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Thursday, November 15, 1973
University Daily Kansan
KANSAN comment
Editorials, columns and letters published on this page reflect only the opinions of the writers.
A Dangerous Game
Two benefit high school football games will be played this Saturday at the Chief's stadium of the Harry Complex in Kansas City, Mo.
The proceeds will go into a fund for Pat Bickle, a 17-year-old former football star who was severely injured in a high school game in
A front-page story in a Kansas City newspaper told of the tackle that injured Bickle's spine and left him paralyzed from the neck down. The story told of the fight twice to be saved before the game, of the family's anguish when the extent of the boy's injury became known.
The story did not tell about the days, years ago, when a younger Bickle and his brother would visit the boxing classes their father taught at the YMCA and delight the boxers with their antics. The two boys would run and tumble with the energy of small dynamos.
No one who saw Pat Bickle then could have imagined that at age
seventeen, he would lie in a strange bed in Denver, unable to move, with little if any prospect for improvement.
There are those who would blame Bickle's tragedy on football and decry the game for its unnecessary roughness. They might even point to players who have already suffered broken bones and torn ligaments.
Others will contend that football is not to blame, and that there are other sports equally as rough. Still, the facts at Pat Bickle.
The injuries of Bickle and others will not bring an end to the displays of over-zealous brute strength on the playing field, but perhaps they will serve as reminders of the frailty of the human body.
And perhaps these reminders will serve as a restraint in an interim while players and fans rethink the purpose of sports and ask themselves whether sports should lead to injuries at all.
—Linda Hales
Rv MIKE McGRADYO
Nixon Should Be Booted-Upstairs
NEW YORK—Impeaching a president is clearly not an easy thing to do. Month after month, as the catastrophes have accumulated, Congress has found one excuse after another to avoid the task. And small wonder. To impeach a president is to admit an error of no small magnitude; it is often simpler to live with a mistake than to admit
But perhaps there is a way out. Dr. Laurence J. Peter, author and originator of the Peter Principle ("In a hierarchy, every person is subject to competition"), has an alternate suggestion. He thinks we should treat the President the way a major firm would treat an employee.
In other words, Peter thinks President Nixon should be kicked upstairs. Writing in the current issue of Psychology Today, the psychologist argues that Congress would then have to do nothing more onerous than correct a small oversight: "America's health system should not be created to create innocuous positions to tick a president up to." The other day, during a brief visit to Manhattan, Peter paused long enough to elaborate on the thought.
"HE MIGHT BE CALLED chairman of the board," he said. "We would surely want him to be responsible for greeting visiting dignitaries. We could trust him to lay cornerstones and, God knows, in a country this size there are many cornerstones to be laid. We could have him throw out the first ball of the season and so forth."
There are doubles some purists who will object to the elevation of an incompetent.
Perhaps they will want to test related approaches. Peter had earlier described an alternate technique, the basic Lateral Arabesque, "The incompetent employee is given a new and longer title and is moved to an office in a remote part of the building."
POSSIBLY, IT WAS suggested, the President would see through all this.
"He might then be given the title of chancellor." Peter said. "At a university the chancellor is held above the president. And he could then, of course, be given a set of robes and appropriate medallions. I would suggest he also be given an impressive official mansion, that sort of thing."
"Well, perhaps we could call him president-general or premier-general," he said. "And certainly Congress could please send a message to the president, one demanding the prestige of the President. It could be emphasized that diplomatic and ceremonial functions would be of vital importance. And, of course, it was our responsibility to prevent that was nonartisan, totally above politics."
Peter, the author of two bestsellers, "The Peter Principle" and "The Peter Prescription," was asked whether it might be helpful to give him more money.
"Yes, we better give it to him," he said. "The same would hold true of any active crook; you put him in an advisory position and he can't be a crook any more. He would contracts or declare wars and he would probably require compensatory income."
PETER ADMITS that political patterns are not always the same as patterns in other
Phil McKnight
Grades: A Matter of Achievement
Discussions about grading may be characterized in two ways: they are splintered and they are inconsequential. The splintered, disparate nature of such discussions is a reflection of the number and complexity of the various instructors, instructors, students, values, etc.,—all are reflected in the information, usually anecdotal, presented.
Yet, a tacit assumption seems to exist that the experiences are comparable, thereby making the points raised in such discussions generalizable to a variety of subject areas and classroom situations. Seldom, if ever, does someone ask what course a person was interested in, or whether they ever missed an "A" by one point. The response is more likely to be one of "I know—let me tell you about what happened to me . . ."
WITH REGARD TO THE closure reached at the end of such conversations, it is usually lacking; that is, there is seldom a resolution or even a resolute feeling about a topic. The principal value of be offered but the principal value of the discussion often seems to be therapeutic.
