University of Kentucky - Kentuckian Yearbook (Lexington, KY)

Text from Pages 1 - 312 of the 1973 volume:

Kentuckian 73 University of Kentucky Lexington, Kentucky in search of Knowledge, Truth sometime, together i v' 'v V 1 ....... • ,... • ;V V � t 4 i.-' Py f;i f' r ' • . ■ v |W; - MMH| w % Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of Adolph, I will fear no evil. Somebody said it years ago. “I want to be the man who follows the man who fol- lows Adolph Rupp.” There was a cruel message hidden in that jest. The message said that Adolph Rupp’s successor as University of Ken- tucky basketball coach would be de- stroyed. Overcome by a 42-year accumu- lation of success. Lost in the shadow of a legend. Torn by incessant criticism. Ban- ished, ultimately, by worshippers of past glories who created more pressure than one man could stand up to. Then, along would come the succes- sor’s successor. But it looks like he might have to wait . . . 42 years? Because Joe Hall beat the pressure. Joe Hall beat the second-guessers. Joe Hall beat Tennessee. By God, Joe Hall even beat Austin Peay! The first season after Rupp’s remark- able career ended was a mind-blower. It was losing three straight. It was losing a home opener. It was losing to Ole Miss. It was getting so bad-off that only nine straight victories could make things right, and then getting the nine straight victo- ries ... It was fans in love with players, good vibes, players free to talk to the press . . . But mostly it was Joe Hall, and that is ironic, because the good old boy from Cynthiana had a style directly opposite from Adolph. He said the season be- longed to the players. He shied away from even hinting, in any public state- ment, that any player had ever played a rotten game . . . although those who at- tended practice regularly could tell you that his sarcasm was sharp, funny, devasting. What it comes down to is this: You can almost forget Jim Andrews mostly-suc- cessful struggle with indifference, Kevin Grevey’s dramatic emergence as a super clutch scorer, Mike Flynn’s agonizing fight to realize his potential, Ronnie Lyon’s relentless hustle, Jimmy Dan Con- ner’s cocky country charisma, and all the rest . . . You can almost forget it all be- cause of what Joe Hall did, and because of what it meant. Joe Hall kept truckin’. Joe Hall never stopped teaching. Joe Hall paid his dues. Joe Hall took off his coat and went to war for his players. Joe Hall, for all of his smooth, slick, mild-mannered image, looked the pressure in the face and spit at it. In the end, Joe Hall did that which is universally agreed to be the hardest thing to do. He did what was expected of him. And he did it the hard way. Wow, did he do it the hard way . . . Pre-season was spooky, sweaty, vio- lent. Hall seemed to know exactly what was waiting for him and so did the play- ers, even the sophomores. There was a fight here and there. A lot of talent and pride packed together along with aching muscles, biting criticism from the coach (for which he earned hateful stares at times), a touch of fear and dread, maybe, of what lay ahead . . . Anyway, there was a fight here and there. And drills . . . running drills, jumping drills, one-on-one combat, running back- wards, running up steps . . . There was something else. Grevey, sick with the flu, stayed in the Hall home un- til he recovered. Conner had the squad over for dinner at his grandmother’s house. Hall had the squad over for dinner at his house. Often. It was a long, hard time before they got it together. But they got themselves to- gether first. It helped. 43 mi People who had no idea what Joe Hall was like decided he was faceless. It even got into the newspapers. Faceless! Like the Man From Glad, maybe? Or an absent-minded professor who sat on the bench by mistake? Or a Clark Kent without muscles? Adolph came to the Iowa game. Joe took popcorn to Der Baron’s seat. “Hello, Adolph!” sang the students. Then, “Hello, Joe!” Then, Iowa beat the hell out of Kentucky. In a home opener. First time since 1962. Oh, Gawd . . . Joe looked faceless, that night. Looked like a loser, too. But a storm was building inside him. He would show that he had a face that could launch a thou- sand technical fouls. He had a team that was letting him down, too, and he started getting on ev- erybody’s case. It was funny sometimes. Like when Joe said to Poochy the ref- eree, “Here, let me hold the towel for you,” and Pooch said, “Joe, I ain’t here for no damn of- ficials’ clinic,” and Joe said, “I was just trying to be helpful, Poochy.” Suddenly Joe had a face. A fighter’s face. Hello. Joe! EmSSSm At Freedom Hall, North Caro- lina went ahead by 26 points. It was humiliating. UK slashed the margin to six before losing 78-70, leaving its record 1-3. Hall went onto the court, and also stomped on his suitcoat, and also lifted a scorer’s book and slammed it to the floor. The crowd was ugly . . . there was a near-brawl among the players it didn’t solve UK’s prob- lems. But the Wildcats did get meaner. Yet they continued to grope about in the darkness. They lost and they even looked bad winning. If Hall was suffering, what about his athletes? Expected to win. The sophomores were wearing UK varsity blue for the first time. Stumbling about, fail- ing .. . It was a gut-tester. No ■ MIKE FLYNN is not really a gazzelle. He just runs like one and is almost as quiet and shy. For three months he was a bundle of nerves. Then he went to war at Alabama and the tall, tough, super-quick guard that had been hiding in his head came out to play. Flynn got caught out of the dorm. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t QUICK. KEVIN GREVEY came off a cereal box, maybe, or a sports book for little boys. Looks, brains, talent, per- sonality, all that. And a pure 100 per cent certified University of Kentucky shooting touch. When he began to heat up, drop- ping 33 points on ’Bama at Tuscaloosa and 40 on Georgia at Athens, the SEC got a bad case of worries. JIM ANDREWS had one certainty to cling to. He knew that many people would blame him for ev- ery loss. But Andrews be- came the certainty that UK clung to. A thoroughly pleasant, bright, frank- spoken dude. He wasn’t super, just a helluva lot better than a lot of other centers. There was a touch of the day-dreamer in him. Right on! BOB GUYETTE looks like an ancient Viking. The big guy had the sophomore blues, and foul trouble, which is often the same thing. But he kept on truckin’. Because he did, there was some truly dazzling bench relief inside him for both NCAA Regional games. RONNIE LYONS was not all motion and dazzle. There were times when it hurt him to move at all. He had a kidney infection. He was found to be suffering from anemia. He sprained an ankle. He pulled a groin muscle. Who remembers? It is his relentless hustle that lingers in the mind, like the blurred color of a passing car. JIMMY DAN CONNER was a new kind of UK player. He seemed to be trying to mix a dancer’s finesse with a brawler’s bluntness, and sometimes he seemed to pull it off. Color him country-sophisticated. And in- dispensible. They don’t make box scores to include some of the things J.D. did. LARRY STAMPER was the moun- tain man whose shooting touch was more like a crash. But in tight spots, he was there. He rebounded and played defense like most folks breathe and eat. And against Aus- tin Peay he blew everybody’s mind. But that is getting ahead of the story. RICK DREWITZ was a quizzical mixture of detached intellectual and devout religious student and frustrated bench-sitter. He played some and stuck it out. It wasn’t easy. When a guy loves the game, he stays in there. RAY EDELMAN. Easterner. Son of a coach. Smart, nice guy, team player. One other thing: He can shoot. From anywhere. Cold, off the bench, on the run, he can shoot. Everyone knew he could do it because he went out and did it. Quiet Ray let his fingers do the talking. JERRY HALE kept his fan club high by running and diving and scrapping, the way he did for the Super Hicks at Floyd Central High back home in Indiana. That was in the good old days. Hale didn’t play nearly as much as a college soph- omore. But if UK hadn’t given them a little Hale here and a little Hale there, the good old days might have come a lot sooner. STEVE LOCHMUELLER was friendly the way guys are friendly who could snap you like a toothpick. A nice guy living in a house of muscle. A hook shot like Hagan, a