Oregon
T :e O'-egon Ifadv Emerald. published daily during the college year except Sunday?.
Murid. holiday.-, and final examination period? by the Associated Students University
of Oregon. Subscription rate- $1.25 per term and $.'.00 per year. Enteied a? second
{Jbss matter at the postoffice, Eugene. Oregon.
Represented far national advertising by NATIONAL AD\ ERTISING SER\ ICE,
«WC.. college publishers’ representative, 420 Madiscn Ave., New \ork—Chicago— Bos
^ni—L is Angeles—San Francisco—Portland and Seattle.
• VI EM NELSON Editor JAMES W. FROST, Business Manager
«,YLE M. *L^SS0CI.VrE EDITORS: Hal Olney, Helen Angell
Editorial Board: Roy Vernstrom, Pat Erickson, Helen Angell, Harold Olney, Kent
jgtiUer. Tunmie Leonard, and Professor Ceorge Turnbnll, adviser.
iTr
jmle Leonard, Managing Editor
:nt Stitzer, News Editor
Fred May. Advertising Manager
Bob Rogers, National Advertising Mgr.
Editorial arid Bushtess Offices located on ground floor of Journalism building. Phone*
dlSOO Extension: 383 Editor; 353 Mews Office; 359 Sports Office; and business
Offices.
UPPER BUSTNESS STAFF
Anita Kickberg, Ciassinecl Advertising
Manager
#on Al{>augh, Layout Production Man
ager
iUU I CIC1 I..UUUIUIUII
Mary Ellen Smith, Promotiion Director
Eileen Millard. Office Manager
Bat Erickson, Women’*
Editor
•Bob Flavelle, Co-SporU
Editor
Ken Cln istianson, Co-SporU
Editor
UPPER NEWS STAFF
Ray Sclirick, Ass’t Mariag
trig Editor
Betty Jane Biggs, Ass’t
News Editor
Wes Sullivan, Ass’t News
Editor
Corrine Wignes, Executive
Secretary
Mildred Wilson, Exchange
Editor
The Whisker Revolution
JjjT must be wonderful to be a sophomore.
That probably is what the rest of the eampus men have
4een thinking the past two weeks as they stood before their
bathroom mirror, razor in hand, preparing to erase a few
gristles from their face.
It must be wonderful because no mail likes to shave.
It was quite a surprise, therefore, when eampus readers
*aw the story about a threatened revolution among the sopho
fnr.i'is who, after reading of the famous hreneh revolution,
decided that now was the time to overthrow the Bluebeards of
|he eampus.
Such a move was truly revolutionary. The news was rumored
4U ouud the eampus and quickly, via the backyard fence method,
circulated around the world. Here in Eugene, Oregon in the
yo:ir 1941 A.lb a revolution that might change the established
«( eial order of sophomores all over the world was brewing.
m * *
^TPIIE status quo saw the movement as a threat to their posi
tion and quickly took stops to quell any attempt at uprising,
fbl philosophers—there are many around the University—
forecast a change as far reaching as the time that women
decided to bob their hair. The general public, thoroughly
aroused, agreed that “Something must be done.”
Fortunately something was done. The offenders were cap
tured after a long and bitter fight. They were put before a
public jury, sentenced and dragged away to pay the extreme
penalty—a dunking in a modified horse trough.
Once again peace reigned on the University eampus and the
’loyal sophomores brought in Russ Morgan—he of the music
.fame—to help them celebrate their victory.
Laugh Not at Your Eyes
t'YElvYBODY expects to get them. Everybody’s roommates
laugh uproariously when the first spots break out. The
■infirmary makes up another bed. The drug store sells another
^air of dark glasses. And the hospital staff adds another name
•to th • toll of the 1941 measles epidemic.
Already more than 2oU measles coses have been treated
during 1941, according to Dr. Fred Miller who directs the
•University health service. That’s a record of a sort for the
■University of Oregon
The Eugene epidemic is moving along with the nation-wide
spread of the disease, which at the present time is a little less
Hkan the all-time high reached in 1938. Time magazine last
week prophesied that it might become the worst in American
♦History.
