AKL fraternity mascot
Big ball of fuzz named 'Hombre
Copyright 1969,
The University Daily Kansan
By RICK PENDERGRASS
Kansan Staff Writer
When he first came to the house, he looked like a big ball of off-white fuzz hovering unsteadily above four huge cane paws.
That's when he was four months old—a mere puppy, but he looked as big as a wolf.
He made his debut into campus life quietly, almost secretly, though all the guys had been waiting for his arrival.
At first he was a shy, almost frightened dog. Taken from his small kennel here he knew only three people and the other dogs, he was suddenly the mascot of the 82-man Alpha Kappa Lambda (AKL) fraternity. That's enough to scare any sane creature.
One in every crowd
Everyone was overjoyed with this new member. Almost everyone, that is. There is always at least one dog hater in every crowd. But that was no serious problem, because the few who didn't like the dog just ignored him.
For the most part, he was well received and he got over his initial fear in a short time.
For the first few days all was well. The dog had adjusted to members, and the members had adjusted to the dog.
Then the first problem arose. Until that time, he was known as the dog, mutt, beast and "here you." That just wouldn't do—he had to have a name.
But what do you name a 65-pound white German shepherd? Any name wouldn't do. This was a fraternity house, and the name had to be "cool."
18 KANSAN Apr. 16 1969
Name-calling
Thus began a long series of name-calling. Everyone had his own name for the dog-from Leif Ericson to Verne, somebody's cousin.
After a while, the list of names shrank to two-Ajax (for the White Knight on TV) and Hombre. The problem still was not resolved, however. Half the members were calling him one name, and half were calling him the other.
The situation was getting out of hand and the dog was becoming neurotic. The house was split into two factions. Revolution was in the offing.
Finally, the issue forced an emergency meeting of the members to vote on which name the dog would have.
'Hombre' won
Bitter debate ensued, the members thrashing out the pros and cons. Then they voted. By a narrow margin, "Hombre" won out.
After a few weeks, Hombre began to associate mainly with two members. He had a doghouse outside, but he insisted on sleeping in one of the member's room, under the desk, or in the overstuffed chair.
Within a month, he had established these two places as his private domain, and it took some coaxing to evict him.
That was the second problem. Not so much that he was in the way—the three members in the room didn't mind him there since he was always quiet.
'Doggie nerdles'
The problem was the "doggie nerdles," the name given to the white hairs he shed, the bits of leather from the shoes he munched on and the slivers of metal from the pop cans he chewed up.
Doggie  nerdles  were
everywhere—on the floor, on peoples' clothing and in people's hair. As a matter of fact, some bits of positively identified Hombre doggie nerdles were discovered as far away as Monroe, Louisiana.
Several members are of the opinion that when the earth is gone, doggie nerdles will live on forever.
Hombre was a unique dog, as most dogs are. He had a definite air of diplomacy about him. He learned quickly to persuade the sandwich man who came every night to donate a ham-on-rye to the cause.
The members finally learned to live with that problem. It was really a small price to pay for the privilege of knowing Hombre.
In time, he learned to quietly but respectfully ignore those who preferred he weren't there, and to enthusiastically but gently show his appreciation for those who would play with him.
Hombre was a born athlete. As a shortstop, he was magnificent; as a football player, he would have made a great defensive end.
Born athlete
His real calling, though, was basketball. On a nice day, one could see him out-rebounding some of the best players in the house. He would stick with the ball wherever it went. His only problem was shooting. The only shots he was good at were the rebound shots.
Winter came and Hombre began to put on weight. Without basketball, he got out of condition. To solve this problem, he played a game called, "run-up-and-down-the-halls-sounding-like-a-horse-and-make-person-mad."
Hombre met with an unfortunate end last February, when he ran into the path of a car. Still a puppy when he died, he had had his fling.
Now the fraternity has two more
pets, a mixed-breed puppy named Snacker-Dacker ("cool" is "out"), and a black kitten named "Dammit".
Who knows? Maybe Dammit will grow up to be a pool hustler.
Campaign talks give wrong idea
By ARNOLD B. SAWISLAK
UPI Staff Correspondent
WASHINGTON (UPI) - There may be no better way to get the wrong idea about what a new President will do in office than to read his old campaign speeches.
For example, many who listened to candidate Richard M. Nixon last fall got the idea that he was against the war on poverty programs originated during the Johnson years.
Except for the preschool Head Start program, which Nixon said was a Republican idea in the first place, the GOP candidate appeared to be talking about a new approach to helping the poor.
The Nixon-Agnew campaign committee published a book called "Nixon on the Issues" last October. The section entitled poverty began, "The poverty programs of the past have failed, this much is clear as we look at the state of our society."
Nixon's comments were specific only on Head Start, which he called "the right way" and the Job Corps, which he said "has been a failure."
Nixon had little to say about the Office of Economic Opportunity (OEO) or its highly controversial community action programs.