University of Kansas - Jayhawker Yearbook (Lawrence, KS)

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FALL NUMBER, 1947 7 Staff EDITOR: KEITH WILSON BUSINESS MANAGER: LARRY SIMM ONS SECRETARY: SHIRLEY HOYT ADVERTISING MANAGER: DWIGHT ROUNDS PHOTOGRAPHIC EDITOR: HANK BROWN EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS: Bill Conboy Betsey Sheidley Charles Hoffhaus Joan Woodward Marian Rippeteau ART STAFF: Paul Coker Jeanne Gorbutt Yogi Williams Lu Anne Powell Jo Compton Charles Freshwater CONTRIBUTORS: Bill Conboy Joan Bagby Mila Williams Margaret Meeks Betsey Sheidley Helen Kittle Janet Malott Corinne Temple Jane Williams Charles Hoffhaus Robert Davis Joan Woodward Neil Ball Hortense Bedell ADVERTISING STAFF: Bob Bottoms Virginia Daniels Warren Helgesen Arlene Feldcamp Margaret Granger Tom Hanna Dean Miller Bob Oberhelman Ann Preble Balie Waggener PHOTOGRAPHERS: Bob Graham Jim Mason Duke D ' Ambra Hank Brown Leland Norris Al Chalupnik Joe McClure It takes all kinds of people to make the world, and it also took a multitude of ferent personalities to collaborate on the first issue of the 1948 Jayhawker. Despite the seemingly insurmountable obstacles of photographing, engraving, recording, and printing the record of events on Mount Oread almost as they happened, the diligent work of the tireless staff enabled the first issue to become a reality. Keynoting a series of timely guest torials by prominent alumni is an article by a person who has long been among the favorites of the student body. By all means do not miss the essay Friends and Frogs by Helen Rhoda Hoopes. After long years of service, during which her name became a permanent fixture at K.U., Miss Hoopes has decided to retire from the strain of Hill activities. As a tribute to a brilliant teacher and friend of the students, we take great pleasure in printing one of the more famous of her essays. We have endeavored to record as many important events of the season as possible through the medium of photography. We believe that a series of good pictures can catch the theme of student life much more vividly and accurately than can the feeble efforts of our typewriters. In keeping with this plan, we therefore gladly doff our hats, shirts, ties, and everything else removable to the untiring efforts of our excellent photo- graphers. Without the efforts of men like Hank Brown, Bob Graham, and Jim son, we fear this issue would have never been out. And speaking of photographers, a new face has crept into the midst of our staff in the person of Neil Ball, who verbally and pictorially records the trip made by five Jayhawkers to Europe. To Betsey Sheidley and Bill Conboy, go our gold stars of the month. Betsey brings down the house with her intimate look into the new fashion trend titled, The New Look. Bill reports on the pros- pects of the Crimson and Blue in the iron sweepstakes of this year, and also on the Men ' s intramural race. If riotous laughter is your forte, then you should enjoy the hilarious account of Enrollment by Jane and Mila Williams. For an encore, Jane and Mila returned to dip their pen into verse. After many hours spent slaving over a hot rhyming dictionary they finally produced, Autub Seredade which appears on page seven. Long after this issue has collected a thick layer of dust on the shelf, we shall remember Hank Brown outfitted in surgical robe, gloves, and mask, preparing to enter the operating room to take the title picture of, Jayhawker—M.D. During the two days he spent wandering around Bell morial Hospital, he developed quite a pro- fesional manner. An speaking of unusual assignments, we also envy Hank for the excursion he made in taking the pictures for, Third Floor, Back. The trials and tribulations of an ling Freshman are related by Joan ward in, The Green Year, as she follows Jim Bower through the first trying days of the first week. Adding the social touch to this issue, Jim Mason toured the brighter spots of Lawrence one Saturday night to record, A Jayhawker ' s Night Out. He has corded almost all the different aspects of student recreation, from bowling to malt beverage. We realize that it is almost an bility to please the tastes of everyone, how- ever, we are determined to try. So here it is for your aproval . . . the first issue.

