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About Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 8, 1944)
By MARY JO GEISER
‘‘This is Miss Blank, your announcer, saying ‘goodbye’ until
this same time tomorrow ...” and so might en da program an
nounced, produced, written, acted or directed by a feminine crew
of radio operators.
Yes, radio is now calling talented college women to its ex
clusive fold. Before the war, men held practically all key positions
in radio and women activity was
limited. The keys of the industry
are in women’s hands for the first
time if they care to use them.
If radio is your dream job, and
there are radio shoes you want to
fill, consider the possibilities offer
ed through the courses here on the
In charge of radio coordination
„ is Kenneth S. Wood, instructor in
speech and dramatic arts. Compre
hensive courses offered are the
prerequisite fundamentals of broad
casting, then program production,
radio scrip writing, and the radio
“At present the radio workshop
classes build and produce two pro
grams a week over the Corvallis
station KOAC, totaling three hours
a week over the air,” explained
Mr. Wood. “Other schools and de
partments cooperate on these
shows, the journalism and music
department, for instance.”
Possibly next year, Eugene’s sta
tion KOliE will have completed
plans for a regular U. of O. cam
pus program release. Experience
on these small programs is inval
uable since the smaller station is
considered the finest training
ground for the individual who
wishes to work into and up in the
Right now the radio industry is
divided into the networks, their
managed and owned stations, self
owned stations which are affiliat
ed with the networks ,and inde
pendent or non-network stations.
There are 950 stations operating
on the 29 available channels. Sta
tions may vary in size from 100
watts to 50,000 watt clear channel
Writing for radio is not limited
to dramatic scrips, although these
are very important. Varying types
of programs make up a station
schedule. A check has shown that
on the average 52 per cent are
musical; 9 per cent drama; 8 and
5-10 per cent variety; 11 per cent
talks and dialogue; 9 pgr cent
news; 5 per cent religious and de
votional; 2 per cent special event;
2 per cent miscellaneous. Because
of the war, the percentage of news
commentaries and talks has gone
up materially and music and spe
cial programs have gone down.
Today you can’t talk about ra
dio without dreaming about tele
visions. Television probably will
come out of this war as radio did
in the last. Its popular use is not
so much a technical problem now
as one of economics and produc
tion. Although techniques for na
tional television broadcasting are
unperfected, local television with
in a 200 mile radius will be possible
as soon as supplies are again avail
able for civilian use.
Nine V. S. television stations are
broadcasting regularly now, three
In New York, one in Seheneetady,
one in Philadelphia, two in Chiea
go. and two in Hollywood.
New television sets will be avail
able within six months after peace
in Kurope. Television’s pictures
will depend on receiving sets, but
probably will range from 8 in. by
10 in. up to approximately 20 in.
by 24 in.
The best reception is within 60
milt's of the station. Television will
carry any seene that a camera ean
record from the studio or field.
Frequency modulation and inter
national short wave further will
enlarge the field of activity and
point to the new vocational oppor
tunities. (FM is a high-fidelity, al
most static-free radio system, op
" Dear Sirs:
In the Emerald of Decern- 1
1 her 29 (I think that was the "
■ > date) you published a num- -
. * her of tributes to the mem- ,,
,, ory of our son, Donald. Both ,,
,, Mrs. Erb and I were much ,
moved by them.
Would it be possible for us
to have as many as half-a
dozen copies of that number,
if you have them ? If you will
send them on, together with
'1 a bill for them, I shall gladly
" send you stamps to cover. "
" Thanking you for giving
1 this request 5’our attention, I
, Sincerely yours,
J. LAWRENCE ERB
l( r.S.: Dec. 29 is the date.
By ERVIN WEBB
This is a tale about Percy.
Percy is Ophelia’s brother, only
Ophelia doesn’t know it. Percy un
like his sister, has been around for
years. He’s tried everything from
law to surgery, and claims if he
doesn’t get a degree in janitoring
come spring, he’s going to OSC.
When he told us that, we told him
a better place to go.
Everybody knows Percy, and
those who don’t soon do—vicious
circle isn’t it? But here is the tale.
Percy opened the door quietly
and trying hard not to let it
squeak, lest the noise disturb the
occupants of the room. He stepped
inside. The air was filled with
snores, heavy breathing, and sky
bound legs. Bodies, like sacks of
dampened straw, and as numerous
as California drivers at a circuit
court, were popped up in every
imaginable attitude throughout the
Percy’s eyes popped like yo-yo’s.
Thoroughly astonished at the spect
acle sprawled before him and at
the fact that 110 per cent of the
population were of the female var
iety, Percy beat a hasty retreat.
Outside, in the corridor, he re
read the sign on the door. He was
much relieved to find that “This
Room is for Recreational Reading
—it is not a Study Hall.’’
Percy sighed with both tonsils,
and went back into what he now
knew to be the Libe Browsing room.
“Mighty funny how some people
read with their eyes closed, mouth
open and heels higher than their
head,” he breathed as be eased
his hulk down beside a sleeping
After the davenport had molded
to fit him, Percy took a sofa’s-eye
view of the room. Over in the right
hand side of the left hand end of
the north terminus of the room
was a drowsing coed with a 1910
edition of Vogue in her hand. Ev
ery three minutes one eye would
open, squint at the fashions and go
to sleep again.
Hanging over one arm of the
chair was a head. Its body was
draped down the side and over part
crating in the same ultra-short
wave region as television.) As
global communication develops,
short wave alone will offer an ad
ditional field of activity as com
plete as that of television or radio
today. Short wave will become the
front line in the psychological war
fare to win the peace, perhaps.
