Bryn Mawr College Yearbook. Class of 1939




Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2011 with funding from
LYRASIS Members and Sloan Foundation

http://www.archive.org/details/orynmawrcollegey1939bryn

ReuleE 193 3 °9

YEARBOOK

OF

BRYN MAWR COLLEGE
DE D ft CG AT On


THE CLASS OF 1939 DEDICATES ITS “YEAR-

BOOK” TO MISS MARION EDWARDS PARK,
TO MR. FRANCIS J. STOKES, AND TO MR.
CHARLES J. RHOADS, WHO HAVE CON-
TRIBUTED MOST TO THE CHANGES ON THE
BRYN MAWR CAMPUS DURING THE LAST

'75563 FOUR YEARS.
Fee 0. oR 6 cB WO OR

This YEARBOOK is intended above all to be a tangible repre-
sentation of the students’ view of Bryn Mawr. Contrary to custom,
it is not designed primarily as a record of the achievements of the

senior class.

D

Rather, an attempt has been made to show our
recognition of the lasting value of the changes and developments
on the college campus.

The board wishes to thank all photographers, both amateur
and professional, who have contributed pictures. The literary
editors, being naturally lazy, saved themselves a good deal of labor
by collecting articles that seemed to fit their purpose, from numer-
ous sources around the campus. They rifled the “morgue” of the
College News, and found hitherto unpublished try-outs, write-ups
of many aspects of Bryn Mawr which were needed for this book.
They combed Freshman English files, and even sank so low as to
use scribblings from telephone pads and scraps from waste baskets.
This method of massing material partly accounts for the miscel-

laneous character of some of the writing.



Before

Our watchman-astronomer, Joe,

Has quite a long distance to go
At night through Bryn Mawr,
One eye on a star,

The other on girls down below.

After



GHOST WRITER FINDS
TAYLOR HAUNTED

Tracks Down Elusive Campus Spirit

Taylor, March 6th. The Taylor mystery was
solved when the ghost of Juno was discovered
pacing the halls last night. She was a pathetic
sight. Dust lay thick upon her insubstantial
body, giving shape to the otherwise formless
spirit, except where some over-zealous meddler
had brushed off her nose. We present the re-

sults of her interview, uncensored.

When asked to give a brief resume of her
life, she murmured inaudibly, “Life. Protoplas-
mic insignificance unconfined in mathematical

formulae.”

Q. “Pardon? Would you mind defining your
terms?”

A. “Never mind. I was just remembering
what life is today. It hasn’t always been like
this. I was a goddess once, an immortal. My
life was wild and free. I tread the wine dark
seas, or, like an eagle of the sun, scaled the
snowy peaks of Olympus, glancing through
space on the wings of the wind.”

(. “That must have given you an extraordi-
nary, if classical, background.”

A. “Youre young, my dear. More is needed
than classical knowledge nowadays. As an
undergraduate I failed the German Oral twice.
No matter. My hours are almost gone, and that
reminds me I must get back to the subject. Where
was 1? Oh, yes. My life falls naturally into
three periods, purely arbitrary distinctions of
course, for convenience.”

Q. “Yes, I know. You underwent a steady
development throughout.”

A. “Now my classical period was one of ex-

perimentation.”

Q. “How interesting! What were you ex-
perimenting with?”
A. “Forms.”

Q. “Literary, of course.”
A. “No. Metamorphosis. I started out as a goddess, tried
the woman, and ended up as a professor. Then I became a

statue, and here I am a spirit.”

Q. “Oh, I see. Experiments in zoological evolution, found-

7°

ed on the Pythagorean theory of metempsychosis.

A. “That brings me to the Bryn Mawr period.”

Q. “What did you teach?”

A. “They made me dean. Judging from the circum-
stances, it was self-evident that I was doomed to be a
misfit. For centuries I had been patroness of the domestic
lives of women. Now to be made arbiter of their minds

(frankly I never thought they had any)—well, to be brief,



I found myself incompetent.”

Q. “Yes, it does seem incompatible. What do you think

of the modern woman?’

A. “Oh my, dear Jupiter would never have approved of
this emancipation stuff. He always liked home bodies. In
memory of him I tried to establish a chair in Home
Economics. When the senate rejected the plan I became
merely a figure head.—less even,— atmosphere, —that’s
what they called us. I heard them say again and again,
“What would Taylor be without the busts. They add such
atmosphere. Rot! Cheap sentiment, but potent, for now
I really am atmosphere!”

She began to fade. In answer to a desperate “Come



back! Come back! Would you return for a professorship?”

she sighed, “Only if I could teach a marriage course.”
; 4 ; ANNE CAMPBELL TOLL
Her noble intellectual brow disappeared, and your re-

J INE
porter rushed off to see the dean. UNAS RUNRINISD

Mrs. Nahm and Prospective
Buyers.



9


Freshman English: Miss Stapleton
Comptroller’s Office

Bird’s Eye View.

10

1939 DECIDES TO
ASSERT STUDENT OPINION

Platform Splits Over Lettuce

Room E, March 9th. The class of 1939 met
today to discuss the question of a senior tree.
Just as the Denbigh and Pembroke factions were
agreeing on a Japanese Cherry, a half-starved
Pembrokite moved in bitter tones that the class
plant lettuce. Such a gift would save the col- .
lege so much that eventually it could afford to
replace the aforesaid article with something
more nourishing. Her tirade ended impres-
sively:

“Tam not quibbling. This pierces not only
to the roots of the undergraduate tummies, but
it also touches the sacred right of human beings
to command respect for their wants and opin-
ions.”

The class took over her cry and, led by the
invincible Denbigh, drew up a platform abolish-
ing everything from Conprehensives to Baccalau-
reate. When they had worked through the major
grievances back to lettuce, a dissenting voice
was heard again.

“Lettuce.” it said, “is to the undergraduate
as spinach is to Popeye. The accomplishments
at this meeting prove that. Denbigh obviously
ate its lettuce. for lunch whereas Pembroke
didn't. I beg you, abolish anything else, but
don’t abolish lettuce!”

Another timid dissenter took courage.
“Bravo!”, shouted Miss Grind. “Hurrah for
lettuce! Hurray for comprehensives! They're
spinach to the intellect!”




Miss Park



Manning

Mrs.

Hurst

Ir.

\

ades

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g

Your

yet

in

2



iA
PUBLIC

Dear Editor:

Any opinion we express about comprehensives
may soon possess the ironic flavor of an article
How-

ever, as in a game of musical chairs, we can

on the guillotine by Marie Antoinette.

safely predict that comprehensives won't get
There

remains, though, some question as to the partic-

all of us. There will be some winners.
ular type of loser. Will it be the girl who does
not know the courses in her major subject any
too well and so is at a loss when the time comes
Or, will it be the girl
who understands her major field but who hasn't

to synthesize them?
a very good “exam technique”? In other words,
will the losers be those people who really don’t
understand the game, or merely those who
haven’t learned how to hesitate in front of one

chair until the next one is free?

In the cold light of reason, anyone who
doesn’t play the game well, deserves to lose.
Only: thus
can we brag when we are fat and fifty, that

Only thus can winners be extolled.

every Bryn Mawr graduate can marshal the

The Last Day of Classes



OPINION

great bulk of material gleaned from three or
more courses, into three orderly comprehensive
examinations at any moment that the exams
are set.

Nobody thinks it unjust when girls who
haven't studied flunk. They have probably got-
ten something else out of life besides grades.
However, there might come a moment, after
the subsided,

when we would have a little queer feeling deep

excitement of graduation has
down inside about the girl who didn’t pass her
comprehensives. Maybe in the four years we
knew her, we realized that she had a much
keener mind than we had. She just didn’t have
the knack of exam-taking. Maybe she worried
too much about the genuinely appalling fact
that a whole college career hangs by the slim

Maybe

she elaborated too much on one question when

thread of nine hours of examination.

her professor wanted a well balanced paper.

We don’t bar race horses from the track be-
cause they are too high-strung to stand quietly
in the paddock waiting for the race to begin.
If they could they probably wouldn’t be able
to run very fast. We don’t shoot Seabiscuit

because he’d make a poor plough horse. Like-
wise, as often as not, the possessors of fine minds
don’t have a perfected exam technique. They

haven't needed it like some of us slower-witted
individuals. Thus, in the final comprehensive
handicap, we sure-footed mules may beat the

thoroughbred race horses.

The elimination of a girl with a high I. Q.
because of exam-shyness is a fault of the ex-
amination system itself and cannot be helped
until some better way of testing the ability of
students is found. We would, however, suggest
that the college palliate the blow of flunking
comprehensives for this particular type of girl
by allowing her to take part in all the formali-
ties of graduation with her class, although post-
poning the signing of her diploma until she has
passed conditioned exams reset at some later
date.

SENIOR.


BRAR Y

L

E

T
RESERVE ROOM AND STACKS

The demon that lives in the dumb waiter of

the reserve room of the Library has a narrow~

but not uninteresting existence. Through his
protecting grill he witnesses a wide variety of
The most interesting per-
are enacted in and

Every hour on the hour, although

farces and tragedies.
formances the afternoon
evening.
sometimes a little late, girls rush into this small
They drop piles of heavy books on the
table; they inspect the frantically.
Freshmen feverishly search for that essay in a
nameless collection, which must be read by to-

room.
shelves

morrow. Desperate looking economics students
resign themselves to the ever recurring fact that
all the Lutheringers are out and that the quiz
is next week. Bespectacled philos. majors. sit
crosslegeed on the floor and silently tear their
hair over Kant for an hour or more, oblivious
of those who step over them.

Sunday night breathless week-enders recount
their adventures to black and white clad choir
members, who, in turn, can give amusing anec-
dotes about the speaker or “the Willow.” Paper
writers keep up their morale by wearing odd
clothes and bringing toys to the Lib.

The demon may get a warped idea of the
college faculty as persons doing nothing but
giving impossible assignments, but as to the
students, even he cannot agree with the over-
worked attendant who thinks man-eating lions
are kinder. From his safer seat this reporter
thinks reserve room habitues are rather to be
pitied than censored. They are even to be con-
gratulated for still being able to laugh.

Unlike Stevens College, Bryn Mawr offers no

Miss Terrien

“personality” or “how to behave in public”
However, with much less effort, it is
As

a place for impromptu rendezvous, where social

courses.
able to achieve somewhat the same effect.

crises are always arising and where one’s wits
are brought into play, there is nothing like the
library stacks.

Dp

Here, professors, students, stray youths from
Haverford, and visiting dignitaries, are thrown
together on an equal plane. All have more or
less the same difficult objective, i. e., finding
It is
the suddenness of unexpected encounters that

Coming suddenly around a

books without the help of Miss Terrien.

tests one’s mettle.
corner and nearly knocking Miss Marti off a
ladder, or tripping over Mr. Sprague while he
is down on his hands and knees rescuing a
volume of Gascoigne which “hasn’t been taken
out of the library for thirty years,” involves a
snappy come-back to their natural exclamations
of surprise.

In addition, there is always the cut-up who
practices Tarzan antics on the iron bars, and the
practical joker who cleverly hides the reserve
room alarm clock in the stacks and nearly
scares to death the poor girl in charge of the
desk. Handling these juveniles affords
valuable opportunity in child training, over

loan

which several courses are spent at Vassar.

All Bryn Mawr students are exposed to this
treatment sooner or later. After a point, they
begin to take it in their stride, and, as their
social poise grows, they admit that it’s swell
fun. Adventures in the catacombs make mar-

velous dinner table conversation.

Reading Room



14
Mr. Sprague



DORIS WICK RAY

INHABITANTS

Mr. Herben



ELIZABETH COREY JULIA DAY WATKINS VIRGINIA PFEIL



15
ART SEM



* - ** ®- . ~ @e
oe Oe ks Ee ad .



ALYS VIRGINIA WELSH



KATHLEEN MURCHISON VINUP

FRANCES ELEANOR HEINS



FLORENCE BENNETT WIGGAN

16
BEAUTIFUL DONATION TO
GRACE NEW ART WING

Especially Contributed By A Benevolent But
Anonymous Father

Next to the water cooler there is a group of
books which the library has scen fit to disgorge
from its depths and to offer to the public for
fifteen cents a volume. Among these miscel-
laneous tomes are a few priceless pearls, works
moral, didactic, and literary, which can only
have been discarded through ignorant blindness
to the beautiful destiny of womanhood, for they
are concerned with Woman in her pure un-
tutored state. Beauty without and beauty within
was once the sacred possession of every woman;
it has only become an ideal in these days of
equality of the sexes and women’s colleges. Still,
it is not an ideal ever to be despaired of, and
in order to recapture it as a fact, | am donating
these books to the new art wing, with the provi-
sion that they be given a sacred room of their
own.

Inside, where all who enter must see it, will
be hung an illuminated copy of the chart to be
found in Sel/-Measurement, a volume in the Art
of Life Series. This invaluable little book en-
ables one to test her inner integrity, or dis-
integrity, by answering direct, searching ques-
tions such as “Do you get up in the morning
and hurl your shoes through a pane of glass?”,
or “Can you make two blades of grass
where one grew before?” When she has an-
swered these questions truthfully, she grades
herself plus or minus on the moral ladder,
represented by the chart. [or example, an af-
firmative answer to the first question would give
her minus three in her physical “relation to life”
and would place her on the deplorable level of
“murder.” An affirmative to the second ques-
tion would give her plus three and would place
her in the admirable class of the “Captains of
Industry.”

Their education will not be without the in-
spiration of the classics, diluted of course. For
this purpose Shakespeare’s Ideals of Woman-
hood by George William Gerwig is admirably
suited. Gerwig’s scholastic achievement in
recognizing the undying qualities of the great
master and simplifying them to fit our modern
idiom, finds no greater expression than in this
ringing passage.



In the readiness of her wit and the sunniness of her
charm, Shakespeare may almost be said to have dis-
covered the American girl three hundred years before
she discovered herself.

It is the privilege of each one of us to know Juliet

the poetic, Portia the capable, . . . Cordelia the honest,
Viola the tender, Ophelia and Desdemona the

sorrowful.

What greater proof of his discrimination and
tact than his thoughtful omission of Lady Mac-
beth?

Finally, since no education is complete with-
out provision for harmless enjoyment, the girls
will be allowed to read Chamber’s Repository of
Distinctive and Amusing Papers. the ennobling
virtues of which anthology are so pleasantly dis-
euised that the young ladies will be improved
even while relaxing. Let them read the story
of Grace Ayton.

The foulest fiend that ever brooded over men’s souls,
and hatched discontent and spleen from black imagin-
ings, must have turned himself to love if Grace had
excorcised him by her great gray eyes of guilelessness
and joy.

This is a tense moment when patient Grace
is waiting for her drunken husband:

Then the young wife began to tire of her work—
marvelous fine work was it: making up strange clothing,
problems of diminutive dimensions and infinite portions,
more like doll’s clothes than anything else, and yet not
doll’s clothes either.

I know of no more touching picture, no other
one which can stir in the depths of our hearts

the question
“Well, ‘was it’ indeed?”
IN THE LIBRARY

Mr. Herben’s office: A sign on the door saying,
“Engaged.” Later discovered to be euphem-
ism for “Reading magazines in periodical
room.”

The reading room: Freshman laboriously try-
ing to use Mr. Fenwick’s home-made short-
hand. She found the key to this cryptic sys-
tem rustling in the grass beneath Fenny’s
window. Think it will bring her luck to
translate her Pol. notes into Fenograms.

The periodical room: The Unfailing Four are

yD

holding another session. Librarians report
that the only way you can note the passage
of time is when one club member has to
leave to hold a class.

Mr. Anderson’s office: This is Swap morning.
Everybody works in somebody else’s office so
that he can get some real concentration con-
centrated. We've got to hand it to you. It
does baffle the students.

Mr. Chew’s office: One would think he taught
psychology instead of English, the way his
desk is back against the light so that he can
see every flinch of recalcitrant paper-writers
while he remains a dark outline of the perfect
gentleman and scholar.

The maid’s chair: From this vantage point there
seem to be two professors who never leave
their nest in the lib for longer than a little
leg-stretching in the hall ways. The maid con-



fesses she always thinks of them as the “Two
Settin’ Hens.” (Hint: One carries his books
in a sack, the other is a member of the Un-

Miss Taylor

failing Four.)
g

DORIS JESSIE HASTINGS
MARGARET HAILE COMMISKEY (Mrs. Howard C. Darnell) ; GRACE B. DOLOWITZ




CAROLINE pELANCEY COWL

AMANDA ELIZABETH GEHMAN

NEW FACULTY FACES

Youth, Pulchritude, and Variety Characterize New Professors

Mr. Bornemeier is that gentleman of unassum-
ing manner and curly hair who inspires under-
graduate interest in whether rats see color.