*> *
^0 far the campus has heard of no serious repercussions or
after-effects .of.the disease which so often occur in measles
eases. Undoubtedly, however, there have been many pairs of
Undergraduate eyes weakened when they neglected to go to the
it! firmary soon enough dr began studying too soon after
release.
The battle is not yet won, this fight to keep the measles
epidemic from easing devastating effects to those who get the
tsual •‘bumps” behind the ears, sore throat, and pained eyes.
Success lies with students, and with their realization of how
•serious the after-effects can be if care is not taken. Precau
tions against eye strain, catching cold, and other suggestions
cd th' infirmarv staff should not be taken lightly.
Laugh at the little red spots, but don’t laugh about your
e. C'v They are your most priceless possession.—11.A.
Sophomore- Ralph Fuhnnan and Don Kirseh can thank their
e viable trip to Hawaii for more than lei- and silly hats. They
didn’t have to grow beards,
Little Didlington Is Mad
^ sketch ealled “War Comes to Little Didlington” came
out recently in The National Review, a London-published
magazine.
The pattern of life at the village of Little Didlington is
basically the same as it was before the war. But superimposed
on it is the burden of air raid attacks and the constant threat
of complete annihilation. The good people of Little Didlington
retire into their shelters when the air raid alarm barks, and
come out, when the all-clear is sounded, to view the fresh
destruction. They shake their fists and look, not to heaven or
inspirational literature, but for shovels and picks to clear
away debris. They are mad, not patriotic, not consciously
sacrificing themselves for an abstraction known as democracy.
They are hopping, fighting mad.
*= *=
rJ''IIE reactions of the people of Little Didlington seem ap
plicable in contrast to our own state of worry and con
fusion.
One has heard so much talk of democracy this.year, and of
patriotism. There have been some who bemoan our lack of
“faith.” Yesterday an Emerald columnist inferred that the
whole fight is only about “words, words, words.”
Patriotism and nationalism (democracy in our case) are
moods. They have not always prevailed; in point of history
they are, particularly in combination, recent. Now a mood,
especially when it grips a large number of the earth’s people
simultaneously, can scarcely be shrugged off and vaguely
classified as “words, words, words.” Whether these moods, in
conflict with other moods of our day, should be allowed to
waste human life and destroy human happiness is another
question.
* # #
J^NTER the people of Little Didlington. The struggle to
them is a bomb tearing down a building they loved, a
tangible thing requiring energy to restore. They can get mad
about it and go out and do something.
The people of Little Didlington are working with shovels
and guns. We are working with a mood. We don’t know what
to do when it is threatened. You can’t use a shovel on a thing
like a smashed ideal.—P.E.
This Collegiate World
Coco-Colas waged an all-out campaign for some of America’s
collegians the other night. It was in the SAE house at Emory
university. A new dispensing machine (an automatic vendor
that mixes cokes while you watch) paid off exactly 167 drinks
for a mere dime.
E. B. Estes ’41 inserted a nickel in the slot. Silence followed.
Disturbed, he rammed another into the machine. A grinding
noise was heard, then came the “coke.’’
As lie picked up the cup, Estes was startled by the ejection
of another Coca-Cola. Then came another and still another.
Estes shouted for help.
SAE’s swarmed in and gulped the “cokes” while the ma
chine ground relentlessly. An SOS was sent to Phi Delta Thetas
and KAs. At the end of a half hour, the crowd, now numbering
45, was rapidly becoming Coca-Cola logged but the machine
evidenced no signs of weakening.
When the 167th coke was delivered, everybody quit and the
electricity supply of the unit was cut off.
From All Sides
Exchange by Mildred Wilson
Shakespeare in modern dress
was recently presented by the
University theater of Northwest
ern university. The characters of
"The Taming of the Shrew” were
introduced as twentieth century
young men and women with ad
vanced ideas.
