4
University Daily Kansan
Opinion
Tuesday, Oct. 22, 1985
Last week the School of Pharmacy celebrated its centennial. As a certain insurance company says in its advertisements, the School of Pharmacy keeps doing an excellent job quietly.
100 years of pharmacy
This "quiet school" has only 130 graduate and 240 undergraduate students in a discipline that outsiders often find arcane. As often happens, people at a distance may appreciate a good thing more than those nearby.
The school also has benefited from the leadership of Takeru Higuchi, University Regents distinguished professor of chemistry and pharmaceutical chemistry. When Higuchi retired last year, scholars and company representatives from around the globe came to Lawrence to honor him.
KU graduates populate faculties and deans' offices of other schools of pharmacy throughout the country. Foreign schools and governments want graduates from and exchanges with KU.
Like KU's reputation, the
discipline of pharmacy has grown enormously. What some people think of as pharmacy — dispensing drugs in a grocery store or hospital — is incorporated into one department called pharmacy practice.
The growing complexity of pharmacy leaves the school with the prospect of expanding its undergraduate program from five to six years to increase clinical education. For students, this extra year of study might make choosing to study pharmacy more difficult — and expensive — than it is now.
But they will continue to choose pharmacy education at KU. The best is always attractive. The School of Pharmacy is entering its second century in very good health.
The school also has departments of pharmacology and toxicology, pharmaceutical chemistry and medicinal chemistry. Pharmacy also is a huge research industry, and prestige and money come to KU because of its West Campus laboratories.
Late night loyalty
It was a show of late night loyalty.
Midnight, Oct. 15, Allen Field House: Larry Brown and the Jayhawk basketball team tip off the season with a little midnight madness.
All in the name of school spirit, the team celebrated its first official practice session by opening up the field house for basketball-hungry fans.
And the fans turned out. Some 6,000 people sacrificed a little sleep to watch the scrimmage — screaming, shouting and cheering every slam dunk.
the cheerleaders were there. The pep band was there. And of course, the press was there — not missing an opportunity to catch a glimpse of the highly touted 'Hawks, ranked as high as seventh in pre-season polls.
A publicity stunt? Maybe.
A publicity stunt! Maybe!
A good time? You better
believe it.
But this was no spectator scrimmage. For 40 minutes, Brown turned over the coach's reins to six KU students. The
team might not have gotten its most productive workout of the season, but the fans got a good show.
In addition to his celebrity coaching credentials, he has displayed a flair for encouraging student support for the team. Last winter, for example, he and the Athletic Department passed out pizzas and doughnuts for fans lined up to buy tickets for the Oklahoma game.
Much of the credit for this late-night practice should go to Coach Brown. Since his arrival two years ago, Brown has injected some much-needed color into the basketball program, and not just with his plaid sport coats and pastel shirts.
The crowd at last week's scrimmage — 6,000 fans in the middle of the night — is a good indication of the support KU students have for their team. It shows that there's more to college basketball than ticket revenues and Top 10 rankings.
Timing is the most important part of comedy. And perhaps of politics, too.
Bush's bad timing
Last week Vice President George Bush went to China on a ceremonial visit. Unfortunately for him, the trip coincided with the baseball playoffs and the fallout from the Achille Lauro piracy. Bush got coverage, but after midweek it almost stopped. He didn't make Time or Newsweek this week.
But unofficially Bush was projecting himself as an international figure in anticipation of the 1988 presidential race, which of course started long ago. He spoke strongly for the
Reagan administration position against trade protectionism, a worry to the Chinese.
Officially, Bush visited China to reciprocate a visit by Chinese President Li Xiannian in July. He performed several ceremonial functions and discussed trade, Taiwan and a few other issues.
He even played tennis with the vice premier, providing a good photo opportunity and a neat expansion on ping-pong diplomacy.
The visit should have enhanced Bush's image. He headed the U.S. liaison office in Peking in 1974-75 and has visited China several times since. His claim to some stature in international politics is not flimsy.
But the image-making just doesn't seem to click for Bush. Today, grabbing media attention is the name of the game, but Bush couldn't rise above the competing news — something he must try to avoid once the presidential race shifts into high gear.
Rob Karwath
Editor
Duncan Calhoun Business manager
John Hanna Michael Totty
Managing editor Editorial editor
Laureta McMillen
Campus editor
Susanne Shaw
General manager, news adviser
Brett McCabe Sue Johnson
Retail sales Campus sales
Megan Burke
National/Co-op sales
John Oberzan
Sales and marketing adviser
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The daily roommate showdown
Lately, I've been noticed gobs of rivalties hyped up by the media. The "Show-Me Showdown" has received the most attention, but I won't get overly excited about a baseball event that occurs only once every 40 years or so.
