University of Louisville - Thoroughbred Yearbook (Louisville, KY)

Text from Pages 1 - 296 of the 1972 volume:

THOROUGHBRED THOROUGHBRED i he A Publication of the University of Louisville TABLE OF CONTENTS Registration ............... Poetrvic:: sac3.06 A Revolution in Education . GEOOVIN wea 55: aeee Poetry... hac ‘ ‘ Greek Games ......... Wasa’ Greekcts won oe ee WWAtGHIOR sone sto matics errs Belknap Theatre........ Fotis POMS se tacarieaet ape.oets sates Starlifig: 1. sutton es 4s « Festivals . Se City of the Seventies . Once There Was a Wall Poetry ..... Grant Hicks John Lennon Study of Art Red Cross Printmaking Homecoming . ; Building and Grounds . Notable Visitors Turkey Trot SNOW wit cb asts Ocaihrs Jackson Mountain Gimme Some Room You See Commuters . Poetry . Intramurals Between Times Poetry Law School . Greek Cleaning : Office of Black Affairs Between Times A Russian Specialist Poetry Kentucky Woman Poetry . Between Times Photography .... Photography Gallery . Poetry . Hank Sedgewick Between Times Business . Poetry Football POGUE ksh a aes Every Man is a Product of His Culture Denny Crum . ate Basketball ..... Soho Senior Pictures ............. Westerman Hettinger Bossmeyer STAFF JOHN HELLMANN is a_ graduate student who spent 1971-72 studying English literature, teaching freshman English, serving as Arts Editor of the Cardinal newspaper, putting this book together, and drinking. He is perhaps most remarked for his hang-up on the Rolling Stones. STEVE CROGHAN, a senior in graphic design, alternates between studying his vocation and making money at it. He also works at illustration and photography, and admits to occasionally reading. CHARLIE WESTERMAN has done free-lance photography for the Courier-Journal and Times and Louisville Magazine, and served this past year as Photography Editor of the Cardinal. He also plays bass guitar and sings for a local rock group and somewhere or another finds time to be a sophomore in psychology. JACK HETTINGER is a Phd candidate working on his dissertation in English literature and was last seen a few months ago sleepily dragging a set of Cliff's Notes toward the graduate carrels in the back of the library. GLENN BOSSMEYER is a first year law student who claims top respect from the rest of the staff. He handles the pay checks, MARILYN HARVIN divides her time among sundry activities, and is a senior in English as well as a former Miss University of Louisville. CREDITS Editor John Hellmann Designer Steve Croghan Director of Photography Charlie Westerman Literary Editor Jack Hettinger Campus Editor Marilyn Harvin Business Manager Glenn Bossmeyer Faculty Advisor Robert J. Doherty, Jr. Administrative Advisor Warren F. Jones Cover Design: Steve Croghan and Charlie Westerman. Photography credit: Charlie Westerman for all except the following. Jebb Harris: 16-19, 24L, 25B, 26T, 27T, 28, 29, 51, 53, 100, 101BR, 102, 103, 107R, 112R, 120-122, 137-139,158B, 180, 222T, 236BL, 240R, 241B, 242, 24417, 246. Mike Brohm: 13BL, 14, T19L, 24R, 27BL, 98, 99, 106TL, 114, 128, 129BR, 129TR, 140, 158T, 181, 193C, 193B, 195, 198B, 199, 208, 209, 236T, 236R, 241L, 243, 244B, 246TL, 247, 249T, 249C. Steve Croghan: 56-59, 112B, 206B, 207. Ut Archives: 22, 37, 132, 172. Barbara Cheap: 188. Printed by Josten’s American Yearbook Company. The work in this publication represents the views of the individual authors and does not necessarily reflect the views of the staff or of the University. EDITOR’S NOTE This book is the curious descendant of a curioushybrid. In the spring of 1969 the Student Board of Publications attempted to pump new life into the faltering Thoroughbred yearbook and Forge literary magazine by combining them into a magazine that would fulfill the functions of both. The need for such bold experiment was clear. The yearbook had declined dramatically in sales during recent years, and, with its static shots of organizations and administration people, seemed somewhat archaic. The Forge amounted to little more than an annual pamphlet, and was sold largely to those who had contributed to it. However, the Thoroughbred magazine very quickly earned the dislike of UL students by appearing late and by often failing to fulfill its yearbook function. After a con- troversial first year that finally saw four issues instead of the promised six, it lasted another year under new editorship that promised more campus coverage in fewer issues. But the publication was still racked by uncertain dates of appearance, and a student poll in early 1971 revealed that the vast majority of students preferred a single hardbound volume that would nevertheless retain the basic concept and format of the magazine. This is the result — an intentionally jumbled collage of articles, photos, poems, artwork, and fiction. The purpose is to reflect not merely the faces of a few student council leaders, but the actual vibrations of UL, 1971-72. It is in the broadest sense a yearbook, for it attempts to capture and preserve the essence of a certain time from a certain vantage point. It does not have a theme. Like the year itself, it will acquire one from a future perspective. Also like the year itself, it has flaws — some of which are apparent now. Most apparent is the fact that despite the great number of pages and the great variety of subjects covered, this volume has inadequately covered tremendous aspects of the UL experience and is perhaps too greatly oriented toward the College of Arts and Sciences. This has resulted not from the deliberate wish of the staff so much as from its nature. Writers, photographers, and artists are found in Arts and Sciences and that is where their natural interest lies. Compounding this problem, the Thoroughbred staff is necessarily small and thus relies heavily on voluntary help. Thus segments of the campus are often inadequately covered if members of those segments do not submit contributions. The Thoroughbred repeatedly advertised for staff personnel and individual contributions, but the response was uneven. While the Thoroughbred went to great lengths to insure good representation in the senior pictures, we regret that a few of those who made the effort to have their pictures included are omitted. This is the result of identification problems encountered by the portrait studio that was contracted to take the photographs. IN THE BEGINNING... fal 4 NM VED aa ee at BNA al Bela Lonely night-- the leaves scraping across the driveway. Fran Cornett The hot city projects. . . an old street peddler selling puppies. Fran Cornett 15 P 7, : ¢ 74 ee A First Course in Calm } Monch ! O!”té“‘ éiédS A look at the Freshman Symposium experiment on the Kentucky Southern Campus. A REVOLUTION IN EDUCATION inventory by Carolyn Yetter Phase II is: (1) An impotent economic policy; (2) A sexy fouride toothpaste; (3) A de-Vietnamization program; (4) A nuclear explosion index; (5) A revolution. It could be any or all of the above, but on the University of Louisville’s East Campus, Phase Il is the second half of a bloodless, non-violent revolution which began in earnest late last August. Over 95 “revolutionaries” guided by five “ringleaders” and several ‘‘coordinators” concen- trated their efforts not on razing buildings or terrorizing the pop- ulace, but on undermining the “enemy” — _ the _ traditional academic structure. Their plan was to subvert the system by abandoning Belknap campus with its years of trad- ition that are proudly touted in admissions brochures. Their wea- pons were books, their minds, and their ingenuity. Thus over 95 freshman, five instructors, and a group of student staff aides began a trad- ition which may eventually have more meaning and impact than the hallowed portraits in the Administration Building or the tree-shadowed brick walls of Gardiner Hall. The group formed, partici- pated in, revised, and adapted to the Freshman Symposium, which was held for the first year on the old Kentucky South- ern Campus, now known as UL’s East Campus. The theme of the symposium was “A Revo- lution in Ideas’ which con- cluded its first semester in De- cember and is at the time of this writing beginning the wind-up of the second. Its structure is unorthodox, and the techniques might seem shocking and upsetting to any- one who has “successfully” adapted to the rigidity of today’s college life. But the participants are almost unanimous in their support for the program, de- spite a few relatively insigni- ficant drawbacks. There are no grades for the freshmen, and no exams. Stu- dents call teachers by their first names, and students have the option to make or break the program. Field trips, large for- mal presentations, and small eight-person interest groups place the emphasis on_ inte- grating knowledge rather than segregating compartments of knowledge into isolated courses. This has resulted in, among other things, the presentation of the play “Everyman” by a group of symposium students, a field trip to experience pol- lution in Louisville, and a bus trip to an Indianapolis art museum. The program is so new that it is still in the experimental stage. During the first semester, several students felt that the program leaned too heavily in the humanities direction, and this semester more social and natural science topics have been injected into the program. The program is bent toward exploring the liberal arts world through discussions, with the hope of finding some _ partial answers to today’s crises. In contrast to Belknap, where stu- dents set out with a schedule and hope to find classes that fit it — regardless of what they are — the symposium students have a say in what they want to learn and experience. Time is set aside for special interest groups, ranging in everything from yoga to photography. They are usually l@d by one of the five instructors or a_ student staff member. The instructors themselves do not limit their teacher-student relationship to their chosen fields. Joel Gwinn, a physicist, conducted a group in photo- graphy, while Mel Greer, former chairman of the philosophy department, leads a yoga group during lunch time. Ray Bixler, psychologist and symposium co- ordinator, reviews students’ Eng- lish papers. Greer verbalized the senti- ments of the other four mem- bers when he said that he had learned not only from the other instructors but from his students during his first attempt at team- teaching unstructured courses. The teachers not only lead the interest groups, but try their hand at one another’s fields. Gwinn analyzes poetry which would normally have been the exclusive field of Elaine Wise, who spent almost five years teaching English courses on the Belknap campus. Tom McPaul, a member of the theatre arts and speech department, explores the stars during presentations. The “revolutionaries” them- selves chose to participate in the program for a variety of reasons. Several came to try it, they said, in hopes they would dis- astronomy cover what they wanted as a major. Many came just to explore some- thing new, while a few who had visited Belknap campus came to escape the “rigid, impersonal academic atmosphere” they found at the main campus. Despite the no-exam, no-grade 18 policy, Professor Mel Greer, as well as several of the students themselves, feel they are doing as well and possibly even better than they would be doing on Belknap’s campus. “If you take somebody and make them special, tell them they are special, and if they feel they are special, they'll perform better than if they felt they were average,” said Greer. “And our