Arts and Humanities Commons^™

Thou Art The Spoiler, Tom Beckwith

Manuscripts

I first read those words when I was a child of ten. I was living with my grandmother Nell for the summer months. Among a vast selection of old volumes hidden away in her attic, I came across that phrase, and then it meant nothing.

Yankee Rhodian: His Scholarship And Record, Mary Fritsche

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In the forty years of the execution of Cecil John Rhodes' thousand year educational plan, the Rhodes scholarships to Oxford University, offering to the British Empire, Germany, and the United States culture with education and preparation for life rather than for living, the Yankee Rhodian has justified his benefactor's faith in him academically although he has not yet entered sufficiently into the national leadership Rhodes desired of his American scholar.

The Powder Train, Barbara Gene Lucas

Manuscripts

The December day was fading into a mist varying in shades of gray as the leaden skies hovered over the snowblanketed ground. The tint of the cloudy air was deepened now and then, as an exhausted locomotive plowed along the unseen trails of the railroad yard. The black smoke hung densely around the scattered little red buildings which formed the nerve center of the railroad's activity.

Beauty, Allyn Wood

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Yet afterward, she finds her thoughts returning again .and again to the garden. Somehow, she does not know quite why, it seems as if she holds it in the palms of both hands, there with the programme de ballet.

Front Matter

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No abstract provided.

Volume 12, Issue 4: Full Issue

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No abstract provided.

Vignettes

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No abstract provided.

Highest Place In Indianapolis, Linn Hudson

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Maybe some of you don't know what or where the tallest structure in Indianapolis is, so for the enlightenment of those who don't know I shall describe my first visit to this pinnacle of engineering ingenuity.

The Value Of An Art Course, Susan Arne

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Here, then, in art, is an opportunity unleashed for us to grasp and hold in the struggle for the development of man's unlimited resources in the field of humanitarianism.

Let's Stay Out Of It, Mary Schreiber

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No abstract provided.

My Brother's Recital, Bill Dye

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The big night had arrived. My eight; year-old brother was to perform on the "eighty-eight" in his first recital. Tonight was the climax of a month of madness. Four long weeks had seen the rise and fall of the neighbors' patience. Day and night, night and day, all they heard was piano, piano, piano! They, as well as we, almost went mad. It would not have been too bad if Al could have played the piano without making it an instrument of torture .. But his brand of music involved no more than two fingers, one on each hand.

Compulsory Military Training, Rhea Mcgoldrick

Manuscripts

The compulsory military training plan now before congress, but with little chance of immediate consideration, is one of great importance to us all. The fact that we were thrown into war, and were definitely unprepared, has made us fully realize that we should give some deep thought to the problem of future military training for our boys.

Compulsory Religious Courses, Patricia Jowitt

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More and more Americans are turning toward God to discover an answer to their personal needs. Today many of the people of the last generation have no knowledge of the mores which are the necessary foundation of religion. These consider themselves too adult to attend Sunday School; therefore, a substitute for this basic instruction should be provided.

In One World, Tom Beckwith

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How very strange it seems that the majority of minds still believe in distinctions _ yes, distinctions while experiencing life, and, even more absurd and unethical, distinction after life. Can it be that after being submitted to the distinctions between race, color, creed, religion, and position while on earth that we, must go on through eternity, that endless span of existence, still making a distinction between supposedly good and evil?

Herr Muller, Mary Fritsche

Manuscripts

This sketch is based em a short story, "The Lord of Marutea," by James Norman Hall. The setting is one of the islands of French Polynesia. Forrest, a man employed by a German motion picture Company, comes to make a picture of island life and finds Marutea ruled by Herr Muller, the German island trader who has established himself there.

Informal Interview, Betty Jean Wirth

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While eating dinner at the Indianapolis Athletic Club the other evening we noticed an old gentleman dining alone next to us. His loneliness was so apparent that we invited him over to our table. We were quite surprised to find that we had a celebrity in our midst when he joined us. The old gentleman was Meredith Nicholson, American essayist and novelist.

