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Monday, July 26, 1976
University Daily Kansan
Pilgrimage to the Dew Drop Inn
By G. S. BASHAW
Whether it was cosmic forces, friendship or just plain despair that made my buddies Mike and Billy drive more than 500 miles only to end up sipping 3.2 beer in DeSoto last Saturday night, I just don't know.
But there we were, with a balding, dyed-black-haired woman named Peggy Sue, her mother, and the same girl who was
slew of other townes, boogying in the Dew Drop Inn. Just like Mike said, "Now when would ya see this place if we weren't here to take ya?"
Comment
They had sojourned to Kansas from Chicago the day before, powered by a case of beer and seven bags of Fries. The beer was gone by St. Louis, the corn chips at K.C.
Beyond just visiting, their trip had only the faintest glimmers of a purpose: Mike wanted to snap some "historical type stuff" on his Instastatic and bring back a KU shirt for his girl, and Billy wanted a vacation from 70 hours a week at a gas station. They both wanted to lounge in a college town, an amusement park, out cheated out of by work after high school.
Mike and Billy are city people, survivors
of an unorderly world away from the greenery of a college campus, and they've had to pay the price of the survival. They each lug around more-than-ample beer bellies and, more often than not, cases of beer to put in those bellies. Though they're best friends, rarely do they talk to each other. The outrageous insults aimed at each other's abdomen. They are Hardy and Hardy, the thin man out.
Mike was the star of the comedy show last weekend. In high school he was known for prodigious beer drinking, plowing his car across fine suburban lawns at 40 miles per hour, driving in limousines, usually directed at innocent women, that earned him the title, "The Bushesest."
Mike retained his crown at a party we had in the two jolly boys' honour, by telling "hard-ta-fair college women" to "leave her room," then "keep Darlin," and "keep me abreast of g汗-son in Budapest, babe." If only he hadn't been decked out in a too-tight T-shirt with an iron-on decal 'IM ONLY HERE FOR THE DADDY' I doubt have had more romantic success.
Billy listened to one of my more twisted college friends describz a psychology experiment that tended his哭 of spiders after he swallowed one of the buggers. Billy listened to one of the people respite from the party's collegiate madness. He returned after trying to read the
"most screwed-up porno ever written." He got about 20 pages into an edition of Joyce's "Ulysses" with a half-naked woman on the cover.
The pair hail from city streets and so got their chance to shine when we packed up a beer breakfast to travel into Kansas City the next day.
At first Mike was disappointed. He liked clicking historical shots inside taverns in the River Quay but was sad to find that "where the two railroads met" wasn't in K.C., but a few states to the West. Billy proclaimed that "all Kansas women look thighs." But when Mike said a couple hours later, "It must be the farming work they do, about their thighs," Billy he didn't realize in such sweeping generalizations
Try as I might I couldn't keep pace with the established brewmasters, lost much of my consciousness in K.C. and woke up in the Dew Drop Inn slouched next to a woman named Miley who sat with a smoking cigar lodged in the plentiful gap between her two top teeth. Billy quickly whispered to me that he was going out of Nashville" and so were honored from a drinking off one Peggy Sue's liquor pool, because she always did like Charlie Rich.
had us managing Conway Twitty's personal affair's before Peggy Sue told us her current husband was even ornieried than her second one and we left.
Mike almost got us worked over when he out-busted an old, overran man at the pool table, and Billy was walking dangerous ground in similar work with Peggy Sue. He
They were ready to leave very early the next morning, and with a cooler full of cold Coor's in the back seat and Mike bellowling, they were ready to walk through neighbors to the loudspeaker mounted under his car's hood, they rode off east for a 10-hour trip home. I wished they could have stayed longer but we don't have a TV, and I would make it back for Kojak, or at least Bronk.
Clarification
Teddie Tasheff, student body president, said Friday she wished to clarify remarks made by her that appeared in an article on the University's website. The article made her appear to have immediate access to and recent information from the University's Title IX Self-Evaluation report, the basis of policy changes authorized by Cancellor Dykes Thursday.
In fact, Tasheff said, her remarks were collections of facts she collected in May about the report based on its form then. She said that, although she took notes when she read the report last spring, she wasn't using them at all. Ms. Cobb said that she hadn't seen the report since May.
New plant to solve trash disposal woes
By ROBERT KEARNEY
A garbage-powered steam heating plant is the answer to the trash disposal problem in Douglas County, according to a resolution recently passed by county commissioners.
A new Kansas regulation requires each county government to declare plans for future trash disposal to the Kansas Bureau of Land Management. County Engineer Dean Sanderson said.
A proposed Kansas University garbage-powered steam heating plant, which would use solid waste, as fuel, was named by the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency county's garbage problem, Sanderson said.
The power plant is the subject of a study being conducted by an Omaha, Neb. engineering firm, Max Lucas, assistant director of facilities planning, said recently.
Sanderson said that he had consulted Lucas and that they were very optimistic about the heating plant. If the plant is not functioning, he said, he hopes it will be functional by 1980.
Time is important because of a new regulation controlling solid waste disposal, Sanderson said. The regulations, which became effective July 1, prohibit all open burning and restricts many other forms of trash disposal.
