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University of Oregon, Eugene, Oregon
Robert W. Lucas, editor Eldon Haberman, manager
Clair Johnson, managing editor
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Masters
Of Happy Living
IN scarcely more than a week’s time, several
hundreds of University of Oregon seniors will
receive their parchment diplomas, and go out into
a world that promises to reward them for the
four years they have spent in gaining a "higher
education.”
Among those hundreds are many who have
been disappointed, or will be disappointed, because
they have expected something from university that
was never pledged by those who founded it, or
because they have squandered their time without
a judicious weighing up of values received.
For the majority, however, the four years will
have been well spent. Those will be the students
who have recognized the truth of the statement of
Isaiah Bowman, president of John Hopkins uni
versity: “If you tell a scholar that mankind, for all
the scholar's searching, never arrives at the ulti
mate goal of dreams, he will tell you that there
are no ultimate goals, that the prize you seek is
in the seeking.”
Those will be the students who do not expect
a piece of parchment to be the “open sesame” to
success; who have lived a balanced college career,
sampling the scholarly, social, and sporting de
lights of four years of intimate association with
high types of young American manhood and
womanhood.
Those will be the students who have sought
broad horizons, who have refused to narrow their
interests down to one specialized branch of learn
ing; who have accepted as their motive for attend
ing university, the mastery of the fine art of
living hnppily.
To such students the University of Oregon does
yield up a harvest of inestimable value, in friend
ships, knowledge, an impartial eye, a greater
awareness and appreciation of the arts and
sciences, and memories that will live as long as
life.
Miscellanything
Being Stuff From Hpuli and Tlieah
We Will Try
Q1IE was frightened. As I watched her from my
^ place by the fire, I knew that she was fright
ened by the way she held her head. Her face was
white, and there was a look about it that X wish
I could forget. Tt was a look of rebellion anil of
disgust ttiat should not have been in the eyes of
such a young girl.
The room was filled with the quietness and the
strain of the silent, unsmiling upperclassmen. I
wanted to ciy out to her to be strong, but I
could not form the words. She waited. At last the
president addressed her in a cold monotonous
voice.
“Nicole, do you want to be initiated with the
rest of the freshmen next week ?”
I watched her look at the president with a
deep, searching look.
“Yes, i do,’ she said qfiietly.
“You realize, of course," the president con
tinued, "that throughout your term of pledging
you have not obeyed the freshman rules on this
campus or shown any love or respect for this
fraternity?”
Nicole opened her mouth to protest, but then,
biting her lips, she nodded her head briefly. Watch
ing her, 1 knew that she could not bear the strain
much longer. She would either break down like
a tired child and cry or give way to her violent
temper.
“How much does this fraternity mean to you,
Nicole?”
Every face in the room turned to the girl.
"It means a great deal to me,” she said in a
low voice.
“Does it mean enough to you to continue to be
a pledge for the rent of the year?” the president
asked in a voice without feeling.
“Yes, yes,” the girl said wildly and waited for
the answer.
"Then, that is your punishment, Nicole.”
I watched her walk from the room slowly, like
one in a daze. The door closed quietly behind her,
and she was gone. We all breathed a sigh of
relief and lit cigarettes to destroy the tension in
the room.
"I never dreamed that she would do it,” one of
the girls said in an awed voice.
“What happened to that fiery Nicole temper?”
asked a senior.
“I thought that she would tell us all to go to
hell and then pack up and go home,” another girl
laughed nervously.
But she didn t. She was swell, and we all
ought to be proud of her," the president said
solemnly. A murmur of approval went through
the still room.
I wanted to get up before them and spit in
their cold, smug faces, so full of self righteousness.
I wanted to speak for Nicole and tell them that
they were rotten, the whole damn bunch of them.
But instead, I inhaled my cigarette deeply and
held my tongue for Nicole's sake. It was her
problem, not mine, and why should I get mixed
up in the dirty mess?
That night I could not sleep. I kept thinking of
Nicole. The rain was blowing in my window, and
my blankets felt damp and uncomfortable. So I
got up and told myself that it was because of the
rain that I could not sleep.
