4 Wednesday, November 12, 1986 / University Daily Kansan THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN The cost of cocaine "I am sorry because I messed up my life and have been an embarrassment to family and friends. I lost everything of real value." These words, spoken by Richard von Ende in U.S. District Court Monday, cut to the essence of drug dependency: In the end, everyone loses. von Ende, the University's former executive secretary and legislative liaison, will be heading to a federal prison in Texas next month to begin serving a three-year sentence for selling cocaine. In a speech to the court, von Ende talked about what drugs had done to his life and what he was leaving behind. "The evil man do lives after them; the good is off intertwined with their bones," he said, quoting from Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar." Opinions This isn't necessarily so. During his 13 years with the University, von Ende used a supply hand and hard facts to convince legislators that KU was growing and needed more money from the state. Legislators respected him, listened to him and responded to his requests with new programs, buildings and increased financing. It's up to von Ende whether the bad will remain. The good will live after Richard von Ende; through his work, he has left an indelible mark on KU. He will serve his sentence and then try to rebuild his life. Von Ende has plenty of friends in Topeka and Lawrence who will want to give him the support he needs to recover. What led to von Ende's cocaine seduction is of great speculation and little consequence. What matters is all that remains — remorse and another painful lesson in the destructive power of drugs. Cocaine won. How many more "lessons" will we need? The University lost a trusted official, and von Ende lost the life he built here. Let it not be said that the Rev. Lawrence Martin Jenco doesn't sympathize with the suffering of the U.S. hostages in Lebanon. Concessions to terrorists For 17 months, he was one of them. Nevertheless, he was quoted Monday as saying that he would have preferred to stay in captivity had he known weapons were the price of his freedom. Over the last few days, warnings that speculation about secret negotiations jeopardize the possibilities for the hostages' release have dominated the news. That's minor compared to the way the safety of Americans all over the world has been jeopardized by reports of an Iran deal. Although Jenco was looking at the issue from a moral standpoint, a pragmatic assessment yields the same conclusion: the United States was wrong if they traded military supplies to Iran in exchange for the release of hostages. The likes of Col. Moammar Gadhafi were probably grinn ing from ear to ear after hearing reports that the United States had been shipping arms to Iran as hostage ransom for more than a year. Running low on spare parts for the war? Displaying a couple of bound and gagged Americans may solve that problem. The affair represents a large blow to our government's credibility. Our public policy: no weapons for Iran, no concessions to terrorists. Such secret actions would show that our words mean nothing. Secretary of State George Shultz was justifiably incensed when the story came out. The Iran connection allegedly was made by the White House National Security Council, against Shultz's objections and without congressional approval. Such an abuse of power would have severe consequences. The United States may now have some of the blood of the Iran-Iraq war on its hands, and Americans may have been endangered further now that terrorism has been made profitable. Fulfilling obligations This puts KU well below the national default rate of 10 percent. Apparently, most KU students realize you can't get something for nothing. Only 4.46 percent of students with student loans default on them after graduation. University officials say KU's low default rate can be traced to student's pride and affection for the institution and the exit interview students attend prior to graduation, in which payment schedules and obligations are explained. But those are only part of the reason. No matter how elaborate the exit interview or the collection system, there are some students who do figure out a way to evade their lending institutions, often by moving and leaving no forwarding addresses. There will always be a few students who find repaying loans a bother they'd rather not deal with once they get out in the "real world" and start making money. The problem is not that these students are as shamed of their college; they simply refuse to be responsible about loan obligations. Perhaps the reason KU's default rate is so low is that the University promotes a liberal arts education, where students are encouraged to study disciplines outside their majors. They graduate with a well-rounded view of the world, and a better sense of their place and their obligations in it. News staff News staff Lauretta McMillen ... Editor Kate McMaster ... Managing editor Tad Clarke ... News editor David Silverman ... Editorial editor John Hanna ... Campus editor Frank Hansel ... Sports editor Jodi Kelly ... Photo editor Tom Eblen ... General manager, news adviser Business staff David Nixon ... Business manager Angus Koulu ... Retail sales manager Denise Stephens ... Campus sales manager Sally Depew ... Classified manager Lisa Weems ... Production manager Duncan Coutionn ... National sales manager Jewelly Kastens ... Traffic manager Jeanne Hines ... Sales and marketing adviser **Letters** should be typeed, double-spaced and fewer than 200 words and should include the writer's name, address and telephone