students are special.” Becky Harlege, a symposium freshman who lives in the dorms on the East Campus, explained that the big part students can take in their own education helped their performance, as well as the small interest groups and the regular conferences with one of the five instructor- counselors. She added, though, that one of the biggest factors was the close-knit feeling for each other which runs through the group. “It's a whole different atmos- phere here than on the main campus. | know juniors who take all their courses at Belknap and then come out here to the library to study because of the friend- ship feeling,” she said. Her “friendship feeling’”’ is one reason she thinks most of the students don’t feel the isolation of the East Campus. Originally, isolation was the problem the administrators feared most. To combat this, they planned shuttle buses to the main campus and Oxmoor Center, as well as placed an emphasis on the excellent outdoor recreational facilities such as tennis courts, soccer fields, and basketball and volley- ball courts. Schlesinger Film Festival pre- sentations are screened on the campus, as well as the Civili- zation film series. Lectures, de- bates, plays, dances, and the special interest groups take up a large amount of the remaining time, as well as concerts by the music school students who share the East Campus with the symposium students. However, a few students still feel the isolation, although they would rather stay at the East Campus than transfer to Belknap. Dorm life, too, is a bit dif- ferent from dorm life on Belknap. The rooms are more spacious than any of the four under- graduate dorms on the main cam- pus, and the close-knit feeling carries over into the dorm. Few people use the shuttle service because many of the students have their own cars and are willing to take other students to the centers. Becky admitted that as on Belknap, there is a division be- tween dorm students and those who commute , but the difference is much less marked. “There’re still freshmen here who are into the high school thing, but the smaller numbers here make us all a lot closer,” she ex- plained. Next year presents a strange problem to these freshmen who will most probably have to adapt to the more rigid Belknap structure as sophomores. They fear they will feel restrained and stifled after a year of exper- iencing symposium freedom. Last year one of the big re- servations about the freshman experiment concerned the hard- ship on those East Campus stu- dents who might want to join fraternities or sororities. This has turned out to be an un- warranted fear, primarily be- cause most of the symposium students have opted away from the Greek system. One student explained the majority position. “Why should we need a fraternal system when we can find friendship here just by living?” 19 20 21 22 Pla: L-) ANA AL OUTING. ! ' - = YON al E Employee Picnic | have sat outside the dance hall gates For twenty years now. | think | know their warm cluttered carvings The angels and the evenings that Sneak in sound under the charred mat and out, Into my jealous camp. Sometimes, | run at them Like a charming madman and |, | break into a waltz and a swing, With the music thick | move chattering the Air lighter, after | have passed through it. The Greasy cinderella moments Are stomach aches in the morning; | cannot sit cross legged outside the door The laughter chews through my ears; | must stretch out and move back some few steps. Ralph W. Lowe Excitement Minutes of fire, Seconds of news, Hours of people driving by, taking pictures, waiting a minute for their beep to insure proper development, passing, handling, commenting on light and exposure until their bored children whine, let’s go i want a dairy queen let’s go and their place is taken by a movie camera. Gary W. Fincke 23 SO YOU WANT TO a 24 25 26 27 LAWAS A GREEK a memory by Doti Shores Sorority life, circa 1967: plush rush parties, candlelight cere- monies for newly “pinned” sis- ters, after-meeting soirees with fraternity men, and the ever- present enigma of the plastic super-smile. | was young, innocent and eager to play the coy-campus- coed game... whatever it meant. And in 1967—to those of us still less than confident in our social potential—believe me, the game meant Success. To begin with, it meant a ready- made batch of true-blue friends. In fact, “instant friendship” was 28 the gist of their most popular pro- paganda pieces: “A sorority al- lows a freshman to enter college life with lots of friends... and we all know how fulfilling it is to walk across campus each morning knowing that at least thirty bright smiles will be coming our way, right?” Always cropping up, that super- smile.... | remember feeling like a mis- fit; | just couldn't get that sweet (but subtly discriminating) half- grin-half-smirk to work on my un- willing face. What misgivings | entertained, agonizing for hours over my in- adequacies as a “‘sister.”” All the other Panhellenistes could sum- mon up that patented expres- sion—the symbol of peace, 1i1- ner-harmony and the Greek Way—without so much as a slight grimace sneaking into the act. Me? | was a failure. And not just in the smile category. | was also incompetent as a frat-man chaser. As every experienced so- rority-type knows (and knows well), it’s here that the fiercest competition takes place. In dire moments of rigid self- appraisal, | scoured my body and soul for the defects that were responsible. Why had | failed so dismally? After all, | was a bright, sensitive, aware young woman. Healthy, and in my prime. On that last count, we (the frat men and |) shared something in common. They, too, were in their prime. That is, according to the lurid reports | heard each Wednesday night from my Con- federate Place cohorts. There were tempting tales of fraternity fun and frolic—wild drunks, those famous “purple passions” and threats of security- police raids. As we sisters sat on the living- room carpet of our old, Old Louisville house, epic adventures of happy-go-lucky coeds and beefy, brawny heroes unravelled before me. “Oh, gawd, they threw him in the fountain when they found out we got lavaliered . .. .” or, “I could have died when his bro- thers chose me as their SWEET- HEART!” Or maybe, “Charlie and | stayed up all night working on the float. We just better win or I'll commit suicide.” Suicide? Oh, | considered it, but thought twice about that ad- venture. A little too epic for my tastes. Instead | merely faded into the background. | was confused. My first semester, as a pledge, | too had dates with the famed frater- nity idols. Unfortunately, beneath their well-shined weejuns, | could always detect a pair of cleverly-disguised clay feet. Where were the tom-terrifics that my young mind yearned for? Hiding out in the SUB with the Homecoming Queen? Playing bridge with their “little bro- thers?” Passing footballs on the library lawn? In Vietnam, per- haps??? Giving up quickly in that pur- suit, | settled down to a drab existence of dating independents. Independents indepen- dence—either word was enough to cause a minor riot in the house. | kept my secret to myself; ‘Don’t Rock the Boat” was my motto. It was not an entirely unfound- ed motto. | had my reasons— quixotic but nevertheless sin- cere-for sticking with it. | be- lieved in the ideal of pure friend- ship. | had even experienced it once or twice before. A rap- port; a meeting-of-minds; a simple, unforced relationship between two consenting spirits. | wanted it again, and sought it in the best-publicized, most- accessible manner. A _ sorority. Admittedly, at times the spark of camaraderie was there. They sought it too. Somehow the struc- ture of the system—the ‘what's your major. . .where do you live. ..do you want to be a cheer- leader’ approach to reaching people—just wasn’t working out. They soon sensed that | wasn’t with them all the way. When we s ang “our” songs together, it sounded off-key to me. Not that they weren't a fine chorus. The perennial threat of Fryberger Sing kept them in excellent voice year round. It wasn’t the vocal quality; it was the message. The message of group-greatness, team-spirit, go- go-go-ism. It didn’t jive with the rest of the game. While they chanted praises to the almighty founders, | struggled against a steady stream-of-con- sciousness which contradicted the lyrics of their loving ballads. Through my mind, the jumbled visions went something like this: Two lonesome “sisters” brood- ing alone in the dining room. Chosen by the group because their mothers were alumnae or their grades were too good to pass by, they were also outcasts in their own dues-financed house -One loud, bossy “sister” bitching at everyone else to “do this, do that”... . Long, morbid afternoons, between classes, run- ning another “sister” into the ground because she happened to not be present when there was nothing else to talk about... . Evenings at the Fairgrounds, the “sisters” grudgingly forging to- gether a Homecoming float. Everyone wishing silently that they were somewhere else, but ashamed to admit that this task wasn’t the be-all-and-end-all of their college careers. With these images ever close at mind, it was difficult for me to digest the sugary cliches that were supposed to wash away the sour taste, like a healthy swoosh of Listerine the morning after. The bromides gushed forth most vigorously during rush, the annual rat race that no one won. Rush was the season when | lost my nerve. It arrived each year at the end of summer. Following three months of freedom and, yes, independence, | just couldn’t handle what took place during that endless series of seven days. Rush was a combination of pressure politics and good, old- fashioned hypocrisy. For the bet- ter part of the week, | would con- ceal myself behind a barricade of dirty cups and saucers. To my good fortune, kitchen patrol saved me from the battlefield. Despite rush and all the other grotesqueries, nostalgia—the my- opic muse of memories—still nags me at times. With illusionary prowess, she creates idyllic scenes of carefree young girls enjoying good times together. | would like to believe that; but can’t. In positive terms, the most | can say about my interlude with sorority life is that it was a learning experience—an ordeal by fraternal fire. | survived the ordeal. But the burns sting long after the fire dies out. 29 Hey little leaf lyin’ on the ground, Now you’re turnin’ slightly brown. Why don’t you hop back up on the tree, Turn the color green that you ought to be. The Holy Modal Rounders WATERLOG a curiosity by Gwen McVickar Ridge 30 Her camera recorded this strange angle. When her pictures were returned three days later she gazed at the giant buttercups set against a background of tiny maple trees. Of course the pictures weren't fine and sharp; the film was of poor quality—very cheap film from Belgium. But the pictures are still here in this scrapbook. It was easy to expand this idea from then on, For some children it comes easily, for the rest it comes with a little effort, but it does come after all. il | ps the horse AN ) em As ¥. es su i garden sticks for afence But it does no good to dwell on all this, she found. Being sensitive is probab- ly just a very subtle symptom of having been warped by society. Which doesn’t mean it’s evil necessarily. But taken to an extreme it can be harmful to the sensitive person in his relations with other people. Self-consciousness is expanded to such an extent that every word, every action is analyzed and ster- ilized until the individual risks becoming a vegetable for fear of saying or doing something that would insult or hurt another. In this way he becomes in- sensitive, ruins himself and feels guilty about it. 31 32 “Oh that’s awful.” “Yes it is, | see it happening everyday.” She stood awkwardly balanced on one foot. She couldn’t think of anything in the world to say. She wanted to laugh but it seemed out of place. She won- dered what kind of vegetable she would like to be. (“Call any vegetable and the chances are good that the vegetable will respond to you.” Frank Zappa, “Absolutely Free’’) She saw the robin laying on the ground all puffed up and panting and she thought it was dying. But when it saw her observing its pain, the bird hopped off into the skirts of the spioryea. She was relieved not to see it dying but she resented its letting her see it in the first place. Well, some people may not have had any feelings about it at all, she observed thoughtfully. “So you see that brings us back to the question of good and bad. In nature there is no good or bad. A hurricane is not bad, a gentle breeze is not good. A hurricane is and a gentle breeze is and that is that.” “And is that it, is that everything, sir?’”’ “Basically, yes.” “Come quickly, oh please come. She’s crying and | don’t know what to do. Her tears are so sad and you can see the aching is so deep; too deep for tears to purge. What can we do. What news can we give her about the world, about true goodness without selfish motives, that will stop this suf- fering.” “They destroy the good places and ideas simple men have, they sell death and murder like bread and butter, they cause fine spirits to go insane. These good souls may succumb gently or they might fight but they eventually go and everyone else stays sane and burns away slowly in the mud strug- gling too but not against evil. I’m not making any sense or doing any good. I’m not helping her.” “Hi there! I’m the Sidewalk Reporter from WIZZ. Would you like to be in- terviewed today—get to have all your friends see you on T.V. tonight?”’ YOK. “Well here’s the question today. Do you think there's lite on another planet? Life similar to humans on earth?”’ “| hope to hell there is.”’ “Really? Aren’t you afraid of an invasion from outer space or something?” “I’m more afraid of the merchants of death here on earth. Once | cried when some Welshmen died in a mine accident. A few years later some miners died in Kentucky but | didn’t cry. | was crying bitterly about the fantastic bus- iness of selling armaments and how some dirty ( bleep- ) are selling all our souls for billions of dollars. You see, I’ve expanded my horizons. When the world has turned back into cosmic dust, | hope some creatures somewhere will be able to shake their heads and say, ‘Poor dumb idiots.’ Maybe they'll learn a lesson from us. That's not a whole lot of consolation but it’s better than winking out without a trace.” “Yeah, very eloquent, but what about an invasion? You know, if the crea- tures make us all into slaves or use the earth to test out some fiendish wea- pons?” “Turn it off, Ralph.” “Well, you know that guy has a point, dear. | mean, | think I’d rather take my chances with humans than creatures from outer space.” “Turn off the T.V., Ralph.” “Tell me, Johnny, how do you like the script?” “It’s very exciting Chief, but some of the action will be hard to do,” “What do you mean? We can film the whole thing in one of the ware- houses. We won't even have to leave Hollywood. What's the problem?”’ “Well, of course, Tarzan is a very exciting role to play, I’m honored, but how about these lines. . . Tarzan grasps his kill and drags it to the partial seclusion of the bush which had hidden his near approach, and there he squats upon it, cuts a huge hunk of flesh from the loin and pro- ceeds to satisfy his hunger with the warm and dripping meat.’ ” (Edgar Rice Burroughs, from Tarzan and the Jewels of Opar) “You're a good actor, Johnny, | have faith that you can play the part.” “VIL do my darndest, sir, but it'll be tough.” She was concentrating very hard, trying to understand the way things cook. After all the ingredients are mixed together for a gingerbread and the pan is put into the oven, then what happens? First, the baking soda, eggs and perhaps the flour lift up all the batter about two inches. Then the heat pulls out much of the moisture, but leaves a lot of the molasses inside. The ginger- bread becomes a very rich brown and the texture is dry-moist. You can eat it with your fingers and if you look carefully where you have bitten in, you can see little blocks of stuff piled up—little stacks of sugar that create caves and protrusions the color of ginger and molasses. She marvelled at this work of art and then she ate it. (Looking up from the manuscript and turning eagerly to the circus buff) “Well, how is it going so far, Orville?”’ “These aren't very good characters, really. I'll be honest with you. They have no substance. | don’t feel close to them at all.”” “Well | hate to say this to you, Orville, but they aren’t real people. They don’t care to be and | won’t force them to be real.” “Let me say that | won’t really blame them if the critics pan this.” “The critics are clever and they exploit their power but | pity them because they want to make their own art but they can’t.”’ “| think you look at things too simply. You ought to organize your observa- tions into some sort of system.” “I've tried, but it’s no use. If | don’t react to the world in the ways that seem natural to me, | have to struggle to keep from growling and biting. | hate all the crap that tries to set up one part of me against another part. Am 33 | afraid of discomfort? Am | lazy or stupid? Sometimes this worries me until | look at the people who represent the world of semantics. A few are good, true people but most seem all screwed up and vindictive and disdainful. I’m sure I can live without all that.” “Ah too easy, just too easy.” The two friends pulled themselves up into the tall grass at the lake’s edge. A white snakebird rose slowly from the marshy thicket razzing them with a strange and impudent sound. Three large alligators had somehow found their way through the canals and sewers to this residential community of La Gallina Venerada. Two dogs and several ducks had already been eaten by the monsters. The residents feared to leave their doors unlocked or venture forth alone even in clear daylight. Only one man, Mr. Crawdad, cared for the alli- gators. They would come when he clapped his hands and he would stroke them fondly as they graciously nibbled at the marshmallows he offered them. However, the state wildlife men were coming that day to truck them away to a nearby park. The old man would probably cry sadly for awhile but the neighbors were planning to chip in to buy hima small lizard of some sort— perhaps a chameleon who might be trained to whisper ‘Hiya Papaw’”’ when fed sweet treats. These two friends, the writer and the circus buff, had come to see the al- ligators themselves but had seen no sign of them. However, the day had not been completely wasted. They were sure something good had happened be- cause nothing bad had happened. “That reminds me,” mused the shockingly tall girl in the banana skin dress, ‘| watched a movie on T.V. a few days ago. It was about witches in New Eng- land. | could have sworn Patty Duke played the deaf and dumb maid named ‘Lottie’ but when the credits flashed by at the end, it was someone else. The film was made in England. Did you ever hear English people trying to talk with Boston accents?”’ “What's the point of all this, dear?” “Well,” someone said, ‘It’s only logical that there is a Satan.” “And?” “| thought that that doesn’t necessarily have to be so. You see, he meant that because there was good there had to be evil. But | don’t believe every- thing has an opposite. There isno opposite of the sun. Dark may be the oppo- site of light, but what is the opposite of sun? What is the opposite of tree ex- cept ‘no tree’ or ‘no sun.’ But | mean named opposites or positives, not noth- ings or negatives.” “Are you saying you don’t think there’s any evil in the world?” “No. | just mean that there’s really no way to prove that there’s a Satan.” “Your argument is strange and perhaps you might be right my dear, but didn’t you ever stare into someone's eyes and get the horrible feeling you were staring into the eternal void of hell itself?” “Well no, not exactly.” “Look at my eyes if you will my dear.” “Why Nick, they're bright red! Do you mean you... you are... AHHHH!!” “I’m an artist, not a computer.” “I’m a creator, not a parasite.” “ye H . . “I'm a gourmet, nota pig.” (shrieks ring out) “Cut! Cut! Your acting is terrible!” “Look Chief, these grade B movies are not for me. | should have scripts like ‘Gone With the Wind’ or ‘The Sound of Music.’ I’m an actress, not a clown,” (A man in a sheepskin rug runs to the microphone and shouts into it) “And it is my great pleasure to present. ..!!! WHITE FANG AND THE BLACK DEATHS!!! (The theater explodes with the noise of pain, infatuation, jealousy, and mur- der. No one is unaffected, everyone reacts violently.) (White Fang in a swan costume, runs onstage to introduce the cast of char- acters which are as follows: Ugly Black Death as Ugly Black Death Violent Black Death as Violent Black Death White Fang as White Fang and leader of the Chorus The Chorus and a cast of thousands) The Chorus marches on stage reciting in a threatening rumbling tone: Adam lay ibounden, bounden in a bond; Four thousand winter thought he not too long. And all was for an appil, an appil that he tok, As clerkes finden written in their book. Ne had the appil taken ben, the appil take ben, Ne hade never our lady a ben hevene quene. Deo gracias! Deo gracias! DEO GRACIAAAAAAS! (Benjamin Britten, from “A Ceremony of Carols’’) They form a semi-circle around Ugly Black Death who is standing in center stage. They remain here unmoved for the entirety of the play. The faces of the Chorus (except for White Fang) are bland, blank and identical. Their heads are clean shaven like shining bullets. They wear large round collars and their green velvet robes extend to the floor. Their arms, hands and feet are not visible. There seem to be thousands of them. 35 White Fang, disguised as a crow, leaps from the blob of the Chorus scream- ing and falling to the floor. The Chorus and Ugly Black Death stand motion- less, expressionless. A few deep vibrating chords are played on the Atlantic City Convention Hall organ which is hidden off stage. In a sweet falsetto, White Fang sings a capella: The day is past and gone, The evening shades appear, O may we all remember well The night of death is near. (Old Regular Baptist Hymn) The sound of’canned laughter” and clapping comes from off-stage as White Fang drops to his hands and knees and scurries off into the protective mass of the Chorus. Ugly Black Death, dressed as Brer Rabbit, steps forward, clears his throat a few times and begins to read from a paper he takes from the briefcase be- side him. His voice is detached at first but gains emotion as he con- tinues: Ladies and gentlemen, | would like to share with you my thoughts concerning the Artist in an alien society. The Artist in the 20th Century must not be lured by the pressures of a misdirected at best, and more likely evil and calculating society onto the fish hook of the Wes- tern university. If his senses have not been frozen, his spirit deadened and his creative powers wrenched from him before this time, he must now flash past the grim and fiendish fisherman to save the riches of his genius. If he finds himself caught he must struggle without rest against the alien society in which he finds himself, pulling down around him the great walls on those who have be- trayed him! There is a cheering and stomping of feet from the audience. Ugly Black Death becomes extremely excited and throws his prepared lecture to the ground. He is foaming at the mouth and his cheeks are flushed purple with emotion. Friends of the Artist, | here and now expose the intel- lectual community as a threat to creativity! | expose it as a parasite not content with living off the genius of the ages. | expose it as a vicious predator tearing at the flesh of the Artist, quartering him, crucifying him, poking out his eyes and tearing out his heart with its bloody teeth! Ugly Black Death collapses and is rushed off stage by two men in Skinner boxes as he screams: Long live the “Spectre of Liberation!” The Chorus begins swaying and continues to for three minutes. They break the silence by shouting out: When this little woman did first awake, She began to shiver and shake; She began to wonder, she began to cry, Oh deary me, this can never be I! But if it be |, as | hope it be, I’ve a doggie at home that I’m sure knows me And if it be I, he will wag his tail, And if it’s not |, he will bark and wail. Home went the woman all in the dark, Then up got her dog and began to bark, He began to bark; she began to cry, ‘Deary me, dear! This is none of I!’ (Old English folk song) A float is rolled by on stage but does not stop, going off stage as abruptly as it entered. It consists of an eight foot block of concrete labelled “Our history and past.’’ A man caught in the block struggles to free himself from it. He reaches into the air before him which is labelled “Future.” Arrows are con- stantly forcing him back into the slab of concrete. The Chorus begins hooting and booing and crying “Balled!” “Balled!” Violent Black Death gallops on stage on the back of a St. Bernard. He is garbed in a minstrel outfit and carries a lute around his neck. He dismounts shrilly as a cue for his cohorts to enter. They clammer clumsily on stage grinning and laughing. They are dressed in plastic ketchup bottles. They begin making a tuneless mishmash of noise on crumhorns, rebecs, nakers, and recorders. Violent Black Neath begins reciting in a nasal, dramatic voice: Clanging out upon the greeny meadows, Hanging from the skyhooks flashing bright, The ringing out of plowshares turned to daggers, The yeomen cheer the birthing of their knight. Meanwhile beyond the walls of Darby’s simple kirk, Beneath the twisted bands of hammered brass, Lies useless there the mighty sword of Wolfe Tone While his treasured son lies dying in the grass. At the end of the second verse, confetti and balloons swirl onto the stage. The minstrels scream and run off. A dozen little children dressed in bright raggedy clothes and wearing bracelets and bells come bouncing on stage singing: 37 All the little kids would shout When Silas was about There goes Mingy Stingy There goes Mingy Stingy. Money, money, moneybags Money, money, moneybags. (The Who, from “The Who Sell Out”) They cheer as two figures hand-in-hand dance into their midst—Ivan Illich— who sings “Burn the schools. Tear them down!” and Padre Miguel Hidalgo y Castilla who sings with joy, ‘Que viva El Grito de Delores!” There is a riot of color and confusion, bells and birds and fireworks. As the excitement sub- sides a low chanting from the Chorus, which has stood silent and expression- less all this time, begins to grow louder and louder until the cry resounds throughout the theater: “ BROWN SHOES DON'T MAKE IT QUIT SCHOOL, WHY FAKE IT.” (The Mothers of Invention, from’‘Absolutely Free’’) The whole audience, the Chorus, children, White Fang and the Black Deaths, Illich, Hidalgo, the Skinner box men, the minstrels and the man in the sheepskin rug turn and face the refrigerator at the back of the theater. With their hands over their eyes and tears in their hearts, they begin to sing in rich, swelling voices: Climb every mountain, Ford every stream, Follow every rainbow ‘Til you find your dream... The lights dim and the curtain falls. “Thank you very much dear friends. | am truly moved. | shall remember this day always. | would like to read to you one short item before | leave. | know anything | say will be anti-climactic, even contrary to the directness of the dramatic, but | feel very deeply about this sentiment, as expressed by a colleague of mine: Whence did the wond’rous mystic art arise, Of painting SPEECH, and speaking to the eyes That we by tracing magic lines are taught How to embody and to color THOUGHT. (Marshall Mc Luhan, from The Medium is the Massage) “Yes friends, ‘painting speech’ is magic and being a master of words is the most sophisticated, civilized act a human can engage in. Herein lie the great powers of thought and understanding and disentanglement. Herein also lies the great power of the the superior intellect. Books filled with words—they are everything, they are life!” “Ah, excuse me, Dr, Mots. We'll return in a few minutes after this word from Roater Rooter Sewer Service. Our guests tonight on the Dick Cavett Show are Dr. Palabras Mots and Marcel Marceau. In a minute we will meet Bertha de Blues, Queen of Soul.”’ One night she was swimming alone in the gulf. The moon made silver fish scales of the rippled surface of the sea. Diving into brownness, wet and salty around her body, she was not conscious. She had been swallowed for an in- stant by the strange mystery of her past. “It's only the first time around on the ferris wheel that’s scarey, after that it’s fun to look all around, to wave and drop peanuts on everyone's head.” “Well I'm sorry sonny, this is Poor Jack’s ferris wheel and it only goes around once.” “Say, is this a beer commercial or something?” Oh | am bound to be the rage In the forthcoming Aquarian age. I’m my own religion heaven sent. Now I’m tax exempt Cause now I'm part of it And all | did was just submit. Can’t you feel it running through Connecting me and you. Evolution. The solution. Evolution. (Biff Rose, from “Children of Light”) end BELKNAP THEATER Student theatre takes nerve. A lawyer learns his trade over a library table and in a classroom before his peers, a writer develops his talent in long manuscripts headed for the fireplace, and even a surgeon gets lots of practice on the dead before trying his talents on the living. But there is only one classroom and one training ground for the actor—the stage. Sometimes the training is truly entertaining in its own right. This pictorial shows the making of a play, Belknap’s highly successful October presentation of YOU KNOW I! CAN’T HEAR YOU WHEN THE WATER’S RUNNING. Director Michael McCarty guided his cast from rehearsals to opening night. Now these pages guide you. 42 43 (NI y FT a oo Mme J mes , CER PGF | as = at s 2 ‘ - e who answers the wish of the cricket? who says prayers for the praying mantis? on writing on love any question will do. | have scraped the frog’s mouth against sandstone | have flown meteors on cotton string What is there in the eye of the needle that is not in the tapestry? madness combs the hair on its arms feeds corpses before they are raised from the dead sits in the doll’s teacup the promised land in perpetual pout among the morning glories parachutes come near like priests and disappear in the white of an eye rain in the forest wet the scent of dried apples the scent of semen on the haunches of the pine the taste of fish in the water promise sat a child on the banks until night slit into the day and even the wild orange eyes of the fox evaporated into clouds lynn campbell 47 STARLING personality by Mary Osbourn “Medieval universities had it made,” says Jerry Starling, “the students had to pay the indivi- dual teachers and the bad ones were left penniless.” It was the medieval answer to tenure and salary headaches. One can hardly imagine Dr. Starling having any trouble filling his classes now or even then—though the medieval period falls well before his period of literary study—English Romani- ticism. His classes are usually a lively interchange of ideas among stu- dents and himself, sparked with some rather incredible anec- dotes of the period and a sprink- ling of Freudian sexual symbolism as he nervously sips coffee and flicks ashes out the window. Descriptions of him fall too easily into the stereotyped, which he despises: his ‘aristocratic’ background as a native son of Onslow County in North Caro- lina (“don’t you mean my South- ern decadent background?”); his penchant for collecting books; his love of English gar- dens, his wite Marjorie and his two pre-school aged children (not necessarily in that order); his scholarly, graying-at-the temples image that belies his 33 years; his reputation as a sharp dresser (“Il don’t know where | get this. One student even asked to see my shoes after class.’”) Definitely unstereotyped, how- ever, is his concept of the univer- sity as a Community of students, including undergraduates, grad- uates, and professors themselves. “In order to be a good teacher,” he says, “you have to be a good student. Otherwise, you become a notereader, superficial. You should have something to say to a larger atmosphere than a classroom.” Starling is both a student and a scholar. He hopes to com- plete a book on Shelley, is inter- ested in criticism in the Victorian period, and will conduct research at the British Museum and the Bodleian at Oxford on his next Sabbatical leave. He has not yet published, “but | haven’t per- ished yet,” he adds. In addition to his scholarly in- terests, Starling has an apprecia- tive attitude toward UL students, whom he finds “interested, co- operative in the joint effort of the classroom, excited by theiz work and involved in it.” On the other hand, he shuns the term “relating to students’’ as a superficial and nearly mean- ingless cliche’. He further ques- tions the word “relevant” in re- gard to education and defends his own field as “the most irre- levant subject that one can study in college. But, of course, it is the most important.” Putting a scholar into an admin- istrative position might conceiv- ably present a conflict. But for Starling, who this year made the transition from eight years of 49 teaching to Assistant Dean of the Graduate School, and who has “managed to stay out of politics and finance” in doing so, the conflict has been virtually non- Gxistentic. ee) ee This administrative post is not Starling’s first. Within the Eng- lish department, of which he has been a member since 1966, he served as both Acting Chair- man and Director of Undergrad- uate Studies in addition to his post of Assistant Professor. “| think the day of ‘adminis- trative types’ is over,’’ says Star- ling. ‘Positions such as dean- ships should be occupied by peo- ple of sound and firm academic orientation in the classroom. When the opportunity arose to serve the university in this way, | felt called upon to do it. We all share the responsibility for trying to help create the environment we want for the university and should be willing to serve when we can.”” Instead of balking at an often- termed “repugnant” post, he has plunged — enthusiastically into the student-oriented aspects of it, and has become most in- terested in “planning the inter- disciplinary programs, such as art therapy.” For