Hunter College High School - Argus Yearbook (New York, NY)

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very tired after playing Peter. One must be very quick and lively and gay to do Peter, she said. It doesn't require much more. When I asked which role she preferred, she said quickly I should like you to see The Master Builder. I like doing that best, Andi seeing her, one does not wonder, for she is free, courageous, like Hilda Wangel. Determined, youthful, her personality in many ways coincides with that of the girl who loved the Master Builder. It's not very hard to succeed, she told me. Just keep on working, working, and working, and never mind what people say. Let only your own ideas guide you .... and you'll reach the top! And then I found her not the vague, glamorous romantic actress I had dreamed of, but someone courageous, determined, noble and more satisfy- mg. Cornelia Augusta Newton, Bg3 INTERIM Sing to me- Your voice is harsh and ugly, But your eyes Are pansy velvet Teaching sweet oblivion To mine. Sing to me- Your song is raucous, grating, But your lips Are young and eager And their scarlet warmth is mine To take at will Or leave. Sing to me- I hate you, You are vulgar, clinging, stupid, But- I need your song- F or I am lonely. Mignon Audrey Bushel, A8 Page Fifteen

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BACK STAGE-FOURTEENTH STREET ITH the feelings of a little girl beholding the dawn of a glorious adventure, I started out for the Civic Repertory Theatre and an appointment with its director. I said to myself, Oh, you will see Her at last! Peter Pan with his tumbled hair and heart-rending smile .... Hilda Wangel with her free, strong adoration for the master-builder. .Hedda Cabler, that pale, cold woman who bade her lover kill himself beautifully, and who killed herself at last because she could not live beauty .... You are going to see Masha, the dearest and saddest of the Three Sisters .... Oh, you are going to see Eva Le Gallienne! What will she be? These words sang in my mind as a trembling hand pushed open the tall iron door that shuts the life of the stage away from prying eyes. I found it hard to ask in a steady voice where Miss Le Gallienne's dressing room was, but the man who guarded the door was sympathetically aware of my feelings, and with a kindly smile he guided me through a narrow hall filled with boxes and barrels, cardboard posters and mirrors. We stopped before a green door with Miss LeCallienne tacked unobtrusively upon it .... I would have to wait twenty minutes, the man said- Oh, I'll wait! I murmured, looking at the door and trembling. And while I waited, I learned a great deal of the private life of an actor. Since it was a matinee of Peter Pan, I saw pirates clumping out, poor weak pirates whose feet swam in boots twice the right size, and whose ferocious scars both melted from the heat of flannel shirts and dripped miserably down hot cheeks. I saw one of them stop to knock at a door, from which came forth Wendy, sweet Wendy in her frilly nightgown, with a long Russian cigarette in her hand. I saw Mrs. Darling invite a gentleman to dinner on Sunday afternoon as they should not have any more tiresome rehearsals , and Mr. Darling begged the cabmen to be sure to put his kennel very securely up against the wall, so he could crawl out without moving it. I saw too the lost boys come trooping out of their dressing-rooms in respectable suits and Eton collars, meet their governesses, and go sedately home where they probably forgot Peter Pan entirely. And I even heard the gay Peter Pan himself sigh and ask for his pipes in such a weary tone that I was shocked. Waiting, I ran the gamut of all emotions, from the first amazed unbelief to at last open amusement at their everyday lives. Suddenly I knew by the crowd of people Hocking in that the perfor- mance was over, and with cheeks that would burn and hands that would tremble and a heart that would not stop pounding, I went in to greet sun- tanned Peter, who squeezed my hand and grinned cordially at me. Then she was Peter Pan? Down I sat beside a big dressing-table, a couch, and closet full of hats, coats, costumes, and watched her change from Peter Pan to Miss Eva La Gallienne. Under my very eyes she took off the tan and some of her exuberance with it, confessing that sometimes she was Page Fourteen

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INTERVIEW WITH FAITH BALDWIN 66 E'VE been chasing false alarms all moming, Miss Baldwin said as she welcomed us into her charming home. My six- year old has been sending in fire-alarms and we've had the whole company here. It's been quite an exciting Sunday morning. I don't know much about high schools or high school girls. I'm writing a story about high school girls, but I'm setting it in the country because I feel that city girls are so sophisticated. fWe began to feel a little self -consciousj. It's dilhcult to remember my school days. I went to school here in Brooklyn and then to a finishing school. When I came home I didn't have much to do, so I wrote lots of abominable verses. My father threatened me with all sorts of things if I published them. I didn't till I was eighteen and the book was well received, much to everyone's wonder. That same year I went abroad. When the war broke out, I retumed, and spent my time at Camp Mills, where I published a small newspaper for a club of girls, and or- ganized dances for the boys. It was quite a job and I hated it-especially the paper, but I did it. Soon after that I became engaged and went down to Florida. From there I sent my first novel which was lost in the mail and as I never keep copies, it just wasn't till one day it turned up, and after many adventures was published. When I returned from Florida I was married-but not to the one I was engaged to, she added hurriedly. We struggled on in a small flat. After my four kiddies were born I began to write again-novels now. First I had a job writing continued stories in newspapers. Terrible stuiiil But it was real experience and it taught me a lot about writing. Then I began writing serials for magazines. One of my latest, Ali- mony has just ended in 'Cosmopolitanh One Incredible Year is now running in 'Good Housekeeping'. At this point, our conversation was interrupted by a childish wail from somewhere in the upper regions. That's one of the twins, slightly annoyed at something, Miss Baldwin said nonchalantly. I realize, Miss Baldwin continued calmly, that I don't write best- sellers. I really don't try to. I want to write books that everyone will enjoy-an amusing, interesting novel and nothing more. Miss Baldwin told us she wrote in the house, surrounded by all sorts of noises, with the family all around her, the telephone and doorbell ringing frantically. She writes right on the typewriter and is so used to it that she says she wouldn't be able to write if she had to use long-hand. fShe's a two-fingered typist, howeverj. She showed us the library, where she works. It is on the ground floor. Three of the walls are covered with open book shelves, one section containing all her own books. In the centre is her desk and a comfortable chair. On the walls are many pictures, a darling one of her two oldest, and the original paintings of her first book jackets. Do say a prayer for my grass, she said as we were leaving. Bemice Stamilman, Ag8 Page Sixteen