Have A Neutron?
For two days Gamma Alpha Chi has been peddling apples;
tomorrow the University dames will sell cookies.
This outbreak of hucksterism brings to mind what we
think is a fine idea.
Most people are hungry most of the time. Right?
And most folks enjoy eating whether they are hungry or
not. Check.
Then why not have canteens stationed about the campus
all year? Clubs and honoraries would take turns managing
them.
Sigma Xi could sell candied neutrons, and Phi Beta Kap
pa, baked beans in ice cream cones.
Possibilities are limitless. For instance, if professors do
not want to assume their club duty of food vending, they may
wish to offer extra credit to any student who will take over
for them.
Ah, yes. A fine idea. B. H.
In My Opinion
To the Editor:
In answer to the “Druids’ Cor
ner” in yesterday's Emerald I
would like to say that there are
a “few" students on the campus
who favor the new “DuShane”
plan, taking cognizance of all the
points prp and con, we still fa
vor it. We believe that it can be
worked out successfully with both
Greek and Independent students
cooperating and solving their
problems through a central, or
ganization representing ■ both
sides. This organization would
attack the problems from an
adult viewpoint and forget the
petty differences between the two
“rival” organisations.
We would strongly suggest that
Greeks who would know more of
life in the dorms come a-calling
so that we can show them that
we live a great deal as they do,
observing University rules and
providing good study conditions,
etc. It is pretty sad when a grad
uating senior who wears a pin
can say with all truth that she
has never been inside a dorm on
this campus, and there are five
girl dorms which are open to vis
itors almost any time. We would
suggest that they contact Mrs.
Turnipseed for information * on
the new dormitory and how it
will be administered. If there is
anyone who can give students a
true picture of doritory life, it
is Mrs. Turnipseed who is not
anti-Greek.
The plan gives both the frater
nities, sororities and independent
living organizations an opportun
ity to rebuild themselves into or
ganizations of which to be proud.
Competition will undoubtedly re
main as strong, but the basis will
be changed from one of social
consciousness to one based on
scholarship and activities which
are, after all. the primary objec
tives of a college education. As
long as the administration feels
it necessary to make this change,
it is up to all the students to put
forth more than a feeble effort to
make it successful.
Jeane Nunn
Gamma Hall
To the Editor:
I wish to commend the editors
of the Pigger’s Guide for their
excellent job of compiling perti
nent data concerning the campus
citizenry. My first casual glance
® disclosed by one error—a small
and insignificant error consider
ing the magnitude of the compi
lation. That small error is a mis
placed asterisk in front of my
name.
Being a law student, that error
will not interfere with my ac
tivities to the extent it might
with a liberal arts or business ad
ministration major. My weekends
are usually spent in musty stacks
of the law library, peering with
blood-shot eyes through shelves
of Corpus Juris and Supreme
court reports, and through the
vine-covered windows, where I
catch sight of the light-hearted
lads wending their merry way
with a gleam in their eye.
I bear no hard feelings toward
the editors of the campus direc
tory. Possibly the error was my
own—a misplaced check mark on
a card during the registration
rush would have done it. But
whatever the cause, the deed has
been done, giving rise to awful
implications.
I would like to make a state
ment in defense of chivalry and
University of Oregon manhood in
general, and me in particular. To
my companions on those rare oc
casions when I have broken away
from the Fenton hall monastery
for an evening—it ain’t so! THE
ASTERISK SHOULD NOT BE
THERE!!!!!
Jack L. Hoffman
Law School Senior
Rummage Sale
Rummage is wanted for the Eu
gene branch of Oregon Mothers’
sale November 2G and 27, according
to Mrs. Ann Porter. Proceeds from
the sale will go to the society’s
scholarship fund.
Rummage will be picked up next
Tuesday. For information call Mrs.
J. H. Jackson at 1322-R or Mrs.
A. C. Stockstead at 2195-J.
Oregon If Emeu/vu
The Oregon Daily Emerald. published daily during the college year except Sundays,
Mondays, holidays, and final examination periods by the Associated Students, University of
Oregon Subscription rates: $-*.01) per terra and $4.00 per year. Entered as second-class matter
nl the post office, Eugene, Oregon.
