Livingstone College - Livingstonian Yearbook (Salisbury, NC)

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HISTORY OF THE CLASS OF ’42 History is the essence of innumerable biographies.” I am the Class of ’42. I am no stranger to you, for my spirit claims a large portion of this land as its habitat. Through my veins runs the blood of many cultures — from the Hoosier state of Indiana — to the now turbulent water of the Atlantic; from the cotton bowl of Georgia — to the empire state of New York. The successes and failures, the ambitions and thwarted hopes of four eventful years tell the story of my sojourn in this historic area. As I Anticipate my departure, in vain do I seek to ascertain what lasting effects have been made on my behavior. Perhaps time alone can reveal this. My gratitude is extended to this Reverend Mother for all she has done to aid my growth in “wisdom and and in stature, and in favour with God and man.” These things l saw and a part of them I was.” «- sfr 1938- 39. When I took residence in this institution they called me Freshman. To many I was a green colossus whose manpower registered one hundred and fifteen. My first appearance was made at a “Get Acquainted Social” given in honor of yours truly. On September twenty-second I elected William Ardrey to lead me. Upon his departure, Catherine Graves assumed this responsibility. My diary for the first year reveals that I published the “Freshman Echo”, captured the young ladies’ basketball championship, was well represented on the varsity football and basketball squads and participated extensively in other extra-curricula activities. At commencement my representa- tives received the following awards: Miss L. Cannady — A.K.A. Sorority prize; J. T. Frazer — Laissez-Faire Hob- by prize; W. D. Bowen — Trent-Walker Oratorical Medal. 1939- 40. September found me once more gathering at this oak templed citadel. Roll call revealed a noticeable loss of manpower. I was undeterred, for experience had taught me that quantity, though necessary, is not always a criteria for success. Walter Bowen was elected as my guide. As a Sophomore I penetrated into organizational leadership and membership — a position which I have since served with commendable sincerity and efficiency. That year I scored a double “V” in inter-class basketball contest by winning the young ladies’ and men’s honors. At commencement I was represented by Walter Bowen and John Frazier, who received the Moore and College Achievement awards respectively. Miss Charlotte Coles, who has since left my ranks, received the Laissez-Faire Hobby Award. 1940- 41. I shall never forget my junior year. I retained the same official board which served me the year before. Though my membership was down to half of its original count, I was nevertheless twice as influ- ential in the life of the college. I became the spearhead of a general student unrest. This was revealed in May when I canceled arrangements for the Junior-Senior Prom after the Social Committee had refused to sanction my plans. Although my decision was surprising to many there were even more who believed that my actions were just because of the principle that motivated them. During that year I repeated my double “V” in the inter-class basketball playoff while Miss Lola Foster placed second in the “Miss Li vingstons” contest. At Commencement John Frazer received the Moore and Williams Awards; Miss Juanita Massey was awarded the Lancaster-Devane Natural Science prize; Walter Bowen once more took oratorical honors by winning the J. C. Price Oratorical Medal and Russel Staton received the Laissez-Faire Hobby Award. 1941- 42. This has been an hectic year. Records show that in October an impressive Hood Literary Program was given in memory of the late Dean F. D. White. In November Miss Fredericka Flack led me to victory in the “Miss Livingstone” contest while, as a fitting prelude to the annual Turkey Day Classic with J. C. Smith University, I sponsored a colorful homecoming parade. May brought with it the Junior-Senior Prom, publication of the “Ell Cee” and Class Day exercises. As a fitting token of my gratitude to the College I presented a sturdy Wayside Preacher — may it ever stand as a guide to passersby and a monument to my indomitable spirit. W. D. BOWEN, President Sail on Oh ship of ' 42, Thy Reverend Mother ' s proud of you. To you she gave from meagre store, And you now rigged, she doth implore For sake of race and humanity — To weigh thine anchor- — put to sea. 19 What though thy courage be now dimmed With skies o ' ercast by minds that sinned? From thy course thou can ' st never swerve, So long as Truth, thy Captgin, dost thou serve. Yet — we serve her best who to ourselves are true, And what we dare to drecjm of, dare to do. 42

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O! LIVINGSTONE!! — Clayton Chaney, ’42. I O, Livingstone! Pride of our college days, The acme of the fondest dreams we dream; Surely thou art a gift of God to men, Beneath thy light our talents rise and beam; O, Livingstone! Thou leadeth faithfully on, ’Til we’re triumphant in the breaking dawn. II O, Livingstone! When we are gone from thee, Dear to our hearts thy mem’ry will remain; Thou art our life, our joy, our ev’ry breath, Success assured, thou wilt our strength sustain; O, Livingstone! Whatever path we trod, We’re true to thee — true to thy guiding God. (Set to music to tune: Finlandia). ODE AT COMMENCEMENT — Clayton Chaney, ’42. What is Life to me, but thee? And what to feel, and breathe, and see? What tortured days, ’mid rush and haste Would mock my footsteps, ere the face Of dreaded night upon me fell, And fling me writhing into hell! Being for me is full of song. And Death that joy could but prolong; I’ll brave the wind, and storm, and strife, Fight boldly all the trials of life; Scale dizzy heights as yet unknown, Snatch distant truths into the known; With bursting strength strike down the foe, Rid cities great of all their woe; Bring blessed comfort to the earth, Spread wealth and peace ’round every hearth; Build towering structures to thy name, ’Til all mankind would know the fame Of one whom You had driven by pain To write his future — bold and plain. Fame? Could fortune smile upon my head? The Fates of Life with glory shed Upon the deeds that I might do And not concede it all to You? Within the scope of three score ten No blissful years the gods might send Could equal all the peace of mind That would be mine if I should find Your guiding hand upon my brow. Laugh? Dare I to smile with, truthful lips, Not speak the sorrow I must sip? Not cry aloud for aid from thee, Nor grasp your vision which I see? Speak? Put into words the irony That floods my soul, rolls over me And flows below into the sea Of tears that I have spilt? Never!! Not all the castles I have built. Not all the deeds that I have done, Nor all the vic’tries I have won Could fill the gasping, yawning maw Left where, enraptured, held in awe, I’m conquered — yours — for all my days.