How'd They Do It?
The solution to the Case of the Nightly Prowler, as pre
sented on the front page of Tuesday morning’s Oregonian, was
very satisfactory.
The dread nocturnal stroller who had caused so much ex
citement in a Portland suburban area turned out to be a harm
less old gentleman. (We got the impression that he sipped a
glass of sherry before his fireplace every night at bedtime.)
He merely was following his many-year-long habit of an even
ing walk.
Trouble was, many of the neighbors — they were mostly
veteran students—were new to the community. They hadn t
learned of the old gentleman’s harmless habit.
But—in solving this mystery, the Oregonian posed and
left unsolved another case: The Case of the Fatigued Veteran.
Said the Oregonian in the last paragraph of the story: “An
other cause for the excitement was bound to stem from the ex
gggerated reports. A veteran said to be suffering from strain
of his duties, was found responsible for some of the difficulty,
but his case was straightened out and the officers left, with
everyone satisfied.”
So they straightened out his case and left everyone satis
fied. Now, how did the police accomplish this immediate and
happy result?
Did the city offer the vet a pre-paid term’s rest in a sani
tarium? Did officers burn his books and convince him to be a
plumber’s helper? Could Dotty Do-Good have provided him
with ponies to pass his exams with? Or perhaps local .merch
ants came to his aid with free samples of Serutan, Di. Mile s
Nervine and Lydia Pinkham’s remedy.
Somehow, though, none of the above solutions seems likely
to produce immediate and enduring results, from what we’ve
seen of study fatigue cases.
So please, Oregonian, you pillar of the Northwest, unravel
this tangled web. The suspense, on top of our typewriter nerves
and study fatigue, is getting us down.—B.H.
A Guest Editorial
BetterStudentGovernment
By Art Johnson
ASUO President-Elect
One of the most unique organizations that I know of is the
Pacific Student Presidents Association. In serving the member
schools it makes no resolutions of policy or opinion commit
ting or binding them. The only requirements for membership
are geographical. It is entirely student-run, without even the
advice, except on request, of faculty personnel.
This organization is made up of the student body presidents
• of all the schools of higher education in the eleven western
states plus British Columbia and Hawaii. The last conference
held a week ago in Sun Valley, was attended by nearly sixty
schools. The purpose is to educate, advise and acquaint the
incoming student presidents so that they can serve their own
school better and have increased cooperation between the
schools.
This year’s convention, which I attended, was typical. The
host school, Idaho State College, took care of the administra
tive details such as securing the location, obtaining guest
speakers, and providing entertainment. The discussion topics,
selected by the student presidents, included student-faculty re
lations. school spirit, freshman orientation, school finances,
student unions, athletics, inter-collegiate relations and more
specific items such as NSA and WSSF. Yet enough time is re
served for informal activities for representatives to become
well acquainted with each other. In fact, the most valuable
material is often obtained in informal “bull sessions" which go
on continually.
It is hard to weigh the value of an individual or a school
gets from such conventions. Obviously it varies from year to
year. But I believe it is a wise policy that the organization fol
lows in keeping itself restricted. In contrast, the National Stu
dents Association attempts to do big things and to swing its
weight and is suffering because of it. I hope that Oregon will
continue to support PSPA and in return will have increasingly
better student government.
Oregon W Emerald
Tint OnCitoN Daily F.mfkald. published daily during the college year except Sunday*.
Mondays, holidays, and final examination periods by the Associated Students. University of
Oregon. Subscription rates: $2.00 per term and $4.00 per year. Entered as second-class matter
the post office. Eugene, Oregon.
BILL YATES, Editor
VIRGIL TUCKER. Business Manager
Associate Editors: June Goetre. Boblre Brophy. Diana Dye, Barbara Hey wood
Advertising Manager: Cork Mobley
BOB REED, Managing Editor
Assistant Managing Editors: Stan Turnbull. Bon Smith
HEM**..
BOB TWEEDEI.L. City Editor
Assistant City Editors: Ken Mct.-ler, Ann Goodman
Greet Men
Why Do They Kill Themselves
By Hal Boyle
NEW YORK—</P>—More peo
pie take their own lives in a
cold war than a hot war.
This truth of history is empha
sized by the
death of the
nation’s first
secretary of de
fense — James
Forrestal.
He is the
third major
state s m a n in
the post - war
world to kill
himself. The
others were
John G. Winant, former ambas
sador to Britain, and Jan Ivla
saryk of Czechoslovakia.
Forrestal . . . Winant . . . Ma
saryk . . . why did they do it?
It is always a ripple on the
commonplace when men in high
places destroy themselves.
Why did they kill themselves?
All were well-to-do, respected,
and seemingly had much to live
for. They were three men with
three different philosophies of
life. They all traveled different
roads, but the roads ended up at
the same blank wall.
Forrestal was an investment
banker and a realist. Masaryk
was a cultured and cosmopolitan
sophisticate. Winant was an
idealist.
But the realist, the sophisti
cate and the idealist all turned to
suicide as the only way out of
their problems.
In the cases of Winant and For
restal their deaths were official
ly blamed on overwork. Masaryk
is thought to have killed himself
when he realized he and his coun
try were prisoners of a foreign
power. And some believe, of
course, that Masaryk didn’t go
out his castle window under his
own power. They think he was
pushed.
Traditionally, statesmen and
generals commit suicide for only
one reason—to avoid disgrace or
to escape punishment. This was
as true in ancient Rome as it is
in modern Germany and Japan.
In many countries the cornered
leader has chosen self-destruc
tion rather than submit to cap
ture. He hopes in this way to
stay a herp in his people’s eyes.
So Brutus impaled himself on his
sword, Adolf Hitler shot himself,
or is supposed to have, and Tojo
put a bullet where he thought his
heart was—but it wasn’t. An
American rope finished Tojo.
But Forres'tal, Masaryk and
Winant chose suicide in peace
time, after surviving the strains
of war. None was in disgrace.
None was hungry.
Then why?
The probable answer is unbear
able personal tension, a feeling
that life was no longer worth the
struggle. 1
And it is an odd fact that the
tension of everyday living is
greater in peace than it is in
war. Danger excites, tension de
stroys.
In a world at peace no one i3
trying to take your life. In war
time the enemy is. And the more
he seeks your life the more you
want to keep it—if only through
pure stubbornness. The mere
fact he is after it makes you put
a higher value on it.
Another reason fewer people
commit suicide in wartime is that
life has a common aim, and peo
ple have more of a we-are-all-to
gether feeling. They are also
more unselfish.
Long ago Henry Thoreau wrote
that most men “lead lives of quiet
desperation.” But as long as
they know they are needed and
wanted, they go on living, des
perate or not.
Any goal or faith gives life a
purpose. This is why deeply re
ligious people are less likely to
kill themselves than those less
religious. And it perhaps explains
why fewer women commit suicide
than men. Women know their
purpose in life better than men.
President Truman congratulates James W. Simons, right, of Nevvhall, Calif., after he received tlie
American Forest Fire Foundation medal from Secretary of Agriculture Charles Brannan in Washing
ton, D. C. Simons, a bulldozer operator for Department of Los Angeles County Forester, is credited
with having halted a forest fire last Nov. 4 in California’s Malibu mountains. (AP Wireplioto)
Tragic circumstances surrounding the fatal shooting of their infant daughter are told Las Vegas Police
Chief Roy K. Parrish (right) by Cpl. Charlie Dean Aileu (left), a military policeman and his wife
Kuni Agnes Allen. The baby was struck in the forehead by a .45 caliber stub fired from a gun the
father was holding in his hands. (AP Wirephoto)