Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 21, 1942)
Oregon Wi Emerald Published daily during the college year except Sundays, Mondays, holidays and final examination periods by the Associated Students, University of Oregon. Entered as second-class matter at the postoffice, Eugene. Oregon. RAY SCHRICK, Editor; BETTY BIGGS SCHRICK, Business Mgr. G. Duncan Wimpress, Managing Editor Jack L. Billings, News Editor John Mathews, Associate Editor ^lapA, an the cMill . . . J^TGHT is coming. As the sun slowly sinks behind the haze-shrouded hills in the distance, a soft evening breeze rustles through the silken folds of the flag as it hangs limply from the peak of the long, white pole. Suddenly the hushed silence is broken . . . the unforgettable sound of “Taps” knifes thinly through the crisp twilight air. A group of boys, University students, stand silently at attention be neath the flagpole until the last faint note has faded away to join a far-distant train whistle. The group relaxes, yet somehow something lingers . . . something in the heart of each one of these boys . . . the knowledge that some day he may be the one for whom the bugle cries . . . and that something makes them feel older, somehow; older and a little more able to face the stern task ahead. * * * 'JpHIS is the scene which takes place each evening after dinner in front of the Theta Chi house high atop the hill to [the south of the campus. And the taps are being played for Len Ballif. Len would have graduated this year had he chosen to stay in school, but he joined the Air Corps instead . . . lie thought he could do more that way. Len was killed last winter when his plane crashed in the Mojave desert. He would have received his wings in another week. The pole was presented to the Theta Chis by Mr. and Mrs. Ballif, Leu's folks, and the flag is the one which cov ered his coffin. * * * r£HIK Theta Chis will continue to meet each night for their salute until the war is ended . . . and while the “Taps” are primarily being played for Len Ballif, they are meant for every man, no matter what house or what school, but for every man who has given his life to preserve our right to attend school and to have fraternities. They say- it’s an impossible thing to “start” a tradition . . . but regardless of how it must be worded, we hope the Theta Chis will continue their grand custom and somehow it seems as if Len Ballif, wherever he is, can hear those “Taps” . . . can hear them and is grateful.—G.D.W. ^Uele JUbesud Anti . <t\X7'UA'l' you takin’, math?” one cord-clad “ YY another. • • vouth asked . “Sure, isn't everybody?” came the reply. He might have added, "Everybody's taking science, phys ical education, and military, too.” Of course, that would have been too all-inclusive. But the overstatement could be justi fied on the grounds that everyone in the American college to day is definitely war-conscious. Alt men are preparing for a branch of the armed forces, or for some essential civilian service; the women, losing fathers, brothers, and sweethearts to the service, are also trying to act constructively in the war effort. This year finds all schools stressing mathematics, science, military subjects, body-building-, and service work, as is necessary and right. * * * OR years, totalitarian nations have concentrated on devel oping the military and technical fields, building up great machines for aggression. Phis forces our present line of ac tion. All elements of our society, including the schools, must work to develop and sustain the soldier and technician. But no one can afford to suggest that in doing this we adopt technical training exclusively and cut out the liberal arts which develop leaders for both war and peace. * * * liberal arts schools have developed a ^reat portion oL today's war leaders. Through the study of the arts, the world has retained and re-discovered the accumulated know l edge and experience of ages. Such knowledge is essential for clear thinking. A blackout of the study of historv. social sci ences, languages, literature, and arts would rob the country of intelligent leadership in both war and peace. Students and educators must consider the entire field of liberal arts, select carefully those subjects of the greatest value, and fit them into the busy schedule of technical studies. This alone will insure the survival of the institutions which produced the officer material for the war, and which will give us leadership for the peace. Liberal arts must not be eclipsed.