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

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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

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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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PETER PAN IN SILENCE N Kensington Gardens its was twilight-in Kensington, London, that merry daytime abode of sunny babies, white-clad nurses, and throngs of gay, careless little boys and girls. It was a strange, hostile twilight whose gray shadows made shapeless blurs of the trees and statues. An eventide loneliness breathed from deserted walks and lawns. Chill breezes whispered faintly, Rest .... Rest. It is such a trouble to be happy! Into this cool, hostile twilight wandered Alice, a little fair-haired six- year old, escaped from her nurse and coming, as a dauntless few had before her, to explore the regions of fairyland. Yet what a world of seeking lay behind those wide blue eyes. In and out she threaded her way, stopping every once in a while to shake her head in despair. '4Dear, how queer it looks! she murmured. When Bobby and I came through with Nurse, it was different, and much nicer. But I mustn't lose my way, because I must find Peter Pan, I must! And in other parts of the garden, the very same Peter Pan was sur- veying his dominion with impatient eyes. H'm. They all say they love me, these children. But not one of them has the courage to stay behind after closing time to really play with me. I did, once, when I was a real boy. Oh, I was a clever one, then! And wouldn't I show those boys some fun, if I were back again, wouldn't I just! Now you must know that though the fairies loved Peter Pan very dear- ly-indeed the queen secretly worshipped his golden curls and gleaming teeth, they rather distrusted him. He was such a queer, mischievous fellow that they feared to let him out among the children, as he had pleaded, in case he might grow suddenly tired and assume his own form toj join in the fun. That was something they could not permit. The queen herself, in all the splendor of her elfin velvet and ermine, had warned him. We have decided to grant you plea, Peter Pan, because we are all very fond of you, as you know. 'slndeed and I thank you, Lady Queen, Peter bowed humbly before her. But there are certain laws to be obeyed, the Queen continued, trying to be stem though smiling graciously at Peter's bow. One of these laws is that a fairy must never be seen in his or her original form, by a mortal. And after all, you are a fairy, aren't you, Peter? Indeed and I am not! Peter answered indignantly. I had a real mother once, and she was ever so much prettier than any of your fairies! Be still! The Queen was regal, sharp. Then abruptly descending, she asked almost shyly, Prettier, even than the Queen? Way! said Peter tactlessly. Well, resumed the queen angrily, you cannot say you are a real boy, so we consider you a fairy. And you are never to move from the statue which we have decided to give you. If you do move, or utter a single sign or word, you will be punished by having to remain thereafter in that form forever! All these days a wearisome duty he had found it to obey, never more wearisome than tonight. He fretted and fumed and watched the big London Page Seventeen