ReaderTs<lb />Digest, and heTs a nice fellow; we were talking<lb />on the phone today, and he says that he never<lb />gets over opening that letter and seeing that check<lb />in there for something heTs written. And he learn-<lb />ed, started writing for the magazine in college.<lb />Tom Wolfe used to write here at the University<lb />for the magazine, just kept it full of stuff. Gave<lb />him a chance to practice. And thatTs good"itTs<lb />wonderful.<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>oMachine?T (Etching) by LARRY BLIZARD<lb /><lb />6 THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>aa ECE<lb /><lb />A<lb /><lb />COMMENT TO REBEL READERS<lb /><lb />Spring Quarter, 1958, a group of students and<lb />a member of the English faculty decided that<lb />East Carolina College ought to have a literary<lb />magazine. This was a natural decision as far as<lb />they were concerned because they were creative<lb />writers, and they recognized the need for a crea-<lb />tive outlet for the student body as a whole. On<lb />our campus there were many activities that pro-<lb />vided an opportunity for self expression, but<lb />there was none offering a goal, an outlet, or a<lb />challenge, specifically for the creative writer.<lb />Through their efforts and initiative, The Rebel<lb />was first published. This group limited by a<lb />meager number of copies for a fast growing<lb />campus, by inadequate financial support, and an<lb />idea evoking almost no response, succeeded in<lb />presenting East Carolina College with a publica-<lb />tion that has made the initial steps toward a real<lb />creative potential. When the plans were made<lb />for the first issue, and material was being sought,<lb />there was no guarantee of any later issue. At<lb />the beginning of the 1958-59 school year. The<lb />Rebel was guaranteed its existence for only three<lb />issues. These three issues were a critical period.<lb />Lack of copies prohibited an adequate introduc-<lb />tion of The Rebel to the people on campus. Over<lb />half the student body never saw a copy. It<lb />was almost impossible to encourage students to<lb />submit their work to a publication of which so<lb />few were aware. Another formidable problem<lb /><lb />was the organization of an enthusiastic staff will-<lb />ing to spend time on a project with so little future.<lb />Then the question was asked, oDoes this magazine<lb />really serve a purpose?? This questionT was<lb />answered at a meeting of the Student Govern-<lb />ment in the Spring of 1959 when they voted<lb />unanimously to continue The Rebel. With the<lb />school year of 1959-1960 The Rebel doubled<lb />the number of copies of each issue, the staff was<lb />doubled, and most important of all, the students<lb />recognized The Rebel as their college literary<lb />magazine, and began to contribute actively. Mem-<lb />bers of the faculty have contributed some of their<lb />work and added their support. Now, in scme re-<lb />spects, The Rebel can represent a part of the<lb />creative talents at East Carolina College. In the<lb />future, through the exchange program, The<lb />Rebel will represent East Carolina on many<lb />college campuses; it will serve as a valuable proj-<lb />ect for those interested in publications; it will<lb />give the students and faculty the opportunity of<lb />examining some of the creative work being done<lb />on their campus, and most important of all, it<lb />will encourage young writers, perhaps recording<lb />their best efforts. Although our beginning was<lb />discouraging, the future holds promise. This<lb />yearTs staff and all the ones to follow owe a salute<lb />to that group who brought the idea to East Caro-<lb />lina College.<lb />"DAN W.<lb /><lb />NIGHT SONG<lb /><lb />The cool night winds<lb /><lb />Blow enchantingly across lonely moors<lb /><lb />Singing their ancient melodies<lb /><lb />To the glittering stars.<lb /><lb />Sing, O winds;<lb /><lb />For I abhor your silence,<lb /><lb />And the haunting refrains quench<lb /><lb />The restless stirring in~soul.<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />DAVID C. COXE<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />The Rebel Yell<lb /><lb />With the Winter Quarter The Rebel has at-<lb />tempted to present to the campus a wider range<lb />of student participation, and more variation in<lb />the material published. The increase in page size<lb />is necessary to keep pace with the growing amount<lb />of available material, the larger staff, and the<lb />stronger general interest in the magazine. The<lb />staff believes that there is room to grow, and<lb />that much still remains to be accomplished before<lb />The Rebel represents the full creative interests of<lb />the campus; we hope the efforts recorded on these<lb />pages are representative of the best creative work<lb />being done at the time at East Carolina College.<lb /><lb />The writing contest is another attempt to en-<lb />courage those students who have a sincere interest<lb />in writing; the deadline for entries was set for<lb />the first of February, but, due to the time in-<lb />volved in selecting the winning composition, and<lb />the steady flow of submissions, the closing date<lb />for the contest has been extended to the first day<lb />of April. The best essay, short story, or poem<lb />submitted will receive the prize, and will be one<lb />of the features of the Spring issue. The judges<lb />will be: Miss Mary Green, Dr. James Poindexter,<lb />Dr. Edgar Hirshberg, Mr. Hugh Agee, and Mr.<lb />Ovid Pierce, the advisor for The Rebel. All stu-<lb />dents are urged to mail their entries to Box 1420<lb />or to bring them by The Rebel office at 309 Austin<lb />building.<lb /><lb />APO Fraternity has joineed The Rebel staff as<lb />ex officio member. It will assist the business<lb />management in circulation and advertising. As<lb />a result of a vote by members of APO, The Rebel<lb />was adopted as one of its service projects. Interest<lb />such as theirs is important encouragement to the<lb />magazine editors. Added encouragement has come<lb />from the fact that a number of F'reshmen have<lb />joined the staff. They were chosen on recommen-<lb />dation by faculty members and are being trained<lb /><lb />kg<lb /><lb />Ww<lb /><lb />to replace editors graduating at the end of this<lb />school year.<lb /><lb />The art work for this issue was selected after<lb />a careful examination of the available work in<lb />the Art Department. Emily Neale, Larry Blizard<lb />and Rose Marie Gornto are past contributors, who<lb />have done some very fine work for The Rebel.<lb />Karen McLawhorn, Al Dunkle, James Smith, and<lb />James Sanders are newcomers who specialize in<lb />wood engravings, pen and ink drawings, and<lb />charcoal drawings. A new experiment in photo-<lb />graphy is also included by former Art Editor,<lb />Robert Harper. Nelson Dudley, presently Art Edi-<lb />tor, designed the cover and contributed the etch-<lb />ing oOf Sun and Sweat.? There are plans for an<lb />art contest for The Rebel to be held during the<lb />Spring Quarter.<lb /><lb />Featured in this issue is an interview with<lb />2aul Green which is one of the most valuable pre-<lb />sentations of the magazine; short stories written<lb />by Coleman Norris of the Business Department<lb />and Derry Walker of the English Department<lb />were chosen from the creative writing class. An<lb />essay on the writings of Pearl Buck by Fred<lb />Ragan was chosen because of its adept handling<lb />of the clash between cultures as is shown in some<lb />of the novels written by Mrs. Buck. The poetry<lb />was chosen from contributions by a number of<lb />past contributors as well as a number of new con-<lb />tributors and there are two selections by fresh-<lb />men. Featured in the poetry section is Janice<lb />Brand; the poetry by Mrs. Brand appearing in<lb />the last issue of The Rebel has been entered in<lb />the Arts Festival to be held in Greensboro this<lb />Spring. The book review section has been en-<lb />larged still further to provide a larger area of<lb />interest and a more complete coverage.<lb /><lb />The Editors would like to extend to any the<lb />invitation to criticize, or comment by letter. Let-<lb />ters will be printed in the magazine on an EditorTs<lb />page, with answering comments by the Editors.<lb /><lb />fe<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>Poetry BY JANICE BRAND<lb /><lb />Father<lb /><lb />Father! Father! Blood-tongued Neanderthal!<lb /><lb />Fury-browed Neanderthal!<lb /><lb />Kneel down again before your demon fire<lb /><lb />Kneel now beneath the cryptic antelope<lb /><lb />(Ten million revelationsT burnt your fire and<lb />smoke has charred your cryptic antelope)<lb />Father! Father!<lb /><lb />© nit ,<lb /><lb />CY 0eV oa<lb /><lb />Green Willow Gold Willow<lb /><lb />Children, listen:<lb /><lb />Soft within the circle<lb /><lb />of the green drenched waving willows<lb />softly there I drink forbidden dreams<lb />and softly there the secret tongues<lb />lament rising fluttering then made mute<lb />offering silvery serpents<lb /><lb />their strange luminiousant fruit... .<lb /><lb />Ye a<lb /><lb />Cw oy,<lb /><lb />Che Letters<lb /><lb />By God! I burnt them all<lb />and stood to watch<lb /><lb />the ebon rose shrink<lb />from the golden grasp;<lb /><lb />then fixed my foot firmly<lb />upon its breath,<lb /><lb />and thought how sweet,<lb /><lb />to watch black petals blow.<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960 9<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>oThe Tavern?<lb /><lb />10<lb /><lb />tO = arena eseen cane<lb />LOLOL LOLOL OL OO<lb /><lb />~<lb /><lb />net a ae<lb /><lb />on ne eae af<lb /><lb />eaecnenennenen<lb /><lb />(Etching)<lb /><lb />SS eee tee<lb /><lb />by EMILY NEALE<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>SOMETHING IN COMMON<lb /><lb />by RONNIE GOLLOBIN<lb /><lb />The door to the bar swung open and Martha<lb />Deidi walked out into the sunshine of the side-<lb />walk. Her high heels tapped down on the pave-<lb />ment and faded in the city traffic sounds.<lb /><lb />Inside the bar, Joe Cutler sat. An empty<lb />whiskey glass was in front of him. Mike Garcias,<lb />the bartender, came over to JoeTs table. No one<lb />else was in the bar. Mike spoke.<lb /><lb />oWill she come back??<lb /><lb />oT donTt know,? Joe replied.<lb /><lb />oWhere is she going??<lb /><lb />oT donTt know,? he said again.<lb /><lb />oDo you care for her??<lb /><lb />oT donTt know. She was just another girl at<lb />first.?<lb /><lb />oA year is a long time.?<lb /><lb />oTtTs not so long.?<lb /><lb />oTs she different from the others??T<lb /><lb />oT donTt know.?<lb /><lb />oWill you find another one??<lb /><lb />oT donTt know.?<lb /><lb />~Am I bothering you??<lb /><lb />oNo. I donTt mind talking about her.? Joe<lb />looked at his empty glass. Suddenly he looked up<lb />at Mike. oYou ever been in love, Mike?T Mike<lb />shrugged his shoulders.<lb /><lb />oWhat is love? I thought I was in love once in<lb />college. She told me she loved me and couldnTt<lb />stand for anybody else but me to even look at her.?<lb /><lb />oWhat happened??<lb /><lb />oShe eloped with another guy.?<lb /><lb />oSomebody she had dated before you??<lb /><lb />oNo. Some sailor she had known about a week.?<lb /><lb />oEver think about her??