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UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
THURSDAY, MAY 4. 1923
University Daily Kansan
Official Student Paper of THE UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS
Editor-in-Chief ... AL FREDA BRODBEEC
Associate Editors
Chiles College
Managing Editor   ARNOLD KRETTMANN
Makeup Editor    Darryn Smith
Night Edition    Jamie Patterson
Night Editor    James Patterson
Telescraph Editor    Margaret Greene
Alumni Editor    Jacques Jordan
Alumni Editor    Jessica Jordan
Sunday Editor    Margaret Beumont
Advertising Manager    MARGARET INCE
Advertising Manager    MARGARET INCE
Robert Whitman
Lincoln School
Margaret Ingre
Sifney Kros
Brett Millington
Martina Lawrence
Alfreda Broehack
Arnold Ketmam
Dorothy Smith
Arnold Ketmam
Business Office U.K. 56
Business Office London 701 KU
Night Connection, Business Office 701 KU
Night Connection, Business Office 701 KU
Published in the afternoon, five times a week and on Sunday morning, by students in the Department of Journalism of the University of Toronto from the Press of the Department of Journalism.
Subscription price, $4.00 per month, payable
through September 30.
Entered as second-class matter September 1
and October 2, 2015. No credit.
THURSDAY, MAY 4, 1933
"GERMAN SUPPRESSION"
Advocates of the "free press" who are worrying themselves sick over the condition of the newspaper in America should really see what it feels like to live in a country where the press is subjected to suppression.
According to the Nazi definition, "a newspaper should be an organ upon which the government can play." How difficult it is from the American belief in a newspaper as an organ whose purpose is the dispensing of all truthful information that is of interest to the public.
Before the Nazi party took over the government, no press in the world was freer to criticize that than Germany. That country ranked third in the ratio of newspapers to the density of population. The majority of the papers were privately owned and many were endowed. The latter fact resulted in an unbridled expression of views from many different groups and classes. One American observer in Germany says, "Never in history has a once proud press taken so humiliating and degrading a part in organized brutality."
Foreign correspondents are told what they may send to their papers and when. A censor reads all cables before they are sent, and often either rejects them or holds them up until they have lost their timeliness. Photographers are limited in the activities of the Hitlerites that they may photograph.
It has been said that the only way to understand half of what is going on in Germany is to realize that there is not one single 'agency of free speech or free press left.'
A country is in a bad way when it suffers from a depression, or a war, or a small pox epidemic; but when its newspapers, the voice of the people, bow in abject ignoble surrender to a dictatorship, then it has reached a most unfortunate level. When a public loses its tongue, it is on the way toward losing its soul.
The surprise of intelligent Germans at the astonished and indignant attitude the rest of the world is expressing toward the Nazi activities reminds us of the small child's surprise when its elders object to its throwing a kitten into the fire.
AND YET WE READ IT
A glance through a current periodical or a recent work of fiction will well illustrate the trend of modern writing. In it all is to be found the more sordid, the most wretched, and completely unhappy set of circumstances that can be imagined by authors who spend their waking hours in evolving more and more wicked works. The novel, the short story, the drama, and the cinema all grow around an unfortunate situation which increases in misery to the heart-breaking conclusion.
What goal have we attained by such writing? To what further development of the idea will it lead? Do we, after all, enjoy making ourselves miserable, and glory in our own sorrow? The pain we
feel, the disgust with which we are consumed, why do we accept these things? The average reader has a feeling of unrest and discontent, if not active hatred, of his surroundings and of the world in which he lives after contact with the writings of a contemporary author.
Can more active thinking and constructive effort be evoked by these disquieting stories? Are they fulfilling an actual purpose or could their function be as well served by more pleasant reading?
FRESHMAN DISCIPLINE
The old, old custom of freshman discipline in fraternity houses is one of the best things this Hill ever had. It is a grand institution — tradition-filled, and brings to an alumnus some of his most deeply felt memories of college life.
