St Edwards University - Tower Yearbook (Austin, TX)

Text from Pages 1 - 216 of the 1973 volume:

In the beginning God... God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light. God saw that the light was good. O Then God said, “Let there be a firmament in the midst of the waters.” And so it was, and God saw that it was good. an’ 4 a ee © % “ ve Re he age Epon ee a ty esi And God said, “Let us make our image and likeness.” Che Tower 1973 ie St. Edward’s University Austin, Texas | Nathan La Franeer I hired a coach to take me from confusion to the plane And though we shared a common space I know [ll never meet again The driver with his eyebrows furrowed in the rear-view mirror Tread his name and it was plainly written Nathan La Franeer I asked him would he hurry But we crawled the canyons slowly Thru the buyers and the sellers Thru the burglar bells and the wishing wells With gangs and girly shows The ghostly garden grows The cars and buses bustled thru the bedlam of the day | looked thru window-glass at streets and Nathan grumbled at the grey I saw an aging cripple selling Superman balloons The city grated thru chrome-plate The clock struck slowly half-past-noon Thru the tunnel tiled and turning Into daylight once again | am escaping Once again goodbye To symphonies and dirty trees With parks and plastic clothes The ghostly garden grows He asked me for a dollar more He cursed me to my face He hated everyone who paid to ride And share his common space I picked my bags up from the curb And stumbled to the door Another man reached out his hand Another hand reached out for more And I filled it full of silver And I left the fingers counting And the sky goes on forever Without metermaids and peace parades Se nEL AT arnt Welcome to Austin, Texas The ehostly garden gTOWS... Joni Mitchell 18 “Find the best location for our capital,’’ Mirabeau Lamar, President of Texas, instructed five horsemen in 1839. The Republic of Texas was only three years old and needed a permanent capital. The horsemen ranged over the wilderness for several months and finally selected a four-family settlement called Waterloo. The site, in the center of the state, had a good-sized river, fertile farm backlands and scenic hill coun- try. The community was renamed Austin, to honor Stephen F. Austin who had led early U.S. settlers into the Texas territory. In September 50 ox-drawn wagons carried archives and furniture of the Texas govern- ment from Houston. tent . DEWAR'S ® “White label” the Scotch that + =o JND ROCK 14 ie) 20 phate Pale lore Sap tase east ng ie cl cad acl ciate ene vate : est er 4 S z | ae : 7 ' — j fn . 7 2 Z i} 2 0) v ‘ae 3 ‘ BA eeeadaeaperteetngenrnanR Mem eee 2 ne Austin’s early days were difficult. In May, 1839, when construction was begun on the streets and governmental buildings, workmen were protected from Indians by armed guards. The first capitol, a drafty, one-story structure called the Hall of Congress, erected that summer on the site now occupied by city hall, was surrounded by a stockade eight feet high, with loopholes. Edwin Waller, later the first mayor, directed development of the town. The Gazette, Austin’s first newspaper, appeared in October. In the 1840’s, it was reported that, because of Indians, “you were sure to find a congress- man in his boarding house after sundown.” Another Austin resident wrote: “The Indians are stalking through the streets at night with impunity. They are as thick as hops about the mountains in this vicinity, and occasionally they knock over a poor fellow and take his hair.” The stockade remained around the capitol as late as 1845. By 1840 Austin was an incorporated town of 856 persons. Many nationalities and creeds were represented, and it was a lively place polit- ically. President Lamar lived in a pretentious two-story building, while his political enemy, Sam Houston, resided in a shanty with a dirt floor on Congress Avenue, where he received men of affairs and hurled derision at the Presi- dent and his followers. Another newspaper, the Texas Sentinel, came into being that year. The town’s most pressing problem was transportation. Under the most favorable con- ditions freighting wagons, drawn by oxen, re- quired a month to make the round trip from Houston or Port Lavaca. Mail arrived once a week by pony express. Most of the routes followed the early Indian and old Mexican trails. River transportation was attempted, small flat-bottomed boats floating downstream with the current and returning by sail when the wind was favorable. But this was far from successful. In 1841 a line of accommodation coaches was established between Austin and Houston, carrying mail and passengers. The year 1842 was a critical chapter in the history of Austin. Following the invasion by a Mexican army which occupied San Antonio, and the rumor that a detachment was heading for the capital, many families abandoned Austin and the seat of government was hur- riedly removed to Houston. From this situation developed the historic Archives War. Feeling that Austin was no longer safe from Mex icans or marauding Indians, President Sam Houston dispatched James B. Shaw comp- troller, who rode Captain Buck Pettus’ fine blooded mare, to the nearly deserted capital for the Republic’s supply of stationery. The citi- zens, believing that Shaw had come to Austin to remove the archives, and fearing that their removal would mean the final abandonment of the city as the capital, sheared the mane and tail of Shaw’s mount and sent him back with- out the supplies. On December 30, an effort was made to remove the records secretly, but Mrs. Angelina Eberly, a hotel proprietor, saw them being loaded on a wagon in the alley back of the land office and spread the alarm. Citizens followed the wagons to Brushy Creek, about 18 miles north, and the following day succeeded in retrieving the records and returning them to Austin. The Mexican threat subsided, and after a three-year interval during which the govern- ment was conducted at Washington on the Brazos, Austin resumed its life as the capital. Then, in 1845, came the annexation of Texas to the United States. By July of 1850 tr- weekly mail stages made the trip from Austin to San Antonio, 90 miles, in one day. Soon afterward, the dream of navigating the river was revived when the steamer Colorado Ranger arrived in Austin, but that dream soon faded. From 1850 to 1860, the population reached 3,494. The separation between North and South impended, and in Austin were three distinct parties, one advocating remaining with the Union, a second demanding a Southern con- federacy, while a third wished Texas to resume its independence as a Republic. Travis County citizens voted against secession 704 to 450 but the State as a whole voted for the Confederacy. With the Reconstruction era came trou- blous times, but Austin prospered in spite of political strife and bitterness. In 1871 the Hous- ton and Texas Central Railroad reached the city, directly stimulating its growth and business. That line was followed by the Inter- national— Great Northern in 1876. In 1883 the University of Texas opened its first term, attracting students from all parts of the State. After graduation many students whose families in most instances had moved to the capital, elected to remain and begin their careers in either governmental or private posi- tions; the institution proved a boon to the city’s economic, as well as cultural, develop- ment, even though its first years were hard because of limited funds and the general un- friendliness of the citizens. In 1888 completion of the present capitol was celebrated with a full week of festivities. There followed a slow period of industrial srowth, culminating in the building of a million dollar dam and power plant on the Colorado River, which were destroyed by flood in 1900 and rebuilt by 1912. From the turn of the century what might be termed Austin’s modern life made great strides. The University of Texas grew rapidly and with St. Edward’s University, founded in 1878, and other institutions, the city became the State’s educational center. 23 4 1 cet caw Se FRE 25 26 1973 Only the seventh year since the establishment of Maryhill, the third since, the initiation of Model Q. The second year of the Night BBA and MBA. programs, and the first year of CAMP. Only seven years away from 1966 | by the calendar, but a million light years away from it by Orfeed As the. | latter “60s matured aged us as a nation, so they likewise retired a Se] Edward’s that can never be again. Some comments of Brother Stephen | Walsh, addressed to the faculty while he was interim president, suggest the) erowing pains felt on this hilltop in its seventh year of adolescence. . | would like to propose for your con- sideration an institutional perspective which has the student as its primary focus. In fact, my first axiom of funda- mental change is that our willingness and ability to assess where students are at and to respond to their needs is a major factor of our present viability. This carries with it the poviso that consulting students’ needs and interests does not mean that we are surrendering our principles, and we must hold students accountable for the responsibility we have granted them. If we feel everything is up for grabs, then it might be that the previously highly structured requirements, rules and regulations were indeed a crutch for our insecurity, rather than a positive delinea- tion of our beliefs. We have developed a program which I truly believe responds to the needs of students. . [f you have studied the academic design Model Q, you are aware that stu- dent needs and interests play a large role in the thrust of our program. Another belief that comes through is that students are affected not by courses, but through contact with teachers. When you recall your Own experience you remember the great teachers, and not course numbers and titles. And among us there are a num- ber of great teachers. To return to my original point: we have a program and we seem to be meeting students’ needs. At least we are not suffering from revolving admissions | plaguing a number of so-called innovative colleges, whereby large numbers of stu dents enter with very high College Board) scores and revolve out after one semester. | I don’t think we’re being different just to be different, but rather that we're making | a difference. The second axiom of fundamental| change is very much related to the first=) our walling 2 and ability to respond to, the needs of society are a major factor for i In this regard the following programs | our present viability. have been defined, developed, and imple mented: the Bilingual—Bicultural Teacher | Education Program; Project Excel; the, Center for Continuing Education; Envi ronics; Criminal Justice; and Environ) mental studies. | An integral part of the design is | entitled The Critical Missions Program. Addressing ourselves to students, the | statement we adopted reads: Now then, what about the real world? a | ately, we believe that you will come to realize that your education is not for you alone. We’re interested in helping you to develop | your capacity to earn a living and make wiser | use of your leisure time, but we are aiming higher than a good job and a good life for yourself alone. We aspire to have you accept. one of the many critical missions facing our society. Therefore we have developed pro ee grams specifically geared to presenting this challenge to the undergraduates. We have also deversified and sought out new markets for our services. For 85 years, we have been sitting on the edge of Austin educating young men and of late young women who have come mostly from outside the City of Austin. Then, somehow, we discovered we were in Austin. In the past several years, the Center for Con- tinuing Education has sponsored programs that have served nearly 2,000 Austinites. These ventures have not gone un- noticed—the public relations have improved our image in the community. A university has three functions—teaching, research, and g, community service. Teaching has always been strong here; research outside of the sciences has been limited, and for a long time there was no real community service. ... Many of us continue to think of the institutional mission as one to under- graduates solely, and yet nearly one-third of our enrollment is comprised of adults. An- “There are some among us who feel that although we have adopted the letter of our academic design, we have not entirely accepted tts spirit. There are others who have shut their eyes and are gritting their teeth with the hope that, as with all other bad things, this too will pass away. I believe it is time for us to begin grappling with the design.’ other aspect of this Critical Missions orienta- tion is the fact that many of these programs tend towards the interdisciplinary or multidisciplinary approach, making their existence even more tenuous because they require the good will of several departments. Allow me to say that our ability to over- come what for other institutions is an insurmountable barrier in this regard has been miraculous. , Typically in academic circles we have tended to be conservative. We cringe at talk about diversifying our markets and the pub- lic relations impact of our programs... we have been brought up to distinguish sharply between town and gown. We fear that seeking out opportunities for significant public service is perhaps merely opportun- istic. . .. Before one can accurately and effectively ‘articulate the thrust of St. Edward’s University today, he must be enthusiastic “about it or at least understand it. There are some among us—both faculty and students—who feel that although we have adopted the letter of our academic de- sign, we have not entirely accepted its spirit. There are others who have shut their eyes and are gritting their teeth with the hope that as with all the other bad things, this too will pass away. | am reminded of Brother Fabius’ priceless remark, ““There’s not a bad man among us, just a lot of tired blood.” | believe it is time for us to begin grappling with the design... it has enjoyed the pro- tection of the Academic Dean’s office long enough. ... We have a program, we have ideas, we are doing something and we must tell our various publics in clear and articulate terms what we are about. We do not have to begin all over again from scratch. We must begin to look to the future, we must begin to plan for the future because, by God, the future is ours. 27 (he (ower EDUCATION 1972, The Register and Tribune Syndicate “You should do better than this in art. | had your brother and he was VERY good!” The Family Circus by Bil Keane Reprinted courtesy The Register and Tribune Syndicate 29 I: is now eight years since the Free Speech Movement at Berkeley announced active stu- dent discontent with the educational system. No major institutional change has followed at the University of California. The most significant event has been conversion from a semester to a quarter system, “for more efficient utilization of the physical plant” in accordance with the state’s Master Plan. . . Higher education, as presently institu- tionalized, serves to create new knowledge, to transfer certain information and skills, and to impart certain kinds of social and cognitive conditioning. It is organized to serve these functions in the interest of the established structures and relationships of power (however one describes them). And it serves them in ways largely wrelevant or inimical to the learning needs of free people in a just society. In the Sixties the condition- ing in the schools began to be challenged and rejected by the young as cramping human potential and leading to death .. . I think the outlines of what will replace the present version of higher education are already visible. What the last fifteen years have been about—the awakening of social consciousness among the young and _ its development through politics into counter- culture and toward new community—is the growth of a new process of mass, ongoing “higher” education. What follows is a set of notes on the “alternative system.” The alternative system is largely decen- tralized. It has no institutional form in the sense we understand that concept. It is nota single establishment doing predictable business, in fixed modes, endlessly dupli- cated. Rather, to map its workings, we have to understand it as a network that is diverse, mobile, and evolving. The network includes the many sorts of groups people that have organized to connect directly with the learning and learning action they now feel they need: free clinics, free schools, underground papers and radio stations, crisis centers, free universities and student-run experimental colleges, media collectives (from video to posters), minority liberation groups, anti-war and military resistance groups, — tutorials, y oga meditation aikido “growth” centers, ecology and consumer-action groups, and so on. Each of these categories currently includes between 200 and 800 nodes. Each node consists of a group of ten to a hundred people, their energies focused on work that involves the lives of many others. (Thus even this “counter-cultural” of the alternate system may be seen to involve numbers of “teachers” fraction and “students” on the same order as the official system.) The common denominator is change— the learning of new ways. Thus each node is 30 How We Learn Today in America By Michael Rossman intense with the energies of transformation, and each person is impelled toward change from within and without. Many do change; that the average serious stay in a single node is around eighteen months is evidence of this. Thus many nodes have similar life-spans dispersing to pass their functions on to others while their people move on to new learning. Unlike conventional organizations, these are transient, disposable: They fit like thin clothes on the lives of the people within them. How can one make a catalogue for such a college? At any rate, we are trying. The Yellow hundreds of People’s Pages in Boston _ lists local organized learning resources. Similar directories flourish now in thirty cities, and a dozen efforts at ongoing national directories of sectors of the network have begun since Vocations for Social Change, on the West Coast, undertook the first one... The condition of the different, and not only in the sense that valued faculty is ‘‘nonprofessional resources” are equally with “‘professional.” Despite the present glut of gurus, if you ask those whose work makes these nodes, “What do you do?” very few will say, “I teach” (though most will confess this in some sense if you them). Knowledge from through the press comes practice, practitioner; increasingly, our instruction comes from people engaged in work in the world. The have specialist role of ‘Teacher as we conceived it is fading; teaching will remain—everyone’s_ birthright, used more flexibly and integrated into the action of lifes Seeing this net of meta-stable eddies in the general swirl as the ground of an educa- tional process, the difference between its basic learning group and the basic group of the institutionalized system (the class) is striking. A class consists of people with minimal mutual commitment come together by inor- ganic schedule and program rather than common life purpose; joined for brief, iso- lated meetings on a fixed schedule in a longer arbitrary time; encountering one an- other in only one of their many dimensions, © in an authority-centered society with fixed roles; dominated by a punishment reward framework of motivation; acquiring a spe- cialized splinter of knowledge already pre- pared; and, beyond this, training in data pro- | cessing and social conditioning. | In free-learning groups, from communes | to more organized nodes, people joined by . common interest and mutual design choose | to commit themselves to come together ex- | tensively and intensively over an open-ended | period. They meet each other on as many of | their human levels as they can, in a demo- | cratic peer society that generates its own norms and internal motivations, to learn and — to create the general and particular life knowledge needed. | I may seem to be describing this” alternative educational system much too | loosely, for at the level of karass and_ commune and somewhat at the level of the - organized nodes, it merges indistinguishably with the other processes of everyday life. But that is precisely the point! — = — — — — a = a ey | stitutions of mass (higher) education are a sent cultural innovation. Why should we ve assumed that the form in which they essed the function of extended citizen wning was immortal? As the function of cher becomes despecialized, so (from our rspective) the education comes deinstitutionalized and is freed to reconfigured with the “other” processes our integral lives—perhaps in forms hard process of = KD Or Zo CTT f AAs iia | i; to recognize. But forms there will be, for, actually, talk about ‘‘institutions’’ versus “deinstitutionalization” is nonsense, as is the argument about ‘“‘structure” versus ‘“nonstructure.” There is no nonstructure; even chaos has within it the form of whatever consciousness persists through it. If an institution is the shape in which a basic human need is serviced in society, then what es Sl, a Yael, S Aes | | ) Le ) 4 | am = so. sketchily describing as a process-system is an institution in an early stage of evolution. But it takes an understanding different from that provided by the standard model of “institution” to recognize in this swirl of first of the higher form appropriate to current motion a model institutional changing age. our August 19, 1972 Copyright, Suturday Review, Inc. 31 EXPLORA- TORIUM ! The art of discovery in San Francisco A high-frequency oscillator-transformer 1s not a typical toy for a six-year-old. But then, not much is typical about San Francisco’s Exploratorium—a magician’s sack of “Don’t touch that!” wonders that b eg to be opened, touched, pounded, pulled on, looked through, listened to, screeched at, and climbed on. The high-frequency oscillator- transformer lies in wait for the unsuspecting six-year-old at the Exploratorium’s entrance, about four feet from the donation barrel. As the visitor contributes his dime or nickel, the coin activates a switch that sends 300,000 volts of purple lightning zapping from a tall pole, turning on five phosphorescent tubes. It is the rare child—or even grown-up—who doesn’t drop in a second coin just to see what happens. Such “sight-seeing” is what the Explora- torium is all about—and what director Frank 32 Oppenheimer believes is the necessary first step toward learning and discovery. Not the guided-bus-tour kind of sight-seeing where the driver tells you what you see—or what you should be seeing. But the get-out- and-get-dirty kind of sight-seeing where you explore first and ask questions later . . . All Exploratorium exhibits are designed to be enjoyed—and learned from—on many levels. In a far corner of the dim, semi- circular cavern, a father and his small son are experimenting with a pedal generator. The that it pedaling to keep the three lights bright than son discovers takes a lot more it does to ride his own bike up a steep hill. Electricity comes from energy. The father, meanwhile, is more interested in the sign that says that you can buy the energy re- quired to keep the lights bright for just 1 100th of a cent. He gets into a long dis- cussion with an Explainer about sources o}) power, nuclear generators, motors, and why the family station wago won t start on cold mornings. electric ca}, Oppenheimer roams the Exploratoriur}, continually to see how visitors are using th} exhibits. The museum changes