—J.AAY. Between The Lines By BOY NELSON A DEFORMED CHARACTER with sagging shoulders and a concave chest explained how a campus custom put him in 4F. He pointed to a rubber band fas tened from the top button of his pants to a lower button his shirt. “See this rubber band?” he coughed. “I saw a Phi Delt wear ing one my freshman year, and I took it up. Gradually I got worse. I started doubling it for strength, and then cutting up strips of in ner tubes. After over three years, the constant pull drew down my shoulders, and left me a total wreck.” We choked back a sob and watched him swing more violent ly on his key-chain as he con tinued. “And now that the rubber shortage has hit us, things have become acute. I gotta have rub ber band's. I even find myself cashing in my defense stamps for money so I can purchase bootleg bands. “I’ve even sown a button on my T-shirt so I can be a boomer boy at all times. I never go swim ming because I’ve found no way of fastening the top of my rub ber band in such a situation. We shook hands, and I thought I saw him stroke his lower lip as he turned and stumbled wayward. SERVICE AT THE SIDE is so poor, reports one intemperate soul, that he got a hangover be tween beers night before last . . . “Military is my major, and Sampson is my colonel,” dis closes another University stu dent . . . And along the same lines, the ROTC department is clamping down this year and in sisting on tan or brown sox with uniforms. The basic student looks like a female hitch-hiker as he pulls up his pant leg so his commanding officer can see his colors . . . One private had no sox on at all which made the de cision difficult for his superior. “But I would have put on brown sox if I had worn a pair,” he ex plained to the officer, but the lat ter went ahead and gave him a demerit anyway. Sign Painter Clell Crane dis played a work of art yesterday which drew praise from onlook ers. “Aw—I just knocked it out between classes,” was his come back - “between” night classes and morning classes” . . . Another artist is Bob Bacon, who belongs to a tantalizing 29-cent pipe, which, though always in his mouth, has never been broken in. Says Brother Bacon: “I like my pipe, but oh you smoke!” At 2:30 last night Highland house had a fire drill. Alyce Pep ion thought the bell was a series of alarms, and while the rest of the girls filed off the sleeping porch, she proceeded to make her bed, yawned, and headed down stairs for breakfast. BULLETIN! Les Anderson is Oregon's student body president and Wes Sullivan is editor of the yearbook. Old stuff, you say? On the contrary—up until now, the University has been without per sonalities in these offices this fall. Officially they are just tak ing over. An executive ruling stated that anyone taking fewer than 12 hours could not hold stu dent offices. Both these gentle men are taking fewer than 12 hours. The law was just amended this week—We interrupt this bul letin to bring you a special bul letin: The “new student body presi dent,” Les Anderson, has planted his pin. It's Theta Terry Watson. Paging Joe Miller. DANG these chains! Mil&ied WiLan 'Spy*. . . Katherine Kressman Taylor ,> It took a little time to know Katherine Kressman, ’24. Pale, slow-moving, with a sweet face and understanding manner she could often be found around the Emerald shack writing a story—• or just talking to someone. Those who talked to Miss Kressman found that underneath her placid exterior was an alert and' eager mind. In Pot and Quill, the creative writing honorary of which she was a member, fellow writers noted in this young wom an an unusual clarity and fresh ness of style. She was a charter member of Phi Mu Epsilon. Oth er than that she made no partic ular impression on the campus. The first really startling thing to occur came in 1936 when she won a Plymouth sedan in a na tional radio contest. At this time she was married to Ellit Taylor, lived in Leaburg and was the mother of three children. The second startling thing happened in 1939 when her story “Address Unknown” was pub lished in Story. It was an over g'liEiiiimiiiiimimimiiimmiimiiiinmmiimiiinMimimniiiimmuimimi'mmi.'imumi night triumph. Copies of Story | were soon cleared from news stands all over the country. The Readers Digest reprinted the ( story which was declared to be . one of the best of recent years, i Soon “Address Unknown’’ ap peared in book form for those 1 who wished the poignant story of a German under