Of course, it is a little bit hare on the freshmen in the house who have to take all the blows, and do all the house work and most of the studying for the entire chapter; but after all, "It is for their own good." Freshmen must have some sort of discipline the first year they are away from home, and even if they are bossed by men who are their inferiors, they nevertheless learn to take orders, and swats, and learn to go about their work with smiles on their faces.
The practice of paddling freshmen often gives these men inferiority complexes; but anyone will admit that you have to do something to break the first year man of being cocky, even if you have to stifle their personalities to do it.
The great institution of beating has another good use, because it unites members of the freshman class. Of course, in accomplishing this, it does unite them against the rest of the men in the fraternity and divide the house into two hostile factions, but after all, is it not a fine thing to get the freshmen to pull for each other? And after all it really does provide the actives with a marvelous opportunity to swell their idea of their own importance.
We can appreciate the difficulties under which the senate and the house of representatives work. The bill proposing a change in vacation periods has been flitting back and forth between the councils and the Senate Advisory committee for several weeks now, each time with a slight change.
IOWA SURPRISES US
Iowa has become the talk of a nation. In churches, on the streets, in the editorial columns of the country, the situation is being discussed. People are amazed and disturbed. The farmers in Iowa are in need of help, but so are the farmers in the other states. It is doubtful whether organized interference with mortgage foreclosures is the remedy. It is doubtful if unlawful force is ever the remedy for the ills of this country or any other. It is certain that the bodily removal of an elderly judge from his bench during a session of his court and cruel and ridiculous treatment of him is not the remedy. Such obviously ignorant and cowardly conduct is surprising in view of the fact that Iowa was settled by unusually progressive and enterprising people, a people who have maintained a high rating in government and the lowest illiteracy percentage in the union.
It has been intimated that such agitations have been engineered by local radical leaders. It is hoped that such may be true, for in a time of national distress such as we are experiencing now, it is imperative that the people of the various states exercise more self control than ever before.
And now comes five weeks of restless evenings. We are restless in both mind and body, with mind taking more than its share of the jitters.
THESE RESTLESS EVENINGS
We try to explain our condition by saying that we are "just simply tucked out" from studying so hard through the long, cold win.
OFFICIAL UNIVERSITY BULLETIN
The regular meeting of the Kansas Association of Chemical Engineers will be held at 7:30 this evening in room 101 Chemistry building. Dean Werner will speak on "Food Analysis." Refreshments will be served.
Thursday, May 4, 1933
K. A. C. E.:
Vol. XXX
No.161
Notices due at Chancellor's Office at 11 a.m. on regular afternoon publication days and
11, 30 a.m. on Saturday for Sunday issues.
MEN'S GLEE CLUB. ORCHESTRA:
Full rehearsal tonight of Men's Glee club, Orchestra, and soloists for "Ti conderoga," at the University auditorium at 7:30 sharp. A full attendance is required.
D. M. SWARTHOUT, Director.
PHI DELTA KAPPA;
ALBERT COOK, Secretary
ter, but we are really getting lazy and are finding it difficult to scare up a legitimate excuse.
Phi Delta Kappa will participate in a joint meeting with the Lincoln, Neba and Manhattan chapters Friday, May 5. Members wishing to go should meet at Fraser hall at 3 p.m. Friday. Call 2629 or see the secretary for transportation.
There will be a meeting of the Ku Ku's tonight at 7:30 in Fraser hall for the purpose of electing officers.
HARRY F. JOHNSON.
PI EPSILON PI:
On weekends, that proverbial cannon could be fired through the reading room of the library without a single fatality, but, please, don't anyone shoot any firearms in Brown's Grove or any other rustic retreat frequented by the students. It might cause a riot.
GARLAND DOWNUM, Secretary.
An attempt has been made to discover the reasons for those steak-less steak fries, but out of the hundreds who have been approached, not a one has given a sane, Christian answer.
Proof that editors get results—The Kansan bemoaned the cowpaths through the campus lawns and they have gone. Yes indeed—replaced by broad highways through the middle now.