<lb /><lb />oSometimes. I got a letter from her last month.<lb />SheTs divorced and wants to see me.?<lb /><lb />oYou going??<lb /><lb />oNope. I donTt want to get hurt any more.?<lb />Joe stared at Mike. Mike stared out the window.<lb />Without looking around, Mike spoke.<lb /><lb />~How about you??<lb /><lb />oWhat about me??<lb /><lb />oWhat are you going to do about Martha??<lb /><lb />oT donTt know.?<lb /><lb />oWhy did she leave??<lb /><lb />oShe said that I didnTt really like her. That I<lb />was just giving her a run around.?<lb /><lb />oYou treated her like the others.?<lb /><lb />oYou have to.?<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />oDid she know about the others??<lb /><lb />oYes. She knew.?<lb /><lb />~o~What did she think about them??<lb /><lb />oT donTt know.? The bartender studied Joe for<lb />a moment then he spoke.<lb /><lb />oI think you love her.? Joe was silent for a<lb />long time before he answered.<lb /><lb />oT think I do too, now,? he said.<lb /><lb />b<lb /><lb />~Better tell her,TT the bartender said.<lb />oTlTve told her before. She knew I didnTt mean<lb />it then, and she wonTt believe me now.<lb /><lb />9?<lb /><lb />Will she come back?<lb /><lb />oGuess you are right. What are you going to<lb />do now??<lb /><lb />oWhat can I do? If she wants to come back,<lb />she will.?<lb /><lb />oSuppose she doesnTt come back??<lb /><lb />oT donTt know.?<lb /><lb />oWill you find another one??<lb /><lb />oT donTt know.?<lb /><lb />Outside, the sun was still shining brightly. In-<lb />side the dimly lit bar, Joe Cutler drank another<lb />whiskey sour. The bartender, Mike Garcias, wiped<lb />off the counter with a dirty rag.<lb /><lb />11<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />Musical Note<lb /><lb />Music is perhaps the most misunderstood crea-<lb />tive art; of all the arts more misconceptions exist<lb />concerning music than any other. A great num-<lb />ber of people never develop their musical potential<lb />beyond the more simple forms such as folk songs,<lb />popular favorites, and rock and roll. One of the<lb />reasons for the widespread appeal for this type<lb />of music is the fact that it requires so little effort.<lb />In classical music one particular selection may<lb />contain any number of themes or ideas. The<lb />theme or idea throughout the selection expresses<lb />the feelings of the composer and attempts to in-<lb />still a particular feeling within the listener. To<lb />appreciate and understand classical music one<lb />must sharpen his perception beyond the mono-<lb />theme which is the basis for rock and roll. Of<lb />course, there are compositions in all areas that<lb /><lb />are exceptions to the rule; however, classical.<lb /><lb />music for the most part is an ensemble which has<lb />expression far beyond the repetitious beat of rock<lb />and roll. The basic element in rock and roll is<lb />one continuous rhythm, whereas classical music<lb />varies from the simplest of solo melodies to the<lb />greatest symphonic work. For example, the sim-<lb />ple melody could be the song oTo Love Again?<lb />which was taken from the Eddie Duchin Story,<lb />and is the theme from ChopinTs E flat Nocturne<lb />written many years ago. Other such songs are<lb />heard daily and people enjoy them without realiz-<lb />ing that they are taken directly from a classical<lb />selection or varied slightly from the original.<lb />Some are:<lb /><lb />oDonTt You Know?T"Della Reese"taken<lb />from MusettoTs Waltz, LaBoheme, Puccini.<lb /><lb />oTTm Always Chasing Rainbows? " taken<lb />from ChopinTs Fantasie Impromptu.<lb /><lb />Phillip Morris Theme Song"taken from<lb />oOn the Trail,? Fred Grofe.<lb /><lb />oTonight We LoveT?"taken from Tschai-<lb />kowskyTs Piano Concerto No. 1.<lb /><lb />oFull Moon and Empty ArmsTT"taken from<lb />RachmaninoffTs Piano Concerto No. 2.<lb /><lb />ooWhereTT"Platters " taken from Tschai-<lb />kowskyTs Romeo and Juliet.<lb /><lb />12<lb /><lb />oT Love You, PorgyT?"Nina Simone"taken<lb />from GershwinTs Porgy and Bess.<lb /><lb />Creative arts owe their validity to the length<lb />of time they enjoy recognition; classical music<lb />as a creative art dates far back into history, per-<lb />haps increasing its popularity with each succes-<lb />sive year.<lb /><lb />In comparison rock and roll has a history of<lb />nearly a decade and is already on the decline.<lb />The reason for the lack of durability of the tem-<lb />porary music fads is evident when we examine<lb />the intricate process which precedes the develop-<lb />ment of a classical selection. Every classical<lb />musical composition requires a knowledge of mus-<lb />ical form on the parts of the composer, performer<lb />and to some degree, the audience. Rock and roll<lb />requires only the most elementary fundamentals<lb />which for the most part are nothing more than<lb />the recognition of a regular beat and three dif-<lb />ferent chords.<lb /><lb />In rock and roll the dominant expression is<lb />excitement, whereas in classical music the expres-<lb />sion can be a religious theme, one of happiness,<lb />sorrow, jubilation, or triumph. These can be<lb />fulfilled through voices, various combinations of<lb />instruments, tempo, dynamics or the difference<lb />in tonality.<lb /><lb />JOAN EUDY<lb /><lb />LYoeCWTod<lb /><lb />Nat<lb /><lb />Music As A Force In<lb />Campus Life<lb /><lb />Have you ever thought of what the campus<lb />would be like without any kind of music? With-<lb />out the performance groups, operas, musicals,<lb />and even without the radios, T.V. and record<lb />players that almost every student has access to?<lb /><lb />Music has become such a part of our life, that<lb />we have come to take it for granted, without<lb />realizing or thinking about the many new worlds<lb />it can open for us. Everyone loves some kind of<lb /><lb />(Continued on page 24)<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>Universalism:<lb />PEARL BU<lb /><lb />by FRED RAGAN<lb /><lb />A writer worthy of the title has something to<lb />say to man. Pearl Buck has something to say<lb />about two of our worlds; our limited secure<lb />provincial world, and our complex frustrating<lb />world of many cultures, strange manners, and<lb />varying standards.<lb /><lb />The works considered here, with one exception,<lb />The Good Earth, cannot be defended as an artistic<lb />presentation of an observation of life. Buck ap-<lb />pears to be more interested, at times, in the idea<lb />she is dealing with than in her characterization.<lb />Malcolm Cowley describes Buck with this state-<lb />ment, ~~Naturalists like to write about a communi-<lb />ty or social environment.? The world community<lb />is one of Mrs. BuckTs subjects. The objective here<lb />is to trace the arguments that appear in some of<lb />her writings for the world community, which is<lb />the universal thesis. For she does more than<lb />write about this community, she argues for it.<lb /><lb />Provincialism is a very real and strong feeling<lb />among men. As oneTs eyes are opened to the<lb />world beyond, usually it is to the immediate sur-<lb />roundings of a larger world within the nation-<lb />state. In The Good Earth, Wong Lung is forced<lb />by famine to move South and leave his beloved<lb />land. Here he becomes conscious of his differ-<lb />ences: his language, his diet, and his appearance.<lb />Wong Lung encounters a young man haranguing<lb />a crowd, oChina must have a revolution and<lb />must rise against the hated foreigners... .TT Wong<lb />Lung becomes frightened, believing he is the<lb />foreigner about whom the man speaks and moves<lb />away from the crowd. Wong LungTs feeling is<lb />provincial. His realm of experience has not en-<lb />compassed men in his own country. Little Josui<lb />has a similar experience in The Hidden Flower,<lb />a novel dealing with an inter-cultural marriage.<lb />Josui, a first generation Japanese-American in<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />California, is popular with her friends, but when<lb />Japan bombed Pearl Harbor, her friends became<lb />hostile. In this situation the people involved<lb />could not separate their feelings of hate from<lb />little Josui who brought to mind the bombing of<lb />Pearl Harbor. The actions of her friends is the<lb />result of a narrow provincial feeling.<lb /><lb />From the provincial conflicts within the nation-<lb />state, the line of argument can be traced next to<lb />the point of ideological impact when the cultures<lb />meet.<lb /><lb />Pearl BuckTs first book, Hast Wind: West<lb />Wind, reveals the astonishment of a young Chi-<lb />nese woman when she learns that other people be-<lb />lieve her habits, her customs, and her language<lb />queer. The Chinese woman listens to her husband,<lb />who has studied in America, tell her of life in<lb />America.<lb /><lb />He laughed when I exclaimed, ~Oh, funny"<lb />oh, strange!T ~No more strange than we are<lb />to them,T he said for some reason greatly<lb />amused.<lb /><lb />~What!T I cried in fresh astonishment. ~Do<lb />they think we are funny?T<lb /><lb />~Of course,T he replied, still laughing. ~You<lb />should hear them talk! They think our clothes<lb />are funny and our faces and our food and<lb />all that we do! It does not occur to them that<lb />people can look as we do and behave as we<lb />do, and be wholly as human as they are.T<lb /><lb />The husband serves as the agent through which<lb />Buck argues for the acceptance of the universal<lb />thesis. He stimulates his wife to think; Buck<lb />attempts to stimulate the reader to think.<lb /><lb />After the shock of the meeting, a clash develops.<lb />Not all creatures withdraw from the crowd as did<lb /><lb />13<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />Wong Lung. Some refuse to allow expressions of<lb />the new culture to invade their life. The old<lb />mistress in Hast Wind: West Wind refuses to<lb />accept the new way brought home by her son who<lb />studied in America. But as some will not accept<lb />the new, others accept it after a period of con-<lb />flict. In all cases, a conflict appears, and with its<lb />appearance there is struggle and sorrow. oThese<lb />are ruthless days for the old. There is no com-<lb />promise possible between old and young. They<lb />are as clearly divided as though a new knife<lb />hewed a branch from a tree.?<lb /><lb />After the initial encounter of the cultures, a<lb />universal feeling emerges in some shape or form.<lb />The brother, in Hast Wind: West Wind, is re-<lb />jected by his family. His American wife gives<lb />birth to a son, the oworld child.? The brotherTs<lb />sister, after contemplating the sorrow which<lb />brought the oworld child? into being and the<lb />beauty of the child, wishes the o~world child?T o~to<lb />be a brother to my son.?<lb /><lb />Josui, who had been carried back to Japan by<lb />her parents after the war began, accepts the<lb />universal thesis without great anxiety. But she<lb />realizes that her American husband cannot give<lb /><lb />up what is demanded by the combination of cul-T<lb /><lb />tures that make up the universal thesis.<lb /><lb />Mrs. Buck makes another strong argument for<lb />the thesis in a scene with Dr. Stiner, a refugee<lb />from HitlerTs Germany, who accepts JosuiTs child,<lb />after the mother decides she no longer wants the<lb />oworld child.?