SUNDAY. APRIL 29, 1928
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
6.
PAGE THREE
Oldest Kansas Editor Veteran of Civil War; Has Published Recorder 53 and a Half Years
(1)
A newspaper man for 63 and half years and the oldest Kansas officer is the record held by Maj. M, M Beck of the Holton Recorder.
Although he has never learned to run a typewriter and never set a line of type in his life, Major Beck has worked on the weekly news for these many years.
He is 89 years old and in November he celebrate his nineteenth birthday, which will be a special day. Major never misses writing from two to three columns each week for his paper. Neither does he miss a daily morning and afternoon trip to the office.
The Civil War brought note to Major Beck; his first published news being some letters he had written to his parents while in the service. The Greenville, Indiana News printed a report of the siege and the general army battles.
Horatio Alger missed an excellent opportunity of writing another story of "From Postmaster to Editor," for which he received the Frank Root beekoved. When he first came to Holton he was made postmaster At that time the town paper "The Times" had a new editor, Frank Root. After the Majer has served a year at his position Frank Root became postmaster. Major Beck then went to Lansborough where he began publishing books into the publishing game with him and the two went back to Holton to start work on the first Recorder. The Recorder was published on March 2, 1875. After the first six editions had been printed, with the result of over half of the books being over to the Recorder, Frank Root asked Major Beck if he wanted to buy him out. Deciding that it would be cheaper to buy him out rather than sell the books, the Express, Frank Root's paper, and his life-work began. He was optimistic as to the Recorder's outcome by making the Express purchase.
"But after I bought Frank Fisk's paper, he went to Topeka and they elected me post master again. I asked in court for 10 years."
soldier in civilian car on Tuesday.
Major Beck served as an Indiana soldier in the Civil War. He tells the story of his enlistment in this man-
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The annual Sigma Phi Epsilon formal spring party was held Friday night at the country club, Spring decorations were used, and Hughes-Porter of Kansas City, furnished the music for the function. Chaperones included Mr. Lowe, Mr. W. Eoff, and Mrs. W. L. Hale. The party was a 1 cLock affair.
Kappa Eka Kopa fraternity gave an informal party last night at their house. The Welch-Simmons orchestra furnished the music for the dance.
Decorations in lavender and gold were used in stars and spring flowers. The chaperones were Dr. and Mrs H, P. Cady, and Ms. Blanche Deich.
Miss Violet Knapp, St. Joseph, was the only out-of-town guest.
An informal 1 o'clock party was held last night at Watkins hall and the evening was spent in dancing and slaving bridges.
Decorations were carried out in various colors and flowers.
spring colors, and flowers.
Chaperones were: Mrs. R, C, M; Carnegie were: Mrs. W, H; Geraldine, Ms. Messor, Mrs. Wilmot, and Dean Elizabeth Megnae
The Chi Omega sorority gave a spring formal last night at their house. It was a 1 vclek party, Kearney's orchestra formed music for the evening.
Marian Riley, Olathe, an out of town guest, was present.
The formal party given last night at Corbin hall was spent in dancing and refreshments. The refreshments were served between 11 and 12 o'clock. Ted Reynolds helped the women in dressing. The chaperones were Dean Elizabeth Morgan, Miss Alison Carlson, and Diana Bentley.
recruitions for the affair carried out the idea of a spring garden. Chapterres of H. P. Wilson, Mrs. F. N. Gaunt, Mrs. Margaret Perkins, and Mrs. George O. Foster, Mrs. Reynolds, Mrs. John Latham of Chantecaille,
Out-of-town guests swept. Missen Lillian Bushman, Topeka;enkai Davis, Council Grove; Josephine La Clay, McMullen High School; City, Mae; Eden Ehardurh, Salina.
nerv, "My father wanted to send me to college, but he could not afford to do so and told me that I would have to earn my way through. I got a job at the department three years later. I had saved up between $400 and $500 but about that time the war broke out and instead of going to colleges I went to war. And I picked up some college experience" where one case in that war for my college education offered then or now."
