The light that failed
KU is presumably one of the more modern state universities in the country.
We have a nuclear reactor center, Kansas Reserach for Engineering Studies, an excellent theatre department and that marvel of architectural ingenuity, New Fraser, just to mention a few of the many scientific and cultural benefits which this school has to offer those thousands who venture each year to noble Mount Oread to quench their overwhelming thirst for knowledge.
ONE WOULD ASSUME that with all these marvels, indicative of the rapidly-advancing society in which we live, the powers that be could pay some slight attention to a rather rudimentary aspect of science—electricity.
We, the humble representatives of the student body at Harvard on the Kaw, realize full well the Administration and that eminent figure in the field of custedial engineering. Mr. Harry Buchholz, have other matters with which to occupy their time, but we feel that some consideration should be given to a topic of great concern—the welfare of the student.
Perhaps the general idea is to give certain sections of the campus that dark, mysterious aura; we must agree, on some foggy nights, the campus does resemble that Parisian street of infamy—the Rue Morgue.
HAPPILY, THERE ARE few such horrible incidents taking place on the back steps from Malott to Flint or Hoch or wherever, cr, at any rate, few such incidents we hear about.
Yet it can only be a testimony to the upright characters of most males on campus (or to the big purses carried by KU women) that such headline as "Lawrence Strangler Strikes Again" are not appearing on the front pages of local newspapers.
Rather than worry about broken collarbones, sprained ankles and the like, which might result from a fall down poorly-lighted stairs, our philosophers down in the School of Janitorial Sciences are concerned with another portion of the human anatomy—the eyes.
We must remember that the interests of the students are uppermost in the minds of those stalwart men who have the key to the light bulb closet on a chain around their necks.
THEY REMEMBER the days of school lunches and carrot sticks, and how many times those carrot sticks ended up in the wastebasket; and they remember their mothers warning them that if they didn't eat the carrots, they wouldn't have good night vision.
Therefore, kiddies, the B and G boys are just telling you in their own inimitable way that it's time to start eating those carrots.
One final thought—we are not asking for the munificent sum which it would doubtless take to install new street lamps—all we want to know is: Is there anyone out there who has the technical skill required to screw in 100 or so light bulbs?
Barbara Phillips
The Hill With It by john hill
The rising sun slowly crept above the gray prison walls, shining weakly through the early morning mists.
"Manuel. For the last time, Please let me send for a priest." said the guard.
THE PRISONER STARED through the bars at the crumbling center of the execution wall, and said nothing.
"If only you could have just . . . "
His feeble words were cut short by the sudden, defiant look the prisoner gave him.
"Well, perhaps you know what is best . . ." said the guard, and started to walk away from the drab-colored cell. He stopped, noticing the small ray of sunlight coming between the bars.
"IT'S ALMOST DAWN . . ." he said apol-
getically, and then left.
Manuel's attention was caught by the rifles carried by the soldiers who were now marching across the courtyard, toward his cell.
He heard the clanking of cell doors being opened behind him, and the sound of marching boots coming to a halt at his cell door.
"IT'S TIME."
Manuel recognized the voice of the Lieutenant, and he slowly turned from the cell window to face the soldiers.
He took a last puff of his cigarette, dropped it on the cell floor and crushed it, then looked at the men, and at their rifles.
"All right," he said, and fell in step with the soldiers as they marched out to the courtyard.
"DID YOU GET the brandy last night?" quietly asked the Lieutenant, who marched beside him. The two men had once been very close companions.
The soldiers formed a line as the Lieutenant escorted Manuel to the execution wall and began to tie his hands behind his back.
"Yes. Thank you, my friend," said Manuel, as they reached the open courtyard of the prison.
THE MAGISTRATE, on a small platform
behind the soldiers, cleared his throat noisily and began to read from an official paper.
"Manuel Labor. You are hereby charged with net Acknowledging and Enjoying the Arrival of Spring. During the time when Spring officially came on March 21, you have made no effort to lounge around Potter Lake, stroll aimlessly on campus, sit on the rails and watch the girls, prepare for sunbathing, wear shorts to class, wear sunglasses in class—"
The steady voice of the red-faced Magistrate droned on as the charges continued, but Manuel was listening to the Lieutenant as he tied the prisoner's hands behind his back.