<lb /><lb />At first, you must know, we could not imag-<lb />ine that they really killed little children of<lb />mixed blood. It was not your blood, but it<lb />was my blood, mixed with the Germans. They<lb />said we must have only pure blood"as though<lb />human blood is not pure wherever it is found!<lb /><lb />In East Wind: West Wind, The Hidden Flow-<lb />er, and Command the Morning, scientists are the<lb />instruments through which the universal thesis<lb />is projected. The knowledge of science is used<lb />as in the above quote to add substance to the<lb />thesis.<lb /><lb />And finally there is the attitude toward the new<lb />life which is created or destroyed because of the<lb />meeting of the cultures. Dr. StinerTs helper de-<lb /><lb />fends the ~o~world child? from the bitterness of<lb />their neighbors.<lb /><lb />~Lennie ainTt Japanese,T she retorted. ~HeTs<lb />different from any baby I ever did see.T<lb /><lb />~Especially,T they said cruelly, ~when your<lb />son was killed by a Jap.T<lb /><lb />She still bled at the heart when her Sam<lb />was mentioned, but she said, ~It wasnTt Len-<lb />nie that did it for sure.T<lb /><lb />The husband of the Chinese woman in East<lb />Wind: West Wind consoles his wife when she<lb />reflects on the sadness which was necessary for<lb />the oworld childTsT? conception. oThink only of<lb />this"with what joy of union he came into the<lb />world! He has tied together the two hearts of<lb />his parents into one. Those two hearts, with all<lb />their differences in birth and rearing"differences<lb />existing centuries ago! What union!?<lb /><lb />Mrs. Buck emphatically maintains that a com-<lb />bination of the cultures is a beautiful union. She<lb />approves of the union of East and West, and she<lb />has high hopes for the new creations coming<lb />forth. East is East and West is West and the<lb />twain shall meet!<lb /><lb />In her latest book, Command the Morning, Mrs.<lb />Buck attacks the problem of manTs ultimate loyal-<lb />ty. Is it to man? Or is it to a political unit? This<lb />book deals with the scientist and his conflict while<lb />creating the atomic bomb. One point of conflict<lb />was the question of the use of the bomb. And<lb />after it was used on Hiroshima and Nagisaki,<lb />each of the American scientists displays a sense<lb />of guilt. The European born scientists continue<lb />to work to ban the bomb from further use.<lb /><lb />The philosophical question raised is one of<lb />value. Mrs. Buck argues emphatically for the<lb />world community. Each of the major characters<lb />in Command the Morning withdraw from any<lb />work which can be connected with destruction<lb />after the bomb is used. Typical is Jane, a brilliant<lb />young physicist, who changes her area of research<lb />to biology, the study of life.<lb /><lb />Pearl Buck adheres to the idea that mankind<lb />is one. The question of our highest human value<lb />is raised and her position is unequivocal. But any<lb />question of human value must be individually<lb />considered.<lb /><lb />14<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>TT<lb /><lb />THE HOUSE ON TH<lb /><lb />Se = ae<lb /><lb />SWAMP<lb /><lb />by DERRY WALKER<lb /><lb />ee<lb /><lb />ee ee<lb /><lb />Wie ty Nex che<lb /><lb />me, a<lb />¥ eet \ BA<lb />a<lb /><lb />n<lb /><lb />Suddenly there was no floor beneath him.<lb /><lb />oWhat a road,T Dave muttered as his car<lb />bounced over another series of rough bumps.<lb />He glanced at the speedometer and noticed he was<lb />only moving a few miles per hour, yet he felt<lb />he was going to bounce through the roof of the<lb />car any minute.<lb /><lb />His headlights shone on the lumpy clay road<lb />ahead. Rain speckled his windshield but there<lb />wasnTt enough for the wipers yet. By his head-<lb />lights and by the occasional big flashes of light-<lb />ning he could see the thick undergrowth on both<lb />sides of the road. The closely knitted dark green<lb />foliage looked impenetrable.<lb /><lb />oA Salem witch wouldnTt buy land around<lb /><lb />here,? he thought. He leaned forward and squint-<lb />ed at the distance ahead. He wished silently that<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />the lightning would come more often; he was<lb />afraid his headlights would miss the side road<lb />he was to take. He chuckled softly as he recalled<lb />how he had gotten into this predicament. He<lb />was the unlucky pledge who happened to be con-<lb />venient when the two fraternity brothers were<lb />looking for someone to harass.<lb /><lb />oPledge,? one of the brothers had said, ~~you<lb />are going to be an errand boy tonight. I left a<lb />coonskin cap in the house on the swamp. Now I<lb />think a lot of that cap and I want it back, so you<lb />go get it.?<lb /><lb />They didnTt tell him where the capTs exact loca-<lb />tion was, only that it was in the house and he had<lb />better find it. So here he was.<lb /><lb />The storm broke and waves of rain crashed<lb /><lb />15<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />against his windshield with each gust of wind.<lb />The clay road began to melt into a shapeless<lb />mess, and he felt the rear end of his car slide and<lb />he cursed the storm. He thought about the house<lb />on the swamp. Haunted, they said. There was a<lb />ghost legend behind it. He remembered hearing<lb />it discussed one night when he and some of his<lb />friends were swapping yarns about legendary<lb />spooks. The house had been unoccupied for thirty<lb />years, ever since the family that lived there had<lb />been killed. There had been much talk about the<lb />murder. Some said that it had been done by<lb />robbers; others said it was done by a maniac who<lb />was on the loose; a few said it was done by a<lb />monster that inhabited the dingy swamp"a mon-<lb />ster that wandered along the edge of the sy vamp<lb />about this time of year.<lb /><lb />Dave laughed aloud as he thought of the mon-<lb />ster legend.<lb /><lb />oCrazy people in this world,? he smiled. Ab-<lb />ruptly he checked the smile as he caught sight of<lb />a break in the undergrowth a few yards ahead on<lb />his right; there was the road to the house.<lb /><lb />oNow,? he mused, oI'll get in there and get<lb />that cap and get out of this forsaken place.? He<lb />cut the wheel sharply and headed into the road<lb />to the house. It was an uphill climb and a wind-<lb />ing one; low-hanging limbs raked across the top<lb />of his car and he heard the tall weeds rub the<lb />underparts of it as he passed over them. Rain<lb />came so hard, his windshield wipers could scarcely<lb />work fast enough.<lb /><lb />The little road seemed endless; he drove on and<lb />on watching the eerie scenery creep by. The storm<lb />was reaching its peak. The wind grappled with<lb />the vines and scrubs, twisting them about un-<lb />mercifully, revealing the luminous bottoms of<lb />their leaves. The sudden drop in temperature had<lb />caused his windshield to fog, and he turned on his<lb />defroster. At length, the road grew wider, and<lb />he saw in the distance ahead what appeared to be<lb />a Clearing; he shifted out of low gear into second<lb />and increased his speed.<lb /><lb />All at once he emerged from the leafy passage-<lb />way. His headlights projected their beams across<lb />a hundred and fifty yards of weedy terrain into<lb />another wall of trees and undergrowth on the<lb />opposite side of the clearing. To the right of his<lb />lights and above him, he saw a huge dark form<lb />at the top of the hill. A tremendous crack of<lb />lightning nearby revealed an immense gray struc-<lb />ture with large gables; four tall columns support-<lb />ed the roof at the front door. The windows were<lb />wide and the few shutters that had not blown<lb />away hung by one or two nails. The building was<lb /><lb />16<lb /><lb />Zs<lb />Se<lb /><lb />OK<lb />o ~<lb /><lb />x<lb />&gt;<lb /><lb />x<lb />. \ \<lb />eas - Sat may,<lb /><lb />+<lb />_=sedeee<lb /><lb />\)<lb />~<lb /><lb />ae<lb /><lb />*<lb /><lb />aaa<lb /><lb />de<lb />ge<lb />wast<lb />A<lb /><lb />co<lb /><lb />BACK a . SY<lb />Oe \ YY<lb />AAS ~s PEARSON<lb /><lb />Re<lb />Ne i<lb />peteT<lb /><lb />.<lb /><lb />Then he put his shoulder against it and shoved<lb />it open.<lb /><lb />square and very tall. A steel rail fence surrounded<lb />it. This is the house on the swamp, thought Dave.<lb /><lb />Dave came to an obstacle he had not expected.<lb />The steel gate in the fence was closed. He stopped<lb />his car and stared at it for a second, then opened<lb />the door and stepped out. The wind wrenched<lb />the door from him and slammed it shut. The<lb />~ain pounded him fiercely and nearly blinded him<lb />as he made his way to the gate. He felt his cloth-<lb />ing stick to him as the rain drenched him. He<lb />fumbled with the catch in the gate and finally<lb />heard it click, then he put his shoulder against it<lb />and shoved it open.<lb /><lb />He jumped back into his car and drove through<lb />the opening. He felt water running off his fore-<lb />head into his eyes and he felt it trickling down his<lb />back. He was soaked. He drove as close to the<lb />front of the house as he could and stopped. His<lb />lights played on the porch and the huge oaken<lb />door. He reached under the seat and groped for<lb />a flashlight. Finding it, he raised up and pushed<lb />the switch for his headlights in: he started in<lb />his seat and jerked the switch out; he had seen<lb />something move; he knew it, but now it was gone.<lb />Just as his lights died, he saw a form leap from<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>the porch into the darkness, but when he snap-<lb />ped them on, it was gone.<lb /><lb />Dave thought for a moment.<lb /><lb />oSo,? he whispered to himself, otheyTre going<lb />to try to put the scare on me, are they?? He<lb />laughed to himself as he thought about how much<lb />trouble his big brothers in the fraternity must<lb />have had planning this one. They sure were<lb />going to be disappointed, because he wasnTt<lb />scared. He cut the headlights off again and step-<lb />ped out of the car. He snapped on his flashlight<lb />and jumped onto the porch. He found the knob<lb />on the door and turned it; nothing happened.<lb />He put his shoulder against the huge door and<lb />shoved; it resisted at first, then gave finally and<lb />swung around on its heavy iron hinges. Dave<lb />flashed his light in a half circle before him. Just<lb />to his left, stairs led to the second floor. The<lb />banisters leaned away from the stairs and ap-<lb />peared on the verge of toppling over. Wall-paper<lb />hung in shreds from the walls and the floor was<lb />littered with ancient debris. To his right an arch-<lb />way led into a large room which appeared to be a<lb />sitting room at one time. The hallway in which<lb />he stood led by the stair-case and ended at a door<lb />which probably led to rooms in the rear of the<lb />house. Slowly, he brought his light to bear on an<lb />open doorway a few feet in front of him. He<lb />stopped and jerked his head in that direction;<lb />his heart beat against his spine and he felt his<lb />legs grow numb. His reaction to what he saw<lb />seemed to rise abruptly to the base of his skull<lb />and explode, sending thousands of pin pricks<lb />across his forehead and down his back.