In the service he was at first a private in the infantry. During the last sixteen months he was made captain of the battery. He was never mastered by his crew, but ever drives from any position during his four years of army life.
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As he related his lifetime experiences, Major Beck sat back in his comfortable chair, smoking a cigaret which he held in one of the most
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Trowbridge Addresses Fine Arts Convocation Next Tuesday Morning
Museum Dedication Ceremony
Will Be at 2:30 in
Thaver Museum
VARSITY
Alexander Penn Trowbridge, director of the American Federation of Teachers in New York, founded annual School of Fine Arts conference which is being held in connection with Museum Week Festival and the Museum's annual museum Tuesday morning at 10 in the new Auditorium. Mr. Trowbridge is chief designer in architecture from Cornell University in 1890 and was dean and director of that institution from 1897 to 1902.
Special music by the School of Fine Arts will be given at the convention. The dedication ceremony of the Spencer-Thayer museum will take
Mon., Tues., Wed.
He rubs.
It did more damage to a man's heart than a blow torch does to a chalk of an airblow. And how!
Her smile! ! * ?
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100
This is the time of year when you want to put on the old sweater and knickers and go for a hike.
Sweater Weather-
Better look over the wardrobe and get out your sport clothes and have us clean them now.
THE MAGAZINE SECTION OF THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN for April 29. 1928
Clueless 50464 $1
During the last song, "Taps," I folded my program and put it in my bag, so that when it was over we could hurry right out. It always worries me to have to wait and crowd. Everyone else was getting ready to go. too. All over the auditorium was a rustle and flutter of white paper. It was quite pretty. I noticed D'Avoncelli watching Schmann-Heink with a most peculiarly little smile. Afterwards I asked
I had heard Schumann-Heink before, so I knew that she would be wonderful. The second song, "After the Crucifixion," was especially beautiful, I thought.
Books
History While It's Fresh
Our Times, By Mark Sullivan, Vol. I: The Turn of the Century, II: America Differences, Iffell Smith
These two volumes are case-books of the history of the last quarter of a century—or rather the early years of the Twentieth century, for there are more to follow. They bale Ambrose Bierce's classic definition of history: An account, mostly false, of events, most unimportant; made by soldiers, mostly foals, and by riders, mostly knaves. We see the great battle forces in the evolution of present day America.
"There you two go again," Edward had probably been napping, and hoped to make us believe he'd been listening all the time. "It's time to go to the room," he added as he rose, and attempted to stifle a yawn.
Well removed from academic organization and perspective the author has given us a high reliable journalistic report of changes in education, manners, literary taste, dress, religious attitudes and similar social phenomena. What we see is the followers of a generation past marched before us. Many chapters on politics are included, but it is the politics of the past, not politics extracted from their social simulations.
Twelve chapters are devoted to the education which presented the present temper of the American mind. The most influential book in shaping the curriculum is "The Art of Reading" by McGuffey's series of readers, the author believes.
The two volumes are copiously illustrated with photographs, and reproduced cartoons, which alone tell many stories of their own. The books are available in the browsing room of Watson library.
The development of aviation and the work of the Wright brothers; the rise of the oil industry, including the history of the Standard Oil Company; the great public turbine over pure food and the resulting pure food laws which grew out of Upton Sinclair's novel of the packing houses, "The Yellow House"; and many other events and many others, are the events that are described by an observant journalist who witnessed them.
I Wonder
By Ethel Morris
"In your way, you Americans are wonderful. You invent such intricate machines. You have such ingenious devices. But you always hurry so. You are always going somewhere, or just returning. You seem so realities. And it is because of this that you have no time to develop the sense of the dramatic realism and the realization, the fine appreciation of tragedy and the realization of the significance of life about you."
