University of Idaho - Gem of the Mountains Yearbook (Moscow, ID)

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The Song and Stunt Fest ay COLLEGE year is complete without it—no college professor could know how he is known—no student could otherwise express his honest opinions of his instructors. It is first and last a screaming entertainment and always the pulse of a student’s feeling toward the men and women higher up. It was instituted in the spring of 1915, after Dr. M. A. Brannon took the chair as President of the University. It is the biggest vaudeville the fair city of Moscow has had the privilege of witnessing every year since. In the spring of 1918 it was decided to hold the Fest on the night of the State Interscholastic Track Meet and in this way give the High School track men of the state the opportunity of enjoying the University’s most hilarious event. It was on that memorable night that Slim Swanstrom starred in “Cleopatra” and made a thousand people laugh until they cried. That one event, however, was not the only artistic attainment made by the various stunt committees up through the years that the Fest has been held —they are many and varied and always there is keen rivalry between the classes for the prizes offered for the best songs and stunts. There is Grand Opera and slap-stick comedy, classic music and jazz, all of it original, and in some way bearing upon campus activities and particularly upon the fac- ulty. Strange to say it brings the students and faculty nearer together. The Song and Stunt Fest has called forth many of Idaho's most beautiful songs and is a direct answer to the prayer so aptly worded by Bobby Burns: “O, wad some power the giftie gie us To see oursel’s as others see us.” Page Fifteen

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her guests, the townspeople and students. Thus the afternoon passes. As six o'clock approaches an outdoor dinner is served on the lawn and every- one eats until the last sign of anything edible has vanished. The festivities continue. Everyone must report at the gymnasium for the stimulating in- fluence of a jazz orchestra, a well-waxed floor, and an armful of dancing partner. Even this must end and midnight sees the merry-makers home- ward-wending and another Campus Day passing into history. The Ivy Planting enc graduating class strives in some way to leave a monument not so much as a memorial to themselves, but as something to make the campus more beautiful, and every class since the early years of the Uni- versitys’ career has planted trees and ivy—monuments that go on growing more beautiful and each year making Alma Mater more worthy of holding first place in the hearts of her children. Thus, as the college year draws to a close, another golden link is welded in the chain that binds us as a great family to our Alma Mater. Page Fourteen

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The Senior Sneak Cyt bright spring morning the Seniors became very conspicuous by their absence. No one had had any warning as to their mysterious departure. “They can't have graduated,” said a Frosh, “because they haven't re- ceived their diplomas.” That was very true; they hadn't received their diplomas because they hadn’t paid their class-bill. It was posted on the bulletin board and every- one knew it. Those Seniors had sneaked. Where, what time, and how, no one knew, but it must have been in the early morning watch, for not even the most nocturnally inclined Kappa Sig had any recollection of seeing the Seniors. Later developments proved, however, that a great train of eight-wheeled trucks left town between the fourteenth and fifteenth drink of moonshine, but they might have been headed for Paradise Creek or the front line trenches at Chateau Thierry for all that could be learned of “Which way?” So it was decided to leave the Seniors to sneak where they pleased and do nothing more to hinder them than pray for a heavy rain. It wasn’t for anyone but the Seniors to know where they were sneaking any more than it was right for anyone but a Senior to sit on the Senior Bench. That a Junior, to say nothing of the Sophomores and Frosh, should have the impertinence to even think of look- ing for the picnicers was an unmentionable breach of tradition. Traditions are hard things to break. as Napoleon was heard to remark as he footed it over the Alps. Page Sixteen