re- bounding attitude like the Purple Gang. He came off the bench like a runaway train. Alabama (among others) never wants to see 1 him again. G. J. SMITH collapsed in pain during the UKIT and stayed in the background after that. His outside gun- ning was needed, of- ten. So was his spirit. The guy who had played in the State Tournament with a broken foot ended up with a torn-apart knee. But he’ll be back; just as skinny, and gunning just as much. liiihltliiri Therefore doth Heaven divide The state of man in diverse functions Setting endeavor in continual motion . . . —Shakespeare, King Henry V, 1598 This figured to be the end. Somehow they made it a beginning . . . See Vandy’s Butch van Breda Kolf offering his hand to Lyons and Hall? His father’s a coach, so he understands. See Grevey, buried in the towel? He fouled out. What happened, see, was this: UK lost close road games to Tennessee and Vandy, but then took an- other trip and beat LSU and Alabama. It looked so good it was unbelievable. Until Vandy came to town and became the first SEC team since 1967 to beat UK at Lexington. Now, THAT was unbelievable. Night- mare stuff. See Jim Andrews after the Vandy loss? Con- gratulating Ray Maddux. Is that treason, or class? Make Jim Andrews classy all the way. He would be back, only nobody knew it that night. There was a time when whupping ’Bama up aside the head was taken for granted. But not this Crimson Tide team, his monster that C. M. Newton went down from Lexington and built like a Dr. Frankenstein. UK had caught ’Bama at home with a No. 6 national ranking and a big head and won a crazy game 95-93, but some folks said ’Bama was so good, SO GOOD, that UK would be in trouble on its own court. It is not enough to say that UK assumed a lead of 22-2 in this game. Say rather that UK took the 22-2 lead against a great basketball team. Then you get a rough idea. But if you didn’t see it, man, you should apologize. President Singletary’s wife, Glo- ria, brought us food during the wait to get in for the Tennessee game. There was some hassling with the cops. But hell, if you’re waiting up to 40 hours on concrete, and you’re getting paranoid, and watching dogs eat pizzas and wor- rying about people shoving past you . . . By this time the students had “gotten into” the team. Not be- cause the team was suddenly a winner, with a chance to complete a “miracle comback” by beating Tennessee . . . and not even be- cause Tennessee is THE game . . . but only because the students had gone through some stuff with the team, learned how to love the team. What makes people go through this kind of ordeal to see a GAME? There was no time or inclination to analyze our warped values. We were Kentuckians. We couldn’t explain it, but we understood. BEAT TENNESSEE . . . A few times, it looked like the pressure, the desire to write a storybook ending to the season, the crowd intensity—okay, the crowd’s love—had turned against Joe’s guys. Tightened them up, maybe. Opened the door, maybe, for a climatic disaster instead of a climatic triumph. Up to this time, remember, it had been a season with an equal number of disasters and triumphs. No way. Flynn put too much defense on Ed- wards and Conner put too much defense on Snow. Grevey walked out of a huddle after a timeout and hit four long jump shots in a row. How many limes did Ke- vin do that? Anyway, it was beautiful. Andrews was beautiful. The big man ev- erybody liked to criticize came through once again. BSS339RPW An NCAA Regional is a weird animal. The no-tomorrow pressure puts real static in the air. The fans in the arena are packed together tight, all hot and tired and edgy and hotel-hassled . . . Even if noth- ing ever happens, the hint of violence seems sus- pended in the air like a cloud. And the drunks, boost- ers, root-toot-tooters, TV crews . . . Players’ families dressed in Easter-bright sort of outfits, huddling to- gether in the hotel lobby like timid geese . . . The vibes weren’t all good for the Austin Peay game. Another black-white thing, like ’Bama. APSU was a team UK “wasn’t supposed to lose to.” But a good team, too, with nothing to lose. “Super Fly” James Wil- liams had so much ink and so many points. What were Joe and his guys gonna come up with this time? A crazy sort of classic. UK made, what was it, six, no seven, combacks . . . APSU made one near the end to force an overtime . . . UK then won 106-100 when Stamper (yes!) scored the last three field goals of the game . . . Andrews finally wore down APSU’s super-leapers. The big guy got his points. Lyons took a knee to the stomach, lost all his wind, but came back . . . APSU and Super Fly were great. But the OVC lost this round. Hall’s team would have liked to win more convincingly. But they weren’t about to give it back. It was theirs. Then came Indiana . . . Indiana was more dangerous than dazzling, but we knew that already. The Hoosiers didn’t care about tempo. To them, a fast break was something that hap- pened when you looked up the floor and the other team wasn’t there. Defense was Indiana’s meat. They made you pay for every inch of the floor. If you got from halfcourt to your foul line, you considered it a pattern. UK started fast and jumped ahead with an old Kentucky Home running game. Then ev- erything unwound. Nothing worked. The Hoosiers got up by 13, 15 points. It began to get em- barrassing. Until . . . Until the Wildcast went to war after halftime. Until they came all the way back, not just part-way, and then tied it, and then, yes, went ahead . . . Mostly, again, because of An- drews, who for a couple of un- forgettable stretches was mag- nificent around the basket. Indiana seized a tiny straw of momentum in the last two minutes, turned it into a club and whupped UK up aside the head with it. The story of a gutsy, truly exciting season now seemed, in the bitter aftermath of defeat, to consist only of a shot that rimmed out, a pass that slipped away, a traveling viola- tion, an air-ball . . . But that wasn’t the story. Bobby Knight knew it wasn’t. Hall’s friend and fishing buddy, Knight grabbed the mi- crophone and said, “I’d rather go fishing with you any time than play against your team.” Knight doesn’t say things just to be nice. And, anyway, UCLA found out about Indiana the next week. And a lot of people had found out about Joe Hall and Kentucky. It looked like Joe was here to stay. It had been a memo- rable first year and a damn good show. Soon fades the spell, soon comes the night; Say will it not be then the same, Whether we played the black or white, Whether we lost or won the game? —Lord MaCaulay, 1842 OPPONENT UK OPP Michigan State 75 66 Iowa 66 79 Indiana 58 64 North Carolina 70 78 Nebraska 85 60 Oregon 95 68 Kansas 77 71 Notre Dame 65 63 Mississippi 58 61 Miss. State 90 81 Florida 95 65 Georgia 89 68 Tennessee 64 65 Vanderbilt 75 76 LSU 86 71 OPPONENT UK OPP Alabama 95 93 Vanderbilt 76 83 Auburn 88 57 Mississippi 88 70 Miss. State 100 87 Florida 94 83 Georgia 99 86 LSU 94 76 Alabama 111 95 Auburn 91 79 Tennessee 86 81 Austin Peay 106 100 Indiana 65 72 — Overtime Record: 20-8; SEC (14-4) George Chester Erhart Getting Together rWfHHBHE cragmnin; Wilderness Survival Training WST began as the Free U. class “Sur- vival” in the fall of 1970. During the past semester, more than ninety students learned roping and rappeling techniques at Indian Falls on an 85-foot cliff. Canoe- ing lessons began on Mill Creek Lake and ended on the Rockcastle River. 