D'Avenonce was our guest for the week. We had come to know him well through a mutual friend during our honeymoon in Paris last year. And when he came to Kansas City, we were more than glad to have him with us. He was exceptionally well educated, even for a well-born Italian and he was part of the living when he began his monologue on his favorite theme—the lack of feeling in the American people.
He had been in America before, and he insisted that he based his belief on unreliable observation.
"As I say," the clipped formal accent broke my contemplation of the artistic possibilities of the life that you do not have at the time of feeling; it is only a little more time to foster it. We Walianna live for experience and emotions. We wish to feel—deeply; every moment; to draw from life all there is in it—bitter or bitter, tender or tender, ever conflicting for that comes, in the lack of ability or power to experience all the depth of feeling that is possible. You—you do not even recognize suffering that exists, nor recognize a tragicody or drama if you saw it before you.
And now, as he sat before the fire place, his fine, black eyes fixed moodily on the flames, and the sharply-chiseled features a playground for the shadows, he presents a handsome, striking picture.
"I think you're quite unfair," I cried, feeling somehow that the future reputation and safety of America was at stake. His voice was so earnest, so acutely aware of the implications of his dramatic. I'd prove to you that I did."
him what he was thinking.
"I have told you so," he answered. "There she stood, a splendid white-haired woman, singing the last song of her career of forty years—the last song—the last note of "Taps" of her career—the career of one of the greatest artists of the world will ever be remembered." He sat on his lattes, and打了菜单 for dinner.
The Book
Bu Paula Cost
It was a beautiful book—rich, dignified, proud. The red leather cover was embossed with gold, as if it had been lovingly selected to fit the intensity and the depth of the Divine Comme. No indies India leaves these, but purishment could bear the rhythmic song of the universe. No souls modern type here, but melodied characters coined from ancient archives and manuscripts. It was a noble voluptuary, the beauty of the poetry it housed—such a book as may give its pincer joyce in the most unallusive senses.
Many persons had stood in the shop with the book in their hands, admiring, coveting it; then had purchased novels and verses in cloth covers. Some few had sighed and clung to the book for a long time, and then gone away without buying anything at all. One of these latter was a girl who came often to look at the book. It had become to her a symbol of beauty—of all she might *long* for and never attain; of all he could *love* for and never attain an outsider. As long as it remained in the shop it belonged to her equally with the rest of the world, and she made up of a friend from whom she was separated.
One day a girl came into the shop looking for attractive novelties—things with an air of culture—things she could describe to her friends as "lovely." She wished that they would house perfume burner, and wrote a check for them.
We take the parrots from the sea and grieve because they are cast before swine, but the princesses of the world dwell in dukyy valleys far from the world wield a war jacob's Tears strung upon menchen thread.
Or read a story that just when the hero and the villain are fighting in the dark and a gun is fired and the sound of a falling body is heard, ends with "to be continued" in parentheses?
And Thus the Day Was Utterly Ruined
Or just get started in a lively and warm argument in the dirent and dullest class ever when the word *honey* is used.
Have you ever gone to your first class feeling that the world was a grand and glorious place to live in to have the instructor say: "And tomorrow we will have a guite over the book and the outside readings?" Or when a Sunday night date hoping to get a free only to have him say: "I'll be over about eight?"
Or had to keep a campus on the night when the man you've been admiring all semester calls you.
If you have done any or all of these things you
that each one is enough to join an otherwise
perfect team.
Or turned down a date for the matinee to go to a 2:30 class and the instructor didn't show up?
Or spent three hours writing an assignment to
upon going to class that it won't do until next
week.
ment might now have been taken for the garb of a peasant, for it was dirty and soiled.
It was daybreak. The people had gathered for the sacrifice. Fires burned around the huge altar, ljihgienna mounted to her place. Then darkness—... and rain ... and the people were afraid.
When she entered her chamber Agamemmon was announced, and looking out from her window she saw the Star shed its last rays upon the world and the earth. Her paint was painted the reflection of the dawn upon the sky.
(Continued from page one)
The Gift
And centuries later Christ was born.
