Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012, March 23, 1944, Page 2, Image 2

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to- the CdUoA.
To the Editor:
I have just returned from fur
lough in Portland and could not
help but feel how much more pleas
ant it would have been if all the
Friars and other kids from Ore
gon could have been there together
with me. I wish deeply they would
have. Ten days out of 365 at home
Isn’t ultimate happiness, but it
helps tremendously.
While I was home I got to see
Friars Roy Vernstrom and Dave
Silver. . . . Had one embarrassing
experience while in Portland, when
aboard one of the electric trolleys.
Two young kids of about five
boarded the car and sat next to
me. For a few moments they gazed
at the good conduct ribbon and
sharpsooter’s badge on my chest
(sure sign of the proud non-combat
soldier home on furlough) and then
one bravely interrogated in a voice
loud enough to be beard anywhere
on Kincaid street:
“Soldier, how many Japs have
you killed all by yourself?”
Before I could blushingiy explain
that the only thing of importance
I had killed thus far was U. S.
army time, by a fortunate coinci
dence I arrived at my destination
and so was saved from further em
barassing queries.
In San Francisco while walking
dow'n Market street I was sud
denly halted by two formidable
looking Waves, one of whom turned
out to be Mary Wolf, a classmate
in the journalism school. She’s do
ing some kind of public relations
work as a yeoman and is a good
representative of how a university
gal can help in the armed forces.
Am now back at my old desk,
where I'm doing signal corps
cryptography work keeping track
of and servicing our telephone
equipment at this field, and acting
as a drill sergeant and assistant
to the first sergeant of our detach
Right now, lor amusement, in
addition to writing a column and
features for the post newspaper,
I am taking part in the musical
comedy “Of Thee I Sing,” which
incidentally is the same show put
on at the University in place of a
canoe fete in ’42 . . . which is why
1 got in it. I'm Throttlebottom,
the vice-president, same as Jerry
Lukefish was for Oregon's show.
(Lust; I heard of him he was a
special service sergeant at Camp
White, by the way).
Don't meet many Oregonians in
these parts, but Saturday night
last did bump into Bill Gray, for
mer Oregonian writer and later
Time correspondent. (He's now
working out of L. A.) He came
through with a newspaper entour
age getting material for stories in
Time, Life, and other magazines
and papers on gunnery training for
air force men, and we bumped into
each other at a local hotel night
Headquarters Air Corps Gunnery
School, Las Vegas, Nevada.
Three girls were enjoying a se
lection by the orchestra.
"Isn't it divine! Wonder what
they’re playing?” said Madge.
"It's the sextette from Lucia,"
announced Tillie positively.
"No, it’s ‘Tales from Hoffman,’ "
persisted Annabelle.
"I think that you are both
wrong, but there is a card up
there I’ll go and see for myself,"
announced Madge, suiting the ac
tion to her words. She came
back triumphant.
“You’re ’way iff, girls! It's the
‘Refrain from Spitting.’ ”
Managing Editor
Advertising Manager
News Editor
Norris Yates, Joanne Nichols
Associate Editors
Betty Ann Stevens
Edith Newton
Mary Jo Geiser
Shirley Stearns, Executive Secretary
Warren Miller, Army Editor
Bob Stiles. Sports Editor
Mary Jo Geiser, Staff Photographer
Carol Greening, Betty Ann Stevens
Co-Women’s Editors
Betty French Robertson, 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.
R@dl G*iq4A> 2noia # • •
Oregon totaled over a quarter of a million dollars in the
fourth war bond campaign, and incidentally showed the other
schools of the nation what they could do when they really
started the ball rolling. That same ball should be taken out of
the emergency chest and put into action on the Red Cross
drive for membership. In this case the campus has to raise
only $1000 to meet the quota set by the authorities. But quotas
don’t mean much. They’re cold black figures on white paper.
The Red Cross means much more than that and it means much
more than merely meeting an arbitrary quota. It means backing
with whatever comforts are available the fighting our men and
women in service are doing.