98 on E KWWKW Earl Scruggs and The Nitty-Gritty Dirt Band 7 Bella Abzug otrtx gtfTfi inrPtttifr Otis Singletary takes a lot of flack. From the Board of Trustees. From the students. From the state. In fact he catches hell from just about every direction. You often hear about Singletary coming here from the University of Texas where he was Vice-Chancellor. But you don’t hear too much about how he organized the Job Corps working with Sarge Shriver (remem- ber him) and Lyndon Johnson. Since he came here in 1969, he’s been blamed for just about everything from or- dering the national guard on campus in 1970 to misallocating “academic” funds to build a stadium in 1973. He did neither, but you’d never believe that by listening to some people. You don’t hear about any of the positions he holds in national educational groups or, for that matter, about any of the educa- tional magazines for which he serves on the editorial boards. And you definitely don’t hear about some of the things he’d like to do if his hands had not been tied by people like Louie Nunn. We’ve seen him called the “jock” presi- dent for his interest in athletics, yet we overlook the fact that he was instrumental in the retiring of Adolph Rupp. What kind of a University president would bother to take 300 warm sandwiches to students spending a cold night in line waiting for football tickets. Who else would take the time to come to a student’s birthday party and sit around and drink a few beers with him and his friends. Who would devise a plan which would invite every freshman to Maxwell Place during the year to meet the president. How many times have you walked past his house on a warm evening and seen him shooting basketball or playing horseshoes with a bunch of people (students, if you will). It would be really easy to understand the flack if Dr. Singletary fit the pattern of Uni- versity presidents . . . Adron Doren, Bob Martin, etc. Somehow, though, it’s good that he doesn’t. Just how many times have you seen Otis Singletary when he is not talking to a stu- dent or about the University? DR. JAMES GLADDEN was honored twice this year for his teaching. He was one of six to receive the Alumni Association’s “Great Teacher Award.” On the national level, Dr. Gladden was named as the outstanding man teaching in the field of Family Relations. Of his 5000 colleagues, he was recipient of the Ernest G. Osborne Teaching Award. “It is very significant that the key word used in both awards is teacher—not scholar or profes- sor, but teacher. That is what I’ve intended to be. The word teacher signifies that you’re per- sonally involved with your students. This takes all of your time, and that’s the way I like it.” Dr. Gladden teaches Sociology courses in both the Family, and Religion and Culture. Both courses bring a wide variety of people and Dr. Gladden likes that. As many students consult with him concerning their personal problems as do those seeking academic help. Dr. Gladden left the ministry in order to work with students. “I felt preventative counseling is more important than curative, which is the case when working with older groups.” Since Dr. Gladden is so involved with his stu- dents and family researching, he finds little time to write for scholarly journals. Caught in this publish-or-perish noose, Dr. Gladden is one of the lowest paid full-professors on the campus. It is a shame that such an outstanding teacher as James Gladden must be penalized for being a true educator—catering both to the academic and personal needs of his students. The University of Kentucky needs more teachers like Dr. James Gladden. gmmnnnffBni “You can’t smoke America .to her knees.” Julian Bond •“it i 'K; •UHtMidu ikiitMl'i IHBBniiSnntn 'S$fc- 'r. - ■.kiidtlu' FOUR MORE YEARS? By Pat Schneider Once again it was election time in this country, and as before, Quinn the Eskimo slep quietly while most only half expected his arrival. It had been a long time gone, and at least another four years would pass before the light of day. If the issues were muffled in the election of ’72 the choice was clear. The old tweedly-doo tweedly-pooh defense of apathy didn’t apply to this race. The men were different in a fundamental sense that ignited many heated exchanges between friends and open warfare within families. The traditional Democratic alliance of la- bor, minorities and Catholics disintegrated. The Wallace vote found a new home in the Republican camp while many Democrats felt their home had been invaded by the enemy. George McGovern had taken the lead from Ed Muskie early in the winter. It mat- tered little that both men were liberal and had very similiar stands on most issues. Muskie was de fide acceptable to the party regulars and McGovern was de fide not ac- ceptable, and became less acceptable the more he was heard from. Although the lead was a source of pain and embarrassment for the party regulars, there was no denying the momentum building in the McGovern campaign. Confident that his rules guaran- teeing a more representative convention would nominate the best man, himself, George McGo.vern rode the spring primary trail at full gallop. (It goes without saying that even at full gallop George McGovern was little match for a president jetting to every Commie port in the name of peace.) Another presidential contender was George Wallace, a familiar face to the pres- idential arena, but his campaign was cut short in the spring when Arthur Bremer aimed a pistol at Wallace. And fired. The Deja vu was inescapable. Newscasters again, as before, talked of shock and dis- belief. But, as before we were not shocked and we believed it. The old nausea was there even before the school rumors were confirmed by the news. Wallace survived but was paralyzed from the waist down and the country gained another anti-hero. Arthur Bremer took his place with other ig- nobles: Boothe, Oswald, Ruby, Sirhan Sir- han, and other lesser known micro-entities. Another presidential campaign had ended in bloodshed and the questions of national disease loomed much too heavy. Summer was convention time for both 146 parties and the Democrats—youth, women, and minorities—flocked to Miami. Many thought that the healing of America would soon begin. But not before a couple of scores could be settled with the old guard politicians, best symbolized by Richard Daley who quickly found himself on the outside. Such a curious turn of history sym- bolized much to both sides. The wounds that were opened by this and other fights between the McGovernites and the ABM coalition would not be healed by nostalgic movies of the Kennedys or poses showing Kennedy, Humphrey, Muskie, Jackson, and McGovern embracing each other as old friends. Which indeed they were (and are) but their followers were not embracing, co- operating, or even talking. The “I got you last” sentiment was strong among the tag- gers and the tagged. But the business was completed and McGovern and Eagleton led the ragged troops out. Too many had mis- taken beating the regulars for the real battle and too few who remembered the real battle now much cared who won. In contrast to the Democratic, the Re- publican convention was well-planned, ex- ecuted, and orchestrated. There were no goof-ups with needless debates or fiddle- faddle discussions. The convention had all of the excitement of a U.K. Board of Trustees meeting. The participants had memorized their parts well and the prime- time viewer would not be disappointed twice in the same summer. Enter statesman, moralist, leader, President Richard M. Nixon to take a few hours off from the af- fairs of state to graciously accept renomina- tion. Then off again. The duties and the burdens of the presidency allowing little time for partisan politics. The Republicans completed business as creatively as con- ceived. TV viewers were pleased with the prime-time agenda, and the performance, if inane, had been flawless. Lights dim. The Democrats were last left with McGovern and Eagleton leading a rag-tag bunch of powerless newcomers out of Mi- ami to conquer GOPliath. Unfortunately the Democrat’s two was cut to one when a number of stories began cracking about Eagleton’s depression spells and his past medical history of electroconvulsive shock therapy (EGT). McGovern was 1000% confused by the episode and offered a $1000 reward to ev- ery American if he could be freed of this mess. But the mess got muckier and the campaign slushed full stop to allow time for some noted Democrats to fight some more among themselves. McGovern hid and Eagleton pleaded total naivete and pu- rity (despite his earlier concealment of these treatments.) He was dropped anyway, when McGovern announced that they had agreed that this was the “best course”. An hour later, Eagleton said that he would have preferred to stay on but did not want to divide the party. A day later the Missouri loyalist said that he would not pass up the offer to be the vice-presidential candidate if he could do it again. The monsoon season set in and it rained rejections for days. Em- barrassment and damage compounded. Fi- nally the 92nd choice for running mate, Sar- gent Shriver, took out his John Kennedy autographed tennis racket and whipped the campaign buggy from the slime. Having quorum, the Democrats reached consensus that indeed it was Nixon who was the proper target for all future assaults, and by fall, the prairie conestoga was moving