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UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
SUNDAY, MAY 14, 1933
Official Student Paper of THE UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS
University Daily Kansan
Editor-in-Chief  A.I. FREED BROODBECR
Associate, Publishers
James Fatterson  Charles Stuart
Managing Editor  ARNOLD KRETTZMANN
Campus Editor  Dorothy Smith
Society Editor  Gretchen Unionk
Sport Editor  Paul Woodsmann
Exchange Editor  Carol Widen
Advertising Manager  MARGARET INC
District Manager  Jack Gabralti
Robert Whitman      Margaret Ineen
Ellen Ward        Marquette Kroese
Salfrey Krosso      Betty Millington
Jim Lawrence      Alisha Murray
Ira McCarty       William Franle
Arno Krekmann     Dorothy Smith
James Hunt        Joseph
Virgin Park
Business Office K1 K-10
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Night Connection 3701 K
Published in the afternoon, five times a week and on Sunday morning, by students in the Department of Journalism of the University of Omaha on the Press of the Department of Journalism.
Subscription prices, $4.00 per month, payable in
Subscription fee, $12.00 per month.
Entered as second-order matter September 17
and returned on November 30.
SUNDAY. MAY 14. 1933
"I know that answer, but I can't think of it now." Such a statement is sure to be racing through the minds and thoughts of many students at examination time.
CRAMMING
All-night sessions of wearying review and cramming have created a barbed-wire entanglement of facts in the mind so that the answers desired are not forthcoming—a distracting phenomenon this, knowing an answer and not being able to tell it.
These students have tried hard, but they were too late. Rome was not built in a day and neither is a semester's work in any course memorized in less than a week.
Professors do not escape all responsibility for situations of this kind. As the end of the semester draws near, they discover that they must hurry to cover all the material planned for the course of study. Even now evidences may be seen which prove this point. Assignments pile up, one on the other, leaving the student no time for a systematic review and making cramming a necessity, an evil necessity, that detracts from the educational value of our college institutions rather than adding to it.
Chicago, by resolution of the council, has given to one of its councillors the entire responsibility of designating the date on which Chicagoans may don straw hats.
INCONSISTENCY
Is it possible that in such a rough and ready city as Chicago so important a problem can be turned over to one individual for solution while such a minor matter as the unpaid school teachers can go unsolved?
READY FOR THE STRUGGLE
If young people of today are the pampered and spoiled beings that so many are prone to term them, at least they have learned a lesson in their short lives and have developed a characteristic that is going to prove infinitely helpful to them as they face the problems of life.
These lean years of depression have removed all the available jobs that were so much in evidence a few years ago. The young man and young woman graduate of 1933 has a bleak outlook indeed. The schools are filled with older and more experienced teachers. The jobs in the business and professional worlds are scarce and poorly paid.
Many of the students who are being graduated this year from the University owe part or all of the cost of their education. This debt stares them in the face. The first years after being pushed into the world to swim or sink are always the hardest even without a depression, but the added disadvantage of the economic conditions make it a far more risky venture.
Yet these courageous young people are facing the problem without a tremor and with resolution. What if there are no jobs? Some way they will get by. What if they get little or nothing for their services? Still they will be
gaining valuable experience that will be helpful later. What if they do owe money? It is a debt honestly contracted and it will be paid as soon as possible.
The fortunate business conditions do not daunt them. They are ready for the battle. They will make the best of the situation and they will be better men and women for it. After the struggle is over they will know how to face the next ordeal, and that is more than a good many experienced business men can say.
THE BIG PUSH
Four more weeks and the majority of students at the University will be headed for other places than Lawrence. Many will have exhausted their financial resources, arriving at the close of the year safely only because of unknown sacrifices which may or may not have resulted in the saving of car fare home.
Disaster has threatened to overtake the sum of many students' fast dwindling pile of money, especially the money belonging to students owning cars. Lawrence has gone metropolitan.
Representatives of the law and order of this fair city have begun a campaign to enforce rigidly certain "big city" ordinances which heretofore were forgotten or ignored without subjecting the citizens to any grave dangers. Double parking is frowned upon, even if one is in a hurry. Officers ride motorcycles down the business district streets every two hours with a fellowman in a side car making chalk marks on the rear tires of the parked cars.