Hitler and his ! Jewish friend who had moved to j America, to become a permanent part of their library. Katlirine Kressman Taylor, now an established writer, has just published another book, “Until That Day,” telling a storv-of Nazi persecution. The Satin" h Review of Literature describes it as a "simply and movingly told story. It conveys hope and con fidence.” Part of this hope and confi dence was voiced in the book through these words, “The fight is just beginning. I who have been there know that the battle is not lost. I who have fought without weapons know the sure ness of final victory.” ....a mi'jiiiiiiiiittiiiiiiiiiiiiniiiiiiiiiiiii fynee jjoJt All, . . f Dear Sirs: The recent scrap drive was certainly a fine thing, but the character-—or group of characters—that had the brai”^ storm to make scrap of a car that was only temporarily Out of order was most certainly off the boat. I am speaking of the tragic end of “Battling Bertha,” 1929 Ma*i. . . In Europe . . . Od. Jlaual By DON TREADGOLD While Chief of Government Pi erre Laval shivers in Vichy at the prospect of Allied invasion, unconfirmed reports tell of an Allied expedition off Dakar. Probably no one in the world is so alone as Pierre Laval. When the Nazi scum are brought to trial, they will at least be com pany for each other in their mis ery; if Germany won, they would share the spoils. Whoever wins, Laval is the loser. Though he has pinned his faith in the victory of Hitler, he can hope f©.*~ little bet ter treatment from the Nazis than from the Allies. Two Balls in Air He has to keep two balls in the air ata the same time. He must explain to Hitler why he has not been able to extort more French labor and munitions for Germany, then must keep the French people quiet somehow un der ever-increasing German de mands on Vichy. The Nazis and the French hate and despise him equally. It is with this jackal, ruler of France under the shadow of Adolf Hitler, that the United States maintains rolations. If the Allies attack Dakar again, they will be aided by the blood of the Fighting French of General deGaulle. Yet when the attack is over, success ful or not, our state department will keep up the ghastly fiction of recognizing Vichy as the legal French government. Fighting French Thousands of French lives, French ships. French arms, are in our struggle under the Fight ing French banner. Nazi watches on the coast of Normandy cannot keep young Frenchmen from con tinuing to escape to join de Gaulle. What is the reward of this noble movement ? It remains the stepchild of the Allies. Night after night the British radio broadcasts to the continent, -A ) Essex and property ot Tommy Roblin and Frank Calise. It waa temporarily out of order because of a bad clutch, but could have been repaired without much ex pense and effort . . . and that is what they had planned on doing'. Too Late All thoughts of having the car fixed are shattered now, though. Someone stole the machine early Saturday morning, and when the police found it several hours lat er at Thirteenth and Pearl, it was a complete wreck. A mighty good job of sabotage. The “saboteurs” broke all win dows, lights, and other breakable parts. They stripped the mach| of all part3 they could remc including two good wheel jacks. True, this was an old car and the owners didn’t give a great deal for it, but it would have been a serviceable jalopy if the clutch had been repaired—but no more. If you want to see the remains of “Battling Bertha,” look behind the Pi Kap house, and you will see a sorry sight. I wonder if anyone was so hard up for scrap that they had to create it. Sincerely, —Bill Stratton. exhorting lovers of freedom to band together, to await their hour of action. What happens to the free men of France who obey this challenge ? No Recognition g They are denied recogniti<^ They are given a chance to fight, but cannot ask to be treated as equals. Along with the Chinese, who are apparently good enough, to give blood but not good enough to sit on supreme war councils, they can only hope for fairer treatment. The exiled Yugoslavs, Greeks, Dutch, Czechoslovaks are ac cepted as full-fledged allies. Though a Norwegian, Vidkun Quisling, sits in Oslo as Norway's ruler, it is King Haakon’s gov ernment in London which the Al lies acknowledge as the true Nor way. Why the knave Laval called France, while the Fightii French remain neither fish nor fowl in the Allied eyes, is a mys tery which does no honor to the United Nations.