University of Texas Austin - Cactus Yearbook (Austin, TX)

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gphe cact j,g lazS SL ssMs-- h If I jr- FLASH-BACKS Alumiii Notes (or the benefit of the l lil Sliidciils Iiicl lames has left the good position whiih Prof. Thompson secured for him in rralvcston, and has returned to Austin as a bond salesman in order to be near (irace Rogers. Swede Swcnson never misses an opportnnit - to dash back to the campus on any excuse whatsoever, always drag- ging his satellite, Bob Payne, along with him. Their business, besides coming to Austin, is to sit around on the curl) in Dallas and discuss the market. Punk Stacy is often seen about the campus. We don ' t know where he conies from, but he always picks out some mere child like Annette Bellows to honor with a date. At his age he should have several children of his own. Joe Moore is now in Houston, wearing brogue shoes, a blue shirt, and speaking at labor meetings. He is a mem- ber of the Eagles and knows every bootlegger and carpenter in town. His practice is enormous. Sot Cecil, after leaving the law school by request, has joined the V. M. C. A. in Houston, and gives outward appearances of having reformed. Charlie White who is now connected with an engraving company, makes numerous calls on the managing editor of the Cactus to force a little whis. down him. He wants to keep that contract sewed up. Josephine Hodgson is almost as consistent a visitor as Swede. She is fond of gi •ing superior glances at the youngsters she sees around, being ever mindful of the fact that she made the beauty page last year. Did you notice that none of the pictures submitted showed her profile? Tonnage Adams of Fort Worth has called on the Kappas and Betas a few times this year. Every once in a while, she confided to us, she feels just like dancing, so she comes down to Austin and makes Shorty Mayer take her to a German. Dick Burns, who says he is now an attorney in Houston, has run in on us several times this year, and has found to his sorrow that others of the athletic crowd have disturbed the position which he held with the little Matthews girl while she was still in high school. Every week is home-coming week for Ric Bass. He saves very litt ' e more than the $75.00 a month it costs him to come home to Stella every week. Bobby Robertson, brilliant mind, theosophy, and all, have gone out to manage a farm so he and Mittle will have a nice little place where they can settle down some day. Once popular was Miss Ona .A.stin, of Bryan, but the changing years have changed circumstances, and she now hangs on to the fringe of varsity social life by her teeth. Little Tut Vera, long married, came down rush week and allowed herself to be rushed Pi Phi by the asinine Dutch John, who informed her that the sorority rating on the campus was Pi Phi, Kappa, Theta, Chi Omega, and Zeta. Charlie Willis, once, in his own estimation, a prominent Phi Delta Theta, after working four years for a B. A. degree is still honking a horn in a third-rate orchestra. The old grind favorite, Bess Gilbert, has at last hung onto something in the nature of a husband, little Kempie, and has (Thank God!) moved far into the north of the state. Pete Fulcher, who hung around the law school at the Government ' s expense for a couple of years, was finally amputated from his gravy train, and after failing to pass bar exams, is now back on the farm at Granger, following a mule around. Once the fastest rusher of the fair sex on the campus (so he admits) and the entertainer of all the visiting belles, Jack Chiles now flits about secretively in his little Dodge and bothers the campus no more. We wish to congratulate Tex alle on his perseverance in attempting to foist another Blunderbuss on the student body, what with four Sigma Chis sitting in front of his house, bound by oath not to leave until they had beaten him up again. C. R. Smith, the most erratic dancer (if you can call it dancing) that the University has ever produced, is now working in Dallas. Page 391

