SUNDAY, MARCH 16, 1930
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
PAGE THREE
SOCIETY
Alpha Onicron Pi held initiation,
this morning, for the following women:
Brenice Rocforte, of Clifton; Marcel
Viveres, of Denton; Roberta Murale,
of Lafayette; Barbara Thoreau,
Theoea Jedichia, and Juanita Morse,
of Kansas City; Maryjurie Lissingham,
of Sepalha; Ellen Davis, of Wil-
shire; Maryhose, of Appleton
City, Me.
Alainna present were: Amelia Woodward, Elizabeth Fryer, Alex Stego, Lizzie Clipperinger, Dorothy Rowell, Valbear Sniadner, Nadine Cohen, Christina Clay) City) Ms. George Cook, of Pamanga, Texas) Glee Starr Bloomer, of Cliffin, and Florence Source, of Leawoodville.
The initiation services were followed.
lowed by a formal banquet.
bitts, Pittsburgh; William Miltin, Coffeyville; Nelle Holloway, Topeka; Webb Scholl, Paul Stante, Dora Grose, Palm Linderly, and Clarence Ernst; Carl Peder, ensign, United States Navy, was an honor guest of
Mr. and Mrs. V, L. Morrison, Mrs.
Marie French, and Mrs. Jennie Mitchell were the chaperones.
Delta Zeta secretly gave an audience at the chapter house last week to hear about their announcement in a furnished the music. The chapelrooms were Mr. and Mrs. Kippengrass, who would be there.
sas City, and Helen Prater, of Kan.
sas City.
Dorothy Winchester and Charron
Hale, of Hutchinson, are week-end
guests at the Gamma Phi Beta house.
Phi Delta Theta hold its annual "Missione Maestra" at the Memorial Union building, last night from 6 to 11 p.m. Harold Sternman, Kaiser-Kronenburg, turned the music. The St. Patrick's day motif was carved in the decorations, the wings being drained in green and white, and the main floor covered with shamrocks.
The following guests were present:
Lisa Rung, Carine Rosemeyer, Marc Wertz,
Curtis Culliard, Martin Benson, Amariel Wood
and Marenth Gougeau, of Locoworth.
Guests present were; Eva Linn Carter, of Wichita; Hiah Johnson, of Greatest, Colo.; Kathleen Finley and Catherine Good, of Kansas City; and Howell Novet, of Buteholme; Mr. and Mrs. O. W. Male, Mr. Fred Cooley, of
Weekend guests at the pha tha'thouse area; art of Lindenwood College, Hurkberock, Winsfield.
Miss Dorothy Leonard,
City, is a week-end goo
Theta Phi Alpha house.
Mrs. C. G. Wagner, a
is visiting Josephine Hut
Kappa Kappa Gamma "
week end.
The K.U. Danny enters a bridge party at the IQ last night. The St. Paul. Street. The disco returns, the reunions.
Kansas Gunnie chapter
Phi Epsilon fraternity bachelor
matte routine "bewray brave
chaperon house that night.
crowns were: Mrs. Fraser of
the Albahi Choi Ogeeha by
Mary Gilbert, of the Signee
house; Mrs. C. H. Landen,
Gila Quinnion I. house,
Gila Quinnion II. house,
of the Signee
sion house.
Dinner guests at the Cl
house today are: Betty S.
Wichita, and Hermine S.
Lyons.
Out-of-town guests were Miller and Helen Dexter, of Bee Jacqueline and Jon Neal Michelena, Elmer Flire, George lejey, George E. Stafford, I Phoels, Thomas E. Chewson Charles Lyon, of Kauai C. Webster, of Ft. worth,
Dorothy Bolton is a dint at the Alphn Xi Delta house
The actives of Alpha Chin were hostesses at a 1 o'clock given experience in housekeeping. Kincail; Kincaid; Elisha Everly Leavitt; Charlotte Hale; cinnamon; Mrs. John Bookbuck John Nelson, and Mrs. Brian Ware, were at the luncheon.
The formal R.O.T.C. military hold Friday night in the Unioning, was larger and more modern than the solution to memorials of the unit who were killed in Kansas City, Topeka, and worth L昂ent, A. L. Glectus et Mrs. M. W. Boudley, et Mrs. F. W. Pratt, professor of military science the head of the receiving II竞赛赛 were Capiro J. Meyers, et Mrs. Meyers, and Mrs. G. Altibain. Decoration was during the evening.
