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By Calder M. Pickett Associate Professor of Journalism
THERE'S GOOD NEWS TONIGHT, by Gabriel Heatter. Doubleday, $3.95.
It is difficult to be harsh on a man of the obvious sincerity of an Eddie Guest or O. O. McIntyre or Gabriel Heatter. They ladle out sugar-filled muck day after day but somehow you have to believe in them.
Sincerity. They've got sincerity.
That's why it's perhaps unkind to say that "There's Good News Tonight" is like Karo syrup or a painting by Norman Rockwell. Heatter is telling his story, as he remembers it, and it's interesting stuff. Real interesting. Like, say, "The Most Unforgettable Character I've Ever Met."
The college generation may not recall Heatter, but he kept a lot of folks going during the war, folks addicted to Guest and Metcalf. Somebody's mother. Surely Heatter must have played a role in the Nixon acceptance speech last July.
Heatter started saying "There's good news tonight," when there was good news, and it cheered people up. But was he a Pollyanna? Far from it.
And that lack of resemblance to the cheerful Pollyanna is what gives this testimonial by Heatter a certain documentary importance. This man who was booming out the news that made him the Good News Man was a man of fears and obsessions
He can't account for his fears. Perhaps a psychiatrist has never been consulted. Heatter doesn't say. But Heatter would keep turning off a gas stove, or tying and retying shoeelaces. He would touch a tree for good luck. As early as his 12th year he would feel depression on the coming of twilight. He would walk to try to remove the mood.
Though he was a marked celebrity in his time he would shy away from the famous. Yet he had the capacity to perform brilliantly under stress. What his listeners didn't know was that the quiver in the voice or the halt in the speech as Heatter talked about the war was not emotion for the subject but terror arising from recollections of his own fears.
These honestly told details of a man who almost totally lacked courage give interest to a book that otherwise is completely unmemorable.
Hell of Insecurity
Perhaps the real pathos of the Administration's present anti-climax, which lights the last days of the Eisenhower Era with a soft autumnal light and shadow, is that these post-summit months were meant to be a real climax for the popular reign of the elected monarch of a great nation. The abortive, though laborious, good tour tells reveal a leader sincerely desiring peace but failing to undertake the hard bargaining necessary to achieve the goal. If so, the intended climax and the sad anti-climax of a decent but soft leader may symbolize both the essential decency and the love of ease of a great nation. If so, the symbol may also indicate an anti-climax for the nation which speaks rather pretentiously and glibly of its 'moral leadership in the free world,' while living complacently in a hell of insecurity, consoled by its innumerable comforts, and failing to take the political measures requiring discipline and courage which would make that leadership effective. In this case the nation achieved its climax of glory and power long before the Eisenhower Era; in fact, during the previous era when Eisenhower was conducting his "Crusade in Europe."
"Fortunately, history, unlike drama, has no final chapter no ultimate climax and anti-climax. There is always a chance that we will grow into the wisdom and political resourcefulness demanded by our vast responsibilities, but not guaranteed by our previous rather too comfortable existence."
Wednesday, Oct. 5, 1960 University Daily Kansan
(Excerpted from "The Eisenhower Era" by Reinhold Niebuhr in the Oct. 3, 1960, New Leader.)
The seat saving problem may be licked but there is another waiting at the gate, and I mean this in all seriousness. At the recent Syracuse game a large number of students waited in turn to get into the stadium, while others walked right by them and crowded into line at the entrances. This crowding into line is what one might expect of children but not of adult college students. Let's not have to rope off a student line with officials patrolling it. We came to KU to improve our minds, let's improve our manners also.
The Boorish Ones
Editor:
Roger W. Evans
1st year Medicine
Wichita
Disgusted Fan
October 1, 1960, KU-Syracuse Football Game!! Wow! Game of the week—and perhaps the game of the year! I planned and looked forward to seeing it.
I approached the football stadium at ten minutes after eleven o'clock Saturday morning and found a long line of students and parents forming well south of the stadium. The line was moving—and so I fell in. Directly in front and behind me were students and their parents from Coffeyville, Newton, and other Kansas towns.
I realized that to stay in line was sheer stupidity. But out of deference to the parents, "honored" guests of the KU students, I refused to join the on-rush of later arrivals who were unwilling to be courteous and considerate. Pandemonium had set in. In front of the gates marked "Student Entrance", there were huge masses of pushing people.
