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UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 4, 1942
The KANSAN Comments...
The Whistle Again
A familiar gesture beckons us; once again we, as students of the University, respond to the call to classes, most of us thankful for the opportunity, too. Millions of young men and women in other parts of the world are denied the advantages of higher education; but perhaps some of us here in America fail to appreciate its full value.
Education is priceless; once attained, it can never be pilfered. It isn't something we can shop around for; it isn't something that we can put off getting until tomorrow. For many the chance comes only once.
It is folly to shun the classroom because we are in war—because "we'll probably be sent off somewhere to become cannon fodder, anyway." Now, more than ever, we need youths with college training. Instead of relaxing, the college youth of America must exert even more pressure with shoulders "to the wheel."
Let's be earnest. Let's take a real interest in our classes, and remember that by doing so we are doing our part in furthering this country's chances toward winning the conflict. It will be a clever nation that comes out of this fray victoriously. We understand that nation to be the United States. Let's protect ourselves and thereby protect the nation by waging the battlle for education.
Money for Defense
In normal times, citizens of the United States fall prey to the schemes of a surprising number of enterprising swindlers. In war times, such swindlers find even greener pastures, what with everyone with a loose dime eager to contribute it to some institution which he considers charitable, and the human urge to increase dividends painlessly.
College students,protected by a slender budget,are not as easily taken in by racketeers as are their parents,but by way of warning, here are some rackets recently exposed.
One of the most recent of conception, and one of the most contemptible, because of its implied patriotism, is the defense stamp chainletter. Innocent victims are lured into mailing 25-cent defense stamps to people they never heard of, by friends who never heard of the recipient, either. The victim is assured that he will, providing the chain is not broken, receive some $750 for his outlay of 25 cents. Barring the economic impossibility of such a scheme, it is inconceivable that the chain could long remain unbroken. This racket has been, despite self-borne information to the contrary, condemned by postal authorities.
In war times, people look forward with apprehension to the period which will follow, and the old age pension swindle comes into undue prominence. Certain unscrupulous organizations comb the land seeking $1 memberships from elderly people who hope for increased pensions. The organization in question has no means for increasing any individual pension, and makes a living for its shady backers by taking advantage of aged persons who fear for their future security.
With the coming of pre-war defense production, came the defense contract chiselers. These sterling patriots promised producers to secure contracts on a fee basis. Of course, they were and are crooked, because Army and Navy contractors must guarantee they hired no one to solicit the contract on a commission basis.
These are only three examples of rackets including such time-tested money-makers as the ancient confidence game, the unlicensed travel agency, the territory right scheme, the illegitimate clothing salesman, and others of the same unsavory ilk which has plagued us for years.
Cash is becoming increasingly elusive, and costs of living are mounting steadily. The government needs all and any support it can get beyond taxation. It is imperative that we be not deluded by grafters.
People in the east want their sugar, it would seem. Two New Jersey customers in a restaurant were denied a second spoonful of sugar for their coffee, so they pitched the waiter through a plate glass window, knocking the restaurant manager unconscious and giving the grand jury one more thing to do.
We'll bet World War I veterans have wholesome scorn for the Fort Monroe sergeant who, when fumbling through his pockets for some papers needed to address a formation of soldiers, dislodged and dropped two lollipops.
OFFICIAL BULLETIN UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS
Vol. 39 Wednesday, February 4, 1942 No. 77
Notices due at News Bureau, 8 Journalism, at 10 a.m. on day of publication during the week, and at 11 a.m. on Saturday for Sunday issue.
Mathematics Club meeting Thursday, Feb. 5. Mee in F.S. 222 at 4:15 for refreshments and in F.S. 203 at 4:45 for speech. Howard Barnett will speak on "Gambling." Every one is welcome to hear this exposure of favorite gambling methods—H. G. Kolsky, vice-pres.
Tau Sigma will meet Thursday night at 7:30 Sonata and Sunken Cathedral; 8:30 Regimentation and Satire. Anna Jane Hoffman, Pres.
NOTICE TO ALL UNIVERSITY STUDENTS—Dr. E. T. Gibson is at the Watkins Memorial Hospital each Tuesday afternoon from 2 to 4:30 P. M. for discussion with students on problems of mental hygiene. Appointments may be made through the Watkins Memorial hospital. Ralph I. Canuteson, Director, health service.
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Lawrence, Kansas
Student Paper of THE UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS
Publisher ... Kenneth Jackson
Men's Student Council: The next regular meeting will be on Monday, Feb. 9, at 8:00 p.m. in the Pine Room.—Fred Lawson, Secretary.
EDITORIAL STAFF
Editor-in-chief ... Charles Pearson
Editorial associates ... Maurice Barker and
                Floyd Decaire
NEWS STAFF
Feature editor ... Bill Feeney
Managing editor ... Heidi Viets
Campus editors ... Betty Abels and Floyd Decaire
Sports editor ... Chuck Elliott
Society editor ... Saralena Sherman
News editor ... Ralph Coldren
Sunday editor ... John Conard
United Press editor ... Bob Coleman
BUSINESS STAFF
Business manager ... Frank Baumgartner
Advertising manager ... Wally Kunkel
Subscription rates, in advance, $3.00 per year, $1.75 per semester. Published at Lawrence, Kansas, daily during the school year except September 17, 1940; later entered as second class teacher, June 17, 1940; post office at Lawrence, Kansas, under the Act of March 3, 1879.