Perhaps it is the gypsy in us!
It's a lucky thing for the human race that marriage isn't all its wise cracked up to be—Daily Trojan.
From the inertia of the stock market, it appears that those who burn their fingers are afraid even after the fire is out—Minnesota Daily.
Hint to the Farm Board: Joseph saved Ezekiel by storing grain in fat years, not in lean ones. — Minnesota Daily.
QUIPS from other QUILLS
--they would not oney the remnant of self-control that tried to direct the light in them this day. Unpleasant eyes. Evil ears. The man's voice was slightly husked.
Styles change in a jiffy, Technocracy,
jig saw puzzles, 32 beer. Who knows
but that prosperity may become a fad
again? —Daily Iowan.
The refusal vote simply means that a majority of campus fraternities are afraid to do away with first-date "hot boxes," effective pledging weapons, no doubt, but badly lacking in consideration for the poor freshmen.
Beer can no longer be sold or consumed on the Vassar campus. Seem to be a pretty drastic way to preserve the boyish figure—Daily iowan.
Instead of being able to pick their favorite group after filling as many dates as they desired under the plan promised by the new rules, unfortunate rushes are still doomed to pledge at the house of their first dates for fear some bids on later dates won't materialize. -Oklahoma日报
Bit by bit the promised billion dollars is being cut from the federal budget. Office holders will be forced to support themselves in a manner to which they had better get accustomed. — Daily Iowan.
A Vote of Confidence
Refusal of the interfraternity council to accept revised rush rules is comparable to a group of men dying of alcoholism after searching many days for water.
For a semester a committee looked for the best rushing methods, finally picked out the best of the best and formulated a new system. Rules were not perfect but they were lacking in important faults of standing regulations.
An aristocracy is a land governed by a few; a democracy is a land that thinks
Our Contemporaries
Still, the new ideas were turned down, solely because they kicked out of existence the good old custom of pledging gullible freshmen who hadn't had a chance to clear their wits about college fraternities.
The "Hot Box" Gets
Copies of the first chapters of the story may be had upon application at the Kansan Business Office.
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER I — "Tom" Beltknap, big timber operator, ordered by his physi-
clians to take a complete rest, plans a
solution of the damage of advance he has made to his son John, just commencing in the business, are broken, for no apparent rea-
tion. He is joined by Paul Gorbel, Beltknap's partner, whom John and other business associates of Beltknap cordially dislike, is a bone of contention. Father and son part with
them.
CHAPTER II. —At Sheostring, his train delayed by a wreck, John is left alone and after a faint light, his attackers realize it is a case of mistaken identity. John learns his father is believed to be his business partner. Bewildered and unbelieving, he seeks employment with that company, the firm he formerly held as a youth orphan in a nearby town him out. Gorbel does not recognize him; the girl is Ellen Richards, owner of a house she lives in. John's name as John Steele, the Bell man being dropped inadvertently, and John, knowing the feeling against his man, allows Ellen to believe that is his name.
CHAPTER III--Ellen engages John Deering. He describes trick tricks designed to handleck operations of the Richards company culminates in the deliberate wrecking of a locomotive.
CHAPTER IV. After heroic effort the somber face of John, the patient of Elena, bravery under the conditions, begins to have a sentimental attachment for the girl, which
CHAPTER V.—The Richards barn and stables burn in a night fire. In the blazing structure John finds and carries out the dead body of a stranger. He realizes the fire was set, but refuses to believe his father could be a party man. An act. Steele and Sheriff Bradshaw arrange to work together on the eaves.