It appears that the benefits in forms of profits from the students on the Hill have not been sufficient to tide the situation over the three months vacation. Some other method is necessary and the results must be forthcoming in the next three or four weeks. And so, the big push is on.
HO, HUM!
It is disagreeable to go to classes with your lessons unprepared; and it is hard to sit in the library studying when the weather outside is balmy and the grass is getting greener all the time; but the hardest thing about school is getting up at 7:30 in the morning to make 8:30 classes.
Most students maintain that they do their best sleeping between 7 o'clock and 10 o'clock in the morning. Whether this is true or only a superstition, it is a certainty that at 7:30 in the morning when the alarm clock, or the call boy, or the house mother, or your room mate wakes you up to go to school, you are always in the midst of a peaceful dream and are anxious to prolong it for at least two more hours. But you roll over, stretch your legs, sleepily murmur "I don't want to go to college today," and begin the tortuous process of forcing yourself wide enough awake to get up.
Topcka is now definitely in the big-city class. The treasury department has refused to put the village clock in the new post office building.
Getting out of bed is the day's most unpleasant task. One college man sized up the situation pretty well when he said: "College wouldn't be so bad if you didn't have to get up early to go to it."
Neatness is a virtue—at times. At other times it is extremely exasperating. It is very fine for people to keep their clothes, their rooms, and their books and papers shipshape, but when they extend their activities to the belongings of other people, they become extremely exasperating.
THAT UNCOMFORTABLE VIRTUE
We happen to be so busy that we are always surrounded by a turmoil of things out of place. We rummage in drawers for letters or handkerchiefs and leave the contents strewn about the floor. We use books and leave them wherever they happen to fall. We never
OFFICIAL UNIVERSITY BULLETIN
The faculty of the College of Liberal Arts and Sciences will meet on Tuesday, May 16, at 4:30 in the auditorium on the third floor of the Administration building. Special order—Physical Education. E.H. LINDLEY.
COLLEGE FACULTY:
Sunday, May 14, 1933
Noticees due at Chancellor's Office at 11 a.m. on regular afternoon publication day and 11:30 a.m. on Saturday for Sunday issues.
Vol. XXX
COSMOPOLITAN CLUB:
There will be a social meeting of the Cosmopolitan club today at 5 o'clock A program has been planned and refreshments will be served.
No.168
After pumping up a tire on his wreck Joe College states that he is against inflation of any sort.
ABRAHAM A. ASIS, Social Chairman.
The jaded Junior remarks that his girl friend takes the anti- hoarding campaign too seriously.
MATHEMATICS CLUB:
The annual spring picnic with neighboring Mathematics clubs will be held tomorrow. All members bring 25c and meet at the Mathematics office promptly at 4 o'clock. OTIS BRUAKER, Vice President.
PHI DELTA KAPPA SCHOLARSHIP;
Quack club will hold a business meeting Wednesday, May 17, at 8 o'clock There will be election of officers and plans for the spring picnic will be made Please bring your dues. MARGARET WALKER, President.
Kappa chapter of Phi Delta Kappa, educational fraternity, for 1933-54 a scholarship of $50 to a man who is a senior in the School of Education, or an education major in the Graduate School, or to a member of Phi Delta Kappa who would give assurance that he intends to enter some field of education as a life work. Applications may be made at 310 Fraser hall on Monday, Wednesday and Friday from 11:30 to 12, on Tuesday and Thursday from 10:30 to 11, or appointment may be made by telephone. E. GALLOO, Chairman.
QUACK CLUB:
SIGMA ETA CHI
There will be a Sigma Eai Chi meeting today at 5 o'clock in the chapter room. It will be a Mother's Day and guest meeting. Mrs. L. Curtis Guise will speak on "Women of India." HAZEL RICE, Secretary.
PHYSICAL EDUCATION MAJORS:
Meet at the gymnasium at 5 p.m. sharp for the majors' plenic. All major, will plan to attend will please sure to pay $2e for Nolle Starle, Thelmint Wagner, and Riese.
Filling station construction is again on the rise. The depression is doomed.
