Oregon W Emerald
BAY SCHRICK, Editor; BETTY BIGGS SCHRICK, Business Mgr.
G. Duncan Wimpress, Managing Editor Jack L. Billings, News Editor
John J. Mathews, Associate Editor
Published daily during the college year except Sundays, Mondays, holidays and 6nal
examination periods by the Associated Students, University of Oregon.
Entered as second-class matter at the postoffice, Eugene, Oregon._
Represented for national advertising by NATIONAL ADVERTISING SERVICE,
INC., college publishers’ representative, 420 Madison Ave., New York—Chicago—Boston
—Los Angeles—San Francisco—Portland—Seattle. __
'*7key Alia Senae .
“It is easy to stand a pain, but difficult
to stand an itch; it is easy to bear the
bitter taste, but hard to bear the sour
taste.”
—Chang Ch’ao, Chinese Philosopher.
'T'HIS statement from the 17th century bears 20th century
markings if compared to thoughts of University men in
wartime.
Military service is a “pain” which men can bear well now.
They know “war is hell”, not a picnic. They have been geared
to its horrors, would face its hells to get the job done.
Uncertainty of reserves and University education is the
“itch” that makes it hard to stand. War aid drives seem the
“sour taste” compared to the “bitter taste” of fighting service.
rJMIAT is why campus men feel depressed now and then as
they think of war. That is why they sometimes feel it is
better to enlist—right now. It is thought, that to stay here;
is nothing compared to what we might do fighting, that our
drives for cigarettes, scrap, and a service scholarship fund are
little gifts—compared to giving a life.
Actually it is the minor discomforts we “endure” that
make it easier for those in service. Our cigarettes, magazines,
candy bjirs, scrap donations ease life—a little—for those in
actual battle. Our training today is means to an end; To pro
vide highly trained and efficient officers as they are needed
to fill the gaps which come from death in conflict.
JT MAY lie hard to stay On campus in war when the low
feelings come, hard to see what help we give by campus
drives. The “pain” and “sour taste” of those at the front,
however, is eased by knowledge that those at home stand
solid behind their forces. Until we serve best where we are
best able to serve at the moment, until we give our all—even
if it means giving magazines, cigarettes, scrap—until then,
there can he no final and no complete road iO victory.
• • •
Ibemacbacif in Action
'J'HE bugaboo of class cards with voting privileges is a
story of tlie past. Freshman class problems of finance
were solved by seniors Thursday night when members voted
$600 for a revolving fund.
Two hundred dollars goes to the present freshmen, class
of ’46, another $200 to the class of ’47, the final $200 to the
class of ’48. Each group uses initial “capital” for three vears,
builds it up through class dances and other activity. The $200
revolves to a new incoming class after Junior Weekend, after
three years of service.
* * =h
X)RKSIDKNT Ray Packouz, senior president, and his class
members recognized the problems, gave $600 of their $900
treasury for this finance solution. While southern congress
men filibuster to prevent removal of a poll tax, Oregon class
men act to cancel any similar threat in University class elec
tions. It is a sign of democracy in action on the campus front.
It is one of four freedoms our forces defend in global war.
^hcuih&-lpn,-Qwin<j,. . .
rjpiIANKSGl\ INC day exiles on the U of O campus will
give tangible thanks Wednesday night at the opening
event of the "cram-full” one-day vacation—the Thanks-for
giving dance. As part of the admission, door men will collect
from each couple useful items for the boys in the service.
The powers who dreamed up the crowded schedule to fill
the on-campus Thanksgiving must have been mindful that our
fighting' friends in l nclc Sam’s forces are giving freely of
themselves, of time, energy, thought, and even life, this No
vember. I hev have asked that such articles as: phonograph
records, new magazines, and cigarettes be included in the ad
mission fee, for small as they are, these are the kind of things
with which University students can help cheer the days that
their “brothers” in the fight spend away from home.
Oregon will give tangible thanks to the boys for what
they are doing. The gifts will bring appreciation from armed
forces which will really make this campus celebration a
Thanks-for-giving dance.—J. W.
I f^tJTFA BUDDY!
