Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 9, 1943)
Oregon elf Emerald RAY SCHRICK, Editor; BETTY BIGGS SCHRICK, Business MgT. G. Duncan Wimpress, Managing Editor; Marjorie Young, News Editor; John J. Mathews, Associate Editor UPPER BUSINESS STAFF Advertising Managers: Lois Claus, Classified Advertising Man John Jensen, Cecil Sharp, Shirley Davis, ager. Russ Smelser. Elizabeth Edmunds, National AdvertU Dwayne Heathman ing Manager. Connie Fullmer, Circulation Manager. Member Fbsocided Golle6iate Press ALL-AMERICAN 1942 UPPER NEWS STAFF Fred Treadgold, Co-Sports Editor Fred Beckwith, Co-Sports Editor Roy Nelson, Art Editor Marge Major, Women’s Editor Janet Wagstaff, Assistant Editor Ted Goodwin Asst. Managing Editor 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. 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. 9 Gove* the GamfuU (Before reading this column, the editorial staff of the Emerald recommends whole-heartedly that you turn first to column five, the article “On Gossip Columns.”—Ed.) T'f’S SATURDAY morning. We’re still locked in the throes of student betterment week, and those cute li’l sorority pledges can’t talk to any-one, see, cuz this is their “Hell,” too. East-side, west-side, all around the school . . . we hear— the Kwamas made big plans for a hag party, with no men invited. . . . Marsh Glos of the Sigma Chi clan is giving the big rush to Alpha Chi Omega Jean Pimentol. . . . Curt Lind ley of the Beta House has been tabbed as quite a chemist by those students who rode south with him to California over the Xmas holidays. . . . Mr. “Hurry-up” Haynes of the Sigma Chi house received his pin back from Pi Phi Mary Jane 1 erry. . . . Phi Sig Ed Wyatt presented Tri-Delt Betsy Stephens with a beautiful diamond last week. . . . Bandleader George Carey of the same house, has joined the steady ranks with Betty Jane Bennett, Gamma Phi, “the girl with the longest blonde hair on the campus.” . . . Bill Woods hung his Maltese Cross on Au dre Williams of Portland. . . . And big Tommy Oxman has camped himself at the Pi Phi house. . . . Everyone can now breathe easier! G. Dune. Wimpress has landed himself a date for the Senior Ball! . . . ’Tis rumored the A-Dee-Pi’s are having trouble with their eye-brows. . . . And here’s the laugh of the week—lack Billings, blonde adonis of the shack, was talking to Marj Young of Emerald fame, about her lipstick. Said La Belle Young in a white fury, “It doesn't come off! But you wouldn’t know anything about that!” CIGMA Kappa Mariam Hoffman is another one of the Cali ^ fornia clan who didn’t make the trek back to Oregon this semester. . . . Advance speculations on the popularity ot so rority houses during the Nickel Hop, favor the following trio of honey-combs: (1) Alpha Phi, (2) Pi-Phi, (3) Delta Gam ma. . . . Chi Psi Byron Van Meter hung a sweetheart pin on a Miss Hickman of Sacramento. . . . The Phi Psi pledges defy ing the members during Hell week, threw lighted fire-crackers out of the house windows much to the annoyance of passers by. . . . Dell Ken Stanley is havin’ fun in his physic labs. . . . Fiji Fred Treadgold bestowed his pin upon his best girl from Mills college in California. They both hail from Grants Pass, Ore. . . . "Kewpie” Kendall of the same house has just re ceived the title of No. 1 patronizer of the Side’s pinball ma chines. . . . For the best work-outs in the fizz-ed department, we recommend John Warren’s 10 o'clock basketball class on Mon., Wed., and Fridays. . . . The song the juke box enthu siasts at the Falcon are giving the play to these days is “Can't Get Out of This Mood.” . . . And here's where we scoop Math ews and his jive-column: Buddy Rich, ex-Tommy Dorsey drummer, is now pounding the hides for Benny Carter!