Towson University - Tower Echoes Yearbook (Towson, MD)

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THE TOWER LIGHT Enthusiastic Babble ACH fall on returning to school, it seems that everyone except me is enthsiastically bubbling over with interesting conversation, but this year I, too, am joining the ranks of the enthusiastic, for I have chosen a some what different means of conveying my experiences to my friends and others who appear to be curious about .three months of my life. The TOWER LIGHT enables me to tell my story to all my friends at once, and it keeps the story from becoming more vivid each time it is told. Summer came. With no prospects of a vacation in view, a desire to work possessed me. However, lack of experience was a handicap, so I called for the aid of influential friends. Almo-st before I was aware of what had happened, I had become inveigled into directing a group of children, seven to ten years of age, in a rhythm orchestra. I became panicky. What was a rhythm orchestra? I-Iow did one begin? How did one continue after having once begun? My eight years of musical training seemed meager for the task, but thanks to Diller and Page my problems were soon solved and a happy summer amid the clamor of drums, tom-toms, cymbals, tambourines, triangles and sand- blocks ensued. Almost too soon we found ourselves preparing for an exhibition. From fifty children on one day to seven on another, we finally emerged with a group of twenty in a final performance. The children marched to their seats which were placed in typical orchestral arrangement. At a given piano signal from me, a jitter in the balcony, the conductor's baton came down, and- amazing- all instruments began their parts together. The children carried on nobly throughout their two selections, and soon all was over. Still excited to the core, Iwent to congratulate them on their accomplishment. And I completed a happy experience amid such exclamations as Oh, Miss Kovitz, how were we?u Did we play all right? I tried so hard not to look at the balcony, and It was so hard to keep from laughing. F. Kovirz, Jr. 3. q2QCgQS a War Great scourge! Hell on this earth Looking e'er for new birth, I pray that you will come no more, Damned war! BOSLEY ROYSTON, '37. 12

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THE TOWER LIGHT The Misunderstood Sailor The life of the sailor is the greatest contradiction in the world. Throughout a trip he talks of how he wants to get ashore and once ashore he pines away till he is once more at sea. Although woefully underpaid, and although he will strike for an icebox, he refuses to strike for more money. Reason-more money, more drunk, more sick. Although gener- ally possessed of a minimum of education, he is better read and better versed in the articles of today than most people ashore. The sailor learns complicated knots to secure his A. B. ticket but never ties them again. His swearing is continuous and monotonous, consisting mostly of Blank the blanking ship, blank itll, Loudly he complains cf the horrible gyping the captain is committing through the Slop Chest, but in port he is in such a hurry to get ashore that he never tries for satisfaction. He lives in a foc'sl twelve feet by twenty feet with nine other sailors, and keeps it neater than the average living room. Off watch, he takes a bath and goes to sleep in a bunk overrun with bugs. With the very lowest grade of food, poor sanitary conditions, continually sur- rounded by iilth, the Seaman still manages to be the healthiest of humans. He boasts throughout the voyage of his conquests of women, but is embarrassed among girls until he has had several drinks. He is absolutely certain that the money to run his seaman's union comes from Moscow, but he is no Communist. lnvariably he is tattoed and just as invariably he wishes he had not been. The Sword Line is a good line to ship on, he declares, the decks are so thin that rust can't be chipped without putting holes in the metal. The sailor is absolutely the laziest man in the world, averaging twelve hours of sleep a day, but in times of emergency he can go a week without even a nap. The sailor reads the Sea Scout Manual and has to turn to the Glossary to understand the salty terms used. Gentlemen, hats off to the misunderstood sailor, with all his faults, he is the friend to his friends in the world. E. MERTON FISHEL, Sr. 7 QRQDQQSF Evening The saddest part of the day had come: the time when the sun reluctantly, caressingly withdrew. A bronze cross atop the red brick church offered consolation to the bereaved valley, and yellow corn shocks seemed to have absorbed some of the splendor of their departing monarch. Scarlet clouds formed a royal pathway for His Majesty's flaming farewell. MARJORIE MCBRIDE, '3 7. 11

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THE TOWER LIGHT What Will You Do About It? ORKING each school day with a group of tuberculous youngsters makes me feel more and more strongly the inadequacy of our present laws. We, who are supposed to have reached a high standard of civilization, have really only begun. It is true, money is given yearly from the pockets of the rich and poor alike for the care of the unfortu- nates. Proud donors 'of large sums to the Community Fund and Tuber- culosis Association lean back in satisfaction and say, Oh yes, I contri- buted to that just cause . But, if after they had given this money, they would only think how they could prevent the cause which calls for the money, then they could heave a sigh of complete satisfaction. Tuberculosis is a dreadful disease. Those who do not come in daily Contact with it are fortunate. They whisper in grave and lamenting tones about their friends who are so unfortunately doomed. lt is indeed fitting to be grave, but the whisper should become a shout-a shout of protest. Daily, hundreds of people are admitted to institutions for the medica- tion and hospitalization necessary for the cure of tuberculosis. Through the unfailing care and study of these people by doctors and nurses the Tuberculosis Association and Medical science have learned much about the disease. What good is all their untiring work if laws do not force the use of this knowledge? Millions of dollars have been spent to help hun- dreds who should never have had the disease. Then why do they have it? The answer to this, in a great many cases, is again, inadequate laws. Returning to the children in whom I am particularly interested, l believe I am justified in saying that in nearly all cases judicial neglect has caused these bedridden, crippled children to be in the hospital. Dr. Brailey, from Johns Hopkins, Harriet Lane Clinic, pointed out in a lecture to some teachers recently that tuberculosis is not an hereditary disease. Children who contract the disease have gotten it because they have been closely associated with parents or relatives who have the disease. Of course, many mothers little know they are bestowing a lifetime of pain upon a baby when giving it a kiss. But even if they do know, many parents are unwilling to part with their children and at present there is no law to make them. It may seem strange that parents, who have even been in sanitoriums and realize their condition would give birth to children who might suffer as they do, but it is true. Not long agol had as a pupil a little girl six years old. She had tuberculosis of the hip and was in the hospital for over a year. For many months she was strapped to a frame with a cast from her waist to her toes. She is now walking with crutches and in all probability will do so for years to come. l3