<lb /><lb />He took one step backward and stared at the<lb />four huge fingers that curled around the door-<lb />facing. Each finger was as large as three of his,<lb />and was almost hidden by coarse black hair. They<lb />ended in dark jagged nails, like claws. The hair<lb />on the fingers glittered in the beam of his flash-<lb />light and he saw a drop of rain-water fall from<lb />them onto the floor. The someone or something<lb />to whom the fingers belonged was wet, and must<lb />belong to the same being he had seen leap from<lb />the porch when he switched off his headlights.<lb /><lb />His eardrums echoed his heartbeats and his<lb />stomach seemed to shrivel into nothing. He pivot-<lb />ed quickly and darted into the archway on his<lb />left and as he did so, he heard a thump behind<lb />as if someone had taken a sudden leap forward.<lb />He pushed his legs hard against the floor and<lb /><lb />ran across the huge sitting room. He whirled -<lb /><lb />to the right at the other end of the room and<lb />lunged through a doorway, bashing his knuckles<lb />as he flung open the door. He heard another<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />thump, closer behind him than before, and he in-<lb />creased his speed. His foot slipped and he fell<lb />to one knee, but was up running again until he<lb />came to a door. He wrenched it open and felt a<lb />muscle strain in his back as he darted through it,<lb />then, suddenly there was no floor under him and<lb />he catapulted downward. His flashlight flew from<lb />his hands and he felt his knees grate against<lb />heavy steps; he somersaulted over as he crashed<lb />downward and finally smashed to a stop on a<lb />heavy oaken floor. His head roared and his ears<lb />buzzed; his body burned all over and his muscles<lb />ached, and then he heard laughter all around him.<lb />He opened his eyes and looked up. In the sparse<lb />light from kerosene lamps he saw girls and boys<lb />looking down on him, laughing. All his big bro-<lb />thers in the fraternity were there, and there were<lb />as many girls.<lb /><lb />oCongratulations, pledge,? one brother laughed,<lb />ovou made it to the party.? More laughter. oWeTre<lb />having a surprise party for all the pledges out<lb />here tonight. Those that get here get free beer.<lb />Those that chicken out get a firm paddling. YouTre<lb />a good boy, you didnTt chicken out.TT One brother<lb />came forward and helped him up. The others<lb />continued laughing.<lb /><lb />oYou all right?? he asked.<lb /><lb />oYeah, sure,? Dave quavered. oBut how...<lb /><lb />oOh, we all left our cars about a mile from here<lb />and walked, so there would be no tracks. We<lb />watched you come all the way. We were going to<lb />go up and get you if you started to leave. We told<lb />all you pledges to come out here. . . each separ-<lb />ately. But itTs all over now.?<lb /><lb />oBut...? Dave began.<lb /><lb />oPerfect night for it, isnTt it?T the brother<lb />asked.<lb /><lb />oRight,? Dave agreed. The others laughed<lb />again. oBut whoTs upstairs?? Dave asked, rub-<lb />bing his hip. oGod, what a scare.? Everyone<lb />laughed harder.<lb /><lb />The brother by Dave laughed with them.<lb /><lb />oNo oneTs upstairs,? he giggled. EverybodyTs<lb />down here, you nut. CanTt you see that?? By<lb />this time, everyone was weary of laughing. Some<lb />of the brothers held their sides.<lb /><lb />oNo one is upstairs?? Dave asked.<lb /><lb />oNo one,? the brother repeated. ~~We decided<lb />just to let you guys scare yourselves. CTmon, and<lb />have a beer.? The brother smiled and walked<lb />away. Everyone smiled. But Dave didnTt smile<lb />back. He looked at the stairs and the open door<lb />at the top with only darkness beyond it, and he<lb />didnTt smile at all.<lb /><lb />99<lb /><lb />17<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />é fs s,<lb />ZS INA<lb />aS<lb /><lb />= wen? p"#-<lb />~yep ops<lb /><lb />mS ~'5<lb /><lb />oWoodsT?T<lb /><lb />(Pen and Ink Drawing) by AL DUNKLE<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />ooAlone?T (Wood Engraving) by KAREN MCLAWHORN<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />The Arrival<lb /><lb />by COLEMAN NORRIS<lb /><lb />lst. Lt. Bob Andrews had been stationed over-<lb />seas for two years prior to his transfer to the<lb />states. He had fifteen days before he was to re-<lb />port to his base in California so he decided to<lb />spend a few days at home. This was only his<lb />second day home, but already he had become<lb />restless. Ever since his high school days he had<lb />been like this; just hated to sit home.<lb /><lb />oMom, I think I will ride out to Gteaanws<lb />farm and look it over. ItTs been so long since I<lb />walked over it, and I promised Grandmother I'd<lb />come out today anyway.?<lb /><lb />oAlright, Bob, but donTt stay over a couple of<lb />hours. We'll have supper around six oTclock.?<lb /><lb />After driving out into the country for about<lb />ten miles, he turned off to the right on the dirt<lb />road that led to his GrandfatherTs farm. He<lb />stopped the car under the oak tree in the large,<lb />shady front yard and walked up the dirt walk<lb />to the screened back porch.<lb /><lb />He walked on into the house without bothering<lb />to knock. He saw his Grandmother bending over<lb />the cook stove in the kitchen so he tipped on in<lb />and said, ooHey guess whoTs here??<lb /><lb />His grandmother jumped, dropping the spoon<lb />she had in her hand and whirled around. She<lb />stood still for a moment"an expression of sur-<lb />prise and happiness covered her face. She rushed<lb />toward him with her arms out stretched.<lb /><lb />oWell Lord have mercy, Bobby!? she exclaimed,<lb />and then could say no more as the words were<lb />choked with tears.<lb /><lb />His Grandfather had heard the commotion, and<lb />came rushing into the room and the hugging was<lb />repeated.<lb /><lb />After about thirty minutes of answering his<lb />grandparents questions, Bob said, oI think I'll<lb /><lb />20<lb /><lb />walk over the place. Want to come, Grandpa??T<lb /><lb />~oNaw, son, I ainTt up to it. My backTs been<lb />giving me trouble lately. But you go ahead.?<lb /><lb />Bob walked down by the barns and down the<lb />hill through the pasture. After about fifteen<lb />minutes he came to the pines that separated the<lb />large pasture from the tobacco fields.<lb /><lb />He got on the path and continued to walk<lb />through the woods until he came to a creek. He<lb />stopped and looked down into the clear, fast mov-<lb />ing stream of water. He looked for a long moment<lb />before he realized that he was looking at himself.<lb /><lb />He saw the reflection of a boy in the water. Not<lb />a different person in his mind, one completely un-<lb />attached to him. The only relationship between<lb />them would be that the grown man would remem-<lb />ber the boy and the boyTs childhood, but they<lb />wouldnTt be the same person.<lb /><lb />He then looked over to the right and saw the<lb />gully he used to play in when he was small. We<lb />walked over to it and stood for a moment and<lb />then ran down the side to the bottom. There were<lb />still some of the old rusted tin cans lying around<lb />that he had brought there when he was small.<lb />It was funny, but he couldnTt remember for what<lb />purpose he had used them.<lb /><lb />The wall of rocks that he built was still there.<lb />He had built it to keep wild Indians out when he<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>as a cowboy, to fight the enemy with when he was<lb />a soldier, and for a hundred other purposes.<lb /><lb />He sat down on the wall and let his thoughts<lb />once again drift back into the past. It was so odd,<lb />he thought, how he was still very much like the<lb />kid that used to play here during the summers<lb />of years past.<lb /><lb />He had always wanted to be a lawyer and live<lb />in a big city. He would be a different person.<lb />That was the only way he could conceive or<lb />picture the future.<lb /><lb />He wouldnTt even look the same. Except for<lb />his mother and father and grandparents, he<lb />wouldnTt ever come back here.<lb /><lb />He would have good looking girls all the time<lb />and a big pretty apartment. And talk! He would<lb />be able to say anything he wanted to in such a<lb />big and right way. He would know all of the big<lb />important people and have plenty of money,<lb />enough so he could spend it any way he wanted.<lb />He would be grown then and would retain no<lb />part of the boy. He would emerge just like a<lb />butterfly from a cocoon.<lb /><lb />But as he sat there he realized just how little<lb />he had changed. He had grown up a little, but<lb />not over a couple of feet. He didnTt even feel as<lb />big as a grown man had looked when he was<lb />small.<lb /><lb />He just couldnTt leave the kid behind. His<lb />thoughts were not those of a different person. It<lb />had not been fourteen years ago, but just a little<lb /><lb />REET ETT<lb /><lb />while. There hadnTt been the revolutionary change<lb />or the expected transformation in himself.<lb /><lb />Even Christmas and his birthday came every<lb />twelve months now instead of just once a year,<lb />as they had when he was small. His thoughts<lb />were broken by the gear rattling on some mules<lb />coming down the path from the field. Bob stood<lb />up to look out of the gully and saw two mules led<lb />by Uncle Thes. Uncle Thes was the old colored<lb />man that tended the place for Grandpa and had<lb />been tending it as long as Bob could remember.<lb />As they were crossing the creek, Bob walked out<lb />of the gully.<lb /><lb />Uncle Thes looked old and tired now. His<lb />hitchup overalls were patched and dirty, his faded<lb />blue shirt was wet with sweat. His worn bro-<lb />gans and the bottoms of his overall pants were<lb />damp and muddy from crossing the creek. A<lb />dirty felt hat sat down on his head, but still little<lb />blotches of his white wool-like hair were visible.<lb />Slowly his cracked, tired voice rose and fell to the<lb />rhythm of an old spiritual. oITm patiently waiting<lb />for dat great day when the trumpets will blow. I<lb />know itTs a coming, just a little while longer<lb />down here.?<lb /><lb />Uncle Thes limped along; the mules tramping<lb />behind. The animals seemed to be walking in<lb />slow unison to the beat of the deep-pitched song<lb />he was singing.<lb /><lb />To Bob this brought back many old memories.<lb /><lb />(Continued on page 32)<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />21<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />22<lb /><lb />SONNENT 21<lb /><lb />How dissolutioned of fate so unkind<lb /><lb />To search for and never find<lb /><lb />Till star studded patterns twisted our way<lb />Destined our meeting one blue skyed day<lb /><lb />Surely Venus mothered our design<lb />And created this ecstasy so sublime<lb />A wonderous joy from us hidden<lb /><lb />Patiently waiting a thing forbidden<lb /><lb />Then bursting forth as Phoebus light<lb />Thus it came when all was right<lb />Filling our hearts from that day<lb />With love lasting for eternity<lb /><lb />Infatuations, fate, from ours must reign<lb />To fleeting loves passed, all in vain<lb /><lb />PUCK<lb /><lb />BLACK SPOT<lb /><lb />Down the unhushed jubilant street<lb />The blind man hobbles and falls<lb />Through doors of dampness<lb />Rattling with cups not tin.