Guests at the party were
lowa; Robert Munro, Kansas
Clair Lindahl, Agenda; Lloyd
Ensign B. C, P. Coden, of BH
Enginshaw is the swapping of the
Gamma Delta honeys, below for
Pomacau to finish in his
Agreve's hand surprized the with a group of newly arranging position, making one of the plays of the year, Duncan followed by the arranged group followed by the arranged group dancing for the evening.
"Put" and "Patricia"
a charge of the St. Patrick's
given at Westminster hall after
the decorations, the ice,
and stuids, and the music;
three families present, the O
Goncelles were given a candy at the end of the ever receiving the highest score
numerous games and contests
The chaperones were Mr. Lantz and Mr. Edwin Price.
Phi Mu Alpha, musical Tra announces the pledging of Davis.
Pi Uplion entertained with twenty-first annual spring party Friday evening at the 8 Friar's Garden, in colorful ternor colors, green and got carried all out through the dinner dance. Music was ffi music by Theodore Katz which played from 7 to 1, the features of the evening specialty given by Hilda Older Blue during blues on the middle west.
THE MAGAZINE SECTION OF THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
PAGE TWO
Year In. You're Out
By Samuel Hoppenstein
Horace Liveright, 1930
Almost everyone who looked into Hoffenstein's "P poems in Praise of Practically Nothing" last year led it to me very well, every very mildly. Anyway he was an amusing. There were one or two "serious poems," but they didn't take up much space and were easily recognizable.
The collection "Year In, You're Out" won't be so well known in any way. It hopes to be a second best-seller, and such things, really can't be as good as the first-seller, according to the best literary tradition. But it has some things in it as clever as Mr. Hoffenstein ever perverted. There is a Hymn to Science—"Oh Muse Divine, Hot Mamma Rae"; a section of couplets, "Medium of Rain; paradise," T. S. Ellis, MileyAgain, and well-done"; parodies, T. S. Ellis, MileyAgain, and Wordworth—and will put the T. S. Ellis Take-in off among the nonsense class; and all kinds of shorter stuff, like this plea of the young New Yorker:
"Mommer, dear, I ain't no heel,
"Mommer, dear, I have to here.
And you're talking like a moron.
And you're talking that I ain't got no sex appeal
I ain't got no sex appeal
And I wish I never was boron."
And I wish I never was boron,"
And a spiritual—
spiritual
"I got a complex; you got a complex—
had a complex, you got it, complex,
All God's chillun got things. . . . .
but there are the Sorry Poems. What to do with them? Why, the book is a fully quarter serious. Don't skip them anyway. You may have no idea what they are saying, and when you do they may not be so original. They are full of an imagery very hard to follow; they are very complex and unreadable. And they make your hair curl.
occasion that one has broken, say thirty nets.
"When one has broken, say thirty acres and thirty acres have broken one too. And the slow stands cliff-like before the striving and endless labor yet to do . . ."
He will cure the earth, he will hate the farrow
and all that springs from the stony root.
But the twig in the road that gives or takes not,
The frightened spirit will call it God.
A year an age of bitter clod.
When one has struggled with thirty acres—
The dark that folds him, the dust that covers,
The broken brain will call it God.
Mr. Hoffmann may not be profound, but he is a voice of the times. He is not so clever as he was in the first volume; he is not Great. But now, even when him, he has earned a right to be called a modern poet.
Haven
Haven Continued From Page On
Continued From Page 45
marrow would be CONTINUED FROM Bunny's twelfth birthday, you know, and another mother could hardly leave her.
Judd's eyes filled with tears, and she said softly,
"Oh, Paul. I am sorry."
"I know you are, sweethearts, but it rather hurts for you to speak so closely to me always."
for you to open. And that's exactly how I do it, closely to you. You just imagine things you know. You love, Paul, you are awfully comfortable with them.
Faint merely looked at her and asked quietly, "Didnibl, do you know what is the matter with you?" Her straight brows arched high, and she spoke cuttily; "No, and I don't want to know either! I really don't believe that you are so perfect that you can correct me."
