West Virginia University - Monticola Yearbook (Morgantown, WV)

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((T FLL MAKE YOU PROUD My boy don ' t wanna go to no college! No sir, he ' s a ' goin to that trade school an ' lam how to he a good mechanic! Yup, thet ' s what this world needs more of! We don ' t need no astrenots or fast-talkin eggheads! Walter Alvin McCoy beamed as he pounded his son on the back and bellowed, Yea sir, this boy here ain ' t no fool; he ain ' t gonna go to them colleges and grow no beard; he ain ' t gonna burn no draft cards. Ere ye, Oakie? No Sam, he ain ' t gonna be no long- haired wierdo! Sam, the grocer, nodded and said, Thet ' s fine, Oakie. You ' re a fine boy . . . always said them McCoys was fine boys. Oakie Just smiled. He was a thin, weak-looking boy and not very tall. He had big feet. His feet and his cabbage-leaf ears were the most outstanding things about him. Oakie ' s hair was red- dish-brown and it seemed as though he had had that cowlick from the day he was born. He wore a pair of brown-rimmed glasses that seemed too large for his thin face. Gotta head on home now, Sam. Me and Oakie gonna be late for supper, said Walter Alvin as he picked up the bag of groceries in his huge arms. He rested the bag on his pot belly and opened a pouch of tobacco with his other hand, pinched a wad and shoved it into his fat, sun- burned cheek. Oakie opened the door for his father and put on his new, tan cowboy hat. It sat on his head like a thimble; the brim came to a point in the front and the hat made his ears look like wings. See ya fellas! yelled Sam. Bye , whispered Oakie. Oakie and his father, Walter Alvin got into their old, blue pick-up truck. On the way home, Walter laughed and joked with his son. Yea, Oakie, we ' ll show ' urn. We ' ll show this town just how smart us McCoys is. Yea, ' spe- cially that Uncle Paul o ' yers. Thet brother o ' mine thinks his kid ' s so hot! Why he ain ' t nothin next to you, Oakie. No, Frankie never was a smart kid. You know he sucked his thumb ' til he was five. You quit when you was three, Oakie. You was always way ahead o ' him. Yup, I ' m real proud of ya son, real proud! Walter leaned towards the door to spit out the window. Thanks, Paw. muttered Oakie. Now Paul keeps braggin on thet kid d his, how he ' s goin to college this fall and all. Well you know what I think d thet, Oakie . . . you know what I think, huh? You know, huh? Well, I think he ' s just wast in a lot d hard-earned money. College ain ' t gonna lam ya nothin important. Now a trade, if ya lam a good trade, thet ' s somethin important! Walter said forcefully as he pulled up to their red-shingled farm house. Sure, Paw . . . thet ' s somethin ' important. echoed Oakie. Saturday night Walter Alvin ' s brother Paul, Paul ' s son Frankie, and three neighbors — George, Oscar, and James Elmer came to Walter Alvin ' s house to play a game of poker. At least this was their pretense; they usually just came to drink home brew and tell stories. Oakie and his father and George sat on one side of the table; Paul and Frankie sat opposite them, and Oscar and James Elmer sat at the ends of the big wooden table in the kitchen. Well Paul, I ' m gonna trim ya up good tonight! boasted Walter Alvin as he took a big swal- low from his mug and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Then he began, Say, when ' s yer boy startin to college? He starts first d September! Yea, Martha and me ' s real proud d Frankie. Paul beamed and nudged his son. Tell ' em what yer gonna take up. Son. Paul coaxed. Oh, I ' m goin into agriculture. I ' m gonna try to learn scientific ways d farmin , learn how to raise better crops, and better cattle; I ' m hopin ' to be a first rate farmer . . . a scientific farmer. Frankie then sat back in his chair with a look of self-confidence. 14

