Oregon W Emerald
MARJORIE MAJOR
Editor
ELIZABETH EDMUNDS
Business Manager
Marjorie Young, Managing Editor
Charles Politz, Associate Editor Joanne Nichols, Assistant Editor
Shirley Lees, Advertising Manager
Staff this issue:
Edith Newton
Wilma Foster
Bill Lindley
And the ARMY
Pat Perry
Jan Suttle
Gladys Turley
Scribes
Betty Ann Stevens
Vic Huffaker
Bob Scott
Published daily during the college year except Sundays. Mondays, holiday* and final
examination periods by the Associated Students, University of Oregon.
Entered as second-class matter at the postoffice, Eugene, Oregon.
Wkat Will 9t He like?
One question is the big thing with' Oregon students this
' summer, whether ‘old’ or prospective. Former students remem
ber the campus as it was maybe two years ago, last year they
saw it change at first subtly, and then with a bang when that
certain early morning train moved out of the Eugene station
and took the enlisted reserve corps men with them. And so
they want to know what is emerging from the list of rumors.
They want to know what the campus will be like this fall.
Prospective students, freshmen particularly, are wondering
if perhaps the famous flavor of a college sampus is on the
ration list, too. They want to know if courses are harder than
•; before, or if they are unsuitable for their particular ambitions.
; They want an even clearer picture of things to come when
' the line forms on any available side at registration.
T * * * *
How many people will be here? Present estimates put the
J figure near 2,000. Of these approximately 1,500 will he civilian
1 students. The rest will be the service men already in training
' as meteorologists and pre-engineers. Other groups may or may,
; not come. A great bulk of the student population, in any case,
j will be servicemen.
The changes the war brought: induction, emptier class
| room, campus khaki, uncertainty—have already happened. 1 he
campus has settled down to business. With a sense of direction
j this time. And that is the difference we will notice this year.
, A little more earnestness. A tendency to copy the steady
; study methods of the men in khaki.
1 The schedule of courses is the same one followed last year,
t except that spring term will be longer. Speed-up courses in
the wartime sense are not planned. However, summer sessions
' this year, and probably the next will allow the average student
1 to graduate within three years. Special courses which can be
put to immediate use in the war effort were added last year
■; and arc well established in the scheme of things.
But business ‘harder than usual’ is not effective seven days
in any week. Socially, the campus will be brighter than it was
last spring term, when a decided atmosphere of gloom made
even a canoe ride on the mill race a little grim.
Saturday nights will he large and as fine as collections of
college students have always been able to make them. Def
inite plans are ready which will make soldier-student dances
welcome routine.
This year, the series of concerts and lectures will be by
no means ignored. In fact, plans which have reached advanced
stages indicate double the amount of attractions and unus
ually good box office candidates.
* * *
And there is the final question, important to all students—
is this the campus I have planned for. I know there is more
work to do, know the war has restricted and molded the ways
in which college people live and think. Hut have the tradition,
the memory-making things 1 am looking for, or remember,
evaporated in the stern business of winning a war?
I want to learn, I want to find out what I can do, and I
want to know that my four years (or my remaining years)
here will be full to the last minute with activities, fun, and the
best of book-learning. Will I find these things?
The answer, of course, is yes. As in peace years, the student
who seeks, finds—without exception. If it is a period of four
years in which to become acquainted with many worlds con
densed into lectures and books, or whether it is your chance
for full development in a line of work and the finding of that
work—or if it is both, the answer is ‘yes’.
In fact, the answer is more than ever ‘yes’. Learning, think
ing, living with some kind of purpose is the rule, rather than
the exception in these times. Colleges and universities all over
the country have become for many the havens, not of retreat,
but of preparation for the time when the last troop ship is
dry-docked and mind power has the premium over force.
AND IN ADDITION
By CHARLES POLITZ
Only similarity of the following
to a. gossip column is that it pur
ports to mention names of people
presumably living — although at
times we must admit the authen
ticity of the statement is not
prone to question.
Word had it via Leland “Prole
tariet’ Flatberg that Theodore
Hallock, Oregon's eminent cham
ber music critic and ex-unintelli
gible column writer was about to
marry Muriel Meyer, a former
Oregon phenomenon—a brunette
Alfalfee.
Flatberg, reversing his former
history exam technique, for once
was right—but quickly. Saturday
he said it, and Saturday without
notifying Flatberg further they
got married. All of which leaves
Flatberg—still unmarried.
And about Flatberg—he who
has journeyed to his draft board
so often that he is beginning to
make like a troop train—he is
sportswriting on the Oregonian.
Dr. Edward Christian Allen
Lesch will be surprised and happy
to know that there is a grocery
store named for him two blocks
from the Portland municipal au
ditorium and one block from the
International Brotherhood of
Boilermakers, Iron Shipbuilders,
and Helpers of America. It is on
the corner.
Speaking of Ted Hallock—we
i 1
did, didn't we. Ted just received
his wings from the bombardier
school at Doming, New Mexico,
where it is hot all the time and
they have dust storms and his
barracks mate was Fred Gong,
art editor of the Oregana until
he was no longer art editor of the
Oregana.
Fred, you will remember if we
remind you, was the winner of
the American magazine's national
youth art contest of a couple of
years back. He was in town last
week on 12-day leave. The grind
at Deming is really tough he ex
plained, and to support his con
tention added that out of a class
of 175 only 112 cross the finish
line to receive the silver wings.
The slightest twitching of the
eyelashes, biting of fingernails, or
any similar symptoms of nervous
ness is sufficient to give you your
“wash-out” papers. In addition
your bombing average from
11,000 feet must be UNDER 230
feet from the target. 231 feet
and you’re washed!
Then there is love life.
Nelda Rohrbach has been
spending her time in Piedmont
thinking about Lee. Lee has been
spending his time in Portland
thinking about Nelda.
Ain’t concentration marvelous.
What started all this thinking
was the fact that Lee cut short
his stay with Nelda’s parents in
Piedmont because he expected to
be called to Fort Benning any
day. He returned to Portland
where he has spent the last two
months thinking and taking hi^
brothers and sisters to cowboj
movies. He received his orders to
report the other day. Oh, how hq
must miss the cowboy movies.
Betsy Wootton, she of the Dor^
othy Parker verse, but good, and
Mark Howard, one of the two re-jj
turning Sigma Delta Chis, will be
married around the 15th of Sep
kJite
tember. This seems to be
the thing to do nowadays. ~
Sally Spencer is doing nursery*
work at Portland’s mammoth!
Vanport project. All you kiddie;*
who wish to get under nurse*
maid’s hair be informed that hew
real name is Sara. 1
Nancy Reisch, last year’s stu5
dent body vice-president who wej
thought lived in Salem but whd
lives in Portland was last seen in
Hilaire’s sipping a coke, which i^
not unusual except that it was
chocolate coke. She has since fin-i
ished same. *
Just for the novelty of spelling
out a boy’s name on the typewrit
er may we mention that we* I 1
Bill Sinnott waiting for a su*.
car last week. This is rather an
ordinary thing to do but Bill does
it rather more expertly than most
of us. Bill was just here on sab-;
(Please turn to page three)
'agent* SfH* It.
5 s sells
Official store for Vogue and Mademoiselle