Miss deLaguna is not really a newcomer on
the campus. She has long been listed among
faculty children. However, this is her first year
of teaching here. She adds something new to
anthropology lectures with tales of her own
adventures among the Eskimos of Alaska.

Miss Northrup gives economic students first
hand information about the treasury department
in Washington where she has worked. She is
an authority on practically everything, raising
kittens included. She has few dislikes except
“loose thinking that is all form and no content.”

Miss Pease is chiefly noted for her sense of

EMILY DOAK

humor which once led her to show a slide of a
cartoon from Punch on a classical archeology
quiz.

Mr. Sloane was at first mistaken by his class
for a visiting Princeton freshman, but his words
proved him to be a man of wide experience,
well acquainted with art museums and taverns.
Both he and his wife, who is the nice but mys-
terious student listening in the back of the room,
have become campus favorites.

Mr. Steele of the flaming red hair, teaches
eiddy freshmen the rudiments of English com-
position. When not in his official capacity, he
is often found willing to instruct them in other
subjects, such as dancing and authentic Oxford

slang.

SUSANNE PRESTON WILSON



19
Ee ee

Psi



0

9
THE LIBRARY HALLS

or, Environment’s Victim

The other day when enraged by one of the
reserve room scrambles which always ensue be-
fore a quiz, we were suddenly seized with a
wanderlust, an imperative desire to get away
from it all and be utterly detached from our-
selves and everybody else. Thinking to achieve
a remote pinnacle of detachment from which
to survey the great campus mecca, we tried
roving up and down the library halls. Surely,
we neHected: one should be able to escape from
oneself in studying a place which may be
thought of as the center of an enormous net-
wore embracing the whole of man’s intellectual,
emotional and factual history,—well, not all
perhaps, as we nostalgically considered the
radio, the movies, and the latest copy of Life.
Heretofore when we had wanted to forget we
had taken a quick run to the “vill” to patronize
the drug store, and, disgraceful to say, found
it a very elevating experience. This method,
however, our conscience told us, was psycholog-
ically wrong: we should lose ourselves in some-
thing bigger than we are. rather than lose an
ice cream soda in something bigger than it.

Thus we embarked on what was for us a
totally new experiment in self-effacement. In
the first place it was impossible to be detached
in the library halls. Every time we tried we
were ensnared in an emotional or physical
tangle. For example, while seeking inspiration
by gazing at a professor’s door and trying to
absorb some of the cosmic brain waves which
must be issuing thence, it suddenly occurred to
us that we had met that door on another occa-
sion. Then we remembered issuing from it, not
like a cosmic brain wave, but like a disconcerted
child bearing a paper marked 60.

With an uncomfortable sense of defeat we
turned to an engraving of the Colosseum, trying
to feel some of its cold indifference in our heart.
Here we learned another lesson, namely, that
though one may erase himself effectively from
his own consciousness, it does not follow that
he can remove his physical presence from the
consciousness of ae rs. Unaware of this simple
law, we wandered down the corridor with a
stony heart and glassy stare, only to have a
resounding collision with an impressive person-
age. A horrible mixture of black frustration,
disillusionment, and the now-not-quite-so-im-

flooded our consciousness.
Our emotions as well as our body felt unbal-
anced: our mind seemed warped: and we had
lost perspective, or rather we had a very good
perspective of us, the library, and someone else,
looming large and blotting out the world.

pressive personage,

By now we felt rather like a cross between a
psychological problem, and a human interest
story. Our mind was working feverishly, an
event of which to take advantage, so we con-
tinued the train of thought. Gradually the whole
four years of library experience came into
focus. It seemed as though we had undergone
a constant process of embalming. The earliest
picture showed us blundering around the halls
like an insect in a burrow with movements
about as meaningless. We scuttled to the re-
serve room and got a book; we returned it and
got another, until suddenly a glimmer of in-
spiration hit us and we beat it down the burrow
to the water cooler. At least the idea that there
must have been some intellectual justification
for these actions was comforting, but we couldn't
remember that part of it now.

As the process of embalming continued we
acquired the library whisper and the library
shuffle. The next step was to become impervious
to every one else’s whispering and shuffling. In
time we were able to gaze curiously through the
open doors on a corridor and not be startled at
catching a pair of glaring eyes in return. We
even became so hardened that we could demand
an extension without trembling.

Painting such dramatic mental pictures, we
proceeded around the halls until we reached the
art sem, when habit reminded us that our pic-
torial reminiscences had no composition, no
flowing line, no plasticity. This blow to the ego
brought us back to earth with a bang. What
was the use of being an unencumbered intellect
if you could not do any better than this at the
end of your college career? At this moment
Taylor’s striking four suggested an antidote for
the embalming. Though we had almost suc-
ceeded not only in losing ourselves but in get-
ting lost, there was still an escape. With a
bound we extroverted ourselves out of the li-
brary, dashed to the Inn, drained a cup of tea
and once more felt strong enough to face our
intellect.


Miss MacBride Mr. Weiss and Mr. Anderson

SOCIAL SCIENCES

ELIZABETH AIKEN GORDON GROSVENOR JANE BRAUCHER



99
ray


Ground Breaking: May, 1938

April, 1939

MAY TO SEE LIBRARY WING STARTED

Art and Archeology Departments to Profit Most

(Contributed in “News” try-outs )

Last June the college saw the symbolic. gilded
spade break the ground where the long-wished-
for new library wing is to stand, completing the
square of the cloister according to the original
plan. Mr. Sidney Martin intends to harmonize
the architecture with the rest of the building.
After long consideration and hard work on the
part of the committee, the plans have at last
been approved. This spring they are expected
to be let for bid, so that this year’s graduating
class may see the actual work on the new wing
started.

One of the greatest inconveniences of the li-
brary has been lack of space. The art and
archeology departments, which have had to con-
fine the greater part of their activities to the
inadequate sem on the second floor, have been
the most cramped. Their pictures, now scat-
tered throughout various corridors. will reside
on the third floor of the new wing. Below, will
be a sem pre-eminently for graduate students,
and lecture and class rooms, designed for the
showing of slides. Monitors as well as students
will rejoice to hear this news. No more endless
shifting of seats in order to see the screen!

In the basement faculty and students can en-
joy cloak rooms as luxurious as those in the
new science building. The pride of the com-
mittee, however, is the stacks planned for
the first floor. Opposite the row of shelves,
windows will prevent duplication of the cata-
comb-like atmosphere of the central stacks. Un-
der each window will be a study chair and table
with a small shelf just above it. These are to
be built like Rhoads’ furniture, on extremely
simple and practical lines. In addition to the
art and archeology books, the new stacks may
contain some of the classics to relieve the crowd-

ing in the main library.

We foresee art majors going to conferences
and lectures, taking out books, studying, and thus
spending three-quarters of their time in the same
building, as many science majors do now. Work-
ing most of the time in one building may be
limiting, but we feel that the confinement is
more than outweighed by the advantages of sav-
ing time and eliminating unhealthful sprinting
in bad weather. After all there are always

week-ends for change of scene.
PUBLIC OPINION

Dear Editor:

IT am a freshman who wants to express herself. (1
know they want us to learn, so | am beginning now.)
I have had such a beautiful experience. In freshman
composition my beautiful experiences are always un-
grammatical, and I do think beauty should transcend
the adamantine fetters of sentence structure. | want
to reawaken a sympathetic chord in the hearts, or rather
minds, of all those who have received the light of true
learning and have forgotten how it feels or rather what
it means. Here at Bryn Mawr one is supposed to exalt
the intellect over the emotions, and on Lantern Night
my intellect simply burst into flame; it was positively
before and

mystical. I never knew I had an intellect

here it was, an inner truth revealed to me. I am sure
everyone who had a lantern presented to them must
have felt the same way, or else how could they ever
have faced required philosophy and fifty-page theses.
Besides that it was all so beautiful,—the clear blackness,
the cold stars and the bright stream of lanterns, and

For-

tunately it was so dark we couldn’t see how becoming

all of us young women in our caps and gowns.

they were or we might have been disturbed by vanity,
and we really are renouncing vanity for higher things.
Now I understand how the upperclassmen can go around
wearing those awful blue jeans. Then when I réceived
my lantern I felt symbolic; I was a “torch to consecrate
eternally,” kindled by that little candle flame, the light
of pure learning. In my inspiration I looked at the

library, the home-to-be of my mind, only to notice with

horror the ominous sign that its lights were out. I
could hardly trace its dim shape. And then we began
to sing and I forgot my fear. The Greek words were
so beautiful especially since | couldn’t understand them.
That increased their possible meaning infinitely. I

resolved to take Greek, even though I, a nit-wit at

languages, would never be able to know what it was
about. It would make my college career meaningful

and wonderful.

When it was all over I hurried back to the hall to
meditate over a cigarette and ended up by meditating
After I

my sensations, especially about the symbolic lamp of

aloud to the upperclassmen. had described
learning, they laughed and muttered something about its
turning into the midnight oil, or “the light that never
was on land or sea.” That seemed cruel, but then I
found myself pitying them. For the first time I knew
what cynicism was, and I realized the significance of
I told them that the lamp of true
learning had been extinguished in them, but they only

the dark library.

answered that it had been replaced by the light of
reason. I felt terribly sad and decided to write this
letter. One
of the most pessimistic and cynical of the upperclassmen
She said, after I had been
arguing with her for a while, that at least lantern night

Please remember that there is still hope.
touched an optimistic note.

served to make the (undergraduate) “darkness visible.”

Inspired Freshman.

Lantern Night




G 0 0
The curtain arose on a
wonder of shows, filled with Ger-
mans, Heil! Heil!”, men from the Onion
Isle, Ethiopes from afar, and girls from Bryn
Mawr. Dickie Reese said to Hitler, “II teach
you good diction. Learn this wonderful
thing of Sam Arthur
King. Fire drills no
more will disturb Goe-

ring s snore. “OF this,”
said der Fuehrer, “I'd no pre-
deliction, when I married the
girl.” Selassie, too, drew a pearl,
who established milk lunch for
the very black bunch. His
spouse said to Haile,
“Send your clothes to
Rock Laundry.” His
harem was very an-
3 noyed with Bar Cary.
Weld. eve! AN Moet All If Duce’s great horde
fought with pen not with
sword. ‘This peaceful aggression
put him in a quandry. “From Dr. a
Fenwick, you see, this has all come to me,”
said his wife of fine fiber, who had
just swum the Tiber. “We
must go to Geneva to
decide who to fight.”
“My girl went to Vas-
sar, no one Can surpass
her,” in the midst of some spats
with his numerous brats, sang the man of Isle Onion.
His wife answered “Quite.” In Britain was seen Lord Cholomondelay
and Pauline, at tea. “Oh, rather. It’s all such a bother.” “I've finished
with this. Let us go to the station. At Bryn Mawr, I was queer, and

Im wild over here. It’s something to be England's first lady.
Although you re all stolid, youre quite a good na-
tion.’ The conference was hectic: dictators
apoplectic. The girls ran the works.
The men’s faces wore smirks. The
husbands cried out, “We're just
lowly worms!” Onion man had no
knowledge. Wife attended wrong
college. No war could be fought till
he learned what was what. The wives
made the husbands come to peaceful terms.
The girls were on top. Thought of war had to
stop. The curtain came down. Sophomores wore
a frown. ‘The audience rose to their
feet with a leap! Yelled,
~ 30! ‘30! You are
fine! You are fine!”
They gave a great
hand, not as in

Wonderland,

where a tale
told like this
had put Alice

to sleep.



26


ern annen
renter ee

Behind the Scenes

Chorus from “Patience’



“The Devil Did Grin” “Night Must Fall”




ALICE JOHN MARGARET FAIRBANK BELL

“Flotsam and Jetsam” “Arms and the Man”
(Latin Play)


THEATRE WORKSHOP

The Theater Workshop at present consists of
an old barn, plans and newspaper clippings, all
but a modicum of the necessary funds, a great
deal of discussion, and more enthusiasm.

We explored the old barn once with an eye
to its architectural possibilities. The usual fur-
nishings confronted us, a rake, an exhausted
With

these materials well in mind, we closed our eyes

Tin Lizzie, lumber, hay, and cobwebs.

and, giving flight to our dramatic imagination,
All we
For

a while we considered this a sad reflection on

tried to construct a theatrical setting.

achieved was a very convincing old barn.

the building, but it turned out to be a sadder
reflection on us when, with surprise and admira-
tion, we saw actual drawings of the workshop.

If we could not be constructive in one way,
We

Katherine Hepburn’s benefit performance and

however, we could in another. went to
drank too many cocktails afterwards because it
was in a good cause. Later we tried performing
unbeneficially in amateur night: we didn’t even
mind when the gong and an unexpected hook

Often

we regretted not having more money to give,

removed us ungracefully from the stage.

MARGARET MacGREGOR OTIS

especially when working on scenery in Good-
hart, but we tried to compensate for this lack
We told

objectors that what this college needed was a

by enthusiastic argument. obstinate
Theater Workshop, not more books for the li-
brary, and we argued from conviction. We have
even seen some library books that we would have
sold to help pay for the project.

As the workshop has approached realization
the need for it has increased greatly. Progress
in the Player’s Club towards more and more
experimentation has shown Goodhart to be im-
practical and somewhat of a hindrance to in-
formal, spontaneous productions because it is
continually in demand for other uses, for which
scenery and rehearsals must make way. Yet the
flock of one act plays, presented during the last
few years in spite of these difficulties, are mani-
festations of a valuable and creative spirit. When
esiven a place to themselves, these activities will
no doubt increase greatly, offering opportunities

not only for acting and directing, but for scene

We

are only sorry that we will not be here to enjoy

designing and independent playwrighting.

these advantages.

MARY GORDON WOOD





DELIA PAGE MARSHALL

CORNELIA ROGERS KELLOGG

GLEE CLUB ACTIVITIES FORTIFY CAMPUS MORALE

Now that the Glee Club performance of The
Gondoliers is approaching and the campus ether
is ringing with its preparation, we present a
brief history of this venerable organization. We
skip over its origin and its healthy growth be-
cause that is prehistoric as far as the class of
1939 is concerned. They entered in the year
1935 when the Glee Club (to make way for
May Day), had temporarily abandoned the
spring production of a Gilbert and Sullivan
operetta in favor of Handel’s Messiah, presented
with Princeton in the Autumn. This was a big
jump in singing for most of the new members,
who found themselves breathless in the face
of non-stop running passages, or dizzy at the
prospect of hurdling a series of unaccustomed
Their hearts cast off the childish
sing-song beat of youth and took on some of

intervals.

the quirks in tempo, which belong to a mature
work of music. When the chorus was reminded
that they were no longer singing Gilbert and
Sullivan and were asked to produce a silver
tone instead of a muddy one, these new members
were silently thankful that they could produce
anything at all. In the end, however, they were
repaid for all their suffering by the excitement
of singing in the Princeton Chapel, backed by
men’s voices, and by the thrill of making even
Goodhart resound.

The next year Spring Fever was again mingled
with Gilbert and Sullivan fever. The college

found the latter an excellent excuse to indulge
in the former, as catchy strains from The Mikado
juggled the warm zephyrs and beat in our weary
brains, expelling both sleep and study. Instead
of translating her Latin, one girl found herself
adding Virgil, Bucolics and all, to Koko’s “little
list.” Another spent long hours thinking up
punishments to rhyme with the crimes of all her
professors.

Patience provided a convenient and tempting
code of behavior. A few girls told us that it
was very amusing to go around looking “both
angular and flat.” They confided modestly that
such an accomplishment came easily to Bryn
Mawr girls. One said that she was happier
than she had ever been before, now that she had
found an authorized excuse “to lie among the
daisies and discourse in novel phrases.” All|
admitted that they found a justification for liv-
ing (and not working) in such lines as “The
dust of an earthy today is the earth of a dusty
tomorrow.”

On the whole, the evidence proves that the
annual Glee Club performance does much each
year to raise the campus morale by fortifying
the wills of the girls against their consciences.
It remains to be seen whether the approaching
Gondoliers, reputedly the gayest of all the
operettas, will ennoble them still further by
adding a cheerful note to this atmosphere of
stoic resolution.
Christmas

Josef Hofmann

Service





LORNA B. POTTBERG

CHOIR

Being a member of the choir is not entirely
a paradise of Palestrina, half yearly pay checks,
and Mr. Willoughby’s jokes. We are compen-
sated for these pleasures by the usual crop of
petty annoyances, humorous in retrospect but
often monstrous in the present. Here are a few
of them, mostly impressionistic in character.