Starling, this enthusiasm for different areas of study has long been a part of his own life. He once had aspirations of be- coming a medical doctor (‘'l worked 18 hours a‘day in a hos- pital between my junior and sen- ior years”), and did not change his mind until his final year as an undergraduate at Davidson. He also made a serious study of the piano, but finally opted to do Graduate work in Romantic liter- ature (“It was a revolutionary field to study then.”). Following the switch to Eng- lish literature, Starling received a Master of Arts degree and a Ph. D. from Chapel Hill, then spent a year at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland. His current administrative pos- ition at UL inevitably includes a certain amount of influence, and accordingly his attitude to- ward the student movement becomes important. This, too, Starling approaches with a relative lack of hesitation and doubt. He is “in sympathy with the goals of the student movement,” but at the same time “abhors some of the me- thods.”” At the University of Louisville, in particular, he feels that ‘‘stu- dents should assert themselves more by trying to participate in departmental affairs.” “It's a cliche, but I'll say it any- way—the university is in a per- iod of transition. We may feel now that we’re not in touch as we should be.” Politically, Starling styles him- self as “liberal—not radical,” and says party politics “offends him,’ despite his ideals or, per- haps, because of them. Starling, does, however, show enthusiasm for applying “revol- ution” to literature: “One way in which the Romantics seem relevant, in a superficial way, is that they confronted a political situation very similar to our own in a manner that would be attractive to students of today. That is, if they knew about it. “But the most fundamental element in the literature of the Romantics is their conception of the potentiality of man and their distress at the quality of his achievement. Literature is about life and human beings, about the way man sees the world. Its study is essential to the cultivation of mind and spirit. “We're linked to the past. In literature, we can confront a man in the act of giving form to ex- perience and insight. In the study of literature, one object is to try to get students to see it as a part of their lives, as a source of enrichment through contact with the artistic experience.” Fortunately, for the commu- nity of students, this idea did not die with the medieval period. FESTIVALS The exceptionally long period of good weather this Fall was conducive to attending many art festi- vals. Two examples were the folk festival at U of L and the annual St. James Art Fair. The visual exper- iences were there—along with a little junk. 51 52 53 54 a i — , aavir Shee) a ; Wal tee ' “wes mre MLL 55 or is Louisville a city of the few, by the few, and for the few? A look at the Louisville establishment and its growing power. Cy, or GE: SEVENTIES revolution by Doug Magee The study of community power has been a legitimate field of study in sociology and political science for only a_ relatively short period of time. Some of the landmark studies have been Middletown by the Lynds in the 1930's, Floyd Hunter’s study of Atlanta, and Robert Dahl's Who Governs?, the study of New Haven, Connecticut. Middletown was important partially for its being one of the first power structure studies “recognized” by academia. Floyd Hunter and Robert Dahl came into prominence in the field in the 1950’s when they espoused the theories of elite 56 and pluralistic ruling class power itructures, respectively. The concept of an elite ruling class contends that power is in the hands of a small, co- hesive ruling class, whereas pluralism defines the power structure as varying special in- terest groups who only control a certain part of the decision- making process. However, no matter how the line-up occurs, whether in numerous small groups (pluralistic) or in one larger cohesive group (elite), the members of the ruling class still generally come from the same larger class, the capitalist class. The capitalist class, in its lar- gest sense, is comprised of cor- poration presidents, boards of directors, managers, most sal- aried employees (as opposed to hourly wage workers), landlords, and small business operators. In short, a small minority of Americans run this country. This minority of Americans — by their positions, by their over- whelming influence and control, and through the ownership of the media — control the majority’s lives. The majority buy from, rent from, work for, listen to, and are oppressed by the small capi- talist class. We are not only work in their factories, live in their houses and slums, read _ their news, listen to their radio and TV stations, but also go to their schools and must follow their laws and fight their imperialist wars of empire expansion. Poverty, unemployment, slums, pollution, racism, sexism, and other consequences of the present system will not be eli- minated until we can_ identify the root sources of such con- ditions, and then take appro- priate actions to correct them. One means of reaching the root source of these problems is to discover through research the identity of those in control of the decision-making process. There are, of course, varying degrees of power, from nation- al international by such greats as the Rockefellers, Mellons, Loves, Harrimans, GM, _ GE, Ford, etc., to state and local power by such locals as the Binghams, Morton-Nortons, and lesser known families who have been around just as long with as much influence as the old- line River Road families. Most people do not appear surprised that only a few white men have a_ disproportionate degree of power in the country and even in Louisville, but var- ious questions always arise when the subject is brought up. In February, 1971, Geoffrey Brown, a Louisville Times staff writer, wrote an article entitled “Who Decides Where Louisville Is Going?”’. In this article he found after 2 2 months of re- search that Louisville does in fact have an elite but that the elite is fragmented to such a degree that “nobody really runs Louisville.” Civic leaders did agree, though, that a benevolent autocrat or a well-intentioned conspiracy would indeed bene- fit the city. Brown works for the Binghams, but he did com- pile a goodly amount of re- search, although it was not as exhaustive as possible. His con- clusions, however, leave much to be desired. With the research that | have compiled, a much stronger conclusion must be reached. Louisville is indeed run by a group of like-minded busi- nessmen. An attempt to consolidate at least some degree of this frag- mented power is being made through the formation of the Louisville Development Commit- tee (LDC). With this power consolidated, decision-making power will not change hands. It will just become more effi- cient for those who already hold that power. At the present time, with the power fragmented, the majority of people do not see that a ruling class really exists. The feeling is that the East End of Louisville and even more specifically, Brownsboro Road and River Road, has the power over de- cision-making. But no one has pinned “them” down. The emergence of LDC shows that the lack of cohesion is quickly being dealt with by the established leaders. To at- tempt to see the methods of holding power over Louisville, one need only study the LDC make-up and the extent of its interlocking directorships with other power bases. But at the same time, one must remember that the men mentioned as mem- bers of LDC are not the entire ruling class of Louisville, but just a strong part of the larger membership. William H. Abell — Chair Bd. Commonwealth Life-Capital Holding, director of Brown-For- man Dist., Citizens Fidelity, Re- liance Universal, Rexton Fin- ishes, Louisville Fund, Speed Museum Bd. of Governors, Bd. of Overseers of U.L., and Chmn. 57 Council on Higher Public Edu- cation. G. Barry Bingham — Courier- Journal and Lou. Times, Chmn. Bd. of WHAS, Inc. and Stand- ard Gravure Corp., Bd. Overseers U.L., Performing Arts Center Committee, Patron of Belknap Theater. Frank W. Burke — Mayor S. Gordon Dabney — Pr. and dir. Standard Foods, dir. of First National Bank, Commonwealth Life, Kentucky Trust, pr. of Blatz. Paint Co., United Way board, Louisville Orchestra exec. comm., Falls Region Health Council, and v.p., tr., and dir. Louisville Chamber of Com- merce. John H. Hardwick — Chmn. Bd. and dir. Louisville Trust, dir. Commonwealth Life, Porter Paint, Louisville AAA, Louis- ville Orchestra, Kentucky Opera Ass., Pr. Louisville Fund, Louis- ville Convention Bureau, United Way special gifts team, Sta- dium Committee, and Finance Committee for Cowger. Henry V. Heuser — pr. Henry Vogt Machine Co., pr. Bd. Over- seers of UL, dir. of Citizens Fidelity and Louisville Chamber 58 of Commerce. Todd Hollenbach — County Judge. David A. Jones — Bd. Chmn., chief exec. officer and dir. of Extendicare, Dir. of First Na- tional, Action Now, Falls Re- gion Health Council, Louisville Fund, United Way-Community Chest, Kentucky Colonels basket- ball team, ptnr. Greenebaum, Grissom, Doll, Mathews and Boone, on General Hospital Co- ordinating Committee, Chamber of Commerce. Baylor Landrum — Nahm, Tur- ner, Vaughan and Landrum In- surance Agency, dir. of Louis- ville Chamber of Commerce and Courier-Journal Lithograph Co. William F. Lucas — pr. and dir. Brown-Forman, v. p. Bd. Overseers UL, dir. of Liberty National and Dorsey Co. B. Hudson Milner — pr. and dir. LG E, pr. Ohio Valley Transmission Corp., dir. of First National, Commonwealth Life, Kentucky Trust Co., Rexton Finishes, Glenmore Distilleries, Louisville Fund, General Hospital Coordinating Committee, and UK trustee. T. Ballard Morton, Jr. — Pr. and dir. Orion Broadcasting (WAVE), dir. and v. p. Louis- ville Water Co., dir. of LG E, Louisville Cement, Citizens Fide- lity, Stearns Coal and Lumber Co., Louisville Paper Co., and Speed Museum, sec., tr., and dir. WFRV, and former Bd. Overseers of UL expired May, 1970. James W. Stites, Jr. — Stites and McElwain law firm, past pr. and dir., Louisville Chamber of Commerce, dir. of First National, Brinley-Hardy Co., Kentucky Trust Co., Old South Life Insur- ance, and Louisville Fund. W. Armin Willig — former County Judge and Chairman of LDC. Charles F. Wood — sec. Jj. Graham Brown Foundation. Better men to consolidate in- terlocking city power probably could not be found. From look- ing at the list showing LCD members and their other direc- torships one can see the degree to which power has already consolidated itself among the elite. There are dozens more men like the above mentioned living in Louisville and making the daily decisions which affect our lives. Remember that for each corporation and committee named there are ten or so more directors who are also inter- locked with the same, and also other corporations in this and other cities. The pattern of corporate con- glomoration is seen extremely well in the make-up of the LDC. Represented in the make- up of LDC are the city and county governments, the media, 3 colleges, local public utilities, cultural involvement, — banks and finance, health and charity organizations, and various other corporations. And only 15 men are personally represented on the LDC. Another means to power con- solidation is for fellow directors to represent their bank or cor- poration and class in as many directorships as possible. With similar backgrounds and _ profit- making desires, businessmen