Oregon If Emerald
RAY SCHRICK, Editor; BETTY BIGGS SCHRICK, Business Mgr.
G. Duncan Wimpress, Managing Editor; Marjorie Young, News Editor;
John J. Mathews, Associate Editor
UPPER BUSINESS STAFF
Advertising Managers: .
John Jensen, Cecil Sharp, Shirley Davu,
Russ Smelser.
Dwayne Heathman .
Connie Fullmer, Circulation Manager.
1X)1S l_.iaus, ——
Elizabeth Edmunds, National Advertii
ing Manager.
Member
Associated Cblle6iate Press
ALL-AMERICAN 1942
UPPER NEWS STAFF
Lee Flatberg, Sports Editor
Marge Major, Women’s Editor
Janet Wagstaff, Assistant Editor
Represented for national advertising by NATIONAL Boston
INC., college publishers’ representative, 420 Madison Ave., New York C g
_Los Angeles—San Francisco—Portland Seattle.
Published daily during the college year except Sundays, Mondays, holiday, and 6nal
““eSSS asr^ondyclahse8 mMtrra^he poTtoi’f^ce,"Eugene,^Oregon. ’ _
KhmcJzIz 3)cuuh—Al(UU • . .
THAT eight o’cldtk bell is going to ring a few minutes after
this morning’s Emerald hits the breakfast table. 1 hat bell
Is going to ring in a new term at the end of an old year. It should
start a lot of things clicking in the mind of the average stud
ent, if they haven’t started already.
If anyone has a faint heart about his university future in
this war, it would be well to stop reading here. Because this
editorial isn’t going to be all pretty, and it’s going to look at
some pretty cold facts.
In peace time it might have been all right for everyone to
look upon a college education as his just right and heritage.
But such is no longer the case. An education is not a right,
it is a responsibility.
TXT I', 2000-odd students who will register winter term are
’' lucky. We don’t know if we will last the year out, but
while we are here, our position is one of unique fortune.
The United States has built a fighting force of five million
men in little over a year. There are going to be youthful addi
tions to that force monthly, weekly, and daily, two thousand
odd students are not kept on the Oregon campus nor are thou
sands kept on campuses across the nation just for the gentle
manly sake of letting these thousands have a good time while
other thousands win the war. We are kept here only as long
as our immediate training here is worth more than our imme
diate service on the lighting front. And even that may not be
too long. We have the advantage, that at least for now, we can
work toward a diploma. We have the responsibility that we
must do something for the war program.
This is our war just as much as it is the next man s.
* * *
XX71TU superior resources, with superior manpower, with su
perior machines we have been losing this war. And it is
not alone that we were caught unprepared. It is the simple
fact that with inferior resources, inferior manpower, and in
ferior machines Japan and Germany have so efficiently organ
ized that they have outmaneuvered our economy of abundance.
Our shortage applies as much to brainpower as it does to
steel. We have the resources, and we know we have them. By
that very fact we have carelessly fallen one step behind the
Axis.
We arc privileged to go to school, to take advantage ol
the superior resources we have. If we don't we don't deserve to
be on a university campus. And more important, if we don't,
we are in grave danger of losing this war. 1 here is no middle
point, no half way. Our enemies, with inferior resources, have
attacked us because they don t think we have what it takes to
organize our economy" of abundance—in both brainpower and
steel. They are playing for keeps.
* * *
JK THE army believes we will be of greater service driving
tanks and firing rifles in Africa, then we go into active duty
with a possible opportunity to return to some campus for fur
ther technical training. If the navy needs our reservists to re
place naval losses on the seas we will go. The marines may
run short of men in the Solomons, and they may have to speed
training of men from the marine reserves. That may soon
await many of the 2000-odd students who open the winter term
today.
That case rests on a future as yet unknown. The fact is
that while we are here, we must prove our right to stay here.
It isn’t fun to say that studies will be twice as hard, nor to say
that there won’t be much more coffee, butter, meat, or canned
goods. It isn’t fun either to pack a machine gun in open attack
on a Jap garrison. The truth that most of us realize now and
that we all will realize soon is that war is not fun whether it is
fought on a university campus with books on mathematics and
phvsics or in a jungle with rapid-fire guns.
Through that eight o’clock, nine o’clock, or ten o’clock to
day remember that this may well be our last war-time term
at Oregon. Get the most out of it. What we learn now may
come in handy when we are flying that B-l7.
Between
The Lines
By ROY NELSON
REW LEFTovers from the
pre-vacation era:
The Theta Chi phone rang and
a Highland house voice an
nounced that one of the fratern
ity's personnel was roaming the
halls of the girls’ co-op house.
“And it’s after hours,” cried the
girl. “Come and get him.”
And so two carfuls of Theta
Chis headed promptly to the
scene of the disturbance. A quick
buzz of the doorbell summoned a
girl who handed out the Theta
Chi house mascot, “Rough Cut.’
And the boys left.
Getting Personnel
Norris Yates showed his draft
card as he bought a ticket to
“Desperate Journey” . . . Joe
Conenberg was assigned by his
house the task of painting the
woodwork around the phone
booth. Joe, who measures well
above six feet—with his coat on
—hung up a “wet paint” sign
only where “Towering” Joe could
see it. And all the house members
went around with sticky fingers.
. . . Roy Koski is the only man
on the campus who does his Eng
lish comp on a slide rule . . . Two
gents were pitted against each
ether in a tardy evening brawl,
and the odds were on A, but B
effected an upset. A’s only ex
cuse: “The sun got in my eyes.”
..I think about the worst
thing,
That can happen to a guy;
Is for a gal to wink at him,
In a manner that is sly.
The reason that I hate it so.
Is that certain thing I lack.
