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About Oregon daily emerald. (Eugene, Or.) 1920-2012 | View Entire Issue (May 11, 1945)
Politics Requires Gentlemen With the ending' of one war, the end of the other seems brought at least to this side of the horizon. The firing of the lasl shot is a long time ahead, hut now is a good a time as any to con sider the women’s accounting of their stewardship when those boys-turned-into-men shuck their uniforms and come back theii own. Since the war took most of the male element from the Univer sity the girls they left behind have had an opportunity to set what a man-less world could he like. The women have had tc amuse themselves. They have had to perform some functions tra ditionally considered the private property of men. The results speak for themselves. In politics the women,,far from cleaning things up, have ever outdone the blackest male political plotter. The campaigns and elections the women have engineered will he a source of amaze ment to the Returnees. Perhaps the last of the female ASUO pres idents goes out of office this spring after a faithful hut feminine job to which she gave her all without succeeding in uniting hei constituents. This is no reflection upon this official hut rather points to one of the characteristics of a feminine world, in which cooperation is developed by main strength and some form of bait or other. The political record is no surprise. It would he surprising had it turned out anyother way. Prior to the advent of national wom en’s suffrage the women were vociferous and even belligerent about how they were going to clean up politics. Some historians assert that the feminine influence not only failed to clean up poli tics but even went far to make the situation even less savorv. So the local women ran true to form. Publications, long a closed corporation among' males, have had girl heads, with varying success. Here again the croakers scent retrogression. "Without considering any other factor, rec ord.' show a lesser standard of accomplishment with the new or der. Cold records, however, do not show the reduced staffs and lack ot continuity of experience, factors which are dircctlv trace able to the war. and which show throughout the nation. Depending on the point of view, the women mav have lost some ground tor the men in student government, having dis turbed the balance of boards for which men have battled for a generation, and having abandoned certain principles evolved out of a similar period o! earnest and capable studv. The women have agreed the ASl O president should be paid next vear. a principle defeated time after time among men, who see the ASUO presi dency as a title with the kind of administration which is not really deserving of monthly pay. There can be no comparison be <\ ecu the work of an ASUO president and the amount of pure labor given by a publication head, for instance. All evidence to the contrary, this is no attack on the abilities or accomplishments of the women, bless ’em! But with the pos sible end ol the final war in sight, we point out that the coming year is probably the final opportunity to set the feminine-run house in order. \\ e otter the masculine viewpoint because we are unalter ably male, and because we did return. Our only thesis is to query whether the present feminine college generation feels it has taken care ot things for the men while the men were out taking care of bigger things. l'Acnse us. \Ve are getting under the desk.—B. J. i* Before We Reach Tokyo... C mol statistics remind us 2,000 men died fighting 24 hours In-lore the Armistice was signed in World War One. Those statistics crystallize one more reason for putting forth every effort until final defeat of Japan. Kverv hour that we can shorten this war will eliminate inhuman suffering humans have had to endure during the past four and one-half years. This war is distinguished from World War One in that there must he two major \ days before relaxing. For the war to ci ush Japan will he bigger, tougher, and longer than most Americans expect. Allied military estimates state it will he year>, not months. All of us want to shorten the dateline on that prediction. I here i> our reason for the biggest war bond quota to date— seven billion dollars, of which 4 billion is asked bv private in\ estments in "K" bonds. L'niversity of Oregon students have been asked to raise $1 OS.000 in four davs. Students have been asked to break record after record. After one student “war-effort" campaign is won, another assignment *s made. I hit it is that eftort and spirit of which victory is spun. I he more we do each day now will bring that second and final \ -day that much closer. Today is the final dav for the Ik ot (h s 7th war loan drive. More can not, need not. be said. Au expanded program of industrial nursing education through which graduate nurses may get the requirements of the bachelor ot science degree is offered this fall bv the school ol education, .New York university.—(ACP) Dream Souls I wish to build my dreams of clouds and air To raise my castle in Spain that far off land Where illusion floats like deep blue smoke to snare My mind in sleep and drag it forth like sand That flows through time's decaying glass of days. Alas, the sold of dreams are s'ent afar By logic which creeps with silent feet and slays To trace across my brain a hollow scar For dreams that died and killed a part of me. —DARRELL DANIEL BOONE Ashes to Ashes By BILL PATTERSON Junior Proms are the darndest affairs. Some people have their fun (a) before the dance, (b) during the dance, and (c) after the dance. Those who combine both (a) and (b) seldom, if ever, last to enjoy (c) . The most recent and severe case listed in the archives concerns Pierpont Nostril, a buffoon well known on the campus. Before the GommuHiCffUe Gambade By ‘COMRADE’ PUSHKIN JONES PAWTUCKET, May 11 —(Spe cial)—The Reds are sweeping the country! Lashed securely to their bound copies of “The Complete Works of Herbert Hoover,’’ sedentary senti mental conservatives are quaking in their boots for fear of impend ing defeat. This was the undeniable fact re ported here tonight as members of the Reds planned their campaign for this year—the most momentous in their history. “These characters trying to hold up our advance are nothing but a bunch of chicken-livered morons,” a high official was quoted as say ing, according to an authoritative source identified