Temple University - Templar Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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temple university of the commonwealth system of higher education

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We planned the 1971 TEMPLAR with the idea of showing the mood and the events of the year. Almost two hundred pages of the trivia of the ‘70 book were omitted to present just the essence of these matters. We wanted to show what was behind the Panther convention in McGonigle Hall, the deferred payment issue, and the dorm crisis in November. We hoped to show an accurate view of university-community relations and of Temple's power structure. To do this we asked the people who were involved with the issues to write the indepth articles our staff, not being as closely involved, could not duplicate. To help cope with the impossible task of portraying the reactions of even the some 2400 seniors who would be receiving this book, we invited them, through an ad in the Temple NEWS, to tell us about their Temple experience. We were disappointed by everyone we turned to. The BSL, probably our best source of black student feeling oji campus, decided at a general meeting that the yearbook was not important enough to spend the time writing for. Even the seniors who would be the first to complain if they didn't like their book were too bus or found it too unimportant a matter to make the book in some way theirs. We received only three voluntary 50 word paragraphs; the others were drafted from the staffs friends. Only the professors and members of the administrative offices we asked to write gave us good articles within the time limit, and for this we thank them. Maybe the yearbook is an unimportant artifact of past college days. This all to distinct possibility was one that disturbed the editors more and more as each deadline was planned, worked on, and eventually met. Perhaps people no longer want to see their faces and activities, or lack of them, and someone else's description of their university. Maybe this is the last yearbook as such that Temple University will have. If the need for such a publication no longer exists, or can not be fdled by one such as this, then a TEMPLAR 1972 should not happen.

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ELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHELLOHEL by Linda Holtzman August 1970 Irony of all ironies lurks before a Temple student as he first sees the campus. The trudge from the inimitable Broad Street subway reveals dark ulley-ways, broken-down stores, irreparable houses, and, gleaming in their midst, the modern, spotless walls of Temple University. My mind is not a totally illogical one. but somehow. even at first, it could not comprehend this strange juxtaposition. The overwhelming feeling I had upon entering the campus was one of inadequacy; how could I. a mere number on an eternal list of numbers, ever hope to do anything aliout changing these glaring incongruities? The shrieking voices coming from Hardwick Hall brought me back to reality. As I forced myself to stop melting into the sidewalk. a rather lost-looking student approached, banging a slightly bulging, well-stickered suitcase along with her Wranglered knee. 'Are you a freshman? she asked shyly. I wondered what gave me away; was il the tears in my eyes, or my blue quivering lips? Whatever it was. a friendship had been founded. Suddenly. Temple seemed a little less foreboding. Before, 1 hadn't stopped to realize that in the multitude of students, there might be one who could be reached on a personal level. From that moment on. I felt almost positive about Temple. As we waited in line after line. I imagined my next four years | ent in waiting: in lines for room keys, group leader numbers, linens and towels, booklets, and innumerable tags. I began wondering about the lack of organization that seemed to exist, but decided that it might only In- an exaggeration of my too vivid imagination. My small-town, sugar-sweet roommate and I seemed to have nothing hi common, but the first girl I’d met spared me. I preceded to spend a grand total of three hours in my room the entire three days. Most of the time was spent on elevators that stopped on cver ' floor. Most of the people I met were also riding elevators. The next best method for meeting people was merely sitting at a table of total strangers for meals. To my great disappointment. however. I found myself staying with a limited cross’d of people, most of whom I already knew. In a huge cross'd like that of orientation, it is much easier to confine oneself to one's own friends Getting to know well more than one or tsvo people is close to impossible. This situation predicted a difficult four years. Surprisingly, much of the material presented, was not typical college propaganda, overflowing with whipped cream and cherries. Even the dynamic, bubbling group leaders were honest and straightforward. No one attempted to hide Temple's failures, instead they tried to show its successes, and to allow us to weigh the scales. Creativity. the theme of a film we w ere shown, seemed to be a general goal sought by Temple as a school. I could sense the school groping for personal creativity to override the stilted, automated impression a large college so easily acquires. By the orientation's close, the unpronounceable names of countless organizations that one must be active in to make the most of your college education swam in my l «-luddled head. Gay Liberation Front especially impressed me. Resistance and Student Mobilization Committee blended with countless anti-war groups, all preaching similar doctrines with differences in methodology. However, beneficial the ideal of an organizational seminal was. the presentation left much to be desired. As an unknow ing. very confused new student, the maze of groups seemed to lie an almost witchlike beckoning to all young innocents. Temple is a racist institution, depriving lioth blacks and whites of the chance to communicate with each other. I arrived at this conclusion almost immediately. A black group sounded like a grand idea for blacks to discuss mutual problems, but can these problems be solved by isolation? How can blacks adjust to a predominantly white institution if. at their orientation, they are never exposed to whites? On Wednesday night, sve participated hi the great white farce, a panel discussion on racism to which no black students were invited We had three blacks talking to hundreds of white students who nearly pleaded with the leaders to invite the black group. Our pleas were ignored, and Temple's administration once again appeared to be an insurmountable block, thwarting all hops- of progress. Swimming tests, course selections, campus tours all passed with stings of excitement, disappointment, and fun. Ghoosmg a roster was as close to impossible as anything I've ever done. Mobs beating against tables shouting Poli Sci 12!. English 31! , But 1 can't he in school at four AM! penetrated the air. Lying on one of the few expanses of grass on campus proved to be an effective means of rest from this form of mind massacre. Sitting quietly at night, soothed by the gentle voice of a charming folk-singer also helped reverse the hectic mood. The prcvelant. calm post-midi light conversations helped close any further lingering gap. so that by morning, all fear and disappointment, all paranoia and desperation had vanished. Temple, like any other school is composer! of people, tadical and reactionary, boisterous and demure, friendly and cold, but all only | cople. Orientation's most important function. then, was to give each freshman a glimpse at his fellow-students and to help him see into them a little better December 1970 Irony of all ironies lurks before a Temple student every time he sees the campus. After a full semester, at Temple, I still can not accustom myself to Temple's eerie glow against a background of squalor. Now. however, I do not feel as useless as at first. There are means. I have found, to work through Temple's enormities in tutoring projects and special sociology and political science classes that deal with urban problems in a very realistic way. I am not a mere number unless I let myself be one; every student can contribute as an individual. Not only can each student give to school projects, but each student can give of himself to others in the school. The massive shriek of orientation has. In my expectant ears, been diffused into individual voices, each one saying something. At orientation. I clung to the closest, safest voice; now, Temple has. in some unexplainable way. forced me to look beyond my previous limits. I have met some of the world's most fascinating people, each one delivering a unique message to the world, a far cry from my previous feelings of mass identity or of stilted individualism. Line upon line upon line was an accurate first impression of Temple’s daily life. Food. Iiooks, lull payments and meetings with