PAGE TWO
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
TUESDAY, MAY 23, 1933
University Daily Kansan
Official Student Paper of THE UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS
James Patterson
Managing Editor...ARNOLD KRETZMANN
Margaret Greer
Campus Editor
Society Editor
Gretchen Gruppe
Sport Editor
Paul Woodman
Sunday Editor
James Patterson
Alumni Editor
Howard Turtle
Advertising Manager...MARGARET INCE
Robert Whitman...Margaret Inegan
Jane Bates...Alfreda Frost
Bilfrey Kren...Betty Millington
Marina Javenee...Alfreda Frost
Reed Smith...Arnold Freidman
Dorothy Smith...David Smith
Business Office K. U. 68
Business Office K. U. 68
Light Night Connection, Business Office 2791 B
Night Connection, Business Office 2791 B
Published in the afterword, five from a book by
Nicholas H. Kimmel, Ph.D., with contributions
from the Fronze of the Department of
Kannan, from the Fronze of the Department of
Washington University.
The following editorials are part of those winning honorable mention in the Editorial Prize-Award contest, reprinted with their criticisms.
KARL MARX
One hundred and fifteen years ago Monday Karl Heinrich Marx was born. As students of a university we might do well to consider that brilliant Doctor of Philosophy of the University of Jena with a bent for economics, "who welcomed every progressive movement with the enthusiasm and sober judgment of a lover of truth."
Had he so desired he could have been an exploiter of men, since he came of well-to-do parents, but he chose to devote his life to the betterment of the common people by making clear to them the thing for which they were really struggling.
History provides no parallel to the rapidity with which Marx's ideas have penetrated the consciousness of the masses throughout the world. He pleaded that poverty, being inexcusable, should be abolished. He was "radical" in his desire for a system that would give bread, pècee, sécurité, freedom and brotherhood. His was the social philosophy that must play a more dominant role in future historical developments.—Allen Coubourgen, 'cumel.
This is temperate, courageous, am well-written.
VAGABONDING
Some students come to the University with their plans for the future well in mind. They have decided upon their life work, and are able to concentrate their learning activities toward this end. They do not have much trouble in picking out courses, and are perfectly well served by the present plan of education. Set against this class is another group, the members of which haven't the slightest idea what vocation they wish to pursue, and therefore don't know what work to take in college in preparation. They waste two or three years of their college life aimlessly shifting from one course to another, vainly trying to orient themselves.
For such a group, the plan known as vagabonding at Syracuse University is a most worthwhile aid. Students at Syracuse are given the privilege of attending certain representative classes in every department in the university. They get an opportunity to find out the subject matter, the possibilities of the course, and its adaptability for them. By this judicious sampling process, they get a taste of the varying courses of study in the university and have a knowledge that is of immense benefit to them in picking out a life work and shaping their courses so as best to prepare for it.
Such a plan could be worked out here. Certainly there is a need for it, and certainly it would be of immeasurable benefit to those who have not yet made up their minds about their major. Aside from the value such students would receive from the arrangement, benefit would accrue also
to others. Those students who confine their attention too closely to one department, with the resultant loss of a well-rounded experience, would be helped. They could take advantage of the vagabonding plan, and the broadening effect of the wider scope of their contacts would be extremely beneficial. It would result in a broader vision on a wider horizon; in other words, education in the true sense of the word.-Paul Miner, c33
This indicates that someone is keeping his eye open to fresh promise in the academic world of today.
THE TWILIGHT HOUR
Soft clouds drifting through the sky; the pale pinks and yellows of sunset giving way to darker shades of blue and purple. The whole world hums and sings during the twilight hour.
Low-swung roadsters glide slowly down the street. Boys and girls ride serenely and happily by, singing and laughing as they answer the call of spring. Gypsies and vagabonds are they all, floating away from care and restraint. A happy world revels in the last few minutes of a dying day.
The dusk grows thicker, the light dimmer. Cars become less frequent; the songs are only memories fading away. Twilight has lived its short hour, and as the tiny, silver thread of a new moon
rises over the hills, the darkness of night envelopes the campus lanes and trails.—Jo Ann Grinstead, c'34.
The editorial is well written on a theme occasionally desirable; it has pie-ble content.
Second prize poem in the Carruth poetry contest.
THE DEATH OF THE TRAITOR
A Dramatic Poem
by
Roberto, lord of the castle
Cinderella
Guido, under the command of Roberto.