<lb /><lb />Loose cobbles bump his toe<lb />Shoulders jostle his<lb /><lb />As he makes his stumbling way<lb />Down the thoughtless avenue<lb /><lb />Coal burns in the coal-black day<lb />The horse trot rumbles<lb /><lb />He reaches for the distaste"<lb />Full human touch<lb /><lb />Clambering by ridged-surfaced walls<lb />With only one black spot.<lb /><lb />This strange, familiar<lb /><lb />Cane-tapped earth.<lb /><lb />ERIC SMITH<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>SS<lb /><lb />uv<lb /><lb />(Etching) by NELSON DUDLEY<lb /><lb />oOf Sun and Sweat?<lb /><lb />23<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />MUSIC AS A FORCE IN<lb />CAMPUS LIFE<lb /><lb />(Continued from page 12)<lb /><lb />music. Tastes may differ with the person and the<lb />occasion, but in the end for enjoyment, entertain-<lb />ment, or relaxation people instinctively turn to<lb />music. For intense listening a person may enjoy<lb />a Beethoven Symphony, or a Mozart sonata, but<lb />for light listening or dinner music heTll probably<lb />turn to Percy Faith, or some other popular orches-<lb />tra or band.<lb /><lb />What would we do if we never came in contact<lb />with music? If we didnTt have a radio to turn<lb />on when we went back to the dorm or the room<lb />for the evening? Music seems like a basic part<lb />of life; in fact music gives added meaning to life.<lb />In an age of science which emphasizes the material<lb />aspects of living, there is all the more need for<lb />the leavening qualities of music. So many people<lb />are moving so fast, and perhaps with no purpose,<lb />that they donTt take time out to relax and take<lb />stock of themselves. Music soothes us when we<lb />are depressed, and adds to the enjoyment when<lb />we are happy.<lb /><lb />Music is necessary to help man find his moral<lb />and ethical balance, his spiritual destiny, his<lb />search for truth. One might say that music speaks<lb />directly to the heart. Through the study of the<lb />music of a people, one begins to understand much<lb />of their culture. What could be a better history<lb />lesson than to listen to and analyze the music<lb />from the different ages, and countries? MozartTs<lb />chamber music, conatas, concertos, church music,<lb />and serenades were in the eighteenth century tra-<lb />dition. To know a Mozart minuet or trio is to<lb />sense the feeling of a courtly and aristocratic<lb />people. Likewise, the music of Spain, their<lb />glorified dance forms and colorful, descriptive<lb />music, helps one to develop an understanding of<lb />the people of Spain. The contemporary music of<lb />today helps one feel the ever-changing and un-<lb />certain condition the world is in.<lb /><lb />The music that has come into being through the<lb />centuries is a priceless heritage and can be a<lb />source of enduring beneficence in human life.<lb />Music is also a way of reviewing things that have<lb />been important in the lives of people, even though<lb />they may be far apart both in time and space.<lb />All phases of life are found in the songs of man-<lb />kind. Music has accompanied almost every race<lb />of mankind in its joys and sorrows. It has been<lb /><lb />24<lb /><lb />a part of ceremonies and merry-making. Even<lb />before music was recognized as an art, it lightened<lb />the burden of tedious tasks.<lb /><lb />Music gives a basis for forming value judg-<lb />ments. In calling upon oneTs faculties, power, and<lb />attention music teaches concentration. To enjoy<lb />and analyze music, one must be able to sit down<lb />and listen to the music, observing its style, form,<lb />and the composerTs individual way of composing.<lb />Music also helps one to be a well rounded individ-<lb />ual.<lb /><lb />One can feel closer to the cultural aspect of life<lb />if he has experienced hearing an opera, a good<lb />symphony orchestra, or perhaps a good dance<lb />band. That is why our Entertainment Series com-<lb />mittee is striving so hard to bring to the campus<lb />appealing programs, with music to suit every<lb />listening taste. So far, they have brought to the<lb />campus Giuseppe Campora, famed Metropolitan<lb />opera tenor star; Richard Cass, pianist from<lb />Greenville, S. C.; the internationally famous Vit-<lb />torio Giannini, as guest conductor for the college<lb />orchestra; and the Festival Company from Nor-<lb />way. Many more such groups are yet to come<lb />this year, including the U. S. Navy Band, Fred<lb />Waring and the Four Freshmen.<lb /><lb />Among the many musical performance groups<lb />on campus are the college bands, orchestra,<lb />choir, WomanTs Chorus, College Singers and the<lb />dance bands. Other valuable phases of music<lb />on campus are the Opera Theatre productions, and<lb />the annual musical show. In past years this group<lb />has presented oCarousel,? oOklahoma,? and oKiss<lb />Me Kate,? all well known Broadway musicals.<lb />This year they plan to present oAnnie Get Your<lb />Gun.?<lb /><lb />Listening to music is in itself one of the most<lb />important phases of a program of music educa-<lb />tion. Through listening, children and adults alike<lb />can have contact with music beyond that which<lb />they are likely to perform for themselves.<lb /><lb />The music appreciation course strives to in-<lb />terest the students in forms of music other than<lb />those they usually hear on radios and juke boxes.<lb />More students are inclined to listen to and buy a<lb />good classic record after they have really come in<lb />contact with and have learned to appreciate all the<lb />kinds of music. Before one can like something,<lb />he first has to give it a try.<lb /><lb />The students should be justly proud of all the<lb />musical advantages which our college has to offer.<lb />The force is certainly here, and with just a little<lb />effort on the studentTs part, they can develop<lb />culturally in music, as well as socially and in-<lb />tellectually.<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>THE REBEL REVIEW<lb /><lb />Reason Is the Remedy<lb /><lb />The Seeds of Time. Henry Savage. New York: Henry<lb />Holt &amp; Company. 1959. $4.50<lb /><lb />The South Strikes Back. Hodding Carter III. New York:<lb />Doubleday &amp; Company. 1959. $3.95<lb /><lb />Finally, out of the great deluge of books con-<lb />cerning the South and her problems has come a<lb />really worthwhile book, a work in the tradition of<lb />The Mind Of The South. The Seeds Of Time by<lb />Henry Savage in this book. Savage, a native<lb />South Carolinian, carries out well his stated ob-<lb />jective, exploring the background of Southern<lb />thinking. Every facet of the SouthTs past, from<lb />prehistoric times to very recent history is ex-<lb />plored. Savage is a perceptive exponent of ration-<lb />alism as a means of both understanding and solv-<lb />ing our dilemmas. All of the factors which he<lb />unearths as being important in the background<lb />of Southern thinking are too numerous to men-<lb />tion. However, the two most basic factors are:<lb />the extreme ruralism of the South and the pres-<lb />ence of the Negro in large numbers. A result of<lb />the geography of the region, ruralism manifests<lb />itself in Southern hospitality and the great em-<lb />phasis on church and political gatherings. But its<lb />most important manifestation is in the extreme<lb />conservative thinking of most of our area. The<lb />impact of mind on mind through urban living<lb />makes for a greater degree of liberalism, of<lb />thinking in accord with the times. As for the<lb />Negro, Savage sees two main factors. The old<lb />oOthello? prejudice (standard emotional equip-<lb />ment of persons of Anglo-Saxon, Celtic and Ger-<lb />manic origins) is the first. Its counterparts are<lb />the prejudice of the Boer and Briton in South<lb />Africa, the Englishman in India and Hong Kong.<lb />This is not essentially a Southern characteristic<lb />as such. It appears so because the South possesses<lb />a greater degree of Anglo-Saxon, Celtic and Ger-<lb />manic ancestry than other parts of the country.<lb />The second factor concerning the Negro is an<lb />economic one. An educated, integrated Negro<lb />poses more competition in an area which is already<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />economically second to the rest of the country.<lb /><lb />This writer considers Henry Savage a truly<lb />admirable writer with a valid message for us all.<lb />In this book he preserves his integrity as a writer,<lb />as a rationalist, as a Southerner, and as an Amer-<lb />ican. The book is as objective as any human<lb />work can be. Injustices to the South are duly<lb />recognized as injustices but with the realization<lb />that we cannot live in the past, but in the present.<lb />At the same time, misdeeds and mistakes of the<lb />SouthTs own making are pointed out. These offer<lb />opportunity as well as responsibility.<lb /><lb />As Southerners today, we know well the in-<lb />tense love, loyalty and pride which we feel about<lb />anything concerning the South, a separate entity,<lb />the South. The feelings which arise at the sight<lb />of the Stars and Bars, and most of all, that feel-<lb />ing unlike any other, which results when we hear<lb />the sound of oDixieT?T are close to all of us.<lb /><lb />But we must recognize the truth of SavageTs<lb />message for us. He should be allowed to speak<lb />for himself since he does it so well. ~~Those who<lb />speak of an impending choice of ways speak with-<lb />out the perspective of history. There is no such<lb />choice. That choice was made years ago when<lb />the South embraced change, chose the American<lb />way and sealed its choice by truly remarkable ac-<lb />complishments and deep commitment. Now the<lb />only choice remaining to the South is one of the<lb />means of resolving difficulties now flowing from<lb />its irrevocable commitments to the American way.<lb />It is fatuous to think that there can be any revo-<lb />cation of those commitments to progress. Society,<lb />like all other living organisms, must grow or die.<lb />If Southerners can accept. . . the fact that just as<lb />man cannot be an island unto himself, so, also in<lb />the closely knit world society of today, no society<lb />can be an island unto itself and if they can accept<lb />the fact that the dogmas of a stagnant past are<lb />inadequate to the dynamic present then, in one<lb />way or another, acceptable solutions to the SouthTs<lb />formidable problems will be forthcoming.?