Common to both of these factors is a sense of confusion about how to approach the apparent chaotic situation. But there is also an underlying sense of frustration which stands in the way of meaningful reform. Such frustration is caused by the fact that the normal curve has become prescriptive instead of desiring to reflect on to reflect on any and all class situations, there should be a "spread" in the grades.
ONE TEACHER'S comment that he had been tactfully reprimanded by his peers for "giving too many A's" reflects the phenomena. Logically, such a comment could never be made. Grades should reflect performance—thus this teacher should have been pleased to find that most of his class had reached the level of achievement to be recognized by the symbol "A." It is disturbing to hear comment about structurers who are tough. It is equally disturbing to hear students thank their instructors for "giving them a grade. In sum, student achievement should be the criterion for grades attained—nothing else. Thus, if an entire class achieves grades of "A"-fine.
On the other hand, they should be free to fail. also.
SUCH ALLOCATION OF grades on bases other than achievement may be a reflection of something more insidious than inept or inadequate evaluation procedures. It is possible that grades are one means in which a society seeks to allocate schools merely precluding some of its constituents from being able to compete for them.
If, for example, 10 per cent of the students are chosen for Phi Beta Kappa membership, the other 90 per cent do not have the opportunity for advancement which accrues from such membership. Or, if a high school student is assigned a role as a teacher for a year, his life's chances have been diminished by the fact that many pedagogical opportunities may be unavailable to him, not only that year, but in subsequent years.
THE POINT IS NOT that Phi Beta Kappa or ability tracking are bad, but that they are not carefully used. In other words, what does a Phi Beta Kappa key represent? A sort of general index of ability? If so, then the index should be defined. Not to do so is to
leave open misinterpretation of the honor—to not only imbue the key with significance it does not have, but to take advantage of presents from receiving justly deserved rewards.
I have heard interviewers from industry say they do not want Phi Beta Kappa recipients because they are not practical. Not practical for what? Can practicality be ascertained by looking over a grade transcript?
IN SUM, RECONGITION of achievement may be inadequate and often perverse because criteria for grades are ill defined or used for social purposes. With regard to the need for students to have many students on invalid or inappropriate grounds diminishes their potential contribution to our society at a time when we need everyone's contribution. The solution to this problem may involve a fundamental shift in our values, which will be discussed next.
(Phil McKnight, assistant professor of education and director of the Office of Instructional Resources, prepares a regular course on Kansas dealing with issues in teaching.)
Cable Cars Still Creaking Along
Taking a Ride? Better Say Your Prayers First
SAN FRANCISCO—The cable car of San
Francisco is 100 years old this year, and
they feel it.
You never saw so many deceptive trammars. They are meant to carry 30 persons but twice that number hang on; they go up and down in a jumbled manner in one five, and by God, they frighten me.
By TERRY COLEMAN The Manchester Guardian
There's not a personal injury lawyer who doesn't slave every time he sees one rattle past. They lose $2 million a year. But they have been desirée national historic landmarks, and their centenary has been properly celebrated by the striking of silver and gold medals, the concoction and eating of an ice cream sundae weighing 1,600 pounds and the playing on cable cells of such allure as "Watzing Marlene" and "Lil Marlene."
Furthermore, it was all started by a Scottsman who, in the best humantarian tradition of the 19th century, was horrified one foggy night in San Francisco to see a horse truss that he helplessly backs out of those grids dragging its four horses with it.
HIS NAME WAS Andrew Halliday, his godfather was physician to Queen Victoria, he had himself already perfected cables to bring gold ore down from the peaks of the high Sierras and he thought his cables could pull trammars too. He was not believed
What happens when man apposes his highest level of incompetence has been vividly described by Peter. It is the dreaded Final Placement Syndrome.
This was not surprising. It has been said that the San Francisco street pattern must have been laid out on a bar-room table at a meeting of the Earth Society, unaware of the effect of gravity on a six-ton tram on a one-in-five hill.
But Hallield built his tramns and his cables, and one dawn a hundred years ago, the first tramway opened.
These are cable cars with the cable not above them, as in Switzerland, but below them, running in slots beneath the streets. These are cables that are on an hour. When he wants to move, the driver grips this moving cable with a device that looks like a cross between a railway signal lever of the old pattern and a great big pair of keys for locking and unlocking the cable or the use and his wheel brakes.
The intended driver took one long look down the six blocks of precipitous hills before him, got off and slowly walked away. Hallidie drove it himself—and it worked
which suggests that not one of the three is confidently expected to work. One definition of a native San Francisco is that he is a person who can reliably predict where a cable car is going to stop—more or less. All this, of course, is in heavy traffic. Everyone agrees that cable cars have right of way.