Scene: a castle on the seacoast of Italy.
The tower to the castle. Roberto looking over the battlements.
Guido— No defence?
he will come here. they lied the river
I hear the splash of water, and the
shouts.
Judo—Our boats are ready; the wind Is with us. In our boat rides the treasure.
The people huddle there upon the shore.
And all his swarming devils.
My told:
Look to that treasure.
See it rendered safe again to the King Under his own eyes.
Under his own eyes.
Guido—12"M. lord, Roberto
Guido— I? —My lord Roberto,
The gold is in your boat.
Roberto— Make the boat yours.
For I remain.
Guido— castle? Remain? Here? In this
Guido— It has been many months Since I have heard you jest, my lord. Roberto— I do not jest. And so I trust you, Guido.
To take that treasure on to Sicily. Farewell. Infinite thanks are all unworthy
For your unbounded service. So, farewell.
Trusting yourself to Bardo. The Duke Bardo
Like old men. Yet, I beg you, never
stay.
most wise, my lord,
Not to defend this castle, whose old
storms
Clutch at each other when the wind's
Guido--You were most prudent and most wise, my lord.
Bardo's a madman too—like Death grown mad.
Our gates let in the swart Sicilian horde,
You mind the sad day when at your command
Count Aldo, called the Boar for savagery,
Guido—I am your vassal in fact, deed,
and heart.
through 'ny'son.
Grew dead in me—But come—no
may it, Guild.
You have been silent through these
wear months.
With any seemly grace upon the wind,
I would not, as he comes, abandon ...
I murmured not, nor muttored;
though my soul
Roberto--You do not so, good friend. 1
send you forth
To dangle from these battlements, or dance
Paces a prison for his counselling
To take the ransom of the Tuscan
He hegams in flame and sword. Though I am old.
duke, not slay him.
He clumses in dawn.
I take that treasure on to Sicily.
Whom could I trust but you? And
you?
single from these battements, or
dont
Will never slay me. Fear not for my life.
fere to remain. I have good reason. hardo
OFFICIAL UNIVERSITY BULLETIN
The Band will board buses at the Union bus depot at 7:30 a.m. tomorrow for the Karens City trip that day. Report at the bus station, 684 Missouri street
Noticees due at Chancellor's Office at 11 a.m. on regular afternoon publication days and 11:30 a.m. s. m. Saturday for Sunday issues.
MacDowell will meet at 8 o'clock Thursday evening, May 25, in the rest room in central Administration building, to attend the recital of the William Howie. After the recital there will be a short business and farewell meeting. Refreshments will be served.
HOWARD JOHNSON, President.
There will be a very important meeting Thursday afternoon, May 25, at 4:30 o'clock, in Professor Pilcher's studio. Election of officers will be held at this
Vol. XXX Tuesday, May 25, 1933 No. 174
DAND:
CHRISTIAN SCIENCE ORGANIZATION
The regular meeting will be held at 4:30 tomorrow in room 22 Administration building. JESSIE PICKELL, President.
Due to the farewell varsity Saturday night there will be no mid-week variance tomorrow night. OZWIN RUTTLEGE, Manager.
MEN'S GLEE CLUB:
MACDOWELL:
The last regular meeting of the School year of Pen and Scroll will be held this evening. All members and pledges please attend.
The last W.S.GA. Council meeting of the year will be held this evening at 7 o'clock in room 5 of the Memorial Union building. LILA LAWSON.
I know not how my sad disgrace wil come,
MID-WEEK VARSITY:
not, Guido.
Oh, haste! Farewell! The vanguard mounts the slope.
you much. (Exit)
oberta> If truth to untruth be a sin.
W. S. G. A. COUNCIL:
Shall weigh a sin like mine. Now there below
ear, Will spout with flaming pitch and
How cautiously they creep, hidden by shields:
My guido,
My curse is yours. Yet not on such as
place,
Now silent, sinister, quiet to eye and
They think that of a sudden all the place,
Now silent, sinister, quiet to eye and ear.
They know not.
It is a tomb with one clatter.
Bardo. He points to the beach. And now he laughs.
inflaming pitch and stinking smoke,
Shower arrows clang and clatter.
now he laughs.
And those about him laugh. Why
LYMAN FIELD.
laughs Bardo?
I know he says, the traitor, see, is
The cur that bites and scamper, barely worth.