number. If the writer is affiliated with the University, include class and hometown, or faculty or staff position. **Guest shots** should be typed, double-spaced and fewer than 700 words. The The Kansan reserves the right reject or edit letters and guest shots. They can be mailed or brought to the Kansan newsroom, 111 Stauffer-Fint Hall. Guest shots should be typed, double-spaced and fewer than 700 words. The writer will be photographed. The University Daily Kansan (USPS 650-640) is published at the University of Kansas, 118 Stuuffer Flint Hall, Lawrence, Kan. 60045, daily during the regular school year, excluding Saturday, Sunday, holidays and finals periods, and on Wednesday during the summer session. Second-class postings are Lawrence, Kan 60044 Subscriptions to $27 a year in Douglas County (which covers $3 a month) and $35 a year outside the county. Studios are $12 a month and $3 are paid through the student activity fee. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to the University Daily Kansan, 118 Struffer-Fint Hall, Lawrence, Kan. 66045 And they'd probably still be at it, keeping the flow of money going for LaRouche. And LaRouche would be When victory ends in defeat Then they'd phone and give the hard sell. And the law of averages held true. By phoning enough people and talking long enough about a world crisis, they found those who were vulnerable: The lonely, senile, or those with a sincerne desire to do something, even if that something was stupid. I'm not sure if it will make Adalie Stevenson feel any better, but he accomplished something worthwhile for the entire nation in his failed bid to become governor of Illinois. Every day they'd hustle money for LaRouche. They set up tables in airports, handing out anti-drug and pro-nuclear literature and gathering names of people who were concerned about these issues. So for years, they've been onning these gullible souls out of large chunks of money. Mike Royko This went on for years. Some of us wrote about it. But, what the heck, every day there a new racket exposed in the papers, so how can the average person keep up with it all? Chicago Tribune He, more than anyone else, is responsible for the disintegration of the nasty little empire of Lyndon B. LaRouche He knew that in a nation of 200 million people, there had to be a few million who are gullible. It was the job of his followers to find and fleece them. Until last spring Illinois primary, most people had never noticed LaRouche and his merry band of paranoids. He was just a fringe presidential candidate who liked buying TV time so he could ramble on about weird conspiracies and bizarre economic theories. Ah, but there was more to LaRouche than that. Despite the apparent presence of some woolly caterpillars between his ears, he has a shrewd streak. Especially when it comes to raking in money. playing mind games for the mentally added. But they made a fatal mistake. Two of them managed to win the Illinois Democratic primaries for lieutenant governor and secretary of state. It was like a political thunderclap. Suddenly the whole country was gawking at Illinois and asking: "Who are these people? What's a LaRouchite? How did they do it?" It was a fluke. Fluke though it was, it wrecked Stevenson's campaign. From day one, there was no campaign — only confusion. Out of principle, he withdrew as the Democratic candidate, saying he couldn't tolerate a goof like Fairchild as his running mate. And the tragedy — at least for Stevenson — is that he might have won without the Larocquite factor. Four years ago, he came within only 5,000 votes. Since then, incumbent Gov. James Thompson hasn't become any more popular, especially after raising taxes. But in wrecking Stevenson's campaign, the LaRouchites also wrecked themselves. Because of the Illinois primary, state law enforcement officials all over the country took a hard look at the LaRouchites. So did the federal government. LaRouche is now being hit from every direction with lawsuits and grand jury investigations. Several of his zombies have been indicted. Some fled the country. The LaRouche scam is finally over. As time passes, though, Stevenson might reflect on how his personal disaster led to our society being rid of the menace — or at least the nuisance — of the LaRouchettes. And maybe when enough time has passed, and the wounds have healed, somebody might reflect on how his personal disaster led to our society being rid of the menace — or at least the nuisance — of the LaRouchites. And maybe when enough time has passed, and the wounds have healed, somebody might ask Stevenson, "Was your sacrifice worth it?" I'm sure, statesman that he's always been. Adalai will answer: "What are you, some kind of a nut?" Time to meet a new majority According to a headline I saw earlier this year, almost a fourth of the working women in America regard their bosses as "bozos." My dictionary defines a bozo as a "fellow" or a "guy." In other words, a male. Dick West UPI Commentary Just because National No Bozos Day was created by Larry Harmon, who plays what has been described as "television's most popular and enduring clown," doesn't necessarily mean that all bozos are clowns. Some may shirk to conclusions, consider that No Bozos Day this year was celebrated Friday, which my calendar tells me was three days after elections. I'm sure the voters wouldn't have elected any clowns to Congress even if the two events had coincided. Not when they could keep the clowns for themselves by electing them governors or something. Some may simply be men. Harmon, incidentally, defines a zoan as "a peculiar type of fellow." He says bozos are likely "to