with a semblance of direction. The ’72 election was not without its dip- lomatic problems. Nixon, happy that his opponent was only George McGovern felt he could ignore the Democratic candidate, and let the followers do the campaigning. This left one public contender and one seri- ous contender. Unfortunately for the former, the latter was content with the situation. Thus, the Republican campaign was for- mally kicked off by the number two man, house mouth Spiro Agnew, proclaiming on September 19 that the break-in at the Dem- ocratic Committee Headquarters was set- up by someone attempting to embarrass the Republican party. This Agnew conclusion was prompted by the repeated questions that were surfacing concerning the break-in. A couple of weeks earlier a Federal Grand Jury had handed down indictments against G. Gordon Liddy and E. Howard Hunt, Jr. as well as 5 men arrested at the June 17 break-in. The Justice Department had said these indictments had ended the Watergate investigation, and At- torney General Kleindienst said the investi- gation by the FBI and District Attorney’s of- fice was one of the most “intensive, objective, and thorough in many years.” The case was closed except for some inves- tigation by the General Accounting Office into the handling of a $350,000 campaign contribution by the Committee to Re-elect the President (CREEP). McGovern accused Nixon of ordering a whitewash by the Federal Grand Jury to spare himself embarrassment in an election year, whereby Attorney General Kleindienst appeared on the Dick Cavett Show and insisted that the 7 indicted “gave orders for the raid themselves and were acting without superior authorization.” 149 OBWWRBHR! The Republican campaign was, for the most part, run in such a manner. Nixon played the role of statesman and with this role maintained an above-it-all attitude, while McGovern ran all over the country urging Americans to “Come Home.” The McGovern smoke-’em-out tactics failed and his resemblance to Hubie Humphrey was strengthened the harder he ran. On October 8, a month before the elec- tion, a New York Times survey predicted one of the greatest presidential sweeps in American Presidential history. This pre- diction and others similar to it did little to bolster the McGovern effort. In one of his few campaign stops, Nixon went to Atlanta. And Atlanta went for him. The reception was unprecedented, leaving little doubt where the Wallace vote was go- ing. Nixon referred to his “Southern strategy” as “American strategy,” asserting that he had not appealed to the nation’s fears and cited his stands on bussing as proof. A plea for return to traditional moral values as a cure for everything from marital discord to liberalism capped off a stunning visit to the peach capital. Reaction in liberal corners was primarily gastric, fames Reston wrote that Nixon ad- justs his principles to fit the occasion and asserted that the puzzle about him is that he does the “day’s assignment well, but there are no connecting rods between one day and the next.” Reston further asserted that “these tactics are likely to win for Nixon in the short run, but defeat him and his principles of unifying and governing America in the end.” Locally, both candidates had campaign offices on Main Street in Lexington. Other- wise there were no similarities. The McGovern headquarters was located in the old Lewis Family Clothing Store, which be- fore going out of business had catered to working families. The Nixon headquarters occupied the second floor of the Phoenix Hotel. The local citizens for McGovern-Shriver had put together a minimum security office that was functional, but about as plush as the back room of the Paddock. The workers varied but only slightly. Most were young, liberal, counter-cultural idealists. There were a couple of blacks, a few middle-aged backers, and a scattering of lawyers. The automatic inclusion of these people in the steering committee attested to their scar- city. The hard-core workers were mostly newcomers to the political process and worked their guts out trying to raise a polit- ical wind for the Democratic nominee. The Republicans ran a maximum secu- rity show tha4 included six look-alike ma- trons sitting properly in their matronly dresses (light green has, over the years, proven to be a favorite matronly color) handing out pamphlets to all who entered. Except us. We were greeted with scowls and queries as to our business. David Rob- ertson had come along, and being dressed in his down-home denim jeans, jacket and boots with two cameras slung over his shoulders, drew the most piercing looks. He asked to take a few pictures in the Phoenix Roland’s building which contained nothing more than partiotically decorated wall- sized pictures of Nixon, Agnew, Nunn and Labe Jackson. One matron consulted a sec- ond matron and the first told us that ques- tions like this must be referred to the state chairman and that he would not be in towi until next week. Expressing our apprecia- tion we left and went next door to the state headquarters. Our welcome here was even less hospitable. The six matrons were look- ing their Junior League best, but became slightly ruffled when we decided to take a look around. Before being shown the exit we viewed a wing of no less than twenty suites that were occupied by old men, tele- phones and paper. Money was obviously not the scarcity in the Phoenix that it was at the remodeled Lewis Family Clothing Store. 151 mm: 152 Although neither candidate came to Lex- ington, each made a state visit. Nixon came first and spoke October 26 in Ashland. It had been a generation since the last presi- dential candidate had come, and this was unmistakably big doings there. Three thou- sand crowded into Paul Blazer High School gymnasium while 25,000 gathered outside. Noting that the Paul Blazer “Bobcats” were second in football, Nixon said it was okay for the “Bobcats” to be second, but “we must never let the U.S.A. be second . . . (because) the danger of war would be tre- mendously increased.” Oratory aside, how- ever, the primary purpose of the visit was to boost the campaign of Louie B. Nunn, an old friend of UK students and Republican candidate for the U.S. Senate. “He always found the Oval Office open then,” said Nixon, “and he will in the future.” i October 26 was a big day for Kentucky Nixon supporters, for earlier that day, na- tional security advisor, Henry Kissinger had said that “peace was at hand” in In- dochina and that a final agreement on a cease-fire and political arrangement could be reached in one more negotiating session with the North-Vietnamese “lasting not more than three or four days.” Although his detractors took a somewhat jaundiced view of this eleventh hour rabbit out of the hat, state supporters were stuporous in their amazement at Nixon’s political shrewd- ness. With the election less than two weeks away little Ashland was chosen to pay homage to the noble statesman from Washington. 153 The following Thursday the prairie Con- estoga made a stop at the Cincinnati airport in Florence. Governor Ford, not a particu- larly early admirer of McGovern, was on hand to greet the Democratic contender. “Indeed the citizens of our country do rep- resent a jury,” said Ford. “Five days from now this jury will return to deliberate on such matters such as Watergate, political grain deals with Russia at tax-payers’ ex- pense, secret campaign slush funds, Viet- nam, rising costs and callous vetos of vital legislation to all Americans.” McGovern then crossed the river to give a speech at Ihe University of Cincinnati. In reference to the ironic incident in San Diego where someone yelling at Agnew was slugged in the nose, McGovern said that this was one of the “phony” efforts to dis- rupt the Democratic party, to make them look bad, and to make the president look like a hero. It did look bad. The disrupter, George N. Kianfias, a registered Republican was ar- rested. The man who hit him, however, had once run for sheriff in Emporia, Kansas as a Democrat and he was not arrested or charged. The evening paper in Lexington saw fit to bury the McGovern visit along with his interpretation of the San Diego in- cident deep inside the first section, but gave prominent placement to a story from Jack- son, Michigan. At the Kellog airport there, a youthful onlooker yelled something to McGovern about not having a chance. McGovern responded, “Kiss my—.” Thirty-six