Oregon W Emerald
ANNE CRAVEN
Editor
ROSEANN LECKIE
Business Manager
ELIZABETH HAUGEN
Managing Editor
FRANNIE MAIER
Advertising Manager
MARGUERITE WITTWER
News Editor
LOUISE MONTAG, PEGGY OVERLAND
Associate Editors
EDITORIAL BOARD
Edith Newton, Carol Cook
Betty Lou Vogelpohl, Executive Secretary
Betty French Robertson, Women’s Editor
Winifred Romtvedt, Assistant News Editor
Darrell Boone, Photographer
Jean Lawrence, Assistant Managing Editor
Assistant Managing Editors
Gloria Campbell, Pat McCormack,
Librarians
Betty Bennett, Music 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._
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tyo-l 'Wame+t Only . . .
With all due respect to the men on the campus, it is only
fair to say that the Oregon coeds are not inspired. Recently,
there have been rumors to the effect that professors on the
campus declare that the girls’ attire is getting sloppier and
sloppier.
The coeds have been accused of going back to the high school
fad of dirty shoes—of wearing kerchiefs tied mammy style
around pin-curled heads—of wearing kerchiefs tied peasant
.style to class and never taking them off—of being careless
about wrinkled skirts—of buying sweaters four sizes too big-—
of disarranged hair styles—of somewhat obscene language—
but worst of all, of a lackadaisical, devil-may-care feeling toward
studying in general. And most of these accusations are true!
A great number of the girls ARE careless about their ap
pearance and attitudes. Why not? As one coed so aptly ex
pressed herself, “Why should I waste my time trying to look
neat or pretty? There isn’t anyone here to see me. Sometimes
in big classes there are three hoys. In the small classes the
boys are scared out. I don’t care HOW I look.”
A prominent University professor summed up his opinion
of the situation by commenting, “The girls are. not putting
forth their best work any more. When the boys were here, the
competition between them was a driving power toward higher
grades, belter work, and all types of bitter contests. Without
this rivalry, the coeds don’t really know what they are capable
of accomplishing.”
Jt is unfortunate that such a situation must exist. Although
not all coeds have fallen into the abyss of slackness about their
appearance, it is impossible to compute accurately how many
have been affected by the lack of scholastic competition. It
will he a field day for professors and coeds alike when the
inspiration returns.—B.K. 1\.
^Icdie to the IdJaUzA.. . .
“Let’s cut across.’’
It’s become almost a game at Oregon in the last few years
to see how many walks you can avoid and how many neat,
green patches of grass you can trample down on the way
across the campus.
Walks criss-cross conveniently on the quadrangle in front
of the libe. Students take to the grass. There’s a beaten brown
path in back of the drama shack. The square between Oregon
and Commerce becomes a slippery mass of mud on a rainy day.
It isn’t the administration of the University that has been
neglecting the walks. The school paid out $8000 last summer
to repair and improve the various campus by-ways. Improve
ments were made on those between the music school and the
art museum, the YA1CA and Oregon, and Oregon and Deadv.
Paving was put on three of the campus parking strips.
Two women workers kept the grass trimmed and watered
all summer. The familiar drone of the mowers proves that
there is no neglect now.
We think that Oregon has beautiful grounds. Kven the armv
trainees, who griped about the rain, the buildings, the girls, the
professors, and almost everything related to the school, ad
mitted that Oregon had a good "setting.”
We’re the ones who can keep it that way. Most of the
shortcuts we take save us very little, if any, time. The walks
are direct and much cleaner and safer.
Occasionally the gardeners rope off the especially bad sec
tions of the campus to help the struggling grass along. They
twine someone’s worn-out woolies around the rope to make
it visible at night. It isn’t very attractive.
Take a look at an Oregana for 1941-42 and see how Oregon
looked with a field of mud in front of the libe and around the
art museum. We'll guarantee it won’t look that way again if
you take to the walks.—L.S.M.
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Nuf Sed
By CHAS. POLITZ |
AN EVENING WITH MR. BRICKER—I
(Mr. Politz writes his subjective account of the night
of October 12.)
There was quite a commotion at Eugene’s railway station
Thursday night.
There was a silo-shaped elderly lady with a broad blue liat
splashed with white feathers and a small satchel and knitted
shopping bag walking up and down waiting for a train.
On tne second trade was a nortn
bound troop train draped at the
windows with white and negro sol
diers. In front of Track 1 were
about 500 students of the Univer
sity raising a hell of a racket.
They were down to meet a fellow
who they were told would turn out
to be Governor Bricker; and they
seemed determined to prove to this
happily-married, pre-middle-aged
man whom very few of them knew
personally, that altho he wasn't
Sinatra, they could go just as mad
over him.
A splash-color picture of the
scene looked something like this:
Signs all over the place — big
signs—little—pa-per signs and some
on canvas—rectangular—and some
sodacrackerbox shape. Crowd —
packed — jammed — music —
cheers -— assorted gulps and gur
gles —• people coming in little
groups of ten or fifteen to add to
the mass already there like drops
meeting with the rainbarrel. Signs
pasted on cars—convertibles with
tiers of cheese-caked legs. One
bunch of girls came in a big blue
car splashed with Bricker banners.
They were carrying Roosevelt
signs.
“By Their Signs . . .