I give unto thee the gift of the Morning Star Destined to shine over lands near and far, Destined to shine through our darkness Destined to shine without the wage Of human sacrifice. Destined to shine Throughout all the mornings of the World
To comfort and to bless both yours and Mine.
Remember then, there is no bar
I have given you the gift of the Morning
A Bermuda Swimming Pool
By Ernest Stanley
In the clear, warm waters for which the Bermuda Islands are justly famous, the opportunity for water sports of all kinds is unlimited. Swimming, yachting, surfboard riding, fishing, and many other modes of recreation on the sea and inland waters portmante and laymen by the thousand every day.
An unusual group of eight New York women—champions all—make Bermuda the scene of their activities in swimming and diving events for a national championship. They are joined by the Water Sprites. Each member is a master in her own right of some branch of swimming ordiving, and each participates in different events are held by each of the eight.
4
Perfection in mass swimming formation is one of the achievements of the Water Sprites. Like a column of soldiers in perfect rank and step, the Sprites swim in close order in their rock-enclosed Bermuda pool. Every movement of hand and body is in matched unison, as though the eight were one. The scene of the activities of the Water Sprites is an inland pool enclosed by a low rock promenade with a thin taut line for the divers. The water is crystal clear and the rocks make it warm enough for comfort. Shallow caves in the rocks at the edges of the pool offer opportunities for exploration.
One of the sports which the Spirits are in water pushball. Played exactly as pushball on land is played, the combatants churn the waters of the little lake into a large one, and then to get the big three-foot hull past the opposing team. Water ballets, including the most graceful of swimming strokes and groupings, and perfectly timed swan dives from the rocky edge of the pool make one of the most exciting things to be seen anywhere that water sports are practiced.
Diving championships are one of the specialities of the Water Sprites, and they have perfect execution of some of the most difficult diving feats. Swan chases and snorkeling are typical wreckard jack-knives, and all the other plunges which are sensational and difficult, as well as the simpler kinds, are practiced by the Sprites to perfection. Following every dive, a long chain of silvery bubbles rises from the water, gliding in a graceful arch through the clear water.
The breast-stroke, as exemplified by the national champion, is perhaps the most beautiful of swimming strokes. The frolics of the Sprites include the knee-knee stroke and the side-flipstroke only, reverse scalloping with hands only, the cork-screw crawl which consists of a complete twist of the body with every other stroke, and division divides.
Sleep is a death: O make me try
By sleeping what it is to die,
And as gently lay my head
On my grave as now my bed
Sir F. Browne,
at the Pensionnant Heger in Brussels; baily scraping of pens, letters to publishers, reading of what the critics say; wakes on the moors beside the becks, and takes the floor; paper confidence" at bedtime in front of the grate; a dinner party in the home of the wonderful Thackeray, infrequently and fleeting touches with the outward view; the careful examination of curates; struggles with the recurring coughs and illnesses; chats with the faithful Tabby before the kitchen fire; the writing of Ame's plaintive verse on mystical lines, the creation of "Shirley" and "Villote."
The Bells of Haworth (Continued from page three)
And up in busy London the young Queen Victoria is commending her long reign; Thackeray is writing, Dickens is publishing his novels of English life in cities; "The Princess" is given by Teenyonwu in a series of short stories on action and bustle and moving events spins on. And isolated from most of this world the three sisters write the names—Thornfield Hall, Withering Heights, Thruncerness Orange, Wildfell Hall, names which are associated with the act of the heather in them, names which have power to impress and to scar the memory.
The November duck is settling down from the moorland and the piercing wind is whirling about in insistent prology of snow. Haworth Parsonage is lighted in one window. The door is open and a slight figure is standing on the stoop. When her eyes are still glued to the mirror on the health also appears and holds out her arms.
"Come in, dears," she says, "Emily, Anne. Scones tonight."
The door closes on the darkness . . . It is teatime in the Brome house.
PS
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PRICES Matinee and Evening 25.50s
ROWD"
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