Closed Sources
A story appeared on the front page of Thursday’s Emerald.
It was a good story, but it wasn’t complete. The facts of the
case simply weren’t available.
This illustrates a big problem of the press—freedom of in
formation. It isn’t a perfect example. Considering the short
lives and inactivity of many organizations, it may not be
too important,whether the NAACP is granted permission
to organize on campus. We don’t aim to grind an axe for
the group.
What we’re complaining about are the barriers to further
information. Student Affairs committee meetings are closed.
A press representative may attend, but he can't “cover" the
sessions. Most of the people who are in a position to know
what is happening in the NAACP case won’t talk. Those who
will want to remain “off the record.’’ We feel we should re
spect their requests—in this case. Others were “unavailable
for comment.”
It is impossible to withhold information and escape the
stigma of having something to hide. This is true whether it’s
a New York vice trial, a political caucus, or a U of O com
mittee meeting. Even if the press knows—but can t print
the whole story, the public doesn't.
We want to make it clear that we're sure there is nothing
lurking in the shadows in this case. We don't even think it's
worth the secrecy.
But we object to the violation of the principle of the free
press, which necessitates free access to the news.
In all fairness we should state that those who want to
keep this matter quiet are also following a principle. One
professor explains, “the press seldom has full coverage of
both sides of an issue. Tempers flare because the story is
incomplete, and a sketchy report does more damage than
good.’’
When people refuse to talk, or are afraid to talk, how does
one get a complete report? To resort to the always present
devious methods of garnering information is to leave the press
open to charges of gutter journalism.—H.J.
Waldo, the Defender
It was a great relief to us when we discovered, early this
week, that the purpose of those curious square holes which
dotted the campus was for such an innocent thing as to sup
port building signs. We’d heard a lot of rumors about them
(before they were filled, naturally)—not the least disturbing
of which was that they were for our old friend Waldo and his
pals.
We got this report from our advertising manager, Ron
Brown, who, in a moment of dark despair, suggested that
the mysterious square opening by the SU flagpole would
be a neat fit for the carcass of our black and white (and oc
casionally purple) protector.
We.sput Mr. Brown in our high dudgeon classification for
his thoughts—but worried about the suggestion, nevertheless.
So it was nice to see the holes filled up, even if the signs for
which they serve as a base seem overly rustic, quite Forest
Service-like in appearance. One would almost expect to find
the one by the flagpole stating, “Water—300 feet-[^>” or
“Skyline Trail—elevation 4,769 feet” or something like that.
Waldo, to us, has a much more important purpose in life
than to substitute for a few cubic feet of cement, even though
he does have an addiction to statuesque poses. He is, in a
sense, the special (and self-appointed) defender of the Emerald
shack against a pack of marauding squirrels that hang out in
the pin oak trees outside our door.
They’re as rough and rowdy a bunch of squirrels as we’ve
ever come across, but no match for the patient, purposeful
defender. We’ve known him to spend entire afternoons seat
ed motionless beneath a tree trunk, head tilted toward the
sky.
We’ll admit he’s not the prettiest dog in the world, or the
most intelligent—but for raw courage, find another to match
this two-toned guardian of freedom of the press.
EMERALD
The Oregon Uaily Emerald published Monday through Friday during the college year
except Jan. S; Feb. 23; Mar. 2, 3, 5, 9, 10 and 11 ; Mar. 13 through 30; June 1, 2 and 3 by the
Student Publications Board of the University of Oregon. Entered as second class matter
at the post office, Eugene, Oregon. Subscription rates: $5 per school year; $2 per term.
Opinions expressed on the editorial page are those of the writer and do not pretend to
represent the opinions of the ASUO or of the University. Editorials are written by the
editor and the members of the editorial staff.
Jim Haycox, Editor Sally Thurston, Business Manager
Helen Jones, Larry Hobart, Al Karr, Associate Editors
Bill Gurney, Managing Editor
Jackie WardKll, News Editor
Sam Vaiiey, Sports Editor
AT THE WINDOW, BEAUTY
Serenades Are THE Thing!
It was two o'clock In the morn
morning and she was lying
somewhat northeast of center on
the Lambda Pu sorority sleeping
porch. She was a thing of beauty,
duplicated on every side by the
sleeping forms of her sorority
sisters. Her luxuriant hair, un
encumbered by pins or. other ma
chinery streamed luxuriantly
over her pillow. Her slender fig
ure was swathed in a frothy
negligee (we got this part out
of a book). By the pale light
of the moon you could see the
breath curling delicately from
her nostrils.
From somewhere down the
street came the sound of a
coarse laugh and the drop of a
beer can. Almost instantly, the
form of the Saturday Night
Sophomore Serenade Apprehend
ing Committee chairman, which
had been motionless beside the
window, tensed; and with its
tensing fourteen beautiful sopho
more committee members sprang
from their beds with hoarse cries.
"Serenade! Serenade!” the
voice of the committee chairman
wailed, siren-like. Another mem
ber was poking sleeping Lambda
Pu s in vulnerable places with a
hairpin.
“Remember iadies, ten dollar
fine for not getting up for ser
enades,” another voice rasped.