<lb /><lb />Another valuable view, not only of the SouthTs<lb />problems, but also of the unfortunate steps that<lb />have been taken to rectify them, is presented in<lb />The South Strikes Back by a native Mississippian,<lb /><lb />25<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />Hodding Carter III. Carter traces the growth and<lb />development of the White Citizens Councils. This<lb />organization ohas far greater influence than its<lb />ancestor of the 1920Ts, the Ku Klux Klan.? The<lb />Council is dedicated to maintaining segregation<lb />and the reactivation of states rights. Although<lb />the early Councils alleged that they were pledged<lb />to achieve their goals without violence and by<lb />legal means, they became increasingly radical as<lb />time went by. By 1955, they had their own news-<lb />paper, secret police and underground. In the<lb />meantime, the Council had spread from its home<lb />state of Mississippi throughout the South, with<lb />especial strength in the lower South. The weapons<lb />of this group are: appeal to emotionally rooted<lb />prejudice and the feeding of warped egos concern-<lb />ing such subjects as owhite supremacy? and<lb />oracial amalgamation?. This is to say nothing of<lb />economic boycotts against anyone suspected of<lb />integrationist sympathies.<lb /><lb />Carter places the responsibility for the power<lb />which the Council wields squarely on the should-<lb />ers of moderate white Southerners who literally<lb />went underground in the face of the furor about<lb />the Supreme Court decision in 1954. This is the<lb />element which perhaps could have saved the day<lb />had they not been afraid to seize the initiative.<lb /><lb />Both Henry Savage and Hodding Carter are<lb />optimistic to the extent that they believe that the<lb />forces of emotion and prejudice which now ride<lb />the crest will inevitably be destroyed because<lb />they comprise an essentially negative movement<lb />founded on the defense of the status quo and<lb />dedicated to its preservation. ~Defense of the<lb />status quo, as history has shown often enough,<lb />is an arduous task at best. When in a democracy<lb />such as ours, it involves the repression of a minor-<lb />ity, it becomes an impossibility.?<lb /><lb />These two Southern writers make a real plea<lb />that we, as intelligent, civilized people, return to<lb />the art of thinking, of employing our rational<lb />faculties. This is a plea that we cannot afford<lb />to ignore.<lb /><lb />SANDRA PORTER<lb /><lb />Queen of An Era<lb /><lb />Elizabeth the Great. By Elizabeth Jenkins. New York:<lb />Coward-McCann, Inc. 1959.<lb /><lb />This story of EnglandTs first great Queen Eliza-<lb />beth is a rarely found and beautiful combination<lb /><lb />of sound scholarship and narrative skill. Miss<lb /><lb />26<lb /><lb />Jenkins makes Elizabeth come alive both as a<lb />sovereign and as a woman. Her significant addi-<lb />tion to the mass of biography that already has<lb />been accumulated probably will be in her contri-<lb />butions to our knowledge of Elizabeth as a person-<lb />ality, rather than in her conclusions about her<lb />historical importance.<lb /><lb />Most striking of Miss JenkinsT hypotheses is<lb />her theory concerning ElizabethTs spinsterhood.<lb />The question of why the most eligible woman in<lb />the western world remained single throughout<lb />her life has vexed biographers for centuries. Miss<lb />Jenkins thinks that the reason was her funda-<lb />mental fear of marriage as an institution, as<lb />exemplified by the fatal unions between her<lb />father, Henry VIII, and his various but fated<lb />wives.<lb /><lb />In particular the beheadings of Ann Boleyn,<lb />ElizabethTs mother, and Catherine Howard,<lb />HenryTs fifth wife, made irrevocable ElizabethTs<lb />terror of marriage among royalty. She was eight<lb />years old when CatherineTs execution took place,<lb />and from that time onward, according to Lord<lb />Leicester-"one of her later suitors"she had al-<lb />ways said, oI shall never marry.?<lb /><lb />But Miss JenkinsT book is a full-length biogra-<lb />phy, not merely an account of the abortive at-<lb />tempts that were made to find an acceptable hus-<lb />band for Elizabeth. The intrigue of her court,<lb />the story of the victories of her navy over the<lb />Spaniards, the long, heart-breaking preamble to<lb />Mary, Queen of ScotsT execution, her final years<lb />as a near-deity"all are told with the verve of a<lb />first-rate novelist combined with the scrutiny of<lb />the scholar. Touches of her personal life"such as<lb />how she dressed and ate and spent her leisure<lb />time"finish off a picture which to most of us<lb />has been incomplete. Miss Jenkins converts her<lb />from the cold, queer virgin of the historian to the<lb />vibrant, high-strung, intensely intelligent woman<lb />she really was.<lb /><lb />My only reproach to Miss Jenkins is that the<lb />mention of William Shakespeare is never made in<lb />her book. That the greatest English Queen and<lb />the greatest English dramatist could live out their<lb />years simultaneously and yet never have an im-<lb />portant association is to me inconceivable. Shakes-<lb />peare scholars know that there were many such<lb />associations, and Miss Jenkins, ITm sure, knows<lb />too. If this biography has a defect, it is in the<lb />omission of any attempt to correlate the lives and<lb />influence of these two giants of the English Ren-<lb />aissance.<lb /><lb />Dr. EDGAR HIRSHBERG<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>From Homer To Wolf<lb /><lb />Your Literary Heritage. Frederic E. Faverty. Philadel-<lb />phia: J. B. Lippincott Company. 1959. $3.95<lb /><lb />Here collected are eighty little essays by Pro-<lb />fessor Faverty of the English Department of<lb />Northwestern University, dealing with selected<lb />literary works in chronological order from the<lb />Odyssey to Look Homeward, Angel. The purpose<lb />of the essays, all of which originally appeared in<lb />The Chicago Tribune Magazine of Books, is oto<lb />stimulate interest in some of the masterpieces of<lb />world literature.? (The unfortunate title"IsnTt<lb />it his literary heritage, too?"probably has the<lb />same intent.)<lb /><lb />Each essay begins with some facts about the<lb />authorTs life, moves to a sketchy account of his<lb />work in general, and finally concentrates on a<lb />particular work. Although the essays contribute<lb />nothing new, either by way of information or<lb />insight, occasional rewardingly happy phrases ap-<lb />pear; for example: oHousman .. . has not been<lb />dead long enough for us to determine whether he<lb />will live.?<lb /><lb />Because these essays are aimed at the generality<lb />of newspaper readers (of whom Professor Fav-<lb />ertyTs opinion, however low, is higher than that<lb />of the average newspaper reporter) and because<lb />they are so short, they are vulnerable to obvious<lb />attacks that in the circumstances would be un-<lb />fair. Be it said, then, that these essays, however<lb />short and superficial, do stimulate interest and<lb />that the thirty-seven-page bibliography of edi-<lb />tions in print of the works discussed, a biography<lb />and a critical work on each author, is only further<lb />evidence of Professor FavertyTs desire to assist<lb />the inexperienced reader.<lb /><lb />Dr. FRANCIS ADAMS<lb /><lb />Pretty and Perfiduous<lb /><lb />La Belle. Elizabeth B. Coker. New York: Doubleday and<lb />Company. 1959. $4.95<lb /><lb />Marie Boozer was known throughout the South<lb />as the provocative, beautiful daughter of Amelia<lb />Boozer. Although her mother was unacceptable<lb />to Southern aristocracy because of her Northern<lb />sympathies, Marie was loved by all who met her.<lb /><lb />When Sherman marched on Columbia, South<lb />Carolina, Amelia openly declared her loyalty to<lb />the Union army and proved to be a valuable spy<lb />for General Sherman. AmeliaTs actions were<lb />prompted by her obsession with wealth and power.<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />_ which so well embellish the text.<lb /><lb />Marie was forced to leave Columbia with her<lb />mother as Sherman evacuated. The people of the<lb />South thought that Marie was also a Northern<lb />sympathizer and so did the Confederate soldier<lb />with whom she was in love.<lb /><lb />As the shock and pain of her loverTs desertion<lb />wore off, Marie looked forward to a new life in<lb />New York City. At first Marie was bitter and<lb />unhappy in her new role, but gradually she be-<lb />came accustomed to life in the North, especially<lb />after she met the handsome Union officer, Lloyd<lb />Phoenix.<lb /><lb />Because of her motherTs plotting, Marie found<lb />herself hopelessly entangled in a scheme to be<lb />married off to a rich, elderly gentleman. Despite<lb />her marriage, Marie found herself still drawn<lb />to the dashing Union officer with such intensity<lb />that she could not resist his charms, even in the<lb />face of an international scandal.<lb /><lb />Seldom has a novel been written that so closely<lb />followed the actual facts concerning a personTs<lb />life. In her book, Elizabeth Coker has printed<lb />the historical facts pertaining to the life of Marie<lb />Boozer above each chapter head and with her<lb />own vivid imagination has filled in the details.<lb />The ruthless burning and calculated killing by<lb />Sherman in the cities of the South are graphically<lb />portrayed in these pages, especially centering<lb />around the city of Columbia, South Carolina.<lb /><lb />KATHERINE PRYTHERCH<lb /><lb />They March Again<lb /><lb />They Who Fought Here, Text by Bill Irvin Wiley, Illus-<lb />trations by Hirst D. Milhollen, N. Y.; The Macmillan Co.,<lb />1959"$10.00.<lb /><lb />Bill Irvin Wiley wrote books entitled, The<lb />Life of Johnny Reb and The Life of Billy Yank<lb />which are still in print in one volume under the<lb />title of The Common Soldier In the Civil War.<lb />Through a great knowledge of contemporary<lb />diaries and letters the author tells in text with the<lb />aid of 207 graphic photographs by Hirst D. Mil-<lb />hollen all about those who fought here both North<lb />and South. Mr. Milhollen turned to public and<lb />private collections, libraries, museums, and his-<lb />torical societies for his selection of photographs<lb />Divided We<lb />Fought, Presidents on Parade, and The Declara-<lb />tion of Independence are other outstanding books<lb />of which Mr. Milhollen edited the pictorial content.<lb /><lb />oJoining Up?, oRations?, oClothing and Shel-<lb /><lb />27<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />EMILY NEALE<lb /><lb />by<lb /><lb />(Woodcut)<lb /><lb />4 of Head?<lb /><lb />«<lb /><lb />oStudy<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb />28<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />ter?, oWeapons?, oDiversions?, oCrime and Pun-<lb />ishment?, oMorals and ReligionT, oThe Sick and<lb />Wounded?, and ~Pass the Infantry to the Front?<lb />are some of the pictorial and written accounts that<lb />for the most part are given an adequate presenta-<lb />tion. In many of the pages there is a real insight<lb />into the feelings of the soldiers; there are answers<lb />as to why some fought: ~Quiet fell and presently<lb />the man who had lost a leg inquired, ~Why did you<lb />come down here anyway, fighting us?T Equally<lb />without emotion but with much pride, the man in<lb />blue whose arm was gone replied, ~For the old<lb />flag.T ?T<lb /><lb />The text and illustrations also tell who they<lb />were: oFrom paper hangers to pianists, from lads<lb />of eleven and twelve to determined graybeards<lb />approaching eighty, from scholars whose haver-<lb />sacks held Greek and Latin textbooks to farm-<lb />hands who could not read at all.