+ EMERALD EDITORIALS + Congratulations, Bud... . . . We're glad you won. And we’re sure you’ll do a good job, that’s why we backed your candidacy. It's going to be a big job, probably the big gest on the campus; bigger yet because of the sad state of disrepair into which student government has fallen. As this is written, only the first returns are in—but it’s safe to say that the vote was around 2000, or not quite half of the students on campus. And this poor show ing was made despite good weather. Part of your job—though we hope you'll devote less time to it than to the issues at hand—is to find out what makes it that way, and perhaps to remedy the situation so that it doesn’t reoccur. A major reason we voted for you was be cause you have the drive to carry out the things that were written in your platform. There will be times when you’ll probably seem to be beating your head against a stone wall. We hope you won’t quit, because if you keep at it. we think you can win, just as you did last night. You had a good opponent—we had a heck of a time trying to make a choice. And he’ll be a good vice-president. The 380 votes by which you won make up a good margin, but it’s close enough so you know you had a battle. This leads to another reason why we voted for you—at the coffee hour in the SU and again when you spoke to the Em erald editorial board, we got the subjective feeling that you would be more represen tative of a greater number of students— we hope you won’t let us down. Incorporate some of the UIS platform planks—they had some excellent ones. But more of that later. Anyway, congratulations. A Moment’s Pause Let us pause for a moment's silence. The Oregon Honor Code is, for all practical pur poses, dead. The honor code and vestiges of it have been with us for about five years. It came before the students in the 1953 general elec tion—and it won, but by a margin of rough ly 51 per cent to 49 per cent, a margin not sufficient to justify adopting the code. The last real attempt to give the Uni versity of Oregon an honor code came in the Fall of 1953 in the form of a little pamphlet called “The Oregon Way,” try ing to impress the students, especially the new ones, with the idea that an honor code was a significant part of “The Oregon Way.” The Honor Code would have been quite a thing. It would have replaced what the booklet called a ■ police-state" system with what we think would have been a “thought police” system. That is. rather than have gruff, mean professors overseeing the test ing of the slaves, we would all watch our neighbors, waiting to see one of them cheating. When you saw someone cheating, you tapped a pencil to warn him. If he persisted in his nefarious practice, you called the in cident to the attention of another person. Pretty soon the whole room would have ap parently been tapping. Presumably also, a person with the men tality of a cheater would have still been cheating. He might have been the good-guy type, however, and joined the tapping. From this .you proceeded in one of two ways. You could tell the violator that he was to report to the Honor Council within 24 hours, then report him ifhe had not done so; or you could report him yourself, in writing. Something akin to the student traffic court, only having jurisdiction over honor code violators, would then try the person and pass on his guilt or innocence. Xot only did the court accompany the honor code, there were also the test files, about the last hangover of the honor code hassle. These have been a problem because no body wanted them. When the honor code committee was finally disbanded last fall, the senate had the test files on its hands. A committee went to work to see if any body would take charge of the orphan test files—nobody would. The new senate will be asked to approve the abandonment of the test files. We hope they will approve the idea. The files are the last hangover of some thing that wouldn’t have worked. The honor code sounded nice, but under the surface, it didn't really mean much. We re glad to see it gone, but we’re paus ing to commemorate it for a moment. That pause to consider the thing will, we hope, prevent another attempt to bring the honor code to Oregon. Footnotes Guess w e ll have to go back to complaining about the coffee and the service at the SU now that they've fixed our favorite door. * * * Today is a day to relish—it’s Mav 5, 1955 or 5/5/55, a day that won’t coinc along for another century. IHTERPRETING THE MEWS The Quemoy and Matsu Problem; Should the US Negotiate or Not? BY S. M. ROBERTS AP News Analyst Nationalist China's reiteration that she will not evacuate Que moy and Matsu and that she will “never" confer with the Chinese Reds is an important roadblock in the way of any American ne gotiations with Peiping. Te the casual observer it may appear that Taipei is mercy producing big words, subject to change if the United States chooses to apply the screws. To a limited extent— limited by the reluctance of the United States to use coer cion—that might be true. The practical effect of the Nationalist stand, however, is on the attitude of the Reds them selve.s. There has been some thought the Reds, in the midst of a sweetness and light cam paign to convince Asia that it need not fear aggression from them, might make a cease-fire deal. This thinking has revolved around giving them enough to save face for them — perhaps giving them the small islands and promising to hold a confer ence on political settlements af ter the shooting was stopped, as was done in connection with the Korean truce. The world Communist move ment for its own purposes, is going all out for conferences these days. The promise of the islands might be less important to them than the promise of a political conference. But if Chiang persists in re fusing to meet the Reds, and the Reds persist in refusing to meet Chiang, a good part of the rea son for U. S.