only as “Com rade X.” Reports from across the nation verified this optimistic announce ment. “They can’t be beat,” said a New York small-town businessman. “Invincible,” was another com ment. “They know how to get things done,” said another. And down on a small farm in the state of Arkansas, one farmer probably phrased what the whole nation was saying about the Red sweep better than any other single person. Quoth he: “These Rhode Island Reds just can't be beat." dance he utilized a light, slight, ant polite quantity of Passio-nola Punch an old Southern (Cal) drink. Neve: having tippled before it was poo: Pierpont’s undoing. . . . After a lurid appearance at th< prom our fortified hero rememberei that he hadn’t showered yet. Yes you guessed it. Downstairs in Mat court. And in his new Fred Meyei suit, too. Helping hands soon secured th< services of a passing poppy-eater Notorious in his own right, he’s at full of charm as a Xmas turkey. Ht was only too happy to escort th< young lady to her doorstep, when he bussed her soundly and returnee her to her thigh-slapping friends But who took Pierpont home ? Sunday noon the mystified youns man made a short personal appear ance, suffering .from an acute case of celery-poisoning (an occupation al disease of college men). Since that time he has been as scarce ae snakebite cure. He has disap peared. His intimates disagree as to his whereabouts. Some say he is hanging by his heels from the Burnside Bridge, searching for sub marines. Others contend that he hat gone llama hunting in Hendricks Park. The more radical school sug gests that he has gone to work, bul even they don’t sound convinced. Because the room rent is twe months overdue, his landlady is of fering a reward of one fur-lined drinking mug for his return. If you have information regarding the dis appearance of Pierpont Nostril, write it on the back of a valid “A" stamp and send it to me in care oi the Kappa Grist Mill. Men Thank AP, R-G The staff of the mens edition wishes to thank the Register Guard and the Associated Press for making available today’s wire service. Oregon Emerald JACK CRAIG . Editor WILL LINDLEY.Managing Editor GEORGE LUOMA . News Editor BUD JERMAIN, GEORGE LUOMA . Associate Editors PHIL DANA, JEAN MILLER . Men's Advertising Managers BOB CHAPMAN. Sports Editor Columnists: Bill Buell, Will Lindley, Hank Squires, Bill Patterson, Bill Sinnott, Jim Beyer, Stu Mercereau, Shubert Fendrick, Jim Windus, Charles Politz, Ervin Webb, Hugh King, Morrie Mink, Mark Howard. Reporters: Hank Squires, Robert Hinds, Elmer Sahlstrom, Harry Skerry, Phil Dana, Bob Schott, Norris Yates, Hugh King, Faber O'Hagen, Donald E. Turner, Harry Nordwick, Jim Osburn, Bud Bradley, Darrell Boone. City Desk Editors: Morrie Mink, Harry Lee, Don Reish, Fred Young, Herb Lazenby, Jim Beyer. Night Editor: Ervin Webb. Assistant Night Editors: Fred Young, Jim Beyer, and staff. Publish 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. On The Jazz Side By JI3I YVINDUS Have been asked by several peo ple why I don’t write this thing hi English. I tartly replied that I ad mit that I am not a Harvard man with a Back Bay accent, but that so far I have survived several Eng ; lish courses. Then I left in a fit of pique. (Say, what does that word mean, anyhow ?) But I will have to repent and write at least part of this in fairly readable English. My supply of = hemp, tea, weed, or what you will, I has run out, and am feeling rather normal. Expect a runner, with my . new supply, at any minute 4cw, . But until then, I shall carry on, or be carried out. Don’t knew which. , Damn these headlines. Feel rather commercial. Could even like Freddy Martin or cowboy , music, if given a hit on the head . with a large enough hammer. But to the context of my idea. , Seeing as how everybody, organ ization, drive, etc., has been having , a contest to determine who was the . prettiest among them, I have de , cided to have a contest of my own. , The winner will not get a prize, not j get a scholarship, will not get any thing, except her name in my col umn. Oh, large charge. Oh, yes. She . will get a title, of course. I will be “The Bwaanggggirl of the U. of O. or the Girl with whom I would rather spend a Thousand nights than a thousand days, with.” The qualifications are rather easy to fulfill. She must be female, or a reasonably accurate facsimile, attend the U. of O., have certain measurements that meet my speci fications, and be a girl. I expect all living organizations to enter a con testant. That is, girls’ organiza tions, nattly. Just send her pictflfe and measurements to. me. My secz’et juiy and I will cast a jaundiced eye over the group, and render our de cision. .Pardon me just a minute. My run ner just came in with my smokes. Quick, I'm dying. Puff, puff, ahh. Mrifsk. Urp. Feel a bit better. Which reminds me of a joke. There are four musicians riding along like mad in the larger type wagon when along comes the law. So, after pulling over to the curb and being given the effus for break ing many’s the limit, our men (all rhythm: skins, keys, git-box, dog house) let go with the following: “But, Jackson, this section never speeds.” Ha, ha. Just made a funny. Well, I like it. x jb I have had thousands of request3 to pick my favorite orch. But there is not enough space. There, aren't you sorry now for saying all those things about me? But tune in next week to see if Dick Tracy catches the Measles, or get kicked in the head, I hope; will Annie get the bus iness, or sumpin; will Spike Joues win the Esquire All-American band poll ? What have I done ? Mentioned Jones’ name in this sacred spot? Oh, the shane of it all. Joke: Two knocked' out musi cians are reading (yes, mydears, they can read) the latest Esquire, both being replete with peg-bottom pants resembling the latest thing in skiing attire, and ape-shape coats. Suddenly one of the two charaeffts emit, “Man, these jerks in here real ly get some weird styles.” Brifsk. I wonder why some enterprising business man doesn't open a spot near the campus, having a large juke box, thousands of cokes, etc., but no alcoholics, and a dance floor. Should make a small fortune. The back room of the Side would do, or even that large hole next to it. How about it, Roy? Of course, platters by Guy Lombardo, Ferdy Martin, Spike Jones (damn that name) and other Mickey Mouse bands would be banned. Well, this weed is just aboukshot, so will give up and go with the men in white.