daily as ex}, hibits are rotated or modified. In fact, th}, Exploratorium is one of the few museum}, that keeps its exhibits only so long as th} staff doesn’t get bored with them. The staf itself is a schizophrenic collection of artist: engineers, teachers, designers, and anybod else who happens to like the place or walk in with a good idea. The “Limbie System,” multi-colored bubble that reflects an imag into infinity, was created by Berkeley sculf tor and, balloonist Ted Bridenthal. Opper heimer is a physicist and professor who, lik}. rejected nuclear weaponry and paid for hi | ‘neifist views with political and sometines Mientific ostracization. After the war “'ppenheimer spent ten years as a rancher in ‘blorado before returning to the classroom I d the laboratory. He came to San Hancisco in 1968 to put together the ‘xploratorium as a science museum at the | ’s Palace of Fine Arts—a forbidding U ezoleum that was erected in 1919. The side of the structure has hardly been ‘juched since it was a garage for army trucks ring the war... It is essential to the Exploratorium’s rpose that visitors can experiment and play” with the exhibits. Oppenheimer imself is concerned that the knowledge gap ptween scientists and nonscientists is icreasing. Most science museums, he says, ‘prify the past and the present but do little | make the wonders of science accessible to ue general public. In fact, Oppenheimer lieves that places like the Exploratorium ‘‘Yntaged” children with the rich environ- ‘‘Jent they need in order to escape the jstrictions of city life and to begin the jocess of discovery. This kind of compensa- ‘Jom or on TV. Trying to open the world to ‘“Vildren without authentic props is like | The Exploratorium has big plans for the ture. They include 800 new exhibits, | pansion into biological and other sciences, “id a library of portable exhibits that students could take to school and share with their classmates. But already, using only natural phenomena, Oppenheimer and his staff have created an experience that bends the mind in a way that few institutions can match. And turning kids on is, after all, what good teaching is all about. K.C. Cole, October 14, 1972. Copyright, Saturday Review, Inc. “Teaching science in a classroom takes the speculation and imagination out of learning. There's always a right and a wrong answer. Actually, scientists base what they do largely on esthetics. Frank Oppenheimer Exploratorium director 33 FREE SGHOOLS A Time for Cando1 34 F.. the past six years free schools have almost been pets of the media. Too little of this coverage, however, has focused on the deep and often overwhelming problems that confront some of these schools: the terrible anguish about power and the paralyzing inhibition about the functions of the teacher. . . It is time for us to come right out and make some straightforward statements on the misleading and deceptive character of certain slogans that are now unthinkingly received as gospel. It is just not true that the best teacher is the one who most successfully pretends that he knows nothing. Nor is it true that the best answer to the blustering windbag of the old-time public school is the free-school teacher who attempts to turn himself into a human inductive fan. . . The challenge ... is to define ourselves with absolutely implacable precision—and to do so even in the face of economic danger, even in the certain knowledge of the loss of possible allies. “This is what we are like, and this is the kind of place that we are going to create. This is the kind of thing we mean by freedom, and this is the sort of thing we have in mind by words like ‘teach’ and ‘learn.’ This is the sort of thing we mean by competence, effectiveness, survival. If you like it, join us. If you don’t, go someplace else and start a good school of your own.” Such precision and directness are often the rarest commodities within free schools. Too many of us are frightened of the accusation of being headstrong, tough, authoritarian, and, resultingly, we have tried too hard to be all things to all potential friends. . . The issue comes into focus in the choice of teachers and in the substance of curriculum. In an effort to avoid the standard brand of classroom tyranny that is identified so often with the domi- neering figure of the professional in the public system, innovative free-school teachers often make the grave mistake of n ducing themselves to ethical and pedagogic: neuters. The teacher too often takes the rol of one who has no power: The myth of this familiar pretense | that the teacher, by concealing his ow views, can avoid making his influence felti the classroom. This is not the case. N teacher, no matter what he does or does no say, Can ever manage not to advertise hi biases to the children. A teacher “teaches” not only or evel primarily by what he says. At least in part he teaches by what he is, by what he does by what he seems to wish to be... It is particularly disabling when a stron, and serious free school begun by parents 0 poor children in an urban situation find itself bombarded by young teachers wh« adhere without restraint or self-examinatior to these values. Not only does such behavioi advertise gutlessness and weakness to the children, it also represents a good deal o! deception and direct bamboozlement. The willingness of the highly skilled white teacher to blur and disguise his owr effectiveness and to behave as if he were less competent and effective than he really is provides the basis for a false democracy between himself and the young poor children he works with. The children, in all honesty, can’t do nothing. The young man from Princeton only acts as if he can’t. The consequence of this is a spurious level of egalitarian experience from which one party is always able to escape, but from which the other has no realistic exit. [ believe, for these reasons, in the kind of free school in which adults do not try to seem less vigorous or effective than they are. I believe in a school in which real power, leverage, and at least a certain degree of undisguised adult direction are not viewed with automatic condescension or disdain. | believe in a school in which the teacher does not strive to simulate the status or condition of either an accidental “resource-person,” wandering mystic, or movable reading lab, but comes right out, in full view of the SS i ‘hildren, with all of the richness, humor, “ Jesperation, rage, self-contradiction, “trength, and pathos that he would reveal to ther grownups . . . “)) In the face of many intelligent and ; Jespected statements on the subject’ of . “spontaneous” and “ecstatic” education, the 4 mple truth is that you do not learn | ‘alculus, biochemistry, physics, Latin -ammar, mathematical logic, Constitutional _ jiw, brain surgery, or hydraulic engineering ‘1 the same organic fashion that you learn to | valk and talk and breathe and make love. Tonths and years of long, involved, and—let 4 s be quite honest—sometimes nonutopian ‘ibor in the acquisition of a single unit of : ‘omplex and intricate knowledge go into the xpertise that makes for power in this vation. The poor and black cannot survive “ne technological nightmare of next ten ella | ears if they do not have this expertise. oe _ There is no more terrifying evidence of : nae culf of race and class that now separates ‘ppressor and oppressed within this nation aan that so many of those people who are Ich and strong should toil with all their Heart to simulate the hesitation, stammer, I awkward indirection of impotence, hile blacks in Roxbury, in Harlem, and in vast St. Louis must labor with all their soul win one-tenth of the real effectiveness ) jnat those white people conspire to deny. If Jhere is a need for some men and women to ‘ontinue in that manner of existence and hat frame of mind, and if it is a need that annot be transcended, then let there be two jery different kinds of free schools and two ery different kinds of human ‘ ransformation and human struggle. But, at )“ yeast within the urban free schools that we ‘ }uild and labor to sustain, let us be willing Jo say who we are and what we think and ie there we stand, and let us also say what wi Ihings we do not want. ce Those who fear power in themselves lear it still more in those whom they select ll) ly lead them... and boring people. Fear of power places a premium on mediocrity, nonvital leadership, insipid character, and unremarkable life-style. An organization, of whatever kind, that identifies real excellence, effectiveness, or compelling life-style with the terrifying risk of despotism and authoritarian manipulation will, little by little, drive away all interesting, brilliant, and exhilarating people and will establish in their stead norms of command mediocrity. The label reserved for those who do not learn to respect these norms is ““ego-tripper.”” Without question, there is a need for realistic caution, but not The perfect way to avoid an ego trip is _to create a community of utterly alienated, dull, Free schools must separate -| the fear of domination from the fear of excellence. every straightforward, unequivocal statement of position can be construed as an instance. of ego-tripping. The perfect way to avoid an ego trip, of course, is to create a community of utterly alienated, dull, and boring people. There is no risk of ego-tripping if there is no ego. But there isn’t any life or strength or truth or passion either. Free schools, if they wish to stay alive and vital, must learn to separate the fear of domination from the fear of excellence. Jonathan Kozol, March 4, 1972 Copyright, Saturday Review, Inc. 35 The Schools and Equal Opportunity An advance report by the authors of the study Inequality: A Reassessment of the Effect of Family and Schooling i America. Americans have a recurrent fantasy that schools can solve their problems. Thus it was perhaps inevitable that, after we rediscoy- ered poverty and inequality in the early 1960s, we turned to the schools for solu- tions. Yet the schools did not provide solu- tions, the high hopes of the early-and-middle 1960s faded, and the war on poverty ended in ignominious surrender to the status quo... Today there are signs that some people are beginning to look for new solutions to these perennial problems. There is a vast amount of sociological and economic data that can, we think, help in this effort, both by explaining the failures of the 1960s and by suggesting more realistic alternatives. For the past four years we have been working with this data. Our research has led us to three general conclusions. First, poverty is a condition of relative rather than absolute deprivation. People feel poor and are poor if they have a lot less money than their neighbors . . . The problem is economic inequality rather than low in- comes. Second, the reforms of the 1960s were misdirected because they focused only on equalizing opportunity to “succeed” (or “fail’’) rather than on reducing the economic and social distance between those who suc- ceeded and those who failed . . . Third, even if we are interested solely in equalizing opportunities for economic suc- cess, making schools more equal will not help very much... The main policy implication of these findings is that although school reform is im- portant for improving the lives of children, schools cannot contribute significantly to adult equality. If we want economic equality in our society, we will have to get it by changing our economic institutions, not by changing the schools. Poverty and Inequality The rhetoric of the war on poverty described the persistence of poverty in the midst of affluence as a “paradox,” largely attribut- able to “neglect.” Official publications all assumed that poverty was an absolute rather than a relative condition. Having assumed this, they all showed progress toward the elimination of poverty, since fewer and 36 fewer people had incomes below the offi- cial “poverty line.” Yet, despite all the official announce- ments of progress, many Americans still seemed poor, by their own standards and their neighbors’. The reason was that most Americans define poverty in relative rather than absolute terms .. . The changes in the definition of pov- erty are not just a matter of “rising ex- pectations” or of people’s needing to “keep up with the Joneses.” The goods and services that made it possible to live on $15 a week during the Depression were no longer available to a family with the same real income ($40 a week) in 1964. Eating habits had changed, and many cheap foods had disappeared from the stores. Housing arrangements had changed, too. During the Depression many people could not afford indoor plumbing and “got by” with a privy. By the 1960s privies were illegal in most places. Those who still could not afford an indoor toilet ended up in buildings that had broken toilets. For these they paid more than their parents had paid for privies. Examples of this kind suggest that the “cost of living” is not the cost of buy- ing some fixed set of goods and services. It is the cost of participating in a social system. It therefore depends in large part on how much other people habitually spend to participate in the system. Those who fall far below the norm, whatever it may be, are excluded. Accordingly, rais- ing the incomes of the poor will not elim- inate poverty if the cost of participating in “mainstream” American life rises even faster ian. Schooling and Opportunity Almost none of the reform legislation of the 1960s involved direct efforts to equal- ize adult status, power, or income. Most Americans accepted the idea that these rewards should go to those who were most competent and diligent. Their objec- tion to America’s traditional economic system was not that it produced inequality but that the rules determining who suc- ceeded and who failed were often unfair, The reformers wanted to create a world in By Mary Bane and Christopher Jencks i) hy lh 7 | 7] ae, — = — =] ay Illustrated by Sybil Ingram Ili f | vhich success would no longer be associated pi vith skin color, economic background, or yther “‘irrelevant” factors, but only with ac- “ual merit. What they wanted, in short, was _ what they called “equal opportunity.” | Their strategy for achieving equal op- T lested on a series of assumptions that went oughly as follows: |) Eliminating poverty is largely a matter of relping children born into poverty to rise ‘but of it. Once families escape from poverty, hey do not fall back into it. Middle-class ‘thildren rarely end up poor. 2) The primary reason poor children cannot sscape from poverty is that they do not ac- quire basic cognitive skills. They cannot ‘ead, write, calculate, or articulate. Lacking hese skills, they cannot get or keep a well- paid job. 3)The best mechanism for breaking this . ‘vicious circle” is educational reform. Since y +. 2 —— q ‘e children born into poor homes do not ac- quire the skills they need from their parents, 4 they must be taught these skills in school. ’ This can be done by making sure that they , if ‘attend the same schools as middle-class chil- ‘ ‘dren, by giving them extra compensatory yy programs in school, by giving their parents a voice in running their schools, or by some | ‘combination of all three approaches. | | | | | | Our research over the last four years suggests that each of these assumptions is erroneous... Implications for Educational Policy These findings imply that school re- form is never likely to have any signifi- cant effect on the degree of inequality among adults. This suggests that the prev- alent “factory” model, in which schools are seen as places that “produce” alumni, probably ought to be abandoned. It is true that schools have “inputs” and “out- puts,” and that one of their nominal pur- poses is to take human “raw material” (i.e., children) and convert it into some- thing more “useful” (i.e., employable adults). Our research suggests, however, that the character of a school’s output depends largely on a single input, the characteristics of the entering children. Everything else—the school budget, its policies, the characteristics of the teachers—is either secondary or com- pletely irrelevent, at least so long as the range of variation among schools is as narrow as it seems to be in America. These findings have convinced us that the long-term effects of schooling are relatively day-to-day internal life of the schools, in contrast, is highly variable. It follows that the pri- uniform. The cost of participating in a social system. mary basis for evaluating a school should be whether the students and teachers find it a satisfying place to be. This does not mean we think schools should be like mediocre summer camps, in which children are kept out of trouble but not taught anything. We doubt that a school can be enjoyable for either adults or children unless the children keep learning new things. We value ideas and the life of the mind, and we think that a school that does not value these things is a poor place for children. But a school that values ideas because they enrich the lives of children is quite different from a school that values high reading scores because reading scores are important for adult success . . . In America, as elsewhere, the long-term drift over the past 200 years has been to- ward equality. In America, however, the contribution of public policy to this drift has been slight. As long as egalitarians as- sume that public policy cannot contribute to equality directly but must proceed by ingen- ious manipulations of marginal institutions like the schools, this pattern will continue. If we want to move beyond this tradition, we must establish political control over the eco- nomic institutions that shape our society. What we will need, in short, is what other countries call socialism. Anything less will end in the same disappointment as the re- forms of the 1960s. SR of Education, October 1972 Copyright, Saturday Review, Inc. The “cost of living” is not the cost of buying some fixed set of goods and services. It is the 37 The New Naturalism By Daniel Yankelovich Sick my colleagues and | first began to study the revolution in campus values in the mid-1960s, I have been reminded of Alfred North Whitehead’s dictum that “oreat ideas often enter reality in strange guises and with disgusting alliances.” Whitehead was referring to the emergence, three millennia ago, of the idea of the essential equality of men. But our studies have led me to won- der whether the college student move- ment might conceivably harbor an idea of comparable importance. Should its claim to transform our moral sensibili- ties and national life-styles be taken seriously? Were we witnessing a new chapter in an authentic and serious movement in American cultural history or merely a nervous spasm elicited in re- sponse to the unsettling events of our time? In the course of our research with college students, | have come to regard these questions as the most crucial ones that can be raised about the student movement. Critics of student protest offended by long hair, rioting, open sexuality, and challenge to authority, see mainly the strange guises and dis- gusting alliances. Devotees of the coun- terculture, on the other hand, romanti- cize the movement, hailing each new a- ? berration as the inspired expression of 38 a great idea. But is it not possible that both sets of judgements, even though they seem to contradict each oth- er, form a single truth? Is it not like- ly, as Whitehead implies, that any im- portant new idea as it struggles to be born will assume transitional forms, some of them ugly and contaminated by passing circumstances? My own conclusion is that White- head’s formula holds true for the stu- dent movement: It does harbor a great idea, and that idea has entered current American reality in many strange and misleading guises. Conceptually, the movement’s central idea is neither whol- ly original nor yet a platitude. It has, in fact, recurred as a theme of our civilization many times over hun- dreds of years, though it has probably not been urged in so compelling and noy- el a form since the time of Rousseau. The essence of the idea is that we must initiate a new stage in man’s re- latedness to nature and the natural. In the hierarchy of values that consti- tute man’s conception of the summum bonum; the student-led cultural revo- lution elevates nature and the natur- al to the highest position. Whatever is natural is deemed to be good; whatever is artificial and opposed to nature is bad. But what is truly natural and what is opposed to nature? The answer is by no means self-evident. We have i- dentified almost twenty meanings of the concept “natural” as the student movement defines it. Some meanings are obvious, others are subtle. Some are superficial expressions of life- styles that students experiment with and then abandon like so many one- night stands; other meanings are fun- damental to man’s existence. To be natural, in the student lexicon, means: To push the Darwinian version of nature as “survival of the fittest” into the background, and to emphasize The students’ cultural revolution is liberal radical on equality and authority, but conservative on community. itead the interdependence of all things a1 species in nature. To place sensory experience ahead of iceptual knowledge. To live physically close to nature, athe open, off the land. To live in groups (tribes, communes) sher than in such “artificial” social gits as the nuclear family. To reject hypocrisy, “white lies,” and fier social artifices. To de-emphasize aspects of nature il- jninated by science; instead, to cele- rt all the unknown, the mystical, and |� mysterious elements of nature. To stress cooperation rather than (mpetition. To embrace the existentialist emphasis being rather than doing or planning. To devalue detachment, objectivity, d noninvolvement as methods for finding lth: to arrive at truth, instead, by pect experience, participation, and ‘olvement. To look and feel natural, hence rejecting makeup, bras, suits, ties, arti- ficially groomed hairstyles. To express oneself nonverbally; to a- void literary and stylized forms of ex- pression as artificial and unnatural; to rely on exclamations as well as silences, vibrations, and other nonverbal modes of communication. To reject “official” and hence artific- ial forms of authority; authority is to be won, it is not a matter of automatic en- titlemen t by virtue of position or official standing. To reject mastery over nature. To dispense with organization, ration- alization, and cost-effectiveness. To embrace self-knowledge, introspec- tion, discovery of one’s natural self. To emphasize the community rather than the individual. To reject mores and rules that inter- fere with natural expression and function (e.g., conventional sexual morality). To preserve the environment at the ex- pense of economic growth and technology. The counterculture is well named. As Kenneth Kenniston noted, it defines it- self, at least in part, in terms of what it opposes. And what it opposes consti- tutes a huge part of our culture. Yet, as the varied definitions of nature and the natural suggest, the positive side of the counterculture is the more significant one. Three themes in the new naturalism of the student movement stand out—the stress on community, the apparent anti-intellectual- ism, and the search for what is sacred in nature. It is a mistake to think of new student values in conventional political terms. The student movement is generally identified with political radicalism, and many of its views come from radical theorists. But some of its leading ideas, especially those relat- ing to community, have deep roots in con- servation tradition. If