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Tuesday, July 13, 1976
University Daily Kansan
Comment
1976 NYT SPECIAL FEATURES
N.Y.C. delights delegates
NEW YORK (AP)—Can a staircase Wallace supporter from South Carolina bring his wife to New York City, vote for Jimmy Carter at the convention and still have a good time? Or at least survive?
Democratic delegate Wayne Hartley, 49,
wasn't too sure when he stepped off a
Southern Methic Jeff jeet La Guardia's
13th street and Sundale Suzanne's
Twenty-four hours later, he had an answer.
"Well, I'll declare," he said. "It is a pleasure being here, instead of the ordeal we had anticipated. I didn't want to come to New York before."
WAYNE AND CARL Hartley, real estate and insurance brokers from Charleston, said they hadn't been looking forward to their first stay in Fun City.
"At first I complained to the delegation about their choice of site." Hartley said at the airport. "The reasons are obvious, what with the muggings and all."
A welcoming committee moved in and began handing out to the Hartleys and 75 other South Carolina delegates some materials, 'cissting of newspapers and maps.
A little overwhelmed by the attention, Hartley said, "This is hospitality! We will have to reciprocate when you come to South Carolina."
THE HARTLEYS have three teenage daughters, have been married 20 years, described themselves as middle income, have graduated from college and are taking college courses.
En route to their Manhattan hotel, the Hartleys worried about what awaited them. "Are the abbys really dangerous? When they attack us?" she asked with mugginggs. Have you had any problems?"
"Well, now that we're here," Hartley said with resignation. "I guess we should see as much as we can. We're willing to look at this with an open mind."
While Mrs. Hartley craned her neck to the tops of tall buildings, her husband pointed out the metal grid screens in front of closed shop windows.
"TWE NEVER seen that before," he said,
"but I can understand the need for it."
"Well, I've never seen that before either," Mrs. Hartley exclaimed. "Look there, a church right in the middle of the street with shops all around it."
A late afternoon reception and meeting for the South Carolina delegates delayed a planned trip to a street fair.
Down in the 57th Street and Seventh Avenue subway tunnel, the Hartleys purchased tokens for their first ride. Mrs. Hartley stepped back, eyes wide as a train hurted past, then laughed as they ran for the last car.
"THIS REALLY gets you there in a hurry, doesn't it," she said.
"I's an experience, it is sure," Hartley said. "I'd never really thought much about it. I was not going to care."
Emerging from the subway tunnels, the Hartleys found themselves caught up in a New York street fair, and Mrs. Hartley had to walk home, taking hands with Mayor Abraham Beame.
They were soon involved in one of New York's top attractions, food. Various local restaurants had set up booths and were handing out free samples. The Hartleys opened the door to the conventionally at the crowds, the police, the free food and the party atmosphere.
On the subway to Times Square, Hartley wryly commented, "I guess this reminds me of a chihuahua."
THE MOST often refrain he refrains, "I've never seen anything like this before... . . ."
"This is not this at all like her (Mrs. Hartley) getting in her Lincoln and going where she wants to." he added. "We thought we lived in a congested area when we had to stop a few minutes at a traffic light."
Times Square, with the bright lights, theater marquees and its legitimate and seamy aspects, seemed a bit overwhelming. The Hartleys were clearly more comfortable as they walked through Rockfeller Center.
"Well, this isn't at all what I expected," and now there's so much I want to see.
"OH! LOOK straight up," Mrs. Hartley said in front of the Time-Life Building.
There is a rumor affoot that English soon will satisfy the foreign language request.
By RON HARTUNG Continuing Writings
Well, let's scotch that rumor here and now—temporarily, at least. The truth is that our language is being bludgeoned more severely every year (in spite of the fact that we have alwaysAmerica, since Mr. Coffee came along to student population, having been tutored by game-show hosts, sportscasters and pitcher, is showing itself to be less and less handy with the mother tongue. Collegegians have been known to whimper at the sight of a female accentence, and openly weep when told that "He should of went" is, alsas, standard English.
The situation resembles a bizarre tag-team wrestling match.
IN THIS corner, in lily-white trunks, stands Kid "Hit-the-books" College, with kids turned Avenger, a professional type in the high school, the other corner, in the black and blue trunks, crouches the Corruptor, sponsored by the advertising industry. With him, no trunks at all, is the trusted Truth, holding that good news is easier to talk bad than good, aren't it?"
Requiem for a language
The bell sounds, the grapplers enter the ring, and for the next ten minutes the hall is hitched with sticking of the forearm hitting flesh, the wrinkles of the vulgar rabble shriek for more. But look! the College Kid, trapped in the enemy's corner, is being knuckled silly by the unscrupulous duo. As his partner looks on in his pleading, the Corpuer plants his knee firmly in the Kid's legs and arms are locked behind him. The Corpurator plants his knee firmly in the Kid's back and cackles maniacally as the Naked One, skidding the Kid's face into the floor.
On and on this ungrammatical torture went, until finally the Kid's spirit seemed to snap, and he began mouthing their foul motteos. The Corruptor led him through a disgusting etiquity of all saying slogan ever to flash across a TV screen, while the other corner, fists dig in his ears to shut out the sound.
"All right, punk, repeat after me: I should of went; Everybody is doing their work; Winston takes good like it should; Mr. Klub goes down good; Hopefully the sun will rise going out the window, the car rolled downhill; Him and me is going with they and she."