BILL YATES, Editor VIRGIL TUCKER, Business Manager
Bob Reed, Managing Editor Tom McLaughlin, Adv. Manager
Associate Editors: June Goetze, Bobolee Brophy, Diana Dye, Barbara Hey wood,
* ~ UPPER BUSINESS STAFF
Beth Miller, Circulation Mgr. Virginia Mahon, Assistant Adv. Mgr.
Eve Overbeck. Nat’l Adv. Mgr. Donna Brennan, Asst. Adv. Mgr.
Sally Waller. Assistant Adv. Mgr. lack Sclinaidt, A art. Adv. Mgr.
Joan Mimnaugh, Assistant Adv. Mgr.
Mike Callahan. Stan Turnbull
Co-News Editors
Clenti Gillespie. Sports Editor
Bob Funk, Church Editor
UPPER NEWS STAFF
Don Smith. Assistant Managing Editor '
Evelyn Xill and Ann Goodiuau
Assistant News Editors
Tec Arthur, Research Assistant
American
AIRLANES
TOM MARQUIS
The elevator stopped and the
doors slid open without a sound.
To my right as I walked out
there was a double glass doorway
marked KGW. It was about 10
p.m. and the place was pretty
quiet. Wandering down the hall
way I started to see if I could
raise anyone who could tell me
something about the station set
up. Looking in the glass panels
set in the doorways I could see
that several studios were still in
the process of construction. The
whole place had that new build
ing look and smell.
At the end of the hallway was
a door with a green exit sign over
it. On the door itself was a card
board sign that announced to all
who were interested that on the
other side of the door lay the
news and sports section. This
seemed like a good place for a
visiting journalist to begin.
I opened the door rather cau
tiously, not quite knowing what
to expect. It was a waste of time
to worry because I found two of
the nicest guys you’d ever want
to meet.
One of them was Rudy Lachen
meier, KGW sports editor, and
the other was Wally Hunter,
news and sports bureau editorial
assistant, and a former Emerald
sports editor. When I told them
I was interested in finding out
how they assembled their news
and sports copy for presentation
they went out of their way to
enlighten me.
It seems that there.is a lot of
individuality involved in this sort
of thing, with the different an
nouncers using several different
styles. In Rudy’s case informal
ity is the keynote. But only in
broadcasting, not in the gather
ing of the material used.
Right up until broadcast time,
the latest information from the
teletypes is scanned, and if
worthy is included in Rudy’s
nightly spoils round-up. The copy
is torji right from the teletype,
assembled in some sort of order,
(known only to the two doing
the assembling) and then perti
nent and sometimes impertinent
remarks are scribbled on the bot
tom of each sheet. This whole
confusing bundle is carried in to
the studio and the program is
about to begin.
Wally took me around to the
control side of the mike and in
troduced me to announcer Frank
Billings. From the booth where
Frank held forth it was easy to
watch Rudy’s broadcast.
The material for the broadcast
had not been read over previous
to air time, a thing that would
horrify many announcers. It didn’t
seem to bother Rudy much. He
just went ahead with the broad
cast in his own special fashion.
A fashion, incidentally, which
has won him many fans through
out of the Pacific Northwest. The
program went off smoothly and
■without a hitch, which seemed
quite surprising in the face of
what I had witnessed previously.
After the sign-off I started to
talk radio with Frank Billings.
Before we got very far on the
radio side we discovered we had
a mutual friend in the business
at KIST in California. Conse
quently we didn’t do much more
talking about radio, because the
conversation rapidly turned into
a general bull-session.
Anyway I learned a little bit
and managed to have a real fine
time in the process. For which I
am indebted to three swell guys,
Rudy Lachenmeier, Wally Hun
ter, and Frank Billings. Thanks,
fellows.
-Out of Focus
Columnist Has Answer for Those
Who 'Slopped His Hands'
For those who wrote in to the
editor and slapped our hands for
suggesting' that professors are
human, we have this encouraging
bit of information: Students are
human, too. Some are bad, some
are good, some are here to learn
and some are just here to get a
degree. All of which brings us up
to the story of Bill.
Or was his name Pete? Or
George? Or Joe, Scotty, Slim or
Keith ? Well, Bill is a good
American name, so probably it
was Bill.
You know Bill pretty well. He
sits right next to you in several
of your classes; or at least he
does when he comes to class.
Perhaps you hadn’t noticed him
before, because he rarely makes
much noise or adds much to the
class discussion.