At a quarter of nine having to go and listen
to freshman statistics. One of the brightest in
the class turns out to be the one who half an
hour ago at breakfast had not the intelligence
to reach as far as under her nose for the syrup.
The really bright one who grabbed the last dish
of corn flakes is not mentioned.

New rules,—rigour mollified by flattery. Strict
fines for cutting, justified by a comparison of you
with the young ladies who used to sing for
Brahms.

Black stockings, very expensive. The dim
religious light of chapel shows up the holes.

Marching into Chapel. Trying to look spir-
itually at the rafters: as a result stumbling over
the unexpected conductor's platform. Getting
into the wrong row and having everybody swear
at you; or worse,—finding someone else in the
wrong row and swearing at them.

Singing “All the saints who from their labors
rest” in honour of the alumnae without a word
about the saints who from their labors do not
rest.
COLLEGE NEWS
CHANGES HANDS

Passing of Don Juan and M.
Meigs Mourned by Campus

NEXT YEAR’S BOARD MUST AIM
HIGH TO MAINTAIN
STANDARDS

Tuesday Night

33



MARY ROBERTS MEIGS




Lantern Board

DIMOCK

MARY

THE LANTERN

THE ART CLUB

ADELE CLEMENT

Merion Basement





34
INSPIRATION

The ominous chill of winter bit the October air, giving
it a cutting edge as it swirled around the trees in
Senior Row and eddied between a pair of swinging
brown legs. While the trees shivered stiffly, the legs,
impervious in their self-protecting warmth, continued
to pull against the stubborn hill, still responding to the
driving rhythmic cheers ringing in their owner’s ears.

“Anassa kata kalo kale . . . Babs!” The strides
stretched longer over the soft ground as Babs’ heart
beat to the magic words and her brain resounded joy-
fully with tune of “Thou gracious inspiration.” She
was feeling particularly well disposed toward her new
found alma mater because, in spite of academic failures,
it was very probable that she would become the guiding
star of the hockey team.

Meanwhile the wind, as if frantically trying to share
in her joy, was playing a rousing game of hockey with
the first fallen leaf, but Babs did not notice. Her un-
thinking sunniness was never clouded with any such
oversensitiveness to her environment. It showed in her
English themes. The glaring red “Rewrite” which she
had received this morning, however, was forgotten now
in the rising tide of her happiness. Her joy gave an-
other bound when she remembered her date for the
Haverford dance this evening.

As she entered the hall, her cool radiance freshened
the tense, smoky atmosphere, surging wave-like over the
study-worn faces, leaving them unresponsive except for
an imperceptible widening of the lips. Her cheery
“Hello” echoed through dead ears and sadly muffled,
escaped up the chimney. Undaunted, she dropped into
a chair, her legs tingling with the first hint of stiffness,
and picked up a copy of The Lantern. At first the
jumble of strange words meant nothing to her; they
slipped around the smooth edges of her unbattered
brain, not caught by any familiar association. Then
gradually their airy spirit penetrated the heavy gray
matter and sifted into her subconscious, filling this un-
trammelled area with strange new experiences. At one
moment her mind seemed to have expanded to embrace
an infinite, unextended emptiness, only to contract again
into a pin-point microcosm of swirling form and color.
Gnawing, biting words sprang from the blank page and
wormed into the new recesses of her self, leaving a
burning light in her eyes as they passed. The world
became an immensity enclosed between her mind and
her outermost senses. When, far away, the supper bell
tinkled, the sound seemed to be coming from some-
where down in her leg. It approached up her spinal
column until it reached the echoing cavity of her skull
where it clanged with rocking vibrations.





wa



Automatically she got up and was drawn into the
uncoordinated mé of pushing, hungry bodies. She
hated them all. Routine-bound mechanisms filling them-
selves, with a monotonous repetition of jerky motions;
she hated herself for feeling hungry, for having to
assimilate these body-forming lumps of colored nothing-
ness. Geometrically defined, they jostled each other
for room on her plate; they would jostle forever, even
when a part of her. She choked over a triangular
carrot, while spherical peas, moved by the impact, rolled
to the floor with squashy thumps. “Symbolic,” she
thought. “Form bound souls dragged to earth dimly
thudding while mind weaves spiritual cobwebs of eternal
destiny. Oh for a universe of abstract ideas!” she cried
inwardly as she felt the material world closing around
her. Terror seized her as she saw a tiny blue speck at
the other end of the table begin to approach; it came
nearer in a relentless wavy line as it passed from hand
to hand, growing larger and larger until it obstructed



(Sty

NH

her whole vision. “God, the gravy!”, she yelled, and

ran from the hall.

Picking up The Lantern, now her only solace, she
started for her room. Passing the show case she was
arrested by a cheery

“Hurry up! We're going places tonight.” Her for-
gotten date, Bernie, confronted her. His clear smile

and clean cut features, the neat certainty of his black
and white clothes irritated her.

She answered “Life——fuzzy paradox of negated posi-
tivity, every Yes swallowed in the indivisible No.” He
did not understand, and she, unable to remember the
formula of polite conversation, repeated “No!”

In her room she reread the poem which had first in-
spired her trying to visualize its author. Grace Eliot.
The name was simple offering no clue to the appearance
of its bearer. Tragic, elusive figures floated before her
eyes from shadow into half light and into darkness,—
sometimes gray and gauzy, transparent against the light,
—sometimes plastic and soft, silhouetted against the
light. Only the eyes were distinct, opalescent eyes where
brilliance sank into infinite depth and both faded into
blankness.



The visions disappeared, but now new meaning seemed
to peer from the shadows behind the desk, and to rustle
in the aim folds of the curtains. Yet it failed to come
into the light, to replace the old life now tottering
around her; she had glimpsed a new world which she



could not grasp, and she had lost the old. Silly, hockey-
playing Babs (the name echoed foolishly in her

vacuumatic soul); she could’ never think thoughts like
that or write like that; nor could she ever play hockey
or go to dances again. Besides, “horror of undirection
prisoned in wilful air,” she wasn’t even sure she could
hit the ball straight,—if at all. She kicked her neat
tunic into a heap of wan pleats on the floor while



elusive Meaning giggled from the shadows. Finally in
bed she went to sleep snoring:
“Suicide. Bright morning. Black wind. Suicide.”

In the morning, after a cup of shapeless coffee, she
was ready to face her destiny. She sat in the smoking
room saying a silent farewell to her attitudinizing com-
panions. One girl in particular made her destiny
seem happy.

“That’s life for you! All
kinds of things. No corn flakes at breakfast. Kicked
off the varsity yesterday. ‘Lavender’ says no more
extension on my paper. How can | play hockey if they
do that to me? And the crowning insult! Jack, the
little runt, asked me to marry him at the dance last
night with Bernie, the divine Bernie, looking on and
grinning the whole time. Was I mad!”, she yelled
back as she left the room. Babs watched her patched
blue jeans and red shirt receding down the hall.

“P-f-ooey,” said the girl.



“Who was that?” asked a freshman.

“Oh that. That’s Grace Eliot.”

Grace Eliot! Babs felt mad reaction trampling within
her. She rushed back to her room and tore up The
Lantern. Tears cooled her ironic “P-f-ooey!” as she
threw the scraps into the waste basket. It all seemed
vague and dream-like now except for a sense of horror
within her and her tunic lying on the floor, its wrinkles
stark in the sunlight. She hung it up carefully and
then wrote a note of apology to Bernie. Her heart
resounded

“Anassa kata kalo kale . . . Babs!”


MARY DIMOCK

THE LANTERN

THE ART CLUB

Merion Basement







fe omit
jy a cull
Senior Ron
Drown ls.
jnpemidls

io pull aa
driving. THY

*Anassd
srelcted
feat to the
filly with
yas feeling
found alma
j) was very
dar of the



Meanntil
in ler joy. |
the st fall
thinking. su
inersenslive
nolish then
had! received
in the rising
olher bound
averlord’

Lantern Board







Study Worn {
a Impercep
Hello” eck
escaped up I
‘chair, her
and picked
jumble of
‘lipped. arou
Main, nol cj
sradually th
muller ands
rammelled a
moment her
an inbnite,
inva pin-pa
mmavine, bit
wortaed into
buming Heh
Uetatne afi}
Het Oulermos
linked the
where: don
column unt
ihre it cl






















ADELE CLEMENT



Anlomati
Uncoordinat
bate the

thes nl h
it

Se hale
Anite th

1S, Geom
OT Lon

=i







34








INSPIRATION

The ominous chill of winter bit the October air, giving
it a cutting edge as it swirled around the trees in
Senior Row and eddied between a pair of swinging
brown legs. While the trees shivered stiffly, the legs,
impervious in their self-protecting warmth, continued
to pull against the stubborn hill, still responding to the
driving rhythmic cheers ringing in their owner's ears.

“Anassa kata kalo kale Babs!” The strides
stretched longer over the soft ground as Babs’ heart
beat to the magic words and her brain resounded joy-
fully with tune of “Thou gracious inspiration.” She
was feeling particularly well disposed toward her new
found alma mater because, in spite of academic failures,
it was very probable that she would become the guiding
star of the hockey team.

Meanwhile the wind, as if frantically trying to share
in her joy, was playing a rousing game of hockey with
the first fallen leaf, but Babs did not notice. Her un-
thinking sunniness was never clouded with any such
oversensitiveness to her environment. It showed in her
English themes. The glaring red “Rewrite” which she
had received this morning, however, was forgotten now
in the rising tide of her happiness. Her joy gave an-
other bound when she remembered her date for the
Haverford dance this evening.

As she entered the hall, her cool radiance freshened
the tense, smoky atmosphere, surging wave-like over the
study-worn faces, leaving them unresponsive except for
an imperceptible widening of the lips. Her cheery
“Hello” echoed through dead ears and sadly muffled.
escaped up the chimney. Undaunted, she dropped into
a chair, her legs tingling with the first hint of stiffness,
and picked up a copy of The Lantern. At first the
jumble of strange words meant nothing to her; they
slipped around the smooth edges of her unbattered
brain, not caught by any familiar association. Then
gradually their airy spirit penetrated the heavy gray
matter and sifted into her subconscious, filling this un-
trammelled area with strange new experiences. At one
moment her mind seemed to have expanded to embrace
an infinite, unextended emptiness, only to contract again
into a pin-point microcosm of swirling form and color.
Gnawing, biting words sprang from the blank page and
wormed into the new recesses of her self, leaving a
burning light in her eyes as they passed. The world
became an immensity enclosed between her mind and
her outermost senses. When, far away, the supper bell
tinkled, the sound seemed to be coming from some-
where down in her leg. It approached up her spinal
column until it reached the echoing cavity of her skull
where it clanged with rocking vibrations.



n

Automatically she got up and was drawn into the
uncoordinated mass of pushing, hungry bodies. She
hated them all. Routine-bound mechanisms filling them-
selves. with a monotonous repetition of jerky motions;
she hated herself for feeling hungry, for having to
assimilate these body-forming lumps of colored nothing-
ness. Geometrically defined, they jostled each other
for room on her plate; they would jostle forever, even
when a part of her. She choked over a triangular
carrot, while spherical peas, moved by the impact, rolled
to the floor with squashy thumps. “Symbolic,” she
thought. “Form bound souls dragged to earth dimly
thudding while mind weaves spiritual cobwebs of eternal
destiny. Oh for a universe of abstract ideas!” she cried
inwardly as she felt the material world closing around
her. Terror seized her as she saw a tiny blue speck at
the other end of the table begin to approach; it came
nearer in a relentless wavy line as it passed from hand
to hand, growing larger and larger until it obstructed

(Je)

her whole vision. “God, the gravy!”, she yelled, and
ran from the hall.

Picking up The Lantern, now her only solace, she
started for her room. Passing the show case she was
arrested by a cheery

“Hurry up! We're going places tonight.” Her for-
gotten date, Bernie, confronted her. His clear smile
and clean cut features, the neat certainty of his black
and white clothes irritated her.

She answered “Life—fuzzy paradox of negated posi-
tivity. every Yes swallowed in the indivisible No.” He
did not understand, and she, unable to remember the
formula of polite conversation, repeated “No!”

In her room she reread the poem which had first in-
spired her trying to visualize its author. Grace Eliot.
The name was simple offering no clue to the appearance
of its bearer. Tragic, elusive figures floated before her
eyes from shadow into half light and into darkness,—
sometimes gray and gauzy, transparent against the light,
—sometimes plastic and soft, silhouetted against the
light. Only the eyes were distinct, opalescent eyes where
brilliance sank into infinite depth and both faded into
blankness.

The visions disappeared, but now new meaning seemed
to peer from the shadows behind the desk, and to rustle
in the dim folds of the curtains. Yet it failed to come
into the light, to replace the old life now tottering
around her; she had glimpsed a new world which she
could not grasp, and she had lost the old. Silly, hockey-
playing Babs (the name echoed foolishly in her
vacuumatic soul); she could’ never think thoughts like
that or write like that; nor could she ever play hockey
or go to dances again. Besides, “horror of undirection
prisoned in wilful air,” she wasn’t even sure she could
hit the ball straight—if at all. She kicked her neat
tunic into a heap of wan pleats on the floor while
elusive Meaning giggled from the shadows. Finally in
bed she went to sleep snoring:

“Suicide. Bright morning. Black wind. Suicide.”

In the morning, after a cup of shapeless coffee, she
was ready to face her destiny. She sat in the smoking
room saying a silent farewell to her attitudinizing com-
panions. One girl in particular made her destiny
seem happy.

“P-f-ooey,” said the girl. “That’s life for you! All
kinds of things. No corn flakes at breakfast. Kicked
off the varsity yesterday. ‘Lavender’ says no more
extension on my paper. How can I play hockey if they
do that to me? And the crowning insult! Jack, the
little runt, asked me to marry him at the dance last
night with Bernie, the divine Bernie, looking on and
grinning the whole time. Was I mad!”, she yelled
back as she left the room. Babs watched her patched
blue jeans and red shirt receding down the hall.

“Who was that?” asked a freshman.
“Oh that. That’s Grace Eliot.”

Grace Eliot! Babs felt mad reaction trampling within
her. She rushed back to her room and tore up The
Lantern. Tears cooled her ironic “P-f-ooey!” as she
threw the scraps into the waste basket. It all seemed
vague and dream-like now except for a sense of horror
within her and her tunic lying on the floor, its wrinkles
stark in the sunlight. She hung it up carefully and
then wrote a note of apology to Bernie. Her heart
resounded

“Anassa kata kalo kale . . . Babs!”






CURRENT EVENTS

Gleaned from Tourists to Common Room

In troubled times it is fortunate that upon occasion
we can talk about untroubled things. An example ought
to be made of the Common Room. It is a place which,
like Switzerland, has witnessed stormy debates on many
problems from world events and industrial relations to
religion, science, and philosophy, and has still been able
to maintain its equilibrium.

Its ever changing population is not under the thumb
of dictators. The people value their rights to free think-
ing and free speech. Although the majority do not
agree with the points of view of Japan, of Hitler, or of
the Arabs in Palestine, they are more than willing to
listen to them. Even young Communists and Capitalists
are able to meet on friendly terms.

The Common Room’s most important people are Mr.
Fenwick, who knows what is going on in the world, and
George, the chef, who supplies excellent food for visiting
dignitaries and hungry students.

Besides having a social conscience, the inhabitants are
patrons of art and music. A special committee arranges
exhibitions of pictures, varying from Spanish children’s
drawings to the works of Italian Renaissance painters.
The choir assembles there nearly every Sunday night,
before going on tour to the Music Room and auditorium.

Unlike Switzerland, however, the Common Room is in
an unusually happy location that involves no immediate
danger from unfriendly totalitarian states: Resembling
its neighbors, the Library, Rockefeller, Rhoads, and the
President’s house, it is a liberal and cosmopolitan com-

munity.

do


GNASHINGS OF DESPAIR

D

If there’s anything we have learned to do at college, it’s
express ourselves.

Just as every one else has done for years and years, whose
efforts adorn the library shelves.

You may ask where we get such a pernicious and chronic
habit.

Well, we didn’t pull it out of a hat like a rabbit.

It was drilled into us way back yonder in Freshman Comp..

Where they taught us to get what was on our chest off it
in rich, beautiful prose, rather than by a good healthy
romp.

And when we didnt have anything we wanted to get off
our chests naturally,

They piled everything on us from T. S. Eliot to themes
on our relations and all the Arts Bach’lorally.