There will be an important meeting of Pen and Scroll Tuesday, May 16, at 7:30 p.m. in room 222 West Administration building. All members and new pledges please attend.
LYMAN FIELD, President.
Columbia has signaled a new advance which will soon be taken all along the American college front. No longer can education be taken as a dogmatic prescription but the accumulated experience resulting from a student's sincere desire for knowledge.—Syracuse Daily Orange.
PEN AND SCROLL:
empty wastebaskets, and they frequently run over. We hang our clothes on chairs. Whenever the inspiration strikes us we go around and clean every thing up, and put our affairs in apple pie order ready to be torn up again. But should anyone else attempt to straighten out our books and papers and clothes for us, the wrath that falls on their heads is terrible to behold. They throw away things that we were saving. They put other things in places where we should never think of looking. Whenever we want something we have to get them to come and find it. We'd much rather stir around in our own muddle. Yes, neatness is a virtue, but only when it is kept at home.
NELLIE STARECK, Chairman.
Our Contemporaries
COLUMRIA SOUNDS REVILLE
This breath-taking take is a definite departure from the "American college administration" and its existing narrowness. It contradicts the theory that only by completing the required courses for a degree can a real education be obtained in an American college. Columbia's Dean Hawkes, in announcing the new policy has warned that it will be administered conservatively and that it is not an automatic excuse for student achievement to fulfill a requirement. The whole point is to aid those students with a demonstrated "blind spot" for a particular subject when they reveal "more than usual capacity for other subjects."
Columbia college has announced that requirements for a degree will be modified in cases when such modification will promote the best educational interest of the students. Once again Columbia has been the first to initiate needed reform in academic administration. This action is the most striking departure since the abandonment of Latin and Greek requisites a generation ago.
Columbia faculty has sought to rescue a number of individuals caught in the academic machinery. In cases where the student has veered from one professional choice to another late in his college career, strict adherence to the regular requirements costs a student a year of his life without giving him corresponding value in education or achievement.
BELOW ZERO
A Romance of the North Woods
By HAROLD TITUS
Copyright, 1928.
WNU Service
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER I — "L-ism" Belknap, big timber operator, ordered by his physicians to take a complete rest, plans a new way of advancement he has made to his son John, just commencing in the business, are broken, for no apparent reason. The company Paul Gorbel, Belknap's partner, whom John and other business associates of Belknap cordially dislike, is a bone of contention without a complete understanding.
CHAPTER II.—At Sheosring, his train delayed by a wreck, John is able to return and after a fist fight, his attackers realize it is a case of mistaken identity. John learns his father is believed to be Gorbel's brother in a mer company. Bewildered and unbelieving, he seeks employment with that company. At the office he finds Gorbel to be Gorbel's brother in a mer company. Gorbel does not recognize him. The girl is Ellen Richards, owner of a business she works at. John's name as John Steele, the Belkman being dropped inadvertently, and John, knowing the feeling against his father, allows Ellen to believe that is
CHAPTER III—Ellen engages John and Michael as he tricks designed to handicap operations of the Richards company culminates in the deliberate wrecking of a locomotive.
CHAPTER V—The Richards barn
warns him that he should blaze structure John finds and carries out the dead body of a stranger. He
encourages him to believe his father could be a party to such an act. Steele and Sheriff Brookdale arrange to work together on the
CHAPTER IV—After heroic effort, Ellen learns to be a teacher John, admiring Ellen's bravery under the conditions, begins to have a sentimental attachment for the girl, which remains.
CHAPTER VI. *John* is satisfied that Mr. Belkap's work, sheltered by "Old Tom" Belkap's name and reputation. Gorbel discovers that "Steele" is John Belkap.
CHAPTER VII—Having evidence of Gorbel's complicity in the burning of Richards stable and certifying Bradshaw that he deadman had been in his employ and claims he had discharged him for being drunk, the afternoon of the fire was reported by Gorbel and autopsy on the body. Gorbel sends an anonymous letter to Ellen, informing her of "Steele's" identity and insinuating that she was responsible for her business troubles. John is unable to make a satisfactory explanation, and Ellen, against the deadline, requests that he i
CHAPTER IX —Gorbel's stenographer, Marie Varnell, whom he has once from a position in the bellkopf offices of the Rue de la Saint-tress at Kampest, turns on him and
reveals his truceboy to John. An al-
mong the Johns, apparently by accident, is un-
able to defend him.