Sixteenth century tailors,
grooms, and roisterers were all
transformed into modern equiva
lents. The campus and points of
interest in and about Evanston
provided the background.
All that was retained of the
original work of the bard were
the lines and situations.
—Daily Northwestern.
* $ *
Prof: Will you gentlemen in
the back of the room stop ex
changing notes?
Student: They aren’t notes, sir,
they're cards. We're playing
bridge.
Prof: Oh, I beg your pardon.
-—Oak Leaves, Manchester Col
lege.
* * *
James Bothwell of Missouri
just finished the most strenuous
year of his life trying to gradu
ate from Central college before
his 25th birthday in order to in
herit $35,000 from an uncle.
Bothwell was astonished to dis
cover in January 1940, that he
had to complete 45 hours of col
lege work in order to obtain the
money.
And there was no loafing on
the job with each three-hour
course being worth more than
$2300.
—Daily Trojan
* * *
You could probably say this
was also applicable to the Ore
gon campus—although it was
written by Gemmell Kahn, poet
laureate of Linfield college, for
their May queen:
Four lines we must write for the
queen,
And her recent ascent to the
throne—
Four lines that must never be
seen—
She has excellent lines of her
own.
—Linfield Review.
In Time
With the
Tunes
By RUBY JACKSON
“To make people like music,
give it to them. Records are the
best way. Make the mtry every
thing from Bach to boogie-woo
gie. That’s the only way they’ll
get to like it.” Such is the sound
advice of Alec Templeton, who
has spent a good many years giv
ing his audiences everything
“from Bach to boogie woogie,”
and making them like it.
“Yes,” Mr. Templeton contin
ued, "records are the best things
I know of to foster an interest
in music.” And that there should
be a convenient place for stu
dents to go and listen to these
records he was also agreed upon.
“A record collection in your new
student union building ? That
would, be just the thing,” he said ■
enthusiastically. “But be broad
minded when you’re making the
collection—be sure to include
something of everything.”
Frustration
Sometimes called the “suicide
symphony” because of its desper
ate melancholy, Tschaikovsky’s
“Pathetique” symphony is sym
bolic of all the unhappiness, frus
tration, and broken dreams that
man has known since time began.
That the pain of the music does
not exclude the beauty is an ad
mirable thing. Melodies that are
tragic, pathetic—sometimes con
soling—are woven into one of
the world’s loveliest, most popu
lar symphonies.
As a feature of his last con
cert, Toscanini will conduct a
performance of the “Pathetique”
on the NBC program Saturday
evening. (6:35-8 p.m.) For the
second major work on this all
Tschaikovsky program, Vladimir
Horowitz will be soloist for the
D sharp minor concerto for piano
and orchestra.
NELSON EDDY will be guest
artist on the Ford Sunday eve
ning hour.* (6 p.m., CBS.)
REMEMBER: Brahm’s 4th
symphony will be presented on
the New York Philharmonic broad
cast Sunday. (CBS, 12-1:30 p.m.)
On the same program: Symphony
Espagnole by Lalo, with Nathan
Milstein as violin soloist, and the
initial performance of A. Benja
min’s “Overture to an Italian
Comedy.”
Oregon Emerald
Friday Advertising Staff:
Marilyn Marshall, acting mgr.
Betty Lou Allegre
Marilee Margason
Marilyn Miller
Norma Baker
Night Staff:
Fred Timmen, night editor
Ruth Jordan, assistant
Marilee Margason
Barbara Lamb
Yvonne Torgler
Fred Treadgold
Bob Frazier
Tommy Mayes
Wally Hunter
Bill Murray
Copy Desk Staff:
Wes Sullivan, city editor
Elsie Brownell, assistant
Joanne Nichols
Herb Penny
Don Fvoss
Veva Peterson
Doris Jones
Bill Hilton
Bob Frazier
United States naval academy’s
regiment of midshipmen, num
bering 2,601, is the largest since
World war days.