The stone that we fling after. I am glad
That I stand here to face him. They approach. They tear at the portcullis and
He'll mount the stairs. I never saw his eyes
In anger on me. Still I have my sword And this small vial for death. And yet thrice coward
and the gate.
He'll mount the stairs. I never saw his
vet thrice coward
To die now. And dead, might I not
now. And dead, might I not seem
seamill. By Caith. and gladiator.'
Bardo— So once was I Betrayed. Bardo—
stand And bear his eyes. One come. He!
And so you are abandoned. You be-traved.
Roberto—My lord, I did remain—
Berto—So once was I
To take a treasure to on Sicily's king Bardes—When follow you your truss-
Guido- No mackery! This castle is no traitor's
Guido has gone to Sicily, Duke Bardo:
To render me. But there was Guido,
and he makes you leave. Where is
Guido? Dead?
roberto - (Kneeling) I render you myself, this castle.
His father robbed that I was.
Bardo - I fashioned something once
thought a friend.
Guido?—There was a treasure—I remained—
Did I then scowl and rant? So had I struck
He went the only man whom I could trust
Out of fair seemings and my simple faith;
The smoothly smiling friend within my court.
tale of mine
That was a madman's treasure—left
a bribe;
Basic
Tend to defend, that vicious turns and rubs
Though from its quiet all confusion comes—
on her ears;
I've seen the sorry picture; dwelt
upon it.
Taken a bribe to cover madness. Now I stand before you sane. O Bardo, Bardo,
Roberto—and this you have believed?
gave Is half a legend; old;—you should have had
That knew the ultimate moment for your flight
My life and yours; this castle here I gave
you!
With scurrilous terms to anger, out
upon
through from its waist all over it.
But such there was not. All your act in this
Hidden in its approach from all save you,
upon it,
It is all shadow. So have I thought
An sailing loyalty until the hour
the fleet of Sicily crept near the
You are now that you were?—Ther
false, thrice false;
orbed
or taunted you that day, had driven
false, thrice false;
All smiling loyalty until the hour
Or taunted you that day, had driven you
In some hearts does a sort of madness leap
A better castle to betray me in;
And, when Erilia turned to fear
All night I rode along the mountain ways.
Was coolest treachery premeditated.
It was bad but madness. How
else such, Bartel.
Aldo had I not been mad, the winter rain
changed their dress. Had I not taken
laybreak there
Along the coast had cooled my main-
nad. The bulks of those great ships at
To bar the gates, send messengers to you.
Under a truce, bringing much gold for bribe;
They sought for haven, castle and little bay.
It matters not—yet, when one's made men mad.
lended you?
It matters not—yet, when one's made
Bardo—And wherein had I thus of-
founded non.'
One would not risk the cruelty again.
robberb - You 'hever guessed? Then
should I laugh and weep
things I dreamed,
And, as life's discords clash about
I have grown old as death in these few months;
I dream no glories now; once days there were
few months;
I dream no glories now; once day
When I beheld myself ride splendid home
there were
When I beheld myself ride splendid
From victories; heard high huzzas;
wild cheers.
wild cheers.
All boys do so. And then you chose
Count Aldo:
To lead your army; so was I. One
To lead your army; so was I one awaked
Budo—Anger that I chose Aido? Madness came
That armies and castles, towers and
Wans ind towns,
the safety and the glory of the land
Nature not? No,
In all our years of such. I chose Count Aldo.
His face grown scarred with seekin wars.
Count Aldo,
His hair grown gray in meditating wars.
His face grown scarred with seeking out his foes— You that had only played in tournaments,
Or viewed a single or two from bill.
or viewed a siege or two from hills remote.
That you should swell me into such a fool?
To lead my army! What folly had I done
fool?
Roberto—Mine was the full
Bardo— Would it not now seem well
What ask you here? A dungeon, or a rope?
And yet I think I could not send you down
knowr No mare, no more
Spok not your thought of that! In every word
Bardo Thought you to hear Words soft? Why, now, have you remained
I have been sadly cruel from hate of you.
I could not see you jerked at a rope's end.
While I have wandered in this silent place;
Remote from light to molder in the damp;
souls in hell may envy purgatory
So have I yearned for hope. Strange
thoughts have come
Write in the air.
Roberto— Strange thoughts have
In the great lake that's midmost in this land.
A little isle, and on it one small tower That needs a master. Might I serve you there
Roberto—You trust me not at all.