CHAPTER VI. JL - Who is satisfied that the work, sheltered by "Old Tom" Belk-nap's name and reputation, Gorbel discovers that "Sticle" is John Belk-
CHAPTER VII—Having evidence of Gorbel's complicity in the burning of his business, interviews him. Gorbel admits the dead man had been in his employ and claims he had discharged him for beating Steele and Bradshaw arranged for an autopsy on the body. Gorbel sends an anonymous letter to Ellen, informing her about identity and insinuating that, acting as a helper, she is responsible for her business troubles. John is unable to make a satisfactory explanation, and Ellen, against the death sentence,
CHAPTER VIII — Young Belknap, determined to fight to the bitter end to save his father's reputation, faces Goran Zeljkovic. He is employed in the Belknap lumber plant. Sheriff Bradshaw cleverly inferred to incriminate himself in the burning house.
CHAPTER IX—Gorbel's stenogrammified from a position in the Belkap offices at Chicago to become his miscreant, reveals his treachery to John. An attempt, engineered by Gorbel, to kill John, apparently by accident, is unseen.
CHAPTER X—John, though convict, has no proof of his torture, has no positive proof. He is made barn boss, by Gorba's orders, and an attempt is made to bring about his death.
CHAPTER X
On Monday morning the stoer stood the second time in Paul Gorbels's office. The man turned on him a face that was lined now; hollows showed he was wearing a coat and had been so well controlled a four-eight before, so steady, so blunt.
"You sent word by Mac Saturday night that you'd bought a new team," John said.
"Yes. DeForest came in and offered a barrero. I thought I'd let you have one."
"Well"—dryly—the just came in to take 'em back.'
"So soon? You . . . you tried them?"
"I don't understand."
He spoke dispassionately and when he saw the boy, he shouted him; but (corbel held stove now, power)
"A horse was loose in the harn when it came to mayday. He never been properly tired, die."
"Well . . . I don't . . . I don't get you. Did you send the team back because the man was careless on a detail?"
"Don't stall, Gorbel!" John cried, and the other straightened as color whipped into his face. "Don't stank manhole water because good luck was with me!"
"What's the iden?" he asked thickly, rising. "I don't like this, Bellnap, whatever it may be!"
Gorbel shoved back his chair.
"Frame you!" His voice was a smart.
"No, you don't like it!" Rage now, had young John; and his eyes and his voice and his gestures. "You tried to meet me, you met me, and with a horse next. You—"
"—have known for years, likely about Deforest's outlaw black. If you haven't, it's the one thing you know he's doing. Shut up, know, and let me talk"—with a commanding gesture as Godof swung around the corner of the desk. "I found him loses in the barn. He tried to get me and didn't. My teamsters all knew about him; every man would buy him; that no sane man would buy, the horse.
"In man, you're crazy! DoForest. An outlaw horse. Baxter? What the dead horse?"
'I called on DeForest. You'd schooled him well, Gerbel. You'd probably schooled Baxter well, too. I didn't bother trying to break him down.'
"You're good!" he said. "You're good, you toud! Why don't you try to fight like a monkey? Why don't you guits come back?" Why? Why? Why in the open? Why won't you let—"
The rigidity went from John Bellico's posture and he laughed helpfully.
"I look here! I m-d I d if let all my added kid talk to me like this! I m-d I d if trying. Murder! Fight? Someone trying to hand the blame on me? That it? Now why in the name of heaven should I want to harm you?"
A quick warning flickered through John's anger. Roused as he was, Gordon's craft had not deserted him. Prey on the lion of high rank, when bars of caution are down, to discover what and how much John Belkink knew, and the boy drove back his temper and his contempt, striving to match cunning with cun-
"I haven't the slightest idea," he said. "Not an idea to my back! But you don't want me here; you're trying to drive me out."
He thought a shadow of relief appeared in that face before him.
Gorbel let out a short breath of disgust.
"Drive you out!" he muttered, as though such an idea knew the depth of her memory. He remembered you were around the Job a dozen times since you came in! But if you're not drunk, you are insane and there room here for neither booze nor alcohol.
"I'm fired, then."
John shrugged. "Your privilege," he said.
"And you'll get out of the company boarding house today!"
"Also your right.'
"And out of Kampfest, too!"