Bill got by pretty easily in
high school but when he came to
college everyone told him that
he'd have to buckle down and
study or he'd never make it. For
the first couple of terms, he did
study pretty hard but then he
discovered that it really wasn’t
much different from high school.
So he came to the conclusion that
there wasn’t much point in break
ing his neck getting A’s and B's
when C’s were just as good. All
he wanted was the sheepskin.
He sat in the classes that he
went to and gazed out the window,
or doodled on his notebook. And
some of those doodlings were
pure works of art. Intricate,
complicated, artistic designs. Bill
listened to the professors once in
a while . . .jjust enough to get the
drift of things . . . just enough
to get by.
Bill didn’t pay too much atten
tion to what his professors said
until the end of the hour when
they made an assignment. Then
you should have heard him howl.
He really griped and moaned
about how mudh work he had to
do. But he soon forgot about it
and never did get around to read
ing the assignments.
Well, Bill wasted his own time,
his professors’ time, and his
dad’s money for four years of col
lege. Of course, it wasn’t really
wasted when you stop and consid
er because his dad figured that it
was worth the money to keep him
out of trouble and, after all, the
professors were getting paid for
their time and there were enough
students in the classes who really
wanted to learn something to sat
isfy any professor’s love for
teaching. As for Bill’s time, it
never was worth much, anyway.
Oh, you’re already guessing
what happened to Bill. You’re :
about to predict that he gradu- ]
ated all right but missed out on
that big job because he hadn’t ]
worked in school. Well, that’s
what happened to many like 1
Bill, but not our boy.
You see, our Bill graduated, ^
but when he got out of school, he
The Latest
In Books
A quitter? Or possessed of un
usual courage? What would you
call a man who, after experienc
ing a contemporary life and com
ing to hate it, withdraws into
monastic seclusion? In the fear
and uncertainty of the atomic
age, thousands of young people
are asking the question, Is it
best to leave this mess?”
“The Seven Storey Mountain”
is the autobiography of a young
man who led a full and worldly
life, and then, at the age of 26,
entered a Trappist monastery.
Thomas Merton, the author, was
no precocious child saint. He is
a man of his times—one of our
generation—growing up in the
period between two wars.
Merton’s childhood was spent
wandering over France, England
and America with his artist par
ents. Religious training? He had
none. He never attended church
until he was fifteen. At Cam
bridge and Columbia, Merton
lived the usual college boy life of
the late 1930’s. He got drunk, fell
in love often, cut classes, sat in
beer-joint intellectual discussions,
even became a Communist. Only
a few times did he think of God
or religion—when his father died
and when he fell ill and feared
death.
Aldous Huxleys -'.tunas ana
Means” and the “Confessions of
St. Augustine” started him think
ing of religion. He was converted
to Catholicism. After several
years of pondering and doubting
and backsliding and soul-search
ing he entered the Trappis't order
at Gethsemani, Kentucky. This
period of doubt makes the title.
The Seven Storey Mountain is
Dante’s image of purgatory.
Conversational style and collo
quialism make the book easy to
read. In fact, it’s the familiar
colloquial bull-session. Merton be
comes defensive: “I mention this
with full consciousness that some
one will use it against me . .
Like the bull-session, there is no
charity once the “discusser” has
made up his mind—he refuses to
concede that another view has
its merits. And, like all college
intellectual discussions, long tales
of totally irrelevant personal his
tory come in—told simply become
they make good stories. Most un
fortunate, like many collegians,
Merton reserves his greatest re
spect for those who agree with
him.
One thing will never happen
when you read “The Seven Storey
Mountain”—you won’t lay it
aside, bored. Unless you are al
ready in full agreement with him,
you’ll want to argue with Thom
as Merton. You’ll find yourself
pounding the table, yelling, “Now,
wait a minute!” At other times
you’ll stare into space, mutter
ing, “He may be right.” Either
way, the book makes you think.
That’s good.
“The Seven Storey Mountain”
by Thomas Merton. Harcourt,
Brace and Company. 429 pages.
£3.00.
ivent back to his home town and
took over his father’s hardware
ousiness and made a pile of mon
-y from the business that his dad
milt up.
All of which proves nothing
. . except . . .
That the editor will get the fol
owing letters (all unsigned)
minting out that:
All well-to-do fathers don’t
lave no-good sons.
There is nothing wrong with
he hardware business.
You can’t get through school
without studying.
And so onr