we trace liberal and conservative ideologies historically, we can distinguish them by their opposing positions on the fundamental philosophical issues of equality, authority, and community. By these criteria, the students’ cultural revolution is liberal radical on equality and authority, but conservative on community. It is such novel juxtaposi- tions that make the student movement inter- 39 also thrives. The relationship between them is Consciousness III cannot thrive unless Consciousness . symbiotic, not mutually exclusive. esting; at least some of the old stereo- types are being rethought along fresh lines... The task of restoring, preserving, and creating new forms of community has haunted Western civilization since the Middle Ages. It is as if the great victories won in modern times by Protes- tantism, individualism, rationalism, sci- ence, and industrialization all were gain- ed at a terrible cost—the sacrifice of community. In the headiness of newly won freedom, democracy, and material progress, the cost was minimized. Yet, as our mod- ern history unfolds, the elan of our tech- nological materialist society wears down. A terrible loneliness and a sense of iso- lation break through at the society’s greatest points of vulnerability. In our present culture, many of the human bonds of community bonds seen as so necessary to the spirit as to be constitu- tive of all that is humanly natural, have come apart... Perhaps no aspect of the students’ cultural revolution is as poorly under- stood—and as widely misinterpreted—as student mistrust of rational, conceptual, calculative, and abstract modes of thought... The student movement reserves its most brutal shock for those logical-mind- ed managers, technologists, engineers, professors of business administration, planners, accountants, experimenters, and quantifiers for whom rational, orderly, and logical methods are the royal road to truth. To these professionals—and they are the men who keep our society running— student disdain for rational procedures is incomprehensible. In such attitudes, should they be generalized, they see the destruction of all they have built. And they are probably correct. Even within the counterculture itself, the disdain for technique takes its toll. Commune-baked bread is often hard, flat, and taste- 40 less; the belts fall apart (and, after all, how many belts do we need?); and commune-based law firms that reject disciplined thought win few cases. As our society is presently constitu- ted, service to one’s fellow man, of- fered with compassion but without knowledge, can be a menace to both giver and recipient . . . Unless the cul- tural revolution is to be confined to enclaves of elitist dropouts with well- heeled parents, it must somehow learn to coexist with the technological thrust of our society. If the new nat- uralism is to have a constructive im- pact on the society, it must presup- pose the existence of an affluent econ- omy with a technological base. Charles Reich to the contrary, Consciousness IU cannot thrive unless Consciousness II also thrives. The relationship be- tween them is symbiotic, not mutually exclusive. With these qualifications duly reg- istered, we come to our main point, namely, that the student critique of the rational, the technical, and the abstract is not mainly a negative rejection of these methods. Indeed, it is not a vote against them but a quest for other modes of understanding .. . The mathematician Marston Morse onc said, “The creative scientist lives in ‘the wilderness of logic’ where reason is the handmaiden and not the master .. . it is only as an artist that man knows reality.” Morse’s viewpoint, shared by many creative scientists, often after long introspection about how their discover- ies were actually made, is that the logical, orderly, abstract processes of explicit reasoning are merely the sur- face manifestations of rationality. They presuppose other, less well-organized forms of experience that arise out of an immediacy of involvement, a total en- gagement of the mind and senses with the subject being studied. This type of in- volvement is the opposite of detachment and sequential logic. Without it, tech- nical reason is doomed to perform its sterile operations in a vacum. Reason is trivial when cut off from its grounds in direct experience. nore the complementary truth that direct lk experience undisciplined by technical reason can also be a treacherous master, ‘a leading to slovenly mysticism and, ul- timately, to a breakdown of communica- ’ tion. Both forms of thought are as nec- Ta essary to create understanding of reality as both sexes are to create new life... __ The search for the sacred in nature, ny the third major theme in the student movement’s system of ideas, has many of « the same characteristics as the concerns with reason and the nonrational. There is the same partial truth, the same unreal- istic turning of one’s back on what has ey already been accomplished, but also there is the same unerring aim at one of the most dangerous and critical imbalances in our American culture. The point can be conveyed, as my colleague William Bar- rett points out, by contrasting a windmill with a bulldozer. The windmill has to Ui ricdate iteelt to the wind and the terrain. To fulfill its function as a windmill, it makes use of the region even as it accommodates itself to it. It uses + the wind in such a way as not to consume it. The wind continues on and remains the wind. The windmill can use the wind only by giving itself to it; it lets the wind be wind. The bulldozer is a human artifact of a very different kind. Its name appropriately conveys the idea of power: It does not accom- modate itself to the objects of nature, but overpowers them. It bursts through obstacles, pushes them aside, levels them ... It is in this sense that the student ‘movement rejects the sharpness of the dichot- omy between man and his environment, deval- uing the artificial works of man and el- j the | all ent | sil evating instead the natural environment to the status of the sacred. It should be clear, then, that the great idea embodied in the student move- ment, the mass media to the contrary, is not that of political revolution in the classic sense of an overt transfer of power from those who now wield it to those who carry out the revolution. Since the early 1960s, the campus has served as incubator for two kinds of social change—one political, the other cultural. Up to now, the two have inter- penetrated each other, with the political side being the more prominent. Our re- search has shown that the tide of poli- tical radicalism on campus shifted direction in 1971, receding from its 1970 high. Although the number of students who identify with the New Left has not di- minished significantly over the past sev- eral years, the campus as a whole is far less politicized today than in previous years. The question now is, what will happen in the future? . . - Has the major thrust of the campus- led political revolution merely paused be- | fore renewing itself or has it entered a period of decline? How deep are the roots of student political radicalism? Our interpretation of the student move- ment suggests that the campus-based poli- tical revolution is over for the fore- seeable future, while the cultural revo- lution—the new naturalism—will continue to grow at an ever increasing tempo .. . Great ideas work by a covert underground process. Just when the students have aban- doned their evangelism and activism, the seeds of the idea that now flourishes on campus have taken root in the larger culture. Before the decade of the 1970s has passed, the new naturalism will become a powerful force, nationwide in scope. April 1, 1972 Copyright, Saturday Review, Inc. 41 the president and faculty of St Edwards University cordially invite you to A, Convocation honoring Joan Ganz Cooney President, Childrens Television Workshop Creator of Sesame Street” and the third recipient of the St even Serie aw Quest Tuesday April, [TH a+ 8:00 p.m. The Atrium, Moody Hal| Reception Aferwards iailenzing educators to put away the schnology of the past 500 years Mrs. Joan sanz Cooney accepted St. Edward’s Univer- ity’s third Quest Medal, the university’s ighest honor, created to recognize individ- als whose life work has been characterized y creative enterprise and original thought. _ Mrs. Cooney is the founder and presi- ent of the Children’s Television Workshop, | project which adapts television to early hildhood education. The workshop’s chief roduct, Sesame Street, aimed primarily at isadvantaged children, is seen by greater nan half of the 12 million three-to-five- ear-olds in the United States. The Electric | 1 ‘ompany for older children, is a more recent roduct of the workshop. “Our view,” recalled Mrs. Cooney, when we began in 1968, was that television yas not about to go away, that we who were terested in the education of children had etter capture some of television’s methods nd turn them to our own purposes.” | On the strength of Mrs. Cooney’s study . or the Carnegie Corporation, which detailed he unprecedented pervasiveness of the tele- ision medium in youngster’s lives, and with elp from Head Start, Carnegie, Ford and Jarkle Foundations, and the Corporation or Public Broadcasting, the Children’s Tele- ision Workshop was born to address these urposes through some very specific curricu- um goals; recognition of letters in the alpha- et, counting ability, beginning reasoning sills, vocabulary, and an increased aware- ess of self and the world. “We co-opted,” Mrs. Cooney explained, commercials for our own purposes.” “We knew that children loved television, specially the animation and music and 10vements. And, above all, young children � ved commercials.” “We knew that children learned from aem. Children, all over America, were heard nging catchy little songs about Ballantine eer and Sominex.” “So, why not use these devices—really 1arvelous audio-visual techniques, and ef- 2cts—to teach something more constructive, ke numbers and letters and concepts, in- ead of advertising jingles?” “In the process of putting Sesame he Second Generation of Educational Television Street together, using all the standard techniques of commercial television, we evolved a new form. In other words, changing the content transformed the style as well.” “. . . Virtually everything about the series is ¢xploratory, and subject to modi- fication. That it remains so after the production of more than 500 hours of broadcast time, is the result of one of the more unlikely marriages in the history of television.” “That is, the union between produc- tion and research—involving educators in the determination of curriculum, and keeping them involved as the Series progressed.” “Putting research and production to- gether was a trial marriage. A number of television professions suspected it would be more trial than marriage. But they were wrong. A marvelous spirit of cooper- ation developed between broadcaster and researcher. It has kept us questioning, probing, innovating, adapting.” “.. . The galleon on the Quest Medal reminds me that before Columbus dared to:sail the Atlantic, it was well known that the world ended out there some- where beyond Gibralter.” “To the Spanish, one of the real sources of pride was that they were the last outpost of the world, with their nation fronting on the Great Beyond. Therefore, the royal coat of arms showed the Pillars of Hercules, the great columns guarding the Straits of Gibralter. The royal motto said plainly: Ne plus ultra. “There is no more beyond here’.’ “But, then, Columbus came back. And the ancient coat of arms didn’t seem ° so appropriate any more. In this crisis someone made a noble and thrifty sug- gestion that they simply kill the first word, ‘ne’.” “So the coat of arms read, and has read ever since, just two words.” “Plus ultra. ‘There is more beyond’.” “T believe that about the use of tele- vision for education: There is plenty more beyond. It remains for us to find it.” g « a] % ‘7 ak €€ Teaching and television are a logical and necessary match, and they must become the best of allies and most trusting of partners. 99 trae A Eg on IIe Ser Ge be | F AGLA PRR Chuss prune f ONS, RRS SANE CONCERTS fx VAS, NIRAFFICSim SUI TORION $2. 4, TOP ES o d 0, Ape 302 45 Cower (he HE COMMUNITY OGRe, — — — —, . 4x� +.a 2. , wona o_o - alt BL mL mmm mm eee CU CL Pe | I i ( SO 8 CREE enie TRUVEO meee Emme iT] ! : Mm Ue UE TN 46 me mm mm eee Pa Oe A NY We WO NON MOY NUE MOY MU MO MO MM TOO) On We S00 AOE MUN HO DO BO MRE HO ee Oe Oe Oe Me Te Re MO Be ST. EDWARD'S UNIVERSITY (Formerly St. Edward’s College) AUSTIN, TEXAS A Senior College of the First Class The Notre Dame of The Southwest Member of Association of Texas Colleges The Faculty, Spirit, Efficiency of Notre Dame COLLEGE COURSES Classics, Letters, Philosophy, Business Administration, Science, Pre-Medical, Pre-Legal, Two Years of Engineering ALL COLLEGE WORK FULLY RECOGNIZED DEGREES Bachelor of Arts, Bachelor of Business Administration Graduate courses leading to the Degree of Master of Arts ST. EDWARD’S ACADEMY A Complete High School Fully Accredited Member of Southern Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools ATHLETIC COACHING SCHOOL During the summer vacation a A two weeks course in Athletic Coaching will be conducted by Knute Rockne of Notre Dame, Dr. Walter Meanwell of Wisconsin, | and Jack Meagher of St. Edward’s University—a course especially designed for Athletic Coaches and Directors. Further information may be had by addressing: THE REGISTRAR, ST. EDWARD’S UNIVERSITY Austin, Texas | UA Sa ee ————s OE, 2 REA TS TE MA any people forget her name, but they ever forget the face of St. Edward’s Univer- ity, an Austin landmark older than the ‘exas Tower and a part of Austin’s history or a century. The historic medalion placed m_ the Main Building by the Texas State His- orical Survey Committee early in 1973 re- alls the colorful history of the university vhich grew from a chance shipboard meet- ng of two early American priests. The very Rev. Edward Sorin, Superior seneral of the Congregation of Holy Cross nd founder of Notre Dame University, was vxound for France and Rome in 1869 when se met the Rt. Rev. Bishop Claude M. Du- yuis of Galveston, bound for Vatican I. At hat time Bishop Dubuis offered Father sorin’s congregation two diocesan schools in srownsville and Galveston, and when three rears later the Bishop learned of Mrs. Mary Joyle’s intention to leave most of her 498 ere South Austin farm to the Catholic thurch to establish an “‘educational institu- ion,” he invited Father Sorin to Texas. Father Sorin came, surveyed the beauty i the surrounding hills and lakes, observed he bustling growth and potential of the ledgling frontier town, and decided this vould be the home of a new Catholic chool. To insure vital access to Old Post ‘oad (now South Congress Avenue) he pur- hased 123 acres in addition to Mrs. Doyle’s ift of 394 acres. The school was founded a year later ollowing Mrs. Doyle’s death. Father Sorin alled it St. Edward’s Academy in honor of is patron saint, Edward the Confessor and ‘ing. Three gangling farm boys made up the tudent body the first year, 1878. They met or classes in a makeshift building on the old oyle homestead almost a mile east of the resent campus. By 1881 the school was oarding students, and in those days people alled it the Catholic Farm; it fed its faculty nd students by raising beef, grain, vege- _Jables, and fruit on its own land. . The academy got into full swing in 1884 I cannot rest from travel; I will drink Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; Iam become a name, because I am a part of all that I have met when the president, Rev. P. J. Franciscus, rapidly secured a charter (1885), changed the name to St. Edward’s College, as- sembled a faculty, set forth a syllabus of studies and increased enrollment. Occupying a secluded spot among a patchwork of South Austin farms, the college was connected to the main town by horse and buggy roads and a ferry across Town Lake. Despite the relative isolation the college mushroomed to an enrollment of 200 by the turn of the century. Father Peter J. Hurth, the president from 1885 whose era saw the first school newspaper published and the organization of baseball and football teams, secured approval to erect the original administra- tion building. Well-known architect N. J. Clayton of Galveston designed a hand- some four-story structure in Gothic Re- vival style, to be built of Texas white limestone. The first shovel of dirt was turned on the feast day of Our Lady of Mount Carmel (July 16, 1888) and the building, a source of pride in the Holy Cross community and a grand structure for the early Southwest, was finished ten months later. It housed offices, a dormitory, chapel, library, and dining hall. classrooms, From Ulysses, by Alfred Lord Tennyson A big moment came in 1893 when Old Main got electric lights and steam heat. That was 17 years before Austin’s popu- lation reached 30,000 and traffic, with the coming of motorcars, began to race along Congress Avenue at 15 m.p.h. St. Edward’s students began to spend more time in town when the movies started. They could see a picture at the Hancock or Crescent theater for a dime in 1909. Not that there wasn’t a lot to do on campus. In the shadow of Old Main, the uni- versity has wildcatted for oil, trained pilots, dug its own artesian wells, and once awarded a $125 prize for oratory to famed Houston criminal lawyer Percy Foreman (1928). There was also excitement on campus of a far more serious nature, however, in the spring of 1903 when a mysterious fire de- stroyed all of the administration building ex- cept the main entrance with its massive doors, the circular walls of the back stair- well, and the stone columns on the north- west corner. There was one hero Tom Kelly raced to the top floor and saved his room- mate Francis Huck, who was in bed with the mumps. (continued, page 50) 47 48 g¢ ST. EDWARD'S ECHO 4 VOLUME VII APRIL, 1926 NUMBER 7 Early Days at St. Edward’s By Joe P. Byrne, ’91 I have been flattered by a request to write a short sketch of events that transpired within my memory and ken during the infaney of St. Edward’s. Be it under- stood at the outset, however, that I possess no medals won in memory contests; nor have I any great amount of patience with those persons of a meticulous turn, who are constantly catching you up on this slight omission or that inept or unguarded stateinent. My earliest recollections of St. Edward’s go back to about 1878, at a time when it was not even an academy, being merely a day-school, the entire membership con- sisting of Bib Stovall, Felix Smith, Ed and Joe Johnson, and four members of the tribe of Byrne. The prefect of discipline, athletic director, preceptor in reading, writ- ing, and arithmetic, as well as President of the school, was the Rev. Father DeMurrs, a pious and kindly old French priest, with a disposition entirely too mild to cope with the bunch of young savages who fell under his charge. Those were stirring days in Texas, and the deeds of Frank and Jesse James, Cole Younger and Sam Bass had a much stronger appeal for the average boy than had the accomplishments of Noah Webster, or Sam Johnson, and truth compels the statement that the bunch attending Father DeMurrs’ class was not above the average. It would be flattery to give them even such a high grade. If that good old priest is not at present wearing an cter- nal crown, it is certainly due to no lack of effort on the part of his pupils. A short while after the advent of Father DeMurrs, Father Shea came, and relieved him of the burden of the class-room. Father Shea’s tenure was a brief year, or perhaps two would cover the period of his stay at the school. The location of the school at that time, and for several years thereafter was at the farm. Father Shea was re- placed by Father Robinson, a scholarly man of magnet- ic and lovable personality. By this time, about 1880 or 1881, the school had grown to the estate of an academy. Several frame buildings were erected, and facilities in- stalled for accommodating boaders, and the foundation laid for the flourishing University of today. The student body, exclusive of day students, numbered something like twelve or fifteen. The names of those I now recall are Hamilton and Walter Reilly, Tom and Ed Smith, Charles Clappert, John Wolf, Jerry Sheehan, Hugh Haynie, Neal Begley, Pete Baker and John Byrne. It was not so many years prior to that time that the Tndians made an attack on Baker’s people in San Saba I feel safe in the statement that the Indians would have earned the County, and killed ov wounded his sister. undying gratitude of Father Robinson if they had scalped Pete and about eight or ten of his fellow students before they lrad been wished off on him. In those days, and for many years subsequent, it was considered the right and proper thing, when a boy was too hard-boiled for any other school, to send him to a Catholic institution. Let it not for a moment be inferred that that was the reason for the presence at St. Hdward’s of the devoted ecieven set out above. Brother Max was prefect of discipline during the presi- dency, or part of it, of Father Robinson. He was a sim- ple, goodhearted old soul, a farmer by training and pro- fession, and as ill-fitted to fill the position to which he was called as it is possible to imagine. As a side-line he planted a vegetable garden, and among other things that seemed to thrive therein to an astonishing degree was a patch of carrots, in which he took great pride. Some one of the students, with more time on his hands than he needed for his lessons, in a spirit of boyish lev- ity, loosened one of the pickets, so that an old sow and a bunch of shoats got in, and when they retired the car- rots went with them. Brother Max, being unequal to his task, was relieved of his duties as prefect by Brother Sixtus. The boys then discovered how foolish they had been, and what a mis- take it had been to force Brother Max to quit; for Bro- ther Sixtus would take no nonsense from them, and he made them understand that the office of prefect of dis- cipline was not instituted for their amusement. During this time I was an attendant at the school as a day stu- dent, along with Jeff Todd, Jim Brodie, Brooks Blocker and my brother, Bernard, our home being about a mile east of the school. My parents removed to the City in 1883 and I lost touch with the College for several years. When we returned to the country the College had moved to its present site, and splendid stone buildings had replaced the wooden ones which served at the farm. I resumed attendance in 1889 and continued till the end of June 1891. During most of that time Father (afterwards Bishop) Hurth was Presi- dent. He was a man of splendid executive ability and the College made wonderful progress under his guidance. The main, in fact practically the only, sport at the Col- 4 ST. EDWARD’S ECHO | lege was baseball. We played some football by way of a | change; a hybrid sort of affair, partly Rugby and partly _ the game as played today, and it excited but a languid f) interest. With baseball it was entirely different. Almost every student played and was the member of some team or ' other. In those days there was no athletic council, no athletic director or coach, and as for dietine—if we got | hold of some corned beef and cabbage, or pork and beans, we felt fully equipped to tackle any team that had the _ temerity to meet us. We bought our own bats and balls _ and suits; and the College authorities did not, and were _ not expected to contribute to the upkeep of the team. _ They lent us their enthusiastic moral