Perhaps this is a bit hard on these moving historic landmarks. They don't maim many people. The last bad crash was in 1967 when a car cable, descending a hill without a grip reached the bottom of the wall, flattened one, caught fire, scattered 35 of its passengers and killed two persons.
It concerned a cable car which rolled down a hill one day in 1964. On board was Gloria Sykes, a Sunday school teacher in her 20s, who sued the city of San Francisco five years later for $500,000 asserting that the accident, in which she had suffered a few bruises, had turned her from modesty to nymphomania.
But on the credit side, one car cable did bring about what must be one of the most hilarious cases in the whole lawyer-ridden history of American actions for damages.
"His medical indicators, while known only to his doctor, may include excessive sweating, insomnia, chronic fatigue with a need for seclusion at vacation sites, spastic muscles, viral vulnerability or other psychiatric symptoms. We have also seen symptoms are more complex and difficult to measure because they often involve obsessive overkill in activities that once contributed to his promotions. For example, if suspicion of others led to early triumphs, he may try harder by expanding his enemy's network of pickets at random from the newspapers."
Defense counsel for the city did his best.
BEFORE THE ACCIDENT, she said, she had only had two lovers, and one of those had been a professor at the University of Michigan who seduced her when she was high on champagne. But afterward she said the substance* 'and took 100 wines in five years.'
"Mathematically," he said, "it doesn't come out at much."
But Miss Sykes' virtue was not to be spoken of so lightly. She herself spoke about it and her 100 lovers in court for two and three years, who were like asking a prouse why it ate cheese.
So did the jury. they awarded her $50,000. The foreman afterward said he thought it should have been $300,000. The city considered it had gotten off lightly and said it didn't care how much of the damages went to his lawyers. Sykes and how much went to her lawyers.
It was all good publicity, though, and this is what the cable cars are for. They are objects to put on travel posters advertising San Francisco. They are moving platforms from which tourists can see a panorama of the famous Gate Bridge, the bay and cafeteria.
Outside the court, reporters bid for her diary. Inside, her attorney, having quoted Shakespeare, turned to the Bible. She was a fallen sparrow, but God, in his infinite wisdom, watched over even the fall of a snarrow.
There are only 39 of them left on only three routes. Most of the city has ordinary buses. Only one new car has been built for the city. The cars are carefully preserved. The powell cars, those
businesses. His theory first came to him in his native Vancouver, where he served as mental health coordinator for the school system.
THE TRAM THAT had caused this lamentable loss of sparrowhood was inevitably called A Cable Car Named Desire.
running on the most spectacular gradients, have pilot boards and steps in suede grey, seats and sasshes in Dupont sand and fronts and ceilings in Dupont ivory.
THE MEN WHO TAKEN rope and work the fearsome-looking grip, and who, by making a slight mistake at the wrong time, could smash the whole rackety cabodie, are the men of the Golden West. I am sure they are coached to play the part.
The maintenance men love to scare you with tales of splicing wwn cables at night—each cable made of six strands of 16 wires each, of mild plow steel. A cable is known as a rope. When a cable car grips and moves, it is said to "take rope."
In the old days they were all Irishmen, heart-good fellows who would befriend newly arrived Chinese by beating off thugs who wanted to rob them. In return, the staff would press on the lirachna little gifts of rice cakes, tea, and carve away Touching.
There are still Irishmen. I was told there were Irishmen. I went to the two ends of the Powell and Hyde line and inquired for Irishmen who had been caught, black, and they silk had a lovely braggadocio.
The conductors have a patter, perhaps having been convinced, like London bus conductors, that all proper conductors do. "Fares," sang out the conductor at the top of Nob Hill. "Pay now. Clear your conscience. We're going down."
IT MIGHT BE argued that the best thing for the president himself would be a brand new post, a grand new title. Nixon once said that if he were not president he would like most of all to be a sports writer. This brings to mind a natural Lateral Drawing from by acclaim, name him the first official National Sports Writer of the United States.
Griff and the Unicorn
“Well, that may not work today.” Peter said. “As you say, his son, in-law David Eisenbower has already done that, been a judge and he might be lookup it as a step down.”
by Sokoloff
He noticed that the best teachers were made principals, thus keeping them from teaching. The best principals, in turn, were promoted to other positions. The monumental revelation, he realized that people are promoted until they find themselves in a job they can't handle and need to quit.
"Politics is somewhat different," he said. "The system by which a person rises within the party is the same. But electoral politics is like show business; a person can be a nobody this week and then find himself with a hit record next week."
