Oregon W Emerald
The Oregon Daily Emerald, published daily during the college year except Sundays,
Mondays, holidays, and final examination periods by the Associated Students, University
of Oregon. Subscription rates: $1.25 per term and $3.00 per year. Entered as second
class matter at the postoffice, Eugene, Oregon.
HELEN ANGELL. Editor FRED O. MAY, Business Manager
fcssociate Editor.', Fritz Timmen
Ray Schrick, Managing Editor Betty Jane Biggs, Advertising Manager
Jack Billings, News Editor Elizabeth Edmunds, National Advertising Manager
Editorial board: Buck Buchwach, Chuck Boice, Betty'Jane Biggs, Ray Schrick; Pro
fessor George Turnbull, adviser.
UPPER BUSINESS STAFF
FTelen Rayburn, Layout Manager Jim Thayer, Promotion Manager
Helen Flynn, Office Manager Lois Clause, Circulation Manager
Connie Fullmer, Classified Manager
PoiltlocdLf Spoahintf, . . .
£JNE of the funniest—and most surprising—things that
has happened to Oregon’s bloc polities in years took
place Sunday night. For once in their lives, the “big guns”
in Greek circles were told whom they could run for the ASFO
vice-presidency. And that person wasn’t the candidate they
had planned to name for the office. It upset the whole gravy
boat. But the idealism couldn’t last.
The scene was the coed gravy session, where Jack Lan
sing was delegated to explain the bloc’s views on what can
didates should get the top feminine positions on the ASUO
slate. But somehow or another, Lansing’s gentle suggestions—
or later more forceful ones—didn’t fall on receptive ears. The
girls had their own “bloc within a bloc” and were determined
that their popular choice candidate should be the Greek nom
ination for the ASUO first vice-presidency come this morn
ing’s nominating assembly.
# #
rjpiIE nearly 50 coed politicos argued among themselves,
with, and against Lansing for a goodly four hours. There
were the usual feminine tears. There were beefs. There was
rounding up a missing delegate. This missing representative
had the opportunity to hold the whole political situation in
the palm of her hand when she finally arrived, but muffed
the chance.
When the smoke had all cleared away at a late hour, the
impossible had happened. The girls hadn't given in. The ma
jority candidate in the women’s meeting was sent to the men’s
bloc meeting a few minutes later . . . with no qualifications.
They could take her or else. A miracle had happened. For once
the “big guns” weren’t in the saddle.
But even miracles don’t last. Two sororities, pressed by
block demands, last* night switched their support of Sunday
night fo the minority candidate. The bloc grasped at the straw
. . . and added their political choice. So today, two girls instead
of one probably will be named on the Greek ticket for ASUO
vice-president. As happened in last year’s similar arrangement
in the race for the same position, one will win and another
will lose. The bloc knows which one will win.
Which all goes to show that girls could have some voice
in campus politics if they would stick together. As long as they
can’t they'll stay just where they are.
• •
9+t MuAic aA MujJit
J^TINO MARTINI, Italian, sink's tonight, lie will undoubt
edly draw a capacity house, this natty-dressing, golden
voiccd tenor. Wherever he has sung in this country since his
Metropolitan debut in 1933 he has been acclaimed by music
lovers, critics, and just plain listeners. There’s something
about a person from an alien county who can trample under
loot and climb over the feelings of national prejudice that
have arisen between 11is country and our own during the years
in which he has been singing his songs for all peoples.
And there’s something about the spirit of an American pub
lic that will crowd to concert halls, gymnasiums, opera houses
to spend their evenings listening to classical, operatic, and
popular music sung by one of the most handsome of America’s
singers. It’s not the love of music alone; it is something far
deeper—something in the makeup of Americans that makes
them in time of war go back to the grim business of making
this world a place where more people can sing and hear the
old songs sung again.
>* # #
TK AN army travels on its stomach, music is the medium that
keeps a soldier’s backbone stiff. Music brings men together,
it keeps them marching. Nations have fought, bled and died,
as well as lived, to the lilt of noble music. Music can keep up
civilian morale as well as soldier spirit. William Allen White,
eminent publicist and journalist, said recently in Etude, music
magazine, “The nation that can sing and make a joyful noise
before the Lord, has the spirit of victory in its heart.’’ Dr.
William Lyon Phelps, distinguished educator and author, be
lieves that “instead of neglecting or slighting pure music, we
should cultivate it more earnestly in the months that are to
come.