Ever since we have been trying to wiggle out from under
all this intellectual tonnage.

We tried everything from absorbing it to holding a sale
of spiritual rummage, but we couldn't get rid of it
for love or monage.

Anyway, ironically enough, all our attempts looked from
the outside rather like eccentric self-expressions

Of all our latent childhood repressions.

We seemed to be baring our individualities and soul secrets
all over the campus

To the dogs, to the squirrels and to the magazine salesmen
who vamp us.

In Taylor we got to be veritable whizzes

At dumping the contents of our brains into quizzes.

And when we got sick of absorbing the weighty words of
the professor and felt like letharging,

We kept ourselves awake by writing scathing notes in the
marging.

In the library our insistent whispering made some people’s
nerves go to pieces,

Especially those who were expressing themselves in some
kind of thesis.

In the gym we let off our athletic and creative steam in
the dance,

Whether modern, or ballroom in which case we enticed
the men by behaving like shy, shrinking plants.
While in the halls we relieved ourselves lounging around in

strange-looking pants.

But Goodhart was the only place, let the colleee rejoice,

Where we did nothing but express ourselves by making noice.

From aspiring musicians in the cellar to bats in the belfry

Every one indulged his embryonic ego in very audible
artistic pelfry.

One might think it was a second tower of Babel.

Only in comparison Babel was tame as a fable,

(J)
SI



MARY CHARLOTTE MOON



ELOISE CHADWICK-COLLINS

Practice



Because it probably didn’t have any acoustics,
whereas Goodhart has plenty,

So that when you are standing in the middle
you can hear the choir and the stage crew
and Dr. Fenwick and you wish there were
a lot more dolce far niente.

To be brief it sounds as if pandemonium were
loose.

Even the college paper could join the din and
claim to be the people’s voice if it didn’t
prefer to be modest like the Times instead
of screaming headlines like the Daily
Noose.

In the common room when tired of the opera
and the speakers and the art exhibit the
girls discuss at tea

With heightened tones the meaning of life in
a univussity

And of their own and human pervussity,

While in the pantry the forgotten kettle splut-

ters with rage.

But all this is mild compared with when they
get on the stage.

Then with dramatic burnings

And operatic yearnings

And every kind of vocal tendency

In the ascendency

They turn the rather but not too dignified
auditorium

Into a kind of bedlamic uproarium.

Until your only operatic yearning is to run
away in a fast but silent ride of the
Valkyria.

Instead of staying and having an undramatic
fit of noisy and nervous hysteria.

For if everybody expressed themselves, that’s just
what self-expression would be reduced to,

Because for everyone else it’s something over-
whelming and hard to get used to.

In mass doses

It will produce a variety of claustrophobial
psychosis.

So please let up on the self-expressions

And give us a few good healthy repressions.


A MERRY MISCELLANY

PRO HIGHER EDUCATION

(Note scribbled in
Lost):

an abandoned Paradise
Had Mother Eve e’er gone to college,
Oh, what would be the fruit of knowledge?

A THOUGHT FOR EVERY DAY

(Heard issuing from the black night near
Pembroke arch) :

“But the tragedy of it all is the immediacy
of the Now!”
And How!

JUST POETRY

What we demur most at’s
The deucéd thermostats;
And still the heat
Has got us beat.

BRAIN TWISTER FOR THE
BRAIN TWISTED*
Mary merited credit;
Her credit was merit.
Ellen had credit for her merit,
and had merit to her credit.

DEPARTMENT

Jane’s work was a credit to her merit,

Though her merit did not do her work credit.
Sally’s work merited to be credited with merit,
but her credit was less merit than credit.

Read the above carefully and then answer the
following questions:

1. Which girl was the brightest?

2. Which got what she deserved ?

3. Which got the highest mark at Bryn Mawr?

4. Which graduated in hopeless confusion and
was never again sure of her status in life?

Hint:

If credit for merit

Is all we inherit,

Then merit for credit

Is what?
A pip
Of a jip!

You've said it!

* Anyone who cannot solve this should not be allowed
either to graduate from Bryn Mawr or to teach there.



40



It seems that there were once two physicists,

one named Pat and the other named Mike. They
were walking into Dalton one day.

“Bedad,” says Pat.

chemistry and geology departments out of the

“Here we've gotten the

way, and what are we going to do about it?”

“Begorra,” answers Mike. “Sure and maybe
wed better be cleaning house.” So the first
thing he did was to trim his beard. Pat didn’t
wear a beard so naturally he didn’t trim it.

After that, they cleaned and cleaned, and in-
stalled soundproof rooms, and painted every-
thing nice quiet greens and greys, so that the
colors wouldn't swear too much with the gen-
eral red departmental tinge. Then, as a result
of the new color scheme, they took in a lot of
new, un- red- haired majors, a far cry from the
old days when one girl was ungallantly threat-
ened with leaving the department or dyeing her
hair.

Although it was in lights and optics that those

two physicists really produced great changes,

there were many minor improvements too. They
removed the historic equipment from the lecture

room, ripping out a forty-five-year-old hand

pump, showering much grease, dirt, and pro-
test. The monitor’s life was simplified by put-
ting the entire first year lab in one room, except,
of course, for the wandering experiments when
half the class vanishes to the fourth floor to

throw little balls at the autumn leaves.
They kept the

old switches that are such a boon for Pat to

But when it came to lights!

play with when he wanders up and down the

room lecturing. The windows in the second
year lab still support the building, giving great-
er ground to the theory that Dalton would col-
lapse if they were opened. Unpleasant com-
plaints have been heard that the new optics
laboratory, supposedly black and_ ventilated,
causes spots before the eyes and asphyxiation.
In spite of that minor’ problem, it is a new and
superior lab, flanked by two smaller ones and
hard by the famous Forty-second Street, the
brilliant row of lights leading to the janitor’s
cubby hole.

The source of Forty-second Street is the new
magnificence of switch and switchboard. As a
very minor physicist, we do not understand these
things, but from them, we judge that it isn’t
only Rhoads which has been giving the power-
house jitters this year. It was a bitter moment
for us when we learned that both A.C. and
D.C. were readily available in the physics labs,
complete with what sounded suspiciously like
The new switchboard gives

Added

power involves added responsibility however.

double sockets.

from 200 to 300 per cent more light.

The department, or at least the student mem-
bers of it, live in a state of frenzy trying to
remember to turn the lights off.

Even the new dark rooms off the first year
lab are not all convenience. Because of them
the lab is kept locked. As a faculty’ member
remarked, they form such nice comfortable
rooms for two when the showcases are crowded!

In conclusion, the walls are white; the creaks
are gone: and in the spring we envy Mike and
his little class of advanced students seeking
knowledge under the trees. Oh, to be a physicist

now that April’s here!




After

C

Pou Y. §$

The Shop

ee ee ee i ee i ee ie |
<




IRD HAMILTON

HELEN HU

Demonstrates

lichels

N

Mr.

DEWEY



Z

A

Instruction.

Lab

dvanced Optics

A

Minor Ph

eoaatisee

Utes Z
LEE



44
CAMERA CLUB REVELS
IN DARK ROOM

Hanging by the toes from the second window
to the right on the third floor of Taylor is a
trying occupation. Climbing silently under the
desks in the Lib. at eight-forty-five the night
before the minor history exam, is too. Join the
Camera Club, and see Bryn Mawr from every
angle. It demands neither pledges nor broad-

mindedness. All that is necessary is a camera

n

and intrepid hardihood. Even so, the female
instinct survives. When Haverford requested
the use of the dark room, several members ob-
jected on the ground that when in their develop-

ing clothes they did not like to bump into men.

Contrary to public opinion, professors are
not frequent visitors at Camera Club parties.
Mr. Willoughby, it seems, is a member, but so
far he has confined his activities to contributing
large brown bottles useful for hypo solution.

The main problem about the Camera Club
is the mystery surrounding it. Light adjustment
meters, and discussions of velvet or bromide
film, confuse the uninitiated. Also, the words
“Dark Room Party” suggest weird satanic fes-
tivities. Actually, the revelry seems to consist
in harmless grape-juice, food, and the develop-
ment of photographs of Mr. Watson and Mr.
Dryden, etc. The mystery, however, remains.
The Nucleus is good, successful, and incompre-
hensible.

DORIS GREY TURNER





Guess Who?

AESTHETIC JOYS DEPARTMENT

1. Mr. Michaels and Mr. Doyle, because you
can tell they were scientists just to look at
them.

2. Mrs. Patterson, because she’s mistaken for
a student, and that’s a compliment to our
youth and beauty.

3. Mrs. Wheeler, because she knows how to tell
the college what she wants—and get it!

4. The whole Physics Department, because they
look so happy coming back from lunch in
the Deanery that we begin to think our food
must have been better than it tasted.

Dark Room Party




Summer: 1938 2nd Year Lab

0 ft 0 Gh

CATHERINE DALLETT HEMPHILL “A bird in hand.”


DON JUAN

Juan threw down his musty old Mort d’Arthur.
“Alas,” he groaned, “methinks vicarious
Adventure is a pain. Id so much rather
Have life a soupcon more hilarious.

It really wouldn’t be an awful bother

To save a damsel from a beast nefarious.”

An unseen voice behind said, “Let me esk you.

Are you prepared to undertake a rescue?”

Juan arose with jump quite antelopic.

“Oh, to be sure! And who are you?”, said he.

“No matter. If you're feeling philanthropic,

There are some forty damsels to set free

From jealous guard of monsters microscopic.”

Up Juan leapt with joy and yelled, “Whoopee!

But where?” “You'll have to manage an assault
on

The Bi-lab. See it’s over there in Dalton.”

Protected by his mighty mental armour,

Juan felt quite invulnerable enough.

The faculty, however, feared lest harm or

Dis’llusionment break down his noble bluff.

“Old boy, we know that you are quite a
charmer,

But that makes you your own worst foe.” “Oh
stuff

And nonsense,” fumed our hero grabbing
tweezers

And mighty scalpel. “You will see, you geezers!”’



Minor Bi.

Miss

Gardiner




Forth went Juan in glorious array,

Like good St. George, the one who slew the
dragon. -

“A toast,” he cried, “the lobster and our fray!”

With gurgle cavernous he drained a flagon,

And, bowing to the people’s loud “Hurray!”

Stepped clankingly into the waiting wagon.

(Required to bear his martial par’ phernalia,

Though he rather hoped he wouldn't need it and

couldindulge in a scientific Bacchanalia. )

Miss Ufford and Friend



48

Time Out for Tea

Although in literary circles famous,

In matters scientific, we admit,

Our hero was a veteran ignoramus.

Of hydra’s heads he’d read with trembling fit.
He dreamed it huge and slithery and squamous,
“But twit.

Integer Vitae!”, mused our mental grampus,

With Octopus’s tentacles.

“Nought but spiritual dangers on this campus.”

He burst into the lab with thund’rous bellow.

“Hi, girls, ve come to save you from your
fate.”

“Shh!’, said a small voice at his side. “Oh
hello,”

Little Miss Muffert.

Bring on the monster!”

“Whew! Im in a state.

“What a jolly fellow!
But please be quiet. We're busy and it’s late.
What kind of monsters ?

“Ouch .

Species protozoic?”
. . What an earful!” Juan felt less stoic.

Get to work.”
killed the

“Come, here’s the lobster, Juan.

With one fell stroke he erim
crustacean.

“Please, something fierce! Where ‘does the
Hydra lurk?”

“Tt’s in the mike!” He looked in mad frustra-

tion.
Am I berserk?”

Recoiling with an imprecation

“Oh, horror minuscule!
Aghast.
Back from the Hydra, he slew the Paramoecium;
Swooned dead away and woke up in Elysium.

(Not to be continued.)


Interview with Mr. Fobes Math Library

MATHEMATICS



ANN CABELL WILLIAMS



Mrs. Wheeler’s Office

49
EXCERPTS FROM ACADEMIC EXILE

You never see how

Math is like childhood.
perfect it is until after it’s over. I shall never
forget the moment when the beauties of math

were revealed to me.

It was five oclock the morning before the
final exam in second year calculus. I'd learned
all seven pages of the fundamental theorem un-
til I was sure that it would be the first thing
I'd say if I came out from under ether. I set
the alarm for seven-thirty in the hopes that two
and a half hours of sleep would drive the blank
feeling from my mind, the tired taste from my

mouth and the fatigue-shivers from my back.

The room reeked with the smell of mothballs

from summer packing. As I lay on the bed
trying to fall asleep before the sun came in the
window, half-dozing, I suddenly realized what
Id been studying as math for two years—a beau-

tiful structure of figments built on such phrases

7

as “let something approach zero” and “we'll

°°

define this so that



I'd learned a great piece

of logic pulled out of thin air by definition and

wn

by letting things approach thing

Then I fell asleep strangely comforted and
dreamed Miss Lehr was dragging Mr. Hedlund
by the hair up and down the keys of a giant
piano while Mrs. Wheeler dusted her Chinese
antiques and murmured, “If it must be so, let

it be by definition.”

Moving Out



VAAN AAAS



50

|




THE NEW SCIENCE BUILDING


Going In

PUBLIC OPINION

March 10, 1939.

To the Editor of the College News:

Ever since my last visit to college I’ve been
having periodical nightmares. I seem to see
the Bryn Mawr campus turn to steel before my
very eyes and the students transfigured into
automatons jerking their way from class to
class. The cause of all these dreams is my
displeasure at the modernistic architecture of
the New Science Building.

I used to think that the Bryn Mawr campus
had a charming atmosphere. Now I come upon
a sore thumb of a building which looks more
like a high school constructed by the W.P.A.
than an extension of the fine old tradition of
the college. Is there anything taught in the
New Science Building which necessitates those
angular brick walls? Do special fumes go in
or come out those slit windows, which could
not as well enter or exit by the type of window
in Rhoads?

Of course, I’m not suggesting plastic surgery
for the New Science Building. The
dollar fund is spilt milk now. My only hope
is that no similar mistakes will be made in the
future.

million

For the present, I console myself with
the fact that the Science Building is down in a
hole where it won’t be noticed much.

Alumna.

oO

bo

March 20, 1939.
To the Editor of the College News:

In reply to “Alumna’s” letter of last week,
in which she bountifully expressed her dis-
pleasure at the modernistic architecture of the
New Science Building, may I say first that I
burn to encounter such a woman as she must

undoubtedly be. Failing this, I should like to

recommend through your paper that “Alumna”
watch her evening meals more carefully, just
in case her nightmares should be fomented by
dietary indiscretions.

I, for one, heartily approve of the architec-
ture of the New Science Building. Surely, it
must be a thrill to the students to work in a
place as up to date as the science which they
are learning. In addition, certainly “Alumna”
doesn’t delude herself into believing that all
the other structures on campus are in the style
of one period. I recommend that she compare
Taylor and the Library.
New Science Building is outward and visible

The modernity of the

proof that Bryn Mawr is progressing as the
years go by. The entire college, rather than
just one building, would be down in a hole
and very little noticed, if it wanted every im-

provement to be in the style of the old order.

Progressive Alum.

THREE GENERATIONS .. .

Talk about nowveaw riches! Better to talk
about them than listen to them gloat about the
comforts that the New Science Building has
brought to chemistry students. Remember the
cood old crowded days in Dalton, where the
sinks didnt drain and the air was heavy with
fumes? Those were the times when you could
flood the biology department (who flunked you
last year) by merely letting an excess of water
down the pre-clogged drains. Those were the
fine old days when you didn’t know whether
you'd really gotten a grey precipitate or whether
it was just the poorly lighted lab—where the
smell of the rabbit made you sway and grow
dizzy until you grabbed for a drink of what
ever happened to be in the nearest beaker and
bolted for the fire escape.

All this is changed now. The parvenues who
use the chem labs in the New Science Building
will doubtless degenerate to the jellyfish genus
after several generations. They have every-
thing—light, air, water—even room to breathe.
Nothing can be expected except a race of Softie

Scientists.



CHEMISTRY

One redeeming feature of the organic lab is
the provision of showers. Of course, the latter
are only supposed to be used by people being
eaten alive by acid or going up in flames. How-
ever, sometimes completely by accident, some-
times completely on purpose, a budding young
chemist finds herself bathed in the waters from
on high. These sudden drenchings are the only
ray of hope of forcing the adaptive abilities to
toughen the chemists of tomorrow. In time, the
paleontologists claim chem majors may develop
hard shells so that even sudden drenchings will
cease to disturb an experiment.

