Oregon
Emerald
MARJORIE M. GOODWIN
EDITOR
ELIZABETH EDMUNDS
BUSINESS MANAGER
MARJORIE YOUNG
Managing- Editor
ROSEANN LECKIE
Advertising Manager
ANNE CRAVEN
News Editor
Norris Yates, Joanne Nichols
Associate Editors
Betty Ann Stevens
EDITORIAL BOARD
Edith Newton
Mary Jo Geiser
Shirley Stearns, Executive Secretary
Shaun McDermott, Warren Miller
Army Co-editors
Bob Stiles, Sports Editor
Carol Greening, Betty Ann Stevens
Co-Women's Editors
Mary Jo Geiser, Staff Photographer
Hetty French Robertson. Chief Xigiit 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.__
*7he Beloved ^bean . r .
A week ago, on a gentle Sunday morning Dean Eric Allen
went out to trim the branches of one of the birch trees in his
front yard. His grade reports were in, his term’s work com
pleted, and there was a restful week ahead. He had a little
while before the Sunday papers came. A newsboy saw him
fall from the step ladder. Within a few moments the school
of journalism’s beloved dean and founder was gone.
And thus ended a complete life. The life of a man impossible
to forget, for his influence was and is now tangible—in the
nation, in Oregon, in the journalism school, and in the minds
of eight generations of University students.
* * *
The gratitude his students feel, their humble remembrance
of his genius for living is the perfect tribute and it is impossible
to transcribe into words.
His quick, three-cornered grin, and careful way he explained
Bacon’s essay “Of Studies’’ to each new editing class, the “by
Joves” and chuckles that accompanied his reading of the New
Yorker. The uncanny comments that he put on the front pages
of theses, indicating his understanding of an undeveloped fact,
or theme, or idea. II is kind, quiet effort to know his students’
past experiences in life—and to judge them accordingly.
The fight in him which carried him up to his last day
courageously in the face of great loneliness. '1 he fig'ht in him
that would not tolerate dishonesty or careless thinking—in
himself or in the students he guided.
Tittle impressions that will last and will affect our personal
memories of him.
* * * *
Students are not awed easily. They are particularly stern
about their emotions when a teacher is concerned. Thus it is
a tribute to Dean Allen that students were awed by his ability
to think through and into the problems and results of human
life the material which is the basis of fine journalism. And
they loved him. It was that simple.
He will be irreplaceable. This school of journalism was his
as surely as he conducted its business and guided its develop
ment through the years.
The Kmerald °t1 it<>i‘s. the journalism students who will know
him no more lost a great deal last week. 1*or as one student
said, ‘‘It seems to me that in the six months I’ve been in editing
I’ve grown up. I've changed in the way that I go at things,
I've found out how to get nearer to the truth.”
The students who heard him lecture and discuss the postwar
world, those who followed his discussions of military tactics
last year and so back over thirty-two years, know what they
have lost. There is emptiness in the familiar "shack” and no
smell <>f a pipe in the dean's office.—M.M.tT
Tributes
(Continued from f>a<ie one)
managers will be unable to go to
the dean with their problems . . .
or to imagine an Emerald banquet
without the dean’s wealth of shack
stories . . . or an editing class try
ing to see the problems of the
world without a word of the dean's
lilt alistic realism.
* # *
Governor Hurl Snell In tIre
passing of Dean Eric W. Allen,
Oregon has lost a distinguished
citizen who in his quiet way ex
cited a profound influence for
good. Several generations of news
paper men and women, leaders
now in public affairs, both within
the state and in the national field.
w> -e inspired by his lofty ideals of
service, his upstanding character,
h. profound knowledge, and his
conception of the responsibilities
of the profession to which he gave
a lifetime of outstanding devotion.
* * *
Harris Kllsworth, representative
in congress, fourth Oregon district
Dean Kric W. Allen was a very
true friend. He was here when 1
came to the University as a fresh
man in 1917. Being a student under
Dean Allen was not something to
be ended with the receiving of a
college degree. Many of the for.
tunate breaks of my career after
graduation were due to the dean’s
friendship and influence.
* * *
l>r. Frederick M. Hunter, chan
cellor, Oregon state system of
higher education Dean Allen's
passing is a matter of deep per
sonal grief to me. I regard his
'work in the school of journalism
as a very potent factor in the un
usually high level of public opinion
in Oregon.
