231.02 THURDIVI 23194199
feverish midnight musings of one smitten
Thanks for memories or 'yes, we're crazy'
Every editor swears he won't write one, but none can resist the temptation of the farewell editorial. All occupants of the desk marked "editorial editor" seem to fall victim to a fatal virus; an obsession to get in the last word.
THOSE NOT IN JOURNALISM may find it difficult to understand the emotions of those who have heard the song of the Kansan Muse. In my three-semester tenure, the Kansan has progressed from being a necessary part of course work, to an activity, to a way of life. It's a full-time job; school is secondary. The hours that other students spend at the Wheel are spent in front of a typewriter in 112 Flint. And the hours that other students spend studying are spent at the Wheel—trying to forget the pathetically low grade point average which is a direct consequence of Kansan labor.
All this for one hour of credit and $18.75 a month.
Yes, I am genuinely sorry to leave this cluttered desk,
but I plan to celebrate the parting. For the Kansan is an albatross around the student's neck but, like the Campanile chime, you miss it when it's not there.
LIKE EVERY SAPPY, nostalgic editor. I have tried to evaluate the past semester. At first glance the estimate is deplorably depressing. There is that master list of projects I made at the first of the semester staring me in the face—and we just didn't have time to get in most of those Crucial Questions of Our Day. It takes 70 inches of copy to fill one editorial page—that's approximately 250 70-space typewritten lines.
Two people, grandly titled "editorial editors," bear the load. Not only do they edit the copy; they also research it, write it, commission it or steal it. And these ain't that many hours in a student's day. For the editorial editor not only is expected to be conscientious, devoted, perceptive, intelligent and concise—but also is expected to carry a full academic load.
We just never got the time to investigate the conditions in off-campus housing. Nor did we have the time to campaign for a new housing code, better street-lighting, a course-critique system, abolishment of closed classes and prerequisites.
THERE WERE TOPICS we could have touched but didn't. With a few exceptions, we kept out of Viet Nam—which is the position we feel the government should be taking. But no matter what we could have said, it's been said before.
Upon second thought, the estimate becomes slightly more encouraging. The major issue of the semester, we decided, was student rights, and from the first day we did our best to convince administrators and students alike of the advantages of responsibility and freedom.
If we did not work objective miracles in four months, perhaps we set a precedent for responsible protest and, with luck, future editorial editors will continue "the cause." We feel that we have achieved some small success toward our major goal: making people think. It is unfortunate that the only yard-stick by which an editor can measure his success is a tally of tempers aroused. And, certainly, we have made a lot of people mad.
CERTAIN MEMBERS of the administration have made known their displeasure with our stand on student rights. And we have made known our displeasure with certain members of the administration.
The chairman of the centennial committee was sufficiently aroused to orate before Faculty Senate, after the editorial appeared concerning that obnoxious medallion.
Mssrs. Rader, Darville and Stanion were incensed because the editorial page endorsed University Party on the basis of UP's student rights stand. They falsely shouted, "Collusion!" (a sin of which Vox Populi could never be accused). But they got theirs. . .
Members of old AWS Senate were miffed because
we said their handling of the convention rules was naive and incredibly stupid.
Some Greeks were hacked because of our intimations that they controlled contents of the Jayhawker—and because of some other admittedly snide remarks which occasionally appeared. Snide, but justifiable. Our many friends in the Kappa Sig Lodge have proved snap judgments incredibly accurate. . .
PERHAPS THE ONLY GROUP which took our criticism with the same good humor in which we tried to field attacks was the Jayhawker staff. We felt it our duty not to let the old rivalry flag, but both combatants were equally kind. They didn't mention some of our faults—and we didn't mention how long the second edition stagnated in the ATO house before the pledges got around to moving them for distribution...
The greatest personal lesson we learned in the past semester is crystal clear; people who live in glass houses have to expect stones. We've received our share of signed (and unsigned) letters, angry phone calls and general browbeating. And we have discovered the only way to put this constant barrage into its proper perspective—consider the source. That swiftly eliminates the 97 per cent that is general bitching. The other three percent is constructive and becomes part of a growing body of experience which matures—no, ages—an editorial editor in four short months.
THERE ARE MANY theories to explain why the editorial editor continues as an institution, despite the disadvantages. Certainly there are no financial motivations. Some claim the hapless soul seeks experience, prestige, or the sight of his name in print. Others say the editorial editor is naive or stupid—he doesn't know what he's getting into.
Perhaps. But I think it's because we're all a little crazy.
-Jacke Thayer
opinion, fact and fancy
Halls: the spice of life
Variety is the spice of life; residence halls are filled with variety; therefore, residence halls are the spice of life. Invalid logic? Perhaps. The logic is valid, however, to the extent that the conclusion suggests something that is too infrequently noted in discussions of residence hall living, that being that life in a large hall need not be drab and unappealing.