CHAPTER X—John, though convinced Gorbel had planned the death trap, has no positive proof. He is made aware of his detention by the other attempt is made to bring about his death. Escaping again, he openly accuses Gorbel of the attempted assault on John, but John is discharged but remains in Kampfest, on watch. Ellen, realizing her affection for John, but convinced she should not leave him away from all that reminds her of him she decides to visit her uncle, and knowing he is away on a hunting trip.
CHAPTER XI—Having proof of Gorbel's complicity in the crime of arson, he is arrested and under arrest. Gorbel, cornered, shoots the sheriff and firemen, believing him dead. Benoît, Cornebault, barely visible. Benoît, Leconte, facts, he sets out to overtake Gorbel.
ing his escape, Gorbel finds himself in the vicinity of Wolf Richards' cabin Krowing Richards is away, he hopes to retrieve him. He wares that Ellen is there. The girl awakened by his sleuthial entrance is appalled by his appearance and accuses him of being on his flight, he accuses her of being the cause of his misfortunes, claiming his love and desire for her had put him on the downward path girl realizing the situation, bravely attempts to reason with the distracted man.
CHAPTER XIII
Paul Gorbel hefted the ax carefully.
The pack-sack was strapped shut; the rife, its magazine filled, lay across the table.
"One more chance!" he panted.
"One more chance for you to come out. . . I’m coming in, then."
The girl did not reply. He swung and struck and the axe edge bit deeply into the hand-hoen pline plants. She cried out then in fright, but put more of her weight or the post which blocked the door. His blows cell rapped through the wall, and the dedicated the position of the upper binge. The door began to give a bit under the driving. The barrier was yielding, sagging inward, . . .
With a sob the girl clutched at the post which slipped as its good ankle began to snap and she did not get it back into place between blows. She removed her weight from it, tried to shift it. **L**. The door, sagging on the lower hilt, tilted in.
She was up then, backing from him as he stood in the lamplight, long knife in her hand, the other spread across her breast.
"Don't come in here!" she whispered. "Don't come in here or I'll . . . I'll do the only thing you've left me to do!"
He strode forward and stopped sapp, as he came around to blade at him. He recolled, cursing.
"I could kill you!"
"You think I won't?"
"You could, of course!"
"You might. But I'm not leaving this camp."
"You think I wouldn't, eh?—fumbling for the ride. "You think I wouldn't shoot you down? . . . Well, think again! Leave you here to spread the word! Leave you alive to get back home. Leave you alone to tell the trail. Today they can trail!"—in a mutter. "Today a trail' be an open book. . .."
He looked out into the coming dawn.
A light breeze stirred, the stars were gone;
thin cloud streamers in the enst gloured a lemon color.
"Today it won't snow and—"
He crouched then and his head thrust forward. She beard a ragged breath sizzle through his lips as he creep, like cat, towards a window, rite at ready, and she beard the safety click open. . . .
"Beltkam, eh?" he muttered, and in the tone was something of savage joy. "Beltkam, after me. . ."
Out yonder, coming down the slope of the old burning towards the swamp was a man. His swung forward with an effort, and nothing relentless in his very posture.
The rife butt slipped to Gorben's shoulder; his cheek pressed the worm between his fingers.
And then a girl was leaping forward, screaming, drooping the knife and cutting through her breasts.
Her hands touched his sleeve as the gun roared. She all but knocked him down.
And as he swung her about, almost lifting her from her feet as he wrested the weapon from her frantic grasp, she lifted her voice again;
"Stay back. John! Stay back!"
Clear and shrill, that voice, and she caught breath for another warning scream, but Gorbels pal, hard over hermouth, shit it back. He gathered her in his arms, her close her, run with her the length of the room and threw herself into the dark, downless chamber. He seized the door, dragged it shut on its sagging hinges and slipped the heavy iron hook into its simple.