hours before the election both Gallup and Harris were predicting that Nixon would get over 500 electoral votes and in excess of 60% of the popular vote. The issues had never really been clari- fied; partially because of the absence of one of the candidates and partially because what each man symbolized meant more than what he said. The greening of America was still incomplete on November 7, 1972 but the fact that Nixon drew most of his support from his trips to see the Commies, was indication that it had at least begun. McGovern talked about admissions of guilt in retreating from Vietnam; Nixon insisted on honor in retreat. Regardless, only the ex- planation differed, the result was the same. McGovern talked of equalization of wealth; Nixon of elimination of discrimination. McGovern urged America to come home; Nixon insisted on the need for a return to traditional morals. The outcome was not a surprise. The landslide came exactly as predicted. McGovern took the defeat hard and Nixon was overwhelmed by it. The concession speech was a brave effort to say that good efforts had not gone in vain. But too much evidence was to the contrary. Nixon, who had captured one third of the Catholic vote and at least half of the youth vote pledged to “to make himself worthy of this victory.” For the next month, Nixon busied him- self with the reshuffling of his administra- tion. Those who had wavered even slightly in their loyalty were replaced. The dis- mantling of the Johnson-initiated social programs was accelerated. And in his bol- dest step to date, Nixon began constructing a super-cabinet. A body that would exist without Congressional approval, public consent, or constitutional authorization. The effect would be to concentrate even more power in the Executive Branch in general and Nixon in particular. As the Chief Executive flexed his man- date-fortified political muscles, Congress recessed for Christmas. Colleges and Uni- versities did likewise. The winter lights, however, burned strong in the White House. And in commemoration of the birth of the prince of peace, American planes conducted the most massive bombing raids ever over Hanoi. As always, we were bombing only “military targets”. Evidence, however, was convincing that either we were being lied to or that military targets were being defined as anything that the military bombs. At home the protest was fierce, but uncoordinated and without focus. The bombing subsided as the in- auguration drew closer, and once again the predictions of peace being at hand were heard. 156 157 On January 20, 1973 Richard M. Nixon protestors gathered in every major Ameri- took the oath of the office of the presidency can city to declare their disapproval ol the for four more years. Paraphrazing the recent bombings. The demonstrations were, words that John Kennedy had used 12 years for the most part, orderly and without vio- before, Richard Nixon urged us to ask not lence. Bitterness was at an all time high but what we could do for our country, but what so was frustration and the popularity ot we could do for ourselves. As he spoke, President Richard M. Nixon. Scott Wendelsdorf, Student Government President Jim Flegle and Peggy Pearson defeated Diane Naser and Mark Hay in the spring student government election. Flegle, un- fortunately, wasn’t present to celebrate because of a debate tour. 169 Futileball 72 John Ray is remembered well and who can explain that? The big man had a voice deeper than a bari- tone moose. He was barrel-shaped, erect, and handsome in a 1935-Hollywood sort of way. Some found his confidence, his exuberance, his self-esteem offensive, especially after it be- came apparent that he could not change the di- rection of Kentucky’s football program. But when he got the axe, after the team broke its heart and its back in a courageous loss to Tennessee, people looked at John Ray—or maybe inside themselves—or, maybe, beyond the misleading statistics of a very frustrating season—and realized that they liked this guy. A newspaper survey revealed that a great ma- jority of people believed John Ray should have gotten a shot at coaching in the new stadium he had campaigned so hard for. But Big John was gone, headed for a job as as- sistant linebacker coach with the Buffalo Bills, and his record said, “Loser.” Most who knew the man didn’t believe it, but they also agreed that maybe it was good for Ray to get the hell out while his sanity and his irrepressible spirit were still intact. What happened during the 1972 season? What did it say about John Ray, his football players, about Ray’s achievements at the end of a four-year struggle? It’s like trying to put together a puzzle. A vio- lent, cloudy, unhappy puzzle. Some said Ray could have kept his job with four victories, and since the vote to banish him was a close one—reportedly 12-8—that probably was the truth. It makes the season hurt a little more. Six of the eight losses could have produced that one victory. Like at North Carolina (20-31) when UK scored first, then got pushed all around, falling behind 17-6 by halftime, then 24-6 early in the third quarter . . . Then knuckled down and went after UNC and drew to within 24-20 . . . Then fumbled near its own goal and died. Other painful memories linger. How about Tulane, when a freakish interception turned a 7- 0 third-quarter lead into a 19-7 loss? Or Georgia, when UK led 7-0 and lost 13-7 in front of groan- ing Homecoming fans? And narrow losses to LSU and Tennessee could have been colossal upsets with some well-executed offense here or there. But Indiana, that was the mind-blower. Imagine falling behind 20-0 in the first quarter against a regional rival before your home fans. Imagine scoring 19 points in the second quarter to trial just 20-19 at the half. And then to take the lead twice after that . . . and mount a last- ditch drive in the closing seconds . . . and have a last-second field-goal attempt drift wide by perhaps two feet. The final score of that game was 36-35. It contained all that was good and bad of Ray’s time at UK. That was the fourth win that got away, the game Ray needed to stay in Lexington. The players’ faces showed it. The season was kicked off with the usual hoopla . . . The cheers turned to disappointed sighs. John Ray suffered the attacks and, finally, the season was over. The record read a harsh 3-8: Villanova Alabama Indiana Miss. State N. Carolina L.S.U. Georgia Tulane Vanderbilt Florida Tennessee 7 Ky. 25 35 Ky. 0 35 Ky. 34 13 Ky. 17 31 Ky. 20 10 Ky. 0 13 Ky. 7 18 Ky. 7 13 Ky. 14 40 Ky- 0 17 Ky. 7 183 tiliiiirt Homecoming queen Debbie Hil- bert is showered with congratulations. 11« Some don’t take going to class and recreation for granted. 197 !1SnvH?U' - ... ,■ -am- ewm Kentucky’s Black By Princess Lawes “Theoretically the negro needs neither segregated school nor mixed school; what he needs is education. What he must re- member is that there is no magic either in mixed schools or in segregated schools. A mixed school with poor and unsympathetic teachers, with hostile public opinion and no teaching of the truth concerning black folks is bad. A segregated school with igno- rant ‘placeholders’, inadequate equipment, poor salary and wretched housing is equally bad. “Other things being equal the mixed school is a broader, more natural basis for education of all youth; it gives wider con- tacts; it inspires greater self-confidence and suppresses the inferiority complex; but things are seldom equal and in that case sympathy, knowledge and the truth out- weigh all that the mixed school can offer.” —W.E.B. DeBois, 1935 The two students walk along going in op- posite directions milling with the crowd for several minutes. They glance at the faces which pass by; not a smile, not a word spoken, just a passing glance; and not even that sometimes. Then out of the sea of faces their two faces emerge. Their eyes meet for second or two; they smile and greetings es- cape their lips. Friends? Acquaintances? Neither. As a matter of fact there is a good chance they have never seen each other be- fore but somehow they feel that they are friends or at least allies. They know that they have a great deal in common. They feel a mutual understand- ing. They can empathize with each other. They have one great cause for which to fight. You see they are both black and that one fact seems to say it all. How can the mere color of one’s skin tell that much in a passing