Dailu
EMERALD
The Oregon Daily Emerald is published five days a week during the school year
except examination and vacation periods, by the Student Publications Board of the Univer
sity of Oregon. Entered is second class matter at the post office, Eugene, Oregon. Sub
scription rates: $5 per school year; $2 a term.
Opinions expressed on the editorial pages are those of the writer and do not pretend to
represent the opinions of the ASUO or of the University. Unsigned editorials are written
by the editor; initiated editorials by the associate editors.
JOE GARDNER, Editor JESS- SAN DINE. Business Manager
DICK LEWIS, JACKIE WARDELl., Associate Editors
PAUL KEEFE, Managing Editor DONNA RUNBERG, Advertising Manager
JERRY HARRELL, News Editor GORDON RICE. Sports Editor
n.. t. r 1..__ u. _
Chief Makeup Editor: Sam Vahey
Feature Editor: Dorothy Her
Ass’t. Managing Editor: Anne Ritchey
Ass’t. News Editors: Mary Alice Allen,
Anne Hill, Bob Robinson
Chief Night Editor: Valerie Hersh
Ass’t. Sports Editor: Buzz Nelson
Nat’l. Adv. Mgr.: Mary Salazar
Circulation Mgr.: Rick Hayden
Ass’t. Office Mgr.) Marge Harmon
Layout Manager: Dick Koc*
Classified Adv.: Helen R. Johnson
Morgue Editor: Kathleen Morrison
Woman's Page Co-editors: Sally Jo
Marcia Mauney
Greig,
Please Sign Them
On two occasions already this year we have stated in this
column that the Emerald will accept for publication in its
Letters to the Editor column only letters signed by the
writer. Only names which can be checked against student
affairs files or some other reputable source will be accepted.
Early this week, however, we received a letter signed
only “B. Noble.” We can not print this letter until the let
ter writer will identify himself.
Normally we would discard all unsigned letters. Since it is
still early in the year, and the writer may not be familiar with
our policy, we will give him this chance to come fprward and
stand up for his opinions. In the future, we will not be able to
give an anonymous letter writer this opportunity, since we
obviously can't continue to write editorials to each individual
anonymous writer.
If “B. Noble” wishes to identify himself, we will run the
letter at our earliest convenience. If he can furthermore
demonstrate that there is justified cause for withholding his
name, we will do so. However, we feel that a “name-withheld
by-request” letter carries very little weight. Opinions are
only as good as those who hold them.
We are especially eager to publish “B. Noble's” letter.
The writer expressed the opinion his letter would not be
printed since his views differed from ours.
We thought we had made it clear in previous editorials that
the Letters to the Editor column is the place for just such
divergent views. But perhaps our anonymous .letter writer
never reads editorials.
Wet, Isn't It?
We are against rain, completely, absolutely against rain. It
may be very nice for farmers—or so we learned in grade school
or someplace—but we don’t like it.
Puddles of water collecting in shoes we can take. Cases
of double pneumonia acquired by wearing wet shoes during
Julian Huxley’s Charter Day speech we can ignore. After
all, the infirmary needs business.
Being broad minded wre can endure soggy notebooks and
■warped library books for which we have to pay. We can’t read
our notes because water drips off our forehead and blurs the
ink. But we don’t care—after all, who wants to study?
All these we can bravely endure. Or we could endure
them if it were not for one thing. Have you looked in a mirror
lately? Wet, isn’t it?
There is something singularly unattractive about the shaggy
dog appearance the campus is wearing these days. Rain hats
pulled dow n on top of wrinkled raincoats, so that the whole
effect looks like a tent floating down the street.
And do you realize campus social life is in great danger.
What self respecting tent—that is man—will call up the
drowned looking creatures he sees swimming into the library
after a day in the rain.
Think what this could do to campus dances. Xo dates, no
attendance, no money—a catastrophe! And all because of
rain.
But even if a bold individual can exist on campus without
a canoe in one pocket and hip boots on his feet, h^s in danger1
of loosing an eye at any moment.
Many'women have given up depending on a thin silk
scarf to keep the curl in the hair and are sallying forth armed
with umbrellas. The only defense is to head for the street
and try to stay afloat in the gutters.
Really, the only solution we can see is a huge canopy to
be suspended over the campus. Of course, outlawing rain
would be easier, but not altogether workable.
Or, the heating tunnels, which we understand run across
campus in a maze below the ground, could be opened to
traffic. Then we could all become moles and live beneath the
ground. This also does not seem too workable somehow.
-(J.W.)
—A DAY AT THE ZOO
Phi Brack Brothers Pick Horse
As Candidate for Bounce Queen
by Bob Funk
Emerald Columnist
On Friday evenings, this was
the fun and good times room: on
Saturday, it was the fun and
good times room again, only
more so. On Sunday, it was the
room everyone avoided because
SF - - contained too
many memories
of two a.m. on
Saturday when
the house presi
dent embraced
the house man
ager and called
him the best ol’
buddy in the
whole world
and I really
PHI MP* MH mean 11.
