Kansas State University - Royal Purple Yearbook (Manhattan, KS)

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;said. Hesai( dn ' tgiveushi; lice off icerwhc udges, Piera as that was the was really no ivedtomeasl j rents about the I legal aspects. then there was ere contribi to the Southern Poverty Law Center. The towel and certificate were partly a good will gesture and partly an attempt to distinguish ourselves from competitors. Others were beginning to take up the craze and we wanted to be sure we didn ' t have to take responsibility for their work, Pierce said. Creative Promotions collected about $350 as a result of 1 5 to 20 hits. Students requesting hits were charged $15 while others paid $30 as fees were higher for cer- tain victims. One such case was the attempt to zap Governor Robert Bennett. Bennett was participating as a speaker at Spring Fling 75 activities and arrangements were made to hit him at the bed races. However, the mission was thwarted by two K-State students who knocked the pie to the ground. Hired hit-man Bruce Moore was lectured by the stu- dents on the merits of preserving the image of K-State. Pierce said he believed the governor would have reacted good-naturedly. Sessions of Student Senate were disrupted by several pie-wielding incidents. Among those zapped were student senators Amy Button, Chris Badger and Pierce. I thought it was funny, Gerald Polich, assistant professor of music and another of Pierce ' s targets, said. Polich, who displays his certificate in his office, said he grew suspicious when several music students crowded around his door as he was about to begin a class. He also thought it strange when Pierce approached him with one hand behind his back. He was able to block Pierce ' s throw and the pie fell. I hit him with it, Polich said. Pierce still managed to get pie on Polich ' s clothing. Making arrangements for zaps sometimes resembled contacts between spies. One woman met Pierce dressed in sunglasses and trench coat, including the turned-up collar. Another thought he was to identify himself by removing one shoe. Pierce was unaware of this code, however, and the man stood in a public area for several minutes with his shoe in hand. Creative Promotions had made no hits since the 1 975 spring semester, but remained open to requests. As to future escapades? We ' re just going to wait until the next fad comes along and possibly follow up on it, Pierce said. pie throwing 25

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K-State has never been a trend-setter. And if one would care to expound on the subject K-State has never really been a trend-follower. The fact that streaking caught on in 1974 brought a blush of surprise to everyone ' s cheeks. But the following year ' s appearance of flying pies on campus took the cake. K-State had managed to catch on two years run- ning. As for future fool-hardy collegiate, fads well, America, K-State ' s eyes ' are finally open and upon you. , Cream pies soar, plastering ' paid for ' targets by Doug Fink Except for an unusually high attendance, the class appeared normal in all respects. The professor arranged his notes and the students waited for the lec- ture to begin. One student rose and approached the professor. Dr. Williams, my name is Jeff Pierce and this is for you. Moments later Pierce, senior in philosophy, was flee- ing as Dudley Williams, regents professor in physics, stood blinded his face plastered with pie. Creative Promotions had struck again, in reaction to a challenge by Ed Klimek, KMKF-FM coordinator, to bring the nationwide pie-throwing fad to K-State. We didn ' t think it would go at K-State, Pierce said, but it went over real big. The phone rang all hours of the night. Ironically, the first victim of the enterprise was Kli- mek, himself. Upon concluding an interview with Mike Rice, co-originator of Creative Promotions, concerning the pie-tossing craze, Pierce zapped Klimek. The KMKF broadcast of the interview brought many phone calls and a variety of requests. One wanted us to get a judge, Rice said. He said the judge had arrested him but he wouldn ' t give us his (own) name. Another caller asked them to hit a police officer who had arrested the caller. For a while we shied away from grudges, Pierce said. Later we decided to take them, as that was the purpose of the fad elsewhere. There was really no adverse reaction except for one. The adverse reaction was elicited from Michael Hoff- man, assistant professor of chemistry. Hoffman retali- ated by tossing a cup of coffee on Pierce. Dr. Williams took it real well. He waved to me as I ran off and later he was full of compliments about the company. We did have to worry about the legal aspects, Pierce said. First there was the pie fad, then there was a fad to sue the pie-throwers. Creative Promotions helped avoid animosity by pro- viding each victim with a towel and certificate. In addi- tion, about 85 per cent of the profits were contributed : : 24 pie throwing

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f 0), Records are made to be broken. And there ' s always someone who is willing to take on the challenge. Though not quite as bizarre as the older versions of goldfish swallowing or flagpole sitting, the more modern marathon stunts are just as mentally and physically gruel- ing. K-Staters were involved in several attempts at record-breaking and will probably go on and on. Record breakers collapse and heroes remain unsung by Greg Doyle Just a few more hours and it will all be over. Heart how you doing? Beating a little fast, I see. Stomach sure you ' re hungry, but you ' ve gone without food for a lot longer than this. Legs a little more Ben Gay will soothe the ache. Back don ' t tense up now. Eyelids don ' t close yet. Not yet ... but they ' re so heavy ... so ... heavy . . . And just before they shut tight and the owner ' s body melts into a Sealy mattress for a day and a half of peaceful slumber, the ordeal is completed. Somebody switches off the broadcasting console, and the turnta- ble stops. The Isley Brothers ' Fight the Power fades off and the exhausted dancers rest their aching mem- bers. The last lap is swum, the last card trumped. The long haul is over. 1975 could rightly earn the reputation of being a marathon year Guineas Book of World Records got its share of business from K-State prestige-seekers who tried everything from a 1 00-hour continuous radio broadcast to bump-dancing for two and a half days at Mother ' s Worry Tavern in Aggieville. As a result, thousands of dollars were raised for charity. Long hours were not wasted, despite jeers of disbelief from those who cried, You ' re crazy! or You ' re going to kill yourself! The finish line was too important. Lasting was too vital. Steve Physioc, junior in radio and tv, and Gevin Kidd, sophomore in radio and television, proved they could do the seemingly impossible by staying on the air for 1 00 hours on KSDB-FM. From 9 am Thursday, April 1 7, to 1 pm Monday, April 21 , the duo volleyed between the penthouse of Far- rell Library and the main corridor in the Union playing popular music, joking with listeners, and each other over the air, and yawning a lot. During the broadcast, only 60 seconds was lost to dead air, when Kidd ' s eyelids just wouldn ' t stay up. With coffee on hand, and the pair needling each other to stay awake, the hundredth hour finally came, and the crowd in the Union cheered as the pair pointed to each other, proud of the triumph. The duo broadcast to raise money for the newly-cre- ated James A. McCain Commemorative Scholarship Fund. Working in conjunction were Alpha Phi Omega, Chimes, and Spurs which took pledges. In the back of their minds, though, Physioc and Kidd had another purpose for the marathon radio show, and that was to break the supposed world record of 99 hours, 33 minutes. The pair managed to break that record, but they missed getting their names in Guiness by 63 hours, 45 minutes. The McCain Scholarship Fund got off to a good start, but the two disappointed K-Staters went down to defeat in their quest for world fame. Marathons became the craze, though, and through- 26 marathons