"Stadyen, neighbor!" John's rage was passing; he was notting the anxiety in the other's tone now, as of one who presses rashly into a welcome opening. "Little too far, that. I'm straying in town, Gorbel. Things have been out in Sheesportry. That was an important reason in coming. I'll be in Kampfest, watch my step. If you try me again . . . in person, please!"
He went out without another word, closing the door family, and Paul Gorl, standing three, eyes on the door, let a hand lift slowly to his chin, fingers fumbling with the flesh there.
He stood so for a long interval. He flashed above the room as he crossed the room and locked the door, Fists rumbled into pockets, he paused the room while moisture pricked out in tiny peaks on his face.
Four was riding the man now, fear and desperation. Not fear of the possibility that John Baskin might be caught. He would have gone through either Baxter or DeForest.
Another fear gnawed at him, had been grinding him for days, and something about John Belknap's attitude made him feel that the lad was not thinking wholly of his own safety. He had had the manner of one who knows more than he tells of one who is satisfi- tious enough, justice, for a tre- nere moment.
And Nat Broshaw had been a bit too casual the last time he came. His eyes had betrayed a flicker of guilt when he opened the barn and barked barn; and another time he had come he had gone from this office to the hot-pot where John Heltkamp
For years Paul Gorbel's conscience had not troubled him; he had taken
what he could take, by fair means or fou, escaping detection but piling in his own heart a cumulative burden to himself, and even far enough to even himself until lately, and then, like a festering wound, it had commenced to swell and throb. It would have given his mind an his affairs during daylight; it would not let him sleep.
Other nights he had thought that pounding in his ears was the heavy betting of his heart; last night it had been more than a minute of thudding in awkward measure as men marched in lock step! . . . Last week he heard people knew more than he had听过.
. . . . . . . . .
He hated in mid-room and looked about like one trapped. Then he went inside, sliding the pistol and slipping the pistol that lay there into his pocket. After a time he unlocked the door and went through the mechanism of functioning as a manag-er.
But things had happened to her which robbed this turn of events of any joy; things which wakeden her from sound sleep with heart racing, with a feeling of having called out in her dreams appealingly to the man she had befriended and out of it again, leaving the job in order but life in chins.
And over In Shoestring Ellen Richards was going through the motions of performing her daily tasks.
Evidence of strain was heavy upon her, a different sort of strain than that which had racked her when the man she now knew to be John Beltkamp caused in the woods; the Belknap and Gorbel operation on her railroad had slowed down log production; her transportation facilities had been able to take care of both jobs handily; a reserve of logs was growing in her yard over her clouds which had hovered over her business affairs were seeming to lift.
During waking hours she knew that she thought of John Belkapn only with contempt, but at night, as she slept, she remembered the mingling with the determination in his eyes, and she lived again those moments in the office at camp when she yielded impulsively to his arms, when raised her face hungry for his lips.
Sweet, the dreams were! But she shuddered on wakening. To surrender her heart to a man who had deceived her, who had sworn allegiance only to undermine her worldly possessions, was unthinkable. And yet that heart remained unstructured. Her mind flared wildly at her dreams stormed, in certain moments, but when the mind dropped into deep rest that heart went its forbidden way.
"Ellen, you're comin' down with something!" she said. "Sakes, but you do look peaked! You better go home an rest."
He left his high stool and drew his spectacles down low on his nose again.
Yesterday the woman who kept her house had declared her ill. This morning, the old bookkeeper had eyed me and said one word: "Peaked!"
Home? To lie there in the room where she dressed tenderly at night of a man who was her enemy, even moments which once had been sweet but which now, even in memory, whipped the heat of humiliation to her
"Tell the barn to bitch up the drivers," she said. "I'll have them take me out towards the Mad Woman. A mouse two at Wolfs is what I need, I guess."
Not home! A girl can't stay in the theater of heart-break when her nerves are rubbed raw and drawn singing tight, can she?
And so she went, a light pack sack and snowshoes stowed below her, eager to be afloat and trudging the rocky seashore. There were of this road and the tramper's comp.
(To be Continued)
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