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C A M P U S M I R R 0 R
18
CLASS WILL
STATE OF GEORGIA,
County of Fulton.
We, the Senior Class of Spelman
College, in the County of Fulton, State
of Georgia, being of sound mind and
body, but realizing our college days are
limited, and having certain real and
imaginary effects of which we wish to
dispose, do hereby declare this our Last
Will and Testament:
Article I. To the administration we
bequeath our best wishes for a better
Senior Class next year and the realiza
tion of the dream for a new gymnasium.
Article II. To our advisors we be
queath our gratitude and thanks and
wish them success with other students in
the years to come.
Article III. To the juniors we leave
the name of “seniors,” and all the dig
nity and responsibilities of the same.
Article IV. To the Sophomore Class
we leave our athletic ability and best
wishes for the remaining two years.
Article V. To the freshmen we be
queath our dramatic ability and the
hope that they will become seniors.
Article VI. To certain individuals we
hereby bequeath the following:
Gwen Horton: Janet Bond’s senior
dignity.
Given Jackson: Velma Graham's com
petence in Gym.
Jennie Crocrojt: Kitty Southerland's
ability to stay awake.
Frieda McGhee: Clemmie Sanders’
ability to wear and appreciate the art,
handicraft, and durability of a pair of
loafers.
Gloria Gardner: Martha Robinson’s
best wishes for a typewriter to enable
her to get term papers in on time.
Barbara Peek: Eunice Goss’ quaint
boudoir in Morehouse North.
Dolores Gayles: Vivian Baker’s ability
to play bass violin.
Joan Purvis: Eunice Goss’ job as
editor of Campus Mirror.
Bertha Baker: Grace Diggs’ stature.
Clotilda Daniels: Grace Diggs’ holey
socks.
Pauline Mackey: Verna Turner’s en
joyment of experiences in the Home
Management Apartment.
Helen Davis: Virginia Moreland's
promptness at chapel.
Barbara Peek: Dot Collins’ seat at
the sewing machine.
Virdie Alexander and Gwen Mizell:
Louise Johnson’s major in extra-curricu
lar activities.
Clara Knight—;Jerry Young’s seat in
the Glee Club.
Let tie Riddle: Janet Talley’s ability
to wear size 12 dresses.
Martha Adams: Martha Swinton's
ability to listen to speakers intelligently.
//arryette Cuthbert: Florine Parker’s
perseverance at the piano.
Jennie Cocroft: Alma Blanton’s silent
laugh.
Doris Moultrie: Jerry Young’s temper
tantrums.
Lettie Riddle: Alma Blanton’s boy
friends.
Dolores Coward: Dot Johnson’s ability
to remain at Spelman four years without
becoming campus bound.
Della Foster: Hester Hall’s infinite
knowledge of Biology.
Elynor Pettus: Anna Whittaker’s abil
ity to talk fast when necessary.
Mary Boldridge: Dot Little’s ability
to get along with Miss McVeety and
avoid unpleasant consequences.
Faye Green: Eddye Champion’s ability
to walk with poise and dignity.
Gloria Gardner: Jackie Creed’s ability
to hold first base.
Gwen Jackson: Eldora Love’s ability
to get places “10” minutes before
“time”.
Thelma Southerland: Wilma Ander
son's knack of meddling, accompanied
by pleasant consequences.
Doris Coleman: Elizabeth Lee’s ability
to eat starches in the dining hall and
retain the same weight.
Future French Club Prexy: Elise
Fortson’s copy of “LaRousse”.
Future French Classes: Elise Fort-
son’s French vocabulary.
Virdie Alexander: Margaret Grant’s
habit of giving and ability to give as
well as receive compliments.
Leatrice Traylor: Lillian Carter’s
promptness to enable her to be on time
for graduation in ’51.
Quo Vadis Stanford: Mary Shy’s abil
ity to remain at Spelman and leave
Clark to her sister.
Sylvia Potter: Pauline Riley’s ability
to remain cool, calm, and collected.
Lena Johnson: Altoise Chenault’s
mastery of keyboard.
Alta Ruth Jones: Maurice Mitchell’s
singing ability.
Lillie Waters: Rosa Hendrick’s cap
and gown, provided that she remains the
same weight.
All Juniors: Leona Reddick’s ability
to stay awake in chapel, classes, vespers,
and concerts.
Shirley Cartman: Jane Hunter’s skill
with the violin.
Signed on this 5th day of June, one
thousand nine hundred and fifty.
SENIOR CLASS, ’50.
W it nesses:
ALMA BLANTON
ELISE FORTSON
JANE HUNTER
MAURICE MITCHELL
YOU LAIN HEAR THEM SAY . . .
Mr. Bacote: Do you mean to say this
learned class . . .
Mr. James: Ignorance is afoot . . .
Dr. Faustian: Now I would say 1802
is nearly correct but to be more specific,
1920 . . .
Mr. Bullock: You’ve got the idea, but
it’s not quite right.
Mr. Thomas: Be more specific.
Dr. E. B. Williams: Now, yes, you do
know. Let me show you you know.
Mr. Harreld: Shirley, come here, son.
Mrs. Hunt: Yes, I know, but that’s
the rule.
M iss McVeety: I’m sorry but you'll
have to rip that out.
Dr. Eagleson: Tomorrow we're going
to have a little quiz.
Mr. Harreld: Miss Starks, get my
music out of my car—you do know my
car, don’t you?
Miss Johnson: I don’t know about
that . . .
Miss Rice: You seniors talk about
responsibility but, etc., etc., etc. . . .
Mrs. G. Smith: And uh . . .
Miss Lipford: Get this down . . . I’ve
told you this before? . . . Well, it's
time to tell you again.
(Continued from Page 4)
cause of our destitute initiative and our
poverty-stricken vocabularies. We should
be dissatisfied with the “A’s” we have
received for the “C” effort we put forth.
We should be restless for knowledge
above and beyond the requirements. We
should be disgusted with our inability
to think clearly, or simply, to think.
And then, when we are thoroughly
discontent with our over-magnified egoes,
we must set our plans, each according
to his need and skill, to make much
needed corrections and additions within.
There should follow then, a severe case
of general social discontent with the
evils of our society and the fallacies
in our democracy.
We should be discontented with a
liberal arts education when 10 per cent
of our people are still illiterate. We
should be discontented with our academic
robes when there is one American left
ill-clad. We should be dissatisfied that
we have produced only one Ralph J.
Bunche. We should be discontented
when our Southern schools need library
facilities, scientific laboratories and san
itary eating conditions. One thing we
must realize as graduating college stu
dents, and it is this: there should never
be a minute of satisfaction with our
selves as long as we live. And if there
is any one thing which an A.B. degree
should say to us all it is, “You have
only the first two letters of the alphabet:
you still have 24 more to go—”.