The KANSAN Comments...
PAGE SIX
Charles Sanford Skilton
The death yesterday of Charles Sanford Skilton, professor of organ at the University, marks the end of a long, successful career in music.
THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 1941.
Professor Skilton had been connected with the school of fine arts at the University since 1903. From that time until 1915 he was dean of the school of fine arts. After his retirement as dean, he served as a professor until the time of his death.
He was a graduate of Yale and studied at the Berlin Hochschule. Before coming to the University, he spent several years as director of music in Winston-Salem, N.C.
He was not interested exclusively in music. Astronomy and his deep interest in his students were two hobbies to which he devoted much thought.
Professor Skilton was noted for his Indian music. His "Two Indian Dances" are in the repertoire of many major symphony orchestras of America, and are heard on the broadcasting systems of England, France, Japan, Germany, and the United States.
The life of Charles Sanford Skilton ended yesterday, but he will live forever in the music he has written and in the hearts of his students everywhere who will remember him not only as a teacher but as an understanding man who gave of his knowledge and time to make their own lives richer.
Price of Madness
Not the least of the bad aspects of war is that it costs so much. How anything that is fundamentally a breaking down process could be so expensive might amaze us if we weren't so used to it. World War II costs will be unknown to us for some time, but if destruction continues at its present rate, we may soon expect something bigger and better in I.O.U.'s.
One estimate puts the total economic cost of the last war at $331,600,000,000. Broken down, the total represents the following expenditures:
(1). Munitions and machines of war during the four years of fighting, 3180,000,000,000.
(2) Property losses on land, $29,960,000,000.
(3) Losses to shipping, $6,800,000,000. (4) Production losses through diverted and non-economic production, $45,000,000,000.
Famous and well-worn is the table compiled by the editor of Scholastic magazine in 1934. His research shows that the cost of the first World War would have been sufficient to furnish (1) every family in England, Belgium France, Germany, Russia, the United States Canada, and Australia, with a $2,500 house on a $500 one-acre lot with $1000 worth of furniture. (2) A $5,000,000 library for every community of 200,000 inhabitants in these countries. (3) A $10,000,000 university for every such community. (4) A fund that at five per cent interest would yield enough to pay indefinitely $1,000 a year to an army of 125,000 teachers and 125,000 nurses, and still leave enough to buy every piece of property in France and Belgium at a fair market price.
Now we're in for a second try, the expenses of which are going to make the first war look like a small time poker game.
You Need A Vacation
You need a vacation. Not at Easter time or next summer, but now. We are not advising that just before midsemester tests begin you
blithely pack your bag and journey to the southern beaches. We advocate a vacation you take for yourself every day, not a vacation by order of the Board of Regents.
Most of us, living almost automatically in the grip of a weekly schedule, look forward to some future letup. We forget that, with planning, we can pack into short daily intervals all the essentials of a protracted holiday—a change of scene, change of pace, and—most important—change of habit.
When you find that regular trip to the coke dispensary is failing to be the pause that refreshes, then is the time to do something. The daily vacation must be more than a mere cescation of class-going and studying. It must be not only a definite break with the routine of external compulsion but a positive rendezvous with pleasure.
Don't say you haven't the time. If a President of the United States could set aside ten minutes a day for self-freedom in the form of reading poetry, as Theodore Roosevelt did, surely a Mid-Western university student—or professor—isn't too busy to find a daily interval he can tag his own.
One of the busiest men on the campus spends his daily vacation reading "Arabian Nights," and a certain professor, whose natural habitat is Fraser hall, is adding to his photograph collection by snapping scenes of the "daily drama" during the extra minutes of the lunch hour.
Give yourself a preventive treatment for bookworm pallor, library fever, or just plain college popularitis. Take a daily vacation.
OFFICIAL BULLETIN UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS
Vol. 38 Thursday, March 13, 1941 No.105
Notices due at Chancellor's office at 3 p.m. on day before publication during the week, and at 11 a.m. on Saturday for Sunday issue.
COLLEGE FACULTY: The faculty of the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences will not meet on Tuesday, March 18.—Deane W. Malott, president.
EL ATENEO: The movies on Mexico will be shown at 4 o'clock tomorrow instead of 3:30 as was previously announced. They will be shown in Room 9, F.S.-Merle E. Simmons .
KAPPA PHI: Pledging services, Friday night at 7:00 at Price's 1209 Tennessee. A very important Pledge and Cabinet meeting immediately following. If you can't come be sure and have permission to be excused—Kathryn Schaake.
LE CERCLE FRANCAIS: Le Cercle Francais will hold a banquet at 6:30, March 20, at Evans Hearth. All members and others interested should sign up in the French office before March 19—Robert Pyle.
NOTICE TO ALL STUDENTS: Dr. E. T. Gibson will be available for personal conferences at Watkins Memorial Hospital on Tuesday afternoons from 2 to 5. Appointments should be made at the Watkins Memorial Hospital—Ralph I. Canuteson.