THE SPICES which account for the tangy life to be found in a large hall are as follows; Variety, no stereotyping; opportunity, no class structure carried over from hometowns or high schools; friendship, 600 familiar faces on a crowded and bustling campus; individuality freedom to be and do whatever appeals; and happiness, for residence halls are indeed happy places to live.
Singly, the ingredient spices of residence hall living tally up as easily as though they really were part of a recipe. Variety, perhaps one of the most important and most significant
(Last of a series on Residence Hall Living)
single ingredient, is found in all the halls, large or small. There aren't very many places outside a collective living arrangement such as a residence hall, and fewer yet outside a university atmosphere, where a person can live with and learn to understand and appreciate students from a dozen foreign countries.
ASIDE FROM the enjoyment of living with foreign students and sharing the thrills they experience as they discover some new aspect of American life, one of the greatest experiences of residence hall living is to hear about, first-hand for a change, the exciting customs and traditions that make up the lives of our foreign students. A foreign student, by way of definition, may be from London or Los-Angeles, Paris or Pittsburgh, Moscow or Memphis—every student from whatever the area has something to offer to the people he lives with. Consequently, it's difficult to derive a suitable residence hall stereotype, for there is none. It would be less difficult to describe the typical
Collective living a term heard more frequently in reference to residence halls since the advent of the ten-story halls, is one of the most classless societies imaginable. In a hall, it is entirely possible—in fact, quite probable—to live with 35 people on a wing without knowing who is listed in which social register, or who is on a full scholarship. In a hall, anyone, regardless of past accomplishments or failures, can live however he wishes. There is little pressure to prove status or financial worth to the people next door . . . it's a Jonesless society.
Western Hemisphere-ite than it would be to describe the typical resident of a residence hall.
SOMETIMES this campus can be a lonely one, frighteningly large and impersonal. But that effect is quickly dispelled if you have 400-1100 familiar faces to look for amid the hustling crowds of Jayhawk Boulevard. It's really difficult to be mad or lonely if you spend any time at all watching the faces along the street, looking for those you recognize. This gives rise to a curious paradox of residence hall living, that of being able to live in virtual anonymity within the hall but still being able to feel the familiarity and recognition on campus of the people you scarcely see in the hall—a curious, and unanswered, paradox.
HAPPINESS. The final ingredient, or better yet, the finished product, for happiness is the result of the other ingredients being blended together. Residence hall happiness is not a day-by-day fun and games type happiness, but the happiness that comes from being able to live some days with a group of people and others totally apart from them. It's the type of happiness that develops when people begin to understand and respect the needs and privileges of other people, the kind of happiness that is essential to all societies. It's the kind of happiness that everyone will hopefully find, regardless of where he lives or what he does, and it's the kind of happiness that makes life among the savages truly bearable and worthwhile.
By Bill Robinson
Objects to petition
To the Editor:
As a member of the faculty, I was asked to sign a petition requesting the Registrar's office to send no information to local draft boards except at the personal request of students. I should like to express my disapproval of the purpose of the petition.
IF IT IS decided by responsible government officials that one of the bases of a student's exemption or non-exemption from military service should be academic performance, then surely these officials have every right to expect the universities to provide information which will enable them to measure that performance. This does not make the faculty member who has given a grade "an executioner" (as the petition insists), any more than a physician who gives a physical examination becomes an executioner because he finds a man in good health and fit for military service. If one wishes to change the method of determining exemptions for military service, the proper way is through elected representatives. The request made to Mr. Hitt in this petition is a request that he should deny to responsible administrative officials information which they are obliged to request within the context of a selective service system which has the ultimate authorization of the President and the Congress.
—Herbert J. Ellison
I AM FULLY sympathetic with those who face the agony and uncertainty about the possibility of being drafted into military service, especially if they are doubtful about the value of the war in which they are called to fight. However, as a citizen of a constitutional democracy, I resent appeals for petty anarchistic acts which seek to pit citizens against the authority of their elected representatives rather than use orderly channels of policy change. I think the UDK would do the faculty a favor to indicate clearly that this petition has received a tiny minority of faculty signatures.
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY kansan
For 16 Years, KU's Official Student Newspaper
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The Daily Kansan, student newspaper at the University of Kansas, is represented by National Advertising Service, 18 East St. 50L, New York, NY 10022. Students receive free postage paid at Lawrence, Kan., every afternoon during the University year except Saturdays and Sundays. University holidays and examination periods. Accommodations, goods, services and employment advertised in the University Kansan are offered to all students without regard to color, creed or religion.
The opinions expressed in the editorial column are those of the students whose names are signed to them. Guest editorial views are not necessarily the editor's. Any opinions expressed in the Daily Kansan are not necessarily those of The University of Kansas Administration or the State Board of Regents.