She could have screamed out in her anguish and fury. What was happening to her? Was Paul going to show her that surely caught no one—nothing, could be trusted in this world? He was right—she was indeed afraid. She flung herself violently on the dawn and threw her arm over her head.
She looked at him with a look that blended fear, hatred, and pleading. For an instant he thought she was going to strike him, but she drew herself back and closed her eyes with a hudder.
can you say, "Nevertheless, I'm going to tell you what's wrong with you," he said with slow, penetrative weight.
She felt Paul's arms about her, and his voice was exceedingly loved as he said: "Judith, my daring, I understand. Don't be afraid. We're not babies, you know; our love is mature and strong—strong enough to carry us both through the hard times. Remember that, beloved."
Slowly her gry-geen eyes crept upward and mei his steady, blue ones. She did believe him! She could trust him with every bit of her love, and through all of the turmil she could hold on to him for peace and support. A great load seemed to be lifted from her heart, and her voice trembled with an exquisite sigh as she said, "Oh, Paul, I love you so!"
and close your eyes. Judith, you love me, and you know that I care. But you've had so many knocks in life that you're afraid to let yourself go. You think that I may be afraid you down, too. Isn't that it?"
Street Scene
By Elmer Rice
Samuel French. 1929
Supported by Margaret Kilbourne
Reviewed by Margaret Kilbourne
"Street Scene" succeeds in the difficult task of taking a feasting glimpse of life and making it seem fleeting, not as usually happen, as if it were out from life and grawn on a page in an attempt at permanence.
The play deals with a single morning and evening in the lives of the tenants of an old ironstone New York apartment building that has seen better days. The characters which one might expect to find in a poorer house are all there, the tireless, distrusted Russian Jew who learns about his sixty years enclosed in earrings; to make them aware of his neighbors on the needed overhrow of the "kapitalist classes", the carfure Italian music-hall violinist and his wife, the two more American families of the Jones and the Maurants. The action takes place in the bit squatified of midummer, which accuses them of betraying between their spying and doorstep philosophisms over relations in the Maurant family.
In Frank Maurant, the father, one sees the low middle-class American at his worst. For the character of Mrs. Maurant, ineffectual, unscriptural in her craving for affection, she is somewhat justified. Through the pettiness of her family and sordidness of the apartheid, the character of Rose Maurant, the young working daughter of the Maurant family, is like a breath of something fresh worth re-reading.
157
living
Rose, Rose, "There're a bit. Just being alive — breathing and walking around. Just looking at the faces of people you like and hearing them laugh.
And seeing the pretty things in the store-windows.
And rough-housing with your old heiress. And playing with a good band, and dancing. Oh, I'd hate to die!"
"Why?" says young Sam Kaplan, the only one in the situation to whom Rose can turn for council,
"What is there in life to compensate for the pain of living?"
Rose is perhaps the strongest character in the play; not strongly drawn in the sense of any struggle to rise, but by the very skepticism expressed by the neighbors as to her ever being alone from her revelations and alone with others. At the end of the movie they can no longer slander the dead Mr. Maurent, then turn to gossip about Rose and predict she will be "just like her mother." The name of the play has been carried out well, in impression as well. The characters are none of them chattered, yet all are definitely sketched in the mind of the reader. Even the stark tragedy of the play gives the impression of being the sort of thing that might happen any day perhaps the thing that might happen any day perhaps not enough to illustrate a presentation to live; it is simply a shifting scene of shifting people, but it is for the moment starlingly Life.
A painting to remember—that!*
Rocks rising out of a storm-lashed sea,
Of foam tipped waves;
Like rugged, shag, and harren islands-
He left behind by the shore,
As it yields, slowly, grimly,
To the pounding of the surf.
A PAINTING—AND REFLECTIONS
A painting to remember—that!
--my eyebrows.
"Representid!" a beeping hand stretched across the barrier in unmistakable speech. "Yenh." Well, after not a couple more was in my way - for a while, but it seemed like I didn't care no more what I did. I was leader but there wasn't no kick in it. And, Mary, she got away disturbed, and she was haunted, too. Got on her nerves kind, and she couldn't sleep.
Rocks and water—a symbol, is it not,
...and water, a symbol, is it not,
Of the paradox that is life?