TOWN MEETING: K.U. Town meeting will be held, as usual, in the Main Lounge of the Union Building at 8:30, this evening, to listen to "Town Hall of the Air" and discuss the topic, "Shall We Guarantee Peace in the Pacific?"—Keith Spalding, Union Activities Committee.
Y. W.C.A.: The annual Girl Reserve training course, open to all junior and senior girls planning to teach, will meet for the opening class Tuesday, March 18. Details may be obtained at Henley House or the Office of Education—Mary Helen Wilson.
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Student Paper of THE UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS Lawrence, Kansas
Subscription rates, in advance, $3.00 per year, $1.75 per semester. Published at Lawrence, Kansas, daily during the summer and on Tuesday, into the annual class matter September 1914, at the post office at Lawrence, Kansas, under the set of March 3, 1879.
Kansan Reporter Visits Lawrence Evening School Finds K.U. Students
By MIRIAM ABELE
"Put that history book down and come along! You can study some other time."
My roommate stood in the doorway with her notebook under her arm. It was Tuesday night, and she had only 20 minutes to get to her shorthand class in the Lawrence evening school. Persuasion wasn't necessary; any excursion sounded like a good deal to me when compared with who was practical the Protestant Revolt.
"Our adult education program is somewhat different from that in other cities," he said. "Lawrence has no large industrial population, so we include few technical trade courses in our program." Laughing he added, "I guess you would call ours more of a hobby school than a trade school." But the class bell interrupted our conversation, and with a class schedule to direct me, I started out to visit the various classes. When I reached the end of the first floor corridor, I heard peculiar sounds issuing from a lighted classroom.
Only a few of the many windows in the Liberty Memorial high school were lighted, but inside, students of all ages waited for classes to begin.
My roommate disappeared leaving me with the smiling director, Ralph E. Graber, who is also printing instructor in the Liberty Memorial high school.
Inside, absorbed students were intently watching their instructor, Jose Hidalgo, Jr., a graduate student of the University. The peculiar sounds turned out to be Spanish conversation. There on the front row were three of my fellow students in Spanish II. So this was why they were getting along so well! Before long, I learned that the middle-aged couple near the window planned to go to Mexico next summer. They had enrolled in the class to learn their hotel and restaurant Spanish.
Becoming hopelessly confused with the rapid questions and answers tossed about by the Spanish students, I withdrew to look for the commercial classes. These classes were, by far, the largest, and they had the most varied student enrollment. My roommate
who was practicing to increase her typing speed, was sitting beside a white-haired woman, who was learning to type for the "fun of it." The beginning shorthand class was a study in concentration. College women, sales girls, housewives, husbands, and grandmothers were all intently concerned with making heirglyphics.
The pounding going on in the home decoration class could be heard some distance away. When I opened the door, I found that all the banging came from a solidly built worktable by the wall where several women were energetically manufacture. On one table were metal.
In the corner four looms were set up, each containing a rug, mat, or table runner, in various stages of manufacture. One one table were several painted trays filled with acid. They were "etching." I was told. A row of beautifully designed articles in copper, brass, pewter, and aluminum were on display in a low glass-fronted case.
The public speaking class was gathered around a small radio listening to a speech when I entered the room. The radio speaker let a "git" slip by his tongue, and 25 critical pencils made note of it. It seems that a few members of the class were on another floor of the building broadcasting their speeches over a special microphone. This program was being picked up on the radio, and the remainder of the class was taking notes on speech errors. The instructor of the class is H. L. Sutherland, who is also clerk of the board of education.
Faint strains of "Blue Hawaii caught my ear as I left the shop. The Hawaiian ensemble is under the direction of George Wongwai,
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Chloe Dell (her last name is Gubar's deep dark secret) was gullible, ready, and willing, so Mike spent the afternoon teaching her how to tell the difference between a Hill freshman and a senior woman by looking at her legs. Theme of the course was that new students have slender or shaped legs, seniors' legs look like they took the Charles Atlas course—all because of trudging up Mount Oread for four years.
ROCK CHALK TALK
By HEIDI VIETS
Mike Gubar's interests in the Oklahoma A. and M. game Tuesday night included more than reporting Jayhawk victory for the Kansas City Star. A soft-voiced little Aggie named Chloe Dell had been spotted by Gubar early in the day.
"Can't you tell that girl is a sophomore? See, she's just beginning to get those muscles." Gubar would bull.
"Why, I sho' can," Chloe Dell would coo.
Mike loved it.
Shorty Harlan had a rough time going through the spat line at Templin the other night. The custom is for the victim to crawl between the legs of the other men to be spatted. Shorty is only 6 feet 7 inches tall, and the boys found themselves riding piggy back instead of spatting.
You can fool some of the people all of the time. Neal Ukena still thinks that Elmer Zilch, fictitious famous alumnus of the journalism department, is a real person of William Allen White standing.
We think the engine queen-to-be should object to the squealching of the old custom of the lawyers' kidnapping the queen. Her grandchildren might like to hear a hair-raising "me versus 120 lawyers" tale.
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