<lb /><lb />Sometimes the account is saddening, often<lb />poignant, and in some instances amusing. For<lb />example there is some amusement in the statement<lb />about what they wore: ~One hole in the seat of the<lb />breeches indicates a captain"two holes a lieuten-<lb />ant and the seat of the pants all out indicates that<lb />the individual is a private.?T<lb /><lb />In over-sized format we have a rendition of<lb />what it was like to enlist and leave the homes, to<lb />march the long roads north or south, perhaps to<lb />die. They Who Fought Here, tells us about those<lb />who were oOut in the sunlight, in the dying day-<lb />light, and under the stars, they stood, and although<lb />they could not advance, they would not retire.?<lb /><lb />"DAN W.<lb /><lb />Manners, Morals and Metaphysics<lb /><lb />The Book of the Courtier. Baldesar Castiglione. New<lb />York: Doubleday Anchor Books. 1959. $1.25<lb /><lb />One evening in March, 1507, the group of bril-<lb />liant courtier-humanists who make up the circle<lb />of Duchess Elizabetta Gonzaga of Urbine gather<lb />with the ladies to entertain and edify themselves<lb />with conversation. (This, of course, is because<lb />there is no TV available.) The subject for conver-<lb />sation, formally chosen and ratified, an analysis<lb />of the qualities of the perfect courtier, proves to<lb />be of such interest to those present that the dia-<lb />logue is prolonged for three more evenings.<lb /><lb />To us busy, restless moderns, the whole thing<lb />is likely to seem absurd, a mere fiction. Thus we<lb />will not be surprised to learn that in fact we are<lb />dealing with a great fabrication, and that Castig-<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />lione, a man of many parts, is on a mission to<lb />England at the time and therefore is in no posi-<lb />tion to record the talk which his book contains.<lb /><lb />Yet this is but another case where fiction is<lb />truer than mere reporting, for if these conversa-<lb />tions were never actually spoken as Castiglione<lb />gives them, they could have been, since the Renais-<lb />sance was one of the great ages of courtly conver-<lb />sation; and his work does in fact represent the<lb />spirit of the age better than do any literally fact-<lb />ual documents which have come down to us. Here<lb />we see brilliantly reflected the urbanity and hu-<lb />mane tolerance, the breadth of philosophic and<lb />artistic taste and curiosity, the thrust toward true<lb />knowledge and total perfection, which are so<lb />characteristic of one side, at least, of that violently<lb />contradictory period.<lb /><lb />The dialogues themselves, after the fashion of<lb />good talk anywhere, are but loosely organized, al-<lb />lowing the author to work over a wide field. There<lb />is also a good deal of realistic clash of opinion<lb />among the participants, based upon what Castig-<lb />lione actually knew about their varied tempera-<lb />ments in real life, as well as other devices em-<lb />ployed to give variety to the composition.<lb /><lb />Still, it must be admitted that many readers<lb />are likely to find occasional dull spots, especially in<lb />300k III, which somewhat tediously concerns it-<lb />self with a perennially tedious subject"the na-<lb />ture of humor. Book IV, on the other hand, should<lb />be required reading for all students of the Renais-<lb />sance. First, it deals with good governance and<lb />the responsibility of the courtier to his prince with<lb />respect to it (See Kent in King Lear), and it<lb />closes upon a tremendous climactic passage in<lb />which Pietro Bembo, developing the philosophy<lb />of love and beauty from PlatoTs Symposium, raises<lb />his eyes above sensuality to the mystic harmony<lb />of union with God:<lb /><lb />If, then, the beauties which every day with<lb />these clouded eyes of ours we see in corrupt-<lb />ible bodies .. . seem to us so fair and full of<lb />grace that they often kindle in us a most<lb />ardent fire what happy marvel, what<lb />blessed awe, must we think is that which fills<lb />the souls that attain to the vision of divine<lb />beauty! What sweet flame, what delightful<lb />burning, must we think that to be which<lb />springs from the fountain of supreme and<lb />true beauty"which is the source of every<lb />other beauty, which never increases or dimin-<lb />ishes: always beautiful, and in itself most<lb />simple and equal in every part; like only to<lb />itself, and partaking of none other; but so<lb /><lb />29<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />beautiful that all other beautiful things are<lb />beautiful because they partake in its beauty.<lb /><lb />Here not only occurs a fusion of the idealism of<lb />the pagan spirit with Christianity, but also a<lb />transfiguration of the medieval doctrine of Courtly<lb />Love which will color literature for centuries. At<lb />the same time Castiglione helps transform the<lb />clanking knight into the trim gentleman (remem-<lb />ber OpheliaTs lament over Hamlet), not an en-<lb />tirely anachronistic figure even now, one hopes,<lb />though how he will fare in outer space is prob-<lb />lematical.<lb /><lb />Though there are three earlier translations of<lb />this important book in the Joyner Library, this is<lb />the most readable. And it is worth reading"just<lb />to see what Philip Sidney, Spenser, and Shakes-<lb />peare liked in a bestseller, if for no other reason.<lb />But there are other reasons in the realms of<lb />manners, morals and metaphysics.<lb /><lb />Dr. JAMES POINDEXTER<lb /><lb />Victory for Free Enterprise<lb /><lb />The Communist Challenge 'To American Business. Clar-<lb />ence B. Randall. Boston: Little Brown and Company.<lb />1959. $3.50<lb /><lb />Psychologists and religionists tell us that con-<lb />fession of oneTs wrongs is good for the soul. In<lb />that case, Mr. RandallTs conscience must be great-<lb />ly relieved. The first portion of this book relates<lb />RandallTs evaluation of conservatives and liberals.<lb />(After the reading of this book, I am convinced<lb />that anyone would call himself liberal.)<lb /><lb />Mr. Randall addresses himself to the problems<lb />of interest and participation by the businessman<lb />in the policy making of our government. Randall<lb />portrays his fellow associates as ~negative, when<lb />not openly hostile? to government. But when the<lb />businessman faces up to the great question (Com-<lb />munist challenge to ofree enterpriseT) which con-<lb />fronts this nation, he will want a part in determin-<lb />ing policy and ohave it carried out by those no<lb />less competent than himself.? But the business-<lb />man as of yet has not sought to meet the chal-<lb />lenge, and for this chides his associates. But he<lb />believes that when his associates accept the chal-<lb />lenge, they will solve the problem owinning a<lb />glorious victory? for free enterprise.<lb /><lb />A strong argument is put forward in support<lb />of free trade. He supports the concept emphatical-<lb />ly, but he fails to come to grip with the issues<lb />that make world trade such a perplexing problem.<lb /><lb />The discussion of the relationship of the men<lb /><lb />30<lb /><lb />of the Randall Commission was very entertain-<lb />ing, especially that of Randall calling time limit<lb />on Senator Millikin. When in Europe, Randall<lb />was astounded by a country owhere it was simply<lb />taken for granted that natural resources were the<lb />property of all the people.? I think this astonish-<lb />ment throws light on his use of the word oliberal.?<lb />In reality it should be oconservative.? Several<lb />references are made to centralization to meet the<lb />Communist challenge, but they are never ade-<lb />quately considered. In fact, there is doubt as to<lb />the meaning of centralization as used by Randall.<lb />The use of the phrase othe wisdom of the many?<lb />is another of RandallTs ways to slide easily over<lb />challenging problems.<lb /><lb />The government should build up countries in<lb />basic facilities (power and communication) so that<lb />American business may enter these ounderde-<lb />veloped? countries. But no mention is made of<lb />the responsibility of the profit making companies.<lb />Will it be similar responsibility as shown by the<lb />steel industry (Randall is former Chairman of<lb />the Board of Inland Steel Company)? For public<lb />aid to business, Randall is willing to repent for<lb />his stand on the social security issue.<lb /><lb />FRED RAGAN<lb /><lb />Nothing But Pleasure...<lb /><lb />The Great Byron Adventure. Doris Langley Moore. Phil-<lb />adelphia and New York: Lippincott. 1959.<lb /><lb />Doris Langley Moore has been a Byron devotee<lb />since the age of fourteen, and she contends that<lb />she is operhaps the only woman to whom nothing<lb />but pleasure has come from having loved that<lb />poet.? Her devotion to the man prompted her<lb />to collect over a span of many years material<lb />about Byron to be incorporated into a book.<lb />Rather than write a biography, Mrs. Moore de-<lb />cided in 1953 to write a study of the furor that<lb />arose following the poetTs death. However, the<lb />one obstacle that remained in her path was the<lb />inaccessibility of the coveted collection of Byronic<lb />material known as the Lovelace Papers. The<lb />Great Bryon Adventure is Mrs. MooreTs account<lb />(previously printed as four articles in the London<lb />Sunday Times) of her meeting Lady Wentworth,<lb />BryonTs great-granddaughter, who had the family<lb />archives in her possession.<lb /><lb />This interesting little booklet is the precursor<lb />of Mrs. MooreTs book, The Late Lord Byron,<lb />which will be published this year. In The Great<lb />Byron Adventure, she manages to whet the lit-<lb />erary appetite of her readers with brief glimpses<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />of the light she hopes to shed in her study on the<lb />controversial Byron marriage and the separation<lb />a year later that provoked considerable scandal.<lb />3yron lovers may look forward with anticipation<lb />to Mrs. MooreTs book.<lb /><lb />HuGH AGEE<lb /><lb />Realization of Mortality<lb /><lb />The Rack. A. E. Ellis. Boston: Little, Brown &amp; Company,<lb />1958. $4.50<lb /><lb />Some books are fun to read; others may be<lb />exciting, titillating, or disgusting. The experience<lb />of reading The Rack I can describe only as har-<lb />rowing. There are compensations, of course, as<lb />there are compensations in every lifeTs story. But<lb />if you want a merry tale of love and life and<lb />adventure and good cheer, this is not the book<lb />for you.<lb /><lb />The central figure is Paul Davenant, a Cam-<lb />bridge undergraduate who goes to a sanatorium<lb />in the French Alps because he has tuberculosis<lb />and wants to regain his health. He is with a<lb />group of other students who all are in various<lb />stages of the disease. None of them, he soon dis-<lb />covers, is as seriously ill as he is, and his life in<lb />the little Alpine village of Brisset, where the sana-<lb />torium is located, is a gradual unfolding of his<lb />realization that he has nothing left to face but<lb />death.<lb /><lb />The harrowing part of PaulTs story is in the<lb />development of his physical condition, and in the<lb />details of the various treatments to which he is<lb />subjected in a losing battle against the ravages of<lb />the bacteria which have lodged in his lungs. The<lb />nature of this treatment and his minutest reac-<lb />tions to it are described in gruesome yet fascinat-<lb />ing detail. As pure narrative"a narrative of<lb />disaster"the book has the touch of the master.