My fool's ape up to trust. You shall away To Slippery Shallow Water
To Sicily. No manacles, no chains;
Yet three shall watch you there. That
bribing king.
He's such as can employ you; he will have
Bardo- What that you do? (Wrests the
vial from his hand)
back—
You clap your hand upon your sword?
away.
Stubbous ambassadors to stab 'l' the
Wrath flickers briefly in dead souls,
and out.
I never shall go on to. Sicily. (Drinks the poison.)
Roberto No need to wrest it
from me,
An evil thing whose death will be Earth's gain?
It holds naught now. Why wrest it from me,
Bardo—I would not have my cousin
Stelly
his man.
Roberto— Was that the fear I saw
Bardo-
Do you trick me in this?
Try trick. Quietly let us wait and
the trick.
And yet I think we shall not doubt for long.
Bardo—This vial has odor of a Roman drug. . . .
Your eyes grow dull and weary.
(At the door) Ho. within!
(At the door) Ho, within!
One fetch the leech Metalfa. Use all speed!
All hatred shall dissolve its noisome cloud.
Resentment cool its fever in you blood. Am. Brode.
blood.
Aye, Bardo, let me rest upon you
arm.
cloud;
Resentment cool its fever in you
Think of me as the dead. The dead bad, sins.
But now, in being gone, they vex no more.
Bardo - Alas, you need not die to bring me peace!
I think you never lost me. Three days
Think of me as the dead. The dead had sins,
But now in being there.
There comes a weariness upon me more
Than I have known. I am dead,
Bardo;
They brought a splendid stallion int camp.
A pirates ransom, and I musing thought,
Roberto--So had this never been
might have known.
A. pirate's ransom, and I musing thought.
Bardo,
While I shall sleep.—What would I
He for Roberto—all as if this cloud Of madness, fire, and pain had never been.
Your favor ever. This dark grows cold.
I have a fear that you will leave me, Barlo.
It was the fateful moment and my wrath;
I kenn not then that Sicily's ships drew near;
white 'I shalt sleep—what would I
sav?—In truth.
It is not given all of us to live in strength nor fail
*in strenght, nör tail*
*Bardo— Roberto! You are strong!*
(Dies.)
The Fable of the Unflinching Heroine
By GEORGE ADE
NCBE there was a Good Woman who, next to Mary Queen of Scots, probably suffered more than one other. Prominent
Lady of whom we have Record. It will be recalled that Mary started out as a proud Monarch, and finished up as a Martyr, while Mrs. Wambo started out as a Democratic Fixture and became the queen of Scots and her head cut off. Mrs. Wambo did not go quite that far, but she underwent a Major Operation, which seemed just as important, and which was preceded by as much Suspense, Doubt and Trepidation, which racked the Royal Prisoner.
Mrs. Wambo, before she got into the Jam, had been married so many Years that she had concealed all the Records and changed the Subject when some careless Friend began to dig Up dates. He was remembering the Spanish-American tails were all blurred, because she was so young at the Time.
Whatever may have been her Vintage, she had a holy Horror of looking, or feeling old, or acting as if she was old. And other Bridgers as "Girls" and would warn any Bachelor, on the slightest occasion, that her Husband was jealous.
Exit for the Seven Sutherland Sisters
She had a perfectly laudable Ambition to keep on looking an Ingneus until they chipped her down. When she got red in the face after dancing continuously for about forty minutes, she kidded herself that the High Color was the Flush of Girlhood instead of a warning against Apoplexy.
She wore Beads and took a swing at a Golf Ball once in a while and used to sit out in the Evening and sing with the College Boys before the Uukulele was pushed aside by the Saxophone and Cross-Word Puzzle.
Ira. Wambo recalled that, in her Seminary days, it was the longing of any sub-Dub to be a Sutherland, so she would reach to the Ankles. In fact, it seemed that Long Hair had been the Rage from the Days of Eve, Cleopatra, for instance, for instance, possibly would have caught cold if the Modern Stile
It happened that one morning Mr. Wambo awoke and discovered that the Seven Sutherland Sisters had become a Joke. It may be remembered that these Girls had Tresses which swept the Ground and were copious all the way down. When all of the girls ran into her behind she was like that of Nisera Fols.
From this Preamble it will be evil deed that her name should have been Ms. Poise do De Leon. If there was any other reason to hurry to hunt him up and dive in, he hurried.
and been in Vogue In Coventry in the 11th Century.