—So Mr. Rich is not in the Marines yet, and, in fact, he even had his own band for a while, but it broke up. . . . Phi Dell “Spider” Dixon has dreamed up a new ballad num ber he calls "Blue Eternity.” . . . The Dee-Gees were fortu nuate to get that certain Miss Lynch as a new pledge.. . . She's really cute. . . , The librarian at the art school library, a come ly lass by the name of Joyce Scott, was pestered no end on the phone the other night by two gents who wanted her to hear their poem—one of the poets was from the Pi Kappa Alpha house and the other was a Delt. . . . Best wishes to ATO Pres ident Bob McDonald who is in the infirmary with measles. . . . Dorclla Cole of Hendricks hall phoned her boy friend the other eve, and told him he had just been voted the most popular bov by—Susan Campbell hall. . . . He was speechless. . . . -1 — F. B. giiiiiaHiiBiiiniiiniiiiniiiiniiniiiHiiiiiaiiiiB^ By CHARLES POLITZ The World’s Dearly Beloved, Adolph Hitler Weiners-haven, Germ-any Dear Foo-her, We were amazed at the im polite likenesses of you recently published in the unfair American press. “Ach,” shuddered von Schlut zenstein upon viewing the atroc ity. “Ach ugg,” I gutteraled. “Auchtugg with sauerkraut,” retorted Schlutzey, his fine sense of Nazi pride never permitting him to be outdone; and conse quently I noticed that all that day his heils were less passionate, his goose-step, less goosey. Poor fellow, so sensitive and gentle—like Pruneface, that mir ror of a great American spirit that I must admit, dear Foo-her, our GREATER GERM-ANY has overlooked and could well copy. See almighty leader, Herr Goeb bels was wrong. Derr are some great Americans. Gesundheit We fervently hope that your annual visit to the Benevolent Society for the Strangulation of Little Infinks will restore your ruddy complexion. Also may we humbly suggest that your diet of glaced sawdust grapefruit, broiled wood worms, and your daily two-quart allot ment of homogenized rat blood may be a bit too strenuous. Try one quart a day for a while. We are now settled in the sumptuous confines of Glutta hall. Only your Belchersgarden retreat can match the conven iences and serenely quiescent at mosphere of our suite here. Why didn’t Herr Goebbels tell us that accommodations in this barbaric and illiterate land of pigmies were like this. If they only had your kind, considerate guiding hand, America might survive. Think of it—a whole floor with out a cockroach. Our fellow dwellers are seem ingly most accommodating but are not to be trusted, of course. I haff found only one American (who my magnificently trained Nazi mind would say) was one in whose hands we could entrust the immortal mission of freeing America from its greedy despots. He is one Izzy Moscowitz. Von (Please turn to Page Seven) II!1!IIII!IIIIIIIIIIIIII!IIIIIIIIII|IIIIIII!IIIIIIIIIII1' On Gossip Columns iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimnmiiii As the radio announcer would say, “Ah, ah, ah, ah . . . don t touch that dial!” Or as we will say, “Ah, ah, ah, ah . . . don t turn to another column—yet!” Give us this one chance. There has been strong demand for a gossip column of late. It seems Associated Collegiate Press, which has rated the Em erald one of the seven best papers in the nation in its class for six consecutive years, frowns on the “gossip” column. We have Between The Lines By ROY PAUL, KELSON The activity man from the fra ternity across the street from the Pi Phi house has just been hand ed the chairmanship of the Dads’ Day program, according to a re cent Emerald dispatch. Appli cants included the Phi Delt and a Beta, but the outcome of the race actually hinged on a Mr. Politz, a second-page contem porary. Charlie didn’t want the chair manship, but he had plans to of fer. Both the candidates wanted the chairmanship, but they had no plans to offer. And so Politz met and dickered with the two men in the Co-op store just before they were to be interviewed. First one then the other patted Politz on the back and turned on the high pressure, and the kid could have given the plans to either one and probably insured that one’s appointment. The Winnah! Said Politz, tritely: “No. I will be fair. I will give my plans to the winner. Now, go. And may the best man win.” (Applause) But friend Charlie went up be fore the board himself. He ap plied—for the promotion chair manship. And Politz won. He had no competition. And the Phi Delt won. He was up against a Beta. To Politz and his assistant— congratulations. Chain Gang Interesting to note, incidental ly, is a scene that occured re cently wherein one key-chain swinger was instructing another in an advanced technique of the art. The aforementioned Phi Delt boomer was present, but it was non-boomer Billings, late of the (Please turn to page