T went to Nicole's room and listened outside
her door. I could hear her sobbing steadily. Bike
the fool that I am, I went blundering in to see her.
She raised up from the bed and looked at me
with surprise. We were not good friends. I had
never taken the trouble to understand Nicole.
Her face was red and blotched with tears,
and her eyes had a queer, dead look to them. I
managed a weak, "hello,” and grinned at her.
I must have looked foolish standing there. She
grinned back at me, and I sat down on the bed
beside her. I could not think of anything to say.
Nichole buried her face in the pillow. I think she
was ashamed of its redness.
I couldn't stand the silence any longer so I
blurted out,
"Nichole, is there anything that you would
like to do at the moment?”
"Yes,” she said, “I would like to walk in the
rain.”
“How long will it take you to get ready?” I
asked.
“You will go with me?” she said and started
to cry. I wished I had stayed in bed.
"Be reaily in ten minutes,” I said and left the
room.
Walking with Nicole in the night and having
the cold rain in your face was like sad music.
We got into a long smooth stride, and T forgot
about my legs moving- and thought only of the
night. We walked in silence for an hour and then
suddenly Nicole clutched my arm and said,
"What is it that is so wrong about me?”
“Nothing is wrong with you, you little fool,'’
I shouted through the rain.
"But there is, I know, and T want to kill it.”
I sighed. I had hoped she would not ask me
this* question.
"Nichole,” I said, “I am rotten at this sort of
thing, but I don’t think that you were ready to
be initiated.”
“I am tired of having to make people under
stand me,” the girl said miserably. "I do love and
respect our organization, but I cannot show my
emotions to other people.”
“I believe you, Nicole, but what about the
rules ?”
"I hate rules. I hate anything which binds me
and leaves me of my freedom,” she said with
bitterness.
What could I say? I felt that way too, but I
could not let her know. We were climbing to the
top of a hill, and the road was muddy and full
ol stones. We rested at the top in silence, looking
down at the town below. The rain had stopped and
the ail- was clean and sweet.
“Nichole,” l said quietly, "you must slop fight
ing against life. You can not win. Take your
punishment now and make the best of it, and
you will be liappy.’
Nicole looked at me and believed me.
"I will try," she said. "And I, too, will try,”
I whispered to myself.
Together we marked out which light must be
ours and then started back to the town. It was
morning. D. M.
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I
Letter From Dean Allen
Editor's note: Below follows the
first installment of a letter from
Erie YV. Allen, dean of the school
of journalism, who is traveling in
Germany. The letter was written
with particular regard to Dean Al
len’s position on the Oregon Plan
ning commission.
SOEST, Westphalia, Germany,
April 29. Zigzagging slowly
across France and Germany, wc
drove the day before yesterday
into the most charming little city
one ever dreampt about, a medie
val walled town straight out of
the pictures of Maxfield Parrish or
Howard Pyle, with all the added
charm of the Date Greenaway pas
torals of our childhood.
] It was Socst, of which we had
J never heard. Furthermore, it
j seemed to me the most practical
i and well-regulated city I had ever
entered. It shqne with fresh paint
and business prosperity, artistic
good taste and commercial enter
prise, and was spreading out be
yond the walls and old moat into
lovely new suburbs. Its population
is about that of Eugene.
I said to myself, this is no acci
dent. Brains and organizing abil
ity have been at work here. -Fe,
fo. fi, fum, I smell the results of
city and regional planning of the
most enlightened sort. I will find
out who put this thing through and
perhaps the folks back in Oregon
who believe progress should be
planned for and brought to pass
will.be interested in the stdry.
I drove up to the neatest little
hotel we have found in Europe (the
Overweg free ad) and arranged
to stay until I had found out. Ber
lin could wait.
If you think it is easy to run
down a news story when you can
hardly speak the language, you
Have another guess coming. Much
of the information I got at first
was inaccurate or aside from the
point, probably because my ques
tion:! were not understood or be
cause I did not understand' the an
swers. But at last I got to the
farm school outside the walls and;
found a Dr. Steinhauser, who could
talk as much English as I could t
feiMfl/SElSISISEISISElBISEISEElBISJcllSISJSil
German. He was a most delightful
gentleman who pulled down many
valuable books from the shelves of
the school library and proved to
me that the province of Westpha
lia (which included the Ruhr and
some of the most active and pro
gressive parts of Germany) had
long been working on a regional
plan of a very comprehensive sort.