-Peiping talks will have evaporated before arrange ments for them can be made. There is, of course, doubt that the Reds intend to follow up Chou En-Lai’s Bandung suggestion for a eonference. He may have been hoping only that the United States, eager for peace and anxious not to give the appearance of leaving any stone unturned, would ap pear as a supplicant. That would enhance the show of strength put on by tweaking a great power’s nose in the matter of the imprisoned fliers. If the United States wants to go ahead with negotiations with the Reds in the face of these uncertainties, the decision will have to be made whether the prospective results will warrant coercion of the Nationalists as the Rhee government was co erced in South Korea. That type of operation is always difficult for the United States to under take. A DAY AT THE ZOO Spring Is Still Spring; The Sleeper Sleepeth By Bob Funk EnHiild Columniit Spring is all things to all things. To birda, it Is a time to go scrounging around on the ground trying to find worms to pull out by their hind enda, and then wondering if this Is really the hind end or the other end, or if worms have two hind ends. For worms, it is a time to tunnel ing around in the ground aer eating things; and on weekends, aid in the seduction of fish whose mammas never told them. For people, spring Is more complicated. For the philosopher it is time to think about My Problem; the Horrible Superfi ciality of it Ail; and When You Really Think About It. For i o m c persons, ipring is a sort if big vitamin pill, and it does -O them every hing that a vi tamin could If a vitamin could lo everything . h e manufac lurer says in me isaiuroay Kve ning Post. And for other people, of course, other things happen. Fun things and otherwise. The scene is A RIVERBANK, in the far West Time: 3:30 p.m., Tuesday. May 3. 1955. A group of people are sif ting around getting somewhat damp on the bottom. As we approach we see that they are THE PIRPLE-AX'D-KOMBER SHADES PHILOSOPHER; THE GIRL WITH THE OVER ACTIVE THYROID; THE CON S T A X T BLABBERER; and a fourth person who ts asleep and never identified. “I doubt if 1'U even make Kwama.” the Constant Blabber er Is saying as we come up. "I was in lots of things, but half of them, you know, they never even took pictures for Oregana, and some of those old prune faces they got in there would n’t vote for me anyway, YOU know—” “There are the thinkers and the non-thinkers,” the philoso pher interrupted, looking out over the river. “Sometimes I wonder how X can stand it, with all this insincerity. The farther you go from San Francisco, the more insincere everything be comes, seemingly. Kant said ” “And. then I said, kid, if you don't make it, I’ll just about cry, all the activities you been in; and you know, she should really get in if they’re really fair, only I’ve heard lots of things.” Meanwhile, the Overactive Thyroid girl was bouncing up and down like a basketball that couldn’t get over the dribble habit after basketball season. “Let’s all swim across the river, gang,” she kept say ing in a cheerleader voice. “It’s not really cold. The first per son back gets to be first up the tree in the tree-climbing race.” She kicked .the asleep person, but he or she only mumbled and turned over. "Everything runa on. Just like the river," the Philosopher Hold. “I don't know when I’ve been in such a terrible mood. It’s that class; that professor; when I come out of there I am abso lutely depressed. Any thinking person would be. Talk about in tellectual honesty, there is no intellectual honesty north of San Francisco. Why, there are three Republicans on the faculty, ntul 1 hear they're hiring a fourth next year." "Maybe for bridge," the Con stant Blabherer said comforting ly The thyroid lady emerged dripping from the river and shook a fine spray all over everyone. "Its really great, gang." she said. "The jvalet s really warm after you g< t used to it." They looked over at the water and rmiled weakly. The thyroid lady was already racing herself up a tree, yelling ath letic things all the way up. "You can never tell." the blah erer said. "I might even get a date for the Junior thing us the prom. I guesa. There's this really cute boy. he sat neat to me in comp the first term only I had to take that term over so that separated ua, see, and so he started going out with this girl that's a room-mate of Beverly's, and I whs always seeing him downstairs in Carson " ossIp,” hr said. Thr phll owiphcr ■utld, that in. “I hii« Just thinking, gossip and wine arr aiikr in that they arr >M>th iKTSklniuilly distilled from sour grapes, and iinprovr with agr. That'* very trur, don't you think?" "Er. sum but I wm always spring him downstairs. arr. and oner I. it was rrally funny I walked up to him and said, you really come around here a lot. you must like the soft chairs or something, and you should have seen him blush. WELL., this was all while he was going out with Beverley, she flunked out last term and got married or maybe she's working in Port land. It was Ann that got mar ried - " Which dissertation upon the boyfriend of the late Beverly was rudely interrupted by Miss Thyroid, who came up and slap perl the philosopher a good thunk on the back. ''You guys just gonna sit around all day and waste all this good sunlight? You ought to see the view from the top of that tree I was just, up! Can see clear to Weyerhaus er!'’ This electrifying information felt upon more or less deaf ears. The philosopher was hop ing that the tide would come In so that they would base to go home, or at least move; hut then he remembered they weren’t at the beaeh. ‘‘I could use a hamburger,” the blabberer said. The thyroid one mumbled something about working up an appetite; she was doing push-ups. The philosopher turned up his watch two hours, and they went home. Probably the asleep person went home with them. I forgot to ask. oreqon P020LD The Oregon Daily Emerahl is published five days a week during the school year except examination and vacation periods, by the Student Publications Hoard of the University d Oregon. Entered as second class matter at the post office, Eugene, Oregon. Subscription rates: $5 per school year; $2 a term. Opinions expressed on the editorial pages are those (if the writer and do not pretend to represent the opinions of the ASl'O or the University. I'nsigned editorials are written by the editor; initialed editorials by members of the editorial board.