My eyebrows just won’t wig
gle,
And, gee whiz, I can’t wink
back.
Concerning registration: the in
firmary should have been built
nearer the Igloo.
One battered soul wandered up
and was apparently hunting for
something, which was evident
from the hunting glint in his eye.
“I’m hunting for something,”
he said, and then hunted for a
listener.
“What seems to be the trouble,
kiddo,” a faculty adviser insist
ed.
“I’m looking for the foreign
language table.”
“Ah yes, that should be around
somewhere. Mmmm.”
And they hunted together.
"Foreign language, you say?”
said the teacher.
“Yes, foreign language,” veri
(Please turn to Page Seven)
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WOODROW WILSON
WAS THE MOST COLLEGIATE OF ALU ~
OF OCR U.S. PRESIDENTS. HE ATTENDED
FOUR, CCAV1DSON, PRINCETON, VIRGINIA.
AND JOHNS HOPKINS); BECAME PRES*.
IDENTOF PRINCETON; WAS OFFERED
THE PRESIDENCY OF SB/EN OTHER.
UNIVERSITIES; RECEIVED 21 HONORARY
DEGREES;-MORETHAN DID ANT OTHER.
PRESIDENT ON A PURELY ACADEMIC
• • • • BASIS/ • • • •
vV
JLl xtv
COACHED FOOTBALL AT
WESLEYAN U.
W1
TAUfiHT AT BRYN
MAVJR, WESLEYAN
AND PRINCETON.'
MILLER HALL
IS CONSIDERED THE OLDEST FRAT
ERNITY HOUSE IN THE U.S. IT HAS
BEEN USED EXCLUSIVELY AND CON
TINUOSLY FOR FRATERNITY PURPOSES
• ■ • SINCE 1884 • • •
PHI KAPPA P51 - GETTYSBURG COLLEGE
WINDOW COW
University of Minnesota once owned
A COW WITH A WINDOW IN HER SIDE /
VETERINARY STUDENTS STUDIED FOOD
DIGESTION THROUGH THE OPENING.
Poet E. G. Moll
Scores New 'Hit’
By JANET WAGSTAFF
Though Oregon’s versatile
fisherman professor, E. G. Moll,
has spanned the vast Pacific
with his poetry, the flood waters
of the Willamette kept him home
late last term.
Communicating with the cam
pus via the telephone, the black
bearded associate professor of
English reported that some of his
latest works will appear in the
Anthology of Best Australian
Poetry, 1941-42. This is a collec
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MliL
By John J. Mathews
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As I was standing in the green
front grocery buying my New
Year's dinner the other day, a
sharp looking character with a
three-day beard and a pair of
fondly clinging jeans began to
make conversation pieces with a
joe in the next line.
“Hey, Haugwitz,” he was say
ing. “Y’heard Spike Jones’ new
Victrola record? Hyulk, hyulk.’’
This last sound was a sort of
Snerd-like expression of mirth,
and as it issued forth, the gro
cery was filled with a scent in
memory of things passed.
From the embarrassed sideways
motions of Haugwitz’ down-hung
head, those of us who were still
on our feet gathered that he had
not dug Brother Jones’ latest.
“Oh, it’s a killer,’’ wheezed
Character No. 1, dipping- brazen
ly in the vernacular. “Hyulk,
hyulk,” he hyulk-hyulked again.
“They call it ‘Don’t Hit Yore
Granmaw with a Spade’.” Then,
bursting into uncontrollable guf
faws, he added that the second
line of the Jones opus was “just
paste her with a plain old rock.”
Which is a marvelous illustra
tion of why good musicians starve
to death. They just aren't funny.
$ * &
The Second City of the Pacific
slope, Baghdad-by-the-Bay, con
tinues as a happy hunting ground
for garbage bands. This Yule
season that fair city was fa
vored with the services of Herbie
Holmes, George Olsen, Mayris
Chaney, and Del Courtney. The
(Please turn to Page Seven)
tion of the works of three or four
Australian poets, and indicates
that this poet has gained perma
nent extra-territorial fame.
“Cut From Mulga”
It was during 1940 that his
name first was placed among
Australia's best poets. It was
then that his book “Cut From
Mulga” won the coveted distinc
tion of being chosen book of the
year, and official publication in
creative writing of the Common
wealth of Autralia.
Much of the work on this col
lection of poems was done during
the year he spent as an ex
change professor at the Univer
sity of Sydney. But for material
he drew on memories of his b^
hood and youth, which he spe*c
on the continent “down under’’
Australia-Born
Now an Americanized Aus
tralian, Moll was born at the turn
of the century August 25, 1900,
in Victoria, Australia. He studied
at Concordia college in that coun
try, then came to the United
States, to graduate from Lawr
ence college, in Wisconsin, in
1922. He then went to Harvard,
where in a year he obtained his
master of arts diploma. The sum
mer of 1922 he traveled in Eur
ope, and the next fall he went to
Colorado college as a member of
the faculty.
Two years later he returned to
Australia where he spent some
time in travel and study. Another
year at Colorado college, j’V
joined the English staff of t.4r
University of Oregon, 1928. He
has taught here since that time.
“Ideal Locale”
In Oregon, this professor has
found what he believes is the
ideal locale for a poet and a lover
of the out-of-doors, although the
experiences of this may prompt a
few reservations. “Fishing, for
me, has been very poor this
year,” he announced with quiet
but definite emphasis. “If I said
anything more, it would be pro
fane.”
During vacations and often on
week-ends he tramps the Oregon
woods, adding to his bird lore^lfc
field in which he is also remar#'
ably skilled. One summer, which
culminated n a delightful book
of poems, he spent as a ranger
naturalist at Crater lake.
(Pfe'ase turn to Page Seven)