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.