support. The banner team of those years was composed of _ Krause and Long for the battery; Emil Coombs on first; Mark Tinsley on second; Pat Smith on third; Joe Byrne - at short; with Raggio, Malloy, and McCarty in the field. _ We went into training in September and did not come out until the closing exercises in June. Krause, our slabs- man, was a husky German. His gifts as a ball player _ were gratuitously bestowed on him by nature, and he was entitled to no credit whatever. He knew practically | nothing of the trick of throwing a curve ball, but his speed was terrific, and his endurance without limit. He | was afflicted with labor-phobia of both mental and phys- | ical variety, and was never known to practice, or in fact, do anything else he could avoid; and it was quite the usual thing that he had to be hunted up and dragged on the field just before the game started. We made no ex- tended journeys to meet opposing teams in those days. The limit of our faring was the City of Austin, where we met the best material to be found there. T recall the names of some of the boys who attended the College about the time when Father Hurth was president. Frank Crain and Tobe Wood, now prominent attorneys of Victoria; Dave Shawl, Frank Hervey, Santos Benavi- des of Laredo; Will Hicks and Pat Coombs of Browns- ville, Arthur and Will McAtee of Houston, John Spell- � % 7 i ys man, Jim Whelan, Gus Brass, John Flanagan, Langdon Harris, George Signaigo, now a prominent merchant of Dallas. The College always maintained a corps of able, scho- larly teachers, who were a credit to themselves as well as the institution in which they worked. Brother Kil- lian was the teacher of mathematics, bookkeeping and penmanship. He would tolerate no foolishness in the class room; he had a dour and crusty manner; but those who did their work conscientiously and tried to meet the requirements of their studies soon discovered that his seeming grouchiness was only a cloak to cover a sym- pathetic and kindly disposition. In addition to being well qualified as a preceptor in mathematics and pen- manship he was—and this appealed more strongly to me—a wonderfully fine field shot, and I had with him many enjoyable tramps after quail and doves. Brother Stanislaus, among other classes, taught rhe- toric and shorthand. Using the Isaac Pittman system as a basis he made many useful and helpful changes and abbreviations, until the result might almost as well have been called the Stanislaus as the Pittman. His method of teaching was one of moral suasion, rather than of foree, and was eminently successful. Being guileless himself, he suspected no wrong-doing or evil intention in others, and the boy who failed to make progress under his tutelage, and who did not improve morally as well as mentally by association with him, was indeed beyond hope. He took great pride in his old students, and was constantly referring to some one or other of them who had attained prominence in the world. Some of the other instructors whom I recall were Fa- ther Schier, who served as President for a short time, and for a longer period as Vice-President. Mr. Black and Mr. Pinnell were seminarians who were afterwards ordained. Father Olmert taught Christian doctrine and German. One of his favorite indoor sports was the writing of Ger- man poetry, which it fell to my lot to recite at several of the commencement exercises. Apparently St. Edward’s once had a tennis team. Does any- one know who the men are and in what year the picture was taken? SS EES 50 Before the administration building’s embers were cool a crew began to rebuild the structure, and by the fall of 1903 it was restored. Nineteen years later, in 1922, it was damaged by flying debris hurled by a tornado that splintered a nearby dormitory, obliter- ated a gymnasium, leveled the school’s power plant, and made a ruin of its “natatorium,” one of the few indoor swimming pools in the state. Students resumed classes in Old Main the next day. It was at this time that St. Edward’s enjoyed its brief fling with the glories of college football with At the right the walls of the Main Building are being reconstructed around the main entrance, the back stairwell, and the northwest stone col- umn, the only parts of the original admin- istration building salvageable after the fire. All the walls that the picture on page 47 shows still stand- ing immediately after the fire had to be torn down before reconstruction could begin. Notice that a second front entrance east of the present one was lost in rebuilding Old Main. Above is Holy Cross Hall after the 1922 tornado. which her flashier northern sister would become so closely identified. In the 20s St. Ed’s licked Baylor, Rice, Tulsa, Louisiana, and Tennessee in football. The coach was Jack Meagher, hand-picked by Knute Rockne to coach the St. Edward’s Saints. Rockne had been to the St. Edward’s campus in 1920 to head a coaches clinic and he recommended Meagher, one of his former Fighting Irishmen, to train the team. St. Edward’s College, which was to advertise itself proudly later in the decade as “The Notre Dame of the Southwest,” had launched the 1920s with a patchwork schedule and a former Carlisle all- American as coach. Capt. W. J. Gardner was hired off the foothbal staff of the University of North Dakota in th summer of 1920 to direct the gridiron fortunes of St Edward’s. With Gary Lacy the quarterback and star of the team, Gardner guided his first and as it turned ow only club to a 7-2 season. The Saints launched the campaign with a 4-0 win over Austin High. St Edward’s drubbed West Texas Military Academy 88-0, but fell to San Marcos Baptist Academy and the San Antonio Knights of Columbus. High point of the season was a 24-14 victory over Dallas University. The Statesman reported in its, edition of Sunday, Noy. 21, 1920: “Playing a brand of football that is seldom |. equalled by teams of academy standing, the St. Edward’s College aggregation dressed the Dallas University squad down to the tune of 24 to 14 ina. lively contest at Clark Field Saturday afternoon.” For reasons not widely publicized, possibly because a Notre Dame alumnus became available, Gardner did not return for the following season and Meagher took over as “Physical director and coach in all branches.” Meagher directed his first of eight St. Edward’s teams to a 3-4-1 season, then came back with an 8-2 club in 1922. In 1923, the school hit its football peak for the decade. The Saints skipped through an 8-0 season that included surprise wins over Phillips University of Enid, Oklahoma, and Tulsa University. Depression and World War II took their toll on student enrollment at St. Edward’s, and for a time toward the end of the war men in uniform, trainees at a flying academy at St. Ed’s, outnumbered students. The 35-7 rout of Tulsa was regarded as something of a monumental upset. The local press reported on Oct. 28: “Into the celebrated oil capital of the world, came the football machine representing St. Edward’s College of the capital of Texas, and when the very grey and dark afternoon had faded the boys from Texas walked out the victors.” During the 23 season, a Statesman sports writer was moved to castigate University of Texas athletic officials for refusing Meagher’s requests that the two Austin college teams meet on the gridiron. UT refused on the grounds that the Saints were not members of a conference. Independent status in those days often suggested outlaw tactics. But the writer, unperturbed, took up the Saints’ cause and advised “There is no question that St. Edward’s would have given the Longhorns a much better game than did the South- western Pirates (in a 44-0 loss)...” The Meagherites, as they were sometimes called on campus, still couldn’t schedule Texas the next year, but they did find Southwest Conference competition. They rolled through their first six games undefeated with Melvin Steussy the captain, left halfback and standout triple- threater. Then they came afoul of Baylor, destined to win the SWC championship. The Bears won, 30-7, and left the Saints so rattled they were spilled the next week, 3-2, by Sam Houston Normal of Huntsville. Whether or not the Saints would have played a representative game against Texas in 1923, they couldn’t in their 1928 opener, the Longhorns prevailing 32-0. In 1929 the Rice Owls hired Meagher away and Al Serafiny, a former St. Ed’s center, took over as coach, until the depression ended football at St. Edward’s. After an enrollment low of 16 students following two world wars and depression, the Holy Cross set out to night the failing school. St. Edward’s purchased war surplus classrooms to supplement its permanent structures, secured additional lay personnel, initiated a building program, and began the 1946 school year offering courses in business administration, arts and letters, engineering, and science. A progression of energenic presidents, Br. Edmond Hunt, Br. Elmo Bransby, and Br. Raymond Fleck trans- formed the hilltop over the next 20 years, tripling enrollment, faculty, and material assets, and bringing women to the hilltop at long last in 1966. That isn’t Knute Rockne standing with one of St. Edwards’ earliest football teams (this is the team of 1907), but 14 years later Rockne’s hand-picked protege, Jack Meagher, would come to stand with eight St. Edward’s teams, including the unbeaten °23 club and the ’28 club that actually played the University 0 of Texas (and lost, 32-0!). il é + ea ¥ : : ¢ 3 1 la Abin eM AG se eit spe Afro-American Weekend AS “Young, Gifted, and Black” Friday: Saturday: Sunday: Harambee—singing, dancing, poetry reading, style show Dance Soul food dinner (by invitation only); play “The Ghetto—Cry Don’t Scream” _— _ = At the Mary Moody Northen Theatre: JONATHAN HARRIS THE ADDING MACHINE 56 Peet ie ren Por teat te, 5 teas Saws A play by Elmer Rice Mrs. Zéro2.. a eee Karen Kuykendall Mir? Zero ios ore ake ee Jonathan Harris Daisy Diana Dorothea Devore ........ Christine Schleicher The: Boss... . hse eee John Slevin Mrs Orleans a ee Bro. Michael O’Palko. C.S.C. Mrs: One 7 oe eee Madeleine Pearsall MreT WO nc eee James Keane Mrs T Woe fn oe ee ee Lolly Hatcher Mr; Three 2.4) ae oe Steve McHale Mrs. Thieé: 2 2672 ee re as Janie Jarmek Mrs Four ss weet ete eee James Rice Mrs. oursesae eee eee Melinda Brooke THE CAST Mr... Five, v3:2 koe ee oetees oe ee Joseph Sain Mrs: Fiveit ft ..o1 selene eee Teresa Nichols Mri Sixhee ce 2 cee eee Adrian McKnight Mrs: Sixet 83. see eee Elise Crowell Policeman .c- se oe eee Pete Harrell II Judgégityg 2 etek: see ee Charles Collins Judge, O Gradyae. = =. 5-1 eee Teri McMinn Young+Mari).28 cc se, cakes te ee Mitchell York Shrdlu UA aR es, 7 Charles Escamilla A: Head geass Fe phen sae ene eee Kevin Dee Charles vet a oe ee Robert Lacey, Jr. JOCR Poke Ae ee ee ee eee Elliott Williams Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas directed by Karen Ryker THE CAST (in alphabetical order) AnnesB leichpeeer etnian ccce reer eeye sh ete tas secs Rosie Probert Polly Garter Mrs. Dai Bread Two Mary Ann Sailors Mrs. Ogmore-Pritchard Louis: Gervantesteee cr cee ieee ere ore ee ener Fifth Drowned Ocky Milkman Willy Nilly Little Boy Waldo Old Man Charlestl'scamilla bg ace en ere tee ees crore eee First Voice Cherry Owen Preacher Pete; Harrell oS) liaiewyos cn cen eee A eee tec aiciette Second Voice Second Drowned Evans the Death Sinbad Sailors Vanni} ackSorigeecremetacret: ate sack ronenstot te oom saetionece or Gossamer Beynon Mrs. Dai Bread One Lily Smalls Waldo’s Wife Child SteverM cHalesrast ie aes creas Rae ee er eeacae ee eteneroseeetis: 6 Third Voice Fourth Drowned Lord Cut-Glass Mr. Pugh Guide Book Voice Mr. Waldo Teresa Nichols wuss jetectes sete tates eracneto er nieces oe Mae Rose Cottage Mrs. Pugh Waldo’s Mother Mrs. Utah Watkins Mrs. Beynon MichaeliO;Ralko meee base eereaeee tack sre en ccoteere en Third Drowned Mog Edwards Rey. Eli Jenkins Mr. Pritchard Madeleine Pearsall ners mttice sconce tet stereos sac Myfanwy Price Mrs. Organ Morgan Mrs. Willy Nilly Mrs. Cherry Owen Bessie Bighead Joseph'S aimteyerces v-teuay crore ove choke a chore te ore cite otc strate eee Gaptain Gat Utah Watkins ICUTTWAIS 5 ox d6 since momo ooo soo DO GUS Oe Oe First Drowned Mr. Ogmore Dai Bread Butcher Beynon Nogood Boyo Jack Black DY 58 Jimmy Shine by Murray Schisgal staged by Robert J. Lacey THE CHARACTERS Jimmy Shine: 77)... )seee Charles Escamill Rosie Pitkin ... 5. eee Patti Londo Miss'Green.......4. 22. see Anne Bleic Elizabeth Evans .2.)2..) 2 Teri MeMin Constance Fry”... ©... eee Jann Jackso Michael Leon =. ; 5.52 eee Richard Halpi Sally Webber® 22. 330 3a Lin Sutherlan Man in Closet ..... ...5ss2 een Chris Hirse Lee Haines. . ....% 5.5 eee Elhott William Millie. ic... cc «sake oe Virginia Marsha _ Mr. Lepke........... 20 John Whit First. Man... ,).. sae eee Derly Ramire First! Woman. ..... «.- a0 eee Teresa Nichol Second Man — oases eee James O. Mgbejum — Second Woman. «... 2.5nee Jane Jarme ; | | Es: the second season of its summer : Good morning, apprentice program St. Edwards’ Mary Moody Northen Theatre featured Frank ® Sutton, the comical Set. Carter of tele- vision’s The Gomer Pyle Show, Mercedes McCambridge, Oscar award-winner for All The King’s Men, and Peter Breck, who The stars are bright deep in’ the heart of Texas during the Northen Theatre Played the son Nick in television's The summer apprentice programs. Big Valley with Barbara Stanwyck. Sutton was featured in the murder mystery Catch Me If You Can that played during the last two weeks of June. Miss McCambridge starred in the July pro- duction of Madwoman of Chaillot, the work of French playwright Jean Giraduoyx and an outstanding success in New York. Breck starred as a roguish character of the West who claims he can make rain in The Rainmaker, the last play of the summer season. Pernell Roberts, who starred in the Northen Theatre’s first apprentice pro- gram production, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, in 1972, had _ been expected back for 1973 until pressing committments forced him to cancel. Besides Roberts, 1972’s inaugural season of the program also featured Julie Adams and Carl Be tz. The apprentice program is designed ass Ss, oC dees s to give young stage aspirants a taste of professional theatre. Edward Mangum, the chairman of St. Edwards’ Department of Fine and Performing Arts and the creator of the program, explained: “The goal of most theatre arts majors in college is to work in professional theatre; the best way to learn to be a professional is, obviously, to work with one.” Courses each summer include per- formance technique, two seminars and projects in stagecraft. All work on the summer productions includes vocal and physical training and special work in acting, oral interpretation, voice and diction, creative movement, dance and pantomime. Apprentices are encouraged to audition for roles in the plays and are involved in all phases of theatre produc- tion, including costuming, props, sound and lighting, publicity and house manage- ment. According to Mangum the program “has proved highly successful. Weve had numerous inquiries from around the country about our ‘star program,’ and, of course, about our marvelous theatre itself.” Be a SES tay. Siggy eee ? CITT LICIETIL ILE ILL UT Jazz Ensemble 61 62 eo TTT Pe yeee errr ry rT rT er tp eee North-South Weekend 64 Nickel | Been ; ' at the Dome | The one night in the year when the fans will stumble more than the Astros. Always accommodating, the Astros gave fans time to get back with their beers before rallying for 3 runs in the 4th inning to the encouragement of Columbus’ Chris Stein. 25 23 35 44 31 21 36 14 4: 2u 1428212312 7191 RF F Cc 25 s| pl i BALL 0 {ASTROS St. Eds’ own Roger Metzger came to bat _ in that big 4th inning only to embarrass his fans, grounding out (right, and middle) to end the inning with the bases loaded. STRIKE OUT Af BAT AYE 0 42 100 ‘129 456 199 R oo 9 oo 0 1 ston 18 MOM JUST one gat vee ass | SORE. Out ue FiRaT piace i ‘RE HAT oes See cer eee ToMme League 67 fl @aeaaae se=s- Js? ee8e8e we twee vite ee teriiss Sa, S 1973 SEU Sweetheart Ana Orti | - S ® = o SS i= BS 2 Scans 8 SE D Pie ron) 2 2 3on en 2 Nie 1973 Man of the Year si eave rem Hil man ee ae aiedall 73 74 T h e Z OO SEU’s football champs were, in front, Tim MacCollum, Mare Stead, Jose Cabesus, Pete Ademski, Joe Kelly, and Mike Cates, and in back, Greg Walton, Mike Coz, Jesse Fowlkes, Tom McCloskey, Kinney Garcia, Mike Houpe, Mike Antonini, and Wayne Marlow. Terry Bauer, Nick Nichols, Tim Crowley and Wayne Mitchell joined MacCollum, McCloskey, Coz, Kelly, Walton, Marlow, and Garcia in the spring to win softball for T he A p ost les The Sadist-Fa ction The SEBA champs were, in front, Pete Stratton, John Graveel, Dale Schroeder, and Tim Gavin, and in back, Mark Quilter, John Stewart, Scott Alexander, and Mike Cronin. Not pictured are Larry Kleuser, Tim Peebles, John Fontana, Pete Gardner and the coach, Dan Schmotzer. The Sorry Ex C USE The champs of football and basketball were, in front, Chris Jackson, Kathy Kelly, Annette Edwards, and Kathy Phillipp, and in back, Pam Dettass, Sherry Smith, Kathy Moeller, Sylvia Poncik, and Nancy Neumann. Kevin O’Connor was the coach. Not pictured is Debbie Saucerman. tage f e . i) Billingsley’s Brewery the softan champs were, in front, Mary Fowler, Gigi Guerrero, Bobbie Morales, Debby Tamburine, and Janice Lindemann, and in back, Rosie Garza, Priscilla Hubenak, Laurito Putegnat, Lichie Martinez, and Mary Brady. Cy Billingsley was the coach. The First Among Us Equals Mary Fleming Intramural thletes of the Year Nick Nichols 75 You say hello, say goodbye It was no song and dance that Joe Beck was playing when he traded back his gold watch for diaper pins after a season when he | ; needed both. a = ete 76 TY ou probably can’t blame Joe Beck if he didn’t know whether he was going or coming “this spring; it was that kind of year. It was the kind of year that saw only four seniors ‘on his 15-man Hilltopper squad swelled by the phasing out of the JV team. Five of his _ Toppers were juniors, but only one of them, the fabulous Zeke Everett, had anything besides JV experience, and the other six Hilltoppers were all freshmen. Everett led the Big State Conference in scoring and again was a shoo-in for the All-Conference first team, but for everybody else it was a i year to learn together. The lessons came hard more often than _ easy. Beck’s youngsters did show remarkable poise for their age in close ball games, _ winning four of the nine that were decided by four points or less, but most of their games were not that close. That presented lesson master Beck with a sticky problem. | | He could let his troops run with superior ball clubs and suffer humiliating defeats, or he could risk over-disciplining their enthusiasm and stay close by stalling the ball. He knew, of course, of the criticism a stall always prompts from bored fans, and he knew as well what a stall did to Everett’s chances in the conference scoring race. So he did a little of both, while he emphasized what he knows best: defense. His Hilltoppers played slow- down without a whimper when asked, perhaps mindful of the convincing demon- stration delivered by Howard Payne. After squeaking past St. Eds’ stall 40-38 at the season’s start, they crushed a running | Topper club 103-69 three weeks later. - But Beck’s lessons on defense did eventually begin to take hold, so that his ‘running Hilltoppers were able to repay a disgraceful 95-59 whipping by South- western’s Pirates in Austin with a stunning 84-81 upset in Georgetown that knocked Southwestern out of the Big State Confer- _) ence race. However, the explanation of that South- western series and the other good things that happened to the Hilltoppers lies beyond strategy and on the broad shoulders of Zeke Everett, who bore the load of three men, the graduated John Minne, Bob Lucash, and Al Priestley. The Fabulous Frosh of 1971, after 1973 Zeke had established solid credentials for All-American consideration in 1974. Senior Rich Bohac shouldered some of the a ‘marry ae ee eee load under the boards with Everett, but it was his hustling defense that was particu- larly invaluable to a Joe Beck club. The scene stealer, however, of the 1973 Hill- toppers was freshman Greg Moore, who thrilled fans with his raw and reckless abandon all over the floor, St. Eds’ own unpolished Earl the Pearl. After his Toppers closed out the season on a high note by blasting Huston- Tillotson, 108-98, Beck announced that he was going. After seven seasons with St. Edward’s he was retiring from coaching to devote full time to his duties as director of the career planning office. That lasted just about three months, until the May announcement that he was coming. Beck would resume his coaching duties at least for a year while the search for a suitable replacement continued. It was that kind of year for the career planning office. Ui MVP Zeke Everett Freshman Greg Moore, winner, in an under- statement, of the 1973 Hustle Award. Tom Wilde, the Most Improved Hilltopper Ron Whitney 79 2) fo.) 1972—73 Basketball (8—16) TexasA I Howard Payne SW Texas State 70—84. 38—40 99-52 Sul Ross Tournament Sul Ross Western New Mexico Texas Wesleyan 75—83 80—67 63-61 Cowtown Tournament Texas Wesleyan Le Tourneau Howard Payne 56—58 76-75 69—103 Texas Lutheran Tournament McMurray Le Tourneau Huston-Tillotson St. Mary’s Texas Lutheran Le Tourneau East Texas Baptist Southwestern St. Mary’s Texas Lutheran Southwestern Texas Wesleyan Le Tourneau East Texas Baptist 62—76 65—71 70-71 32—38 56—72 66—65 70—76 99-95 38—53 4A5—4.7 84—81 59—78 70—56 57-61 Huston-Tillotson 108—98 Big State Conference game Rich Bohac, winner of the defense award and SEU’S Top Scholar-athlete. 81 Don’t hire ours, just fire yours| There would have been no coach to fire if SEU’s golfers had missed the cul in 1973, but they won the confer- ence anyway. Atound the Big State Conference in 1973 there must have been a lot of worried golf coaches. At the Big State Conference Meet in San Antonio St. Edwards’ Hilltoppers demonstrated how important their job is to golf. And that’s why they were worried. The coachless Hilltoppers’ 922 team total was good enough to beat the defending Big State champions from Southwestern, who finished at 929. David Watkins of Southwestern claimed medalist honors with a 222, but the Hilltoppers came in with Tom Lanfer and Mike Houpe each at 228, and Houpe’s 73 stood as the best round recorded on the par 72 course. Houpe was honored at season's end as the Most Valuable Player by his teammates . 82 The 1973 Big State Conference Golf Champions Kneeling, Greg Crook and Jimmy Crowther. Standing, Steve Domitrowits, Greg Pratka, Tom Lanfer, Wayne Mitchell, and Mike Houpe. Se | old show that toured the Big State Conference. Make that five in a row and 14 Big State Conference championships in the last 15 years for Brother Emmett Strohmeyer’s tennis express. Year to year the story has stayed the same while only the faces seemed to change. Sweeping through yet another Big Hill- toppers featured one new face, singles champion Trey King of Brooklyn, and mixed something old with something new in doubles champions John Waddell, the 3-year and 1973 MVP, and State Conference Tournament the Miami letterman John Whitmire. In that singles competition King trimmed Fred Sandel of St. Mary’s 7-6, 6-3, and Waddell beat James Fisher 6-2, 6-3, to set up the all-SEU finals in which King defeated Waddell. In doubles the finals became an all-SEU affair again when Waddell and Whitmire battled by Sandel and Brady of St. Mary’s 2-6, 6-4, 6-2, before they defeated their teammates King and Bob Dyer 8-7 for the title. John Waddell, (above) 1973 BSC doubles champion. Trey King, 1973 BSC singles champion and winner of the 2nd annual Emmett Strohmeyer Award for Sportsmanship. The face seems familiar. . Or does it? Brother Emmett threw in some new characters, but it was the same John Whitmire, champion. 