If your board is interested in build
ing dp a planning library you can
get the key volumes from the pub
lisher, Verlag van Reimar Hob
bing, Berlin SW61. The survey,
analysis and plan is set forth in
three volumes dated 1931, 1932, and
1934 and entitled Die Raum West
falen.
But I was not so much interest
ed in the regional plan at the mo
ment as in finding the genius who
had been behind the city planning
of Soest and who had, more than
that, been instrumental in putting
the plan over and executing it until
it showed in bricks and mortar,
good health, happy living, finan
cial prosperity, and civic beauty.
Piofessor Steinhauser passed me
on to Dr. Schulte-Brauchs, the
principal of the modern language
high school for boys. (They have
also a Greek and Latin high school
for girls.) Dr. Schulte-Brauchs
spoke excellent English and we
struck up a real friendship. He
told me the story of the remark
able man who is principally re
sponsible for making the little city
of Soest a show place of which all
Germany is rightfully proud. He
was kind enough to arrange for an
interview for the following (this)
morning, and to serve as interpret
er.
In the meantime, we wandered
about the narrow and winding, but
excellently paved streets of the
spotless little city, and ate in the
ancient rathkellars and gast
hauses (correct) which are the
genuine originals of which half the
best eating places in Los Angeles
are inadequate imitations, sat in
the excellently planned little mov
ing picture house and saw some
charming German films, and then
iglgJSJSElSJHIEEJSEEMSIEiSISEIEJSISElSEi
S
KUYKENDALL DRUG CO.
870 Willamette
Graduation
Suggestions
i For fVlen and Women
[al New tilings in fine Fountain Fens and Matching Pencils by
Conklin, Parker, Waterman, and Sheaffer.
a
i
FOR MEN
Bill Folds, Key Cases. Gig
U'ette Cases. Coin Purses in
i wide variety of the finest
leathers and makers.
Yardley's Old English
Lavender Shaving- Set s
HoUhijjant's Fottgeri Royal •
Sets.
IVnandi Lilac ue France
Shaving Sets.
FOR WOMEN
New compacts by Yaidley.
$1.50 to $5.50.
Yardley Sets. 95c to $10.00.
Corday's Famous Per
fumes.
Goty's. Houbigant's, Har
riet Hubbard, Ajeir. and
Hudnut s Perfumes and Cos
metics.
\Y hitman’s F int Candies
Ai\vaj>* . ii An . ptable (.lift
- f ' .l' A - A. .A, Cj c_i i'
went to bed in our spacious rooms
at the hotel, our heads on German
bolsters and our bodies covered by
billowing German featherbeds un
til the cuckoo birds among the
plum blossoms just outside our
windows woke us for another day.
The man who made Soest what
it is today is not even a resident
of the town. He holds no office*
He wields no power. Yet he is
so loved and respected that his
word has the force of law, and no
man in Soest may even paint his
house unless Pastor Clarenbach
approves of the color. Much less
can he build, or tear down, or al
ter a building, or repaint an ad
vertising sign until he has ascer
tained that Pastor Clarenbach be
lieves that the projected change
will represent the true spirit of
Soest.
Pastor Clarenbach is a descen
dant of a line of Lutheran pastors.
We found him in his spacious flow
ers surrounded manse beside his
twelfth century church in the lit
tle village of Borgeln, several miles
from Soest. Before we left he
showed us with great pride
through the splendid little stone
house of worship that was cen
turies old when Columbus was
born. Not so long ago, in clean
ing the ceiling with characteristic
German cleanliness, they found
under the calk the beautiful fresco
paintings that had been put on
when the church was built, and
these ageold paintings, carefully
cleaned', now add to the beauty of
the structure as they did in Wil
liam the Conqueror’s day or there
abouts. There were panels in the
old woodwork fronting the rear
and side balconies. When the first
Borgeln boy died in the World war
the pastor spoke from the pulpit
and that week the village painter
painted the boy's name in one of
the panels. Week after week the
sad scene was repeated. In the
last week of the war the last name
was read out and that name filled
the only panel left, and then the
war stopped vyth no panel unfilled
and no Soest here without his
place in his ancestral church.
