KU
THE UNIVERSITY DAILY Father Tom
kansan Serving KU For 77 of its 101 Years
77th Year, No. 119
LAWRENCE, KANSAS
Friday, April 21, 1967
Schwegler is dedicated to serving KU students
By RICHARD LUNDQUIST
Providing medical attention for KU students away from home, Dr. Raymond Schwegler, director of Watkins Hospital, is dedicated to the students he serves.
A 1927 graduate of KU, Schwegler received his medical degree from the University of Minnesota in 1931. He became a staff member of Watkins in 1958 and director of the hospital in 1965.
"This hospital is literally owned and financed by the student," Schweegler says. "The thing that I keep injecting to the personnel over and over is that the hospital is here for the student.
When one talks to Dr. Schwegler, the subject of Watkins Hospital will usually enter the conversation. In a sense the two are inseparable. When Schwegler speaks about himself, he speaks about the hospital.
WITH SPARSE graying hair that gives him a touch of dignity and an erect posture that belies his 60 years of age, Dr. Schwegler leans forward in his chair to talk about his work.
"Our mission is to put people back on their feet as soon as possible and back into the academic world."
Schwegler's involvement with the academic community goes beyond being a doctor. He constantly has students coming to him for books and research material and often is called on to lecture.
BECAUSE OF THE intellectual environment, it is stimulating to work at KU, Schwegler says. "This is why most of the people work here They could be making more money elsewhere.
"I have always liked young people. They profoundly amuse and stimulate me."
Schwegler pointed out that the hospital will even go to court for the student. In a recent case, the hospital testified for an injured student involved in a law suit.
The hospital is often required to vouch for students, Schwegler says. "We will go to bat for the student if for health reasons he is unable to attend class.
"I AM WILLING to sit down and talk with patients about such things as abortions, and the use of contraceptives," says Schwegler. "This is within our scope."
"Emotional involvement with a patient is inevitable," he says. "I don't know one doctor worth his salt who does not get emotionally involved with his patients."
In doing this he emphasizes that he tries to present the patient with facts from both sides and then lets him decide which is best.
In listening to staff doctors talk at lunch, Schwegler says they seem to have as much concern about their patients as their own children.
He says there is nothing wrong with getting emotionally involved with patients as long as it does not reach the point where it hinders the patient's progress.
He says that he was most influenced by a series of high school chemistry teachers and college professors. One of these was Arthur Davidson, retired KU professor of chemistry.
TO SCHWEGLER, the personal touch is important. Suffering a bit from nostalgia, he likes to talk about the people who influenced him in his school days.
Priest involved
"I can remember Dr. Davidson taking me aside and guiding me through the first courses in chemistry with that personal touch of a knowledgeable man that can mold a student."
By JOHN GANGI
Students fondly call him Father Tom.
The Rev. Thomas Woodward, an intelligent and dignified looking man, is the KU Episcopalian chaplain.
He appears to meditate on his thoughts as his penetrating dark eyes peer through sternly fixed round-rimmed glasses. He speaks congenially and smiles understandingly.
WHEN SPEAKING to him you get the impression you are merely speaking to another student. He's alive and up to date on campus activities.
Father Tom listens attentively, and when he speaks he does not preach. Although he always wears his collar he reserves his preaching for his pulpit.
Married and the father of one child, he was graduated from Harvard University with honors and General Seminary in New York City. This is his fifth year at KU where he is working toward his Masters degree while attending to his priestly duties.
In the basement of the Canterbury house, 1116 Louisiana St. for which Father Tom is caretaker, there is a student night spot called the Fiery Furnace.
WAX-CAKED CANDLES dimly light the basement coffee house where Father Tom can frequently be found on weekend nights.
Lawrence's own coffee house offers entertainment comparable to most in New York and prices students can't grumble about.
For 15 cents a customer can drink as much coffee and eat many rolls as he likes.
Customers can provide their own entertainment by means of open discussion, or more likely there will be some folk singing or a poetry reading. The coffee house was once the stage for a play reading.
FATHER TOM SAID. "The Firey Furnace exists as a center for concerned people to express their concern in an atmosphere of freedom and acceptance."
He said, "We did not think this atmosphere existed at any other place on campus." The other student hangouts were either too noisy or sterile, he said.
Out of necessity Rev. Woodward is constantly in contact with the students. He partook in the civil rights sit-in at Strong Hall two years ago, led a workshop for the Student Peace Forum, and now finds himself in sympathy with pacifist students.
