The Panther. (Atlanta, Georgia) 19??-1989, April 01, 1947, Image 2

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Page 2 The Panther March-April, 1947 * CLARK COLLEGE PANTHER " The Significance of Youth ON THE BOOKSHELVES 00 A Journal of Negro College Life Published from October to June ivuvw/uvuvuwn/uw VOICE OF THE STUDENTS VUWMMWWUWIMVW IVUVUWUWMVUVUWV MOUTHPIECE OF THE COLLEGE IWWUWMMWMWWW A promoter of school spirit by encouraging projects and efforts among student groups and individual students. A medium through which an opportunity is provided for students to obtain experience in news gathering, reporting, book-reviewing, edi torial, and creative writing. An instrument for fostering friendly and constructive criticism of campus activities. H. McCAREY KENDALL ’48 Editor-in-Chief GUYLON SMALL ’48 JAMES E. McCALLUM ’47 Associate Editor Associate Editor ROLAND HAYNES ’49 News Editor Maurice Downs ’47 and E. Simpson ’50 Society June Blanchard ’49 and Lona Brown 50, Emery Wimbish '48 Literary Agatha Daniel ’49 and E. L. Parker ’48 Feature Walter Jarnigan ’49 and H. D. Gates ’49 Art Cecil A. Blye, Helen Nelson ’50 and D. E. Collington JSports Carriedelle Kynds ’48 and George Waters ’50 —Exchange Edward W. Symth and H. Royal ’50 Business Managers Charles Price ’50 - -Advertising Manager Walter Crawford ’47 _ Circulation Manager D. Wahington ’48, E. Haynes ’50 Photographers Barbara Lowery ’49 _ Staff Secretary Brady Jones 50, Xanthene Sayles ’50, Elizabeth Brown ’50, Alfonso Levy ’50, Ruth Woodward ’50 Jteporters Bertha Tarver ’48, Bessie Brown ’47, Katheryn Jones ’47, Thelma Alman ’49, Louise Harris ’48 - Typists C. C. Posey and J. F. Summersette Faculty Advisors A VETERAN SPEAKS Do not be deluded by the title of this editorial into believing that this veteran contends that because, by accident, a portion of our population happened to have served in some branch of the Armed Forces, they are to be held distinctly apart from the gen eral populace. Such is not meant there. Rather the veteran is to be regarded as an integral part of the already existing social structure. It may be that because of experiences gained through service in the Armed Forces the veteran’s position of awareness ..might burn at a whiter heat, which makes him more prone to a more hasty course of action, a greater seriousness of thought, and to an unusual cognizance of the maladjustments and ills of the social order whose existence he fought to preserve. The veteran is not a freak of nature, though often treated as such, and does not want to be regarded as something special or out of the ordi nary. That said, let us focus our attention on a question that has challenged the best minds of the nation and probably the world— the question of the political muddle and state of corruption in Georgia. It is almost incredible that, following in the wake of a war fought presumably for world democracy and freedom, there should ..arise people who would deny a segment of the population a whole some participation in the type of government they fought to be free to construct and preserve. But this is what is happening in Georgia—in the United States—before the blood of American soldiers of World War II, spilled in the battle stations of the world for principles—noble, just, and good—can dry from their boots. This is what is happening to the aspirations of thousands of Negroes in the state of Georgia because its legislators are boldly and wickedly attempting to enact laws expressly designed to pre vent their exercising constitutional rights and duties—particu larly the right to vote. And why? Because they have been blinded by the doctrine of “white supremacy” and fail to see the real issues involved. These tobacco chewing and Negro hating legislators line the halls and fill the benches of the Georgia General Assembly because they have been elected by persons blinded to the real issues—persons blinded by prejudice and bigotry. Neither the legislators nor the constituents can see that the legislation that they seek to enact will inevitably not only take the bread out of the mouth of the Negro but out of their own mouths as well. What then are the real issues? Not white supremacy which is only a shield purposely intended to arouse these irrational peo ple as the red flag infuriates the bull, who does have an excuse since he was not given a brain to use. The real issue is big busi ness. The big business interest of Georgia has been intent upon keeping before the face of the Georgia cracker this curtain of prejudice and bigotry—white supremacy—in order to camouflage their own selfish interests, to camouflage “big business suprem acy.” One has only to look closely at the type of legislation now being passed by the General Assembly to understand that the whole endeavor of big business is to maintain a favorable com mand over cheap labor. This, however, they cannot reveal. They cover the whole issue and rally thousands of poor whites, who are poor because they made and are keeping them so, to their “cause” by showing them imagined threats of the Negro with the ballot—Negro and white intermarriage, Negro public office holding (as if that were a crime), Negro competition in jobs, and Negroes going to schools with their children. What the poor, ignorant, tobacco chewing, half starved, ragged crackers fail to