But Pastor Clarenbach plays a
bigger part in Westphalia than
that of country clergyman of Bor
geln. He also holds the office of
superintendent for the entire dis
trict in the Lutheran church, and
is the man behind the throne in
the far larger city of Soest where
he cannot even vote.
(Concluded tomorrow)
Subscription rates $2.50 a year.
MILLINERY
CLEARANCE
This is the opportunity of
the season to provide that
extra hat of crisp straw or
fabric for your vacation. At
a real price reduction.
Hats $5.00 to $10.00
i/2 Price
Values to $3.95 Now $1.95
Values to $2.50 Nov/ $1.00
White Hats
$1.95 - $2.95 - $3.95
E. HEIDEL -Hats
1007 Willamette Street
Portland Marriage
Miss Jacquetta Rose Madden and
Robert W. Kern, a graduate from
Oregon in 1932, were married in
Portland on May 10. Mrs. Kern is
an alumna of Reed college. The
couple will live in Portland.
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If You Would, When
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We believe that we do
Is li a v e ample, generous
stocks of tlto.se worth
while, appealing, novel
g tilings so very inexpen
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HANDKERCHIEFS
GLOVES
FLOWERS
LINGERIE
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HANDBAGS
| COSTUME JEWELRY
NECKWEAR
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And To
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^Jfere j the favorite
s WITH THE MEN
\ WHO MAKE THEM
They tel! us at the
factory that more men
in their offices are wearing
this moccasin type vamp than
any otner one style, and we
can understand the reason for
it. It’s an unusually comfortable
shoe and a good looker, too. Of
$£00
Mitt'seoo
course, the value goes without
saying for it’s a product of the
Star Brand Shoemakers....
Why not try a pair yourself?
GILBERT SHOE CO.
JUDGE, SOME OF THE PIPES HEY, NOT SO U
IN YOUR COLLECTION ARE AS 14 FAST ON THAT
BEAUTIFUL AS YOUR DAUGHTER- qLD BRIAR
BUT AFTER LOOKING .THEM OVER, A?} SON
I'LL STICK TO MY'
i -O l I V—/ IVI \ 1
GOOD OLD BRIAR I
I Am
-y- ip
HE STARTED MANUFACTURING! LIKE PRINCE
THEM AND introduced rj—. ALBERT - A
THE BRIAR TO THE WORLD.W MODERN SMOKE TO
rTSREALLV A MODERN SUIT MODERN TASTES
PlPE ' T~~TT^T'I t .(BAAMD MOOcRN
POCKET
BOOKS, EH
JUDGE?
© 1936. R. J. Reynolds Tob. Co.
IN 1849, A YOUMS FRENCHMAN, MONSIEUR VASSAS,
^ DISCOVERED THE NATIVES OF THE PYRENEES
1 SMOKING PIPES OF BRUYcRE
. ROOT, OR TREE HEATH
R. S. V. P
We’re invitingyou to smoke
Prince Albert. If you don’t
say it’s smoking tobacco at
its best—we’ll accept yo ir
regrets, and your smokes
will be on us. But when you
learn how much cooler and
sweeter r. a. s "crimp cut tobacco is and that
Prince Albert doesn't bite the tongue — well, we
take the risk on regrets. Read our offer below.
pipefuls of fra
grant tobacco in
every 2-ounce tin
of Prijjce
NOW TRY THIS PRINCELY SMOKE AT OUR RISK
Smoke 20 fragrant pipefuls of Prince Albert. If you don't find it the mellow
est, tastiest pipe tobacco you ever smoked, return the pocket tin with the
rest of the tobacco in it to us at any time within a month from this date, and
we will refund full purchase price, plus postage.
( Signed j R. J. REYNOLDS TOBACCO COMPANY
North Carolina
THE NATIONAL
JOY SMOKE