1973 BSC doubles 83 84 Till the last man is out The game wasn't over for Southwestern University in the Big State Conference Zone Playoff, and so St. Edwards’ two-year reign as Big State Champions was. Ask a lot of coaches who that one man is they need to really set their club and they ll tell you it’s the guy who can power one 400 feet. Ask Tom Hamilton in 1973 and he’d have told you the guy who could drop one down about 30 feet. Hamilton certainly needed him when a disastrous mid-season road trip brought his winging Hilltoppers crashing to earth for lack of that one timely hit or strategic bunt in the throes of an 8-game losing streak that included six one-run losses. St. Ed’s went from 10-5 to 10-13, and when three weeks of April rain washed out three doubleheaders and most of the Big State Conference South Zone schedule, Hamilton’s shell-shocked Toppers entered a crucial week of three Big State makeup doubleheaders stale and flat from their layoff. Stull, they swept the Huston-Tillotson and Texas Lutheran twin bills, and salvaged the second game at San Antonio with St. Mary’s to wrap up the South Zone and earn the right to defend their Big State title against North Zone champ Southwestern. The Pirates’ Steve Wenzel handcuffed the Toppers on 3 hits to beat Hamilton’s ace, John Boatright, in the opener of the 3-game playoff series at St. Edward’s, but Bobby Ingram went from goat to hero when his 2-run 6th inning inside-the-park homer won the afternoon’s second game. But while Hamilton could get a homer when he needed it, he still couldn’t get a 30 foot squeeze bunt in the first inning of game 3, and a big inning was choked off that could have put the Pirates away. Vance Porfirio and Ralph Ferguson drew. leadoff walks, and after a foul out, Jerry Lasponara doubled Porfirio home, leaving runners on 2nd and 3rd with one gone. Hamilton flashed the suicide squeeze sign, but the bunt was missed and Seale was a goner at the Plate. A pop out then ended the inning and Southwestern had wrigeled off the hook. St. Ed’s added a cheapie in the 4th. Pete Castle’s infield dying quail fell in for a hit, and after Castle stole second Sanso drove him home with his second hit. Meanwhile, Rick Wagner struggled through eight innings, keeping himself in trouble by falling behind batters and scattering four walks with Southwestern’s four hits, but he had shut out the Pirates, with the help of a double — i? play in the 8th inning. Then the disastrous 9th. Always an omen of trouble, Wagner walked the first man, and then an error and a base hit loaded the bases. Pete Castle’s fine pickup and throw on that hit pre- vented a run from scoring, but his effort was wasted when Wagner walked it in on four pitches to the next batter. Tony Konderla came on for Wagner and retired the next batter on a short pop to right to preserve the 2-1 edge, but where the Toppers had failed in the first inning the Pirates succeeded. Brian Hill, the substitute for starting Southwestern catcher Pat Loter who had been ejected in the 5th inning, pushed a perfect squeeze bunt toward 3rd, scoring the tying run, and then the lead run scored when Konderla threw wildly to first. Vance Porfirio kept St. Eds’ hopes alive with two out in the Topper half of the ninth, showing how smart a batter he was when he drew a walk after refusing to nible on junk with two strikes. Southwestern was ready when Porfirio broke for second, but the pickoff attempt was misplayed and St. Ed’s was very much alive. But Porfirio died there at second and the Toppers had suffered the most bitter of their one-run defeats in 1973. 85 ee Tom Hamilton, the University of Texas Hall of Famer in his 14th season with the Hilltoppers, named Rudy Ramirez as the 3rd recipient of his Hammy Award. Dennis Seale, the club RBI leader, was selected the Most Valuable Player by his teammates. 87 88 The Batgirls; In front is Becky Wark. Standing are Debbie Sanderson, Terri Harrison, and Chris Jackson. The 1973 Big State Conference South Zone Champions First row (Lr), Bobby Ingram, Joe Capora, Rick Wagner, Heimie Tovar, Billy Kubiak, Denny Fehl. Second row, Zeke Everett, Ed Powell, Rudy Ramirez, Vance Porfirio, Buddy Brizendine, Tim Perales, Rick Lindell, Ron Hartman, Ed Huck. Last row, Manager David Hunsacker, Assistant Coach John Knorr, Dennis Seale, Rick Sanso, Pete Castle, John Boatright, Jerry Lasponara, Tony Konderla, Ralph Ferguson, Bill Richen- stein, Coach Tom Hamilton. 1973 Baseball (17-19) Southwestern Trinity Trinity Southern Methodist Southern Methodist Fort Hood Fort Hood Fort Hood Huston-Tillotson NE Missouri State NE Missouri State Texas Lutheran NE Missouri State NE Missouri State NE Missouri State Hardin-Simmons Hardin-Simmons Trinity Trinity Pan American Pan American Pan American Pan American Rice Rice Rice Rice Huston-Tillotson Huston-Tillotson Texas Lutheran Texas Lutheran St. Mary’s St. Mary’s Big State Conference Playoff Southwestern Southwestern Southwestern Big State Conference game DN ON BRK UK WeKe WDD 92 The Zoo, like the Dolphins in the NFL, picked a most unlikely year to reign unbeaten in the SEFL. Above is one reason why they shouldn’t have, Nick Nichols, one of the Tuf-Nuts; above right is another, Drake Torrado of the pesky Henways; and at the right is a third, Mike Thoennes of the unpredictable Leper Colony. There were several more reasons as well why the Zoo shouldn’t have, and yet they did. The Winner and still Champion Amazing no one, surprising no one, and certainly upsetting no one, the Zoo goes undefeated for its first asterisk-less championship. | erotably the most curious and frustrating thing a sports champion quickly learns is how often it must continue to prove itself. In 1972 the Zoo was setting out in quest of its third consecutive SEFL championship, ample enough credential for finally establishing it the preseason favorite, but there were still those who questioned the authenticity of that credential. The Tuf-Nuts were one of those with doubts, having twice lost to the Zoo era in the playoffs. After the particularly bitter frustration of 1971’s 24-14 loss to the Zoo, the Tuf-Nuts, who having added a large contingent from the Canadian Club were now officially the Tuf-Nuts Canadian Club, felt they had much to prove in 1972. They _ didn’t prove much opening day, however, ii a miserable 19-0 whitewashing by a measurably strengthened Organized Confusion. The surprise team of early season, the _ Confusion cruised through its first six games | 5 3 . _ unbeaten, allowing but six points along the revealed good and bad news about the way. A 6-0 victory over the Henways | Confusion’s eventual playoff hopes. First the _ good news; they won on a six yard strike to John Barbick on 4th down with twenty seconds left to win the sort of game they used to lose. But the bad news was the uncharacteristic friction they displayed which was to destroy a promising season. When the Tuf-Nuts beat O. C. in their second meeting, the Confusion never won an | important game thereafter. = ee The Tuf-Nuts took over first place with that victory over O. C. and methodically clinched the AFC title on the sure passing arm and cool head of Kevin Burns, the SEFL passing leader. Bobby Semptimphelter was gone, yet the Nuts still exceeded their remarkable scoring pace of 1971 with nearly 30 points a game, and only the Zoo allowed its opponents fewer points. When Organized Confusion began its fade when the schedule stiffened, 1972’s genuine surprise team emerged from the dust of one of the season’s most exciting ball games. The Magic Co. edged the Bears 15-14 in the rubber match of a three game series that eventually determined the wild card representative in the playoffs. Really, the Magic Co. should have snuck up on no one after they forced the Zoo to scramble to a win by penetrations in their opener. But this was the lowly Banchy A’s group of 1971 which won 4 of 28 games. However, the competent battery of quarterback Peyton Turk and Tim Gavin, with Luis Perez anchoring a solid defense, turned the club around and when they edged the Bears the second time they were in the 1972 SEFL Standings AEG W Tuf-Nuts Can. Club 13 Organized Confusion ll Delta Sigma Pi 9 MeE_LG: 3 Henways 2, NFC Zoo Magic Co. Bears Leper Colony Mangum’s Marauders Play off: Tuf-Nuts C.C. 30, Magic Co. 17 Championship: driver’s seat. A three game losing streak at season’s end was nearly fatal, but when the Tuf-Nuts defeated Organized Confusion and the Zoo crushed the Bears on the last day, the Magic Co. earned the wild card entry, having beaten O. C. in their only meeting of the year, and the Bears two out of three in that season’s series. Zoo 25, Tuf-Nuts Canadian Club 12 93 94 Nick Nichols and John Barbick caught second half touchdown passes from Kevin Burns to spark the AFC (right) to a come-from-behind victory over the NFC in the 1972 All Star game. The NFC led 6-0 at the half on Kenny Garcia’s 3 yard lob to Bill Jakotowicz, and Garcia found Tom McCloskey from the one with two minutes remaining to tie at 12-12, but when the conversion failed the AFC had it won, 4 penetrations to 3. In back are Mike Barrett, Gary Kudrna, Jim McGrory, Mark White, Ed Daeger, Mike Toomey, Mike Jachimezyk, Terry Bauer, Nick Nichols, John Barbick, and Mark McDermott. In front are Joe Maguire, Kevin Burns, Dominic Cappelli, Rod Tieken, Joe Capuano, and Ted McGorty. Not pictured is Wayne Mitchell. The Magic Co. was relieved to just be in the playoffs, but the Tuf-Nuts had dead aim on the Zoo, and their 30-17 pasting of the Magic Co. showed it. Burns completed better than 50% of his passes as six different Tuf-Nuts scored. Turk barely completed a third of his passes, and only drove for the Company’s second touchdown on the last play of the game. The preliminaries disposed of, the Tuf- Nuts readied at last for the only game of the year. It was a matchup to delight any purist. Kenny Garcia helmed the second best offense in the SEFL and Pete Ademski called the shots for the loop’s premier defense. When Garcia grew tired of throwing to Tom McCloskey and Tim MacCollum, there were Mike Cates or Mike Antonini for screens. When Ademski wasn’t blitzing, Joe Kelly was applying the pressure of three men and Mare Stead was playing his own brand of zone defense that looked like man-to- man. What it all added up to was a statis- tician’s delight and a bettor’s nightmare— the first offense against the first defense while the Nuts had the ball, and the second offense against the second defense when the Zoo had it. True to sports tradition defense won the ballgame as Mare Stead killed two deep threats and Jesse Fowlkes another with in- terceptions in the end zone. Stead’s first theft was perhaps the most important for it followed Rodney Tieken’s theft of Garcia’s first pass to set the Tuf-Nuts up for an early lead. In fact, the Nuts stole three of Garcia’s first four passes, yet they were not able to seize the initiative. The half ended 6-6, and some of the starch was gone from the Tuf- Nuts. If one play broke their backs it was a weirdie early in the second half. Garcia hit his safety valve Jose Cabesas over the middle for 17 yards, when Cabesas then lateraled to Tom McCloskey who stepped down the side- line 35 more yards to complete a 52 yard TD strike. The Nuts looked desperately for flags or a whistle indicating a tag, but there were none, and the dam broke shortly. Cates squeezed a 17 yard TD strike and Cabesas a 9 yarder, and the Zoo had completed their perfect season. For the first time in three years the headlines would speak, not of the upset winner, but simply of the champion. DS Ohhh Vince! Say it ain't so! Striking their own blow for jock’s lib, a group of very liberated females wins the girls’ football title. 96 Tes always been a source of solace in defeat for frustrated athletes that “nice guys finish last.” While Muhammed Ali was heavyweight champ, it was still Floyd Patterson whom the people loved, and while the slick Yankees won every pennant in sight, New Yorkers still loved their Bums from Brooklyn. But now the Mets have won a pennant, Lee Trevino a million dollars, John Wooden an entire decade, and, yes, the Sorry Excuse has won the girls’ 1972 intramural football championship. The Sorry Excuse? Indeed, the disrespectfully precocious, irre- presibly mischievous Sorry Excuse. The ideal sports story should now detail how, after successive early season losses to the rival Lime Crush and Yur Gang, the Excuse put it together in the clutch to win their last six in a row. Sort of “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” That would be ideal except that it isn’t true. Excuse coach Kevin O’Connor’s dramatic, post- game, closed-door address to his athletes after the Yur Gang defeat went something like, “Well, you played the best you could; I’m really proud of you. When’s our next game?” It wasn’t Vince Lombardi speaking. And clutch performance? The biggest chal- lenge the Excuse faced in its two rematches with another irrepresible crew, Yur Gang, was seeing which team could have more fun. It’s just biologi- cally impossible to choke up while laughing. Exaggeration? Perhaps a little, but it serves to emphasize the key ingredient that won a championship for maybe only the second or third most talented club in the league. The Sorry Excuse had in fact negoti- ated a very formidable uphill climb after Yur Gang, having been upset by the Circus, neverthe- less retained first place by edging the Excuse on penetrations in a scoreless thriller in the season’: third week. The Circus and Goober Snatchers were” to provide no more upsets, and so the title race became a round robin affair between the Excuse, Yur Gang, and Lime Crush. Mary Fleming, top, of Lime Crush led all scorers in 1972 with 56 points. Annette Edwards, next page, right, of Sorry Excuse followed with 48, and Yur Gang’s Bobbie Morales, opposite page, was third with 42 points. In the second round the Excuse shut out Yur Gang again 7-0 and squeezed by Lime Crush 8-6, while Lime Crush beat Yur Gang, to climb into the lead by one game. But their capacity for clutch per- formance had barely been tested, it turned out, in light of the remarkable test still ahead. At 7-3 Yur Gang still trailed Sorry Excuse (at 8-2) by one game, with two remaining for each club. A loss would eliminate Yur Gang, but a victory would virtually clinch at least a tie for first. All three contenders would then have three losses, and while Yur Gang’s last game was with the winless Goober Snatchers, either the Sorry Excuse or Lime Crush would be eliminated in their head-to-head showdown the last day of the season. Yur Gang struck quickly in the first half while coach O’Connor and quarter- back Annette Edwards were among the missing for the Excuse. The Excuse twice halted Gang drives, but Mary Fowler finally hit Mary Brady on fourth down for the Gang’s first touchdown. Rosie Garza squeezed the two point conversion and the Gang was winging. On the en- suing series Fowler intercepted one of Kathy Kelly’s floaters and sped 25 yards for a second score. When Bobbie Morales grabbed a tipped pass for another two point conversion, the rout was on. Coach and quarterback were on hand for the Excuse at the start of the second half, but Fowler fashioned a superb seventy yard drive that consumed fully six minutes. However the Excuse slithered off the ropes and stopped the Gang on downs, preserving what little hope they had left. Edwards finally got her offense moving several series later, hitting five straight passes before center Sylvia Poncik snuck open in the end zone to put the Excuse on the scoreboard at last with two and a half minutes left, but when the conversion failed Yur Gang was still very much in command 16-6 in the gathering twilight. However, Yur Gang inexplicably failed to run out the clock and gave the ball back on a short punt. From the 25 Edwards hit Nancy Neuman for ten yards, and then Chris Jackson was interferred with in the end zone, setting up a one yard lob to Kathy Phillipp for another touchdown. The conver- sion brought the Excuse within 16-14 with under two minutes left. Still Yur Gang failed to take advantage of the clock as two clock-stopping passes fell incomplete. But a search for Mary Fowler’s lost contact lens consumed some very valua- ble time nonetheless as twilight faded into darkness. A third down pass fell incomplete when play resumed and Yur Gang had to give the ball back again with thirty seconds left. Annette Edwards launched a prayer into the darkness and it settled in Kathy Kelly’s arms in the back corner of the end zone, and stunningly, impossibly, Yur Gang was counted out by a punch it hadn’t even seen. Lime Crush remained, but what chance did mere athletes have against the winners of the Fiesta Bowl? The Crush completely dominated the first half, but could only wrest a penetration lead for its efforts, and when Annette Edwards raced thirty yards to score with an errant Crush pass, the Excuse snapped out of the trance that lingered from their miracle with Yur Gang. They began to move the ball at will, but the Lime Crush would not be put away. Jeanne Frank inter- cepted Edwards in the end zone, and twice Peggy Kucera, Eileen Walsh, and Mary Fleming sparked goaline stands to keep the Crush alive. However, with Walsh limited to one second half completion in 14 attempts by the rush of Debbie Saucerman and Sherry Smith, Edwards’ 30 yard gallup through the Crush secondary for a second score finally settled the issue. Of course it would now be ideal to re- port O’Connor’s post game remarks about Camelot and how fortunate he felt to win. Naturally he admitted instead, “We de- serve it!” Vince Lombardi might even let slip a grin at that. O7 1972 All-Stars Standing (1-r) Mary Brady, Marie Slavik, | Eileen Fegan, Mary Fleming, Mary Stevenson, Jenni Vickers, Rosie Garza. Kneeling (I-r) Gigi Guerrero, Jackie Jensen, Bobbie Morales, Peggy Kucera, Janice Lindemann, Eileen Walsh, Cindy Pedrosa, Debbie Bohac. Seated is Mary Fowler; John Barbick coached the All-Stars, who lost to the Champion Sorry Excuse. Sorry Excuse 2, Yur Gang Goal 39 AZ. Lime Crush 8 4 110 60 Circus 3 9 30 164 Goober Snatchers ie ah 100 Just can’t get no Sadist-Faction Fresh from the high school prom another group of kids snitches an SEBA title, but not before making old men of their coach and fans. Despite appearances here, the Sadist-F action cruised to their SEBA title on disciplined offense based on excellent shooters like Tim Gavin (with left arm extended), and cohesive defense based on mobile scrappers like John Stewart (number 35). Witten Mary Lynn Weber stepped up at the 1972 Athletic Banquet to present trophies to the 1972 SEBA Champions she succinctly if not fancily described the Canadian Club as “‘a bunch of new guys.” In 1973 the youngsters quickly became old men as another new bunch in town put tradition and experience to shame again in the SEBA. They called themselves the Sadist- Faction, and appropriately so it seemed early as Scott Alexander’s whiz kids flop- ped to season opening losses to the Super- bads and Kickers, the latter loss coming in overtime after the Faction allowed the Kickers to tie the contest with the free throw from a technical foul. The loss to the Kickers was particularly important because, since the Faction was seeded one slot higher than the Kickers, they faced a far more diffi- cult schedule. Four games with eventual playoff participants remained in addition to a rematch with the Kickers. The Sadist-Fac- tion also lost Alexander for the season to an ankle injury in that Kickers loss, which left only Dale Schroeder, one of the few Cana- dian Clubbers who didn’t play for the Delta Sigs, the only veteran on the club. But neither the schedule nor experience was a factor as the Sadist-Faction swept through their remaining 14 games unbeaten, punctuating their drive for first place in the | : | ABA with a heart-stopping 57-55 victory over the Superbads in their last one on _ Tim Gavin’s 30-footer at the buzzer. | J 4 wae While the Faction was cruising through the ABA, the Delta Sigs, a collec- tion of the strangest of bedfellows, were struggling to live up to their pre-season potential. Under the brotherly umbrella of the business frat the former adversaries cof the 1972 playoffs came together to create the league's deepest and potential- ly most talented club. Around a core of Terry Bauer and Greg Walton of 1972’s unbeaten Apostles were the heart of the (1972 Canadian Club squad that upset ‘them 2-0 in those playoffs, Bill Jakotowicz, Carlos Barrera, and Notcho ‘Garza, and first class newcomers Bob Burke and Tim MacCollum. But of the six games the Delta Sigs played against even- ‘tual playoff participants they lost five. � championship. They never seemed to make the shotgun wed- ding work, and even though they finally man- aged to beat a cdtky Sadist-Faction once in the playoffs after frittering away a 28 point lead, they were eliminated by the Faction, the most cohesive and disciplined team in the league. The Establishment swept to their Big State Conference title as expected behind Hilltopper ex’s Mike Skaer and Bob Lucash, and after fool- ishly allowing themselves to be forced to run with the Superbads in their first playoff game, Skaer subdued the panicky and paranoid Bads with a little help from friends Glenn Hinkle and Joe Koenig. It was the third year of -playoff frustration for the Superbads. The Sadist-Faction was probably the best team the students could have sent against the Establishment for the championship series. While like the Superbads and Delta Sigs the Faction probably preferred to run, they could be disciplined as well, possessing the best Staging their own personal season within a season, the Mike Coz (left)—Glenn Hinkle (right, without the ball) rivalry provided some of 1973’s most dramatic moments. Mike edged the Doc 16.1 to 15.9 for scoring honors, and in the One-on-One matchup of the year, Coz bested Hinkle on his way to the 1973 One-on-One shooters in the SEBA in Schroeder, Mark Quilter, and Tim Gavin, and rugged re- bounders in Mike Cronin and lanky John Stewart. Larry Kleuser, Pete Stratton, and John Graveel provided excellent bench strength, which was often needed in the longer championship games when Stewart, particularly, got in foul trouble. Young they were, however, and when they recovered from a 9 point deficit at half time to edge the Establish- ment 59-58 in the first game, the brashness which had cost them the sec- ond game of their series with the Delta Sigs returned with disastrous results again. In game two Mike Skaer was abso- lutely unstoppable as he poured in 41 points, and with Joe Koenig adding 25 more with his patented fall-forward jumper, the Establishment blew the Sadist-Faction off the floor with a 31-11 tear over an eight minute span early in the second half enroute to a crushing 103-79 cakewalk. While they picked up the pieces of ceiling laying around them the Sadist-Faction also contemplated the loss of Tim Gavin for the championship game due to long-scheduled surgery for Gavin’s ankle. It was an uncharacteristically sober group that warmed up for the Sadist- Faction before game three. This might have meant they were tight and a little panicky, but if they were theyshook it off quickly when they found that two men could slow Skaer down and that they could still shoot even without Gavin. The game’s first basket may have been the most important one, a dandy 25-footer swished by Schroeder. A shot or two off the rim at the start might well have fin- ished the Sadist-Faction right there. With two men glued to him Skaer was held to 20 points, which left Doc Hinkle freer to work his driving hooks across the lane, and gave Joe Koenig and Lucash plenty of room to work. But although these three all scored in double figures, the Sadist-Faction had kept the game under control, letting their superior shooting build a 73-62 edge with 1:27 left. Schroeder had poured in 17 points, Mark Quilter 19, and super sub John Graveel had added loads of hustle plus his 13 points. But the Faction relaxed a little early and had to hang on grimly while the Estahlishment’s desperate press reeled off eight quick points. They weren’t quick enough, however, to beat the clock, which ran out on the grownups to pre- serve the generation gap at three. 