Oklahoma City University - Keshena Yearbook (Oklahoma City, OK)

Page 19 text:

FRONT ROW: Bob Quick, Marie Losey, Jeannine Schiffman, Lee Coyle SECOND ROW; Richard Struck (Sponsor), Ann Baker, Kathleen Robinson, Barbara Lane, Helen Jeske, C. L. Grossman (Sponsor). BACK ROW; James Zin, Regina Rockwood, Joe Simpson, Hugh Dempsey, Neta Allsman, Bill Adams. the press club President Secretary Treasurer Bob Quick Regina Rockwcxxi Joe Simpson The O. C. U. Press Club is one of the busiest organizations on the campus . . . combining social and service activities for students interested in journalism and allied arts. Among the activities is the sponsorship of the Christmas food basket drive and the Keshena Kapers, both of which take considerable time, thought and effort of the members.

Page 18 text:

n SEATED: Jeannitie Schiffman, Dean Peter W Swarlz, Barbara Lane, Lee Covle. STANDING Dean Stanley, B Niles, Fred B. Robson, Dean Lester A Jones, Richard J, Struck, Clifton L Grossman. the board of publications L ' fa iiiir. -? FACULTY ADVISORS Duavne HatcheU, Arl, Richard J Struck, Editorial, Clifto L. Grossman, Technical. — A .

Page 20 text:

Something more than brick and moriar. Something more than iron and lumber, Stands our school imposed against The never-ending nothingness called space. A university is born of Dynamic energy from human hands And dreams from human brains, Insight, foresight from human experience. Unfailing mystic faith in human destiny. Ideals of moulding human lives to (crm a super race: the human race, caught in the deluge of inspiration that life has purpose, beauty, and significance. Something more than dedications. More than documents and charters. More than ledgers, more than money Builds a school of higher nobler thought. Here we learned . . . from the unlauded artists who create personalities, pouring their unnoticed years into the surging lusty stream of life where ' all our currents tend. These are the sculptors . . . carving and polishing the rough-hewn substance, evolving worthy, able citizens. These are the poets . . . inscribing indelible eloquent truths on minds. These are ihe musicians . . . playing sublime symphonies of hope and peace and social harmony. These are the painters . . . dashing pure pigments on drab souls with deft accurate brush strokes. These are ihe playwrights . . . composing scenes of stirring pathos in the miraculous drama MANKIND. These are the toilers . . . of meagre recompense persisting with unheralded crusade, inspiring, teaching, edifying, although they know there comes no fame to honor them, no glory and little gold to lusiify iheir artistry. Here we lost . . . as some prejudice faded, some inhibitions fled, some thoughtless credulity waned. Here we gained . . . as some acquaintances turned to friends and other selves were blended with ourselves, our culture donned a cloak of splendor, and our social dignity became refreshed. Here we laughed . . . aloud and quietly; laughed inwardly and outwardly; laughed at ourselves and at each other, at everything, at nothing. Here we spoke . . . hollow words and forceful words, joyous words and bitter words, shallow and profound, angry and genial words. Here we watched . . . strong bodies moving swiftly through pools of light, through the tempest of hoarse cheering; watched sinews like wire ropes or serpents writhing under rivulets of athlete sweat: watched eager striving youth living only for the game for the moment. ' v —16—