Oregon can help in this humanitarian effort. One thousand
dollars would help; two thousand could help twice as much.
Oregon didn’t hold itself down to the quota on the bond drive,
with the result that as far as statistics are available, it topped
the nation’s schools in the campaign. Our school has established
a leadership in raising funds to back the attack and should
follow its own example in more than making a quota.
There are approximately 1400 students attending the Lni
versity. One dollar entitles each person to membership in the
Red Cross. If each student enrolled in the Red Cross the quota
would be more titan met. If even a part of these students would
contribute more for the aid and comfort of Oregon men and
women and others in the armed services, the quota could be
doubled or even tripled.
We’ve shown them that we could do it. Let’s show them that
we can keep on doing it by getting behind the Red Cross mem
bership drive and backing them for all they re worth, which is
a lot.—M.Y.
No *Ja’ Elections...
We have never been altogether sure of the attitude of most
students toward politics, so it is gratifying' to pull a letter out
of the heap on the editor’s desk which exhorts all students
who are of voting age to exercise their privilege.
"The privilege of voting in a free election is one of the pri
mary tenets of the democratic way of life. . . . We urge all stu
dents to register and apply for absentee ballots in ample time
before tire May 19 primary election. \\ e all may differ on men
and policies, but we would rather die than have "ja ’ elections
in America.”
The little group of students who were inspired to send this
letter have not stopped there. They are at present covering the
campus endeavoring to cause a greater number of adult stu
dents to register for voting than would otherwise do so. They
do not belong to any one political party; the)' are not doing this
from an)' ulterior motive. They are simply displaying a sense
of civic consciousness that every single American of thinking
age owes to his country and his community.
If all this means nothing' to you, then by all means don t
at the county clerk's office and the job is done. Surely the time
and effort expended is a small price to pay. Some may com
plain that the single puny vote which each possesses wields
so little influence, as to be not worth, casting. To these we an
swer: your little vote wields more influence and power than
any vote of anyone in any other country in the world. \\ ith
\ our slip of yellow paper in the ballot box lies, quite literally,
the destine of the globe. You may not think much of it—but
kings and princes and diplomats and general wait tensely to
see for which candidate your N ote was cast.
* * * *
If all this means nothing to you, they by all means don't
go to vote. If registration, and later voting are too much trou
ble, perhaps it won't lie too much trouble years from now to
report to the police every time you leave town, to go to the
polls at the point of a bayonet, or to march unwillingly in
street parades sponsored bv someone whom you hate, but whose
word is law in the land. Don't ever think it can’t happen here.
Briton After Blitz
Described in Novel
Everybody remembers the days of the Battle of Britain those anx
ious days, when breaths were held lest the great citadel should fall,
lest Hitler’s boast of “London by August 15th” should be made good.
The world bowed in admiration of the courageous spirit shown by the
British in that time of terror. Many brilliant descriptions have been
written of the holocaust, many tales told of the heroism displayed there.
But what happened after it was
all over ? How were the British
feeling when the Eighth army was
grappling with Rommel's forces
down in Tunisia, when Stalingrad
seemed well-nigh lost, when the
visiojn of the war’s end was cloudy
and bedraggled ? And what is more
important, how were the British
working? At the pace of victory,
or of defeat ?
Priestley answers these questions.
Here is what one of his characters,
a girl worker in an aircraft fac
tory, was thinking as she worked—
“Why, for instance, did we keep
on pretending that we were really
winning, when Germany and Japan
had got all those places and we
didn't seem able to push them out?
. . . It had been different in 1940,
when the JNazis naa saia tney
would bomb London and the people
didn’t want to give in. She under
stood all about that, had been in
it herself, and still felt a bit of a
thrill if anybody mentioned those
days. They had been rather aw
ful—and of course Madame (her
former employer) being bombed
out had just ruined everything—
but they had been exciting and not
at all miserable and boring.
“The trouble was, of course, that
she had had to start her life all
over again, you might say, and
somehow she had not got it proper
ly started even yet. Sometimes she
felt it would never get started.
Just as if she was really now not
much better than a ghost.”