glance? “Black is not a mere color of skin,” said one student, “but, rather it is a state of mind—a state of being—and the black student at UK needs this kind of empathy in order to survive.” For most black students at UK the year began, progressed and ended just the way they had expected it to—dismal, cruel and hopeless. They had found UK to be a basi- cally “racist institution,” at which “no one is making a serious attempt to change.” In their opinions, the University Administra- tion’s gestures at solving the problem of mi- nority students were not serious attempts to “lick” the problem but rather attempts at tokenism. They found themselves unable to partic- pate as individuals in campus activities and organizations either because they felt they were not wanted or they could not relate to the goals of such organizations. They’re angered that the University has turned a deaf ear to their calls for help, to their pleas for change and to their outrage at the injustices and prejudicial treatments. They hold the faculty suspect. When they get a bad grade they can’t be sure whether it is their performance or their color that determined it. They are beginning to think that attend- ing a predominantly white university, espe- cially one that is so slow to change, is not such a good idea since the minority student can lose his identity. The climate is perfect for co-optation. No one knows for sure when the first black student was admitted to UK. Every- one seems to agree, however, that black stu- dents were attending classes here long be- fore 1966, the year most state-supported colleges made a decided effort to recruit more blacks into the institutions across the country. Seven years later, black enrollment at UK is a mere 1.4 percent. This gives UK the in- enviable distinction of being the only state university across the state with such a small percentage of black students. The absence of black faces is quite no- ticeable in sports, in campus organizations, social events and especially in the class- room where in a class of 20 to 30 there is likely to be no black students; and in the larger classes there is likely to be only one or two. The question is Why? Why has black en- rollment increased at all other state colleges but not at UK? Why are black athletes so hard to find at UK while they abound at other colleges? Why did the black UK stu- dents cheer for the University of Alabama playing Kentucky? Many ardent UK fans found this unforgivable. But WHY? 205 The reasons are many. Some of them are simple, some of them complex. Blacks accuse the University’s publica- tions of racism and they have a general lack of trust and confidence in the administra- tion, in the faculty and in the great majority of students. They are basically outsiders who do not feel a part of the University although they attend classes here and are registered full- time students. They feel no pleasure when UK wins the Southeastern Conference title (especially when it is at the expense of a nearly all- black team like Alabama). The problem here is one of identity. “How could we not cheer Alabama along,” Kenneth Avery of Alpha Phi Alpha asked, “when we know that the only reason UK wants to beat them is so they can brag that an all-white team can beat an all-black team?” Avery went on to say, “When Tom Payne was here we cheered a lot for UK, but ac- tually it was not UK we were cheering for but Tom Payne.” He was black and some- one they could identify with; he was some- one they could really cheer for. At least one student had another reason for cheering for Alabama. Reginald Guy said his semmingly inexcusable behavior was merely another effort to shake the ad- ministration out of their state of indiffer- ence so they would once more stand up and take notice. Black athletes have purposely stayed away from UK for a variety of reasons. The main one is that the handful who do come are soon disillusioned and disenchanted with the institution in general, and specifi- cally with the people with whom they have close contact. Their outlook of the University becomes as morbid as that of any other black stu- dent. One former member of the football 206 team tells it this way: “Back when Charlie Bradshaw was coach we got into a lot of trouble with the guys on our own team. We had a lot of fights in the dorm. One minute you were playing with some guy and next minute he was calling you “nigger.” He said he thought blacks were severly handicapped on the field and that is prob- ably the main reason they were staying away from UK. He said blacks were not al- lowed to do certain things like running touchdowns. “He is not allowed any glory of his own.” He went on to describe the re- cruiting process as one big brainwash. “You are wined and dined in fraternity houses and the like” but once the athlete gets to UK the grand treatment is forgotten, “I’ve never been in a fraternity house since,” he said. “They act as if they own you. They pry into your past and into your private life. If you have a white girlfriend they pressure you into giving her up. They make you feel like they brought you out of the ghetto to this great white institution and you ought to be grateful.” Although the black athlete does meet many obstacles, some insurmountable, he is not half as isolated as ordinary black stu- dents. They are isolated from the main- stream of campus life and they are either excluded or they exclude themselves from campus activities and organizations for several reasons. White students and administrators insist that no one is deliberately trying to isolate or exclude blacks and that they are wel- comed to join any activity and organization they choose. Black students maintain that although no one dare say “You can’t join,” the organizations are structured in such a way to serve the needs of whites; thus, the black student has nothing to gain by joining. 207 Austin Moss a member of Kappa Alpha Psi, said “to become integrated into the University society the black has to be more white than black because whites do not see the need to meet blacks half way and there is some doubt as to whether most of the whites make an honest effort to try to un- derstand what it means to be a black minority.” The white consensus seems to be “If you want to be part of the group YOU have to be like us” and black students are asking, “Why do WE have to be the ones to give? We have been changing. We have had to make all the adjustments. When will whites do their share?” In the meantime the desire for integration has slowly disappeared and the separate but equal doctrine is coming to the fore- front once more. Blacks do not mind being a separate group as long as they get a fair shake. “All we are asking for is to co-exist alongside everybody else,” explains Moss, “but as things are now the atmosphere is still pitifully inadequate, indifferent and even oppressive toward minorities.” While white students are allowed to re- main individuals, the black students are forced to become a group in order to survive. Whites cite cultural differences as one of the main reasons for non-interaction be- tween the two groups. Blacks are not in agreement with this theory, however, and point to the foreign student—the African, the Indian or the Pakistani. They all enjoy equal status with whites on this campus. They have their social needs catered to. The black American is the only outsider and this does not stem from any cultural differences but rather from something equally deep-seated. The myths and prej- udices handed down from generation to generation is seen as the main cause. Whatever the cause, black students are not sitting around wailing to be “accepted”. Student groups have come to the forefront to help solve their own problems. The Black Student Union was formed in 1966 by a group of black students who felt they needed an organization of their own to fulfill their basic social needs. It soon became more than a social club, however, and pretty soon they began pick- eting basketball games, making demands for a black studies program and a black studies section in the library. It was then that the administration gave BSU a limited amount of funds to perform certain recruit- ing and orientation and to sponsor an an- nual black culture festival, tasks black stu- dents describe as “things the Administration should have done them- selves but were either too hostile or too indifferent.” When the Office ot Minority