"Ten dollar fine and dead nights
all spring term!”
The Thing of Beauty cleverly
put her pillow over her face and
her luxuriant hair and attempted
to sink into her mattress. This
worked for approximately three
minutes, after which time the
pillow was snatched up. a flash
light pushed near her face, and
a mellow voice broke the night
with ‘‘All right, ladies, every
body wants to show their House
Spirit, doesn't everybody."
They stood, imbued with House
Spirit, at the windows, and they
were lovely to behold. The com
mittee chairman was peeling
near-sightedly down onto the
lawn. The committee for Render
ing a Beautiful Song of Reply
was neighing nervously off to
side.
Down on the lawn one mem
ber of the Triple Greek-letter-we
have-forgotten fraternity leaned
against his brother in the bond,
who leaned against still a third,
who found a resting place
against a tree. They mumbled
aimlessly for a time, could not
agree upon a song, and left.
There was a general feeling on
the sleeping porch that this had
possibly been an Unregistered
Serenade, and everyone went
back to bed. The committee
chairman was severely dis
appointed.
It was two-thirty o’clock the
same morning when the commit
tee chairman again raised the
hue and cry, and the Sisterhood
again gathered expectantly at
the windows. Below on the lawn
five hundred members of the
Phi, Phi faternity were gathered
into five parts. Members hold
ing torches formed an Omega in
the center; a line of men in
front were holding roman can
dles. The members refreshed
themselves with last gulps of
Coca Cola, and then began
roughly as follows:
"Take, O Take those lips away:
Should I not live another day
I should expire surfeitad, re
plete,
With love of you, who ure so
neat;
With love of you, who are so
fair,
For whom you know I really
care;
W;th love of you, who would
not go
With any other blackguard,
schmo
But me, (but I) of frat Phi,
Phi.
In summary, even should I die
You'd still possess my Phi,
Phi pin
Which, on this campus, means
You're In."
The song of reply was all about
the beautiful, gorgeous, and re
dundantly charming members of
Lambda Pu being the people ev
.by bob funk
crybody wanted to pin, even the*
cross-eyed ones, and so this sire- '
nade was no surprise.
The girl serenaded was receiv
ing her eighth serenade in as
many weeks, and was hoping to
break the existing record and re- -
ceive the Serenade Cup on Found-,
ers' Day. On the sixth serenade
a small group of disgruntled sis
ters hud attempted to thrust her
bodily from the sleeping porch
onto the blazing torches of the
serenading fraternity. This plan
had been frustrated from fruition ■
only by the fact that the lady in
question lodged on a first-floor"
awning.
Since then she had kept her
self chained to the house pri-: i
dent on the rather naive assump
tion that no one would throw the"
house president out of the win- ,
dow too.
As the Song of Reply ended”
there*, was ecstatic breathing on
all sides and the Most Serenaded,
cut another notch in the bedpost.
“Beautiful,” the committee-4
chairman sighed.
Down on the street a beer can .
clinked. The committee chairman
tensed expectantly. And by th“
dim, romantic illumination of the*
moon, a member of the senior
class of Lambda Pu sorority, Al
pha of Oregon, shot herself with-"
a small revolver.
Sophomore Honors Program?
ancient wstqk* m
«„} «* :?
“Don't you worry about how they’ll make* a living—just stress the
importance of a college education.”
A Special Report on: Qe/una+uf. L|
Bayerisch-Gnaim was probably
never in the news. It is just a
small Bavarian village in the
mountains on the German-Aus
trian border about twenty miles
southwest of Salszburg. It took
several bursts of machine gun
fire to concentrate the interest
of reporters and news agencies
on the hamlet.
Theodor Birkel, 48-year-old
mayor of the village, was shot to
death while walking by the house
of Martin Jacobi, a former Nazi
official. At nine o’clock in the
morning Jacobi set up an old
German army machine gun in a
third-floor window of his house
and mowed down Birkel as he
walked by
A passerby ran to aid the
mayor and was grazed by a
ballet. Two other men on the
Written for the Emerald by
Gunther Barth, German news
man who attended the Univer
sity last year.
street escaped death, though
they were fired at.
After the killing, Jacobi set
his house on fire and jumped out
of a second-floor winfTow. The
firemen were paralyzed for hours
in their attempt to control the
blaze by explosion of small arms
ammunition and hand grenades
stored in the house.
At nine o’clock in the eve
ning Jacobi died in the hospital
of Bad Reichenhall from self
inflicted injuries.
The investigation showed that
Jacobi was dismissed as village
secretary after the war when he
was convicted as a major Nazi
offender. Officers said he apps^^
ently intended to take revenge on .
the community by killing its
mayor. *
The news about Bayerisch
Bnaim reached the Germans
two days after German police
had arrested, by special order
bf Chancellor Adenauer, a
group of former officers and
Nazi sympathizers in Ham
burg. They planned to over
throw the democratic govern- '
ment by what they called
“legal” methods.
In this connection the Bayer
isch-Gnaim story bears a certain
grim irony on the real political
chances of such groups For the
only former Nazi who started an .
armed action against a repre
sentative of the new established
order was a single, insane man.