The ventilating system will certainly give the
nostrils of chem students a new lease on life.
They brag that when they stage four-alarm ex-
plosions, the new hoods suck up the flames so
fast that not even an eyelash is singed. It’s
perfectly grand for everyone except the neigh-
bors, who get all the smells which are piped out
of the building. Rents in the Low Buildings
district are said to be lower with no indication
of firming.

If you want to know what’s really dreamy,
its the drying ovens and the instantaneous steam
LABORATORY

baths.
problems beside that of lunch.

And the new iceboxes help with other
The white tile-
topped desks in the analytical lab are as good
as a white table-cloth at the Bellevue any day.
However, the smoothest gadgets are the left-
handed desks in the lecture rooms. Now, being
left-handed is sort of distinguished, like a white
streak in black hair.

Also the New Science Building contains a
whole score of possibilities. The ping pong
table and the smoking room (as well as the roof
and the dark room which doesn’t let in even a
chink of light!) should provide avenues for

The flu-

orescent rock exhibit smacks of a World’s Fair,

getting to know the faculty better.

and soothes those who long for the bright lights.

Does the college realize the secondary effects
which the New Science Building may have?
Primarily, of course, it will sissy-fy our scien-
tists, or at least the half who don’t use hand-me-
down Dalton.
of our truly beautiful equipment leaks out, Smith

Our

type of student will change until we have few

Secondarily, when once the news
and Vassar may feel the repercussions.

Taylor-made graduates and many would-be

or

Or



Madame Curies. It will be very easy to get
into Bryn Mawr if on your application blank
is a pledge to major in history, politics, or
languages. The German oral will cease to be a
sifter with so many scientists in the college. The
faculty offices in the library will be quiet sanc-
tuaries where professors work untroubled by
conferences with students. Cobwebs will cover
the desks in the reading room. The new wing
will only be disturbed by the chatter of squirrels

on the sill outside the dusty windows.

Those

same chem majors who revel in the lap of left-

However, this will not be the end!

handed desks will be weakened by their snap

Let them gloat now, for tomorrow

existence. g

they die out. Such a little shock as an unex-
pected shower will be fatal. Then Miss Terrien
can get out her feather duster and prepare for
students as the Library had them in the old
days. Veronica will have to shut down her three
storerooms for chemistry apparatus, for there

How

fitting that the New Science Building should

will hardly be business enough for one.

furnish a proof of Darwinism!


DENISE ANDREE DEBRY CATHERINE C. EIDE

CHEMISTRY




>

“Veronica.

Above:
Left:

Se

ience Library.

Miss Lanman

ght:

Ri


ELEANOR BENDITT

RUTH STODDARD

DOROTHEA REINWALD HEYL



ALIEN

Once upon a time, a poor English major, in search of
peace, quiet, and a change of scene, found herself in the
library of the New Science Building. As far as studying
went, she was doomed from the start. Only a mind steeled
to scientific concentration could work in such a leisurely
spot. Although the books are dull tomes dealing with
Geologic Aspects of Physical Chemistry, or vice versa, and
the magazines are not as enlivening as the Punch and Life
of the Periodical Room in the Lib, the atmosphere is un-
believably giddy. The polished aluminum of the indirect
lights, the terra-cotta of the couch, and the huge Venetian

blinded windows, are wholly unscientific.

Once past the dedicatory plaques, the English major
headed for the couch. She had just settled down with her
books and had opened to Canto IV of the Faerie Queene,
when her pencil clattered to the floor. As she stooped to
pick it up, the couch separated like ancient Gaul, into three
parts. Schooled by Chaucer to withstand all shocks, she
overlooked this, and continued to pursue the pencil toward
the fireplace, where it had become mixed up with the fire
curtain. This proved to be a complex mesh with a steel
cord that may be pulled to open it. The English major
intelligently untangled the pencil, and decided to try study-
ing at one of the tables. The indirect lighting was so bril-
liant that her eyes, used to the dull green and brown of the
Lib, were nearly blinded. The room, moreover, was op-
pressively hot. She pulled ropes dangling from the Venetian
blinds until she discovered that this had no effect on the
windows. She saw several interesting handles, and by play-

ing with them produced startling results.

All the panes of the window flew open at once. She
pushed the knobs frantically, and the window closed again,
leaving only one pane open, through which swept a com-

fortable draft.

The couch looked inviting, the light was pleasant, and the
Faerie Queene was slow going. The English major curled
up on the third section of the sofa, and dreamed splendid
dreams of a knight clad in steel-mesh armor, who was
equipped with test-tubes and a Bunsen burner, and who

rode on a coal black Venetian blind.

58


Mr. Cope and Mr. Crenshaw




Mr. Watson and Rocks on Display

GEOLOGY

Reflections on Paleontology


GEOLOGY FIELD TRIP REPORT
November, 1938

1. Pembroke Arch. No notable rock forma-
tions were visible, but there was a conglomerate
croup of beslacked and bewildered students,
equipped with hammers, compasses, maps, note-
books, pencils, mittens, extra sweaters, and food,
all out of equilibrium. Goaded by jeers about

from Mr. Watson, they piled

Dn

female slownes
into the bus, a rare species formerly thought
to be extinct except as a fossil in junk yards.
Mr. and Mrs. Dryden followed in the car with
Tonto.

2. Three miles up side of hill near Consho-
hocken. Students
out, heavily laden with paraphernalia, and stag-

Bus collapsed. clambered
gered up the hill after the receding Watson legs.
The summit, when finally achieved, afforded
an excellent view of Conshohocken steel mills
although a mist obscured the consequent or sub-
sequent Schuylkill. A large green snake wig-
gled around the hardier members of the party,
the rest fleeing.

3. Quarry, two miles west of the S in Spring-
field.

daunted by jeering C.C.C. workers, and tenta-

Students, being gneiss girls, were un-

tively used their hammers only to procure speci-
mens of grey rock to be thrown out immediately
on return to college. The next half hour, de-
voted to riding, brought forth examples of poetic
and vocal talent. Roads rang with “Minnie the

Moocher,” “Bell Bottom

sorted parodies to popular songs,

be

>

Trousers,” and as-
largely derog-
atory to geology.

4. Location unknown. Wholly new sensation
of taking notes with mittens was experienced.
When this proved impossible, writing bare-
handed and then warming the fingers with
lighted cigarettes was tried, but was equally
unsuccessful. Tonto showed himself the noblest
geologist of us all by unearthing a particularly
rare fossil. There are three theories to account
for his prowess:

a. that, belonging to the Drydens he is natural-
ly conformable to their interests;

b. that it was a kind of accident (catastroph-
ism theory) ;

ce. that he uncovered the fossil while nosing
for a rabbit, this being a form of mechanical

erosion.

61



Co-ed

Meanwhile, the general effect of thirty stu-
dents sitting in the road cracking rocks was
magnificent. It supported the theory that work-
ers in chain gangs are really primitive geologists
(see G. S. Ashpoof: “Die Geologische Bedeu-
tung der Kettemenge” in “Die Zeitungspruenge
des Geologischenwissens,” Band 279, 1939, pp.

216-238).

5. Pembroke Arch.
embarked. Miraculously, all reported that they
still had

secondarily enriched by the acquisition of fos-

Weathered students dis-

had their hammers. Some been
sils and minerals to form a brecchia, an incon-
eruous mixture of substances brought together
by mechanical forces. In the opinion of the
majority, the process was painless, although in
other instances it may be accompanied by more
destructive forces such as poison ivy, sedimenta-
tion—i. e., falling down in the mud, and even
faulting from cliffs, accompanied by horst and

eraben.




FACULTY NOTES

How are we to know them now, the faculty whose cubby-holes we used
io visit so gloomily after every mid-semester ?

Mr. Cope, whose office increased in inaccessibility proportionally to
the decrease in our chemical ability, now breezes cheerfully to the main
floor of the New Science Building, where he performs mighty researches
both by day and night.

Miss Lanman still has to rescue the first year students from astounding
smoke screens, but she covers wider areas than the lab and measurement
rooms of Dalton’s third floor.

Moving to the new building has confused our attitude toward Mr.
Crenshaw most. Although his office is always full of conferring dig-
nitaries, we can’t help remembering him as Mrs. Manning’s Latin lover in
the faculty skit last fall.

Mr. Watson has achieved his heart’s desire, a room through whose door
every student cannot gaze to watch him at work. It must be said, though,
that at times he still leaves the door open while he strides about in his
blue smock.

The change in climate brought out Miss Wyckoff’s latent artistic talent.
Let it be whispered: she paints green dinosaurs with lovely orange spots.

The Drydens are still the same, but Tonto, the spaniel, grew incredibly
over the summer. He gets most of his exercise chasing a shoe down to ihe
first year chemistry lab, into which he slides with much clatter of toenails.


CHRISTIE DULANEY SOLTER

MARGARET HUYLER

ANNE ERWIN FERGUSON





Plane Table Surveying


SCIENCE CLUB

The Science Club has made its appearance in
various forms at different times during the his-
tory of the college.
Last
year, however, this phoenix rose very rapidly

only non-existent but almost forgotten.

to an extremely energetic life, and is now one
of the most popular extra-curricular activities
on the campus.

This miraculous achievement is due largely to
the energy of the students who re-organized the
elub, and to the unusually enthusiastic coopera-
tion on the part of the science faculty and the
Miss Gardiner was the first contribu-
tor to the infant cause. After a social and rather

members.

unscientific dinner in the Deanery, she gave a
lecture on heredity.

Since then the Science Club has met about
six or seven times a year, eating and being soci-
able in Denbigh, and then going to Goodhart
auditorium

for a lecture.

Last year the club was very proud to have as

or Common Room

speaker the eminent physicist Mr. Karl Darrow.
Unfortunately, the audience grew more and
To most of his
listeners, first year physics students, Mr. Dar-
row seemed to be talking some strange un-

more puzzled as time went on.

English tongue containing no words of less than
six syllables. When the lecture was over, Mr.
Michels and Mr. Patterson found themselves
besieged by eager students filled with intel-
lectual curiosity, who wanted to know what had
been said. Explanations had to be simplified
more and more until finally even the most ig-
norant questioners went away having discov-

Two years ago it was not

Pienic

ered that electricity and magnetism are closely
related.

This year the Science Club decided to make
a less erudite appeal, at least for their first
lecture. As a result, Mr. Alexander Gettler,
professor of toxicology at New York University,
spoke on the enticing subject of Chemistry in
the Detection of Crime.
story addicts, and the morbidly curious, all
remembered the date and justified the use of
the Goodhart auditorium.

Scientists, detective

The sound chemistry
and the blood chilling horror of bodies wrapped
in “boint boilap,” and “poisoned poisons” satis-
fied everyone.

Mr. Michels’ lecture, announced next by the
This
title occasioned some jokes about the infantile
In spite of their outward
scorn, the scoffers must have considered the

Science Club, was called Spinning Tops.
pursuits of science.

subject too abstruse for them, as the audience
consisted almost entirely of scientists who were
properly appreciative.

The climax of the Science Club year is the
That day, test tubes,
rocks, and rabbits are forgotten in favor of
bicycling, country air, baseball, and food. Scien-
tists on bicycles and in cars set out for the open

annual spring picnic.

spaces. Handsome geologists, athletic chemists,
all

Salad festooned
Mr. Cope’s car, and dying left-overs unscientifi-

red-haired physicists, and busy biologists,

worked together in harmony.

cally preserved provided between meal snacks
for several days afterwards.



64


GYMNASIUM

THE
WRITTEN BY A BLACK SHEEP

A long time ago there used to be a flag on

Merion green when conditions were bad for
tennis. Then we used to sign our names for

an hour’s walk and return to the smoking room
for an hour’s bridge. Sometimes the weather
was inescapably good. Then we feebly prac-
ticed until Miss Brady, red-haired and forceful,
informed us that the backboard was the place
for our kind. At that we would trek slowly up
to the green below Radnor and hit balls over
and around the backboard, behind which there
was a lovely jungle—final resting place for all
our best shots.

Today only the yellow flag remains. Two
years ago, most of us passed our last gym
requirements, leaving the rest to struggle pathet-
ically through semester after semester of folk-
dancing. Last year the construction of the New
Science Building put an end to the old back-
board. This year we have Miss Yaeger in place
of Miss Brady.

Perhaps because the gym instructors are the
only ones who leave us the individuality of our
first names, enthusiasm for them always runs
high. The attitude toward Miss Yaeger is no
exception. Students like her looks, her voice
and her adaptability. They rave about her Red
Cross life-saving course. There is even hope
that the inter-class swimming meets may develop
into real contests now that a cup is being offered
to the best non-varsity swimmer.

For those of us who were not born athletes,
the sport of sports has always been folk-dancing.

Who can forget the ungodly hours when we

HELEN MEDLAR BRIDGMAN



66

used to do Celinger’s Round for Big May Day?
There was the early rehearsal, cool but hard on
the disposition; the noon-day rehearsal, when
we always expected heat prostration; and the
late afternoon one, followed by popsicles and
Eskimo-pies.

Folk-dancing in the gym differs from these
only in the wooden floor underfoot. Even in
mid-winter we get appallingly hot trying vainly
to be as lightfooted as Miss Grant. However,
judging from the redness of our friends’ faces
after a game of hockey, it seems that emulating
her in that is ten times more exhausting.

In the quieter line, Miss Petts’ dancers, with
their little floating garments and yards of elastic,
We marvel at the death defying
Finally, the

nicest sport of all is sitting on the running

entrance us.
leaps of the Doris Humphreyites.

track, where no one has ever been known to
have had the courage to run, and watching Mr.
Ware instruct the ballroom dancers.

Once, inspired by the spring or by too much
studying, we ventured down to the gym for
ping-pong. Flanked by a mournful array of
bathing suits, the ping-pong table was deserted,
while ex-players searched under the lockers and
around the showers for the ball.

Thwarted by this crowning blow, we, the un-
athletic, decided to give up all form of exer-
cise. To the joy of the majority, in the future
there may be a new and magnificent gymnasium,
but there will probably be invented six or eight
new indoor sports. A bitter thought to us who

know no better.

Vassar Baseball Team: 1938


BLESSED EVENT

Sufficient knowledge of dancing to distinguish between
Bill Robinson and the Ballet Russe used to be the humble
aim of the undergraduates. Now the field has widened to
include real interest in the dance groups on campus. Not
only have the established Duncan classes increased steadily
in the last four years, but there is also a newcomer, the

Modern Dance.

The latter has met with steady success. After a few
weeks of laughter at the contortions and resulting aches
of its devotees, the college began to be interested. Instead
of its early status as an alien meeting at odd and discarded
hours, the Modern Dance is now given for credit, is self-
supporting, and has an hour and place all its own. With-
out doubt there is something fascinating about controlled
but strenuous rhythmic movement. In addition modern
dancing is creative, a counterbalance to the assimilative
work of studying. Let those who hide the smoking room
chairs, who put salt and pepper in the pillows, and who
bring cow bells to class, take heed. It is from such spur-
of-the-moment ideas that modern dancing is derived, though
worked up and thought out to a high degree. It has taken
the underlying originality of the jokes for its own, to give
serious entertainment and enjoyment. The modern dancers
have gone a long way towards pure art since the days
when they had to haul themselves up the bannisters by the

arms because they could no longer bend their legs.



LUCILE JARMAN SAUDER



CONSTANCE RENNINGER


Miss Yeager Faculty Team

MARY CAROLINE WHITMER



Swimming Meet



68


C AM P U S
JEAN LIDA MORRILL COLLEGE CALENDAR

Octaber 1935.—Sophomores and Freshman Parade Night.

Lower hockey field.



February 1936.—Freshman Show, 1936 and All That.
Saturday. Goodhart auditorium.

May 1936.—Last day of classes. Freshman Night. Tug-
of-War. In front of Taylor.

June 1937.—Garden Party for Seniors. Sophomores as
aides. Wyndham garden.

October 1937-June 1939.—Walking up and down senior
stairs by 1939. Taylor.

March 1938.—Inaugurations of officers for 1938-39. Class
President, Anne C. Toll. President of Undergraduate Asso-
ciation, Eleanor K. Taft. President of Self-Government
Association, Jean Morrill. President of Athletic Associa-
tion, Anne Janet Clark. President of Bryn Mawr League,
Martha Van Hoesen.

May 1938.—Step singing. Introduction of “Ann Boleyn”
by 1939. Taylor. Junior Picnic. Wyndham porch and
garden. Taking over of Senior Steps by Class of 1939.
Taylor.

May 1, 1939.—Little May Day. Singing on Rock tower.
Hoop rolling. Senior Row. Goodhart auditorium.