Some of the signs said—Get On
The Bandwagon—People’s Choice
— We're For You Bricker — Our
Man Brick -and the nostalgically
poetic, Don't Be A Kicker—Vote
For Bricker!
Out in front of the crowd that
swayed and squirmed—mewed and
cooed—or blasted out, in tempo
with the prevailing mood, was the
biggest collection of white sweat
ers, skirts, and pants that we can
remember seeing since that time
centuries ago when the Royal
Rosarians all had theirs bleached
and dry-cleaned. Some were
Kwamas, others members of the
rally squad, others we don’t know
just what, but they all had religion
and were whooping it up to beat
all get out.
They sang and danced and
clapped, ran up and down bounc
ing on their toes, twisting their
fluid bodies into all sorts of jump
ing shapes, Dotson’s sound truck
with its four amplifiers* looking
like a cluster of artichokes blared
cavalry marches and Oregonourai
mamater wewillguardtheeonandon.
The dustytan railway police with
big silver stars started pushing the
crowd back to clear the track—
but a subtle foreshadowing of what
was to come later. Torches on long
poles were lighted too, seemed ra
ther a waste without marshmal
lows and weinies as they were
little more than glowing embers
when the big time came.
Plaid shirts — magenta sweaters
— swirling blonde hair — topcoats
— beanies ■— shirttails out — crew
cuts — jeans -— pleated swish
• Lost
A HANDMADE Australian coin
bracelet between McArthur court
and train depot. Valued as a
keepsake. Call 1798-R.
JdetteM.
To the Editor
To the Editor:
To me the coming election is all
important. To me it will tell
whether there is going to be a last
ing peace and no world depression
after the war. I am an Independent
c-n the campus and in politics. I
am for Roosevelt because I do not
believe Dewey has enough back
ground to be able to cope with the
tremendous problems that will
arise after or during the war.
But Mr. Chas. Politz doesn’t
seem to realize how important this
campaign is. He is more interested
in making juvenile, satirical re
marks about the Young Demo
cratic party; remarks that have no
bearing on the issues involved; re
marks that show a general lack of
knowledge of good college news
paper policy.
Slurring remarks on a campus
organization shouldn’t black mark
a college newspaper, especially
when the organization is merely
exercising its democratic right to
hold a meeting and isn’t doing any
harm except to the Republican ego
of Mr. Chas. Politz.
I’ve noticed that the Emerald
does not have a section for com
ments from the students, lack of
room or lack of courage are two
good reasons.
BARBARA GENE
(The Emerald will print any
pertinent letters sent or given to
the editor in the column “Letters
to the Editor,’' and a number
have already been published. The
Emerald welcomes such contri
butions as evidence that students
are thinking about the various
issues before them. All letters
should be signed by the person’s
full name.—Ed.)
skirts —• culottes •— here and there
a date dress on a sly, smooth one-—
dirty cords—clicking heels walking
up and down — tension — expecta
tion on 500 anxious faces—all wait
ing for the big moment . . . would
the Life photographer really come ?
(Tomorrow: He Came)
Ho-Hum
By ORIN WEIR
As the name implies, Ho Hum is
a sleepy column dedicated to the
purpose of passing on a few yawns
of what’s going on around here and
about our green campus.
Bob “Gay Dog” Caviness seems
to be a lonesome stranger at the
house on the hill—namely, Tri
Delta. Seems the handsome lad
spent a great evening stagging
(that means using other men’s
brew and women) while fair maid
en Marilyn Rakow unhappily
dunked hamburger at Frankie
Wills. Could be it caused a crack
in a blooming friendship.
Attention!
Seeing as Herb Hoffman com
plains of never seeing Herb Hoff
man’s name in Herb Hoffman’s
school paper, we dedicate this
paragraph to Herb Hoffman with
hopes Herb Hoffman will get on
the ball and plant one of Herb
Hoffman’s pins so Herb Hoffman’s
great name will break into print!
Happy now, Herb?
What's this rumor floating here
and there about DG Yvonne Pra
ther and big Sam Hardy, SAE
lad, spending their idle moments
hand in hand. Thought Sam was
too occupied showing off his etch
ings to ever get tied down. _
Pin-Plants V
That youngster with the big
smile happens to be “Buck” Schott,
DU, who is out courtin’, day and
nite, with sweet Kappa pledge,
Mary Ellen Struve.
Sally “Right behind you, Terry”
Timmons, a Gamma Phi pledge,
seems to be totally infatuated by
house boy, Terry Carroll. Some say
it’s some sort of a shadow game,
but thus far no one has explained
the rules.
Talent Scout
Out in search of campus talent
is mighty Jim McGregor, Sigma
Nu from .USC. What type of tallKt
has not yet been divulged, but Jim
appears to be having a great time
of it.
Let’s all gather about and gaze
at Alpha Phi Sue Welch’s new
Sigma Chi jewelry which came via
OSC and Hawley Gilbert.
Ho Hum has a bit of everything,
and just now we slow down to
repeat a fat gripe brought to our
attention; namely that of fellas
wearing hi-school numerals on the.
campus. But, of course, almost
quoting the griping group, they’re
either too young or too old! Ho
Hum ....
The bald eagle is not really bald.
He has a white head of snowy fea
thers which gives the impresari
from a distance of bald-headed
ness.
Kora's Bakery
Phone 71
1