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About Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 17, 1942)
minim; !i«!!!:i!iiiii!HiHffl:jimiM!iiii;iii::;::.ii»!i!i::::.••-■ Dean of Music Shows up Jazz P\ Theodore Kratt, dean of the University of Oregon school of music, spoke Wednesday be fore the student body of Willam ette university at Salem. His topic was <i a. Practical Lesson in Music Appreciation.” ‘‘First 1. played themes from Various symphonies. Then I jazz ed them to show that when ac cents are misplaced, the themes do not have the lasting qualities of the originals,” remarked Dr. Kratt. D:', Kratt spoke at Willam ette university as part of a sur vey of the music school of the institution, which he conducted November 10 and 11. The sur vey is being performed for the commission on curricula for the National Association of Schools of Music. Male *Canteen *Lead Landed by ExDuck The bright-light mcguls of Hollywood spoke and Bill Thienes —screen name Bill Terry- -a for me' Oregon student, jumped from New York to the coast city where he began work on the short feature, “Private Smith. U.S.A." It is currently playing at the •Mayflower theater. As a result of his performance •in this, his first appearance be fore the cameras, he was tested ana selected to play the male lead in RKO's “Stage Door Can teen.” He is the father of a one year-old boy which explains his ■ civilian status. mmm Tr.is War Gives .... "MANILA CALLING" LLOYD NOLAN CAROL LANDIS Also RICHARD DIX —in— "TOMBSTONE" 1» r < jESjUl Whirlwind Romance! FREDERIC MARCH JOAN BENNETT '"TRADE WIND" Also "SUBMARINE RAIDER" JOHN HOWARD Margaret Chapman i An Authentic Film ! ! 'Moscow Strikes Back" ALLAN JONES JANE FRAZEE —in— ’Moonlight in Havana" I; MbL OPENS THURSDAY Other Guy’s Lives (Continued from page three) all right . . . You guys, even the crummiest of you, are all real lives ... It makes a guy feel kind of good hearin’ about them, I guess.” There was a moment of silence as Leisen finished. The Texas boy was deeply impressed, and he showed it. ‘‘Ah know licw you boys feel, just about exactly.” He paused and gulped. "Addin’ up every thing, even this layin' around, ah feels so cockeyed good about ev er-thing. The more ah think about it. the mere ah do.” "Me too, Tex,” Phil said eag erly, but sincerely. Vance joined in. "And let’s keep track of one another after this is over . . . ” The harmonica was on “St. Louis Blues,” and doing a fine job. "Yeah, it’s a funny world,” said Joe again, and with finality. So they sat, filled with com radeship, feeling like six Santa Clauses. It was a funny world, but a good one. Leisen, Alt, Joe, Phil, Vince, and Tex. . . . From the halls of Montezuma, to the shores of Tripoli. . . . OW quick a guy can jump from plain everyday talk to serious s,tuff, that makes you feel sick and good at the same time. Now, none cf them knew what to say. It was most embarrass ing. “Got the Saint Looey Blues, just as blue as I can be ... . Cause that gal of mine’s got a heart like a rock in the sea. . “Say, do you guys hear some thing?” Vince sat up. “What?” “I don’t know . . . listen!” The rest raised up and lived with their ears. “. . . l'eelin’ tomorrow like I feels today . . . . . . I’ll pack my bags and make . . . .” The harmonica stopped: shouts came from down the line. Leisen jumped up onto the sandbags. He looked down the beach and then up into the sky. He whistled. “They’re cornin’ the whole bunch of them. They're cornin' 1” It looked like there were a hundred of them, and still more coming. Officers were running, shout ing. Gun muzzles popped out of every place. Barebacked men with stew kettle helmets were moving like seventy-word-a-min ute typists: juggling shells, belts of bullets, boxes, all in the space of a finger snap. Officers sprint ed over the sand, barking, swear ing, then eyes and barrels turned skyward. The guns began jerking- two! two!— two!— two!— Flame, smoke; the ground jarring. All up and down the beach, guns coughed in a jumbled staccato; barrels recoiling like tappits on an off-time Chewy. The shells went up, tapering, like Roman candles. The planes came closer, still in formation. The first lot peeled off, started from a whine, to a howl, to a roar; right into the fireworks. One by one they zoomed down. Phil’s month twitched as he looked at the horror coming down on him. He got that thrilly feel ing in the back of his neck, like he got at a Dodger game once when Pee Wee Reese knocked a high fly into the stands and it lit light by him. “Look at ’em come," yowled Vince, "There’s a million of cm!" “I wonder if we’ve got any planes.” "If we have they sure aint’ around here.” Everything seemed on fire, even the sky itself. The planes pulled out of their dives and then followed the leader down along the beach, ripping thp whole works to pieces . . . The bombs, the stink, the bullet shine .... Art Reese looked at Leisen. what do they expect us to do? “'Keep firin’ this gun.” ‘‘But it doesn’t do any . . .” A bomb blasted behind them. Sand stung like a flock of lice bites. Vince helped Joe up; both of them were bleeding. Leisen no ticed the brawny boy from Texas halfway in the sand. Art Reese was gone. ‘‘What'll we do, Leisen?” Vince wasn’t as dazed as Joe, who stood shaking his head like a fighter who has taken a chop on the button. ‘‘Start snootin’ this gun again. There’s still plenty of targets!” Leisen’s face was hard and cruel. "OK, Leisen," said Vince, "OK.” The roar was terrific now. The planes waggled above; relentless, inhuman. More machine guns and sand geysers. Vince Quentin slid into a knee chest position. Joe wheeled and flopped into a wall of sandbags. Corporal Leisen felt a pain in his side. He hung onto the gun. He felt like coughing. r Pretty soon, the smoke would cover everything. His side felt as though it were gripped hy a steel hand. Sand was running out of a bullet hole into a conical lit tle dune cn Joe’s back. Leisen thought of his wife making three minute eggs. He couldn’t look at the boys. . . . This had happened so quick ... he hadn’t caught up with himself yet. His mind was as good as gone. He stumbled back toward the trees, holding his side. The smoke was dense, and flame streaked. * * * ryvHEY swarmed off flat boats, scurried bandy - legged through the surf, and' up the beach; trotting blandly, not car ing where they stepped. They didn’t know how Phil used to put on the feed bag at Casey’s joint with the horse shoe crab specials; or about Tex and his little brunette; or about Vince pulling the strings with fifteen girls and some fickle wife; or about Joe and the girl from Hackensack; or those good feel ings that flew away when their bodies cracked open. Hike all enemies, they didn’t know about other guys. Small Talk ____ r (Continued from page tivo) local student body hit on the same idea for a cute house dance costume—on accounta because there were certainly a great many couples who showed up last weekend with the guy decked out in a natty yachting suit and with the gal sporting a dainty “Junior Miss’’ outfit. Goodnight World . . . Outstanding Selections for Service Men or Folks at Home! Fountain Pen and Pen cils, Rings, Compacts, Bracelets, Locket Sets, and many other Yuletide Gifts! fJiristoMfe YOUR JEWELER 620 Willamette Lost Something,Huh? WELL, MEET THE CAMPUS SLEUTH Sherlock Holmes would be aghast at the quick re sults that Emerald classified ad brings. Through its 3400 readers the Emerald is the quick est and surest mediu mfor reaching the entire Oregon student body and faculty. Utilize its classified columns tor finding your lost article. Only 2c a Word Oregon II Emerali Phone 3300 Local 354