Imagine the Shock which came to Mrs. Wambo when she learned that the Flappers, instead of wearing it down to the Ankles, had decided to wear it only as far as the first Corner of the Aisle, and Are, residing in Paris, had taken a Tip from the Dutch Kids and Buster Brown and had amputated the whole Works just below the Ears. It seemed that within 24 hours all the Cuties in the world were throbbing with Excitement, so if they would dare to follow Suit.
The answer was not long delayed. All of the Young Ones fell for the Fad. Within a short time the Village Barber Shop ceased to be the Place of Happiness, and the Pictures in the Police Gazette. It became a Salon—the Social Center of the Community, congested, for Hours at a time, with the very Fick and Flower of young Womanhood. Prominent Citizens who did not know how themselves began to resemble Ernest Torrence, all busled up for a Western.
Hairpins and Side Combs suddenly became a Drug on the Market but all the Factories make Toilet Soap begin to work Night Shifts.
When the new Craze began to sweep the Woodlands and Prairies, Mrs. Wambo spoke right up and said it was important to be a mother of about a Women's Chief Glory being her Hair and she couldn't imagine what some of the Young Girls were thinking of when they sacrificed a child and that they had been working for Years.
Warm. Mambo stuck to her Waves and Frizzes and the artificial Stuffing and any suggestion that some day she might join the great Sisterhood of Bobs would have given her the Hilby-Jibbles. Besides, she and the other young Matrons who told at the Card Tables every day predicted that the whole Thing was just a temporary wound which fallen would be in an awful Hole when the Styles shifted back and they tried to wear it long again.
As Month after Month passed by and the number of Victims increased and Rumor had it that Eileis Janis, Carrie Chapman Catt, Elise Ferguson, Ethel Burrmore, Bebe Daniels, Queen Benedict had succured, the situation began to look serious. It seemed that a good many Girls who were no longer Kittens and who in the Old Days, would have been knitting instead of Jazz-Jumping, had been clipped and were exhibiting their Necks for the first time.
Mr. Wambo began to notice that the Missus, instead of saying that any Woman beyond 30 who got siblinged was a Huskey, began to stall and ask if she should be let in when he thought it was Dignified of a Woman who had a Daughter in Smith College to trim herself up like a Soubrette and try to step out when she was home. Mr. Wambo created a Home Atmosphere for her Husband and Children. Mr. Wambo was twice foxy and he said he thought that the Modern Woman had a Right to do anything which would not be harmed. He told the Signs and seen the Handwriting on the Wall. He knew that Friend Wife was getting ready to Fall and, when the Time came, she wanted to make out that she had been talked into.
She showed him in the paper where Mrs. Pillsbury of Rockfall, Pa., had been Bobbed at the age of eighty-two and said it made her look and feel Forty Years Younger and she wanted to know if he didn't think it was ridiculous but he said that if Mrs. Pillsbury was satisfied, he thought it was Great.
Then there came a Day when she pulled a False Giggle and said that Lib and Gert were both after her to go to a Place in the Union Central Building where there was a man who had learned it in New York and who could advise one as to which Style he wanted. But the Intention of going but it was a Fact that a great many Women ever so much older than She had been done over and you'd be surprised what a Change it made. Mr. Wambo, a Diplomat of the First Water, said that no matter what she did to the Hirsute Crop she would always look like women. And then she wanted to make the Supreme Venture to go ahead and he hoped that her Conscience would be her Guide.
Weeks before the big event even, one but Mrs. Wambo knew that she was slipping. She kept on protesting that the Whole Thing was silly but she could not talk about anything else proved that she was a Marked Women.
Finally she hung the whole Responsibility on to Wambo. She said that if he insisted on it, she would go ahead and have it done.
Then came the tense Weeks during which she was trying to decide whether to have a Boyish Bob or a Shingle Bob. Or how to hook Dingle-Dangles or some Scatkins.
On the Day when she went to the Union Central Building the Sun stood still and Traffic was suspended. She went through the Orden absolutely alone except for Lib and Gert Ella and Jess. After it was over she didn't know whether to go and sit in Pea-ter or hurry Home and hide in a closet.
Just after she took the Fatal Step a Convention of Hair-Dressers in Atlantic City decreed against the Bob, but it was a False Alarm. Mrs. Wampe is now High Priestess of the Cult and there is a Relief it is not to be compelled to hang your head out of the Bath-Room Window for Hours at a time.
MORAL: A woman is as old as her Husband tells her she is.