Affairs was established these funds were withdrawn from BSU and rechanneled into that office. The Black Student Union has since become a dormant organization due to lack of funds. In the meantime, Kappa Alpha Psi and Alpha Phi Alpha, two national, pre- dominantly-black fraternities, have estab- lished chapters at UK. Here the member- ship is all black but the officers say whites are welcomed to join. While they will not deliberately exclude whites, they maintain that the success of the organization does not depend on white participation. Kappa Alpha Psi feels that whites have an inherent inability to relate to blacks and so do white organizations. They feel the Administration does not realize the magni- tude of the problems blacks are faced with and, hence, they are unable to deal with them. Kappa feels the administration must real- piXk sc homy p v uw DHWC y_y.r5 WMORIRL StTWlc.? ?U [fiiviRD- ivrmuv, mvv. 6 r UNIVERSITY OF KENTUCKY ize that they have a responsibility to im- prove relations and ease dissatisfaction among all students. Shifting the burden to one understaffed, underfunded office is not good enough. For the past two years Kappa has spon- sored “Kappa Week” which is an attempt by the fraternity to give both black and white at least one week of the year in which they can meet and discuss black cul- ture. This has been successful, although the students contend that environment at UK today makes cross-cultural exchange very difficult. Frank Paige, president of the BSU said, “The atmosphere is such that black organi- zations feel it’s up to them to act as middle- men between blacks and whites since the administration won’t do it.” Alpha Phi Alpha states that its aim is to build a foundation for black students of to- morrow. Just how effective these organiza- tions are in solving the problem is really not known. “I have no illusions about changes for the better,” said Paige. “The black student must ask himself how he can utilize his educa- tion to overcome the kinds of oppression he is faced with here. Reform, if it happens at all, will come very slowly.” In the meantime, there is no evidence that anything by way of change or reform has taken place over the past year. Blacks continue to distrust whites and question their motives. They feel whites are only in- terested in them in so far as it serves their interests. Whites on the other hand, admit to being confused about how to approach blacks. One black student sums it up this way: “When my white friends invite me to their parties they tell me to bring my black friends but when I invite my black friends they won’t go and when they have parties they tell me not to bring my white friends.” Parties are places where we let it all hang out. We discuss things that the white per- son may misunderstand and misconstrue. He might think we are being hostile toward him and we can’t afford any more misun- derstandings.” However, white students maintain that attitudes such as this give the impression that black students are not really serious about closer cooperation, friendship, and better understanding. What part does the Administration play in all this? Are they doing anything that will help solve these problems? “Yes”, says the Administration. As proof they point to the newly established Office of Minority Affairs. “No”, say the students. As proof they also point to the Office of Minority Affairs. Ken Avery sees this office as another “mere token” on the part of the Administra- tion. “If the University is really serious about solving minority problems why are they content to give the task, this mon- strous task, to a small understaffed office that is operating on a very limited budget?” he asks. “They will do only as much as is necessary to get by.” Whatever is being done now is seen by the black student as being too little. No tan- gible improvement can be shown and until something concrete can be shown, black students will continue to cry “tokenism”; until attitudes and actions can be seen to change they will continue to shout “dis- crimination”; and until relations between blacks and whites have made considerable improvements UK will remain the state uni- versity with the minority of minorities. If that isn’t bad enough, one can expect to see hostility toward the Administration in- creased and a completely isolated and seg- regated crop of black students may stand out from year to year as the unmeltable in the great melting pot. The question can no longer be, “Who is to blame?” but rather, “What can we do to make things better?” It is quite obvious that both sides will have to give. 211 nasal Graduation 215 PifittijjltJiii Sixteen years later 219 25 ? Alpha Chi Omega 224 Delta Delta Delta Gamma Phi Beta 228 Kappa Alpha Theta Kappa Delta 010002535353534823235323232323534853 Pi Beta Phi 233 Alpha Gamma Rho Delta Tau Delta Kappa Alpha -a Ill 1 CTiJL |i! i ijipp is� f 1 i if tes feiS. Sigma Nu tjmwffl i liiiKri t iuitiiiiiiiiiiiihtiifli injiiniiuiiiiiiiiiuiiiiiiiiiiiil iii iiiiitiiuinmiiiimnm iiiinnrummmHHttiim iMiiiiiiiHiiuiiiuiiiiiriiitiiij f iihviMiiiumuuniiitRhtt i; i .’iw iiinn imiiiimy i HWihimiiitmp.miiniif I: iiii’iiiiiinuiuliiiiiiii nin nmiiimmmmiiiitff nmnuniimimimn iiiiiniim nmiiiuaininiii iw.miuuiiHimmui niMinmiiiiliHiiiniiiinj , t'lhitnimmiiiinimi liiiiiiiiuiwmiiiiiiiii fisi ■ � :‘s ■-r :'V V. a. i! iMiri ‘ £t 1 T riangle «iimiHiluiiriuqum Blanding Tower Council Lambda Kappa Sigma Eta Kappa Nu Pi Tau Sigma Tau Beta Pi Phi Beta Lambda w Seniors 1973 Kenneth Abner Daniel Adamchik Walter Adams Clarence Adkins Roger Adkins James Akin Maria Akintola Lee Allen Susan Allen Judith A. Alvis T Michael Allin Carey Anderson Debbie Anderson 256 Jean Amelang Gary Anderson James Andrew Hugo Aparicio Kenneth Avery Nina Baker Shirley Barker Bruce Barr Stephen Bates Charles Bateman Susan Barrett Carl Beavin Nadine Beatty Dottie Baumann James Beard lann u Cynthia Bishop Gayle Black Claud Blackburn 258 Larry Blair Janet Blandford Barbara Beck John Benock Beverly Benton Eula Berry Bruce Bevins Joy Beyer Larry Blair Mary Belt Claude Berry Michael Board James Boemer Thomas Bowden David Boyd Lynn Brackman Corine Bordner Jeanne Brewer Margaret Breslin Sherry Brandsema Billie Broaddus Michael Brinkmann Lindsey Briggs Thomas Brooks Stephen Brossart Thomas Brown Dwayne Browning Vicki Brooks Carl Brown Phyl Brownlee Michael Bruestle Barbara Buckley Michael Buckley B. Burchfield 260 Janet Buerger Mary Jane Busroe Jerry Butler Karen Byron Donna Campbell Rose Caldwell Shannon Carlos Cabrera Sarah Carnes Robert Campbell Terry Carlisle Jane Carroll David Carroll Jackie Carpenter Arvel Carroll Bill Caylor Ylva Cederlof Daniel Clark Gayle Clements Christopher Carvell Deborah Clarke David Cleaver 262 Mary Clift Marvin Clem Donna Cattanach D. Cherry Mary Clemons Dennis Chapman Carolyn Cropper Charles Cowan Rick Covington Margaret Covington A. Crump Sharon Crowder G. Cropper Dana Beth Davis Marshall Daniels Michael Czirr Ellen Currey Stephen Dawkins Floyd Davis Donny Davis Nancy Dewey Margaret del Cid Susan DeBrecht Helen Digenis Tom Dicrof Gene Dickerson Richard Deye Kenneth Donahue Pamela Dobbs Randall Dowell Marilyn Douglas Stephen Doss Barry Donaldson Nancy Downes Irene Dozback David Drake Patricia Duckworth Jennifer Durham Mary Dunsmore Diane Dutton Mary Dwyer Steven Eckman S. Edeln Deanne Edwards Ehokloikarw 266 Carl Edwards Karen Emberton Glenn Embree Steve Enzweiller Steve Evans Joe Evans Daymon Evans Gregory Erena Sammuel Fante Richard Fanelli Forrest Ewen Ronald Ferguson James Fenwick James Fee Perry Farmer Steven Franzen Francine Freeman Sandra Freeman Eugenia Froedge Fritschner Travis Fritsch Gregory Frey Hope Gaines Gary Fryman Jerry Furrow Hope Gehron Nancy Garrison Christine Garriques Elizabeth Gardner James Gerstle Rebecca Giampocaro Greta Gibson Patricia Gilkeson Suzanne Glazebrook Thomas Goben Ariel Gobert Larry Godhelff Raymond Goeing Shelly Goldflies Paul Goldsworthy Carol Goodykoontz 270 M. Goodman Donald Goodpaster Mark Grund Brenda Grisham William Griggs Dixie Haggard Carl Gustafson S. Gumm Charles Gumm Barbara Graham Terry Gray David Green Gail Green Everett Green Michael Greene Toma Griffin Janice Haley Alice Hall Rose Hall Douglas Hamilton Gary Hardy Stewart Hardy Karen Harman Michael Harney Phillip Hamm Richard Harris Michael Hammons Dennis Hancock Elizabeth Harris Joan Harris Barbara Hart Susan Harris Terri Hart Lindle Hatton Greg Hartmann Jeff Hartfield Thomas