Fashions Of Spring, Barbara Bard

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Queenly spring is here in her cloak of moss-green, trimmed with folds of orchid, white, and yellow. Her fair head is crowned with a golden, glowing sun, and a pale blue and white veil. She brings with her a treasure chest, lavishly filled with natural beauty. Her warm soul gently penetrates through the long, raw winter's cold

An Asset To Society, Nina Gallin

Manuscripts

The majority of the good American doctors today are in the armed services. These doctors have become accustomed to working together and they have had good equipment. Many of them have closed their offices completely, and a large number of these will have no desire to go to great expense to reopen their offices and buy up-to-date equipment (for that, too, is constantly changing). These men have stated preferences for state medicine or, at least, for group work. If it is what the physicians wish and if it will benefit society as much as I believe it will, state medicine …

Canine Caprice, Carolyn Harvey

Manuscripts

"These Never Were Traitors" was the title of the huge composite picture - an artist's attempt to convey his idea of the noble dog. Evidently he knew well the story of the faithful dog mourning in watchful vigil at the grave of his dead master, for he pictured him there amid the eternal green of life and the stone-gray of death. He knew well the knightly heroism of the German shepherd bearing his sign - the Red Cross - among the bloody battlelines of Flanders Field. Perhaps he had seen a child tugged by its clothing from the path of …

That "Exciting Newspaper Life", Joan Werner

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If you were to enter the City Room of a morning newspaper, such as the Indianapolis Star, at noon, it would be virtually deserted. That "exciting newspaper life" of which people often speak would seem definitely false. The shiny black and silver typewriters would have ceased their noisy clatter. The sleek black teletype machines, with their yellow paper tongues curling to the floor, would squat dormant and waiting.

Case Of Claude, Betty Jo Fark

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Claude rose easily when he heard the monotonous voice of the judge announcing, "Case of Claude Winters versus the United States." He was surprised when his pulse didn't quicken. He wasn't excited. He walked forward slowly because he walked stiffly, conscious of the filled court room behind him.

It Rained Today, Mary Alice Kessler

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It had been raining all day. Fritz hated the dingy flannel clouds that hung upon the forlorn pine trees; he hated the squishy gray sand and the dimpled cheek of gray sea water that lay at the foot of the Slippery hill. He hated the prostrate sand grass and dripping birch leaves, for they held him imprisoned in the cottage, and he wanted to walk and swim and race with the wind. He wanted to write, but he couldn't write on a day like this. His inspiration was as bogged down as the muddy sand. There was no wind today, …

When The Apple Trees Blossom, Rosemary Haviland

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Regina waved the bee from her face and watched it circle around her in a dizzy path. When she could no longer see it, she ran to the lilac bush and shook it. The last bee had been hovering among the great purple clusters and had fled when she had touched it. Perhaps there would be another one to shoo away if she looked at each purple mass. Carefully she separated the blossoms with her hands and peered into the shadows. There were no more bees, only the scent of the flowers.

Songs From "Wilhelm Tell", David C. Patrick

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The following selections are translated from the German of the first three songs from "Wilhelm Tell," by Friedrich Schiller.

Not Guilty, Joseph F. Workman

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Second Place, Short Story Division, 1945 Butler Literary Contest

The courtroom was lighted with a bright, blinding flash. The twelve selected ministers of the jury, representing all religious denominations, stared solemnly at the defendant who sat in the seat of judgment. With flrm straight lips but in a manner not Unkind, the foreman arose, and said the jury was ready to hear the evidence. The defendant, a sailor with an oil-soaked uniform that showed spots of blood on his shoulders and chest, stood and faced the jury.

The Birthday, Joan Fuller

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First Place, Short Story Division, 1945 Butler Literary Contest.

The woman's arms were tired, and her back, as she pushed the iron. But the pain of her body was somehow outside her, and she was only her thoughts. There was so much to do before Grandma's party. After Mrs. Knox's ironing was done there was hall and living room to clean, the cake to ice, and lunch to fix for Grandma and the baby. If only Ella May's time hadn't come early, she could have helped with the easy things. She'd been early with Carol, too, though, and they might …

Objective, E. Janet Rugg

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First Place, Essay Division, 1945 Butler Literary Contest

Have a purpose! Certainly if one is to get on in life with a degree of success, this seems a practical injunction. To know one's objective is prerequisite to worthwhile living, for the goal determines the course to be pursued, and the nature of the goal influences the method of pursuit.

The Translation Of Peter Polo, Mary Kershner

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Prize Story - Indianapolis Branch, League of American Pen Women Contest

In a way, the morning opened like any other morning. Peter wakened, scratched an ear, rubbed an eye, straightened out a leg that had been folded like a bent wing beneath him. The same stiffness all over his body, the same heaviness weighting down his eyes. The difference was that he had wakened earlier. He floated quietly on a wave with his face turned to the sky.

A Letter, Joe Berry

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This is part of 'a letter which Joe Berry wrote to his mother less than three weeks before his death.

The Silversmith, Joe Berry

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This selection is an excerpt from. "The Silversmith," winner of the 1942 League of American Pen Women Prize