Dr. Orlando J. Hollis, acting
president of the University of Ore
gon—Eric W. Allen has served so
long and so ably as dean of the
school of journalism that it is diffi
cult to think of the University’s
continuing without him. His influ
ence upon the practice of journal
ism in this state has been exten
sive. His former students are found
on the staffs of most of the news
papers in Oregon. He was a con
stant stimulus to his colleagues,
because of his broad and under
standing reading in a surprising
number of fields. Dean Allen was
the type of teacher who gives to a
University its own distinguished
character.
Palmer Hoyt, publisher, Port
land Oregonian—In the passing of
Dean Eric W. Allen the state of
Oregon has lost another of its
great men. Eric Allen, founder and
head of the University of Oregon
school of journalism, built a great
school and achieved a national
reputation. Dean Allen had the
confidence of the state’s working
newspapermen to a degree prob
ably held by no other journalism
school head in the country. He was
loved and respected. He will be
sorely missed.
Carl C. Webb, manager, Oregon
Newspaper Publishers’ association
Dean Allen's contribution to the
field of journalism and to the
newspapers of Oregon has been
most profound. Principles indoc
trinated in his classrooms have
been felt in hundreds of newspaper
offices.
W. F. G. Thacher, professor of
English and advertising — It was
my privilege to be closely associ
ated with Eric Allen for 30 good
and fruitful years. His loss, com
ing so soon after that of his dear
wife, Sally, is almost insupport
able. There are many tributes I
could pay to Eric, but the one
unique eulogy is written not in
words but in lives—the lives of his
students and associates, to whom
he was an exciting challenge, a
brilliant inspiration, and a friendly
counselor. There can never be an
other Eric Allen.
George Turnbull, professor of
journalism -This loss of one who
has been a friend for nearly 40
years and an associate in news
paper work and teaching for close
to 30 years leaves me incapable of
expressing adequately my personal
grief or my appreciation of a chief
whose ideas and ideals and under
si anding encouragement made my
work with him and for him a hap
py experience. In the capacity to
apply to practical problems the
ripe scholarship of a keen and ac
tive intellect, I have known few
if any to equal him. He inspired
his students tremendously with his
own alert intellectuality, and many
of them are realizing more and
more fully all he has done to build
them into worthy, effective journ
alists.
Warren Price, associate pro
fessor of journalism Dean Eric
W. Allen, with the late Walter
Williams of Missouri and the late
Willard G. Bleyer of Wisconsin,
was one of three pioneers who did
more to establish instruction for
journalism among American state
universities than any other men.
* a: >1:
Hubert <’. Hall, associate profes
sor of journalism, superintendent
of the University Press—I have a
deep sense of appreciation of the
privilege of a long friendship with
Dean Alien. I recall his very great
part in the development of the
University Press. The dean was a
great fellow to let people work on
their own, hut always in the back
ground was the dean and his un
derstanding support.
Jdettefri to the oaUtan. ^
Somewhere in Italy—PFC Ray J. Schrick, to Yuba ' ity
Herald, forwarded to Dean Onthank by his wife Betty j ;
Schrick.
;}c :*c *
Somewhere on the Atlantic—sometime in December:
I am now an ocean-going soldier and more than ever I know
why I didn’t join the navy. It's really not the water that is
so had—;?nd even at the base I didn't use many passes—but
at least I could go some place
when I wanted to. Ships may look
big, but they get awfully small
when you’re on them very long.
First off (knocking on a steel
girder) I am not sick. We’ve had
a couple fairly rough days too. . . .
Life aboard is quite an experience.
Living in the hold, I’ve been as
close to cattle existence as I ever
hope to come. Names, numbers,
and positions are a military secret,
but suffice to say our sea bunks
are six deep and if you raise to
move more than a 30 degree angle
your head smacks the guy on the
bunk above.
Recreation, naturally, is very
limited. Out in the center of our
hold is a good-sized clearing which
serves as the center of our social
life, namely, games of chance.
Cpl. Bly, Pfc. Nagway, Sgt. Estoin,
Pfc. Kroust and myself have
formed a corporation. So far we
are lucky on odd numbered nights
and unlucky on even numbers, so
we manage to keep debts on an
even keel. As we say, we don’t
make much money, but we have a
heck of a lot of fun.