He staggered back to where he had dropped the gun, snatched it up and shot him. "I'll go," he said. Out there in the open burning the sound of that shot, the whine of the wild bullet, stopped John Bellnap in his tracks. He whipped Natsi pistol through his throat and as he realized the futility of giving battle to a screened adversary he heard a girl's voice lifted. Muffled, the sound was, but he caught the last breath.
"Stay back!" someone had called, and he thought the words were preceded by his own name!
Stay back, he had been warned! But why stay back? A quarter of a mile of open bay lay behind the bridge, shehong ridge to the southward he would be made a sieve
--and a look at a drawn and haggard face, stamped with terror and cruelty as Gorbel, rifle in one hand, the other outstretched for cartridges scattered on the cot, swung to face this intrusion.
"Stay Back, Johni! Stay Back!" by even the most insecure of muras.
"John!" she called. "John Belkman! Are you hurt?"
Then, as his pulses slowed, he made out an old, indistinguishable sound in the door and walked in. He fell, stopped; began again. Then another, a man's voice, cursing sharply.
On that the girl in the cabin screamed again. His name!
Shelter was in only one direction, straight on towards that cabin from which his life had been attempted, and he could not find where the flesh might be rent. He could not hear the muffled sounds of silence within the cabin, could not know that he had seconds of safety. He took the wheel and ran toward the blood roared in his ears, and as he dropped forward into the snow, another ride shot crashed again, the missile clipping a bare birch twig from its branch in line with where his head
"not hurt!" he cried. "Not hurt!"
The ride crashed. A bullet tore through the screen of boughs to his right. Another snapped above his head, and then the left; a fourth went into the stump with him with a plumpy spatter.
He stiffened, at the muffled sound, raised his head in an ineffectual effort to see through the thick growth before him.
"Ellen?" he shouted.
Then silence once more. . . .
A woman, a woman who knew him,
has given warning. . . What
happened?
Linda. She stopped.
Her answer came from the close confines of the fur room: "John. . . John, are you all right?"
"Hight!" he yelled, raising himself a bit so his voice would carry better.
Again the rife, shooting savagely,
aimlessly now. Six times, shot after
shot, until echoes came ringing back.
Where he sheated it he shouted "Where
are you?"
" . . . fur room. At the east end. . . Stay safe, she called." He has a world of ammunition and is shooting at you through the window!" Another voice then, a muffled snarl of warning.
And on the sound John hunched to his knees, rose to a nearly upright position, pistol in his hand. He could see the glittering wall behind him he saw a movement within it, shadowy, indistinct movement, and fired. A pane of glass pulverized, the figure in there shifted quickly; he shot again and then fell backward, another of the two windows he could see.
He dropped for shelter and cried out:
He presses his body against the stump, but the man inside did not reply, with words or gunfire. That silence descended again.
"Stay back, Gorbel! I'll drill you,
'help me'"
All manner of impulses, of hopes, of fears, a vast array of miscellaneous and conflicting emotions, surged through John . . . Ellen, here, with Gorbell John, who had nothing to lose but his liberty now! Why had she come? Why had Gorbell borne so straight for this place?
"Ellen!" he called, suddenly frantic. "You all right?"
"Right!" Her voice was fainter now husked with tones.
The rifle spoke again, six barking shots, and on the last John leaped up. Two small windows flanked the cabin on this, the western exposure.
He ran for the end of the building, sinking deeply, hounding and straining until he threw himself flat in the great drift at the corner. He wrigled, squeezing out his leg like a bag holding the plaster at ready, holding his breath, listening. No sound came to indicate that Gorbel had seen him close in.
John removed the snowshoes and creep along the wall, movements silent in the new snow, ducking low as he walked up the hill, coming to a halt beside the door.
"Two!" he counted as the rife
crushed once more . . . After an
other wait he could whisper "Three!"
And then "Four!"
Five and six shots, then, and spruce branches were clipped off and dropped and feet sounded on the cabin floor. . . And then John Beklamp had his hand on the latch, his shoulder to the door, was swinging it. Open,
No turning back, now! He shoved with all his strength and the legs of the table which Gorbel had set across the wall, in front of the planks as John pushed it sideways.
"Drop it!" snapped Belknap. "Drop that gun!"
(To be Continued)