101 102 1973 SEBA Standings ABA Sadist-Faction Superbads Kickers S.A. Henways Brass Balls Organized Confusion Mother Truckers NBA Establishment Delta Sigs Los Spoilers Omega Sigma Psi VST be Gluttons Playoftfs: Sadist-Faction 68, Delta Sigs 57 Delta Sigs 66, Sadist-Faction 63 Sadist-Faction 65, Delta Sigs 55 Superbads 76, Establishment 50 Establishment 66, Superbads 60 Establishment 58, Superbads 50 Championship: Sadist-Faction 59, Establishment 58 Establishment 103, Sadist-Faction 79 Sadist-Faction 73, Establishment 70 The NBA All-Stars defeated the ABA Stars 56-42 to earn SEU’s berth in the 2nd Annual St. Edward’s University Extramural Tourna- ment. They outlasted Southwest Texas State 105-103 in overtime to keep the tournament trophy at St. Edward’s for a second year. Seated are the trainer Oscar Gomez, Nick Nichols, Carlos Barrera, Notcho Garza, Kevin Noonan, Mike Coz, Bob Burke, and coach Tom McCloskey. In front are Joe Kelly, Bill Jakotowicz, Tim MacCollum, Greg Walton, Mike Garcia, and Glenn Hinkle. Not pictured are Terry Bauer and Joe Koenig, whose places were taken by ABAers Nichols and Coz. 103 By George! think they’ve got it! | Or so everyone concurred in suspicious bemusement as O’Connor’s fair ladies risked innocence and lovability by winning their second intramural champtonship. 104 | | Belionestly! It made for a believable story once, but it may be more difficult to make it stick a second time. Oh, people really did love it the first time, the whole idea of a bunch of giddy females beating out all those serious athletes in football. But now in basketball too? “Who are these ringers?” the people began to ask. “Golly, this is remarkable!” Sorry Excuse coach Kevin O’Connor was over- heard discussing his strategy. ‘Why are they doing these things to us?”’ they asked. “Okay, has everybody gotten a chance to play yet?” O’Connor was overheard. “Do they remind you of the old Knockers?” they asked. “Awright, let’s tone down the heckling shall we!’ O’Connor was overheard. Yes, that’s right, it wasn’t Vince Lombar—, er, that is, Adolph Rupp speak- ing. American sports fans have been asked to believe a lot of fantastic things lately, like Mark Spitz can really act, like the unbeat- able Dolphins were really underdogs to the Over The Hill Gang, or like baseball really has a commissioner, so maybe they can believe that the Sorry Excuse could really win two intramural titles without losing their, well, Sorry Excuseness. They were still disrespectfully pre- cocious. And irrepressibly mischievous. And O’Connor still wasn’t Vince Lom-, er, Adolph Rupp. The trouble is that the Sorry Excuse apparently missed the lesson the Mets learned in 1969. The Mets haven’t won a pennant since and the people still believe in them. Apparently O’Connor wasn’t Yogi Berra either. For Billingsley’s Brewery, except for a name change (“Yur Gang” having been dropped in honor of their charismatic coach), things were also pretty much the same. So it follows that not much was different when the Excuse and Brewery met for the rubber game of their season’s series. Again a championship was on the line and again the Sorry Excuse won it in reward of another desperate comeback. In a seesaw game no one ever led by more than three until the Brewery spurted ahead by five with 1:10 left. Of course that was their fatal mistake because it was miracle time again for the Sorry Excuse. Chris Jackson’s free throw in the last half minute brought the Excuse back within a point, and then Kathy Kelly’s 10-footer regained the lead for go od when Mary Fowler’s desperate 40-footer caromed off the rim at the buzzer. Annette Edwards’ 16 points practi- cally neutralized Fowler’s game-high 18, so the big shooters were not the deciding factor this evening. Defense was, and while hustle and positioning by Brewery guards Janice Lindemann, Marie Slavik, and Mary Brady kept the Excuse within reach, the Excuse’s Sylvia Poncik was giving the Brewery forwards only one shot, and it is difficult to win from the outside alone. Yet the Brewery almost pulled it off. Which would have saved O’Connor some explaining. 1973 Girls’ Basketball Sorry Excuse B’ing’y’s Brewery Lime Crush Knockers Hillbottoms Circus In one of the season’s most engaging games Kevin O’Connor’s Red All-Stars held off a late rally to defeat Dave Gifford’s Blue All-Stars in overtime, 26-19. Above in the back row are Jeanne Stringer, who played brilliantly in the clutch, Janice Lindemann, Diane Gregg, Sylvia Poncik, and O’Comnor. In front are Peggy Kucera, MVP Mary Fowler, Annette Edwards, and Rosemary McNally. For the Blues Mary Fleming starred at forward and Jackie Jensen was intimidating on defense. 105 An easy Nut to crack The Apostles repeat as softball champions when the Tuf-Nuts embarrass them- selves again. 106 Ik was 1970 and five minutes remained in an SEFL playoff game between the legend- ary Hoopshooters and some flashy freshman team. The Shooters led 13-0 with their gaze set on the real business of the coming cham- pionship game, when the freshmen scored twice to stun the defending champs 14-13 and earn the berth in that game. The Zoo handled the starry-eyed youngsters easily, but they had served notice of great things to come from the Tuf-Nuts. Sadly, in 1973 people were still awaiting great things from the Tuf-Nuts after they were obliterated in a championship game for the fifth time since that proud afternoon in 1970. The curious fact about sports is that it’s better to finish third (or even last!) than second, because people do not perceive a third place team as having choked in the clutch. And they’re right. A third place team did its choking in very ordinary circum- stances. The Tuf-Nuts faced no ordinary task in tackling the defending champion Apostles in arematch of the 1972 SEL World Series. Joe Kelly was still the second best pitcher in the league, and through the left side he was sup- ported by Terry Bauer at third, Tom Mc- Closkey at short, Mike Coz in left, Tim Mac- Collum in center, and Nick Nichols at rover. MacCollum (.433) and McCloskey (.384) were the league’s leading hitters, and Mc- Closkey was third in RBI’s. But the Tuf-Nuts were in the best shape they’d ever been. The left side of their in- field with Rodney Tieken at third and Bobby Semptimphelter at short might have had a quickness edge on the Apostles, and the Tuf-Nuts boasted unquestionably the best pitcher in the league in Kevin Burns. It was Burns who had shut out the National League All-Stars almost by himself; seven times the Nationals grounded back to Burns, which was no fluke against the pitcher who probably averaged five assists a game. Walk- ing less than ten men all season, Burns’ out- standing control of his high arcing pitches kept hitters in the hole, inviting all those easy nubbers back to the box or to the left side. Most important of all, however, the Tuf-Nuts seemed to have overcome the in- ternal friction that had destroyed them in four previous championship contests. During their important Longest Day doubleheader with the Cascades the Nuts displayed re- markable composure while outlasting the Cascades in 14 innings in the first game be- fore they shut them out in the second to sweep their only challenger and lock up first place in the American League. Incidentally, the Longest Day was the day THREE important games were decided in extra innings. After the Nuts and Cascades finished their 14 innings, the Apostles took 10 to subdue the stubborn Henways, and then the Sadist-Faction, who had virtually been eliminated from playoff contention when upset by Organized Confusion, and the Magic Co. went 24 innings before the Com- pany won a game crucial to them. The win kept alive the Company’s chances of cap- turing 2nd place the next day in the game with the Cascades, but the Cascades scored twice in the last of the 7th to eliminate the Company, 4-3. When the Tuf-Nuts edged the Cascades and the Apostles crunched the Jocks to dispose quickly of the playoffs, the Nuts had their second championship rematch of the year. But just as the Zoo had shattered the Nuts’ fragile composure in the fall with its For the trivia fans, Louie Perez (below) was the 143rd and last out of the historic 24 inning game won by the Magic Co., 1-0, over the Sadist-Faction. The second out in the last of the 24th, Perez grounded to 2nd. Jim Krajenta and Joe Brezik then reached on errors, and Peyton Turk’s single scored Kra- jenta to end a 7-hour afternoon of softball that had begun with 10 and 14 inning games. flea-flicker touchdown pass, so in similar fashion did the Apostles win the World Series in the spring with one inning. After 3 innings of the first game the Tuf-Nuts were clinging to a hard-earned 3-2 lead when the roof fell in. The Apostles pushed across four runs, the crowning blow delivered by Greg Walton’s 2-run homer, and from here on the Nuts played in a daze. The Apostles won game one, 6-3, and while the Tuf-Nuts looked on in detatched interest, they won the second game too, 6-0, just to make it official. Indicative of the Tuf-Nuts frustration was Semptimphelter’s senseless attempt to stretch his leadoff single in the 7th inning of the second game after a short over- throw, and Rodney Tieken’s careless baserunning an out later. Both men were tagged out, and the Tuf-Nuts counted out. Apostles Terry Bauer (left) and Kenney Garcia (right) look concerned about Joe Kelly’s (center) pitching, but after the 3rd inning of the first game it was the Tuf-Nuts who were concerned as Kelly shut them out the rest of the way while Kevin Burns inexplicably struggled. 107 1973 SEL Standings American Tuf-Nuts Cascades Magic Co. Sadist-Faction Organized Confusion Whoopie Cushions Ringers NK ON UN —_——_ National Apostles Jocks Henways Latin Lovers Omega Sigma Psi La Familia Playoffs: Tuf-Nuts 4, Cascades 3 Apostles 9, Jocks 3 World Series: Apostles 6, Tuf-Nuts 3 Apostles 6, Tuf-Nuts 0 108 109 + Se Eek Se It happens every spring! This year the sun didn’t shine and the blue- bonnets weren't as thick, but the sounds of spring were still to be heard anyway. Ab, the sounds of spring! They’re a delight to the soul! Not the chirping of birds or the buzzing of in- sects, but something else at St. Edward’s. Like Terri Harrison’s incredulous, “That’s a crock of ! ? ,” at a strike call, or Denise Paquette’s terrified screech at an umpire’s sudden cry of “FOUL!” or Gigi Guerrero’s little song and dance after an error, or Janice Lindemann’s memorable vo- cabulary lesson for the plate umpire during the All- Star game, when all anyone was seeing was stars. These are the sounds of spring at St. Edward’s, | which comes just in time every year for football’s and basketball’s battered bodies, and which came just in time for Billingsley’s Brewery in 1973. It had been a long winter of frustration for the Brewery, who final- ly tapped in on the Sorry Excuse’s direct line to the Almighty for some magic of their own enroute to the girls’ softball title. Just as in football and basketball, the final game of the Brewery—Strike Outs (different name, same Sorry Excuse) season’s series became in fact the championship game. The Brewery jumped ahead 3-0 after three innings but of course the Strike Outs ral- lied with two runs in the 4th and another in the 5th to knot things again at 3-3. But the Strike Outs had finally run out of miracles, and in very human fash- ion, their error put Mary Fowler on base to lead off the last of the 5th. Bobbie Morales was retired on a pop to 3rd, but Mary Brady slammed a double to score Fowler and set the stage for the Brewery—Lime Crush season finale. For two innings the clubs parried each other, but after the Brewery’s four-run 3rd inning broke a 2-2 tie, the rest was an anticlimax. Indeed! All that was left now were the chirping of birds and the buzzing of insects. _ Ts 2 pa) ay oe) ip) “w eS, —_ ie) ae) Kt = — s Brewery $) 0) ing’y Strike Outs By Lime Crush Knockers Hot Rocks 111 aS Se ne ee He Never Met A Man He Wouldn’t Like ror the very beginning people at St. Ed- ward’s noticed Tom Poore, one of the rare sen- iors who went through graduation day with the same haircut he sported during orientation day in 1969. But there were other things they no- ticed too. Like the day “Bill Poore,” as the spirited debate in the Hilltopper insisted on calling him for two weeks, threw a player out of a ballgame for the first time. He just hap- pened to have picked on the meanest, toughest senior around. And the people noticed him run- ning around the football fields for several weeks the following fall with his arm in a cast. (No, it was NOT broken by a player! Poore fell on it while breaking up the fight.) And few people, not to mention John Flood, will soon forget Poore officiating the Hoopshooters and his own exasperated boss, Flood. Tom Poore was no stranger to St. Edward’s when he succeeded Flood as intramural direc- tor, and thereafter he made sure things stayed that way. Whatever else they thought about Poore, people always knew they had a commissioner. Like the people who wandered outside the 20-yard lines during a ballgame, or the people who learned to respect (if not appreciate) intra- mural officials who, learning in Poore’s “farm club for officials,” were often experienced SFOA and SBOA members, or the people who walked around in those ridiculous but coveted All-Star jersies with SEFL all over the front, or the people who wanted an interested and im- partial ear for their gripes about everything from prejudiced and or incompetent officials to poor scheduling, or the people who wore a striped shirt who needed the absolute confi- dence that they’d always have the steadfast sup- port of their boss, or the people who were eleven minutes late for their ballgame, or the people who managed to get their names into Poore’s little grey box of the more notorious names of St. Eds’ intramural history. That was the secret of the Poore regime— meticulous attention to detail: After all, how important was it that referees did not wear cut- offs anymore, or that they didn’t shoot baskets during timeouts, or that the gym windows were cleaned before St. Eds’ extramural tourna- ments? At the Athletic Banquet Poore ex- plained how important. “What it all says, we think, is that we've tried to take intramurals as seriously as yall do. The way we see it, while we aren’t the NCAA but rather a competition level somewhere short of that super-structured environment of serious competition, we are somewhat beyond the free-for-all environment of a pick-up game. Ideally, we offer an environment in which the organized and serious competition of inter-col- legiate sports is available in the relaxed and frivolous atmosphere of the spontaneous back- yard contest.” Yes yall. We sure did have a commissioner. eS Illustrated by Teresa Hall 114 Sports had not one, or even two, but three historic per- formances in 1972-73. Bob Griese, his broken leg healed, took back the reins of the Miami Dolphins from the NFL’S finest relief pitcher, Earl Morrall, and completed the Dolphins’ perfectly Super season with a 14-7 victory over the Washington Redskins in the Super Bowl VII. Seven was also the magic number for Mark Spitz who, redeeming an embarrassing Olympic showing in 1968, set seven world records in winning his seven gold medals. For UCLA it was, yep, a seventh straight national champi- onship as John Wooden coached his 75th con- secutive victory. The Wide-eyed World of Sports In the year past storybook things happened as never before in sports, but so did some very unmagical things that opened our eyes as they’d never been opened before in sports. ST ne wide world of sports will not soon for- get 1972-73, a year that brought greater thrills in its victories but more grievous ago- ny in its defeats than any before. The victories were simply incompre- _hensible. In professional football the Miami _ Dolphins, a 7-year-old expansion team from “that funny league,” tamed the mighty NFL as no team in history ever had, eclipsing the _ season rushing record of the Detroit Lions on their way to a perfect 17-0 season. At Munich swimmer Mark Spitz was just as per- _ fect, winning an unprecedented seven gold ' medals, each in world record time. Mean- _ while, UCLA (Bill Walton edition) rolled on to its seventh consecutive NCAA basketball _ championship and its ninth in the last ten years, and raised its record winning streak to 75 consecutive games, and still counting. _ And at the Belmont, Secretariat added the third jewel of horse racing’s Triple Crown, _ the first horse able to do so in the generation since Citation did it in 1948. | Each feat by itself is astounding, a once in a lifetime affair, and yet all four happened in one year. But if there was never a grander year in _ the world of sports, there was never a more tragic one either. From the beginning the grandeur of the summer Olympic games was soured by prej- udiced judging by the East Europeans and later by the U.S.-Russia basketball debacle, but on September 5 real tragedy gripped the Olympic Village when eight Arab com- mandos of the Black September broke into the dormitory of the Israeli team, killing two Israelis immediately and holding nine others as hostages for the release of 200 Arab commandos held in Israel. The nightmare ended 16 hours later in a shootout at an airfield outside Munich that left 15 more people dead. After a 24-hour suspension the games continued to the mixed reaction of a stunned world. On New Year’s Eve the great Roberto Clemente died in the crash of a plane carrying relief supplies from Puerto Rico to the earthquake victims in Nicaragua. In Indianapolis, Indiana, the grandest event in sports showed again why it is also the grimmest, counting one dead crewman, two critically burned drivers, 13 hospitalized spectators, and, yes, a winning driver finally after only 332.5 miles of a rain-delayed and wreck marred Indianapolis 500. Between these heart-stopping moments fans could pause and catch their breath while the University of Southern California skipped past Ohio State in the Rose Bowl to wrap up the national title that might again have been Nebraska’s (an effortless winner over Notre Dame in the Orange Bowl) until UCLA’s stunning upset of the Cornhuskers on opening day. Ohio State had earned its Rose Bowl invitation with two heroic goal-line stands before a national TV audience that preserved its thrilling 14-11 victory over unbeaten Big Ten rival Michigan. USC had also thrilled a national audience when it turned sophomore running back Anthony Davis loose for six touchdowns, two on kick returns of 97 and 96 yards, against Notre Dame on the season’s last Saturday. In baseball the mustachioed Oakland Athletics, looking more like the original Philadelphia A’s, beat the Cincinnati Reds in seven games to wrap up baseball’s most interesting World Series since the 1969 Mets miracle. Six of the games were decided by one run, two night games were played for the first time in Series history, and the A’s unlikely hero was erstwhile second-string catcher Gene Tenace, who drove in nine of the A’s 16 runs while socking four home- runs. At the college world series USC won its fourth consecutive title, edging top-ranked Arizona State 4-3. In the NBA the New York Knicker- bocker surprised the ailing Boston Celtics in the Eastern Conference finals and then ripped the Los Angeles Lakers in 5 games after losing the first to reclaim the NBA title, and in golf, Lee Trevino passed $1 million in prize money. And in whatever catagory it deserves, Howard Cosell and Don Merideth were signed by ABC for their fourth season of ‘Monday Night Football, a new American tradition. iat} sete AO RB BOREL LEELA great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, | great, great, great, great, great, | MAL7 ] 119 Four More Years The two most important people in America the morning of November 7, 1972 were Richard Nixon and George McGovern, but by evening it might as well of been Spring 1972 for George who?. THE QUESTION SiT OVER Pepse ITS OVER AFAIR [Q PRESS. | 1D rest: reaffirming their demand for moderation in political affairs the American people selected their president by an over- whelming majority for the second time in eight years in 1972. If extremism in the defense of liberty was indeed a vice in 1964, then so was extremism in the defense of socialism in 1972. Senator George S. McGovern, a relative unknown in the early 1972 Democratic lineup of possible presidential nominees, correctly read the Democratic Convention but misread the Democratic Party and the American people, winning the nomination in Miami Beach but losing horribly to President Richard M. November. Nine Democrats took the campaign trail in the spring; front-runner Nixon in besides McGovern Senator Edmund Muskie of Maine, Senators Hubert H. Humphrey of Minnesota, Henry (Scoop) Jackson of Washington, and Vance Hartke of Indiana, and former Senator Eugene McCarthy of Minnesota, Congress- woman Shirley Chisolm of New York, Governor George Wallace of Alabama, and 120 DID THE. PRESS REPORT THE -——Sp TROTH DUR Dist. Publishers-Hall Syndicate ADMINIS - TRATION? YOURE NOT GOING TO CK Orn US Gite $1 © 1971 Jules Feiffer, Courtesy Publishers—Hall Syndicate Mayors John Lindsay of New York and Sam Yorty of Los Angeles. But after a poor showing in the Wisconsin primary, Muskie announced his withdrawal from the primaries, and in Laurel, Maryland a would-be assassin’s bullet paralyzed George Wallace and shattered his presi- dential hopes, and McGovern began making gains. The man who had gained a reputa- tion as a party reformer after he helped reshape the Democratic convention rules after the 1968 disaster in Chicago, McGovern gathered strong support through his populist appeal and his image as a left-of-center apostle of the so-called New Politics. He also possessed an excel- lent organization of tireless young workers. At the turbulent but relatively peace- ful Democratic National Convention in July McGovern overcame a _ stop- McGovern movement when the creden- tials committee returned to him 151 California delegates that his opponents had argued were won in violation of the con- vention’s far reaching reform rules, and he easily won first ballot nomination on July 12. The finely tuned decorum of the mas- terfully orchestrated Republican National Convention that met in the same hall six weeks later was in sharp contrast to the excitement the Democrats had brought Miami Beach. The week’s biggest excitement was the rare Republican goof that caused Walter Cronkite to try to explain to a waiting nation that they were seeing tomor- row’s movie today, while the delegates were seeing today’s movie tomorrow. There was one floor fight, an important battle over a delegate-reform proposal to in- crease representation of the populous states at the 1976 convention. Liberals and moder- ates from the populous states organized the unsuccessful battle to prevent small-state and Southern conservatives from assuring the 1976 presidential nomination