If it is at all possible everyone should lose himself once
in a while in the intangibles of life, forgetting the realities,
forgetting the routines of war effort and defense activities,
dropping back into the quieting, steadying beauty of one
of the ultiinates of life. Nino Martini, Italian, sings tonight.
—F.T.
Nothing
Sacred
By J. SPENCER MILLER
We was a ba-a-a-a-d boy . . .
Quotes on item No. 1 in Friday's
column,
Betty Kincaid, (a darn good
sport in taking our DIRTY crack
like she did) . . . Bob and I still
feel the same about each other,
but it’s a better arrangement
this way. Most people don’t un
derstand the pin-returning.”
Bob Koch, ‘‘We haven’t broken
up, but there is less pressure on
us this way.”
Bob went to the Beta-Kappa
dessert last Wednesday with
Jean Hoover. Could be the old
triangle again?
FROM THE NQTES OF AN
ITINERANT COLUMNIST . . .
Beta Dick Davis and Artabelle
Grover of the DeeGee clan have
been seeing lots of each other
and the prospects of a pin-plant
ing are mighty ripe—Tex (Ma
jor) Goodwin has been besieged
with offers to* appear as the
“Frozen Statue of Chemult.” Tex
spent eight hours there Sunday
night trying to flag a ride from
the THREE cars that passed
during that time—From our
agent X-4 we hear that Jackson
Lansing is going to write his the
sis on ‘‘How to Get a Date at the
Last Minute.” He went into re
search on Chapter I last weekend
—Now that spring football is in
full swing we can finally recog
nize the Steers twins apart. Hank
has a big gash down his nose and
Howard’s right cheek looks like
a piece of choice ham—There is
some very interesting gossip
making the rounds about Chi O
Pat Kaarboe. From what we hear
it’s a choice story. Follow the col
lumn for possible later develop
ments—Harry Thomsen, Burlin
game import, and Ann Lauzier,
USC’s gift to Webfootville, met
each other coming up on the train
for spring term, and they haven't
missed a weekeend yet—How
much am I offered to disclose the
sun-batliing spot of the Gamma
Phis?
A Love Note to Mr. Ted “Ham
for Breakfast” Hallock . . . Dear
Jerk, You are wrong once again.
From your column of last Satur
day—quote, “Benny Goodman is
awaiting the matrimony plunge.”
unquote . . . From the New York
(Please turn to page seven)
We aAe loieAanl
Would "Passive Resistance" Work
With the Storm Troopers?
... an Jleia Atyiel
By DON TREADGOLD
One more word about Lew Ayres. There is no question as
to what the people’s verdict it; it stands against him, and his
film career is ruined until such time as a revulsion of feeling
may again sweep us. Lew Ayres undoubtedly has the courage
of his convictions—but we may well question their wisdom
and consequences.
Says Lew Ayres: “So in my opinion we will never stop v^rs
until we individually cease fight
ing them and that’s what I pro
pose to do. I propose we proclaim
a moratorium on all presumed
debts of evil done us . . The
Oregonian makes this cynical
comment: “Sometimes the person
who plays a part feels bound to
live it. And we are a tolerant
nation with tolerant laws.”
Why Is He?
The conscientious objector of
ten feels persecuted by a world
wantonly brutal, reveling in war
as a vice it refuses to renounce.
As grounds for being allowed to
substitute ditchdigging for mili
tary service, he cites religious
conviction. This is almost an in
sult to the humanity and the be
liefs of millions of Christians who
have made a hard but inevitable
choice to fight this war until it
is won.
Do not tell us Christ abhorred
war; so do most of us. Do not tell
us Christ forbade war; He made
no direct statement, and the same
Christ who healed the sick drove
the money-changers from the
temple. Countless great clergy
men cannot condemn resort to
arms as an alternative to slavery
and barbarism.
Not Our Hope
We did not ask for war. We de
stroyed much of our armament,
signed peace pledges, and even
after we knew7 we could not avoid
it, wre shrank from the holocaust
—not from lack of courage, but
because we desired peace, as
much as Lew Ayres ever did.
If the “conchie” feels driven
by conscience to appeal to a len
ient nation for exemption from
being made to kill—who of us
finds it easy to shoot human be
ings ?—let him at least have his
eyes open. Again from the Ore
gonian: "The strength of arms
wrhich they protest . . . these are
their shield' and their buckler
(Please turn to page six)
*7lade Jlcuit
By MARY WOLF
Driver—President.
