SUNDAY, JANUARY 10.1930
UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN, LAWRENCE, KANSAS
PAGE THREE
A
K. U. Alumni Clubs Will Have Meetings in Many Large Cities
Kansas Day Will Be Celebrated Other Special Programs in February
Charles Strickland, '14, and Lowell Grady, '28, and their live-wire Chicago Jayhawkvens plan the biggest, most complex rover penetrated by Kanana Talks in the "Windy City." It will be at the Allerton Horton farm, Jan. 25. Chancellor Bill Ritter, a head coach to teammaster is J. N. Vander Vries, who was a member of the faculty of the University of North Carolina, now manager of the north Central division of the United States chamber of commerce. Other speakers are from North Carolina, president of the Rock Island railway, and Marvin Crenger, A.B.296, now managing editor of the **M**
Under auspices of the 14
Jayhawk club of Kansas C
comes now to the annual al-
thletic meet in Lexington,
star athletes of the Kansas C
high schools. It is to be hea-
dward, Sproul, 15, 17; is in charge
The Kansas alumni in Ne
have moved the date of their
meet to April 16 up to Feb. 28 this
meeting is a reception with
and a three-course supper
at Regis hotel, 55th and Fifth
the annual Kansas day nary all former residents of Kansas in or near Minneapolis will a $450,000 prize to 6:30 per visit at Atkinson Hall. Eugene Alker, 97, an H. Street, 198, will speak. William A. HW, at 838 Pigman Court, in secretary's affair.
Sunflower stale represents the vicinity of Wilton will be present at the Kansas david her Jan. 25, from 6 to 10 a.m. Sunflower will wealth avenue. Since Lt. Kan, was really started in Bk years ago, the Kanaka folk plan to celebrate the found Lawrence. Bishop W. A. L. greesmanpassan P, C. Camp冒
At Boulder, Cole, A. W. Loe is getting up a meeting for or 27. At Powell, Wyne, Mme. Leclerc is getting up a meeting of Jayhawens the eve Jan. 28. The next KU, cell will be at Seattle, Wash., Mme. Leclerc is building a ROCF building and Augusta Hall 01, at the Rosebud high school charge. At Portland, Ove, a ring is set for meadowing. At Cleveland, Crookman, g'13, at the Orange help is making array The San Francisco and vicinity W. Copley, e03, Crooker Financial Bank building, is built KU. Club in San Francisco KU. Club in Los Angeles F September to Los Angeles F九月, 9 or 10. Spotts has charge of affairs
Fail to Find Van Eilens
Mossev, Jan. 18, (U-PP) — Soviet attempts to verify that Capt. Kargi Elleben has been killed on the ground of Sheriff of Oberlin have fail Crosson and Harold Gilliam a today to take off to fly from the Angermann river are two U-PPs of Capt. Elleben and Borland had be in that vicinity.
Business and Professi DIRECTOR
BUTLER MOTORS
Willis Knight and Whippet
G & D Used Cars
617-19 J
THE INSTALLED HLAS 189
We Protect and Serve You
E. May Maynder Service
Phone 689 Insura
First CLASS BARRIER SB
BOB STEWART
838 Mass.
Lawn
Sheet Metal Wash and Furn.
E. P.WENCHARD
Roofing - Guttering - Skylab
Phone 245 13 East
LAWRENCE OPTICAL COM
Eglaze Glass Exclusively
213 Mass.
MODERN SHOP SHOP
J.A. LYONS
836% Mass.
Lawrence
FRANK H.I. LESCHER
SHOP RUPURING
812% Mass.
Phi
GOOD & RICHARS
Dealer in Wallpaper and PaI.
Liquers and Wax.
Phi 620 App Fire Dept. 207-209
H. W. DENTSON
DENTIST
713 Mass.
House Bldg. Phi
HAIRDAVISION MOTORCY
New and Used
KNOLES BICYCLE SHOP
phone 9119
KAHN GARAGE
General Auto Repairing and Req-
firmed Authentic Harbor Radiator &
Harrison Radiation
704 Mass.
An informal party carrying out 10 ballots of an ten carnival was hold in January, but not until later after the basketball games. All 31 denials of the University were invite ballots.