There are some who think Nixon reached his level of incompetence many years ago, possibly when he failed in his bid to win a gubernatorial contest in California. In actuality, it may have been then that Nixon did not private practice and run for public office.
"HE WAS AT FIRST a lawyer specializing in tax matters," Peter said. "We must assume he was a competent lawyer. If he did as well for others as he did, he would have been one of the best. His misfortune may have been in ever leaving that field."
Walt Kelly: An Artist, A Teacher, a Friend
The Washington Post
By JOSEPHP. MASTRANGELO
I met him when he came to work as the art editor of the New York Star, a paper that took over where the liberal daily, PM, left off.
Knowing Walt Kelly was one of the good things that happened in my life.
The New York Star was a tabloid that lasted 220 exciting days. When PM folded on June 22, 1948, the whole staff was out of work. On June 23 most of us in nonexecutive jobs were hired by the Star for a 60-day trial period. Things looked bleak.
There were a lot of rumors about the new art editor who was coming in to take over,
The rumors were wrong. When Walt Kelt came in and shook hands all around, you knew the handshake was honest, and the smile was honestly warm.
The Pogo strip was very seldom more than a day ahead. Kelly was busy reshaping the pages of the paper, running a department, writing and drawing the strip six days a week and drawing three political cartoons a week.
During the time that Kelly was running the shop you looked forward to coming to work. He wasn't a boss, he was a teacher. He never gave an order, he suggested. He never said, "You did something wrong." He would show you the way to do it.
WHEN WALT KELLY came to the star he brought Pogo along with him from the comic books, and that little opossum took on life and became one of the staff.
He would leave his house in Darien,
Conn., every morning, pencil the daily
panel on the train and when he got to
the office, he sit down and ink it in.
Right on deadline, with seconds to go before the engravers would begin to yell for art work, Kelly came in the door, a big smile on his face, waving the panel.
KELLY LOVED to do political cartoons. He loved to get the needle into some pompous politician, or just need for the fun of it. When Tom Dewey, then the governor of New York, was running against President Truman in 1948, Kelly used to deprecate that great big egg with Dewey's face, sitting on a wall, getting ready for that fall.
When you work this close to deadline, something is bound to happen. He called one day to say that he was in a railroad yard looking through empty trains for the Pogo strips he left on the train. There was panic, and end of mine tried to put a panel together.
F
The New York Star was a happy paper to work on, the morale was high. We picked Harry Trommel to win, and we backed him. He was one of the best in a new life, but the ads still didn't come in.
For the next few months I ran into Kelly at least once a week in a bar called
The city room ended up standing three deep at a bar up the street from the plant. Kelly came up behind a few of his ex-staff, put his arms around us and told the bartender to give us anything we wanted and to put it on his bill.
One night Kelly came in with a long look on his face. He told us there was a meeting in the city room. When the staff was gathered together, Bartley C. Crum, the publisher, got up on a desk and, "We just published the last edition of the Star."
Costello's on Third Avenue in New York. It was a hangout for artists and writers. The walls were covered with original New Yorker cartoons. One wall had large James Thurber originals. The bar was known for its drinkers rather than the food served. Kelly always asked how things were going, and the employment makes lairs out of everyone.
The newspaper business was being hit by
strikes, and that meant unemployment.
THINGS PICKED up, I landed a job and wedding plans were made. Kelly always said, "If you ever need anything, call me." So I called him and borrowed $100.
Along about the second strike, Kelly called me up and said he was behind in production of the Pogo books, and could I drop everything and come in and help him?
I had been married about six months when I received a letter from him thanking me and saying, "You are the first bird to pay me back," and "The letter was back with surprise."
When I asked some questions around the house, I found out that my wife had been saving money each month and sent Kelly a check for the full amount of the loan.
By 1960 Pogo was in 420 newspapers, and Kelly was putting it out in book form.
Then it sort of became routine. Some union would shut down the papers and Kelly would always call, suddenly desperate for help.
When I moved away from New York, I missed seeing Kelly standing at the bar in Costello's making everyone around him feel warm.
Kelly had a way of saying 'hello' to people by lettering their name on the side of the old swamp boat that Pogo sat in while drifting through the Okeenokee Swamp.
I KEPT UP with the strip, reading it every day. I saw all the little inside messages that he got across to his friends. He always knew faces of his pals on many computers, applique armor.
One day he would have the name of some friend's child who would be recuperating from an ailment. Another time it would be Herbock or Ken Crawford.
Several months ago I heard from a mutual friend that Kelly was anling. I called him to say hello, and he said "When you get to New York, call me and we'll go out and play."
I never did get up to see him again. But a few weeks ago I picked up Pogo, and there was my name sticked at the side of the door. I knew all about her, saying, "Hello, I'm thinking about you."
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