About 11:30 our part of the line had reached the southern limits of the stadium itself. Then stagnation set in! The movement of the original line slowed down to less than a snail's pace. New-comers were crowding in ahead of those who were already in line.
Finally at 12:10 I could see the entrance about 25-30 feet away.
Then the doors were slammed shut! Ten to 15 minutes later the second entrance (just north of the first one) was likewise slammed shut. Brother, I'd had it! The temperature out there seemed about 110 degrees hot—inside of me it was more like 220 degrees. At this point I didn't care about what sort of game would result that afternoon.
However, I'm not writing this letter to arouse any sympathy for myself. I still had time to go home where I watched the game on TV. (Incidentally, a kind neighbor "cooled me off" with refreshments not legal at the stadium. So, don't pity me!) But, is this sort of thing necessary? Here are my reasons for writing this letter:
1. ) Parents Day — I know that the Daily Kansan cannot print some of the remarks of these KU guests. They be-rated their sons and daughters for not getting them reserved seats — and, they had some juicy remarks about the "organization of this deal." They threw in some unprintable descriptions to the managers of the athletic department. Having come many miles they were unable to go home and see the game on TV. If Parents Day is intended to give the students' parents a good time, about all I can say is that for many parents last Saturday KU goofed — but good!
2. ) The KU Student — He is not getting a "fair shake." Must he be a brutalized, sub-human specimen who is willing to bull-doze his way in, regardless of who is trod on or pushed aside? If the student activity fee includes any amount toward the payment of game attendance, then I feel the student should be able to get a reserved seat ticket which would permit him to walk in quietly and calmly — quite like a human being. I experienced this at the University Theatre production on Friday night. If it can be done for the theatre production, I can see no reason why it can't be done for football and basketball games. There are numbers painted on the stadium and field house seats which could be used just like
the numbers in the Murphy Hall Theatre.
3. ) KU Ushers — Admitting that seat reservations would be complicated, I have still one more suggestion. If there had been a small number of civic-minded fraternity and/or sorority members, or some other organization members, on hand outside of the stadium to act as ushers this sort of thing probably would not have happened. These students, with an identifying armband or badge, could have reminded "line crashers" and a few thoughtless individuals to play fair and join the line. They could even be permitted to report infractions to the Pinkerton men so that such persons could be barred from admittance altogether.
I would like to be a loyal Jayhawker and a team booster, but unless a better method or procedure of getting a seat is provided for the KU student — just count me out.
- From the Terrace — A Blast Editor;
Henry P. Buller Graduate student
Compare "From the Terrace" with "All the Young Men" or "Ice Palace" or "The Bellboy" and it will surely rank as one of the outstanding shows of the year. Compared, however, with a truly fine film such as "Sons and Lovers," "Terrace" emerges as one of the dullest and, in places, most disgusting efforts of 1960.
. . .
"From the Terrace" attempts to say a great deal about the hazards of ambition, and fails. Your reviewer said the film gives an insight into life. Sure it does—about as much as does the "Tom and Jerry" cartoon that was on the same program. Wall Street can be hell and all that. Garbage!
Your reviewer also stated that the film was relaxing. He was so right. It can easily put one to sleep. I look forward eagerly to more outstanding reviews from the sugar-coated pen of C.J.P.
Bill Charles Oak Park, Ill., senior
Dr. Fatt, Instructor By Donald Hall
And why does Fatt teach English? Why, because A law school felt he could not learn the laws. He waddles brilliantly from class to class, Smiling at everyone, and at the grass.
"Hamlet," he tells his students, "you will find, Concerns a man who can't make up his mind. The Tempest? . . . It's the one with Ariel.
Are there more questions now?" But one can tell That all his will, brains, and imagination Are concentrated on a higher station: He wants to be in the Administration.
Sometimes at parties he observes the Dean; He giggles, coughs, and turns aquamarine. Yet some day we will hear of "Dr. Fatt, Vice-President in Charge of This or That."
I heard the Dean observe, at tea and cakes,
Face stuffed and sneering, "Fatt has what it takes."
(Reprinted from the May 1960 Harper's Magazine.)
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