SOCIETY
The program consisted of a skatin walkz by Louise Allen and Doroth Fleckenstein, accordion music an songs by Dorothy and Mary Freds rig, rap instruments, Lois Smith and Don Watson, and Robyn Johnson and Mara Williams.
Radio music, games and dance,
tornadoed amusement for the renown-
ing audience of its time and costumes of the entertainers were
partly inspired by the spirit of whirl-
ing.
Theta Sigma Phi, honorary journal, theta sorority, bid initiation events in the sky parter of the journal, theta building yesterday afternoon
Jan. 21, advanced student recital central Administration. 8 p.m.
Jan. 22, Joint senior recital, Virginia Nelson, pianist; Lois Rush, pianist, central Administration, 8 p.m.
Coming Musical Events
Jan. 26, vesper organ recital, University Auditorium, 4 p.m.
Atlantic Amorformum, 4 p.m.
Feb. 2, vesper organ recital, Uni
Feb. 12, University concert course,
Vladimir Horowitz, pianist, University auditorium, 820 p.m.
Feb. 9, vesper organ recital, University Auditorium, 4 pm.
Feb, 16] Fine Arts all-musical voces,
University Auditorium; 4 p.m.
Feb, 23] veeper recital; Phl Mu Al-
m. University Auditorium; 4 p.m.
pla, University Auditorium 4 p.m.
Bla, 24, senior collegial, Virginia
Durga, pennist, central Administration,
8 p.m.
Feb, 26, Inter-sorority Sing, upon
sored by Mu Phi Epilason.
Marin & Vogner, ocean resilial Unit
The University Daily Kansan Can Help You---
THE MAGAZINE SECTION OF THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
Chicago at 2:00 a.m.
(Continued from page 12) -
redepad almost steps on the couf of his trousers they bag down so over his heels." Hundreds of people passing me. I'd glance at their face now and never see them. People—people—by one minute, then gone.
"I mustn't see think of people. I'm here in a big city and I must keep my wits about me. What do I care if that woman were poor earrings? Where can I put them on my ears or down the platform looking, staring and watching everything I could see. Never before had I been entirely responsible for myself and I was finding
I was almost down to the station gates and I was still all right. I began to have a very self-efficient feeling since I had now managed to get off the train and get clear to the station. Now that I had accomplished this wonderful feat, confidence came over with a unnerving anxiety feeling which I had previously experienced.
I was now stationed the station from the train sheds. "Yes," I said to the relapid, "I want to go to the New York Central station to make the 2:50 departure." The train transferred this transfer on my ticket, oh, what a relief.
I was put in a bus with about 20 other people who were making the same transfer. "Where was my bag?" I wandered and then I saw the bus driver tessing it up on the top of the bus as roughly as if it had been a block of wood instead of my new brown case, a graduation present just weeks before. I had a desperate feeling of wanting to hang on to that one because the only thing I had left of all my nest life.
At this point the bus driver stuck his head in the door and yell, "Shove down there. What'd yu think this is? a sight seeing bub?" I looked at him, my mouth fell open and I moved down on the seat. Eight more people were crammed in beside me and the extra bags nudled under our feet.
As I settled myself for the night I looked at my watch. It was just 2:55. What a lot had happened to me in the last hour! Just what had happened? I had only gotten off the train, transferred to another station and here I was safely in my birth. I moved out of the station, out of the outstation. In an hour Chicago would be behind me. All those people would keep on burrying I supposed. Then I went to sleep.
The grays shrieked as we started; for the bus was a rickety old one. The driver made a sudden turn which almost threw me from my seat. I sat in front of him, watching the trained trains alone in Chicago often—Oh, yes, often.
I hoped my bag hadn't fallen off the top yet. I suddenly grabbed at my arm but my hand bag was still securely swinging there. The noise seemed like an echo of her breathing. Bells and horns shrinked everywhere. A few slouching figures stood about on the street, "Here is a glimpse of the underworld," I thought. Railway spread like great spider webs above our heads. We were standing in the middle of a paste to grand舅们 were still flashing in the sky.
While I was deep in thought about this being a great city throbbing with life, the bus whirled around another corner and stopped. Before I had quite realized the fact the bus driver was screaming at us, "Everybody out and make it smiley. New York is my home." And finally my bag among the sights of袋袋。
“Where to? Can I take your bag?” again I was harried into the station, into the wonder if the place could be my basier at two in the afternoon it was now at two at night. The redden was so faint that it was one of those long ones in an envelope and everyone looked as it seemed to tour something off.