June 4-7, 1939.—Baccalaureate. Goodhart auditorium.

Bonfire. Lower hockey field. Garden Party. Wyndham
ELEANOR KELLOGG TAFT garden. GRADUATION?



ANNE JANET CLARK MARTHA CORRIN Van HOESEN



70
MAY DAY

To the May pole let us on

Blue and gold uniforms beating up the walk,
Blowing men, breathless men puff into holes.
Fingers jabbing stops, sound wrenching souls,
Hurled from funnels of burning brass,

Shiver the grass.

May tunes drummed into marching time;
Musical doggerel hits the rhyme,

Drum dum, Dum dum, Boom doom, Zing.

The time is swift and will be gone

Big girls, little lassies, Trip hop trip,

Skip step skipping, Skip step skip,

Lightly press the grass or thump mud oozing,
Wish that they were snoozing.

Grace of an elephant hopping like a gnat,
Squush pop, Squush pop: what are they at?
Heffalumpine flea swings on a streamer

Weave in, Weave out, Tangle, Chatter chatter,
All for alma mater

Sacrificial rites. Sacrifice a pole!

Red, blue, green streamers pull, pull tighter,
Choke pole. Splutter, as hearts grow lighter.

Skip hop trip step. Strangle. Chatter chatter!

There your beauties may be seen

On the battered green is tragic incongruity.
There they indulge academic superfluity.
Crashing old Band:

Drum dum Dum dum Boom doom Zing!
Dancing hand in hand;

Skip step Trip hop Thump Squish Sing!
May pole’s in a tangle,

Pull, pull.

Choke, splutter. Grunt—Stranele!

EULOGY ON THE BAND

To equal it the Philharmonic

Needs to take a vitamin tonic,

Next to it our godlike Stoky

Seem just a little bit slow pokey.

Even Jack Benny, Bernie Goodman

Are merely swinging, puppet wood men,
Only its dogmatic Beat

Can make us really use our feet.



Bonfire

SONG WRITTEN BY A SENIOR

Oh, I didn’t see what the point of it was,

When they stuck words in my mouth and told
me to hide them.

I didn’t care if the Sophomores found out—

I rather liked than despised them.

But now I see what the point of it was,

And it worked like a charm as they planned;

For I didn’t write home how lonely I felt,

But how loud and peculiar the band.
Wanderlust



CAROLLING

As I am reserving all my sentimentality about
Bryn Mawr for my feelings as an alumna, I want
to record the matter-of-fact side of some of our
customs while it is still apparent.

To be matter-of-fact about carolling is to
notice that the alto next to you has not mem-
orized the words and that the one on the other
side does not know the part and to admit that
you know neither. Also, that from what you
can hear, the sopranos at the head of the line
are three measures ahead of the altos at the
rear, so that poor old Wenceslas is muttering
three different things in the same breath.

You hope that it sounds right to the audience,
but you are not sure, so you think about some-
thing else—the Christmas spirit of giving (and
getting), perhaps. Here you are giving the joy
and fulness of your heart to your faculty hosts
(and you are receiving joy and fulness in your
stomach). This seems like a happy union of
the spiritual and material worlds until it occurs
to you that you are thanking your host by sing-
ing in a cake and cocoa-ish, not a spiritual voice.

Oh well, “Tis the season to be jolly, fala,
le.”

Little May Day





Summer School

JUDITH WEISS HAS FALSE
IMPRESSION OF US

Sidewalk by Dolgelly, February 27:—

“The girls eat too much,” declared Miss
Judith Evelyn Weiss, pretty three-year-old
daughter of Bryn Mawr professor, Dr. Paul
Weiss, in a press interview today.

“I always see them coming to the Inn,” she

added.

When questioned further, Miss Weiss admitted
that she, too, would like to go to the Inn. She
practices roller-skating almost daily in front of
Dolgelly, and it makes her want to eat when
so many girls go past her on the way to food.
Miss Judith Evelyn (she scolds you vociferously
if you call her plain “Judith”) admitted that
the reason for her thinking that they eat too

College Inn

Julia and Ann MacKinnon and
Margaret Broughton

much might be because she rarely sees Bryn
Mawr girls going anywhere but the Inn.

“They are too big anyway, she remarked
scornfully.

Your correspondent, being always eager for
all the news that’s fit to print, asked her for
a statement about her father.

She declared, “Daddy smokes a pipe,” and
could probably have been induced to testify
further had not young Alan Broughton, son of
Bryn Mawr professor, Dr. Robert Broughton,
at that moment come out on the porch to play.

Regarding him as a perfect stranger, although
she has known him nearly all her life, Miss
Weiss yelled with glee, ““There’s that little boy!
Look at him!” Young Broughton in his turn
gurgled sounds of happiness. All interest in
your correspondent and the press was lost.

Infirmary




Interest in Life

EXCERPTS FROM SEMI-EXILE

(Editor's note: We have just received the fol-
lowing letter from one of our graduate-student
friends telling us about her habitat.)

Dear Kidlets of the Undergraduate Body:

Radnor is the graduate hall, but being on
the other side of the gym is like the distinction
of the tracks—almost. Graduates are animals
who are either still around Bryn Mawr for no
reason, or who come to Bryn Mawr for relatively
the same purpose. They delve into books—for
the most part, because this is Bryn Mawr.

Graduates think they are better than under-
eraduates: first, because most of them don't
wear pants on the campus; second, because they
sometimes react to a primordial self-conscious-
ness (it has been rumored this happens only
to those who see themselves in a mirror and
can remember having seen themselves in a mir-
ror when their mothers or brothers or someone
was there) ; third, because they have been aware
of something called future or job or home; and
fourth, because they can be self-governing, so
they spend their spare time looking for an
excuse to accomplish that fact (which is why
they have so many committees).

No one has ever been able to discover what
graduates like. Radnor exhibited as individual
has been able to determine what it doesn’t like,

but not as a whole, except in so far as each

76

member participates in the phobia of plague
Radnor. don't like

nearly everything. Meals are things to be has-

Members as _ individuals

tened from demonstrably. Coffee is always at
its worst. Breakfast is always the difficult after-
math of staying up the night before. Everyone
likes to make a noise—vocal or instrumental,
but no one likes anyone else’s noise.

There are good things about graduates. Fre-
quently they say nothing in class, so they say
nothing wrong. They eat a great deal, which
helps along the business of the country, and
more specifically, of the Greeks. They are
young this year and not bad looking on the
whole, which in part makes up for their being
eraduates. Some wear ankle socks with high-
heeled shoes and others talk about the well-
dressed students of their own alma maters. In
fact, for each, her own alma mater holds no

They

would gladly fix Bryn Mawr up if only Bryn

illusions: beyond doubt it was excellent.

Mawr didn’t think itself capable of doing its
own good job.
Graduates Kidlets,

even though they can't contribute anything ex-

do have ideas of fun,
cept a form of anarchy which is noisy with
opinion, as far as Radnor is concerned. The
other side of the gym isn’t so bad, you know.
Mollie.
Radnor, March 22.
Eo a8

4

Es

© bat IPO




DOROTHEA RADLEY PECK

AS WE WOULD
TELL THE FRESHMEN

Merion is the oldest dormitory in Bryn Mawr,
which is not hard to guess since there are no
closets, and since the floors are so splintery
that you can’t sit down on them. Also it is ill
planned. You usually have to walk a block
*twixt bedroom and bath. You can even tell
what lunch is from the kitchen smells that waft
up the register. Some Merionites say they can
differentiate between the smell of rancid grease
burned and of burned grease rancid, when they

live on the fourth floor and have a cold in the

head.

This leads us to the thought of Rhoads. Would

college perhaps be more palatable where odors
can't even float up the stairs without sneaking

Such

modernity as Rhoads is well purchased with

through a swinging door? Beware!

regulation. There is a clock above the signing-
out book. Thus, there is none of this gambling
on the clemency of a warden’s wrist watch.
There are fines for enjoying the streamlined
showcase without guests. At least, in Merion,
the decrepit old green furniture always extends

open, if uncomfortable, arms to its own.

8

Of course there is more to a hall than its
smells and its furniture. In Merion, for in-
stance, there is that air of artistic temperament.
Over such a little thing as too many boiled
potatoes, a few inhabitants fake hysterics, and,
as a result, others have them. Merionites seem
to have a faculty for upsetting themselves like

fifty-seven brooding Hamlets.

If Merion hits the low spots it hits the high
ones too. Hall dances are getting to be as
frequent as inspections for double sockets. The
thumb tacks for the decorations aren’t taken
out of the ceiling any more. No longer does
Merion envy Denbigh for her young men who
stroll up the sidewalk. She has some of her

own to appraise from dormer windows.

There are some strong theoretical advantages
to living in Merion. For instance, if her in-
habitants aren’t hop-skipping around madly in
a hot itchy costume on the green, they can
calmly watch Big May Day from their own bed-
room windows. There are practical advantages
too. If it’s raining, Merionites can run over
to Taylor, without first going upstairs to get a
coat, and only smell mildly like damp tweed
during class. If they wash their hair, they can
run like Bush-women for the gym and the dryers
without being seen enough to increase Bryn

The Paoli

Local, our passport to the magic realm of the

Mawr’s reputation of unkemptness.

world outside, is a little farther from Merion
than from Rock. However, this advantage is
more than made up for by getting a good twenty-
five cents worth out of a taxi on the way back
from a joyous but tiring week-end. You have to
be pretty far gone to justify paying to ride

from the station to Rock.

Merion is like an old charwoman, untroubled
by social aspirations or by an excess of hall
or class spirit. She does her work without
any illusions of grandeur, and on her nights off,
she does as she pleases, while more ordinary

people whisper, “What a drole character!”


Chinese Checkers MAY SHAN-FENG CHOW



New Luxury JIMMIE BROUGHTON

Spring Fever ISABEL KURTZ




MARIE CRESPIL KEITH INGEBORG JES



Bridge

New Smoking Room


DENBIGH FAVORS FOOD AND FACULTY

Pocket Guide to the Intricacies of the Hall

Denbigh Hall is that graceful, pseudo-gothic
building parallel to Taylor and the Lib, and
directly under the eye of the Dean’s Office. It
is the original of the photograph in the Fresh-
man Handbook, labelled “One of the halls of
residence.” The
the uninitiated. Even the language is peculiarly

interior, however, confuses
local. Bewildered visitors are told to look for
their friends in the “Quiet,” in the “Chicken
Coop,” in the “Rabbit Hutch,” or in the “Grad
Wine.”

prefer to escort strangers personally to these

If pinned down, Denbighites usually

places rather than to attempt verbal directions.

Life in Denbigh follows fairly consistently
The most
important change effecting the hall in recent

the trends of the campus as a whole.

times has been the installation of the German

The

sound of two languages shouted simultaneously,

House in the lower floor of the wing.

an overflow of gemuetlichkeitt and German mu-
sic, and of course the ubiquitous Bimbo, have
now become an integral part of Denbigh at-
mosphere.

With a happy disregard for quiet hours and
for their uncomplimentary reputation in certain
other halls, those who live in Denbigh study,
complain about the food, sing on the steps, play
cards, and go to the Lib. They write “walk”
instead of “foot” in the signing-out book. They
have a very special weakness for Miss Marti,

the Diezes, the MacKinnons, the Andersons,
the science departments, Mr. Sprague, and a few
other favored professors.

Many Denbigh customs seem to be connected
Each spring the

The

memorial bench facing Dalton is sat upon for

with eating and with faculty.
hall gives a giant outdoor tea. stone
the only time in the year, but is then often
honored with the most exalted authorities on
campus.

Last year, Friday night faculty dinners were
introduced. They were very popular and con-
tinue to be so this year. Two or three faculty
members are invited to meals in the hall and
talk informally with the students about every
subject except work. Denbighites only com-
plain that there are too few Friday nights.

The idiosyncrasies of the faculty, along with
music, Bermuda, Noel Coward, and other cul-
tured subjects, form the conversation around
the coffee pot after dinner. The Freshmen
dutifully get coffee for the upperclassmen, who
drink it with the dignity appropriate to the
However, deprived of the elevat-
ing influence of Hawksie who usually takes her

surroundings.

leave around seven-thirty, a process of degenera-

tion sets in. After apologetic students have
to interrupt sessions of gymnastic or ballet

exercises in order to study in the quiet smoking

room.






EUGENIA BOWEN COBURN LAURA ESTABROOK MYRTLE DANICO NICCOLLS

Miss Jones and Mr. Steele Intermission



Mail! Smoking Room

oa)


Miss Hawks and Mr. Nahm DOROTHY FRANCIS DICKSON







ETHEL SHEPHERD DANA

BRYN MAWR COLLEGE

GERMAN LANGUAGE EXAM
Spring 1939
I. StcHt TRANSLATION

Das deutsche Haus ist eine ganz einmalige
Geographisch
nimmt es den Fluegel von Denbigh ein, den
Graduate Wing. Es wird von acht Senioren,
drei Junioren, Familie Frank, und Peggy
bewohnt, und von Fraulein Doktor Hilde Cohn
von Low Buildings die uns zum Abendbrot die

Angelegenheit auf dem Campus.

Ehre gibt. Es wird Deutsch gesprochen—immer
bei Tisch, meistens im Wohnzimmer, oft aber

Es

rangiert von solchen mit einem starken Neu

nicht so regelmaessig im Badezimmer.

England Accent zu dem reinem klassischen
Deutsch unserer Philologin.



BARBARA BIGELOW



AGNES WILLIAMS SPENCER

Im ersten Jahr war.das intellektuelle Niveau
betraechtlich tiefer. Dirndlkleider, ein bisschen
Kommunismus, Kino im Seville, und ein wenig
zu viel “Jaeger aus Kurpfalz” waren auf der
Tages Ordnung. Aber dieses Jahr, dank dem
Familienzuwachs der uns drei Soziologie Majors
brachte, und mit ihnen Norristown, koennen
wir ohne Sorgen ueber die tiefsten Probleme
sprechen. Die beliebtesten Themen sind jetzt
immer noch Kommunismus, aber dazu ist das
britische Weltreich und Die Gefahr des Fas-
zismus in USA gekommen. (Oder mit der
erossen Van Hoesen zu sprechen, “Something
is Bund to happen.” )

Aber der eigentliche Centralpunkt ist Familie
Das
Haus zeichnet sich nicht nur dadurch aus, dass
es fuenfzig Prozent der Kommunisten auf dem
Campus beherbergt, sondern auch das einzige

Frank die auch zur Soziologie tendiert.

maennliche weisse Wesen das je auf dem Cam-
pus gelebt hat, den beruehmten Bim, der zusam-

men mit seinen Freunden und Freundinnen den
Campus mit Rollschuhen Schneeballen
unsicher macht.

und

Die gegenwaertigen Bewohner des Deutschen
Hauses glauben “das gibts nur einmal, das
kommt nicht wieder”’—so eine Sammlung von
Interessen an Philologie, Weltfrieden, Kuehen,

Und

sicher, wenn wir auch gehen, wird dank den

Glee Club, sozialen Fragen, und Medizin.

geliebten Diezens, Frau Frank, und Hilde, das
Deutsche Haus ebenso weiter bluehen und gedei-

hen; wir werden es nie vergessen.


EA ST

PEM GB RO K CE


MARY TYRRELL RITCHIE

EAST IS EAST...

At nine-fifty-five in the evening, the inhabi-
tants of East are arranged in a pattern like
their room locations. The corridors are com-
paratively silent. However at ten-five a great
hand has turned the kaleidoscope. The inmates
have fallen into another pattern, not in parallel
rows lining the halls, but neat bunches of threes
and fours. In the smoking room, four seniors
In the library, three

To one walk-

claim the bridge table.
sophomores discuss philosophy.
ing down the corridor, the sonorous melodies of
Tchaikovski’s Fifth Symphony mingle with bath-
When

straightened out, the sounds reveal a flute, a

tub howls, and beyond, violin music.

fiddle, and Bach, a freshman and a senior to-
gether wooing the muse. Here a_ typewriter
labors for the News; there one works for the
English department. Some sophomores, home-
sick for the West, croon “Home on the Range.”
replete with guitar accompaniment and ten gal-
lon hats. A peep through the door of a fresh-
man room reveals several artists crouched on
Char-
itable juniors clean up the pantry where sand-
wiches had been made, and on the third floor.

the

the floor over their posters and paints.

“garret,” the hearty Germanophiles rally
round.