MEET A BUDDY
By BETTY LOU SIEGMAN
EDWARD MURPHY, 18, who was a freshman at the
University until recently, is the seventh son from the family
of Mrs. E. V. D. Murphy to enter the service. He will report
in Portland today for induction.
His six older brothers have been in the army for some
time. The father of the boys, the late Col. E. V. D. Murphy,
was former commandant at the
University of Oregon ROTC.
Tom Cox, former Oregon base
ball star, and later sports writer
for the Salem Capital Journal,
has left the coast to enter the
U.S. marine officer training
school at Quantico, Va.
Captain Promoted
The promotion last week of
Captain Sidney A. Milligan, ’38,
to the rank of major in the army
air forces at Gardner field* basic
flying school where he is post
adjutant and assistant to its com
manding officer, was announced
by the war department in Wash
ington, D. C.
Formerly a practicing attorney
at Cottage Grove, Major Milligan
attended the University for five
years, where he was president of
the law school student body and
captain and coach of the college
golf team which won the north
ern division championship. He
was a member of Phi Delta Theta
and Phi Alpha Delta, legal fra
ternity.
Koppen Gets Wings
Lieut. John C. Koppen, ’40,
was among the group of fighter
and bomber pilots who were
awarded the silver wings of full
fledged army airmen this month
at schools in the gulf coast army
air forces training center, head
quarters at Randolph field.
Sgt. Richard C. McClintic, ’41,
who is with the U.S. army ad
vance base in the medical corps,
is reported “somewhere in New
Guinea.”
Poem Included
In a letter received this week
by his sister, Mary, a freshman in
journalism, he included the fol
lowing poem on a soldier’s life
in war-time New Guinea, written
by an Australian friend. Sgt. Mc
Clintic, himself, composed the
last four lines, which he believes
to be an excellent glimpse into
New Guinea life.
Somewhere in New Guinea, where
me sun is liKe a curse,
Where each day is followed by
another, only slightly worse.
Where the dust is thicker than
the drifting desert sand,
And the white man dreams and
wishes he were in a fairer land.
Somewhere in New Guinea where
a woman's never seen,
Where the sky is never cloudy
and the grass is never green,
Where the siren’s nightly howl
ing robs a man of blessed sleep,
Where there isn’t any whisky and
and the beer is never cheap.
Somewhere in New Guinea where
the mail is always late,
And a Christmas card in April
is considered up to date.
Where we never have a payday so
we never have a cent,
But we never miss the money
’cause we’d never get it spent.
Somewhere in New Guinea with a
pack that Atlas couldn’t carry,
Dreaming of the beer at Perrins,
with Tom, Dick and Harry.
So take me back to Aussie, let me
hear the bookies yell.
For this is God’s forsaken out
post and substitute for hell!
Somewhere in New Guinea with
the flies, mosquitoes and the
ants,
And a soldier’s constant dreaming
is of an unexpected chance
To return once more to the USA,
to hear the newsboys yell,
For this is God's forsaken outpost
and a substitute for hell!
A&Jdib
By JOHN J. MATHEWS
COASTING: From the old
home town by the Golden Gate
earfuls are seeping out about a
band that-is vying very hard for
number one spot among the top
colored outfits. At the RKO
Gol'n Gate the second balcony
has been jumping to the solid
outpourings of Lionel Hampton
and his great crew. Surprise is
in the performance of the side
men. No one has ever expected
anything but the best from boss
Hampton himself, but, since his
old Goodman days, rumor and
general opinion has not placed
any of his aggregations along
side Lunceford or Ellington or
Basie.
The story now seems to be dif
ferent. *
The conservative Chronicle sent
its new drama reporter, Dwight
Whitney to cover the Hampton
opening, and he came back to the
office to write a rave notice.
Campus jazzhawk Freddie Beck
with makes big with the rolling
of the eyes and the lolling of the
tongue every time he hears the
name of L.H. And both boys
have plenty of reason.
Good Jam
Anyone who has heard Ernie
Royal and Karl George try to cut
each other’s trumpet work, has
had some real jazz kicks. Per
haps more enjoyable yet from the
musician’s standpoint is the jam
tramming of Teddy Beckett, who
really handles his horn with class.