<lb /><lb />If A. E. Ellis himself did not have T. B., he<lb />must have been intimately acquainted with some-<lb />body who did. And if he did not go through PaulTs<lb />experiences, he must have been pretty close to<lb />experiences like them. He makes no compromise<lb />with reality. You, as the reader, feel with Paul<lb />the very deepest depression and, in the rare times<lb />of hope, the highest exhilaration. You suffer with<lb />him, you go to the bathroom with him, you faint,<lb />vomit, almost die with him. And with him you are<lb />led up and down the tortuous paths of recurrent<lb />hope and fear, faith and disillusionment, cautious<lb />happiness and blank despair. You are spared<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />nothing. At the bookTs end, you feel as though<lb />you too have been stretched upon othe rack of<lb />this tough world,? and would, with Paul and<lb />ShakespeareTs King Lear, hate him who would<lb />ostretch you out longer.?<lb /><lb />The compensations in PaulTs life are sprinkled<lb />throughout his constant chronicle of sorrow like<lb />errant stars in a dark and sombre sky. His love<lb />affair with Michele is his only real help. From<lb />the first it has the quality of impossibility. Michele,<lb />another patient in the sanatorium, gets well and<lb />leaves, but only after she and Paul have fallen in<lb />love. The progress of their romance is tactfully<lb />and delicately told, but the degeneration of PaulTs<lb />physical condition breaks it off and destroys it.<lb />His debility, humiliating, demoralizing, life-con-<lb />suming, sweeps all before it in a bloody flood of<lb />purulent sputum. Other compensations include<lb />humorous episodes connected with everyday life<lb />at the sanatorium and deep but fleeting friend-<lb />ships with other patients. But all of his relation-<lb />ships with the world about him attenuate and<lb />ultimately disappear in his concentration on the<lb />single objective of staying alive.<lb /><lb />The nature and effects of his disease are par-<lb />ticularly destructive and tragic in bodies, like his,<lb />of young people. This is what he sees on a mid-<lb /><lb />day walk through the town: oBrave youth of<lb />Brisset, bravely attired. .. . Young girls in ski-<lb /><lb />clothes, eyes a little too bright, cheeks a little too<lb />flushed, figures a little too slim. Young men, firm,<lb />vigorous, golden-skinned, the pears or peaches ot<lb />a dishonest fruit vendor, resplendent without and<lb />rotten within.?<lb /><lb />Why should anybody want to read a book like<lb />this one? It is depressing, about a repulsive sub-<lb />ject, and offers no hope or inspiration of any<lb />kind. On the other hand, it is beautifully writ-<lb />ten, it contains some lovely descriptive passages,<lb />and has much to say about the inner workings of<lb />the human mind and spirit. I would not term it<lb />a great book, but"if you have what the English<lb />call the stomach"it is well worth reading. It<lb />certainly makes you glad to be alive and healthy,<lb />assuming of course, that you are healthy. It re-<lb />veals a segment of life which very few of us ever<lb />think about unless we have to be a part of it. It<lb />treats of sickness and death, two very unpopular<lb />subjects. Unpopular as they are, perhaps it is<lb />good for us to think about them occasionally. At<lb />least one of them, and probably both, are facts<lb />in our mortality which each of us, sooner or later,<lb />will have to face.<lb /><lb />Dr. EDGAR HIRSHBERG<lb /><lb />ol<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />Deviate<lb /><lb />The Empire City. Paul Goodman. New York: The Bobbs-<lb />Merrill Company, Inc. 1959. $6.95<lb /><lb />Another good, though unusual book has ap-<lb />peared on the literary scene. This book is different<lb />because of the extraordinary variety Paul Good-<lb />man has employed in telling his story. One finds<lb />in it myths, fairy stories, allegory, puns, satires,<lb />off-color jokes and some verse. Yet, in spite of<lb />the digressions from story-telling, the author<lb />seems to have accomplished his expressed objec-<lb />tive, oto make it possible to grow up as a human<lb />being into culture without losing nature.? He has<lb />done more; he has written a lengthy novel, but<lb />one which the occasional reader can pick up, turn<lb />to any page and the few lines there will provoke<lb />his interest in the story.<lb /><lb />The basic story is that of a male inhabitant of<lb />the city which, as the title suggests, is New York.<lb />For some reason, unknown to the reader, Good-<lb />man calls him Horatio Alger. The reader meets<lb />him as an eleven year old orphan brought up,<lb />however inadequately, by his brother and sister.<lb /><lb />The first few pages set the pattern for the book.<lb />Horatio, by placing himself at the right place at<lb />the right moment, manages to detach himself<lb />from society by stealing his records from the<lb />school on his first day of attendance, thus pre-<lb />venting the school and the rest of organized<lb />society from having records of his existence. He<lb />then educates himself through experiences and<lb />learns to read and write from the headlines in<lb />newspapers.<lb /><lb />From those first few moments with the hero,<lb />one begins to understand him. Yet one can never<lb />fully understand him because his life deviates<lb />so from the norm. One may get a glimpse of un-<lb />derstanding, and then some absurd occurrence<lb />is depicted by the author. For example, one may<lb />learn that HoratioTs nephews have become were-<lb />wolves; that the entire cast are practitioners of<lb />cannibalism; or that one of the characters is a<lb />space traveler.<lb /><lb />These absurdities prevent the book from stay-<lb />ing entirely on the level of even the fantastic<lb />reality of HoratioTs world. One is quite often<lb />reminded of CervantesT Don Quixote in the mod-<lb />ern rendition of several Quixotes.<lb /><lb />There is something else in this book. It is a<lb />history of our time. Beginning with the depres-<lb />sion the author recounts the adventures of Horatio<lb />and his comrades through four phases of history:<lb /><lb />32<lb /><lb />before the war, during the war, after the war,<lb />and modern times. Actually it is four books in<lb />one. Goodman explains that he has merely oadded<lb />to it... as the historical situation varied... .?<lb /><lb />C. W. WARICK<lb /><lb />THE ARRIVAL<lb /><lb />(Continued from page 21)<lb /><lb />He then realized how he had missed the old Negro<lb />man. His memory of how he used to sit on Uncle<lb />ThesT knee as a boy and listen to tales of faraway<lb />places flashed through his mind. And how Uncle<lb />Thes used to always make him and Little Jonah<lb />toys and take them with him to feed the mules<lb />and cows.<lb /><lb />Uncle ThesT eyes had gone bad, and he didnTt<lb />see Bob until he was almost to him.<lb /><lb />Bob ran to Uncle Thes and threw his arms<lb />around him.<lb /><lb />oUncle Thes,? was all he could say.<lb /><lb />oMr. Bob,? Uncle Thes said, oWell, dee Lord<lb />have mercy on my soul.?<lb /><lb />Bob now released him and backed off a step.<lb /><lb />oBoy, where is you been so long? Why I thought<lb />you'd done gone away and ole Uncle Thes wouldnTt<lb />never see you again.?<lb /><lb />oYou knew I would come to see you if I ever<lb />got the chance,? said Bob.<lb /><lb />oT shore is glad to see you, child. I reckon dee<lb />good Lord done took care of you. He done called<lb />Little Jonah home when he wuz in Ko-rea, but me<lb />Tn Mary Eller ainTt fussing, Tcause He de one who<lb />know de best. But I shore is glad to see one of my<lb />chillens home.?<lb /><lb />Bob couldnTt think of anything appropriate to<lb />say, so he remained silent and started walking<lb />with Uncle Thes toward the barn.<lb /><lb />~oYessuh, boy, you shore is growed up and fancy<lb />looking. "Member how you used to set on Uncle<lb />ThesT knee and how I told you how youTs gwine to<lb />be a big man one day when you was all growd up.<lb />You ainTt the same little boy now, but I wonTt<lb />never furget you and Little Jonah as younguns,<lb />not til de good Lord calls me.?<lb /><lb />The sun was setting behind the trees as they<lb />walked up the hill to the barn as they had done<lb />a lifetime before.<lb /><lb />THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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        <p>THE EXAM<lb /><lb />And the multitude<lb />moved numbly, dazedly away<lb />bewildered countenances, deficient attitudes;<lb /><lb />These dreamy moving statues float room to room<lb />as cold, forbidding, bespectaled orators,<lb />pronounce to each lost soul"his doom.<lb /><lb />LOUISA MAY HALL<lb /><lb />Tender, Juicy, Charcoal<lb />STEAKS<lb />BRING THE FAMILY<lb /><lb />Private Dining Room for Banquets<lb /><lb />Seating Capacity Up To 85<lb /><lb />DIAL PL 2-2185<lb /><lb />CINDERELLA<lb />RESTAURANT<lb /><lb />Hwy. 264 Greenville, N. C.<lb /><lb />Compliments of<lb /><lb />THE VARSITY<lb /><lb />CHARCOAL<lb />HAMBURGERS and STEAKS<lb /><lb />PIZZA PIES<lb /><lb />PLaza 2-9844 for Delivery<lb /><lb />WorsleyTs<lb /><lb />oHOME<lb />of<lb />FINE SHOES?<lb /><lb />116 East 5th Street<lb />Greenville, N. C.<lb /><lb />CHARGE ACCOUNTS INVITED<lb /><lb />FORMALS RENTED<lb /><lb />THE COLLEGE SHOP<lb /><lb />oCLOTHES TO SUIT THE COLLEGE TASTE?<lb /><lb />222 East Fifth Street<lb /><lb />TAFF OFFICE EQUIPMENT<lb />COMPANY<lb /><lb />REMINGTON STANDARD AND PORTABLE<lb />TYPEWRITERS<lb /><lb />COLLEGE SCHOOL SUPPLIES<lb /><lb />214 E. Fifth Street Greenville, N. C.<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960<lb /><lb />BE SMART!<lb /><lb />" SAVE AT "<lb /><lb />FIRST FEDERAL SAVINGS<lb />AND LOAN ASSOCIATION<lb /><lb />324 Evans Street Greenville, N. C.<lb /><lb />30<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />oForms In Suspension? (Etching) by ROSE MARIE GORNTO<lb /><lb />34 THE REBEL<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS AT COLLEGE. VIEW<lb /><lb />STATE BANK &amp; TRUST ape elarsas<lb />AND LAUNDRY, INC.<lb />COMPANY<lb />109 Grande Avenue<lb />At Five Point in Greenville MAIN PLANT<lb />Member Fifth Street and Colonial Heights<lb />Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation BRANCHES<lb /><lb />Guaranty Banr<lb /><lb />AND TRUST COMPANY<lb /><lb />ViStT-A1)3 (At. Gus WEW: COCA TION<lb /><lb />Member Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation<lb /><lb />VE BEEN RENTING MY FORMALS AT<lb /><lb />For Years!<lb /><lb />Whenever | need a full dress suit, tuxedo or summer formal,<lb />| can count on getting it freshly cleaned and expertly fitted<lb />from BELK-TYLERTS.<lb /><lb />WINTER, 1960 35<lb /><lb /></p>
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          <lb />Owen G. Dunn Co.<lb /><lb />oAnything For Any Office?<lb /><lb />PRINTERS, LITHOGRAPHERS,<lb /><lb />RULERS AND BLANK BOOK MAKERS<lb /><lb />Phone ME 7-3197 New Bern, N. C.<lb /><lb />36<lb /><lb />THE REBEL</p>
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