BUT SUDENLY a frail, nondescript figure slipped through the rabid crowd to the Avenger and, whispering in his ear, he scratched the pages of his book. And, just as suddenly, a look of confident joy spread across the Avenger's face. He rose, hopped over the ropes, strode to the center of the ring and, in a voice that we have sold a chill dog to a vegetarian, began:
*Friends, are you grammatically correct?*
*The dependent clause is Saturant's impiliment, granddaughter.*
An eerie hush settled over the crowd, and
Bright city lights, country moon
By GREG BASHAW
Campus Editor
It's been said that to live well you must balance the terror you see in the world with its beauty. Just how hard it is to maintain balance because becomes striking on full moon nights.
Saturday was such a night, when the moon blotted out all but the brightest stars and its pull tugged on Earth like a powerful magnet. Our five cats sprawled in the front yard taking swipes at each other and chasing their tails.
At our friends' farmhouse four miles south of town four guys were jamming jolting blues on electric guitars and Jimmy Carter was on the distorted TV set, carrying a coat over his shoulder as if he were walking in a Camel cigarette ad.
The house couldn't contain Tim and me either. We paced about the living room for a while, then moved to the country. A wise yoga teacher had once told us that one should have as much liquid in his system as possible to reduce the pull of a sweater we stepped for a 12-pack at the liquor store.
Such noise was what we least wanted so we climbed the tall, grassy hill on the edge of the farm for solace. We sat on the summit on ground matted by a cow that had given birth the week before and watched the wind and rain blow through the cracks and howling dogs was all around as we looked down on ML. Bleu, north of our own peak.
"I heard Mt. Blue's just made of wrecked cars covered over with dirt," Tim said, as we shared our last beer. "That would kinda be" the romance out of skiing down it for me.
"Look at the city's lights for romance," said Iaowni Street's lights were lined up in a nest row in the distance, twinkling like an evening show. "Arent those a beautiful light?"
"Yeah," he said, "reminds me of being on vacation as a kid and finally makin' it to a big city and waking up in the back seat to watch all the lights just flicker by."
"Yeah, you get things for staying between them," he said. "like money. And you're always supposed to want more lights and to keep the carriage in control the carnival, every kid wants that."
Just stay within the limits. I don't know, I don't think I can do it for long though."
There was a long silence before I said, "Well, you are right," and just those lights this summer, I put to KEY.
We laughed and siped from the last beer. With some beer buddies I think about wiping the rim of the can before I sip but not after. I polished off the last half-inch of backwash.
"Watty say," he said, picking up and tossing a bunked hunt of dug during the attack.
So we stumbled down the hill to where our friends were bagged out in the grass watching the moon. They asked who we'd run into on the hill. They couldn't understand alone, doing for two hours and up there, alone, taking for two hours and up there, we had to get back to the city, to the lights.
With the dark recesses inside of me, that sun or even moonlight never touch, I have no trouble finding the black and terrible to dwell on. But I turn to others, like Tim, especially on those full moon nights, for the needed balance, the beautiful.
America's Most Popular Drive-In Menu 6th & Missouri
Something's Always Going on at HENRY'S
We Have a New Series of Glasses
even the evil twins cease their pummeling of the kid, as all ever fired on center,
"You!" he shouted, pointing to a confused figure at ringide. "Do you suffer from the heartbreak of split infinitives? And you! You modify your dancers' question? Do you你 suffer col distension? Do you你 shift needlessly in tense or mood—or are you shiffless?
"ARE YOUR commas spliced? Do you
know that they are capitalized?
Are you awkward, vague or reactive?"
His voice built to a roar as he continued:
"Do you have the recurring nightmare that you ARE a sentence fragment? Do you find it difficult to agree with your antecedents?
*Friends-listen to me, friends, hear what I say--do you sometimes SPEAK in your language?*
"This is it, friends, Salvation! This is your ticket to linguistic heaven, and it's called," God, Grammar, and You: Colloquial Language is the Devil's Workshop."
"I KNOW some of you are saying, 'I don't need that stuff.' Well stuff! pally! we need it, and I can show you where to get it." The place was so cool you could have
heard a post-nasal drip (and several did). A collective gasp was released as he held up his small book, which seemed to emit a strange glow.
With that the Avenger flashed the tiny book in the faces of the unholy pair, she shrieked, covered their eyes and scurried away to the sound of the crowd's hisses.
the place was so quiet you could have
WITHIN MINUTES the Avenger was surrounded by pairs and pairs of clammy hands forking over $1.95 plus postage for a copy of the marvelous volume.
"Well, there's one battle won for Grammar, Kid—but there's still a long war ahead of it," he said to his hapless partner, who was still dazeed by the thumping he'd taken.
"Still," the pouting Kid muttered to himself, "I could of won."
American Civil Liberties Union of Kansas
A Publick Meeting
will commence at 7:30 p.m., WEDNESDAY, JULY 14, 1976 at ye ole gathering spot "THE COMMUNITY BUILDING" to discuss the timely and relevant topic of
"The Rights of Candidates and Voters"
★ ★ ★
THE FINAL HIGHLIGHT OF THE EVENING! There will be a discussion about the choice of your school to vote in this organization. Now is your chance to exercise your right to vote in this organization.
Jim Lawing, ACLU of Kansas president, will explore the rulings that affect the rights of voters, including residency requirements, mail registration and literacy tests. Also featured is an examination of the controversial Federal Elections Act of 1974 and the challenges that have been raised against it.
For more information contact:
Tom Wilson, 841-5867 or Richard Perkins, 842-2871
629 Quincy, Suite 203, Topeka, Kansas 66603
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