University of Nebraska Omaha - Tomahawk / Gateway Yearbook (Omaha, NE)

Page 9 text:

E VERYONE NEEDS to seek sanctu- ary from the outrageous misfor- tunes of life. For the most sensi- tive loneliness heals wounds faster. Those who need reassurance seek, and cry with others of their own find kind. For the most talked about and con- troversial people on the UNO campus, the bootstrappers, the MBSC ballroom af- fords solace. Because of continued occupancy by bootstrappers, the ballroom has been referred to by the name, Napalm Hall. Appropriately Napalm Hall was dedicated to Lt. Jerry L. Larson, an Omaha U graduate who was killed in a military accident. If the boots read the dedication plaque before entering the hall or the rather terse treatment by non-boot students sobers them, the boots turn the Hall into a quie t reading room. The silence is comparable to any area in the library. The somewhat uniform dress of Na- palm Hallers brands them as boots. There is a slight diversification in clothing which helps the observer to at least size-up these special people. The neatly dressed, closer to middle- aged boot is the l-am-an-American type. He is typically attired from neck, hands, to nose in traditional red, white, and blue, respectively. The neatly dressed fellow with beard and briefcase is the It's-the-only-place-l- can-get-away-with-a-beard type. Casual conversation with him will reveal his efforts to communicate with the younger students. His usual opening statement is: I'm getting out of the service as soon as my hitch is out. A casual nod by the listener tries to conceal the Oh! Bro- ther! that is on his mind. Conversation among Hallers is de- cisively more academic in nature. College time is full time to the boots. Other talk produces technical words such as Moose and Hooch! Veterans day makes the Hall look like a briefing room. Green, blue, gold and silver 300 strong gives the impression that something is happening on campus and the Guard was called up to stop it. A BEVY OF BOOTS IN NAPALM HALL 'Ai If

Page 8 text:

ROOM MEETING PLACE FOR THE HIGH ACHIEVER THE SLEEPY halls of Milo Bail Student Center awaken each morning with the clanks and clunks of kitchen help setting up the line for another day. The echo of a distant janitor whistling as he finishes off the last of the floors breaks the eerie silence. Another sound is familiar early in the morning. It's the mad race to claim a table for some sorority or fraternity. A large rural type mail box thuds on its usual table top. There's a three foot high sign with a Greek brand on it telling all who pass by: Alpha Beta Gamma Delta territory, stranger. No claim jumping. The bulletin board is loaded with little messages telling of teas, beer busts, flag football games and various social func- tions. Exquisitely tailored mannequins scitter about impressing everyone with their perfection of dress. Contrasting the well dressed set are frat rats simply clothed in a tee-shirt labeled with their pledged letter. In their own world are the Jersey jocks, east coast athletes who try their hand at sports in the less competitive midwest, juxtaposed to the jocks are a huddled mass of Black students near the juke box privately socializing with them- selves. A continuous blast of the Top Forty begins with the rapid assembly of regulars who jam themselves tightly around the well-guarded tables. All this occurs daily in the Room. Since the loss of its beloved name, some refer to it only as the Room. Others look to either side and carefully scan the area to see if there are any American Indians to offend, then boldly call it the Ouampi Room. Young pledges are carefully scruti- nized during the'day. Occasionally a sister may err and walk to the Pit with a new found friend. Her big sister is then obli- gated to inform her of her duties as a carrier of the letters. Smiles are the rule of the day. Crisp, clean, friendly grins are for everybody, but, especially for the brothers and sisters of the clans. There is security in being with your own kind. Chili consumption is at an all time high in the Room. Sounds of crunching crackers with confident conversation about the next sociology test. Self assuredness is the main staple in the life of the Room dweller. Its inhabitants thrive on being able to flaunt ones ability to have the situation under ones thumb at all times. Student senators abound from this room. Political activity is practiced fer- vently. Getting it right in student govern- ment insures the Roomy's finesse in real world situations. There should be no doubts about these people. They are the ones who will take the helm some day and chart a new course for mankind. These people have their eyes on the moon while their feet are firmly planted in the sturdy ground of tradition. The future holds for them the path- ways of their fathers and mothers. Noth- ing will get in their way to gain success. The start at UNO begins in the Room; a true guideline for the high achiever of tomorrow. •••

Page 10 text:

CAFETERIA FILLS THE VOID FOR THE OUT ■BUT- 'IN' GROUP THROUGH the process of elimin- ation many students find them- selves out of place, out of step, with their contemporaries and seek shelter with the other odd- men-out on campus who are too sophisti- cated, or too level-headed, or too much out of line with the rigid formal types to socialize in the regular meeting places in the Milo Bail Student Center. The Cafeteria is full of individuals who find others who are also individuals and the familiar camping game goes on in that room just like the rest. The eating place is a meeting place. Among the regulars are graduate students, drama majors, a large contingent of stu- dent government people and foreign stu- dents who find people who will honestly take the time to talk with them. Near the partition between the Na- palm Hall and the Cafeteria are some Boots who sit quietly and amaze pretty young things with the stories of their world travels. Often an earnest studier will find his $17 text book under a pile of the kitchen's famous bean soup. Mixed with the mess of hungry eds and coeds are people with food far from their minds. But, due to the crowding around lunch time, they may find food in their laps. Near the window there are several graduate teaching assistants who try their best to look beaten by their overloaded work schedules. If you look close enough you can see the pleasure in their eyes as awkward undergraduates pass by. A wily gleam strikes them as they remember the time they too tripped and dumped edibles on readables. Perhaps there are more of the astute species of the campus types in the Cafe- teria. When the kitchen line closes down and the famished are fed, the crowd begins to clear and those remaining are cracking books and bending backs. The pity of all this is found on the unkind walls. Missing are the honors one reaps from hard studying. On the wall a student will find only this missive: Please Bus Your Own Trays. •