East has as many activities as it has partici-
pants, but it has no character as a whole. There
are those who love music (during a trip from
dining room to the backstairs one would not
miss a note of the RCA Victor program), and
those who practice ntusic (three violins, a flute,
and several accordions), and those who manage
teams and clubs finances, and those who are
Kast inhabitants
seldom take one stand for or against anything.

skilled in drawing and acting.

At hall meetings flourish important arguments
which are never resolved. The trouble is that
every one can see both sides. However, if once
East learns what Denbigh has decided, then the
solution is simple; opposition of course. Other-
wise a deadlock.

All these things contribute toward making
Pembroke East the home of rugged individual-
ism.

“1940, Song!”




LOUISE HERRON ANNE WIGHT FRANCIS TAPLIN BOURNE

Jimmy and Tyrrell

In the Library


SARA BLAIR HUNTINGTON BALLARD





Aftermath of Swimming

1939—ORAL SONG

Music: Sir Arthur Sullivan

There’ll be a time—

When we will say, “At last—hurrah, hurray!
Oral exams are

Are now things of the past—callooh, callay!
One pill, one gulp, one sigh,

And by and by—
German and French vill be

Grasped easily, intuitively,

And painlessly!

“Theyre buried, buried, and the grave’s closed
2
o'er
Torture that was and never will be more!
Theyre buried, buried by a chemist smart,

Who found the way to ally science with art!”

Oral Singing




WEST

PEMBROKE


NANCY COOPER WOOD

... AND WEST IS WEST

In attempting to analyze and describe a group
of young women dwelling together in that
peculiar social unit, the dormitory, I am at a loss
how to proceed. The Travelog method would
be confined to their exterior aspects and would
consequently be unfair since they spend their
whole time at college nurturing their interiors,
both abdominal and cerebral.

On the other hand I might reveal their collec-
tive stream of consciousness, which, to extend
the metaphor, would somewhat resemble the
spring floods of the Mississippi at this time of
year, and would be about as devoid of intel-
ligible order without the subtle sifting of trivial
While withered lettuce
leaves swirled angrily on the surface along with

from weighty matter.

cigarette stubs and movie cards, and, while the
torrent roared a chorus from the Gondoliers,
more important considerations such as Plato and
mid-semesters would have sunk out of sight. In
addition I cannot over-emphasize the danger of
tampering with floods. I heard once of a college
girl who was dragged to her grave in her own
stream of consciousness because she had _at-
tached herself too firmly to a German diction-

ary.

I also considered the psycho-analytic method,
but stopped, hesitating at the frichtful com-
plexes and associations that would have to be

g9

revealed. For example, every girl on the second
floor has experienced complete and utter frustra-
tion when with dripping, soapy hands she has
reached for a paper towel and has discovered
that they were upside down in the container.
The girls’ reactions were interesting but tragic.
Only one retained presence of mind enough to
risked

future frustration from disapproving authorities

turn the towels right side up. Some
by drying their hands on the shower curtains.
A few bruised their hands by beating them
pathetically against the unyielding walls of
The

paralyzed in every respect but the vocal one.

the container. least resourceful were

All of the subjects were permanently affected,
with the exception of the first. They lost con-
fidence in the paper towels and, what is more
important, in their ability to manage a mecha-

nized world.

I thought of investigating their characteristics
as a social group, but the contradictions I en-
countered were discouraging. I found the tea
pantry rife with a kind of capitalistic commun-
ism, exhibiting itself in the unrestrained public
use of pans, tea cups, spoons, and other private
property. Strangest of all was the eventual re-
turn of each one of these items into someone
else’s private property. Such a phenomenon
could only be attributed to supressed domestic
The book shop reeked of capitalism,

whereas the smoking room was admittedly an-

instincts.
archistic. Only the halls themselves retained

any features of democracy.

Privately, and this is an accepted secret, some
of the inhabitants have noticed touches of fas-
cism in the management of the dining room,
especially at lunch, when they feel that they
are being deprived of enough milk by some sort

of arbitrary power.

Finally from the historical point of view, I
might mention that I discovered that there is

Condi-

tions both geographical and racial are such as

practically no historical point of view.

to prevent any complication of the sort. In
the first place up “til last year the color of the
main arteries of the domain was a shade of
anemic rose, enough to stifle all martial and
political aspirations. Now they remain a com-
fortable undemanding yellow.


Relaxation. MARGARET ELIZABETH HARVEY



Hall Store. On Time.

SARAH TYLER MEIGS




HELEN W. GRIFFETH

In desperation I resort to personal observa-
tion as an unmethodical means of presenting
what is left of Pembroke West.
the law of averages show that every inhabitant

Statistics and

spends half her waking and an undetermined
percentage of her sleeping hours in the smoking
Hence I feel justified in describing this
as the representative microcosm.

room.
Innocent out-
siders have often wondered what the girls did
with themselves during those long hours. They,
with the varied world at their feet, little realize
what diversity of life can be confined within
four walls. Some of the girls are able to satis-
fy their social instincts by talking. Others wrap
themselves in a thesis or a book to catch up on
the academic life. Still others go into seclusion
over a game of solitaire. Occasionally the dif-

ferent occupations encroach upon one another,

DOROTHY FOX RICHARDSON

MARY RIESMAN

as for example when the athletic and artistic
world, represented by the modern dancer, lands
in the middle of big business, upheld by the pay

day mistress and her adding machine. Smoking

Even the fire

joins the fun here, at times threatening to out-

is the one pastime in common.

smoke the others since its brand, smelling of
coal gas, is more potent than theirs.

To sum up I might say that everything has
made its impression on the rug, which has be-
come the Pem West relic. In spots the fabric
has been renewed and transformed by the un-
earned increment accumulated through the years,
—everything from ink to crackers. But in other
spots it is worn threadbare. As such, may I also
say that the character of the rug has left an

indelible impression on us.




LA MAISON FRANCAISE

Cherchez la Place

“Y a-t-il de la place a la maison francaise ?”—
question importante qui se pose vers l’heure de
diner.

I] faut d’abord aller consulter la double liste
de noms suspendue prés de la salle 4 manger:
noms des internes qui sortent et des invités qui
les remplacent. Comme la Presidente de la mai-
son francaise le fait remarquer avec fermeté,
il faut que le nombre des invités ne depasse pas
Ainsi,

malheureusement, il n’y a pas trés souvent “de

le nombre des jeunes filles qui sortent.

la place.”

Pourquoi cette concurrence pour les places
vides a la maison francaise? Pour commencer,
le Frangais soutient quil n’est pas proprement
bavard. Sil faut le croire la maison francaise

est trés peu francaise a cet égard—ou peut-étre
est-ce le phenomeéne d’Americaines parlant fran-
cais, qui est responsable pour la contradiction.
Peut-étre, dans ce cas loin d’étre une obstacle

a la pensée, le francais serait-il une sorte de

©

On

langue liberatrice des idées; les jeunes filles qui
parlaient peu au commencement de l'année sont
maintenant toutes aussi bavardes que les autres.
Dans les grands dortoires, le sens de manger en
masse et la forme méme des tables qui s’étalent
en longueur désesperant enléve quelquefois toute
envie de bavarder. La parole libre et spontanée
s allie, comme le témoigne la maison francaise,
plutot avec une atmosphere dintimité non-in-

stitutionelle.

En tous les cas, aller diner a la maison fran-

Gaise, ce nest pas pour sy ennuyer.

Mademoiselle Brée, la warden actuelle, est
encore une raison pour demander “Y a-t-il de la
place?” Assise a la téte de la grande table,
“Voeil éveillé, Voreille au guet,” et toujours
préte a rattraper une idée pour la relancer en-
core plus haut, elle produit un constant renou-
vellement de débats et de blagues. On est sur,

aussi d’y trouver des autres membres de la facul-
PATRICIA R. ROBINSON

broad at Home



CATHERINE JANDINE RICHARDS LOUISE THOMPSON



té de temps en temps qui ont lair de s’amuser

tout autant que les étudiantes.

Il ne faudrait pas oublier, en marge, que la
cuisine de Wyndham semble avoir fait un effort
considérable pour justifier sa nouvelle relation
avec la France. (Les esprits plus litterals com-
prendront quil est plus facile de faire la cuisine

pour un petit nombre que pour un grand.)

Mais bien trop souvent on trouve “qu‘il n'y

29

a pas de la place.” Alors on y va apres diner
pour prendre le café dans le salon qui, a

Vencontre des showcases, a les proportions con-



fortables et naturelles d’une maison habitée. On
y trouve assez de place sur le parquet pour
d’enormes parties de pounce, et de divans et
fauteuils en assez grand nombre pour que tout
le monde peut causer confortablement. Parfois
ces causeries prennent une tournure litteraire ou
politique; bien souvent leur ton vont tout simple-
ment s’abaissant, tout le monde y mettant son
poids avec grand plaisir, pour tomber finalle-
ment dans une sorte de vulgarité post-prandiale.

agréable, et souriante.

Mais a toute heure, il nous semble a nous qui
ne sont pas de la maison, que cest dune facon
bien avantageuse que Wyndham a pris con-
science de sa nouvelle nationalité: par lintimite,

la bonne cuisine, et la parole gaie et vivante.


RO € Rk E FUE UE UL cE. OR


MARIAN DIEHL



R. SHINE



ANNE RAUCH BERTHA RAUH COHEN




PEGGY McEWAN MARTH EATON

A ROCK GARDEN OF DOGGEREL

Four and twenty blackbirds But hell soon be gone.
Baked in a pie; “My turn now! Oh dear! Please Lyn,
And speeches and toasting, Go away darling, I’ve just cut in.”

But specially pageantry,
Does Rock present at Christmas,

eat ike e) bo
That’s different from the rest. Whe Tailed! Cogs Relat

For he’s been found dead

With a rubber tipped dart

Now isn’t that superior fare

To offer to a guest.
In the back of his head.

It’s someone from Rock,

The north wind doth blow, For they practice their aim

And we shall have snow— On a ticking tin target.

Martha Washington, bells, and streamers of See what comes of a game!
white

For Rock is having a dance tonight.
The night is cold but the music is hot; In Buzzy’s head is many a trick,
Ma Washington’s white but the orchestra’s not. Like long-lived fire alarms (how we did kick!)
Bruce Hopkins turned down the chance of their
life

Jack be nimble,
When they feared she wasn’t the right sort of

Jack be quick. of
i vife.
Fasten the streamer to the chandelier Ww

Then help us move the furniture, dear.

Rub-a-dub-dub
Two girls and a wagon
As to a maypole, let us on. On Monday to Rock

Sloan’s here, girls, Our laundry are dragein’.

io}
ro}


Double CAROLINE RANSOM



Hall Dance JEAN CHANDLER SMITH
French Table ADELE THIBAULT



100



102

ALL ROADS LEAD
TO RHOADS

Follow the lure of luxury. Prepare to have
the thrill of a lifetime relaxing in its climactic
comfort. Approach it easily from the south
along magnificent Goodhart highway. On one
hand you will glimpse the superb peak known
as Taylor tower, mythological prison for young
ladies who were lured there annually by its
strange geological formations and _ detained
cruelly by an invisible monster. Your other
hand will tingle with the gothic atmosphere of
Goodhart hall, home of the great Bryn Mawr
dramatic and musical arts for the last two dec-

ades. =

When you arrive you will be delighted with
the secluded exclusiveness of the place. Old-
world charm pervades from the inspiring tower
to the ping-pong table in the basement. Inside,—
miracles of modern magic!—a world of wonder
unfolds before you. We won’t attempt to antici-
pate the sheer sorcery of that moment by any-
thing as prosaic as a description, except to drop
a few words of alchemy which will transmute

your dreams.

Perpetual sunshine: pigeon holes; water
units; P.P.P.s; le sport: lolling on lounges of
jewel-like colors guaranteed to produce an
illusion of anything from the tropics to the
Grand Canyon; gazing at walls of brilliant
blankness designed to make the imagination

work by producing a mental horror vacut.

We now present some juicy highlights from
the great body of publicity that Rhoads has

received.

DON JUAN DOWN RHOADS LAUNDRY CHUTE

Campus Brummel Makes Speedy but Unsuccessful
Escape

Rhoads, Oct. 6th. Startled while enjoying one of his
well known after hours rendezvous with Miss Dove-my-
Love, Beau Juan beat it down the laundry chute. In
his heroic escape he set himself up as a living testi-
monial of the modern conveniences of the new hall.
Unfortunately he was hauled out the next morning
more dead than alive, almost suffocated by a pink slip.
Further action will be taken here today.

College News.
OLD FASHIONED BRYN MAWR GIRL BURIED
IN TIME CAPSULE

Bobby pin, Sock, and Coca-cola Bottle Symbolically
Interred in Rhoads Corner Stone

Inhabitants of Rhoads expected to start a new era.
New Yorker will have to seek elsewhere for college
material.

RHOADS “INFALLIBLE” WATER UNITS
OUT OF ORDER

Freshman Reported Mysteriously Missing

_.. The Dean’s office and Miss Howe are for once
having difficulty putting two and two together.

STATISTICS SHOW MORE RHOADS GIRLS
ENGAGED THAN IN ANY OTHER HALL

The results of a recent yote of men visitors on the
campus reveal that:

a. Men like the cocktail lounge atmosphere of Rhoads,
also the bright colors and the balmy air-cooled breezes.

b. They like to think of their girls as living at a safe
distance from the intellectual and cloistered precincts
of Taylor and the Library. Some were worried, how-
ever, by the fact that Radnor is at an even safer
distance and is affected. The slogan that they are
at present trying to teach the girls as an antiseptic
measure is “Out of sight, out of mind.” In addition
they unanimously selected the following as the Rhoads
theme song:
Its a long way to Taylorary
It’s a long way to go.

WINNERS OF NATION-WIDE CONTEST
ANNOUNCED

Here is what you have been waiting for: the best
answers to our query “Is your boy friend embarrassed?”

This grateful little lady says: “Not any longer. Only
the other night he said to me, ‘Honey, I sure do like
these P.P.P.s. I shudder every time I think of my
experiences in the Pembroke goldfish bowl. I’m so
glad you came to Rhoads. Am I glad too?”

Another happy lassie writes: “I don’t know about
my boy friend, but I do know that I am not embarrassed
any more when he calls because of the plumbing
noises. He knows that Rhoads has taught me the
modern way to housekeeping and that he will not
have to suffer such embarrassments in his own home.
It looks like wedding bells for us.”

A prospective bride answers: “Jim has telephoned
twice as often now that he doesn’t have to pay for
five minutes worth of the maid’s going up to find me.
We are going to be married on the money he saved.
Everything’s so wonderful, and we owe it all to Rhoads.”

A young woman who a year ago was suffering from a
malignant and chronic case of indigestion rejoices:
“Last year the doctors had given me up for starved.
They had sent me to Merion, Pembroke, Denbigh, and
even Rock, but I only got worse and worse. In despair
I went to Rhoads and in one day was 100% improved.
In three days I felt fit as a fiddle. Joe was so delighted
that he came to dinner and was 100% improved too.
Joe wasn’t the only one though. They all flock around
me now and I am going to have to go back to Pembroke
once a week to keep my figure and them too.”



103


CM es
te Wl py

wueniiiipeedite,
i

Wh has tee
tM a

wircetimmui

Banquet Hall





104


GENE ROBERTS IRISH ANNE BLAKE

Smoking Room—Quiet



105



The Kitchen

Name Please!

Play Room

106


Miss Rice and String Quartette JEAN RAUH

ALICE BIDDLE



Ping-Pong ELEANOR BAILENSON



107


FOR RENT

Desirable Rooms

RHOADS NORTH

Inquire - Director of Admissions

BRYN MAWR COLLEGE



108


109
YEAR BOOK STAFF

Editor-in-Chie}

DRI routes maaan ata nm ieh aaa Tiay ccc eal Ete _JuL1a HARrNED

f ALIceE JOHN

ue iV OUOTS ee ee
: i Marcaret EvizaBetH Harvey

Photoenaphy H ditonsn sansa na eee CATHERINE DaLLeTT HEMPHILL
SMO) IPCOHORTOONEP ss 605028 sos noe dos 5 85 46 Doris GreY TURNER
AEM CEL OT eee arr eee ean eed Gols MARGARET FAIRBANK Bet
BusinessmVianagen on eaen eas a oe GeNE Roserts IRISH
AldmentisimemMGnae era iter ream ihr oes asyh eal MarcareT HUYLER
Subscrupivon Manager |e eri lpeneceen Mary Gorpon Woop

f Barpara AUCHINCLOSS

WuentoneASSiStants vse ae ee :
\ Mary ANNETTE BEASLEY

Thanks are due to Margaret Fairbank Bell, Barbara Bigelow,
Margaret Haile Commiskey, Margaret Huyler, Margaret Mac-
Gregor Otis, and Carolyn R. Shine for contributing special articles.
The board also wishes to acknowledge photographs by Katherine
Comey, Mrs. Arthur C. Cope, Jane Gamble, Mr. Stephen J. Herben,
Bettie Tyson Hooker, Mr. Philip A. Livingston, Lilli Schwenk, and

Christie Solter.