miss the meaning of an entire event because they are caught up in the meaningless detail." By that definition, I could see why nearly a quarter of the surveyed readers of the magazine Working Women consider their company managers "bozos." I've never been a boss myself but I can tell you a bit about "meaningless detail." And there's more. Could the survey mean that it would be better if managers saw the meaning of entire events? Well, before you start jumping to conclusions consider that Harmon said one of the purposes of No Bozos Day was to convey the message: "Don't be a Bozo when it comes to personal health and safety." I hardly need point out that Working Women didn't ask its readers whether male supervisors were unhealthy or unsafe. The poll merely required them to answer such questions as whether their bosses inspired loyalty. One of the ways auto parts dealers are trying to promote health and safety on the highways is by selling motorists "collision avoidance" lights, or third brake lights that fit into rear windows. I would say from my ventures into rush-hour traffic this year that the lights are at least as popular as the fake radiator portholes that enjoyed a brisk sale back in days when cars still had fenders. I will conceive, however, that one purpose of "collision avoidance" lights is more than cosmetic, although many motorists may have bought them primarily to prove they drive late-model cars. According to Harmon, "there are millions of 'unauthorized' Bozos across America." He doesn't guess at how many climb behind the wheel on occasions, but I would say most commuters drive as if they were caught up in meaningless detail. Perhaps "collision avoidance" lights will help them see entire events. Meanwhile, any driver who runs in the rear of your car when a third brake light in the rear window is clearly glowing, is strictly a bozo that women can't eliminate by getting a job. More than they could never want Voters put up with plenty of bizarre behavior from their public officials frequently too much. they eject — and too often re-elect — crooks, cheats, liars, losers, philanders, cheats, phones, egomaniacs, eccentrics, bumblers or boozees who either play fast and loose with their Bud Newman UPI Commentary That is what happened in the Florida Senate race on Election Day. Ideally, those elevated to public office should reflect people's best instincts, not their worst ones. public trust, or who simply don't have the brains, background, dedication or discipline to serve the people. That, of course, is the ideal, not the reality. And few, if any, elected officials meet all ideals. But when the public senses that one has crossed over the invisible lines that separate the serious officeholders from the superficial ones, the superficial ones usually get tossed out. Republican Sen. Paula Hawkins was tossed out after one term by voters who saw in her Democratic opponent, Gov. Bob Graham, someone who better symbolized those ideals of public service, than did the maddeningly mercurial, frequently factless Hawkins. She was swept out of office by 55 percent of the vote — by far the largest losing margin of any of the seven Republican senators who were sent packing Nov. 4 by Democratic challengers. Hawkins lost for several reasons, including the fact that Ronald Reagan was not heading the GOP ticket to carry her to victory as he did in 1980, even though he campaigned for Hawkins in Florida four times this year. She said things that were probably false. Sometimes she denied saying them, even though they were on tape. Also, the state Democratic Party was united behind Graham rather than hopelessly split, as in 1980 after Democratic Sen. Richard Stone lost to his arch-rival in a bitter party primary. But even more importantly, Hawkins lost because in the public's mind she simply did not measure up to what a senator should be. Most observers who watched Hawkins throughout her career would acknowledge that she seemed out of her league in the Senate. Over her six years, she made more lists of the worst or least respected senators than any of her 99 colleagues. On dozes of occasions, she said things that were probably false. Sometimes, she denied saying them, even though they were on tape. She shot from the lip and, frequently, wound up wounding herself instead of her intended target. She made off-the-wall proposals to deal with serious problems, like the time in 1883 she suggested that health warnings like those on cigarette packs be required on all marijuana cigarettes. She could show horrendous judgment, like the time, a month after she took office, she had a lavish luncheon for lobbyists and served steak, fresh asparagus and strawberries to announce she was filing a bill to throw food stamp cheaters in jail. That "steak and jail" luncheon is now legendary. Not only was the idea preposterous on its face, because marijuana "joints" are hand-rolled, but her suggested warning was 79 words long. A joint that big would have gagged even a ganja-crazed Rastafarian. Ironically, Hawkins helped create the public's low expectations of her in her first statewide race for the utility-regulating Public Service Commission in 1972. She billed herself then as an unsophisticated "housewife from Maitland," a blue-collar Orlando suburb. She won in a stunning upset, but she has bumbled and stumbled her way in and out of various statewide campaigns and offices ever since. Her 1980 Senate victory may have been a fluke, but her 1986 defeat was not. Paula Hawkins had crossed too many of those invisible lines that separate the serious politicians from the other kind. And on Election Day, the voters told her so.