All this fine stuff is merely to
back up the immortal Lionel -on
his vibes.
Of course, it's almost a waste
of good space to try to criticize
Hampton on vibraphone. It would
certainly take someone who
knows much more about music
than I do, and, as a matter of
fact, I have a hunch the man
does not breathe and hear who is
really capable of taking Hamp
ton’s work apart.
Two Inseparable
Lionel's name has become in
separably associated with his in
strument, and no one has ever
been able to touch him on it. The
prep school kids may like his
(Please turn to page three)
k."- i:;;: .mm.iiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiuniiiiiii.imam..
Between
The Lines
By BOY NELSON
THE BOYS WITH the brown
sox were listening to Major
Blythe in the ROTC shack as he
pointed out how not to give com
mands. The major used the fol
lowing illustration:
“Hips on shoulders, place! As
you was, as you was—can’t be
did!”
In one of the recent Thursday
afternoon drills, an officer
flashed a tape rule and applied
it to the forehead of James^'iy
jove, buy clove, buy gym” Moyer.
“Ah, ha—” sneered the looie,
“your cap is 1% inches from your
eyebrow, instead of 1 inch.
That’ll be one de-merit.”
Cries Private Moyer: “Aw,
shoot—I’m a failure!”
Bow Wow
While in a. journalism class,
Professor Turnbull was interrupt
ed by the antics of a dog. “Guess
I’ll have to take the dog out,”
was his statement to the group.
And he proceeded to effect the
removal.
At the door the professor
paused. No—I guess I won’t.”
And he walked back to his desk.
“As a matter of fact—it’s rny
dog.”
In still another journalism con
flab, Professor Hall asked a
question and in asking gave^ e
answer away. “What is the point
size of thisr30-point gravure?”
And some stimulated stude
answered,' ^36-point.”
Surprise
Clell Crane overdid things. He
is now packing from class to
class with a b r o k e n wrist said
to be t^jg'fesult of vigorous key
chain swinging. A female Emer
ald w$r columnist, came up to
him, observed the arm in a cast,
and said: “Oh, you hurt your
wrist, "huh T’ Crane looked down
at his arm in a sling, and ex
claimed, “Well, I'll be darned!”
Latest in the boomer basin is
an adjustable key-chan. Curt
Leichner picked one up down
town. The thing has a pulley ef
fect which., contracts and ex
pands at the wearer's discretj'v-n.
For close .in swinging or ^fll
length spirals.
Lost Pin
Harley Davis, the Jim Thayer
of Canard club, misplaiced his
pin. It isn’t the loss of the jew
elry that bothers him—it's the
thought that maybe someone will
find it and plant it on someone.
“And I don’t want to go steady,”
moans the boomer, “I wan to cir
culate!”
A boarding house on Thirteenth
with an enrollment of eight hung
cut the following sign:
THE HOUSE OF SEVEN
GABLES—AND 1 FLYNN
Pardon me while I go out and
get some frozen egg yokes.
!l!!l!i:r!!!!l!!III!!IIIII!II!l!!lll!i
It's Our War.
iiuiiuiiii
By NORMA TKEVORKOW
The Liberty Box stands new and
strange,
And students ask, what is that
thing ?
What is it tor ? I can't spare
change—
I have to save . . . why should it
ring ?
Yes, save for those men to re
turn
To Oregon, when peace is king.
And through that Bex, again to
learn.
So it sings on softly—ring, ring,
ring. . .
Bill Lilly and Marge Curtis,
co-chairmen in the salvage drive,
sat dejectedly in the Side yes
terday wondering if cooks are
really going to take trouble to
dig through all that grease and
goo and set it up to be collected.
It is a sort of a dirty job—may
be too much to ask. But at the
thought of cannons spitting like
devils through hot, pursed lips,
maybe the job won’t be so hard.
A gallon of fat . . . seven pounds
—is it too much or too little.
Lucky Strikes turn a handsome
white because of the rationing
of green dyes. Purty, ain’t they?
Local Talent
Last night on the radio
Lane Family, written by Bar
bara Hampson and directed by
Mr. Wood of the radio workshop,
(Please turn to page three)