Sanderson that under the new regulation the only acceptable means of
trash disposal was the landfill method. But, he said, the landfill is expensive and unacceptable to many residents of the county.
Douglas County commissioners considered opening a new landfill near the Wakaraus River, but so many people complained and the land was so expensive that the plan was abandoned, Sanderson said.
Sanderson said that the proposed KU plant would solve the trash problem not only of Douglas County and Lawrence, but also of Minnetonka Kinch County and part of Shawnee县.
Current estimates indicate that a solid waste incinerator large enough to heat the entire University would require 200 tons of solid waste a day.
Sanderson said that Lawrence produced 100 tons of trash a day and that it would require all of Douglas, Jefferson and McDowell counties to produce the other 100 tons.
The benefits of the system are obvious, Sanderson said. The cost of from $9 million to $11 million to the incinerator-heater to fuel it creates a matter of years by the fuel cost savings.
The University wouldn't have to pay for the trash because residents would pay for the collection and the counties and cities involved would have the money otherwise spent on landfills.
Strewn within and around the second railroad car were planes, which were in various states of disarray.
A Summer Day's End
So Buddha had the shade of 'a tree to contemplate under and Dylan the cool bars of Greenwich Village to classify meditation in. The oak trees grew slowly day like yesterday, when the fullest oaks offered little relief, and most tawards were so hard that people sought enlightenment in other places.
By later afternoon, Athey's cheeks were summed pink where his purple baseball cap didn't cover and he was ready to call it quits. He was tired of stooping over with his
Gray-haired Jesse Athey, of Lawrence, was fishing through the river's inlets for bait for hours. From his boat on the north shore he saw the city firemen drag around the sandbar for a man who drowned Friday. "I don't know that the firemen found the body."
net in the water, dragging the riverbank and coming up unty-handed.
The relentless sun provided ample illumination for some at the Kansas River where the wind sprayed into droplets, the brown water spilling over the dam.
A few drank in a view of the tree-lined waters upstream from the Bowersock Bridge while others were down at the dam and along the river. The halfway across the cool moss on the dam, and others in a boat paddled to the sandbar where a hundred birds and a few crabs were swimming.
"I been trying to get some minnows to put on my trout lines," he said, and then pointed to a beached fish lying between some rusted rocks. "I saw them there if I don't come up with anything."
Athey later picked up the perch and walked down the beach to his boat. The sand was white and hot from the sun. He cut up the perch into 25 pieces, one for each of his lines, on a wooden plank in the boat. He put them into a basket and will check for any catches tomorrow.
"I tell her, ya jashin" is bound to get better around it, he said. "is bound to darn slow里."
The two boxcars closest to the Price house
"I tell ya, fishin' is bound to get better around here." Jesse Athey said. "It's so darned slow right now."
"Those old things were used by the Lawrence Transfer and Storage Company before the flood back in '51 hit," she said. She flattened her nose against the screen and smiled. "After that the students came and pretty much ransacked them out."
Down the railroad tracks on the south side of the river near 11th and Haskell, five boxcar; that lay rotting in the woods near which also provided a place of discovery.
Mrs. George Price looked through the screen door of her house at the cars.
still hold an ample amount of treasures that Detters Rettenmeyer, Shawnee Mission
"I like to just poke around the cars and look at all the junk," Price said, sitting on a boxcar floor and eating a sandwich she'd packed. "Once I climbed one of the regular cars too, but it started moving and got goin' pretty fast before I could jump off."
Next to her were three chipped upright pianos, a hand-wringer and a set of faded Boy Scout aviator novels. The other car mounted a huge Schlitz beer sign, a shiny gold footing hat that dwelt into a corner when a shiny new Seite Fei diesel corobed by.
The countless fast food shops of 23rd street do a brisk business on Sunday afternoons
But many more people than were in boxcars were out in their autos, paying Sunday hatch to 23rd street. They cruised beyond the rows of shiny chrome cars lined up in lots and sought salvation in drives at the burrier stands.
"Sunday's just about our biggest day here," Leslie Rose, a McDonald's employee said. "Everybody likes to eat Sunday dinner here, it seems like."
Even though McDonald's serves up culture with piped-in music and art exhibit, Stan Switzer, a Lawrence high student because there was nothing else to do."
Ken Taylor, a senior at Lawrence high, was in the drive-in line at Burger King in his dad's bronze Electra 225 with rock jacked up on the stereo, and understandably more
"I like drive-ups, they're kind of a buzz"
he said. "I just like puffin' up here and being
A few will no doubt pass unscathed through all the neon lights and tentations of 32rd street to seek further satar. And the fuss lit atoon Fraser Hall always
on campus last night, a few walkers stolped alone along 14th Street, a couple embraced by Potter Lake and a harmonica held up in the air. A Spooner Museum of Art. Etched in stone on the museum front above him was the true message of the day: WHOSO FINDETH WISHIN' TO BE WITH YOU. On a summer day, a cocktail-filled summer night, that's just backwards.
Story by G. S. Bashaw
Pictures by Jay Koelzer
Having your food in the car or sitting in an air-conditioned restaurant are two choices oen to those in search of food.