The KU-K-State rivalry surfaces frequently in the form of sporting events, but it seems to be more of an artificial battle to liven up our Saturday afternoons and our athletic departments' coffers.
The Lite beer "tastes great, less filling" rivalry . . . Well, nobody really cares the tiniest bit about that perennial argument for half-wits.
When it comes right down to it, the most important rivalries, in which we participate daily, are completely ignored by the press. The fiery competitions that dramatically affect our lives are overlooked by the analysts and belittled by the prime-time sitcoms.
This rivalry is harmless in most homes but, for me anyway, each day carries a new challenge to outdo my
I'm referring to a domestic battle that affects both males and females, the single and the wedded. It's time we paid attention to the dreaded roommate rivalry.
Staff columnist
Rick Zaporowski
roommate. Our competition extends through every waking hour, beginning well before the sun rises.
Both of us depend on the morning news shows to give us the pick-me-up that coffee just can't provide. The rivalry begins here. I am a Jane Pauley man, and "The Today Show" can't be beat. But my roommate — let's call him Maynard — is quite envious of David Hartman's deep voice and insists on watching "Good Morning America."
To quell this rivalry, we've established the rule that the first person awake takes to choose the program. I get up at 4 a.m. and snacker as my roommate stumbles into the kitchen at 6:50. Rick 1, Maynard 0.
Decisions at the grocery store stir almost as much adrenaline as Jane Pauley does. We stand in aisle two and bicker about whether to buy Coke Classic or Cherry Coke. In aisle six, Maynard dashes for the Lucky Charms, and I shove him into the
flour so I can grab the Cap'n Crunch
and in aisle seven, Maynard says we should buy the generic dish soap, but I insist on the name brand that makes suds that last up to three times longer than his cheaper, bargain brand.
The media have their values mixed up if they actually think that a Missouri baseball rivalry is more important than what I use to clean my dishes.
Incidentally, we usually end up buying my favorite products. I tell my roommate to save time by waiting in the checkout aisle with the gorgeous cashier while I zip through the one with the overweight store manager, getting everything I want. All Maynard can do is pay his half of the bill and promise not to fall for that trick again. Rick 2, Maynard 0
Possibly the most intense part of our rivalry occurs late in the afternoon when the mailman arrives. It doesn't matter who removes the mail from the box. The important thing is who actually gets it.
For months I've been shaking pink, perfumed envelopes in Maynard's face as he tries to look excited about the gas bill bearing his name. My letters, of course, were from high school
girls I had charmed in writing me
— a ploy to get more mail.
Maynard recently outsmitted me and now gets much more mail than I. He bought a book titled "10,000 Free Things" and ever since has been flooded with shampoo samples, foot powders and sinus medicines. Rick 2, Maynard 1.
Our friendly rivalry continues with the thermostat level, the volume on the stereo, the status of the toilet seat and more. Although Maynard prefers to wash his dishes practically before he's finished eating, I like my tomato sauce to harden before I wash it off the plate.
I prefer glass beer bottles with which I can make music; he prefers cans so he can shoot them down his throat. I stir the martini; he shakes them so he can be like James Bond, the feel.
The "Show-Me Showdown" founders in comparison to the Battle of Apt. 4A. The KU-K-State rivalry happens hopscotch when compared to the domestic confrontations of communes worldwide.
And the "tastes great, less filling battle remains a debate for the armchair quarterbacks whose bellies grow rounder regardless of the beer's true nature.
How to choose a World Series winner
My selection process has always been the same. I try to decide which city's population is most deserving of a championship.
Every year at this time, millions of Americans are forced to make a difficult decision. Which team do we cheer for in the World Series?
There are many ways to make a choice. Some people make bets and cheer for their own money. Others favor the team that is closest to their part of the country. I'm sure many women, and some men, are influenced by players who have an effect on their libido.
I suppose we could just take the flabby way out and remain neutral. But neutrality would deprive us of the primary reward of being sports fans — moaning, grouning, swearing, pounding tables, cursing the fates, shouting at the TV set and acting as if there were something genuinely significant in the outcome of a game of bat and ball.
Most years, this hasn't been hard. Last year, for example, was obvious. The people of Detroit spent much of their lives in deep depression because they had to live in Detroit. In contrast, the people of San Diego spent much of their lives admiring their tans, riding the surf and carressing their imported cars.