Beside me was a rack which bore the sign FREE-TAKE ONE. The printed matter turned out to be Christian Science pamphlets. I read all the testimonials and was beginning on the editorial comment when I saw the redodging dolop toward me. "It got all it fixed up," he said. I was so thankful for his kindness that he jumps into this hanoi. There are some nice people in Chicago, even if it does have lots of murders.
He left me in a lounge room reserved for women. Inwardly I was curing that dumb station agent at our house, who was also wearing the women mopping the floor. Their bodies were bent double and with great mops in their hands they swayed back and forth. "Maybe I'll lose my money, my ticket and next week I'll be doing this," I
He shook his head. "You've got your ticket on the New York Central and your reservation is on the train." He snorted, then quired pose and efficiency dropped from me. "Well, what shall I do?" I asked. "I went to on the job."
Petroff
Author's Note
By Jim Callahan
(The chastic condition of many countries on the continent after the war threw upon the expectant world of adventurers of all sorts. Some of these stepped down from high places. Perhaps Petrov is one of them. At any rate the force of his character meant to cause me to write down those impressions.)
I must write about Petroff. Even if I did not write about him, I would always remember him. A Russian to the core. Not a strain of any other race in Petroff.
Bari, Italy,
December 9, 1925
December 2,1928
Bari, Italy.
PAGE THREE
In his wallet, he carries certain papers to identify himself. They are very seldom shown. Most interesting to me is a picture of a young Russian cadet—Petrof as a boy.
He had been photographs sitting on a bench at military ease. I say military ease because the uniform was wrinkled now, yet the cadet seemed calm and relaxed. He might be posted, but he wasn't.
Features that showed intelligence and good breed. A profile a mother would mould of her son were she a sculptures. Petroff is 28 today; perhaps more. Yet the dash of youth is ever with him. Through the dance of corsacks he will whirl sometimes when the wine is flowing.
And when he bows to a lady, or to a fellow Russian who merits the salute—when he bows—he reveals the grance of grace. I would rather Petroff how to me than a president press my hand.
In almost every country we have visited, Petroth has gone unannounced to be received like a king by his fellow country-men. I recall a night in Constanza, R罗曼ia when he encountered a great strapring fellow who had been captain of the guards at the palace. He was one of the most remarkable looking men I have ever seen. A Russian, unlike the fair Petroth, his hair was coal black, his face tamed as an Indian's. He towered over a world of people, and the soldiers who were with him which the cold Siberian snows seemed to have crept. Yet they grew warm and friendly as a summer night on the Volga in Petroth's presence.
They salted each other by embracing in the European manner, kissing each other's cheeks. He drew Petroff into a cake where he was employed as head chef. The restaurant will you find many Russian loyalists today.
He bowed to us chairs and told Petroff to ask for any of the old Russian music the latter wished to hear. Petroff bowed in answer, and in the grave courtesy there was a charm we do not even know in this America. He desired to hear again a piece called, "A Life for the Caar"
Soon the beater-waiter reappeared and I noticed for the first time his great, powerful hands. One of them clawed at my head, showing a how gently across the strings. The power in his fingers passed into the playing when he began to sing.
A violin and a grand piano accompanied him, but it was the violin in the hands of the giant Russian that carried us like a three years child on the mad wings of beautiful music.
ponment, we were aweed, but we could not show it. Petroff wiped openly as befitted a Russian in the presence of majestic and beautiful music. Later I learned the theme of the piece from him. A regiment of peasants armed for revolution desired to murder the czar. They know not the route to the palace as they had never been beyond their own little fields and town. Sewing a loyal court count they had to keep track of. The czar or the czar's palace. The latter demurred at first and would have died at their hands, but resolved instead to lead them, and to lead them away from the palace into the wilds of northern Siberia. So he hended the party northward, knowing that he was indeed giving life for the care; for when the snow set in and the regiment realized they were safe, they used the blinding storm, they put him to a terrible death.
Petroff wept and was jyres by tears; while we emotionless, through it all, in strangely moved, yet silent of feature as befitted the Angle-Saxon disposition. We were awed, but we could not show it.