An island of certain, simple fact,
In a sea of infinite mystery—cruel mystery—
Strange, insidious enemies—
Ignorance and pain, conflict and loneliness!
Wild creatures!
Ah, life is day-time, serene and cloudless;
And life is night, wild and dark.
Life is as simple as a child's game,
Then a maze without, or clue.
A rock on which to stand;
A rock on to stunt it to death,
and it takes a toughness in the
battle of introspection, not
Patiently, thinking and tailing, we struggle,
And forget the pain that drags us back,
And let the pain carry us to another
A swimmer must fight on, and yet on.
—R.R.K
Me and Macbeth
By Gustav Manke
Sing Sting! A murderer was telling his story to a sympathetic visitor. Rather unusual? Well perhaps her rimma glasses reminded him of his mother. Perhaps her soft, wavy hair made him think of his sister. Perhaps something about eyes brought vision of an old gentle person perched on the roof, "keep him straight." At a distance, he was telling his story, his harsh voice softened a little.
"You see, lady," he was trying to speak correctly throughference to his listener, "I belonged to Monty Joe's gang. You musta heard him. He's de leader of dis—this gang the police can't get any real dome on. They're sure trying hard enough, but they can't do it. Haven't yet, and And, Joe Sang's gang can't bent us—them either. Causes why? I belonged to it. I don't understand what this Monty Joe's gang the. Spit. "He was the brains. He got all the credit, but I did the thinking. Did I get any credit? Oh, a share in de loot, that's all. Course he was kinda bigheared about it—cause he knew he couldn't get along widet me. But two old guys got more than me and they didn't do nothing. He liked them. Dunnn why. Maybe cause that thing him, chess, and bigtanswer, I figures, I'm bidding him. He gets the credit, I guess as much—more—right to be head cheese! I guess it kinda got me—and when I dreamabout it too, well, I just couldn't stand it any more. . . . I had a Moll what agrees wid me."
Arguish overcome his care, and his diction slipped more into that of the streets. "One night we was talking over, and she says, 'Why not cut Monty Joe out?' His yellow teeth gleamed evilly for a moment at the double meaning his words held. "Well, I kinsel hold back. Yse he was pretty good to me but what bint her talking and I am ambivalent to him watching the girl. I guess she loved me and wanted t' see me on top. Anyway, one night, Monty Joe was walking down Sante's Alley, and I had a stallato de Td took away from a dago and , . . .," his voice off, "No one knew who could done it. And I was maddest about it, see?` But at the biggest cut—well, was telling us, the biggest cut didn't seem den again. Dumno why, 'less maybe day d' taught of doing de same ting and was afraid de g'd knit' they did它. Ysee the boys was mighty foda old Monty, and felt pretty bad about him going West. I did, too, . . . Well, they made me smart. bosta torto sora was smart. westa torto sora didn't like me when I was chief like they did before. Some didn't mind my orders, even . . . I had a friend, a sora right-minded guy what didn't oughta be wid our gangs belonged more wid you. did well. You read in the papers what happened to John Joseph. "Bellieve he hardly more than an agreement, 'Bellieve he happily made my friend even if he did get manipulated and almost give me away to the boys by acting so——"
"Well, between one ting and another, degr got wise and got de dops on me which they gave to the cops. I was disgusted with end up giving them all a big bite so I'm up for murder. Sentenced to hang by the neck until dead."
"And Mary?"
"Day found her floating in the river."
Then, "Whatch cyn' inabout. Me? Say I'm glad,
it can't worth nothin' for guys like me to live.
We has things and we want more. We do anything
everything to get it. I don't care. Let's just be
one-ooh-dah—youh, dah's it, RETRIBUTION.
Yen, dah's it, Well. I got it . . . It, and Macbeth? Whdadday mean? 'Yment to say
you know another dawn feel like me? We'll
maybe I have I handa before . . . Well, probably
it."
---
AFTERWARD
I would hurt you
So that my eyes would hold taunting flashes of memory.
I would be cruel
So that the sky would mock you
And your eyes would be cold blue steel.
I have loved you
But I would hurt you with the blue of my eyes.
Dorothy Durkee
Building Union
9 to 12
onds
O