Obviously, Detroit was in greater
need of something to cheer it up. And that was proved correct when Detroit finally won. The city became so giddily cheerful that it celebrated by rioting.
But if New York happened to play Los Angeles, the choice again became difficult. The L.A. fans are so laid back that the only thing they'd riot over would be an increase in the price of cocaine.
That's become the final test of how devoted the fans of a city are to their team — whether or not they have a riot. I used to think Pittsburgh was a great baseball city because it once held one of the all-time best championships. But the fans there have become so indifferent that today they probably wouldn't even tip over a subcompact car, much less a police paddy wagon.
Earlier this week, I had been counting on Toronto winning the playoffs. Then I could have cheered for the other team on the grounds that a foreign city shouldn't be winning our baseball championship. (In fairness to Toronto, though, the natives speak surprisingly good English for foreigners.)
Anytime the New York Yankees are in a World Series, the choice becomes easy, because it is a national policy to dislike everything about New York except Bernhard Goetz and Woody Allen.
Mike Royko
Chicago Tribune
And, as a rule, I never cheer for Sun Belt teams or hick towns that somehow obtained a franchise or teams that have artificial grass. If I had my way, there would be a federal law that would prohibit any expansion or Sun Belt team, such as Seattle or Atlanta, from playing in a World Series for 100 years. Or until the Cubs have made it.
That brings us to the present World Series. Not the United States Series. Or even the American Series. But "World."
But where is the whole thing being played? Within the borders of the state of Missouri.
I have nothing against Missouri. It has many fine qualities. Down near the Arkansas border, where I sometimes go fishing, you can meet some of the most congenial, generous rustics you'll find anywhere, always willing to share a piece of cone pome or a sip of their moonshine.
But it's not easy to get excited about a World Series that pits two Missouri cities against each other. And especially about a couple of
cities that don't have anything about them that you can really dislike.
So, I asked a friend who is a native of Missouri, and knows both cities intimately, to give his assessment. He said:
"St. Louis is a fine old city. But a few years ago, it put up a big dumb arch as a municipal symbol of something or other. Any city that puts up an arch or a needle or any oversized knicknack should be ashamed of itself.
"Kansas City is also a nice town. But the people there are fountain freaks. You can't walk more than a block or two without running into a big fountain spraying water every which way. It has more fountains than any city in America. The last time I was there, I spent half my time wiping mist off my glasses.
But which city is more deserving of a championship? Where is the suffering greatest?
"I think St. Louis has more urban problems and is a harder place to live than Kansas City. The biggest problem in Kansas City would be drinking too much and accidentally falling into one of the fountains."
"Without question, St. Louis. It has a terrible burden."
"It's right next to Illinois."
Mailbox
Defending schol halls
In response to the column "Reveal-
tions expose school hall harass." (Oct.
17) I would first like to. Has Gina
Kellogg since been retrieved from
the depths into which she dove for
that column?
Just to set the record straight, I know that at least two schol halls' initiation ceremonies did consist of waking up new initiates by yelling and banging pans and pans, but this was four days before the first day of change.
The banging of pans is not unlike a number of alarm clocks. I've encountered, and the yelling couldn't be much different from that heard when Mom used to make her last attempts to get me out of bed.
More to the point, once the initiates were out of bed, we, the members of the hall, took them down for breakfast. Pretty rough stuff all right. (Korror of horrors — it's, it's doughnuts!)
Gina after already diving overboard while relating the details of this event, plunged herself further from the shores of reality in describing schol hall duties. Phone duty is a necessary chore at girls' halls, and is shared by upperclass residents as
well as new members.
The main reason that school halls are cheap places to live is that the
The duty is done for 1 $ \frac{1}{2} $ hours, once a week, and is a means of leaving messages to hall members when they are out. (By the way, all the schol hails have received new push-button phones that are no longer cold, black and generic, but are warm, cream-colored and designed for the '80s.)
One reason for living in a school hall is to save money. Another reason might be to establish close friendships by being able to work and live with a variety of interesting people.
students themselves do a number of house-maintenance chores instead of hiring someone else to do them. These chores include cooking meals, cleaning up after meals and vacuuming and dusting main rooms in the house.
This might sound like an incredibly arduous set of tasks for some students, but then these are the people who probably will hire servants to work for them when they leave school and enter the real world.
You were right Gina — the schol halls would prepare you.
Columbia, Mo., senior