Rock Chalk Talk
BETTY WEST
Enrollment vignettes: King Lear of the College office slowly going mad as she explains to a truulent sophomore that he has to be a sophomore to take sophomore subjects. . . . And who was the beglamoured one who gave atmosphere to the whole thing in a mink coat, a hat with a veil and one perfect orchid? . . . Dean Paul B. Lawson, facing an incipient bottleneck, as he tries to clear the pen at noon, by rapping gently on the table with an Eberhardt Medium Hard lead pencil.
Harking back to Final Week, two particularly sordid instances have come to mind:
'Mole' Foster, Phi Psi pledge, slept through a very large and important final one chill morning, because pledge brother Jules MacKallor who was supposed to call him at Final time, had already left Lawrence early that morning to hitch-hike home to regain his health.
The next morning at breakfast, some of the actives were congratulating Don on the fact that he had not had to answer the phones all evening.
Out in West Hills, the D.U.'s report a striking instance of Freshman ingenuity. It was Don Fink's duty as a baby D.U. to answer all the phones one evening during Final Week. From eight until well after midnight, the D.U. phone was inarticulate and quiet fell in huge chunks all over the D.U. house.
"Oh I arranged all that beforehand," explained the Fearless Fink. "I just called the operator and told her not to put any calls through to our house." Add famous last words.
Sigma Chi Jack Doolittle played a famous one night stand down at the Crystal a couple of nights ago. Doolittle, it seems, is the type who takes his drama seriously and the "Wolf Man" made a deep and lasting impression upon him. Not only the general clientele but a few passers by are now wondering who the gentleman was who was playing 'spookypuss' with such mad abandon in Russell Atha's car.
Pratt, Kansas is still rocking with the great social faux pas which Phi Delt Bud Weir pulled between semesters. Bud went home with Thad Robbins to Peaceful Pratt to rest up a bit. Awaking one morning, and finding himself null and void of money, Bud went downtown to cash a check, which was all right in itself. But the horrible part of it all is that Bud took his business to Pratt's other bank, the one that is NOT owned by Thad's immediate family.
Groundhog Goes Riding On Horns of a Dilemma
Ed. Note—This story is printed with sincere apologies to Thornton W. Burgess, author of "Little Stories for Bedtime", the U. S. Weather Bureau, and anyone who thinks literature is one of the fine arts.
and a late cold spring would follow; if not, he would stay outdoors and the mild weather would come early.
Mr. Groundhog paced restlessly up and down in his warm little burrow. His eyes, usually bright and beady, were sunk far back in his head, and his drawn expression told a silently eloquent story of many a sleepless night.
You see, Mr. Groundhog is a lover of tradition, and what is more, a patriot. And it has been a long-standing tradition that on the second day of February of every year he comes out of his burrow to see if the sun in shining brightly enough for him to cast a shadow. If it is, he would scamper back into his home,
Things Are Different
This annual ceremony used to be a lot of fun for Mr. Groundhog, for he was a born show-off and loved to pose for the newspaper cameramen and reporters. But now a war was raging in some distant land, and the echoes of conflict had worked their way even into the burrow of Mr. Groundhog. The American government had clamped down restrictions on weather reports, for the enemy is interested in weather conditions all over the world. How could Mr. G. make his prediction and still not give aid and comfort to the enemy?
The enemy was hiding in the Big Woods, at least some of them were. The little fellow had seen them. He knew most of the newspapermen, and liked them, but not these three men—the big man with the close-cropped hair, and the dark-skinned man who followed at his heels like a well-trained dog, and the yellow-skinned man who was always standing in a gopher hole. The trio watched Mr. Groundhog's home consistently, and he knew that they were waiting for the big moment.
What to do? Tradition meant a lot to Mr. Groundhog, and it meant even more to the people outside the Big Woods. But this business of giving aid and comfort to the enemy won't do at all. Then all of a sudden the little creature's furry shoulders straightened; he stopped pacing; an enigmatic smile crossed his lips, and the life came back into his eyes for the first time in weeks.
**
Outside, not very well hidden in the bushes were the newspapermen. The fat chap with the Speed Graphic glanced upward and adjusted the lens opening on his camera. Not too much sunlight, but probably enough to make the little so-and-so cast a shadow. The reporter licked nervously at the point of his pencil. Just about eleven o'clock; the groundshould come out pretty soon. And in some bushes not far away, the three strange men watched, motionless. Mr. G. Goes to Town
Then Mr. Groundhog poked his stubby nose out of the burrow. His black forefeet dug into the leaves and dirt at the entrance, and he pulled himself out into the open. The light hurt his eyes for just a moment, but he could see the people
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