Of course, not every person in
Priestley’s huge aircraft factory
felt exactly like this, but the lag
was there to some degree in almost
everyone. And this lag is the prob
lem of the book, the center of con
flict, though there are minor con
flicts, too.
In “Daylight on Saturday”
Priestley takes about 40 characters
(too many), tell what they’re
thinking about, what they do, and
their effect upon on eanother. He
starts at the top of the organiza
tion of the factory, and works
down to the lowest paid member of
the organization, and the most
cheerful one, a cripple who pushes
the tea-canteen around at appoint
ed hours. Through his movie-like
technique there are brief, clear
views into the personality of each
one of them.
There’s Elrick, works superin
tendent. His wife, whose mind was
reduced to that of a six-year-old
by an illness, cuts paper dolls, and
is his personal tragedy. He drinks,
in an effort to forget it, is admired
by those under him for his ability
and friendliness. Pretty faces haunt
him ... he is an unhappy man.
He hates the man he has to
work with—Blandford. This man
comes from an old English family
(Elrick rose from the ranks), is
able, cold, and somewhat blood
less in his outlook. His philosophy ?
“ ‘When 1 decided to take up
engineering, I gave my family
which up to then had only dealt in
country-house idlers, diplomats,
soldiers, politicians and a few civil
servants, a very severe shock. But
I notice that they’re not shocked
now. They’re almost relieved. Very
soon they probably will be relieved.
Why? Because they’re just begin
ning to realize that the effective
control of industry is a new and
undisputed source of power. Now
my class . . . may be stupid about
some things—their taste in litera
ture, for example, is appalling—
but they are wonderfully quick at
allying themselves with any new
power. Instead of fighting it, as so
many ot their kind abroad have
I tried to do, they get to know it,
they dine and wine it, they marry
it, and finally control it.
“ ‘This (new) industry already
had its own aristocracy. But of
course it’s not quite the real thing.
But once it’s linked with the old
er and more obvious forms, in
cluding of course all the victors
with glittering medals, a ruling-1
class that will look more like a
ruling class than any we’ve seen
since Waterloo, then the mob will
be only too glad to recognize the
real thing, and there’ll be no more
silly chatter about democracy.’ ”
And then there’s the Communist,
Mr. Ogmore, who dreams about
Soviet Britain; Nelly, who worries
about her face that’s off kilter;
Frieda, the society girl whose very
old family hasn’t a penny; Arthur
Bolton, whose family was wiped
out by a bomb; Mr. Stonier, who
is stark, staring, raving mad, and
dozens of others, all working to
gether under the colored netting
and painted walls of the camou
flaged air factory.
There are, of course, too many
characters to keep track of, and
this defect seems to keep the cli
max of the book from having any
real conviction, especially as this
climax seems to affect so few of
them directly. Then, the lovers,
Frieda and Angleby, are the only
two characters who seem wooden
in the whole book, and their ro
mance, featured largely, especially
at the end which helps to make a
sort of fading out of the book,
rather than a strong ending.
But on the whole, “Daylight on
Saturday” is important because it
portrays so many different stra tar
ot' thought in England today, and
a good book because Priestley
knows his subjects, and knows how
to write about them.
Ten words minimum accepted.
First insertion 2c per word.
Subsequent insertions lc per word.
Flat rate 37c column inch
Frequency rate (entire term) :
35c per column inch one time a
34c per column inch twice or more
a week.
Ads will be taken over the telephone on
a charge basis if the advertiser is a
subscriber to the phone.
Mailed advertisements must have suffi
cient remittance enclosed to cover
definite number of insertions.
Ads must be in Emerald business office
no later than 6 p. m. prior to the day
of insertion.
• For Sale
1930 Chev. Sedan ,good condition—
recently overhauled—good rub
ber. $125. Call 3200.
$17.50 Spaulding racket — very
good condition—sell for $5.00,
plus ad. Phone 349.
I : 1 ^
with Humphrey Bogart
— plus —
"Find the
with Jerome Cowan, Fay
Emerson, Gene Lockhart