see is that they have more in common with the poorer Negro than with the sons and daughters of the Candlers, the Arkwrights, and the Allens. These stupefied creatures cannot see that they are half starved, ragged, poorly housed, poorly trained, poorly paid, and at the bottom of the economic heap for the same reason that the Negro is there. Were he not so blinded by “white su premacy” he could see that by taking his black friend by the hand and working together with him they could both be raised from the terrible fate of economic suppression and oppression. But the fact Citizenship Week During the fall and winter of 1945 several youth groups who met in the canteen and club rooms of the Butler Street Y. M. C. A. began to think in terms of the problems that youth are confronted with in their quest for greater participation in our democ racy and for the development of a well-rounded life. Many conferences were held, discussion groups were conducted. Out of these came a pro gram which has as its purpose, not only the advocation to the youth of Atlanta of their inalienable rights as members of a democratic society, but of their responsibilities as citizens of the community. Fifty-five thousand Negro youth are struggling to adjust themselves to the many problems that beset them in their quest for security, hap piness and full membership in the family of community citizens. Youth Citizenship Week has been designed in the midst of unfavorable situations to create within youth visions of new horozons that will enable them to take their places as responsible citi zens of the community. By citizenship we mean full parti- pation in every sense of the word. To be sure, the word has a charming sound, but the sound of the term must not blind us to the full sense con veyed by the term—tis rights and citizeship which tool long has been our lot. Such half-way measures have no place in America. Youth Citizenship Week proposes to awaken an awareness on the part of Ameri can Negro youth and to shape the thoughts of youth on citizenship. Surely there can be no greater and inspiring challenge expressed relative to the topic than that expressed by Sterling Brown’s “Strong Men.” The lifelong struggle that has greatly conditioned the life of the Negro and his determination is deeply portrayed in his poem: The strong'men keep a-comin’ on, The strong men keep, a-comin’ ’on, The strong men keep a-comin’ on, The strong men keep a-comin’ on, The strong men git stronger. The strong men git stronger. The strong men git stronger. The strong men git stronger. The strong men . . . coming on The strong men gittin’ stronger. Strong men . . . Stronger . . . —ROLAND HAYNES. CLARK OCTET RETURN FROM EASTERN TOUR (Continued from Page One) membership of Mrs. Henry Phieffer, the one great soul who has done so much for the unveiling of ignorance from the eyes of youth, irrespective of race. As a special outlet for the mem bers who composed the group, the New York Clark Club with the Rev. Joshua Licorice as president made it impossible for the concert group to tour Rocketta Center and other in teresting places. Members composing the group were the following: Basses: Anderson Bry ant, senior; Thomas Grissom, Jr., Jules Conway, freshman; Baritones: Borah Walton, sophomore; first tenors: Louis Brown, Joseph Steven son. Words of gratitude and thankful ness must be given to Prof. J. De- Koven Killingsworth, head of the Clark College Department of Music, for the skillful training which he has executed in preparation for the Clark College Octet’s appearance. Certain ly without artistic, tireless guidance as a reputable musician, Clark Col lege’s Music Department could not have developed into what it is today. Hello, there. While browsing around the library shelves this past month, I’m sure you’ve noticed the very in teresting display of recent books. This month’s column will feature the best of these. Incidentally, they are all books by young authors—should be inspiring to the creative writers among us. First, there’s “The Street”—“-the starkly realistic novel that won for its author, Ann ePtry, the Literary Fellowship. It’s a story of a young Negro girl, Ludie, and her futile struggle against the destroying and crushing influence of the “Street” in a New York ghetto. It’s so intensely human that you’ll find yourself hat ing the “Street” and its inevitable ruin for the people who inhabit it. “Shakespeare in Harlem” is not only one of the best introductions to Langston Hughes but an appropriate description of the author. It is marked by the same pervasive feeling for his fellows, the same infectious music, and the same admixture of laughter and tears as his other vol umes. Read it and laugh and cry, become embittered then heartened by this profound and incisive book. It’s modern and intensely human poetry— no need for a glossary or a dictionary of classical allusions, for Hughes’ dictionary is life. I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of talk about a new era—a coming era. Don’t Book Review THE SNAKE PIT By Mary Jane Ward. 278 pp. New York: Random House The Snake Pit is a brilliant and uncompromising picture of life in a mental hospital. It is the story of a girl who lost her mind—and found it. Virginia Cunningham, the heroine, had been a good novelist.' She had moved with her husband from