of Spiro Agnew. Nixon was nominated on August 22 j | over the nominal opposition of Congressman Paul McCloskey, Jr., of California, who thought the President too conservative, and Congressman John Ashbrook of Ohio, who thought him too liberal. In the course of his campaign the Presi- dent strongly supported locally controlled schools and opposed the busing of school children to achieve racial balance. He spoke out against abortion, legalization of mari- juana, welfare for those who refused to work, and amnesty for those who refused to fight in Vietnam. But he maintained a very low profile throughout the campaign and rarely ap- peared on television. He made several paid political speeches on radio, but generally avoided the campaign trail. Instead, Mr. Nixon chose to stay at his desk in the White House, projecting an aloof and dignified image of a nonpartisan President who was above the demand of party politics. His bumper stickers read simply, in red and blue letters on white background, “Re-elect The President.” Meanwhile, George McGovern was doing all he could to play into the President’s cam- paign strategy. The Democratic convention itself had made enemies for McGovern. In- stead of the usual collection of party reg- ulars, big-city bosses, and labor chieftains, many of the delegates were youths, women, and b lacks attending their first convention. Chicago Mayor Richard Daley, a king- maker of past conventions, was not allowed to attend this one. The credentials com- mittee ruled that his elected Illinois delega- tion was in violation of the party’s reforms. George Meany, AFL-CIO president who had soured early on McGovern, was present at the convention only to work against him. McGovern further offended party regulars when he named Utah national committee- woman Jean Westwood as chairman of the Democratic National Committee, replacing Larry O’Brien. Although Daley later agreed to work for McGovern’s election, Meany refused to endorse him, and organized labor, like the Democratic Party, was divided on McGovern. The worst setback to McGovern’s campaign was the disclosure in Custer, South Dakota on July 25 that his 42-year-old vice- presidential running mate, Senator Thomas F. Eagleton of Missouri, had undergone psychiatric treatment. McGovern’s immedi- ate reaction to Engleton’s surprising an- nouncement was a pledge of “1,000 per cent”” support, but a few days later McGovern decided to drop Eagleton on the grounds that the controversy would cloud the real issues of the campaign. McGovern’s leadership image was damaged further when he failed to persuade DOONESBURY IN ST LOUIS THIS MORNING, SENATOR GEORGE Mc GOVERN ANNOUNCE? Hs FINAL eae Cit ey DEFENSE 2, © 1972 G. B. Trudeau 3 ao z 5 2 3 z THE SENATOR SAID THAT HE WAS COLETELY COMMITTED T0 THIS POUCY AND ADDED THAT “I AM 2300°%7% : BEHIND: FAR-RANGING REFORM IN THE AREA OF APPROPRIATIONS (2e2 le, MILITARY. ” ADDRESSING A PRESS CONFERENCE, THE SENATOR SAID; “IT 1S TIME TO CUT THE FAT ANP WASTE FROM EXTKAVACANT MILITARY SFENDING IF ELECTED T LEDGE TO DO JUST THAT MN eg) N OTHER NEWS, THIS AFTERNOON N CHICAGO, SENATOR Mc 6OVERN CHANGED HIS MIND. Copyright, 1972, G.B. Trudeau. Distributed by Universal Press Syndicate. a half dozen prominent Democrats, in- cluding Senator Edward Kennedy, to replace Eagleton. He finally settled on (or for) Sergeant Shriver, Kennedy’s brother- in-law. In the campaign McGovern attempt- ed to make an issue of alledged Republi- can corruption, pointing out the involve- ment of ITT in the original plans of the Republican Party for San Diego conven- tion, and the then still sleepy, still comically James Bondish Republican break-in at the Democratic National Headquarters at the Watergate office- apartment complex in Washington. At the same time, trying to present a more moderate position on explosive issues such as amnesty, abortion, marijuana, tax reform and defense cuts, McGovern only succeeded in raising further doubts among voters about his credibility and decisiveness. Another Nixon Bumper sticker, referring to Nixon, read, “Now More Than Ever!” On November 7 the American people agreed and voted overwhelmingly to give Richard Nixon his “Four More Years.” The President lost only Massachusetts and the District of Columbia in securing 60.7% of the popular vote, a figure second only to Lyndon Johnson’s 61.1% in 1964. Mr. Nixon’s 520 electoral votes was surpassed only by Franklin Roosevelt’s 523 in 1936. Mr. Nixon won his landslide by breaking up the old coalition of black, Jewish, and Roman Catholic voters, part of the “Roose- velt Coalition” since the days of Depression. He also gained large portions of the blue collar and newly-enfranchised youth vote. But the victory was a personal, not a party, triumph. The Republicans had hoped to pick up the 5 seats they needed to take control of the Senate in the 93rd Congress. Instead, they lost 2. In the House of Repre- sentatives, the Republicans gained only 14 of the 39 new seats they needed to gain con- trol. It was the first time in any U.S. election that a party winning the presidency with a sweep such as Mr. Nixon’s failed to take both housed of Congress. Another Bumper sticker explained the reason pretty well. It said, “Democrats for Nixon.” 121 The Heat is on for Brother Stephen — “T vealways been the youngest person at something. My age hasn’t been a problem. I just don’t think about it. The only thing I ask of anybody is that I’m free to be myself and that I don’t have to play the role of college president. There are a number of students who know me pretty well, and I continue a kind of normal, natural relationship with them. I don’t try to assert myself as the president. In the long run, you don’t gain respect or cooperation by virtue of your position or your title—that comes from personal rapport and your effectiveness on another level. You don’t descend from on high. 99 122 Wine he entered St. Edward’s in 1959, Brother Stephen didn’t try to hide his disappointment. He was a native Californian, he had spent a year as a Holy Cross novice near the University of Notre Dame, and he had spent a week on the Notre Dame cam- pus at the end of his training. So Texas and St. Edward’s didn’t have much to offer him, he thought. Brother Stephen hasn’t doubted since through four years as a student, seven as a teacher and administrator, and now as the life goes whole reversed. 99 lives can 21st president of St. Edward’s University. Certainly the quality most striking about Brother Stephen is his overwhelming faith in this university. Indeed, Brother Stephen’s faith has been more than idle dreaming. While chair- man of the Division of Teacher Education he created the Center for Teaching and Learning, and as Academic Dean was a major force in the development of Model Q, new interdisciplinary majors in criminal justice, bilingual-bicultural education, and environ- mental studies, and the Project Excel and CAMP programs. Before his selection as president by the Board of Trustees after a search committee had screened some 50 candidates, Brother Stephen had served as Interim President for eleven months following the resignation of Dr. Edgar L. Roy. Two days after the Board’s decision was announced Brother Stephen described his selection to some in- quisitive high schoolers in Temple as “escaping from purgatory into hell!”’ No doubt the heat is on for Brother Stephen, but he’s been in the kitchen through the most dynamic and unsettling seven years this hilltop has seen. The next seven promise to be no less interesting. 6é Seinen: I’m concerned about the impact that a decision will make, but generally I don’t worry. You know the earth is probably a billion years old and on and important things happening. But there are lots of things that don’t make that much difference. There are people whose be consumed in details—but in the great spectrum of Western civilization all the decisions we make everyday, it seems to me, are not all that earth-shaking. There are very critical problems that must be well thought out and whose implications must be carefully weighed, but decisions must be made and not worried about. There are very few things that can’t be there are really 123 Right, Virginia Dailey Academic Dean Below left, Edward Norris Associate Dean for Student Welfare Below right, James Elliott Associate Academic Dean 124 M45} Grace Mary Olfs Associate Dean for Student Advisory Services ’ Left, Br. Edwin Reggio Dean of Students Sr Below ss suLnnunsuinannannnSnSSSSSSSSS Left, John Lucas Director of Admissions Left below, Richard Kinsey Director of Advancement Below, David Crawford Director of Financial Affairs Fj M Y 126 Fr. Thomas Windberg University Chaplain 127 128 Ernestine Wheelock Director of Publicity Thomas Hamilton Athletic Director Al Cantu Director of Educational Media Br. William Randle Director of Residences Jerrold Buttrey International Student Advisor Phyllis Rieser Registrar 129 Fr, Neal Wise Chairman, Department of Humanities Isabella Cunningham Acting Director, Center for Business Administration i t 4 ¥ ; ee 2 a Paul White Chairman, Department of Physical and Biological Sciences 130 Glenn Hinkle Director, Center for Teaching and Learning J ames Koch Chairman, Department of Social Sciences eee Jaen: Edward Mangum Chairman, Department of Fine and Performing Arts seaneaseagnenesisecnan reese oR aE NNT: Sr. Mary Mercy Geohegan Chairman, Department of Behavioral Sciences Ways ERT PEELE. COLE BEIGE RES PPPPRPPRPPREeP ze S = ) = = 3 3 4 a he i So aS = ron ay Ss 9 3 @ = 9 a rPPrPPrerPrRPre Assi. r P PPP PP e-eneeqe4er Instructor in Theatre Arts Paul Butler arrol Angermeier Associate Professor of English 132 conssbangans gap he Br. Hilarion Brezik Assistant Professor of Art Fr, Leroy Clementich Instructor of Theology Br. Henry Altmiller Assistant Professor of History 133) Walle M. Conoly {ssociate Professor of Art Sr. Anne Crane : Instructor in English Don Cox Alumni Director Br. Fabius Dunn Professor of History NLA AAA ASS ae Subba wa (A Sr. Alice Mary Diehl Assistant Professor of Administrative Services Curtis Carnes Assistant Professor of Finance William Coffey, Jr. Associate Professor of Business Administration 134 Mary Barbash Assistant Professor of German Fr, William Brady Associate Professor of Philosophy and Theology Opposite page, above, Fr. George Celestin Assistant Professor of Theology and Philosophy as5) Emma Linn Associate Professor of Psychology Br. Keric Dever Instructor in Mathematics Thomas Fritts Instructor in Biology 136 Br. Cornelius Corcoran Professor of Marketing Raymond Flugel Professor of History Left, Marguerite Grissom Associate Professor of Music | Above, Anthony Florek . Assistant Professor of History ey Richard Hughes Professor of History Ross Hindman Assistant Professor of Sociology Br. Joseph Heisler Professor of Mathematics 138 Gamewell Gantt, IIT Instructor in Business Administration and Finance Ted Holland Assistant Professor of Education Sr. Rose Therese Huelsman Assistant Professor of Sociology WSN, Jose Limon Instructor in Anthropology Charlotte Klein Instructor in Education I TRI I ET John Knudsen Instructor in French Fr, Arthur Kinsella Professor of Philosophy and Theology Riadh Kit Khadhiri Associate Professor of Business Administration 140 a We, War, Wee A a nie ite Raymond Jones Instructor in Business Administration Above, Malcolm McClinchie Instructor in General Business Left, Sr. Mary Kevin Kenny Associate Professor of History Ng x Claude Nolen Lge: Professor of History or 141 142 Audrey McClinchie Instructor in Art ———— Hiroshi Matsuo Assistant Professor of Business Administration Right, James Morgan Assistant Professor of Music Below, Yell Norwood Instructor in Foreign Language Education Peter Pesoli Professor of English Jim Mills Instructor in Biology 143 144 Sr. Amata Miller Assistant Professor of Economics Inez Ordonez Associate Professor of Spanish Lesley Zimic Associate Professor of Spanish Br. Thomas McCullough Professor of Chemistry Sr. Marie Andre Walsh Professor of Foreign Language Education Donald Raffety Assistant Professor of Mathematics Above, Sr. Agnes Louise Murray Instructor in Political Science Right, Don Post Assistant Professor of Sociology 145 Wayne Zimmerman Associate Professor of Mathematics 146 Below, John Overbey Associate Professor of Accounting Right, Br. Simon Scribner Professor of English William Rienstra Assistant Professor of Physics Left, Michael Sullivan Instructor in English and Theatre Arts Below, Karen Ryker Instructor in Theatre Arts Top, Br. Mark Rufe Instructor in Mathematics Above, Edwin Rinehart, Jr. Associate Professor of Accounting Right, Martha Roberts Instructor in Piano 147 Ann Strong Instructor in Sociology 148 stot Milton Morse Instructor in Business Administration Associate Professor of Education Olive Wheeler Clair Ossian Instructor in Geology Above, Frances K. Sage 1 Assistant Professor of English Above right, Carol Staha Instructor in English Right, Sr. Madeleine Sophie Weber Assistant Professor of Education and Psychology 149 Freshmen Cynthia Ahn Ricardo Ainslie Susan Balagia Austin, Tex. Piedras Negra, Mx. History Austin, Tex. 3ruce Berger Phyllis Bindel Dennis Clough Pete Coselli Rosemary Cumley Marketing Sociology Bus. Adm. Political Science Austin, Tex. Dallas, Tex. Muenster, Tex. Cleveland, Ohio Houston, Tex. Gayle Cunningham Jay Derrickson Saleh El-Saleh Spanish Marketing Bus. Adm. Brownsville, T ex. Cleveland, Ohio Austin, Tex. 150 Jann Jackson Theatre Arts Houston, Tex. Christopher Hirsch Forestry Houston, Tex. Sociology Be eacecianmancc mamma Glenn Gorospe Sociology Los Angeles, Calif. Rick Lievens Undecided La Feria, Tex. Diana Maldonado Del Rio, Tex. JoLynne Fertitta Biology Beaumont, Tex. Tim Gavin Sec. Edu. Wichita Falls, Tex. Kathy Gomez Spanish San Antonio, Tex. Teresa Hey Elem. Edu. Austin, Tex. George Henninger Pre-Law Indianapolis, Ind. Caroline Lashare Austin, Tex. Susie J ames English Kerrville, Tex. Kathy Jackson Sociolog Bay City, Tex. Uy Roberta Masters Dorothy Martinez James Mgebejume Undecided Bilingual Ed. Theatre Arts San Antonio, Tex. Austin, Tex. Agbor, Nigeria Shakeel Mazaffar Jerrie Murphy Ana Ortiz Sociology Psychology Business Bangladesh Taylor, Tex. Brownsville, Tex. Marion Park Phillip Queller Derly Ramirez John Roberts Colleen Sheridan Sociology Austin, Tex. Laredo, Tex. Undecided English Houston, Tex. Houston, Tex. San Antonio, Tex. Susan Turner Psychology Taylor, Tex. Elizabeth Young Sociology Beeville, Tex. ‘ 1 Michael Antonini Philip Baiers Kathy Boone Criminal Justice Pre-Dental Psy chology Hockessin, Del. Hillcrest Hghts, Md. Wichita Falls, Tex. Ly C1. EpW ARE Peta Bob Burke Jeane Christensen Mark Ciesielski Wendy Corbett Debbie Cowart Management Biology Psychology Houston, Tex. Biology Austin, Tex. Austin, Tex. South Bend, Ind. Austin, Tex. Tim Crowley Mimmy Crowther Pre-Med Sociology E] Paso, Tex. Houston, Tex. Pam de Haas Sociology Dallas, Tex. Judy Esparza silingual Ed. Austin, Tex. Chris Jackson English Bay City, Tex. 154 Ann Dewan Business Houston, Tex. Annette Edwards Mathematics Conroe, Tex. Mary Fleming Sean Ford Sociology Criminal Justice Richardson, Tex. Wilmington, Del. as £ Miguel Garcia Accounting Brownsville, Tex. | John Kelleker Criminal Justice San Leandro, Calif. Jackie Jemelka Denise Kelbaugh Bus. Adm. Biology Houston, Tex. Mexico Patrick Eaves Drama Mt. View, Calif. Connie Ellis Psy chology Highbank, Tex. Jill Hahne Sociology Fredericksburg, Tex. heiseteberet= Mary Kelly Joe Keute Mindy Klein Peggy Kucera Dominic Lau Biology Chemistry English Sec. Ed. Accounting Dallas, Tex. New Ulm, Minn. Dallas, Tex. Houston, Tex. Hong Kong cy % YN j % ¥ | Wosixsonye Seen ‘ 4 | B48 ‘ i} Alan Lievens Alicia Martinez Marilyn Martinez Michele McKenney Rosemary McNally . La Feria, Tex. Special Ed. Bilingual Ed. French Pre-Med Mission, Tex. Austin, Tex. Austin, Tex. Corsicana, Tex. Mike Miller Cathy Moller Biology Special Ed. Dallas, Tex. Margie Morrogh Marketing San Antonio, Tex. Gary Morris Math San Leandro, Calif. Nancy Neuman History Dallas, Tex. Stanley Nwokeji Gloria Paramo Michael Pavlik Madeleine Pearsall Finance Bilingual Ed. Pre-Law Theatre Arts Nigeria Round Rock, Tex. McAllen, Tex. Austin, Tex. Ann Rovegno English Houston, Tex. Cynthia Pedroza Kathy Phillip Vance Porfirio Ann Price Mathematics Undecided Physics History Corpus Christi, Tex. La Feria, Tex. Austin, Tex, Galveston, Tex. 156 | Mike Ruttle i Biology Houston, Tex. Sherry Smith Special Ed. Dallas, Tex. Peyton Turk Biology Clinton, Md. Debbie Saucerman Biology Bay City, Tex. Steve Stanton Theatre Arts Mexico City Hal Tynan History San Antonio, Tex. Nancy Weber Biology Mason, Mich. Diane Schilling Business Houston, Tex. Bubba Stockton Business Austin, Tex. sae Bob Siegfried North Babylon, New York Rodney Tieken Bus. Adm. Gonzales, Tex. Tim Sinnott Physics Fremont, Calif. Bryan Ting Accounting Hong Kong Juniors i | is | he [. iy } i 7 } ‘ Pe t arial hh Va) L i i i eu ul iE iN UY Biel ONAL AL Vicencio Cerquenda Vincent Chan Marketing Business Austin, Tex. Rudy Cisweros Behavioral Science Austin, Tex. Hong Kong David Coyle Math York, Penn. Javier de Anda Bus. Management Laredo, Tex. Sharlene Andries English Dallas, Tex. Avi Blattstein Psychology Ramat-Gan, Israel Michael Deem Accounting Haywood, Calif. Kevin Burns Finance Belleville, Ill. Kathy Donaldson Margarita Otero Zembra Everett Education Sociology History Austin, Tex. Mexico Daingerfield, Tex. Jeanne Frank History Houston, Tex. Beverly Franklin Karl Franzoni Jr. Mary Fowler Bus. Education Biology Social Sciences Austin, Tex. Trenton, N. J. Houston, Tex. Gigi Guerero Dario Gutierrez Bilingual Ed. Biology ! Laredo, Tex. Laredo, Tex. Curtis Hall Austin, Tex. Ronny Hartmann Timothy Healy History Wilmington, Del. Fredericksburg, Tex. Stella Madrigal Sociology Millsap, Tex. 160 Eddie Hensley Susan Hiegel Bus. Adm, Physics Little Rock, Ark. Priscilla Hubenak Biology Wharton, Tex. David Laborde Marketing Marksville, La. Adrian McKnight Theatre Arts Dallas, Tex. | Judy Holloway Spanish Austin, Tex. Brian Killacky Criminal Justice Chicago, Ill. Carmella LaValle Biology Chicago, Il. f Bobbie Marales Pamela Peterek Laura Pigg Rick Ratcliffe Bill Reichenstein Sociology English Philosophy History Education | Laredo, Tex. Gonzales, Tex. Austin, Tex. Lakewood, Ohio , Dallas, Tex. Robin Riha Rick Sanso Bus. Adm. Business Austin, Tex. Austin, Tex. ! Patricia Schreck Bryan Snyder Accounting F inance Houston, Tex. Austin, Tex. Gregory Young Business Hillcrest Hghts, Md. George Villarreal P BS Austin, Tex. ow Ralph Pritchett Economics Corpus Christi a ge ae a Pat Wallace English San Antonio aPC: AMARA YS Pennsylvania Kathy Lyons English Springfield, John Miller, ’72 Westlake, Ohio sie % : Bobbie Morales | Junior Laredo, Texas Janice Lindemann English Bartlett, Texas Denise Paquette English Detroit | Barbara Lejeune Jackie Moore _ French Sociology Tampa, Florida Chandler, Arizona Br. Bob Shepard Sociology Austin 163 Bob Breslin Top, Joseph Collins History Economics Seat Pleasant, Md. Bergstrom AFB, Texas Right, Jean Neustadt Management Ardmore, Oklahoma Gabriel Guardiola History Austin Arthur Tellez Finance Austin Enrique Rosania Biology Colon, Panama | Charlie Escamilla Theatre Arts Dallas Monte Fuller | Business Dallas Edward Nicklaus Accounting Austin Richard Jones (Jonesie) H Management Sherman Oaks, California Mariano Gamboa Management Nuevo Laredo, Mexico Mary Stevenson Victoria, Texas Evie Schuh English San Antonio Joan Hohmann Sociology Cleveland, Ohio Randi Simonovich English Rockford, Illinois 166 Sociology Terri Butt Sociology Ponca City, Oklahoma Ted McGourty Junior Annandale, New Jersey Ed Daeger Accounting Indianapolis, Indiana Liz Link Left, Bob and Louise Hauert Left; John Minne, ’72 English English Sociology Mishawaka, Indiana Laredo, Texas Chicago Newburgh, Indiana Steve McHale English Miami Shores, Florida John Barbick Margaret Smith Mike Barrett History English Math Miami, Florida Galveston, Texas Miami, Florida Madeline Johnson Business Dallas Ron Whitney Business South Bend, Indiana | | | Penny Hill Psychology Austin Rich Bohac John Friedrechsen History Management Wichita Falls, Texas San Lorenzo, Ca. Kurt Killam History Alton, Illinois Janice Lindemann Elliott Williams Theatre Arts Washington, D.C. Joe Malleske Biology Brook Park, Ohio 169 Paul and Rose Marie Seals Sociology Del Rio, Texas DeAnna Garza Spanish Texas 3 Brownsville. Terry Bauer Management Rochester, New York v7 Ed Ledesma Management San Antonio , Texas h ille 1S: Engl Kerrv isa Jackson L Daniel Sousa Economics Lucila Vargas Chitre-Herrera, Panama Math El Paso, Texas Frank Leonard English Pensacola, Florida Popo Bazan Marketing Nuevo Laredo, Mexico 172, j Dan Walsh q Finance | Long Beach, California Dan Weed (Birdman) Marketing Chicago Debbie Koehler History Dallas MY Right, Vernal Bracken Accounting Austin Below, Robert DeVere Marketing Waco, Texas Augie Vangelakos Sociology College Point, New York 174 Tom Poore History Dallas Quinn Carney Management Dallas i at RE iS PAS SS iS Larry Connors Accounting Wayne Mitchell Business Wilmington, Delaware San Antonio Jim Briganti Accounting Paterson, New Jersey Susanna Shen Sociology North Point, Hong Kong =? Mike Martin Management Austin Texas ’ Homer Richer Psychology Brownsville Falls Church, Virginia Al Knight Sociology Luis Vargas Psychology El Paso, Texas YD 1 176 Sylvia Healy and Michael, Sr. Jr. Biology Austin Right, Alawi M. Awami Management Saudi Arabia Far right, Jeremiah Nwokeji Accounting Akuma-Orlu, Nigeria Tom McCloskey and Wayne Marlow History Business Lakewood, Ohio San Antonio Nicholas Zinzi Management Rome, Italy Lee Unterborn History Rochester, New York } 7 7 3 a 3 o z a Sy te a = 38 ich) re AES S Rte 7) § 3s = Res 88% 3s .a,5 Awe e 3 3 os 5p ae) S28 325 TNS re aS 2 aes 3 = 4 5 es 2 o D eeiiamummeaeumee sbi od meen ee os 8 [9 S £ oa A= Administrative Services Austin Rita Wallace Rudy Ramirez Accounting Austin Leonard Moffatt Finance Leechburg, Pa. Mike Simon History Colon, Panama Seeeten nator: Kevin O'Connor Marc Stead Jesse. Fowlkes History Management Sociology Miami, Florida Miami Shores, Florida Miami, Florida Debbie Tinney English San Antonio 178 John Robinson, Michael, and Penny Biology i Columbia, Missouri Walter Cooper j | History Washington, D.C. | | | Richard Marroquin Pete Castle Greg Walton Pat Mancuso and Samantha | History Sociology Accounting Sociology ict | Brownsville, Texas Rochester, N.Y. Rochester, N.Y. Cleveland, Ohio Adman Yafi Math New York 179 Joseph Sain Theatre Arts Alvarada, Texas Elise Crowell English Boulder, Colorado Robert Moore Mary Johnson Accounting History Canton, Mississippi Austin Aileen Roberts History Austin Norman Furgiuele Sociology Mentcle, Pennsylvania Alberto Eleta Management Panama, Panama 181 Dan Morrison Psychology Hayward, California Mrs. Ida Lim Ng Math Singapore, Singapore wees Se oon tas as 7 ; i Gee SG ee aoe =e Fy! Bart and Carol Botta Frank Hurley Meyer Ismael Melgoza Mark Jardina Biology Sociology Psychology Psychology Austin Jefferson, Missouri Dallas Indianapolis, Ind, Cristina Gonzales Rock Marketing Brownsville, Texas Bob Siegfried Sophomore N. Babylon, New York Donna Valenta History Granger, Texas Paula Foster Psychology Garland, Texas Lolly Hatcher Sophomore 183 Kathy Stavinoha Sociology Temple, Texas 185 Patricia Devine Marketing Dallas .3 3) = gas S38 “Gh ss ater 9 +S oS © ee ed — “ 3 oe 3 a} Fred and Mickey Lopez Florida English Miami, 186 The Riverboat eS heave —sa 187 ee es Beer, pizza, a mug, and no hard sell. 189 | Since we only jaauaam - go around once... The Schlitz people have a name for it, gusto, and it is sort of what all those graduation speakers were alluding to. Bishop Flores Mike Barrett uestioning the faithfulness of his genera- tion to its own