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UNISEX ' While Unisex was the look promoted hy the New York fashion world, at IVest Virt inia University coeds blossomed forth in the Uni-form look. At least the old cliche safety in num- bers seemed the prevailing clothes philosophy. Counting the number of coeds wearing shirts with the Edwardian collar (wide and pointed) with or without a tie or scarf of some kind would have been an interesting pastime. Five of the Ten Best Dressed Coeds, as pictured in the Mountainlair showcase, sported a variation of this long pointed collar and a tie. Even though the word from Paris and Italy was hem lines at ten inches above the knee, at the knee, below the knee, mid-calf or at the ankle, many WVU women chose only ten inches above the knee. Plump legs, skinny legs, medium sized legs with chubby knees, knobby knees and de- grees in-between were featured by the .status-conscious student. Unfortunately, a great number of those coeds perpetuating the mini-mini skirt didn ' t have the legs for it. While on the subject of legs, let us not fail to mention the regulation cover-up for briar patch legs in 1969 — the knee sock. In all colors, shapes, and forms the knee sock was the black sheep of its family. Not only were they old news fashionwise, but they were unbecoming to most legs. The WVU woman ' s uniform called for fashions with particular labels neatly stitched at the neck from just the right store. Most coeds didn ' t seem to mind paying as much as $90 for a suit or skirt outfit, only to wear it for the first time in the presence of four other girls in the same ensemble. Meeting oneself at every street corner must have given a feeling of security. Having an in pair of shoes was a source of pride, if they were of the chunkie heel variety or the popular brand name loafer. If the feet could survive the initial three month period it took to break them in, the coed could wear one pair all four years. One coed suggested that they be issued to all freshmen in campus packs. Another requirement for the WVU in look was long straight hair. It could have been worn tied back with a scarf, ribbon, or clip, or allowed to hang. If it wasn ' t grown long, it was grown frosted. With $4 for a package of a wonderful new bleaching process, the coed ' s hair could look just as bold and brassy in streaks or racing .stripes as the girl ' s next door. When the country ' s fashion leaders declared open sea.son on the you look in 1969, there was great hope for the WVU coed. Finally she had the opportunity to escape the mix and match everyday wear of the skirt, sweater, and oxford cloth blouse and a chance to step up into a new era of fashion designed with you in mind. The day had come when a woman could choose the hem length that best suited the size of her legs, a neckline that flattered her face, a waistline in the most becoming place, and a chance to express her taste in acces.sories with no great risk of being out of style. But, alas, it was not the you look that evolved at West Virginia University that year, but just another Youniform look. Diane Wolfe 13

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I ' d send Oakie, ifin ' he wanted to go. said Waller Alvin. But he don ' t need college . . . he wants to lam to he a good mechanic. Ain ' t thet right, Oakie? Sure, Paw. chirped Oakie. Then Walter Alvin began, Yea, now thet scientific farmin might be a good thing, but ya know I can ' t trust them scientific people much. You know they ' re shootin them rockets at the moon. Thet ' s just lookin fi ' r trouble. You member what happened to them people in the Bible — tnin to build thet tower to the sky, tryin to reach God. You know God ain ' t gonna let ' em land on the moon! The men all nodded in agreement. The poker game lasted until one-thirty a.m. and then the men got their jackets ami stood around the door saying goodbye to the McCoys. See ya in Chinch! shouted Paul and he slammed the door of his car. Walter Alvin and Oakie waved from the porch. As the men drove off, Walter Alvin and Oakie went back into the house. Oakie, pull up a chair. Walter said to his son as he bolted the kitchen door. Oakie was tired but he sat down, put his elbows on the table, and propped his head up with his hands. Oakie, what do ya think of Frankie goin ' to college? I mean, what do ya really think? asked Walter. It ' s O.K. I gue.ss. .said Oakie in the middle of a yawn. Well Oakie, I ' ve been thinkin ' . . . Walter spoke pensively and wrinkled his forehead. Oakie tried desperately to keep his eyes open and strained to listen to his father. Oakie, if ya really want to go to college like yer cousin, I don ' t wanna hold you back. I don ' t want ya to think thet I don ' t want you to have a edjucation. But, but ... stammered Oakie. Now, Son, you know I only want what ' s best fer ya. Us McCoys wants what ' s best fer our boys. So Fve decided to let you go to college! Walter sat back and grinned from ear to ear. We ' ll talk about it in the mornin. Let ' s hit the hay! Walter Alvin slapped his boy on the back and they walked upstairs together. Tomorrow, Son, we ' ll talk about yer future! Night. Walter turned into his room. Oakie was too tired to reply. He was tired and not as concerned as his father about his future. He would have been happy just going to the trade school and becoming a mechanic; but, if his father wanted him to go to college, he was willing to give it a try. After church the next morning, Walter Alvin announced to his brother, Paul, that Oakie had decided to go to college in the jail. He told Paul that they were making the arrangements that week and that they would see about getting Oakie accepted to the state college in Waverton. The summer months flew by. Walter Alvin and Oakie had just returned from the fields. They had been out all day harvesting hay. Waller and Oakie sunk down into two chairs on the porch. Well, Oakie, tomorrow ' s the big day! Yer goin ' off to college. Walter Alvin grinned and looked at his .son. Yup, I ' m gonna miss ya. Paw, said Oakie sorrowfully as he looked into his father ' s big gray eyes. Well, it ' s fer the best, Oakie. I want ya to have a good future. Walter slapped his thighs and got up to wash his hands for supper. Fit make you proud, Oakie said as he followed his father through the door. In the morning Oakie nervously dressed for his trip to Waverton State College. He was full of anxiety. What would he find there? Hurry up, boy! shouted Walter Alvin from the foot of the stairs. Yer bus leaves at nine! 15