the se curity of a small mid-western town to New York City where their savings rapidly dwindled. Long and stren uous hours of concentrated effort on her new novel, supplemented by anx iety to alleviate financial insecurity precipitated a complete nervous breakdown. One day she simply blacked out, and for months after wards was only at intervals conscious of who or where she was. It is these periods of comparative sanity which she recalls in this realistic account. When she is first conscious of being in Juniper Hill, the memory of her immediate past is blank and her rea soning processes are slow and wan dering. She believes that she is in a prison as a voluntary observer and that her husband, Robert, must have urged her to write a novel on prison life, but how and when she does not know. Tragically she comes to the realization that she is not in a prison, nor is she an observer. She knows that something is wrong with her head, an dthat Juniper Hill is an in stitution for those who are mentally ill. With wit, charm, and keen obser vation, Miss Ward vividly and super bly enables the reader to live with Virginia through every conceivable experience in such an institution. We share her helplessness under its iron discipline; we share her horror and fear when subjected to the antics of the more violent inmates; we share dread of the “tubs” and shock thera py. But there are other times when we feel with her the blessed refuge of Juniper Hill—a refuge from a life too complex for a sick mind to face. The tope of the book is not totally depressing or dreadful as many read ers might expect. Although sometimes it is heartrending, it is lightened by frequent touches of humor and wit, you feel that you should know more about it? Roi Ottley’s “New World A’Comin’ ” and Walter White’s “A Rising Wind” furnish some of the best formulated material on this sub ject. - The style of Ottley’s book is rather racy and informal—easy but absorbing reading. For you racially alert readers (and this includes everyone, I hope), here is a book that is a. “must” on your list. It’s Dorothy W. Baruch’s “Glass House of Prejudice,” a hard-hitting book describing the results and causes of prejudice toward minority groups in the United States. It explains with clarity and force the effects of prejudice both on the people toward whom it is felt and on the people who feel it. Read it—think on it£— and join the ranks of people who want a working democracy. Here’s a book of poetry that will never grow old—in fact its post humous popularity is one of life’s lit tle ironies. It’s Walt Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass.” Once you begin to get the feel for Whitman, you’ll not leave this book that terrified, shocked, and infuriated nineteenth century prudes. Such poems as the pulsating “Song of Myself” will come to you long after you’ve read it. Well, it’s time to go already. Goodbye and Good Reading. JUNE MARIE BLANCHARD, ’49. which are always sympathetic, but never cruel. Nor does Miss Ward’s account ever assume the tone of a case history or scientific study. It stands the test of the good novel in which we find the intensely human, the individual, the incongruous, the sympathetic and the antipathetic. We anxiously follow the story of the brilliant, likable, over-strained and broken heroine from her first light of self-memory to complete recovery and a rediscovered world. RIME AND REASON LIFE What difference is life to the world— What difference does it make if life be rich or poor, For life is but a one inch piece of wood Floating upon the world of oceans. Matter it not if the wood be pine, Matter it not if the wood be oak, It matters not for in a given time They alike will fade away— Lost upon the oceans of the world Never to float again. So let the pine keep on its course So let the oak ride the wave and the wind It matters not— For soon they will be lost in oceans of the world. J. Brown TO THE COMMON MAN Why was I meant to exist here under the sky And know nothing but toil and trouble, Always—until I die? Why was it meant that I have hard ships and setbacks— To suffer? Could it not have been as easy for me to live like a king? Cease to fret, comrades; you live a glorious life. For each battle you win, for each hardship You overcome — in your crown in heaven, another star is placed. “A man at leisure”—that’s no com pliment; An insult it should be. For someone else will say, “A shift less one is he.” Arise, comrade, there is work to do— The eternal fate of nations depends much upon you. J. McCallan COMPARISON Today I saw two passers-by Pause near a budding rose; The one saw only ugly thorns, And spoke of mending has* *. The other with ecstatic joy Breathed deep the fragrance rare, Saw only velvet-petalled buds— Of thorns, quite unaware. remains that they cannot see. They must, therefore, fall prey to the beast of their own creation and "perpetuation—big business. But it is ont a hopeless case or a battle entirely lost for the Negro. Let us respond, reminiscent of James W. Johnson when he said that we will not let one prejudiced person, one hundred or million blight our lives; we will not let prejudice or any of its attendant humiliations bear us down to spiritual defeat; our inner lives are ours and we shall defend its integrity against all the powers of hell. Julius Daugherty