He said, "A good deal of the rest of my ministry is being where students are concerned with ideas and attempting to support them there."
"ALSO," HE SAID, "to be a part of the church listening to the world."
Father Tom said he likes the students. He listens to them and tries to communicate.
"I like it at this University," he said. "Life is quite a bit freer than in the East, and with a little bit more sense of dignity."
KU junior travels Canada's waters
By NED VALENTINE
A sparkling blue trail streaked from behind the canoe as it cut through the dark waters of the Quetico wilderness under a golden Canadian moon.
Only an occasional black bear or white-tail deer watched curiously as the long, primitively shaped water craft slipped by a slumbering wildwood.
But this was no leisurely pre-dawn jaunt.
TOM MILLER HAD SPENT weeks exploring the great maze of lakes and rivers that are the only highways in this vast timberland. Until now, he had taken his time with the 15-boy canoe crew, exploring and probing deep into the pine and birch jungle.
Until now he had had nothing to do but kill time, nine days or so, and soak in the majestic splendor of the wilderness. Now there was direction to his route and deadly urgency in the way he and a fellow guide forced their canoe against the wind.
Lying in the canoe a young explorer scout gritted his teeth as his abdomen, saturated with poison, burned from a ruptured appendix.
THE BOY HAD BEEN in pain since the night before but, fearing he would spoil the trip for his comrades, failed to mention it to Miller until it had become too intense. Now, as they pushed rapidly through lake after lake, they could only hope that it wasn't appendicitis.
Seven hours ago they had left the crew behind to rush him to the nearest point of civilization which was now another three hours away.
There had been many "dry runs" on these guided tours. There were instances when many difficult miles were covered in break-record time in order to rush a suffering body to a hospital to relieve what turned out to be a case of indigestion.
Miller did not have the luxury of knowing if this was the real thing or not.
Each muscle seemed to shriek in painful protest as Miller forced the paddle into the water again and again.
"YOU NEVER KNOW if you are wasting your time or in an extra half hour you may save his life." Neither were aware than gangrene had developed.
By mid-morning after 25 miles, a distance usually covered in a full day with the aid of a tail wind, the three arrived at the Charles L. Sommers canoe base. Ten hours after the pain had become too intense to tolerate, the scout walked slowly, painfully, toward a truck and was rushed to the hospital.
During the winter, Tom Miller is a junior in the Business School at KU.
In the summer he is one of a rugged band of adventure-loving wilderness canoe guides who escort small crews of explorer scouts over the crystal highways of the vast Quetico timberland.
The trips are designed to teach scouts the principles of canoeing and camping. And, of course, after their journey, they always leave a small part of their childhood behind, deep in nature's wonderful and rugged training ground.
THE GUIDED TOURS usually take nine days and each is an adventure the boys are never likely to forget.
Miller works for the Charles L. Sommers canoe base. the largest canoe outfitters in the world, located near Ely. Minn. and the Canadian border.
"Charlie's boys," as they call themselves, after yielding to the society-free influences of the wilderness, outwardly cannot be distinguished from members of the executive council of Hell's Angels.
SHAVES AND HAIRCUTS are regarded as an unnecessary evil and so forgotten.
On the trail, Miller serves as an instructor in wilderness living, a supervisor of activities, and sometimes a psychiatrist specializing in homesickness and other dread mental diseases of losing oneself miles from nowhere.
"The only thing I don't let them do entirely on their own is cook," Miller said, "Because their chow is my chow."
THE WORST CAMP PESTS are chipmunks and squirrels who inevitably find their way into the food packs. The only danger to canned food are the bears whose powerful jaws serve as messy but effective can openers.
Miller and his crews rarely have problems with the animals which are plentiful in this region. There is a variety of wildlife reaching from chipmunks through moose to huge black bears.
The only bear problem he has encountered was solved with a can of bug spray. An unsuspecting bear, rummaging through a food pack and expecting perhaps canned bacon or corn beef, chomped into a full can of "Bug Bomb" insect repellent.
Besides the rare experiences and fireside stories there is a deeper explanation for Miller's love of the outdoor life.
"In the wilderness I feel primitive sensations and satisfactions which give me an insight into the meaning of my life," he said. "I experience an intimate existence with nature that impresses me with a sense of awe and reverence toward the universe."
Miller will yield to this mysterious attraction again this summer.
Why?
Whatever it is, once one responds to the urge to be close to nature and has felt the closeness of God in his unaltered kingdom, he cannot rest until he returns.