"Couldn't you have at least put the top down on your car and driven on campus a few times," asked his friend sadly, and finished tying his hands.
MANUEL LOOKED at him and just shrugged, as the Magistrate continued in pom-pous tones.
"—nor did you make any indications that you were planning to try and study outdoors, throw water balloons, cut class, or outwardly display any sign of Spring Fever in any manner whatsoever. Sentence will now be carried out."
The Lieutenant lit a cigarette and placed it between Manuel's lips.
Correction—
"Do you want a blindfold?" asked the Lieutenant, and the prisoner shook his head.
"Does the prisoner have any last words?"
believed the Magistrate.
MANUEL SLOWLY LOOKED at the line of soldiers before him, their polished rifles gleaming in the sunlight of the early spring morning.
"Get on with it," he said simply.
The Lieutenant walked beside the rifle and slowly raised his sword into the air, and the soldiers snapped their rifles to their shoulders, taking aim . . .
The rising sun slowly crept above the g-ay prison walls, shining weakly through the early morning mists.
Much to the amazement of UDK critic Scott Nunley, his hyline appeared over a review of the University Theatre production "Marat Sade" in Tuesday's Daily Kansan. However, Critic Nunley assures us that he did not write the review—and much to the chagrin of the Editorial Editors, he is right. The review was written by another UDK critic, Gary Mitchell. Our apologies to both writers.
2
Daily Kansan
editorial page
Thursday, March 23, 1967
LITTLE MAN ON CAMPUS
"WATCH IT, MAC!"
NEW BOOKS
THE SHORTER NOVELS OF HERMAN MELVILLE, edited by Raymond Weaver (Premier, 60 cents)—As part of the great Melville push a collection previously available in other editions. The works included here are "Benito Cereno," "Bartleby the Scrivener," "The Encantadas, or Enchanted Isles," and "Billy Budd, Foretopman." The south seas, a dismal city street, a British naval vessel are the settings of these works.
\* \* \* \*
WHEN THE LION FEEDS, by Wilbur A. Smith (Crest, 75 cents)—Summer is ahead, and so comes reading designed for summer. This one is set in the African veldt, and it's pure adventure, about a man named Sean Courtenay, and big-game hunting, and woman-hunting, and fortune-hunting. Can't you just see this one with Robert Mitchum?
$$
$$
RUSH TO JUDGMENT, by Mark Lane (Crest, 75 cents)—This one is probably worth more than brief mention, but is there anything we haven't heard about it? Mark Lane has made himself mighty famous as one of the fellows who have indicted the Warren Commission for what they consider superficial and incomplete handling of the Kennedy assassination. This is much more reliable than "Who Killed Kennedy?" If you're up to another postmortem on the horrible affair this is your book.
- * *
ICE STATION ZEBRA, by Alistair MacLean (Crest. 60 cents)—A new edition of a wildly exciting story set in the far north. Pure adventure, but adventure keyed to an age of nuclear submarines and espionage. A British meteorological team is trapped on a polar ice cap, and the men of the Dolphin have to go in to make the rescue.
Serving KU for 77 of its 101 Years
KANSAN TELEPHONE NUMBERS
Newsroom—UN 4-3646 Business Office—UN 4-3198
The Daily Kansan, student newspaper at the University of Kansas, is represented by National Advertising Service. 18 East 50th St. Published and second class superintendent paid at Lawrence, Kan., every afternoon during the University year except Saturday and Sundays. University holidays and examination accommodations, goods, services and employment advertised in the University are offered to all students without regard to color, creed or national origin.
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.
EXECUTIVE STAFF
Managing Editor ... Joan McCarthy
Business Manager ... Tom Chop
Editorial Editors ... Dan Austin, Barb Phillips
NEWS AND BUSINESS STAFF
Assistant Managing Editors
Emery Goad, Steve Russell
Linda Sluff, Robert Stevens
City Editor ... Will Hardesty
Wire Editor ... Betsy Wright
Sports Editor ... Mike Walker
Education Editor ... Jacki Campbill
Photo Editor ... Pres Doudna
Asst. City Editor ... Carol D.Bonis
Executive Reporters: Eric Morgenthaler, Judy Faust, Harrington
FACULTY ADVISERS: Business; Prof. Mel Adams; News; Malcolm Applegate; Editorial; Prof. Calder-Pickett