But on Monday evenings, this
room was the Chapter Boom. It
made a lovely chapter room,
down there in the basements
where the hot air pipe for the
living room met the cold-water
pipe for the second-floor shower,
and electrical conduits met ev
erything indiscriminately. All
this friendly tubing ran around
on the ceiling; the floor, or what
was left of it after you took out
room for the furnace and the
ping-pong table and the tubs of
ashes dating back to 1947, was
occupied by the chapter meet
ing.
The president called the
meeting to order, and the Rit
ual Officer arose and lit a
candle stuck in an old Oley
bottle, which gave a lovely
brown glow. "A Phi Brack is
loyal, kind, brave, neirt, real
cool, extremely good-looking,
thoughtful—”
“That’ll be enough ritual for
just now," the house president
said nervously. If he didn't make
chapter meeting exceedingly
short, the brothers had a little
habit of tossing him into the
Millrace. And that week there
was no water in the Millrace.
“First order of business is nom
ination of house candidate for
Graduate Student Seminar
Bounce Queen."
"I souppose that means some
girl,” someone said.
“We nominated a girl last
year, and year before that,”
someone else complained, “and
she always gets lim-, lin—”
“Eliminated,” the house presi
dent said. He knew everything
about campus activities.
“Yeah, that’s what she gets.
Now I had this idea, why nom
inate another girl, why not
nominate a horse, one of those
blonde palathing horses.”
“Obviously we couldn’t nom
inate a horse,” the house presi
dent said in his perfectly nause
ating way of saying things. No
sooner had he said this than
there were shouts of motions,
seconds, and a small slugging
display over Question, and right
there before his very ears the
president heard that a palomino
horse by the name of Lillian had
been nominated the Phi Brack
candidate for Seminar Queen. It
was a bad night in every way;
however, it had rained some and
the bottom of the Millrace was
not quite as bad as one might
have thought.
The NEXT night the Chapter
Room became Signs for Lillian
room. There was a hundred-foot
roll of butcher paper snaked be
tween the tubs of ashes and the
furnace. The sophomore class
was covering it with the follow
ing, in red: LILLIAN IS
BLONDER, POUND FOR
POUND, THAN ANY OTHER
GRADUATE BOUNCE QUEEN
CANDIDATE. This was admit
tedly not too catchy, but it
looked well written in red on
butcher paper.
There was a car parade.
Lillian sat in two convertibles,
and everything was dandy un
til her head became snared in
a tangle of telephone wires.
To avoid Lillian’s possible de
capitation, the car parade was
called off. The brethren turned
next to the device of a flying
speech.
The flying speech was a real
liver, First, the house president
entered the house carrying the
American Flap and playing The
Star Spangled Banner on a toil
ette. Then the entire floorshow
from the Copacabana (the man
ager was an old Phi Brack! can
canned in singing "When My
Baby Smiles at Me." Well, may
be it wasn't the Copacabana, but
: it was one of those big places.
Then one of (he Phi Bracks shot
out the dining room lights. Just
: for excitement; and another Phi
; Brack gave an impersonation of
i Lillian and told Jokes with a
j Lithuanian dialect.
By this time, several of the
members of the house being
flown at by the flying speech
would have either fainted or been
hit by stray shells. As a grand
] finale, a danseuse named Temp
j est Typhoon Jumped upon the
I table and went into a strangely
indescribablye act. Lillian wound
things up (the grand GRAND
finale) by galloping around the
dining room with another horse
named Louise standing on her
back, and another horse named
Marilyn on her back. Sometimes
they left Marilyn off if the din
ing room had a low ceiling.
You cun Imagine the Impact.
•Several persons quit school,
muttering. Two other candi
dates for Seminar Bounce
Queen t rlt’d running urouml
rooniN with horses on TIIKIIt
Imeks, and wrre permanently
disabled. .Manslaughter charges
Wfr* flli-d against three Phi
Itracl? sharpshooter* who Imil
missed till’ Iiuhth. Five thou
sand 'ticket* wen; mild for (In*
Seminar Bounce.
On the following Tuesday the
campus paper announced LIL
LIAN REFUSES TO BE ELIM
INATED, MAKES QUEEN FI
NALS. "I told you we could do
it with n horse," the one who had
suggested Lillian said. Wednes
day's paper: QUEEN JUDGE
CHANGES VOTE TO YES AS
LILLIAN STOMPS ON HIS
STOMACH. Lillian was Still In
there, fighting all the way, mak
ing flying speeches at mealtime
and intimidating judges in the
evening. Thursday: JUDGES RE
FUSE TO TAKE THE FIELD:
(Continued on froi/e three)
FRITZ
FRAUNFELDER
JOE COLLEGE
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