University of Minnesota - Gopher Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

Page 33 text:

. J«r; ' ■ § llpliftina tlie JJublii ITHOUT a loophole of doubt, the play ' s the thing. The Dramatic Club fully realizes its golden opportunity, nay, its solemn duty to the public, and presents lor your edification some worthy drama of an educational type. Not one of the participants but tries out for his role with a high minded zeal for this end; not one of the chosen few who make up the cast but faithfully attends rehearsals with a sense of benevolent virtue. The players keep constantly before them that ideal, the reason for being such an organ- ization as the Dramatic Club: the uplift of the public. Long and arduous is the work of selection of a vehicle; long and arduous the selection of dramatic talent for the various roles; and thereafter, longer and more arduous is the rehearsing. Let no young gentleman not well endowed with car fare and a strong right arm think to take part in a production such as this. All the ladies in the cast must be seen home. All the ladies in the cast live on Fifty-second Street North East, or Minnehaha Avenue, or the farther side of Lake Harriet. When the play has reached the point where it can be played with deep and proper feeling by its interpreters, it is put on, and you come to see it. If your particular pal plays the leading juvenile, your buncti squanders its substance and takes a box. If you are of a thrifty disposi- tion, you invite your lady and sit with the rest of the fellows and their ladies in the parquet. If someone else had asked her before you got a chance, you sit in the gallery and hobnob with the poverty-stricken whose ladies are in the play. The curtain rings up promptly and discloses that tall girl who wears a red suit around college, arrayed in servant ' s costume, dusting a piano stool. Anon appears the man who sat next you in German last semester — you never knew he could act. He can ' t. The leading lady comes on and you applaud madly. Her family, in the third row, sit with strained expressions, as though they had each a toothache. The play plays on till suddenly there is an awful silence on the stage; the players look at one another with frightened glances, the leading man ' s expression is one of agony; there is a sepulchral voice muttering from the wing; the play goes on; you never know what happened. Between acts you look at the rest of the audience, and crane your neck to see who that girl with red hair came with, and who the man is that brought Nellie King. The couple in front of you act dis- gracefully and giggle at all the pathetic parts. The families of the per- formers read their programs over and over, nervously, and clap very little. The waits between acts are endless, but at last the curtain rings down on the fourth act, and then up again, and there they all are, smil- ing and clutching their flowers, and the curtain comes down again, and it is over. You go home, and read the criticism in the paper the next day, and shake all the performers by the hand and shout at them in the postoffice how well they did; and they clench their teeth and thank you, and if they are ladies you glance at the flowers they are wearing and they blush; and next week it ' s forgotten. But it all happens again next year; for the business of uplifting the public cannot be allowed to rest, and the play ' s the thing.

Page 32 text:

iT buzz and buzz and buzz. I he victims — erslwhile entertained, now hustle from the Registrar ' s window to Enrollment Committee, from weary waiting line to weary waitmg Ime. bewildered, uncomprehending, un- happy — the victims glance helplessly at one another and watch, palely, while with businesslike zeal their conductors jot down dates in expens- ive little books. And as the hot, jostling, noisy, confused day draws to a close, they are led off one by one. and the hearts of all are wildly beating. This is called: DIS- CRIMINATION. ' Me.nntime, their brothers are not idle. Many young gentlemen stand in line also, and automobiles wait outside the door. Two young men hover about a group of other young , T men, and at Ust one says: How v ' K.-. - do, Jones? I ' d like to meet your friend. And with a furtive, tri- umphant grin the other replies: Ah yes, Jackson: all right Bill, want you to meet Mr. Jackson — Bill Hobbcs, one of our fellows from I ' ale. A MISCALCULATION. Another young man is a center of interest. He is entertained by inter- ested friends at luncheon, with an- other circle of same he walks the , grounds of the scat of learning, dur- ' mg the afternoon, and in the evening he goes to dinner with the third group. He does not get home till morning. This is EDUCATION. But when the sun rises on the new day — ah! then comes REVELATION ! For the battle is not to the strong, nor the race to the swift. ,„- i i;. 5i ' v- A Miscalculation '

Page 34 text:

' CHHE RUSH (i,l)c CCa cnlsl)ai (With apologies to Messrs. Irwin and Homer.) Fine was the morn. Doc. Cook low ' r ' d o ' er the crowd: Looked e ' en like ' Polio ' cepl he had a sweat — er on, and wore a whistle in his mouth. He spoke. The vasty host of sludes and others Did tremble at the shout of his huge voice: Here. Freshmen! Soph ' mores. here! Extend the ring And let ' em in! E ' en said, the circle ope ' d. And thru the lines of sealed Sen ' s and Jun ' s, Came ' harassed Freshmen, strangely-trousered Sophs, And look fierce place on ' posite sides ' the ring. Now. whilst they gazed with bloodful glare each other o ' er. The Doctor took a defunct curtain-pole And called to each array for volunteers. They ' vanced, three on a side, and placed a hand Apiece, tight-grappled on the pole. Curses on thee! Loud hissed Bill Boquist to the Freshman foe (For Bill was clothed in courage, B. V. D. ' s, And pants): ' i ' e ' ll soon repent this Fight with Sophs: I swear it by the sword of Butts! Aw, gwan! retorts the foe, we ' ll make mincemeat Of thee and all thy crew, and serve thee, baked In pies like mother never made! 1 hey crouched; For e ' en like Triton, Doc. did blow his horn; Then jumped from ' twixt the confligrating hosts. A stamp! A rush! the kick of countless feet That, housed in hoofs of holeproof socks and skin. Did beat the earth in search of but one thing. The cane. They surged, insurged, resurged again. Like flies that seek a sugar plum, to taste Its sweetness. So they struggled for the cane. But like the flies, five layers of themselves Did squirm between the sugar and their lips. So, some did wriggle ' tween the legs of those Before, whilst others o ' er the reeling heads Did climb and dive, iheir scissored legs the sign That they at last had got a hand in on the cane. And whilst they scrambled ' lound the edge there happe ' d A dozen several fights of those poor souls That ' sparing of the cane, fought out their griefs In pairs. 1 hey struggled — The whistle blew. Doc. counted hands. A pause — ■ And then: The sophs have won the day ' s first rush. ' Ah, what a shout arose; and thundered o ' er To Pillsb ' ry, back to I-olwell: — Nay, e ' en the distant Library rocked, and there Did rouse pale Grinds from poring o ' er their books!