three) UIII!lllll!!UUUU!lllllUl!!UUIinilll!ll)l!ll!llli:ill!niini!ll!lllU!l!l!l»:!l!nll!!Ul!l!l!II!l!)t!l!ie | MiOsied rWil±Q+t £p,iel . . . Marion L. Davis, 24 Being the wife of Oregon’s first Pulitzer prize winner isn’t near ly enough for brown-haired, charming Marion Ley Davis, ’24. Husband Harold L. Davis's hon ors as a result of his novel “Hon ey in the Horn” haven’t embar rassed Mrs. Davis's writing ca reer in the least. She placidly continues to pub lish stories in such magazines as The New Yorker, Forum, Vogue, This Week, American, Mercury, and Colliers, rolling up an excel lent personal record as an auth oress. The creative urge was evident in her college days when she was known to Chi Omega sisters as Marion Dreka Ley. Membership in Pot and Quill, women’s creat ive writing honorary, and work in the journalism school showed her leanings toward the writing field. From University Marion Ley bounded into a job as special writer on the editorial staff of the Seattle Times. It was in Se attle, during the latter part of May in 1928, that she married Harold L. Davis, ex - Stanford Student and prospective Pulitzer prize winner. The $1000 award was won in 1937. “Honey in the Horn’’ had already earned the Harper’s prize for the best novel of 1934-35 for its author and was something of a literary bombshell its coming out year. Neither the general public nor proud Mrs. Davis was greatly surprised at the accom plishment of writer Davis. A 1932 winning of a Guggenheim fellow ship had led readers to expect something outstanding from this Oregon writer. The Davis’s are now entrenched in San Francisco—both writing. This time it’s Marion Davis's turn to pull down the Pulitzer award. OlLcIl &[JUncu uui pan (150.^10 _ them too, the one of "us” that is. But when it comes to a question whether the editor shall be pig shaved for not printing a colume, or whether the writer of sucfl )l column should be shaved, we read ily relinquish our claim to the honor. Henceforth by unanimous consent, including our brow beaten vote, the Emerald shall have a column of gossip. This originally started as an editorial—but, “Ah, ah, ah, ah . .. don’t turn to another column— vet!” You see, it is downright dis couraging to spend hour after hour day after day writing edi torials which no one reads unless it is one on Oregon State on page one that hits the reader in the eye so he can’t get around is. Maybe it’s not exactly fair (to ourselves) to say that nobody reads the page two edit column. Every so often someone will say, "Nice editorial this morning, Ray” (having seen no initials at j bottom which usually means tne editor’s work). But when you re ply happily, "Why, thanks a lot . . . do you agree with the point?” . . . and they stammer a general reply, hoping they hit upon the ac tual subject. . . well, over a period of time, it breaks down even a journalist’s morale. In continuing we should say . . . but, Ah, ah, ah, ah . . . don’t turn to another column—yet!” What we are really trying to accomplish is this: Today’s edi torial appears in the column henceforth devoted to gossip. We hope enough students will think this started as a gossip column to read it. Furthermore, we have forsaken our time-"honored” dou ble editorial column for the latest in Boy-Meet-Girl stories. We know this is one way to get \ regular editorial column read’. Further, we are certain if we did this long enough, a cross-section poll of student opinion would show very close to 100 per cent readership of the editorial column. This record we would be proud to flaunt years after our graduation. Best this appear as wordy and long, as most editorials do, we must say now, "Yes, you can turn ! to another column.” (P.S.: It's three columns to the left, under the masthead.) By JOHN J. MATHEWS From “Cafe Society” (Down town) to the strictly reet Trou ville somewhere near the legend ary corner of Hollywood and Vine fine music is being made. As usual the L.A. area is prac tically monopolizing it—except for Saunders King in San Fran cisco—but just the bands and soloists in that area alone are enough to keep the whole Pacific slope jumping for quite a time. But just try to lay hands on a recording of some of the new a' burg. Brother, it just ain’t pos sible. Dorsey, Goodman, and Kenton are all romping through the air righteous. Especially (Please turn to page two)