Henderson Sandra Henderson Victoria Helton Marsha Herndon Betty Herbert Ronald Helson Judith Henley Timothy Heustis Jennifer Hewlett Deborah Hilbert John Hickman Kenneth Hill Michael Hockensmith Dennis Hoerter Steven Holbrook Beatrice Hood Cynthia Hood John Hopkins Barry House Jane Howerton 274 Howell Hopson Stephen Huddleston Beverly Hudson Larry Hughett Mary Beth Humpert Ruth Hunt Stephen Hunt Harrell Hurst William Hussian Sam Hutchinson C. Irvin Charles Jaggers Robert Jackson Madelyn Jackson Monty Izen David James Wanda Jaquith N. Jargent Jean Jarrell Kathy Jasper Omar Johnson Peggy Johnson Hm 276 L. Johnson Mark Johnson Lloyd Jones G. Jones Sam Johnson Pamela Johnston - Richard Jones Sarah Jones Virginia Jones Sandra Kalotkin Nancy Judkins John Kalmey Darrell Keith Ronald Karpinsky Suzanne Kathman Marty Kelly James Kendig David Kennamer Earl Kennedy Timothy Kichline Daniel Kimbler David King Jerry King Michael King Harry Kirkpatrick Barbara Kiser Stanley Klausing Gregory Klein 278 Myles Kitchen Eddie Klingenfus Kent Knabel Sue Kniffen Ilya Kohen John Koelsch Robert Kohler Gary Knutson James Krasky Mark Korras George Kopser Tania Lampe Daniel Lahner Steven Kuhl John Kurzel Harold Leggett Elizabeth Leggett Carol Lincoln Stephen Lannert Donna Leathers William Levee Dwight Lawrence Cynthia Little Bruce Livingston Brad Loar James Logan T. Dade Luckett Amy Long Patrick Lonneman William Magruder K. Malone Malcolm Lunderman Anthony Marshall Debra Marshall Anthony Marasco Terry Manley Michael Mason Brasher Mason Vicki Martin Willie McCann Walter McBrayer Harold Rodney Massie Cecilee McBain :Qq sa Francis McCracken Marsha McCartney Terrence McCauley Robert McCray i Nancy McDaniel Fonda McClellan Vicki McCool 282 Joseph McHugh Linda McKenna Anne McKinney Marsha McMillin Cathe McNally Sandra McLaughlin Laura Meeker Clement Meaux Randall Meadows Pamela McQueary Rod Messer Theodore Martens Patricia Mertens }. Miller Elizabeth Michler Bill Michael Thomas Mester Jerry Miller Mike Millikan Greg Milliken Kathi Millimet Christina Mills James Mingo Terri Misback Damon Mitchell Tim Mitchell Rose Mitts Glennora Montgomery Marilyn Montgomery Ann Moore Paul Monsour Marcus Moore Marcella Moore Kathryn Moreland Tom Moss David Mosmeier Linda Morgan James Napier Charles Mulhall Stanley Muehlenkamp Anita Ochs Robert Nims Tasos Nicolakis Mike Niemeier Joseph Page Mary Pantle D. Parsons Stuart Pass John Pate Phillip Patton Juanita Pay 286 David Perry Gary Pennington William J Petot Leslie Radford Marsha Phillips William J. Phillips George Phipps Cynthia Pinkerton Addison Poe P. Pope David Potter Robert Potts Frederick Povey Benjamin Prewitt Rodney Ramos Michael Ramage Robert Ramey Irwina Rece Dorothea Reed Renee Reed Debra Rankin ) Johnny H. Rasnick Gary Rawlings Marcia Rawlins Thomas D. Reed Cathy Reeves Charles Reeves Charles Reeves W. Reynolds 288 Michael Reilly Gorge Restrepo mmmM Stoven Rice Kenneth Richards Lyndon Richardson, Jr. Peggy Richardson L. Riddell Shelia Ritter John Ritchie ngp HIM Stephen Rodgers Peggy Robinson Francis Roberts Eva Roach EHgg Peggy Roller David Roos Donald R. Rose Leslie Rosenbaum Patrick Ross Richard Rothfuss Phillip Royalty Jacquelin Runk Ronald St. Clair Kenneth Sales John Ryan, Jr. Beth Salyers John Sandrick Michael Sanson 290 Virginia Shepherd Phyllis Saunders Janet Schmidt Thomas Schoemaker Sally Shearer Tina Shepherd Jeffrey Seay Jan Segnitz David Selzer Lewis Seward ■ � . i ■ i i Z7 ) I - Michael Schulkens Anne Scott Jane Scott Robert Sears Fred Smith L. Smith M. Smith BUS Steven Slahta 292 Nathan }. Solzman Stephen Souder Eugene Sisk Kathryn Sisk Harold Snook Ann Simmons Buford Simmons Maureen Simon Donald Spalding Hugh Sparks Leslie Sparks Pamela Sparrow Stephen Spencer rrow Dan Spurlock Vince Spoelker joe Starnes Sue Stapleton Dennis Stanley Gerald Stallard Vickie Statom John Steinlage Franklin Stivers Robert Stout t Nancy Streif Janet Stivers Mark Strobel Gary Swaim i Sandra Suhren Satyra Summerour Judith Swift 294 Dorothy Tabler Carla Tackett Hsiung Tang Margaret Tanner Cynthia Tatman Steve Tattershall Thomas Taylor James Ternes William Terry m Hobie Thomas Becky Thomas ■■i David Thomas William Thompson Gregory Thompson B. Thompson Joseph Thomas Kay Tanner James Traxel Gail Tucker Paul Tucker Allene Tuel Phoebe Tussey David Tomlin Sharon Toussaint 296 Mike Tweddell Richard Thornton Danny Trammell Leslie Tuney Cherie Todd 1 James Tipton Anthony Tobbe hlMMfSflffniBSii Marilyn Underwood Brian Vander Boegh Gay Vandiver Ronald Vandiver Bruce Van Kirk John Van Meter Marvin Wachs Thomas Waldie Vranich Bill Wallace Susan Wall Thomas Walker Marvin Walker Kenneth Weaver Kathleen Welch Roger Wellman Sayra Wells 298 Glenn Westerman Donna Westwood Ronald Wendt Harriet Wheeler Charles White Karen White Ruby Wigginton Belinda Wilson Vicki Williams Emily Williams Ronald Wilson Paul Winkler Kenneth Wilson Elizabeth Woods Stephen Wood Dale Withers Sally Winslow Mary Robert Yowler Stan L. Force Princess Lawes Steve Yoder Herb Miller John Young Black Joe Wright 300 Wm. Chelcy Templeton, III Zimmer ■r M. A. Whitworth Judith K. Templeton Photo Credits Bob Brewer Mary Jane Busroe Dave Cronen Gail Green C. Thomas Hardin David James Bud Kamenish Gail Lynn Ford Reid David Robertson Vince Spoelker Cindy Stucky Brad Swope Ken Weaver Gordon Wilson Kenny Wilson Greg Yopp 21, 147, 149, 154, 155 (bottom), 156 161 (lower) 36, 56 (top), 59 (top), 60 (bottom), 61 (top), 63-64 (center), 66 (right, bottom), 72 (bottom), 114 (bottom right), 140, 171, 190, 191 (top), 194, 212, 225, 228, 229, 233, 237, 243, 244, 246- 248, 254 16, 18, 19, 60 (upper left), 93 (top), 136, 137, 142 (bottom), 151 (top), 155 (top), 200 (Copyright, 1973, The Courier-Journal and Times), 64-65 79-81, 89 (bottom), 95 (top), 224, 231, 242 (Copyright, 1972, The Courier-Journal and Times), 46 112, 113 (top), 116 (bottom), 119 (bottom), 134 158, 222, 223 8-12, 22, 23, 28-33, 44 (bottom), 54 (left), 57 (bottom left), 59 (bottom), 113 (bottom), 116 (top), 117 (bottom left), 120, 123, 124, 132, 142 (top), 143, 145, 151 (bottom), 170, 184, 185, 187 (bottom), 192 (bottom), 195, 214, 216-218, 250 26 (left), 117 (upper right), 118 (bottom) 220, 221 68 (top), 94, 118 (top), 121, 122, 189, 197-199 2-7, 14, 15, 17, 20, 24, 25, 26 (right), 27, 34, 35, 37-43, 44 (top), 45, 47-53, 54 (right), 55, 56, (left bottom), 57 (top right), 58 (left), 61 (bottom), 62-63 (except center), 66 (top left), 67, 68 (bottom), 69-71, 72 (top), 73-78, 82, 83, 84 (left, bottom), 85-88, 89 (top), 90-92, 93 (bottom), 95 (bottom), 96-104, 114-115 (except 114 bottom right), 117 (bottom right), 125- 131, 133, 135, 138, 139, 141, 144, 148, 150, 152, 153, 157, 159, 160, 161 (top), 162-165, 167-169, 174-183, 184 (top), 186, 187 (top), 188, 191 (bottom), 192 (top), 193, 201, 213, 215, 219, 227, 235, 238, 241, (Copyright, 1973, The Courier- Journal and Times, 36, 37), (Copyright, 1972, The Courier-Journal and Times, 173) 105-109, 226, 230, 232, 234 84 (top right) 196 Thanks STAFF Lew Donohew, for going to bat and sticking by me through this whole ordeal. Princess Lowes, for such a thorough reporting job. Pat Schneider, for handling such a major task under a tight deadline. Debbie Diachenko, Gail Lynn, and Mike Patterson For art talents tapped. John Van Meter (assistant friend) for 11th, 12th, and 13th hour efforts. Janice Weaver, Teresa Hafling, and Linda Furmall for giving so much time unselfishly down the stretch. Mike Sullivan, for invaluable aid in helping to make the sports copy a reality, under THE deadline of his life; but, more importantly, for a lot of grins. My C-J PODS for giving 100% in helping me WHOOSH through the year. Sig Ep House, for housing the summer operations. Cindy Stucky, for unselfish laboratory brilliance which made the book a reality. My Parents, for putting up with all of this. Mr. ]. A. McCauley, for twenty-five years of complete dedication to UK’s journalism students. I am most grateful for your past four years as my teacher and adviser; but more importantly, my friend. Ken Weaver, Editor Dave Robertson, Managing Editor Ron Vandiver, Business Editor Dave Cronen, Photo Editor Dan Bullock Sam Burchett Mary Jane Busroe Kathy Grant Gail Green Johanna Green Toma Griffin Teresa Hafling Suzanne Hill Carol Hummel David James Princess Lawes Sam Mansfield Cheryl Perry Ellen Roehrig Ann Scott Vince Spoelker Brad Swope Monica Toner John Van Meter Janice Weaver Gordon Wilson Kenny Wilson