great pretensions Mike Bar- rett, a math major from Miami, Florida, de- livered valedictory remarks to 217 graduates and their guests during 88th commencement ceremonies for St. Edward’s at Municipal Auditorium the morning of May 26. Suggest- ing that poet Jane Stembridge correctly per- ceived that “America is mean,” Barrett repudiated the “end of ideology” atmo- sphere of a modern consumer-oriented cul- ture that has servcu as the rationale for per- sonal complacency. “The end of ideology ...is a sort of mixture of resignation and unconscious self- pity that translates into a feeling that we have finally arrived at the perfect scheme of society and community, and so while there are certainly’ bugs left to be worked out, that is properly the work of government and great men, and ours is the well-earned privilege of enjoying all the rewards of consumerism which our previous hard work has won.” “I am not convinced,” Barrett told his classmates, “that we have not made the same mistake so many have made of assuming great things are done by influen- tial people with recognizable names in very uncommon places. We must not pass the buck that easily. Great things are born in the day-to-day, utterly common contacts that we have with real people.” “Ours is a more difficult job than any great figure’s, for we must do great things in very common surroundings.” Barrett’s remarks preceded the conferral of honorary degrees by university president Brother Stephen Walsh upon the Most Rev- erend Bishop Patrick F. Flores, Auxiliary to the Archbishop of San Antonio, and Dr. Joseph P. Witherspoon of the University of Texas School of Law and the Volunteer Executive Director of the Citywide Com- mittee for Human Rights. Bishop Flores had concelebrated the moving Bacculaureate service Friday evening, Shubert’s Mass in G, sung superbly by the Hilltopper Chorale under the direc- tion of James P. Morgan. Bishop Flores de- livered a poignant homily, putting before the graduates in very precise terms the challenge of a very personal responstbility. The Class of 1973 | | | he (ower 1973 Michael Barrett Editor ze DOLFHing mek WOULD Tang, Staff: Eileen Fegan Jill Hahne Bruce Berger Debbie Saucerman Not pictured again is Dan Morrison 28 Education 44 Community 72 Sports 116 People 194 The Society My thanks to Chris Jackson, Rose Seals, Lolly Hatcher, and Donna Valenta for their concern, to Luis Vargas and Jim Sinsky for their skill and diligence if not their punctu- ality, and special thanks to John Sandidge and R. G, Milton of Henington. Thanks also to Brother Philip Odette with whom I spent three fascinating days in the archives, to the Hilltopper for their artwork on page 44, and to Sybil Ingram and Teresa Hall. For two people my very personal thanks. What Dr. Richard Hughes and Mr. Jerry Affron contributed to this Tower is evident on every page. Jim Sinsky Luis Vargas Not pictured is Mike Aanstoos; special thanks to Felix Martinez and Kevin Wright. Credits Color Photography: Drew Barrett; 12, 28, 32 Mike Barrett; Endsheet, 2-3, 16-17, 20, 21, 24, 25, 204 Rick Barrett; 1 Roger Lamer; 7, 201, 205 Larry Morello; 4, 5, 6, , 9, 10-11, 196, 199, 202, 203 NASA; 14-15, 194, 207, 208 Peter Rochon; 205 Portrait Photography: Mr. Allen Hoxie for Studio Six Photog- raphy of San Antonio Che ower THE SOGIETY DOONESBURY ; | Dear Phred: Too bad. about lasing al) } I've been following those battles. But if you f the War standinps think the VC. are dis- | jin the popers lately, orpenized, you should see | : America seems to be the Democrats. They're ‘| ® on top again over there. jn worse shape than you. iH) e i} A ! G { rr y a3 = . PIG, ———. UNIVERSAL PRESS SYNDICATE (PA, hou YY MA You know, I dont think it's too late for you to come on over to our side. I'm enclosing some A free society really is Jiterature on best and I think if democracy. you knew the Teal story youd. agree. — 7) (an Wiig ee Si —= Copyright, 1972, G. B. Trudeau. Distributed by Universal Press Syndicate i) There’s not a high green hill where lovers lay belongs to them they think it does climbing up planting flags of flowers saying here but in the shadows of the bloody flag flowers cannot breathe as deep and die and I the sole ambassador to hills bring heavy messages to tell them that America is mean Jane Stembridge oo e—=eee — ee With Not A Cheer, But A Sigh Good evening. I have asked this radio and television time tonight for the purpose of announcing that we today have concluded an agreement to end the war and bring peace with honor in Vietnam and Southeast Asia. A nd so it was over. With Mr. Nixon’s spare words from the White House and two brief ceremonies in Paris, the nation began at last to extricate itself from a quicksandy war that had plagued four Presidents and driven one from office; that had sundered the coun- try more deeply than any event since the Civil War; that in the end came to be seen by a great majority of Americans as having been a tragic mistake. It was a wound to the spirit so sore that the news of peace stirred only the relief that comes with an end to pain. A war that produced no famous victories, no national heroes and no stirring patriotic songs, produced no memorable armistice-day celebrations either. America was too ex- hausted by the war and too chary of the peace to celebrate. In Wayne, Michigan, Mayor Patrick Norton interrupted a debate of the city council to ask if the councilmen would like to hear President Nixon’s speech on the set- tlement. They preferred to continue dis- cussing a proposed apartment building for senior citizens. “I thought it all very strange,” said the mayor. “We waited all these years for the war to be over, and then we were too busy to hear the announce- ment.” The Boston Globe commented that the war was concluded “not with a cheer but a sigh.” Its tension afflicted every corner of American life. It inflamed relations between the White House and Capitol Hill: the —President Nixon, January 23, 1973 leaders of Congress gave Mr. Nixon a stand- ing ovation at a briefing on the truce—and went back to an agenda including legislation to keep him or any other President from waging an undeclared war again. It infected the political process, reducing the Democrats from the landslide LBJ majority to the factionated and gloomy minority that went down with George McGovern. It ignited riots on the campuses, sent draft resisters in exile to Canada and deserters in flight to Sweden, produced a series of showcase conspiracy trials from Dr. Spock to the Chicago Seven to the Berrigans. It accelerated the growth of a counterculture turned off on America and turned on to rock, drugs, love, alienation and, sporadically, violence. It debased lan- guage, destroyed civility, reduced debate at moments to a shouting match between those who wore flags and those who burned them. It eroded the authority of institutions—not just the government but the universities, the churches and the military itself. Most of all, Vietnam drained America’s confidence in its ability to master its own problems. The Great Society was already a flickering dream when Mr. Nixon inherited it; the one sustaining hope of its architects was that it might be revitalized and advanced when the “Peace dividend”—the money America had been sinking in the war— became available. But the peace dividend has already disappeared into Mr. Nixon’s tight budget, and the pinched mood of America after Vietnam no longer favors spending for social change. The war has been even more chastening to the nation’s sense of what it can achieve in the world. The U.S. arrived in the °60’s committed by John Kennedy to “pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hard- ship ...to assure the survival and the success of liberty.” It entered the 70’s with the Nixon doctrine—the greatly scaled down declaration that America will meet its obli- gations abroad but will expect its allies to do more for themselves. The Cold War assump- tions that involved the nation in Vietnam— the perception of Communism as monolithic and relentlessly expansionist—have yielded to the thaw with Moscow and Peking and an emerging three-way balance of power in the world. “We are not as omnipotent or as omnivictorious as we had been able to think we were up to now,” said historian Daniel J. Boorstin. The discovery may be a risky one if it leads America into isolation and retreat: it will be happy indeed if it means no more Vietnams. It was fitting that America’s celebration of the peace was not dancing in the streets but the cadenced tolling of church bells at the hour of the ceasefire. “How,” asked one saddened liberal in the ashes of America’s longest war, “do we accept the fact that, as a country, we re not innocent any more?” Compiled from reports in Time and Newsweek, February 5, 1973. % Once the symbol of triumphant homecoming for American servicemen from a job well done, San Francisco’s Golden Gate soberly welcomed a new generation of soldiers from a job that... well, was simply done. 199 sigiereres ELST SSF The American Obsession With Fun I n John Barth’s The End of The Road, Jacob Horner describes a dream he once had in which, after several futile attempts to find out the weather fore- cast, he learns from the chief meteorologist that there simply will not be any weather the next day. He tells us about the dream in order to explain a particular state of mind that he often experiences, a state he has come to call “weatherless.” Though analogies be- tween moods and weather are commonplace, Horner questions their appropriateness in his case because a day without weather is almost impossible to imagine, and yet he frequently has days without any mood at all. At such times Horner is without a personality, is nonexistent in his own mind, except in the purely physical sense. He compares himself to those micro- scopic specimens that must be dyed before they can be seen: Horner needs to be colored by some mood or other in order to recognize himself. On his weatherless days he sits blankly in his rocking chair, rocking sometimes for hours until some external event colors him back into being . . . I have a friend, a teacher at a junior college in a large midwestern city, who sometimes suffers similar periods of weatherlessness. Her attacks are less severe and less pervasive than Jacob Horner’s: I think they are, in part, just a defense against being overwhelmed by modern urban living. Nevertheless, finding your- self in the company of someone who is in no mood at all is an unsettling experience. You just plain don’t know how to act, since nothing you say or do seems to matter. There is nothing to interact with, no mood, emotion, or viewpoint to oppose or compli- ment. You can’t cheer your friend up, because she’s not sad; you can’t convince her of anything, because she’s all too agreeable; and you can’t make her feel better, because she doesn’t feel bad. A few years ago, when I was visiting my friend during one of her weatherless bouts, I became exasperated and then saddened by my own helplessness in the situation. But as the weekend wore on, my sadness, interest- ingly enough; dissolved itself into moodlessness, too, so that finally the two of us sat there staring vacantly into space and feeling quite at home with each other... Well, the coincidental relationship among my friends and me and Jacob Horner and weatherlessness and Pepsi-Cola ads all came together in an intriguing way when I recently reread The End of the Road. | began to listen carefully to Pepsi ads and then to Coke ads, and, as is usually the case when advertising is analyzed, I learned much less about the products than about the public for which the ads are de- signed ... My friend and I knew instinctively to turn on the television that weatherless Saturday night, although neither of us is an avid viewer. I would venture to guess that the difference between us and many full- time TV addicts is that we were quite conscious of our moodlessness because, for us, it is a sometime thing. Those who lack the strength to live lives of | feeling, and in whom the sense of self is always ill- defined, are no doubt much less conscious of that state, although they may vaguely sense that some- thing is missing from their lives. The price they pay |. for avoiding the pain of being fully alive is that they are excluded from the pleasure of it as well. They are, therefore, always tempted by any promise of | pleasure, hoping that perhaps this time it will not elude them. I understood the most sinister aspect of the phenomenon Vance Packard termed “hidden persua- sion” when I began to consider what it might mean to be weatherless most of. the time and not even realize it. There is nothing obviously “hidden” about what the Pepsi ad is saying; in fact, upon close examination it is hard to believe how straightforward the words are. But the psychological success of the commercial depends upon a lack of self-awareness in the viewer. For while it gives the impression of appealing to the “living” and those with a “‘zest for life,” the ad is actually aimed at the “dead” who experience so little pleasure that they need something to help them “come alive.” A complex and subtle use of the concept of love lies behind the familiar Coca-Cola commercial in which young people from all over the world are brought together on a hilltop in Italy, where they sing (in perfect harmony): I'd like to teach the world to sing In perfect harmony. I'd like to buy the world a Coke And keep it company. I find the appeal of this ad, the music combined with the idea of buying the world a Coke, almost irresistible, a fact that disturbs me when I consider its implications. For one thing, the ad embodies the all too American theory and practice of buying good will, friendship, or even love. This notion is so pervasive at every level of our society that it is pretty much taken for granted—and for some reason has always been neatly associated with Coca-Cola. I remember that when I was in junior high school, if a guy bought me a Coke it was the first sign he was “interested” in me; later, if the relationship turned out to be “the real thing,” he might ask you to go steady with him. The ad illustrates perfectly, if unintentionally, how this economic aspect of court- ship is projected onto the global plane in American foreign relations. We are always happy to buy the world a Coke if we believe that this will keep it in our “company ” rather than the Soviet Union’s or China’s. (I am incidentally reminded of that outrageous scene in Dr. Strangelove in which Peter Sellers is begging Keenan Wynn to shoot open the com box of a Coke machine so he can get a dime to call the President and explain why the world may be about to end. Keenan Wynn reluctantly complies with the request, saying, “Okay, but you're gonna have to answer to the Coca-Cola Company for this.”’) Of course, this kind of sociological analysis is somewhat remote from the ad’s ability to touch people emotionally. On a more personal level, I think it appeals to that sense of com- munity that many of us long for but so rarely experience in contemporary urban life—in fact, you may have lost the knack to experience. The irony about an idea like buying the world a Coke and keeping it company, though, is that it is so abstract it can be employed only in the mind, which means everyone has to experience it alone. Still, the ad always puts me in a mood of buoyancy and good will, although then I don't quite know what to do with these feelings. The words and music inevitably make me smile and think any day now I will begin to show the world all the love I have in my heart, but, need- less to say, I never do. Unfortunately, the “world” is made up of individual people, any one of whom is much more difficult to love than is mankind in general. [ can sit alone and respond to that ad with a sense of joy; but later that same day, if I see an acquaintance who doesn’t see me in the supermarket, [ may still duck down some aisle and linger behind the shelves until he or she is out of sight. It is not that I dislike the person but that I wish to avoid the degree of involvement required for even the most casual conversation. What makes the jingle in the Coke ad so appealing is that it allows you to participate momentarily in a kind of love that is not dangerous or painful to you, a kind that makes no demands. Actually, loving an- other individual (the real “real thing’’) always involves the terrible risk of being hurt, which simply does not enter into the notion of buying the world a Coke and keeping it company. Ann Nietzke From “The American Obsession with Fun” Copyright 1972 Saturday Review, Inc., August 26, 1972 201 pe 202 Light up light up Light up you lazy blue eyes Moon’s up night’s up Taking the town by surprise a Ae ae “-ee27 ° Night time night time Day left an hour ago City light time Must you get ready so slow There are places to come from and places to go Night in the city looks pretty to me Night in the city looks fine Music comes spilling out into the street Colors go flashing in time Take off take off Take off those stay-at-home blues Break off shake off Take off those stay-at-home blues Stairway stairway Down to the crowds in the street They go their way Looking for faces to greet But we run on laughing with no one to meet Night in the city looks pretty to me Night in the city looks fine Music comes spilling out into the street Colors go waltzing in time. Night in the City by Joni Mitchell Peridots and periwinkle blue medallions Gilded galleons spilled across the ocean floor Treasure somewhere in the sea and he will find where Never mind their questions there’s no answer for The roll of the harbor wake The songs that the rigging makes The taste of the spray he takes And he learns to give He aches and he learns to live He stakes all his silver On a promise to be free Mermaids live in colonies All his seadreams come to me The Dawntreader by Joni Mitchell City satins left at home I will not need them I believe him when he tells of loving me. Something truthful in the sea your lies will find you Leave behind your streets he said and come to me Come down from the neon nights Come down from the tourist sights Run down till the rain delights you You do not hide Sunlight will renew your pride Skin white by skin golden Like a promise to be free Dolphins playing in the sea All his seadreams come to me Seabird I have seen you fly above the pilings I am smiling at your circles in the air I will come and sit by you while he lies sleeping Fold your fleet wings I have brought some dreams to share A dream that you love someone A dream that the wars are done A dream that you tell no one but the grey sea They'll say that you re crazy And a dream of a baby Like a promise to be free Children laughing out to sea All his seadreams come to me I n the new play Twigs, the female lead is preparing a Thanksgiving dinner for a load of visiting relatives, and sighs, “This holiday is an awful lot of work—no wonder no other country celebrates it!” This line gets a hearty laugh from the audience, because Thanksgiving is a lot of work for the house- wife—but | also happen to think that it is the “purest” holiday of the year. What I mean by that odd adjective is that all other holidays are perverted by personal greed or national pride or ethnic vanity or commercial consid- erations; and Christmas most of all has notoriously turned from a meaningful religious observance to a frenzied exchange of nondurable goods. Thanksgiving alone has retained its original character. Except for a few turkey growers and cranberry dispensers, nobody is desperately trying to capitalize on this holiday; even the politicians have not been able successfully to exploit its theme, as they have everything else from Labor Day to the Fourth of July. It is a pity no other country celebrates it, for it is the one universal holiday, larger in concept than any one country, larger in loyalty than any one religion; for it praises the process of creation and _ the munificence of nature in giving so freely what we take for granted all the rest of the year. This is a bountiful world we live in, and we take more from it than we give to it. We take not only from creation itself, but from generations of the past, the fruits of whose labor we enjoy with almost no awareness of the pains and perils attending it. Such unawareness—such unconscious ingratitude— inculcates in people a dangerous pride, a hardness of heart, a false sense of self-sufficiency. Thanksgiving, in its own modest way, tries to remind us of how much we owe to forces outside ourselves; and how much all of us, regardless of sta- tion, are in the hands of Providence. Its singular glory is that it is, at once, the most universal, the most religious, and the most democratic of holidays. Sydney Harris Dist. by Publishers-Hall Syndicate 206 From The Opening Editorial Statement In The First Issue of World | Edith are undergoing a vast experience in the de-mystification of tribalism. Old ideas of separatism and group identity don’t move men as much as new perceptions of human solidar- ity. What is happening is that the human race is fighting back. It is responding to the accumu- lation of dangers and terrors that could put a torch to the human nest. It is facing up to the bizarreness of gamesmanship applied to human destiny, and to the insanity of making the earth a warehouse for holcaust-producing weapons. It dares to think that ethics can be applied to the behavior of nations and that a time is fast approaching when men will not be ordered to kill or be killed. All sorts of magnificent notions are at large in the human mind today, and the most revolutionary notion of all is that the problem of human survival is not beyond human intelligence. This is not to say hope comes easily. It is not easy to put aside saturating evidence of spontaneous brutality. [t is not easy for humans to find their way back to one another in tender- ness and trust. For it is not governments alone that traffic in quick violence and_ the cheapening of life. The road to Mylai is not so far from Main Street that our eyes are free of its dust. Nor is it easy to live with the know- ledge that all the accumulated works and art of man can be expunged in a brief paroxysm of terror and madness. Yet the knowledge is taking hold that these things need not be. The starting point for a better world is the belief that it is possible. Civilization begins in the imagination. The wild dream is the first step to reality. It is the direction-finder by which men locate higher goals and discern their highest selves. If we can conceive of a safe and responsible design for our collective lives, we are already well on the way to achieving it. Hope therefore is on solid ground not when it is confined to demonstrated propositions but when it can spring out of sudden new perceptions. Hope may _ be fortified by experience but that is not where it begins. [It begins in the certainty that things can be done that have never been done before. This is the ultimate reality and it defines the uniqueness of the human mind. a ah “ te eee a eeenin TS PAR Des bd hed ei eee er eteteteierttt: 215 Thph Desi biel eheeetete PETTERS HAP SNNN EE EEE bows and flows of angel hair, and ice cream castles in the air. and feathered canyons every where, ive looked at clouds that way. But now they only block the sun, they rain and snow on every one, so many things | would have done, but clouds gol in my way. Judy Collins oF Pe ine sigue Ss; ad a 4 — a if a ‘ ’ - 1 x ( a sent e aei es, ‘ t enttitethie Porat sy on wey - . Sia is EO ates oe MRR TEE � GENS = es a = a yess Los ARR ae EN me SOTO he Sa DE RE LRN ES LS OA NALIN NAT EE st! 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