Motor—Student body.
Starter—Football team.
Clutch—Co-op.
Gas—Text books.
Spark Plug's—Yell leaders.
Distributor—Young Communist
league.
Squeaks—Exams.
Power—Senior class.
Steering Wheel—Faculty.
Radio—Juke box.
Horn—Camps gossip.
Windshield Wipers—Janitors.
Spare Tire—Library.
Heater—Band.
Headlights—Student body offi
cers.
Bumper—Freshmen.
Exhaust—Daily Bruin.
•—Daily Bruin.
* * *
If you flatter a man, it fright
ens him to death,
If you don’t, he thinks you are
a dope.
If you let him make love to
you, he gets tired of you in the
end.
If you don’t, he gets tired of
you in the beginning.
If you wear barn paint, he
thinks you arc repulsive,
If you don't he thinks you are
spook.
If you wear an extreme hat, he
thinks you should be more con
servative,
If you don’t, he stares all night
at a girl who does and the next
day calls her for a date.
If you fall for his line, he
thinks you are a cinch,
If you don’t and recognize it
as a line, he is mad because he
has found someone smarter than
he is.
If, ah, well, what’s the use!
— Barometer.
* * *
Friends—Persons who stick to
gether until debt do them part.
Flaming youth—Gradually be
comes a burnt out cinder.
Thumb—the modern means of
transportation.
Fleas—Insects that have gone
to the dogs.
—Idaho Argonaut.
* * *
Bill: You'll have to hand it to
Venus de Milo when it comes to
eating.
Bob: Why?
Bill: How else could she eat?
—Idaho Argonaut.
/JcMft jpsi
Qn&cJdalt
By TED IIALLOCK
The guy was new on the job. He
must have been. He let through
thirteen successive frames which
showed Woody’s left hand play
ing the "Horse and Wagon Ga
votte” as big music for Gloria
Jean or some one. All of which
refers to the monumental, stu
pendous, sensational epic of swing
in the raw featuring America’s
greatest dance orchestra, the
band that plays the blues, Woody
Herman. It’s really marvelous,
too. Herman is in for at least
thirty-seven seconds during the
credits. Then Butterworth is very
funny for two hours and then
Herman is in again, this time for
as long as a minute at a time and
you really don’t mind the angle
shots through the outhouse door
at all. After all, Hollywood is do
ing its bit to popularize musis*.
Money isn’t everything. The name
of the ordeal is "What’s Cookin’,”
it’s Universal's fault.
rvoi so uooa
Kenton’s newest waxes are not
bad. Not comparable to the stuff
across a stand with seven brass
waving your hair like a Marine
poster. “Concerto for Doghouse”
with Decca treatment lacks the
acoustical guts that the MacGreg
or transcriptions had. Stan’s got
a twelve inch platter on “St.
Louis Blues” coming too. I:’s the
same arrangement he used here
which is reet. _pr
Interesting thing about all the
e.t.'s you hear of Stan over the
local station. Seems they were
made and distributed to Mutual
affiliates, as with KORN, because
Stan’s stuff from Balboa was
with Mutual. They are all on six
teen-inch platters, which hold an
entire fifteeen minute show, and
are made just as a radio show
would be taken off of the net, re
plete with announcer coming in
between tunes for a short blurb.
So the kick lies wherein wise
ackers make with the inside info
that all cuttings were Rendez
vous takings. But such is not so.
Father Hallock, knowing Chet
Blomsness, CBS and MacGregrSF
engineer digs this. Chester says
the Kenton crew was invited to
Mac’s eight by ten studios which
have second to Columbia a most
tremendous echo Jack, and were
asked to invite all friends and
song pluggers available. So this
they do and that’s how the crowd
effect was obtained.
They All Play
An interesting note also on
those records which padded JFB
admirably this day, is the note
that the announcer who handles
the mid tune fill ins, never saw
a musician who couldn’t play
cello, until the age of 27. Having
been weaned on Hollywood bowl
stuff for years.
Continuing the listing of con
firmed or prospective benedicts,>
George Auld took unto himself a
wife. Ben Webster of Ellington
and tenoring to heaven on a go
cart fame also slipped, in Balti
(Please turn to page seven)