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AND PASSING TO THIS CAGE WE HAVE— MOULTON ( TV ) COBB. Pish! Tush! and Fudge! This young squirrel rode into the office of Editor of the Daily Texan on the demerits of his opponent and not on his own merits. Once established in his position he has given us the most puerile milk and water daily that has ever disgraced this supposed institution of learning. Goody! Goody! Ain ' t our school good! We ' ve got the best this, and the biggest that of anyone. In the whole year the paper has been nothing but a reflection of the desires of the powers that be, written in the most childishly simple style imaginable. Not once has the paper taken a strong stand on anything, not once has the erstwhile Mr. Cobb showed a backbone of anything more substantial than jelly. If he ever had an original thought it was probably so cretenish that he was ashamed to publish it. It is noteworthy that he has one of his girl friends, Dorothy Fisher, on the payroll of the Te.xan at S15.00 per month as a feature writer. We haven ' t seen any of her features yet. Another thing, if you enjoy a good, rich joke each morning before breakfast, just read one of the Professor Cobb ' s editorials on anything. GEORGE O ' BRIEN JOHN. You are already familiar with the twenty-inch trousers, roll-collars, fleur-de-lis tie and the cautious carelessness of manner. Slick isn ' t the word for this fellow — he has boiled okra looking like a corrugated roof. An oyster is the only thing that would raiseits voice around HIM. Wild oats is his favorite dish. Now, you girls step lightly there, for the great Dutch might become ofTended, and if so, you will be promptly relegated to your proper place. He is a pugilist of no mean ability, and has been known to knock 11 2-pound girls completely out. He rode into school on the backs of boys who were then his friends, and now he thinks he is strong enough to stand alone, but let us say here that not even the half-pint of liquor that he is able to consume at one time will ever give him that strength. M. ' TT NEWELL. This fellow has become a Pariah in our midst — Judas Iscariot reincarnate; purveyor of evil to the powers above; arch-angel and high priest to Miss Newton and Dean Hubbard; protector of our morals, of the good name of our school. Esau sold his soul for a mess of pottage, and this fellow sold his right to our respect by taking the place of official snitcher on his fellow-students at the Germans. Honest, noble, fine, deser -ing old Matt! How fond we are of you! (By the way, did you ever see him miss the slightest opportunity to wear his big T sweater? He and Stooky Allen presented an interesting contrast at the Relay games. Remember how hot it was? Well, Matt had on his big T sweater as usual, while Stooky stood by in an open white shirt trying to keep cool. And did you notice that every time Stooky pulled a trick that got over with the crowd. Matt would immediately ape it?) Another thing, he is as modest as a wood violet, and shrinks always from the public gaze, and is as shy and virtuous as the veriest lily. Yes, indeed he is, LIKE HELL! BLAKE JOHNSON. This gentleman is admittedly (he himself says so) the greatest orator the South has ever produced, and is in great demand by the Kiwanis, Rotary Clubs, Ku Klux, etc., to inspire them with his supernal elo- quence. He has appointed himself as cleaner-up of the morals of the State Bar Association, this self-righteous gentle- man who still wears long underwear. Another Sunday, another Moody, another Bryan is soon to be graduated from our halls of learning to harangue the public, and lash the dumb and ignorant into docility with the fervor of his words. He never misses an opportunity in his speeches to laud honesty, uprightness, and Christian living, and to anathematize dishonesty, knavery and ungodliness. The reason is obvious: He is to practice law in this state (it he can ever pass enough work), and the ignorant and uninformed flock eagerly and unsuspectingly to the man who praises virtue with a loud voice. Somehow we can ' t forget the words of our friend Dr. Wolfe, I always suspect a man who is an orator! Page 3go

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» CGhe CigijCtw t025l)g 3Z S CAMPUS TYPES The Politician T he politician is the man who always happens to remember you about the time of the spring elections. He walks up and suavely says to you: Well, old man, I haven ' t seen you for quite awhile, where do you keep your- self? Mustn ' t stick too close to those books (ha,hal). Then he gets con- fidential, takes your hand in his, places the other on your shoulder and pro- ceeds to mention very seriously and with great impressiveness — By the way, old fellow, a number of my friends want me to run for office, and I ' m count- ing on you to support me for all you ' re worth. I ' m not seeking this for my- self, but since my friends are anxious I should have it, I ' m making the run to please them. Others of this type are: Edwin Taegel and Carl Webb. The Athlete He is the man who is brought into the living room of the fraternity house during rush week to ?how off his big T and crushingly greet the rushees. At other times he is kept in the attic studying Culture and Self-Improvement, Clothes and How to Wear Them — during his first two years. By this time he has been sufficiently trained so that he doesn ' t break the furniture when he sits down, bend the knives and forks or wear his hat at the table. He doesn ' t know anything about Complexes, Intellectual Emancipation, or the Decameron, and he doesn ' t give a damn. Because of his ability to throw things around, including the first person singular of the personal pronoun, he is always sure to Get By. This last brings forth from us the presentation of another of this type — Stewart Wright, who is so aptly nicknamed Stud. The Actor Among the actors about the place we have, in addition to the appendage at the left, Mr. Charles E. Ward, the E standing for etiquette. Although he has never been on any stage, Mr. Ward ' s ever ' gesture is worthy a Barrymore. The actor is the man who can turn a simple remark about the weather into a dramatic incident of touching nature and far-reaching consequences. He is invariably seen on the campus deep in thought, his lips moving slightly, while he chuckles amusedly to himself about the nasty way Hamlet gets back at the king in the fifth act. Upon a chance encounter, he greets you thus: What ho, Horatio? Aha, the guard! Whither away, fair young sir, on this sprightly morn dost trip so lightly? Methinks there lurks an air of mischief in those glistening eyes. What — wouldst be on thy way to the Library? Tarry a bit and I will even join you. Page 302