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6 THE JAYHAWKER C:Ns •TWCK 4 c. A ' , M William 14 Oh pardon gentles all, while I sing my ode to Fall. Fall, ab, fall—excuse me please I feel the call of savage sneeze. Lo, in yon window breaks the Autumn moon aglow. Amid its beams, in aerie flakes drifts pollen—not the snow. Sweet upon my pillow dreaming, unaware of nature ' s scheming, with Ceres ' evil eye agleaming, Alas, Alack, I wake up screaming! Atomizers, all in vain, Filters will not stop the pain. Ah, golden lads and girls all must In glorious Autumn, succumb to dust. Oh mortal who may wish to die and supplicate the Gods on high, The annals of ancient Greece record The God ' s solution to discord. As Persephone descends to Hades, Bacchus said, ' Pardon, Ladies, Hay fever comes but once a year, I gasp for breath, I drink my beer. For Autumn is my love divine With book of verse beneath the vine A jug of booze A tender whooze . This above all When Hay Fever ' s thru With finis of Fall . . Ah, cometh the flu! Poets may laud the beauties of Fall But in my own words, to id all! FITTER CHEVROLET is THE PLACE TO COME WITH YOUR CAR 738 New Hampshire LAWRENCE Everywhere it goes the assurance of Beech-Nut for fine flavor goes with it Beech-Nut Gum Those who take ac- tive part in sport, as well as those who IQ just watch, enjoy the refreshing flavor of BEECH-NUT GUM.

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EDI n gle According to Mr. Paul Gallico, no columnist worth his journalistic salt can afford to face the typewriter without the assistance of some hyperintelligent off- spring which are not averse to making with the wise- crack and glib remark at the appropriate time. In deference to Mr. Gallico ' s wishes, on Thursday last I labored and gave birth to a three-year-old son here- inafter referred to as Junior. Junior is an expert on all matters pertaining to economics, politics, ness, education, and the lowering of women ' s skirts; and in addition has definite Phi Beta Kappa leanings. Yesterday evening as I sat at home breathlessly engrossed in Little Orphan Annie ' s struggles with machine politics, Junior raised up from his study of the Chicago Journal of Commerce and cautiously inquired, Pater, why is this? This, in this case referred to the classified advertising section where two ads appeared concurrently. The first blandly an- nounced, Wanted — Certified Public Accountant. Must have college degree and at least two years ' ex- perience. Salary, $50 per week. This ad was lowed by a larger, more pretentious notice which exclaimed, Bricklayers Wanted! Two years ' work guaranteed! $25 per day! Junior, I said with a tear in my eye, The time has arrived for you to become acquainted with tain facts ... There was a time, back in the days of free lunches and Francis X. Bushman, when a college degree en- titled one to a slight raise in pay. Those were the days when the white collar worker could keep self in soap chips with his pay check. Such ness has now gone its way, along with hip flasks and Isham Jones. This change in the monetary evaluation of a lege degree has been brought about in part because there has been a change in college education itself. Two things have happened to it—it has been com- mercialized, and it has become specialized. A college degree has become a symbol of objective worth, like a tuxedoe, a Buick, or a Calvert ad. As such a symbol, it has been bought and sold in a way that would make Barnum proud and Plato shudder. As is the case with all commercial goods when an increased supply appears, the value of college grees has dwindled. The objective value of a college education has been forced down even further by the specialization that has taken place within education. Specialization has entered the American college scene at a pace that would make Henry Ford turn green with envy. The sedate old Liberal Arts institutions that used to dot our nation have been divided, sub-divided, de- partmentalized, and extended into sprawling cities which have a suspicious resemblance to our modern bomber plants. To the ivy-covered old buildings have been added; schools of business, schools of metalurgy, schools of speech, schools of mology, schools of advertising, and schools of family relations, but no schools of thought. We now have specialists in every field of human endeavor known to man. The only thing we seriously need is a specialist to coordinate all of the other specialists. We have an abundance of know-how, but all too little know-why. The American colleges, in their rush to instruct the fledgling citizen with the practices of our called civilization, have been criminally negligent in their instruction of the purposes of that civilization. As a result our technical advance has far out-stripped our moral advance, and we now have power without wisdom—a dangerous combination. Our position as a nation is analogous to a boat load of marine gineers, without a pilot. Our physicists know nothing of philosophy and our philosophers know nothing about guided missiles. Our ministers can ' t fire a rifle, and our ballistics experts don ' t know ethics from third base. The fault is not theirs, but that of the edu- cational system which produced them. The time has arrived for that system to give its children compasses to travel the thoroughfares of life with, instead of spades. Hilaire Belloc, a great writer and a great thinker, once remarked that we are witnessing a race between education, and disaster. At this moment, I ' d hate to have two bucks on education.