I recall a night in Cavallo, Greece. It was midnight and our party was about to take a boat out to the "Half Moon" which lay at anchor in the stream. We climbed down and climbed into the little boat. I walked back to him and noticed for the first time that he held a bottle of three star cognac under his arm. "Aren't you coming with us, Pete?" I asked. There was a mooing from the stairway starting at moodily at the sky. Then Petroff spoke.
"I am, lonesome tonight," his arm described an array of the heavens. "Somewhere up there—my
When in Rome By Raby Johnson
Mrs. Milton flattered into her husband's office one spring afternoon. The young Irish attorney was alone and when his wife entered, a pleasant smile came to her face. His voice was slightly grieved as he said.
"It's only half past four, dear. Are you sure you made all of the calls you planned to make?"
"Oh, Jack." she panted. "I just couldn't make any more. Honest, I couldn't."
"That's all right, he said, going over to her and pushing back a lock of hair." You all tired out, poor chick, let's go across to Gibson's and get on. He is so fond of this Swedish coffee and so am I."
She throw up her hands in pretest and run historically to the window. He followed her. Mrs. Jack Milton's large, tragic eyes met those of her friend. She looked and answered in a tense voice, "I shall never be able to Oh Jack, never again, never. You know I like that Swedish food but too much of it would keep me from sleeping for it, seems. I feel so shrewd I could not believe that I could go to sleep if I were dead."
Early that afternoon Mrs. Milton had started to make calls. She had lived all that winter in that city, which was a hot place politely above. When Jack Milton won the lawsuit for Nels Laron against Kari Brehm, a German farmer, the Swedish began to throw out and take control of his farm. "The Joys of Sarcire" at the missionary meeting.
She and Jimmy began to feel somewhat established and on this particular spring afternoon Mrs. Milton put on her bag and started out to the park. She turned away from the entrance for Jack. They both felt it an important occasion.
First she called us, Mrs. Elvin, the minister's wife, a large woman with pale eyes and motherly ways. Mrs. Elvin used some of the time making American coffee and thus the call was short. Most American coffee is inpid, German coffee is of work and heavy, but Swedish coffee is a work of art, rich and fragrant with a delicious flavor. Mrs. Milton drank the coffee and ate the "buns" which tasted like toasted sweet. Mrs. Milton accepted the second cup and she and her hostess parted on the best of terms.
Mrs. Johnson admired her caller hats, cut herself for a few moments and returned with a tray of steaming coffee and cinnamon rolls. Mrs. Milton refused a second cup.
She thought she heard someone in the back of the Nelson home when she knocked, but decided that she must have been mistaken. Mrs. Tilgren, the newly weaved proved a delightful hostess. Mrs. Milton soon heard the sound of an egg booster in the kitchen and in a few minutes the must enter with the coffee cup instead of the milk but Mrs. Milton thought that she would rather not initiate. However, told her not to refuse.
By the time she had reached Mrs. Bergmann's she was nervous and unsturdy. She was not getting up to talk. Mrs. Bergmann impressed Mrs. Bergmann. She attempted to leave but the matter-of-fact Mrs. Bergmann insisted that
"You really shouldn't bother," said Mrs. Milton.
"It is no trouble at all," the other interrupted.
"We were just going to have coffee ourselves."
"But..."
"Oh, of course," stiffly, "if you don't care to stay
The elder lady was somewhat mollified. She was so insistent about the second cup that, Mr. Milton
Mrs. Milton made a desperate effort to rally her
mills, and said with some enthusiasm, "Now Mrs.
Bergman, you are tempting me, I really ought
stay, but I love your Swedish cook, and I'll stay."
After she left Mrs. Bergmann's, Mrs. Milton wanted to go home but remembered that she had promised to call on Mrs. Harrison. She was scarcely conscious of what happened. She knew in a vague way that she was getting necessarily, hysterically, and it was not until the top cup of coffee that she escaped from her husband's office.
She and Jack did not go across to Gibson's for a cup of Swedish coffee that day.
father and mother—seem to be on a night like this. You don't understand, Jimmy. On a night like this, I will go out on the rocks, and drink from this bit of water. I'm not sure if it's—and my father and mother will seem very near.
"Do you understand? Out on the rocks—under
the trees—my father and my mother—and my two
little sisters."
Sobbing, he left me and climbed out across the rocker, while we tumbled into our boat and sent it all over. I cried. And then I ran back to the
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