110
DIRECTORY

Elizabeth Aiken, Woodland Court, Wayne, Pa.

Eleanor L. Bailenson, 5832 DeLancey St., Philadelphia. Pa.
Sara Blair Huntington Ballard, 48 Ledyard Rd., West Hartford, Conn.
Margaret Fairbank Bell, 1350 Tower Rd., Winnetka, III.

Eleanor Benditt, 247 S. 63rd St., Philadelphia, Pa.

Alice Alleyre Biddle, Route 1, Vancouver, Wash.

Barbara Bigelow, 151 Salem End Rd., Framingham Centre, Mass.

Anne Blake, Malt Hill, Beverly Farms, Mass.

Frances Taplin Bourne, Route 3, See Falls, Ohio

Jane Braucher, Massapequa, N. Y. |... ee ss eae 5
Helen Medlar Bridgman, 6603 Blakemore St., Mt. Airy, Philadelphia, Pa.
Jimmie Broughton, Granville Rd., Route 5, Newark, Ohio |. .
Eloise Chadwick-Collins, Quarré, 239 Roberts Rd., Bryn Mawr, Pa.
May Shan-Feng Chow, 4 Lane 38, Ave. Victor Emmanuel Ili, Shanghai, China
Anne Janet Clark, 112 St. Dunstan’s Rd., Baltimore, Md.

Adele Clement, Elm Hill Farm, Peterborough, N. H.

Eugenia Bowen Coburn, Ridgebury Rd., Danbury, Conn.

Bertha Rauh Cohen, 5516 Northumberland St., Pittsburgh, Pa.
Margaret Haile Commiskey, 4612 Roland Ave., Baltimore, Md.

Elizabeth Corey, 515 Sussex Rd., Wynnewood, Pa.

Caroline de Lancey Cowl, Shediac Cape, N. B., Canada

Ethel Shepherd Dana, 315 E. 68th St., New York City

Denise Andrée Debry, Tarrytown, N. Y. ............

Ann Dewey, 45 North Drive, Great Neck, L. I., N. Y. ;

Dorothy Francis Dickson, National Rd., W., St. Clairsville. Ohio

Marian Diehl, 625 James Place, Erie, Pa. : Mae DAE rate age a
Mary Dimock, Shelter Rock Rd., Manhasset, L. L., N.Y. 0.0.0.0...
Emily Doak, University Station, Grank Forks, N. Dak.

Grace B. Dolowitz, 718 Cortelyou Rd., Brooklyn, N. Y.

Martha Eaton, 2207 eee Drive, Cleveland, Ohio...
Catherine C. Eide, 2761 Sherbrooke Rd., Shaker Heights, Gleveland) Ohio
Laura Estabrook, 42 W. 11th St., New York City ats

Anne Erwin Ferguson, 1322 Stratford Rd., Schenectady, N. Y.

Amanda Elizabeth Gehman, 60 Stockton St., Princeton, N. J.

Helen W. Griffith, 44 Reynolds St., Kingston, Pa.

Gordon Grosvenor, 1028 W. Upsal St., Mt. Airy, Philadelphia

Helen Hurd Hamilton, 746 Franklin Ave., River Forest, III.

Julia Harned, 207 Armory Street, New Haven, Conn.

Margaret Elizabeth Harvey, Gwynedd Valley, Pa.

Doris Jessie Hastings (Mrs. Howard C. Darnell),

717 Old Lancaster Rd., Bryn Mawr, Pa

Frances Eleanor Heins, Shorehaven Rd., East Norwalk, Conn.
Catherine Dallett Hemphill, Elkridge, Md.
Louise Herron, Scofield Barracks, Honolulu, Hawaii

Dorothea Reinwald Heyl, 128 Pennsylvania Ave., Easton, Pa.
Margaret Huyler, 2330 Beckwith St., Honolulu, Hawaii
Gene Roberts Irish, Curren Terrace, Norristown, Pa.

111
DIRECTORY

PAGE
Ingeborg Jessen, Bryn Mawr, Pa. ... pot daria POs aot 80
Alice John, Colburn Hotel, 980 Grant St., Denver Cole! ; a euaret dona 28
Marie Crespi Keith, 47 Woodlawn Ave., Summit, N. J. : Bae 80
Cornelia Rogers Kellogg, 25 Colles Ave., Morristown, N. J... eee 31
Isabel Kurtz, 906 S. George St., York, Pa. ... Te sae ot ea 79
Delia Page Marshall, Lincoln Ave., Swarthmore, Pa... .... is ere cee 31
Peggy McEwan, Loudonville, Albany Co., N. Y. 99
Mary Roberts Meigs, 1736 M St.. N. W., Washington, D. © 33
Sarah Tyler Meigs, 1736 M St., N. W., Washington, D.C. . 93
Mary Charlotte Moon, 755 Park Ave., New York City Kt 37
Jean Lida Morrill, 101 Jefferson Rd., Webster Groves, Mo. 70
Myrtle Danico Niccolls, 483 Washington St., Brookline, Mass. 83
Margaret MacGregor Otis, 138 E. 65th St., New York City . 29
Dorothea Radley Peck, 106 Euclid Ave., Hastings-on-Hudson, N. Y. 78
Virginia Pfeil, 566 W. University Penlameyy Baltimore, Md. 15
Lorna B. Pottberg, 436 Bard Ave., West New Brighton, S. I.. N. Y. ee 32
Caroline Ransom, 2670 Henry St., Augusta, Ga. ...... Nea nrao Ne . LOO
Ann Rauch, 3050 N. Meridian St., Indianapolis, Ind. ...... EAS AVES Ka . 98
Jean Rauh, 5 Upper Ladue Rd., Clayton, Mo. ......................... . 107
Doris Wick Ray, 609 Winsford Rd., Bryn Mawr, Pa. ................ BP es a LS)
Constance Renninger, 141 5. Easton Rd., Glenside, Pa... Suen 67
Catherine Jandine Richards, 116 W. 103rd St., New York City .............. 96
Dorothy Fox Richardson, 21 Sewell Woods Rd., Melrose, Mass. ...... Moke oO.
Mary Riesman, Mountain Ave. and City Line, Oak Lane, Philadelphia, Bae ee OA
Mary Tyrrell Ritchie, 1032 Dinsmore Rd., Winnetka, Ill. ............ 283
Patricia R. Robinson, 280 Convent Ave., New York City ................... 96
Lucile Jarman Sauder, 6534 Cherokee St., Germantown, Philadelphia, Pa. .... 67
Carolyn R. Shine, 250 Greendale Ave., Cincinnati, Ohio .................... 98
Jean Chandler Smith, 3020 Porter St.,. Washington, D.C. ................. 100
Christie Dulaney Solter, 3937 Canterbury Rd., Baltimore, Md. ............. 63
Agnes Williams Spencer, 113 Pinehurst Lane, Moorestown, N. J. .......... 86
Ruth Stoddard, 108 W. Gravers Lane, Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia, Pa. ...... 58
Eleanor Kelloge Taft, 16 Garden Place, Cincinnati, Ohio seuss een cote dO)
Adéle Thibault, Four Winds, Princeton, N. J. .......... seas ds Aan aie Un 100
Louise Thompson, 5215 Second Ave., S. Minneapolis, Minn. .. . MIM lessens tp XO)
Anne Campbell Toll, Tolland, Colo. ....... AM etait nha ed Me ES)
Doris Grey Turner, 307 Hamilton Rd., Wynnew oon Ph, Pes ache A are atceeme on, oy LO)
Martha Corrin Van Hoesen, 188 Bowen St., Providence, R. 1 Been ane 70
Kathleen Murchison Vinup, 5017 Falls Rd., Baltimore, Md. ............ 16
Julia Day Watkins, Hampden-Sydney, Va. ..................... ha tS)
Alys Virginia Welsh, Belrose Lane, Radnor, Pa. .................. ak 16
Mary Caroline Whitmer, 504 Luna Blvd., Albuquerque, N. Mex. ee 68
Florence Bennett Wiggin, 232 Bradley St., New Haven, Conn. ............... 16
Anne Wight, 44 Sumner Rd., Brookline, Mass. ............ Re te so OY
Anne Cabell Williams, Berryville, Va. ..... sea 49
Susanne Preston Wilson, Montgomery Ave. and Pennsw ool Rd., Baya Maw, Pa. 19
Mary Gordon Wood, 181 de Windt Rd., Winnetka, Ill... aeons yA)
Nancy Cooper Wood, Route 1, Jabelwadi Farm, Hatboro, Pa. ........ 92

112
1941
1942
Piven coh EG Hii@n

BUTE DENG EONS ih UC ho N
er TeE IE My JAN ID) Je IL, 12 de IT Jat

ESTABLISHED 1909

1940
E. FOSTER HAMMONDS

INCORPORATED

R.C.A. Radios Victor Records

829 LANCASTER AVENUE
Bryn Mawr



RICHARD STOCKTON

BrYyN MAwr

PENNSYLVANIA

Prints — Sporting Books — Gitts



J. B. LONGACRE
INSURANCE
435 WaLNuT STREET

PHILADELPHIA

Telephone: LOMbard 0435







When you go to town...

For a flying trip or a week-
end, you'll like staying at
Allerton. It's a good address,
convenient to the shopping
district and the bright lights

. and you'll enjoy the gay,
congenial atmosphere, the
many interesting things al-
ways going on. Game rooms.
Music rooms. Comfortable
lounges. An inviting restaurant. And facili-
ties for entertaining your friends. Your own
pleasant living-bedroom, with phone and

maid service, can be had for as little as
$2 a day.





Write for booklet “B’ which tells the
whole Allerton story in pictures.

~

Miss Grace B. DRAKE, Manager

AGE Eee: OUN Hs OeUsoee
FOR WOMEN

57th Street at Lexington Avenue
New York, N. Y.



Bryn Mawr

C@ PEE Gea

A CORDIAL WELCOME

to the Class of

L9Ss

from

The Alumnae Association

of Bryn Mawr College
HOBSON & OWENS

Furniture - Rugs - Lamps
Novelties of All Kinds
1017 Lancaster Avenue

Bryn Mawr, Pa.

E. A. WRIGHT COMPANY

Engravers - Printers - Lithographers

PHILADELPHIA, PA.

Compliments of

A FRIEND

CATES & SHEPARD

ELECTRICAL AND MECHANICAL

CONTRACTING ENGINEERS

401 N. Broap STREET

PHILADELPHIA



J. E. LIMEBURNER CO.

GUILD OPTICIANS

827 Lancaster Ave. Bryn Mawr

1923 Chestnut St.
Philadelphia

535 Cooper St.
Camden

319 DeKalb St.
Norristown

431 Old York Rd.

Jenkintown

51 W. Chelten Ave.
Germantown

6913 Market St.
Upper Darby

Compliments of

DN de ek let) ID)



Approved Penna. Private Business School

BUSINESS TRAINING
BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION

\ AND SECRETARIAL SCIENCE
VAIN



“ for young men and women.

One, Two and Three Years
Day and Evening Courses
8 Weeks Summer Session



Founded 1865

PEIRCE SCHOOL

Pine St. West of Broad Philadelphia, Pa



ROHR & COXHEAD

CATERERS
For Downright Goodness



Geo. L. WELLS, ING.

— HOUESALE
BxbWISI i NS AND PQULTRY

, rad 404 N.SECOND STREET
PHILADELPHIA O tis

~



The Standard of
Fine Quality in

ICE CREAM





Oven AVE
and To Hold

It's only human to want to own things .. . and just as human to want to keep
them. But as you acquire material possessions, a home, furnishings, business,
automobile, jewelry, furs, etc. ... you are constantly faced with the possibility
of losing them by fire, explosion, embezzlement, accident and other hazards.
The logical solution is insurance. There is a policy available against prac-
tically every hazard that threatens your financial welfare. Consult your Agent.



COPYRIGHT 1932 by
INS. CO. OF NORTH AMERICA

INSURANCE COMPANY OF NORTH AMERICA

PHILADELPHIA
FOUNDED 1792

And its Affiliated Companies write practically all forms of insurance,
except life.
LOMBarp 7800 Park 4781

ROBERT E. LAMB COMPANY
J. M. THOMPSON & CO.

BUILDING CONSTRUCTION Sylvia Brand Canned Foods

Frozen Fruits and Vegetables

843 N. 19th Street Philadelphia
943 N. Second Street Philadelphia



Poth DrEPHTACS BEAUTIFUL SUBURBAN HOTEL

On the Main Line

Convenient to Bryn Mawr

Rooms with bath or
en suite

Terrace Restaurant

Po
ores"
aim{

HOTEL

City Line € Lancaster Pike
Overbrook, Phila, Pa.

C. GEORGE CRONECKER



Manager
HAYDEN HARDWARE

Compliments of |

A FRIEND

O. K. SHOE REPAIRING SERVICE

of the

Cass oF 1939

Contribute Painlessly to the
College Scholarship Fund
by buying your books and supplies

in the

COLLEGE BOOKSHOP

All profits go to scholarships



FOR BETTER WORK

Go to
867 LANCASTER AVENUE
BRYN MAWR, PA.

W. G. CUFF & CO.
Electrical Contractors
BRYN MAWR, PA.
VICTOR RECORDS RADIOS
Phone, Bryn Mawr 823

Marcaret J. SMITH
Phone, Bryn Mawr 809

Bryn Mawr MARINELLO SALON

National Bank Building
Bryn Mawr, PENNA.

Beauty Craft in All Its Branches



COLONY HOUSE, Inc.

778 LANCASTER AVENUE

Bryn Mawpe, PENNA.

In appreciation of the patronage given
by Bryn Mawr College students

during the past year

Sportswear
Lingerie Blouses

Evening Wear





THE GREEKS”

(Bryn Mawr ConrFeEcCTIONERY)

Will welcome its new college friends and serve
them as it has the class that passes on.
Congratulations to

1939



Phone: Bryn Mawr 252

ClO uN EN Esler

THE MAIN LINE FLORISTS
Graduation Flowers
1226 LANCASTER AVENUE
ROSEMONT, PA.



FRANCES O'CONNELL

Featuring Smart Dresses for All Occasions

$7.95 to $29.50

831 LANCASTER AVENUE
BRYN MAWR, PA.







BRYN MAWRP. R. R. TAXI

Bryn Mawr 513
Bryn Mawr 570

JEANNETT'S

BRYN MAWR FLOWER SHOP

INC.
823 LANCASTER AVENUE

Bryn MAwr

Floral Ideas for All Occasions

JANE TOOHER

SPorT CLOTHES

SCHOOL — COLLEGE — CAMP
711 BoyLston STREET
Boston, Mass.
Gymnasium Garments

Regulation College Blazer

(Imported Expressly for Bryn Mawr College)

OFFICIAL OUTFITTER FOR BRYN Mawr COLLEGE





Makers of the Official Class Rings and
Charms for Bryn Mawr College

GIFTS
That Are Sure to Please

For Birthday, Graduation, Wedding and
other Gifts, choose from one of the im-
portant stocks of America—the Bailey
name is ever a symbol of quality and

moderate price.

SCHOOL RINGS, EMBLEMS, CHARMS AND
TROPHIES OF THE BETTER KIND

BANKS< Bip
B iN Wale Silversmiths sen OLR G

Established 1832

1218 CHESTNUT STREET
Philadelphia

FELIX SPATOLA & SONS

Wholesale

FRUITS — VEGETABLES
Bell, WALnut 5600

Keystone, RACE 7351

READING TERMINAL

PHILADELPHIA
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W, (Eel

that a successful Class Annual results
from the enthusiasm and intelligent
effort of its Publication Board,
supported by the technical facilities

of an experienced Publisher.

Our facilities and service embrace
complete planning and layout, photo-
engraving, printing and binding of

Annuals, Catalogues and Periodicals

LIVINGSTON PUBLISHING COMPANY

Printers and Publishers to Schools, Colleges and Camps

NARBERTH PENNSYLVANIA

This Book was typeset and printed by Lyon and
Armor, Inc., Philadelphia; covers manufactured
by the Kingsport Press, Kingsport, Tennessee,

for the account of the Livingston Publishing Co.







This Book

may not he
aken from ‘i:
Library.


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