By BILL BUELL
“Old Acquaintance” is a story of
love affairs as tangled as a restor
ation comedy and of undying
friendship that makes Damon and
company look like local 72 and the
We were surprised to learn that
the source of the script was neith
er the Good Housekeeping nor the
Woman’s Home Companion hut a
successful Broadway play. This
drama may well make a deep
and profound impression upon mid
dle-aged middle class housewives.
The picture glorifies the life
long friendship of two female nov
elists. Bette Davis writes good
books no one will buy. Miriam
Hopkins, motivated by sub-con
scious jealousy of her friend’s suc
cess, prolifically dashes off best
Miss Hopkin’s husband (John
Loder) falls in love with Miss
Davis. Miss Davis renounces his
offers because Miss Hopkins is her
best friend and “one just doesn’t
do that sort of thing.” Mr. Loder
politely removes himself by joining
Several years elapse. Miss Hop
kin’s daughter (Dolores Moran)
grows up into a sweet and brain
less young thing who falls in love.
But the young sheik whom she
loves (Gig Young) is practically
engaged to the cradle-snatching
Miss Davis. Miss Davis gallantly
renounces the dictates of her heart
and gives Mr. Young to Miss
The picture ends with the two
middle-aging novelists drinking
flat champagne and looking for
ward to a manless future. But
then, of course, they have their
Why the attractive and intelli
gent Miss Davis continues to put
up with the lint-brained and ego
centric Miss Hopkins is something
we never quite figured out.
In spite of the banal plot and
much corny dialogue “Old Ac
quaintance” is almost an excellent
picture. Director Vincent Sherman
makes the most of his inferior
script. Bette Davis, who could
make a good part out of anything
from Tarzan’s mate to a horse
opera heroine, turns in a typically
distinctive performance. John Lod
er also handles his job capably.
Miss Hopkins, however, ruins
many scenes by shrilly overplaying
her rather neurotic part. We’re
never quite sure when she’s serious
and when she’s burlesquing her
of the floor. This particular carcass
“Recreational reading',” sneered
Percy as he turned his head in the
other three directions and found
himself staring a yawning mouth
in the teeth.
“Come to think of it,” he added,
“Sleeping is recreation.” Survey
ing the other almost alive bodies
and deciding that he was too con
spicuous, took a Red Ryder Comic
book out of his watch pocket,
browsed through it and was soon
drowsing through it.
Browsing room or drowsing
room, that is the question, accord
ing to Percy. Oh, but if only Bill
Shakespeare were here!
BETTE DAVIS and
*lwa Qaad 9deal •. .
Hawthorne lodge and Highland house put across sotJjip
"open house” parties which seem to have hit the social nail on
This is what happened at Hawthorne. At their first mixer
this term, no turnout, no fun. A pow-wow showed that many
of the boys invited didn’t know how to dance. When the next
open house rolled around, soldiers and girls were learning dance
steps in droves and having a terrific time. Now they’re learning
to rhumba and conga!
Highland house solved the date problem for their house
this way. Having decided that three couples dancing in the liv
ing room didn’t constitute a good time, they proclaimed, and
put over an evening of darts, ping-pong, checkers, and just gab- '
This same idea has drifted through the campus before; the
campus canteen was started on the same principle. As one soldier
told us once, “We like to go bowling, and play games as weTTas
dance. When we’re off for the weekend we don’t go for a lot of
formality and artifical deals ...” M. M. G.
MARJORIE M. GOODWIN
Norris Yates, Joanne Nichols
Betty Ann Stevens
Mary Jo Geiser
Shirley Stearns, Executive Secretary
Shaun McDermott, Warren Miller
Bob Stiles, Sports Editor
Carol Greening, Betty Ann Stevens
Mary Jo Geiser, Staff Photographer
Betty French, Chief Night Editor
Elizabeth Haugen, Assistant Managing Editor
Published daily during the college year except Sundays, Mondays, and holidays and
final examination periods by the Associated Students, University of Oregon.
Entered as second-class matter at the postoffice, Eugene, Oregon.
Q. 9. Muscled....
So the hand-me-down ditty goes .. . “Sing a song of colleges.
Tell us were to go . . . Oxford where the knowledge is . . . Cor
nel where they row . . . Harvard with its bloomin’’ swells. Notre
Dame, and then, good old Princeton for its yells, and Ore-gon for
MEN. Snatched or adapted, the song had a bit of significance
last week when Oregon’s A.STU students were rated tops, phys*
ically speaking, in the nation in the performance of push-ups, sit
ups, pull-ups, ten-yard pick-a-backs, 300-vard run, not to men
tion the burpee. No, don’t forget the burpee.
Dean Ralph W. Leighton, of the school of physical educa
tion, says the University s rating' is superior to any of the nearly
50 units tested. That’s good.
* * % Sfc
Senior-sixer Edie Onthank whipped over the obstacle course
last year in cumbersome blue jeans and a t-shirt. She didn’t
establish a lecoid, but obstacles courses were strange . . . espC1
cially with girls running them. ’I he Emerald news editor rubbed
her hands together and muttered, “A feature!” Last year too,
moans and the stench of liniment arose from men’s living or
ganizations as compulsory p.e. was enforced.
Obstacle courses and burpee tests aren’t strange now.
1 he), re a paxt of the program and pattern of militarized student
life. It’s a well-ordered, rewarding pattern. B. A S.
• Striking Myrtlewood
• Playing Cards
Valleg Printing &
76 W. Broadway
To all you
students . . .