The biggest trouble is the water.
. . . Just try working up a lather
with ordinary soap in salt water
sometime. The laundry situation is
rather interesting. There are about
four lines hanging over the star
board side. Whenever you want to
wash, you just tie your clothes to
a rope and heave them over. Na
ture and the salt water then take
their course.
One of the fellows in our squad
ron used to be a barber and he
does a booming business . . . few
of the fellows have blossomed out
with pig shaves but even though
my darling wife be thousands of
miles away I wouldn’t go for that.
When we boarded ship the air
corps band was there, seeing us
off, and the Red Cross women
served coffee. . . . Those were a
tough few minutes when the band
played “For Me and My Gal.” . . .
It was very much like the movies - -
except it wasn't.
We eat two meals a day aboard
ship. You really don't have time
for more and you spend most of
jour time in line as it is. . . . We
got Christmas bags from the Red
Cross the other da>', darn practical
gifts. . . . One thing about this trip,
the army has us well supplied with
books and magazines. . . . Now that
we are getting into the war we
don’t know how it’s going—sort of
a case of not seeing the forest be
cause of the trees. Maybe it will
be different when we get ashore
again.
Somewhere in Italy, January 10,
1944:
. . . For a fellow who had never
been east of Indiana prior to last
Thanksgiving the ’ rush of three
continents in one month lias been
quite an experience. . . .
ltalj- is quite a place. It’s hard to
believe just how hungry the people
are, but they certainly go after the
American soldier. We’re all Joe to
them, why 1 don’t know. The
Yanks are great ones to throw
money around and the Italians are
quick to learn. Most prices are or
were ..extremely low .from ..our
standpoint. The Yank can’t stand
to give so little, so he gives extra
cigarettes, extra monej-, etc., and
the next thing we know prices are
about double.
One incident really impressed me
in Africa, when we first came
ashore. We had box lunches and
one fell on the ground. It was
kicked around in dirt and mud for
a few minutes but • . . . one of the
Decline and Fall
Hitler in his twilight ... In an j
old Munich beer cellar the German i
dictator spoke from his rostrum |
before the few surviving stalurSMhj
of the National Socialist German
Worker’s party. Twenty years had
elapsed since the first brown shirt
putsch had fallen ingloriously be
fore a brief blaze of machine gun
bullets. A world had changed in
those twenty years, but today the
atmosphere was much the same as
it had been on November 9, 1923.
Defeat was in the air. But this
time there would be no escape, no
way out. There would be no Luden
dorff to stand between him and
death, no Hindenburg to lighten
his sentence. For Ludendorff and
Hindenburg were dead, and gone
too were Roehm and Strasser and
most of the old “partei.” To f
the new inescapable debacle only
the leader and a few intimates
remained.
A great saga was drawing to a
close, an epic written in blood and
iron. In the course of that epic
there were realized the wildest
dreams of modern man. The under
dog from Tyrol had become the
master singer of Europe and called
a continent to arms against the
might of the communized East. A
new flag had been run up from the
Brown House in Munich. Thence
its banners were pushed North,
South, West and East, until the
swastika flew from the northern
most fjords of Norway south to
the Bay of Biscay, and from the
Channel coast of France to the
banks of the Volga. The gray
green tide had indeed outdone the
legions of Napoleon.
But now their days were num
bered. From three directions tha
awful might of allied vengeance
was slowly closing in. The die had
beeen cast, only time remained. -
An uneasy silence fell on the
group of listeners that afternoon in
Munich. For them the dictator gave
no more promises of victory, no
new hopes. There would, he said,
be no victor; only the survivors
and the dead. .—
FRANCIS M. FROELICHER, Jr.
Feb. 10. Co. C., ASTU 3920
ragged Arabs spied it. He picked
up the bread and cheese and didn’t
mind the dirt at all as he munched
a way.
In Italy, kids, and grown men,
too, often stand around while we
eat; then if anything is left when
we’re though, we just dump it in
a can they carry, and they have a
meal. Most of the Italians are very
friendly. It is very surprising to
see little kids down to 5 or 6 smok
ing. They seem to be more enter
prising than their parents . . . and
are around most of the time
their wares of almonds, apples and
oranges.
January 14:
. . . Last night I got my first
candy bar for the week (an Oh
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