can easily influence all aspects of community life. By controlling directorships on “charitable” and cultural organi- zations such as the United Way, Louisville Fund and _ Louisville Orchestra and by sitting on the boards of colleges, their influ- 77new © Whit {|| WM a) zi ib =a ence is felt in a fuller manner and divorced from _ straight money matters. Overall influence is important for continuing power over the community. Through the LDC, with fin- ances coming from the _ local banks — Citizens Fidelity, $81,250; First National, $81,250; Liberty, $37,500; Bank of Louisville, $25,000; and Louisville Trust, $25,000; for a total of $250,000 — an advertising agency has begun to promote Louisville as the “City of the Seventies’ in such papers as the Wall Street Jour- nal. This campaign is definitely not geared toward the working man. It is to bring in new busi- ness and keep old business and growth for all business in the area. So Louisville will soon have a working inner-Establishment with the idea of moving Louis- ville ahead of the pack of other middle-sized industrial cities. What does this desire for busi- ness expansion and improvement mean to the average citizen? It would seem that this con- solidation of power could easily be used against him. Sure, more jobs could be brought into the city which draws new industry, but can our com- munity withstand the weight of more air, water, and solid waste pollution? Can our river with- stand it? Or can our city fin- ances withstand favors granted to new industry such as waiving of the property tax for the first five years of the industry’s city existence? ! do not believe that the busi- ness community’s benevolent autocrat will help our city where it hurts the most. What our city needs now is definitely con- solidated power, but not in the hands of a few businessmen or civic leaders. We need power consolidated in the hands of the citizens. The people who live and work in the city are the only ones who can make Louisville or any other area a great place in which to live. Benevolent autocrats_ will only impede this necessity of citizen rule and in the long run destroy the possible community nature of our city. There is little wrong in promoting Louisville, but for and by business and essentially against people is no means by which to achieve that goal. 59 ONCE THERE WAS A WALL... Pan A | ux woe g We 4 de sy ae i fect PPR Paths ti Pe ri TS tats pte Ke to , h How strange it always is to see old photographs of UL as it appeared decades ago. One looks at portions of the campus and wonders at the reality of the past. This year UL students had the experience of seeing the future literally rend the present into the past — physically knocking, splitting and spewing a portion of the campus into a memory. The memory is to be replaced with a $4 million Humanities Building. 60 Progress — once the American god — is fast becoming a dirty word; but this destruction was not done without a purpose. The Humanities Building is not being erected simply to prove UL can build bigger buildings but to provide adequate space for students and professors now cramped into the catacomb structure of Gardiner Hall. The building is scheduled for com- pletion by September of 1973. It will replace a wall. 62 63 OF LOUISVILLE STREET CLOSED $ em . Re 4 AGHER ROC xo + Va) megzd-S3 6_ 64 65 66 67 . —s —— a A y ¢ A, = =: 69 the dancers if they ask for us tell them we are out with the dancers or walking to Mars with our hands in our pockets or anything but dont tell them that here we are trapped and that here we lie dust stuffing our heads and dreams theirs the frog that dreamed it was a man a frog lay on a log dreaming that it was aman a man eating a frog pale sky pale sky pink sky all day we lie watching we breathe a deep sigh and hold our arms and kick the dust pale sky pink sky tell us why did we come to be here alone on the edge g k thomas 71 AND ON YOUR RIGHT — GRANT HICKS personality by Carolyn Yetter Over the Kennedy bridge, north on I-65, and off on the Hen- ryville exit. Through the stoplight of a small Hoosier town, and out a cement highway past small farms and isolated frame houses. Off on a gravel road, and then a bumpy dirt road. The final bump ends in Grant Hicks’ front yard. Hicks, a member of the UL po- litical science department for 24 years, is an outspoken conserva- tive in an age when most profes- sors espouse the cause of liberal- ism. That, coupled with the fact that the details of his past life form a legend among students, leads to the conclusion that Hicks is an unusual man. He is. He’s doing exactly what he wants, where and when he wants. He’s a successful man who’s done everything con- trary to the “laws” of current free- dom-seekers. His legend itself is a violation of these rules. As a brash young man new to the Army, Hicks was sta- tioned in the Mojave awaiting transfer to North Africa when an officer noticed that he was study- ing Chinese. ‘‘I gave him the smart-alec answer that knowing the Army, if | was supposed to be sent to North Africa, | would probably end up in China. The officer arranged for my transfer to a Chinese university in California, where | studied the language and culture,” Hicks recalled. When his training in California was completed, he became an intelligence officer for the famed Burmese Flying Tigers, which had been converted from a mercenary force to a service unit. Later, Hicks served as a liason officer in Chiang Kaishek’s army in Burma and China. Only years later was he actually able to meet the fa- mous Chinese general in person, but he was greatly impressed. He now calls the leader of Taiwan “one of the world’s greatest and most effective leaders.” His experience in the Far East during the forties formed his present opinions on the Southeast Asian situations — opinions which he expresses with candor and enforces with clear logic. “1 see the Vietnam war as an ideological conflict,’’ Hicks ex- plains. “Mainland China has both the desire and the potential to become a world power, and it feels that Southeast Asia is the key to that power. It can’t move north through the Soviet Union, so it will move south through Vietnam, not with rolling Chinese armies, but with Chinese subversion.” He firmly believes that a key to future American safety and security lies in the defense of Southeast Asia. When the rumors last fall indi- cated that Chairman Mao had died, Hicks favored his long life and good health. He explained the paradox by adding, “I can’t think of anyone who has done more to impede mainland China’s technical advance, and their suc- cess will be based on technology.” Hicks admits to the title of “conservative.” He defines the label as one who believes in a use- ful kind of change — slow, prag- matic, and cautiously experimen- tal. But he is violently opposed to any use of the term “liberal,” which he claims ‘‘camoflages a multitude of sins.” When asked if he felt the recent Supreme Court rulings indicated a liberal leaning, Hicks replied, “I think the court is too indulgent and too permissive, if the liberals want to associate those terms with themselves.” He was born the son of a Breck- inridge County farmer, and now owns three farms in southern In- diana. The one on which he lives with his wife Lin Rei, from China, and three children is a vast ex- panse of fields and wooded land. “| love agriculture, and | love the land,” he explained. All his farms are working farms, and he is ex- tremely ecology-minded, espe- cially in the use of pesticides and wildlife conservation. ‘I’m very interested in hunting, and | used to do quite a lot of shooting. But now | would rather feed a rabbit than shoot it,” Hicks says. Fruit trees, a vegetable garden, a flower garden, and steps and a patio in stone surround his coun- try home. The rocks for the stone- work Hicks hauled himself from a nearby creek. Dogs roam all about the farm, and he claims that only a few are really his own. The rest, he says, just wandered in or belonged to neighbors that died. “But we feed them, and they stay here, so | guess they’re ours, too.” Guests enter the house through 73 the back kitchen door as they enter most farmhouses. Saddles hang across a stair railing and the children watch a Saturday after- noon television show. The Hicks’ living room is a blend of Ameri- can farm ruggedness and Oriental fragility. A great stone fireplace lines the entire side of a wall, while his wife’s paintings of their children hang on the others. An intricately carved Oriental table rests in the center of the room beside an old rocking chair origi- nally belonging to Hicks’ grandfather. Hicks settles in his rocking chair to explain why he thinks UL is “a very good school.”’ He believes that the university represents a 74 large cross-section of the popula- tion in its student body, and that there is a good relationship be- tween the administration, faculty, and students. ‘“‘Some of the pres- tige schools don’t use prestige teaching. That’s one reason for the failings of some. But I’m not trying to generalize.” He is very careful never to gen- eralize, and each of his statements is backed up with precise exam- ples and apparently faultless logic. While Hicks admits that he doesn’t personally care for the styles of today and the period’s long hair and careless look, he is adamant when he declares that dress signifies nothing. ‘There are changes with every generation. World War | brought in the lost generation. Every generation be- lieves that it’s the lost generation.” He denies that if he had a choice of doing one thing all the time, he would choose anything. His face glows when talking about teaching, farming, his Army expe- rience, and his family. He grins and laughs when he states that on the whole he has no regrets in his life. As most farmers, Hicks is proud of his land, and ready to show it off. He strides acro ss the fields while his children ride their bikes at his side. He points out the place where he broke his leg last winter when he had to crawl through the snow back to the house. Back at his house, he takes a seat under a persimmon tree, where he displays an amazing working knowledge on all current issues, on each of which he has formed an opinion. He finds the women’s liberation movement ‘‘amusing.”’ For the 1972 presidential candidacy, he favors Spiro Agnew. He believes that Agnew delivered a well-de- served attack on the press, which he says is often used as a vehicle of partisan purposes. But he is careful to add that he doesn’t be- lieve that a partisan press is bad as long as it does not become monopolistic. He is totally committed to the capitalistic system, and fails to find one example of social- ism which he could term a success. As for religion, “I am favorably disposed.” toward it, but organized religion is not for me personally.’’ Hicks believes that a professional army is not in the best interests of a democratic society. ‘‘When an effete people lose the interest and the will in defending their societ y, it is corrupt and a sign that the society is beginning to sicken. A volunteer army will become an elite force, with elite interests and elite concerns.” He has only bitter words for those who are conscientious objectors: ‘‘I would hate to get stuck with them on the front line.” He adds, ‘I have no tears to shed for their cause. They should consider that they are self-indul- gent; other men are acting in their behalf and shed their blood for them. The boys in the front line feel they are the CO’s, patsies filling shoes that these young men should be filling.” Regarding America’s role in foreign affairs, Hicks speaks with quiet conviction: ‘‘Leadership in a great many areas does not mean that a country subscribes to a be- lief in superiority. America is first among the economic powers in the world, and its responsibility is inescapable. It should not seek to escape from this leadership role, but to exercise it.”’ The serious question-and-an- swer session is over when his wife serves jasmine tea and homemade brownies. Lin Rei is a gracious woman whose father was a gener- al in the Chinese army. Hicks can spend hours in either serious discussion over current political issues, or in relating fami- ly anecdotes. One of his favorites stems from the fact that his three children have adopted Hicks’ Scotch heritage rather than their mother’s Chinese. “It’s all because when their mother tells them stories about China, she’s concerned with get- ting all the facts in the right order. When | tell a story | don’t worry about the facts. The children de- cided that being Scotch is more exciting than being Chinese,” Hicks says with obvious amusement. 75 JOHN LENNON IS,...WAS,... myth by John Hellmann It has been several years since John Lennon asserted that the “Beatles are bigger than Jesus,” and while the Fab Four have since broken up and the Galilean has been making a comeback— commercially, at any rate — the Beatles have certainly been super- stars that have embodied and in- stigated some of the great stylistic, cultural, and even sociological changes of our time. The three articles that follow appeared in the Cardinal over the course of a year and a half. Starting with the public disintegration of the Bea- tles, they subsequently trace the efforts of Lennon himself to fash- ion his own unique identity and art out of the remains. The first appeared on April 17, 1970 — the same week as the break-up. Paul McCartney has quit the Beatles. If the break is final a cultural phenomenon that revolutionized the music, dress, and even life style of the world will be for all major purposes defunct. The Bea- tles may be outstanding as indi- viduals, but they are colossal only as a group. They most probably have brilliant careers before them as separate performers and artists, but it will be a little like watching the Three Persons branch out on their own if the Trinity were to break up. With the exceptions of the 76 Kennedy and King _ assassina- tions, the break-up of the Bea- tles should certainly be the most cataclysmic cultural event our generation has had to endure up to now. Curiously, however, it seems to have hard- ly been noticed. In spite of the still almost universal love the group and its works retain, their demise has been greeted with a few inches in the back of the new- paper, a near-afterthought on the Huntley-Brinkley show, and the yawning addition of a new social conversation piece: (‘Well, how do you feel about...”) The Beatles’ death as a group i s AND“ALWAYS WILL BE... really more like a denouement, the unraveling of a death that has already occurred somewhere and sometime that really wasn’t per- ceptible. The Beatles were and are a great myth, a myth of youth and success and magic, and that myth ran its course for as long as it pos- sibly could have and then died. We all knew it was coming sooner or later, and the Beatles’ stubborn refusal to die the quick death of the pop group grown old at twen- ty-five was beautiful, amazing, and tragic. It was tragic because the Beatles had one inherent flaw they could not eradicate no matter how of- ten or skillfully they transformed their image and sound — time. Unlike Peter Pan, the Beatles nev- er really found a Pepperland where they wouldn’t have to grow up. Looking back, if there was one point at which one could have truly said ‘this is the begin- ning of the end” it was the liason between Lennon and Yoko Ono. The Beatles had stopped being children together. The previous marriages of the Beatles had never dented their strong bond with each other. Having experienced the most crucial years of their lives togeth- er in motels and stadiums around the world, they trusted and con- fided in each other more than anyone else. But John’s affinity for Yoko, though superficially a bit of scandalous camp, was really the first time a Beatle became con- ventional. John obviously pre- ferred man-woman love with Yoko to youthful camaraderie with the lads. The Beatles were growing up, and that was the death of the Beatles. It is somehow fitting that Paul was the one to announce that the heart no longer beat. He was al- ways the most Beatlish Beatle, the “cutest” of the “cute” Beatles, and the one who still looked like he did in 1964. He was the last to marry, the last to forsake Beatle- dom for wedded union. He was the only one not running around in the movies, or in peace cam- paigns, or forming new groups or making albums of his own. He was a Beatle to the last, and when it was no longer possible to be a Beatle in the Beatles he liqui- dated himself as one. The manner of his quitting, it ambiguity, makes one suspect that he may even have done it in the slight hope of forcing the other three to join him as full-time Beatles again. Death, being both unavoidable and unacceptable, is the central problem of human existence. From the time we came to wor- ship and identify with the Beatles we have worried about how long they would be able to last. The Beatles have become such a sym- bol of our generation, of our hopes and dreams, that their ca- reer has been important not just as a source of musical entertain- ment, but as an acting out of our fates. In their movies and in their per- formances they displayed all the cheeky independence and naive- te of children, yet had the awe- some money and popularity to be secure in that independence. This was the dream-life of our genera- tion. ‘A Hard Day’s Night’ was an entire movie devoted to watching the Beatles (children) frustrate their manager (governess) by running and leaping about open fields, playing with toy subma- rines in bathtubs, and smarting off to pretentious grownups. Even their work, which in the movie consisted only of laughing and singing and strumming guitars while thousands of girls went into comas and fits, seemed like fun. It was a beautiful dream. But always we wondered — can you be a Beatle at fifty? They won- dered, too. But then in 1967 came “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band” and the New Beatles. | remember the gushing joy with which we received that phenom- enon. The Beatles had beaten the system, it seemed, and we had helped them by going for it. They had thwarted the apparent inevi- tability of becoming anachron- isms by burying their old selves on an album cover, and had created a groovy new music that the crit- ics called art. It was fantastic. They had aged and progressed and come out of it younger and more immortal than ever. John Lennon announced that now they knew that they could be Beatles at fifty, and that was all we needed to know, that yes, our generation didn’t have to grow old. Of course, there were always pessimists and alarmists among us. Some even made us fear that Paul had long since died. But then if it were true, their ingenious cover- up and circulation of clues only made their myth that much more magical and omnipotent. Yet, amid all this faith, the worm always gnawed at the back of our minds. Men die, pop stars grow old, and groups break up. So when Paul made his an- nouncement last week we didn’t 77 A BEATLE go into public mourning, didn’t send imploring telegrams to him, didn’t cry in public, and didn’t cease to exist — we simply looked inward and buried our youth. And got older. The Beatles were dead, but the Beatles live on. Several months later John Lennon released his first serious solo album, called John OnoLennon, along witha scathingly bitter interview in Roll- ing Stone. The following article appeared in the Cardinal on Janu- ary 29, 1971. “It had just got out of hand, and Beatles was the final thing be- cause | no longer believe in myth, and Beatles is another myth. “| don’t believe init. The dream is over. I’m not just talking about Beatles, I’m talking about the generation thing. It’s over, and we gotta — | have to personally — get down to so-called reality.”’ Interview in Rolling Stone John Lennon In both his new album and a recent interview with ‘Rolling Stone,” our old friend and former walrus John Lennon seeks to demolish and utterly disparage the Beatle myth once and for all. Having decided that the Beatles were a fraud — a mere myth — he sets out with all the righteous pas- sion of Martin Luther to uncove r each and every snake and toad that lurked under the marshmal- low mushrooms of Pepperland. Lennon is certainly specific in his explanation of what was wrong with the Beatles. He re- veals that the charming Paul was actually a bossy and conniving, if 78 musically talented, Babbitt — “the greatest PR man in the world.” George fares little better. Len- non insinuates that he was an outwardly pious Pharisee who sang to the world of love but in- sulted poor Yoko the first time he met her with the accusation that she gave off ‘‘bad vibes.” (“I should have hit the SOB!” says John.) Worse yet, Beatle fans, he as- sures us that the true documenta- ry of Beatle tours was not ‘A Hard Day’s Night,’ but “Satyricon.” Floppin’ mop tops! The four lads had orgies? And so, sings Lennon, “The dream is over.” But is it? Lennon seems to think that the ruthless recounting of the truth about the Beatles will inevitably destroy the power of the Beatle myth. No doubt it will affect and perhaps even reconstitute that myth to some extent. However, Lennon lacks an understanding of the true nature of myth. The Beatles’ actual per- sonalities were never more than incidental. It’s true that they shaped the unique character of their myth, but the basic myth was never that much different from that of any great faith. The Beatles were believed to be in some way more-than-mortal: their real significance was that the new generation so desperately needed to believe in them. Who can ever forget how de- termined everyone was to be- lieve that the Beatles were ‘great guys,”’ and later that they were even in some way magical. The generation that had lost faith in the old symbols of church and country frantically embraced whatever the sixties had to offer, even if that turned out to be the doubtful anagrams and clues that were said to be hidden on Beatle albums. People believed that the Beatles could show the way, because they wanted to believe it, and Len- non’s profoundly bitter disillu- sionment only shows how much he himself longed to believe in it. And instead of realizing that the Answer cannot be found, but only searched for and symbolically expressed, Lennon is once again proclaiming his discovery ex cathedra. It turns out that the word is not Love, nor LSD, nor Maharishi, but Dr. Janov’s theory of “crash thera- py.’ Don’t worry about cosmic problems, Lennon seems to be saying on his new album, just real- ize that all of your problems result from your childhood life with Mummy and Daddy. Lennon is only showing once again the naivete that led him to take his mythic role so literally in the first place. At one point on the album he sings a song called “God.” After a long anti-credo in which he declares his disbelief in everybody from Jesus to Hitler to Elvis he finally settles down to the following bit of cop-out compla- cency: | just believe in me, Yoko and me, And that’s reality. | hate to sound like an “effete intellectual,” but Lennon needs to do some reading. For instance, he might take note of Paul Til- lich’s well-known and lucid dis- cussion of the symbol. Tillich explains that myth af- fords its richest insights when it has been understood to be a myth, not literal truth. He reminds us that a myth is a “story of the gods’’ — a symbolic expression of and approach to ultimate truth. Lennon is thus correct in calling the Beatles a myth. He is also cor- rect in attempting to “break” that myth, in trying to show everyone that the myth is often misleading — that the Beatles were not child- like magicians holding tickets to Pepperland, that they were not even particularly nice guys who could so much as get along with each other. But to deny their significance on this count is as foolish as deny- ing the significance of the Adam and Eve story because it never really happened. Lennon is basically just too sim- ple. Like a fundamentalist Baptist faced with evolution, he forgets that the literal and the mythical are not identical. Following his erroneous logic, Lennon has declared that myth is synonymous w ith falsehood, and therefore he rejects any further belief in the Ultimate. Good-bye God, hello Yoko. Yet even the dullest philoso- pher can tell him that the actual act of denying the existence of the Ultimate is proof of its exist- ence. And the ways in which Len- non is attempting to destroy the old Beatle myth — his liason with Yoko, the cutting of his hair, the repudiation of poetic images in favor of the simple lyrics in his new album, the dogmatic declara- tions of atheism — all of these are the elements of a new myth Len- non is unconsciously creating. He has abandoned poetry for straightforwardness, Hinduism for cynical atheism; yet he is still play- ing guru, still telling the world what the Answer is. The new album contains a song called “I Found Out” that is all too familiar. In it he tells us how he discovered that Christianity and Hinduism and drugs were all wrong, and advises us to follow his lead by ‘feeling (our) own pain,” a reference to Janov’s crash therapy. The problem, however, is that Lennon has been “‘finding out’’ for three or four albums now. In “Rubber Soul’’ he found out about Love, in “Sgt. Pepper” he found out about drugs, and next he found out about the Mahar- ishi. Then, of course, he really found out about the Maharishi and warned us away. Next, he started leading us to- ward peace via sleep-ins and rock festivals. Now, he’s found out again. He tells the “freaks to get off of (his) phone” and calls the entire “generation thing” a fake. How many revelations is he to be allowed? However, | am not really com- plaining. Our generation has par- ticipated in the mythic education of our superstars. If we can only remember to thank for ourselves, to be critical and independent of our heroes, we can avoid the mis- takes of fundamentalists from Christianity to Marxism. There is much to learn from Jesus and Marx and Lennon, as long as we remember not to ex- pect too much of them, namely infallibility. Whether or not one is a believ- ing Christian, he can still find great power in the story of the crucifixion and resurrection. And though one may sense a deeper source of man’s existential prob- lems thanthe Freudian psychology 79 Lennon has recently discovered, he can nevertheless feel the an- guish of Lennon's final song on the album, “My Mummy’s Dead.”’ Both Christianity and Lennon have grabbed hold of some myth- ic truth and expressed it memorably. So it is not Lennon’s periodic illusion that he has finally found the Answer that makes him im- portant; it is his constant realiza- tion that he was wrong and must try again. So let’s stop and listen to him, and then get on with the search. He'll be joining us again soon enough. The Beatles continued. George Harrison had great commercial and critical success with his All Things Must Pass album, and cre- ated the biggest rock happening since Woodstock with his Madi- son Square Garden concert for the Pakistani refugees. Paul Mc- Cartney had considerably less critical success, but did well enough with the record buyers. Even Ringo came up with a hit single. Then Lennon moved once again to center-stage with a new album and a late-night television appearance. This last article ap- peared in the Cardinal on Octo- ber 8, 1971. John Lennon bolted back onto the scene again two weeks ago, simultaneously releasing a new album and a new single, alter- nately wise-cracking and pontifi- cating on the Dick Cavett Show, and announcing future plans to tour the U.S. Of course, sly John — former Beatle, walrus, transcendental meditator, acid freak, public nud- ist; present solo performer, athe- ist, revolutionary, primal screamer — has never been off the scene since that first adolescent plea for a hand (gland?) on the Ed Sullivan Show. However, he has gone through various periods of withdrawal when the incredible mixture of naivete and genius that is his per- sonality has been at a particularly turbulent search for a new synthesis. And since the Beatle break-up he has been going through an acutely difficult period of transi- tion — musically and personally for him, mythologically for us. Musically, Lennon attempted in his first really serious solo album, “John Ono Lennon,” to create a solid stylistic path for his ex-Bea- tlish future. Eschewing all of the “fab four’s” trademarks — even the suggestive imagery for which he himself was so noted — Len- non produced an album that was as bare as a world without Beatles. Each track consisted of only Ringo on drums, Klaus Voorman on bass, and John accompanying his singing with either piano or guitar. The nearest thing to the sort of studio tricks the Beatles had once made respectable was a tolling of bells that prefaced the albu m. What’s more, the melodies had a_carefully-going-straight-ahead quality and the lyrics could best be described as honest. The intri- guing “I am the walrus” had sim- mered into the simple if true “now I'm just John.” Yet, for all of its apparent sim- plicity, the album was strangely perplexing. | played it four times before deciding if | even liked it, and to this day I’m unsure as to just how high | would rank it in record heaven. And yet | do feel consistently drawn to put it on my turntable. And if it is musically ambiguous, its lyrics exhibit an eve n more as- tonishing and paradoxical pro- vocativeness. Witness that while Lennon has been the one Beatle to bitterly damn the Beatle expe- rience and myth (‘‘It was more like Satyricon that A Hard Day’s Night,” he told “Rolling Stone.”’), he has also been the only Beatle to constantly sing and talk about the Beatles. John has not and will not be able to avoid the Beatles. He tried to avoid the subject with Dick Cavett and found it impossible. How could he do otherwise be- fore an audience that flicked on their TV sets by the thousands to see the former and — like it or not — forever Beatle? The Beatle myth will not die until this generation dies. We mark our early adolescence by the death of John Kennedy and the appearance of the Beatles, our high school years by the Gulf of Tonkin and the Beatles movies, our college years by the death of Robert Kennedy and the birth of Sgt. Pepper. Each of the Beatles is continu- ing to develop some aspect of the defunct group, and Lennon’s new album, “Imagine,” is quite proba- bly the best individual Beatle ef- fort to date. Having honed a clear, basic style with the ascetic ap- proach of his first album, Lennon now seems much more confident and certainly more willing to range through a variety of styles. Blues, country, rock, and nine- a. teen-fiftyish ballads provide the musical presentation of typical Lennon themes. The title song and single, “Im- agine,”’ lyrically derides the con- cept of heaven while aurally re- presenting it.In spite of its anti- Church and anti-country mes- sage, its ethereal beauty promises to make it the sort of top-40 hit that Lennon’s previous release was not. “Power to the people” just wasn’t good soundtrack for cruising around the Okolona Jerry’s. The rest of the album fails to maintain the awesome beauty of “Imagine,’’ but is nevertheless a considerable achievement. “Crip- pled Inside’ combines a bitter lyr- 4 ic with a smugly good-time coun- try beat, and trails off in favor of “Jealous Guy,’ a winning love song. Other stand-outs are ‘’Gim- mie Some Truth,” which is a des- perate damnation of the false- hope vendors from Nixon to reli- gion, and another love song, ‘‘Oh My Love.” However, none of the anti-reli- gion and anti-country songs are likely to be as controversial in today’s world as ‘‘How Do You Sleep?” It is a series of vicious accusations against Paul Mc- Cartney that manages to include a comparison of his music to Muzak and a rather frank criticism of his head. All you need is love? 81 STUDY OF ART Dr. Jay Kloner believes that modern art is found not only on _ walls, but also in such exotic forms as ‘“happenings.’” This year his Modern Art class happened to a ’57 Chevy. 82 a ii uy! « 83 RED CROSS ON CAMPUS PRINTS by several UL Printmakers 85 Intaglio 86 “Surprise II” Larri Porter 4 — = = +, = ‘- ans J ey BX 1} eZ a - 4 ¥ ,' t c . ; Sal, S ata 4 ; ¥ s 15 CD IDS. — te _ a Larri Porter “Group III” Intaglio 87 Wood Engraving I UN vE! Se ee Larri Porter Silkscreen “First Study in Black and White” Sandy Patterson Gj « SF Ze —— = 4 7¢ an -— er) LAP AAS TID Tid p 4444 FA PT IFT LEA Sharon Grace “Furnace” Etching 90 Wood Engraving y) y ‘S 0; i Y f | feo Nyss A (eo Ae � . Wy BS a chit = x I | ot Fy ive Oily my Bill Horan 91 ‘ mx) x +e SS a WY Ny HAN) : ! ‘ ‘ Y) nt wi � Ny i) Sarah DuPre Etching 92 “Saturday Morning” Woodcut Bk ’ amet er — WAP WANA Na MTT MONT TM hn os 5 dl ina iM Etching “The Amusement Park” Phyllis Breeding 94 Phyllis Breeding “The Dream” Etching 95 Etching “The Judgement of Paris” Raymond Yoder 96 ‘ Saute ANS meus sath a N ‘ NT HIN SRN N REY i ml | Etching Cynthia Spalding o 1 U fo es O re a O 7 Homecoming added something new to the old, replacing the chicken wire and crepe paper floats with a rollicking good street fair on Belknap Cam- pus. Louisville personalities offered themselves on the seat of Phi Kappa Tau’s “dunking booth.” Coun- ty Judge Todd Hollenbach found the situation famil- iar enough. ij “ 3 By Ye (ema , iyi) ? Blood, Sweat, Tears gave a concert on Friday night that drew a disappointing audience of less than 2000 and a disappointed response from those that did at- tend. Susan Edwards received a much more appre- ciative response as this year’s Homecoming Queen. 101 102 ; . . —_- - | | ihe ie. 1234867869100 VISITORS All the way CARDINALS 3 BUILDING Y AND “GROUNDS 109 s 4 ym he! ‘ae 110 NOTABLE VISITORS Gerta Bendl Sen. Samuel Ervin 112 Robert Hayden While hardly the political, social, or cultural crossroads of America, Belknap Campus does on occasion welcome exciting guests. Among this year’s visitors were Gerta Bendl, who has proven that women can do more in politics than lick stamps, and Senator Samuel Ervin of North Carolina, who has fought deter- minedly against such “fear of freedom” bills as those that ad- vocate preventive detention and “no-knock” laws. Poet Robert Hayden, formerly a Bingham professor at UL, returned for a reading of his work. 113 TURKEY TROT Everybody’s doin it 114 115 oo ee a nt.9 8 8 08 0 0 66 eeeeeeoeeveveese = wii ee One. 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Mo oe ete ntnt.@ © 0 00 e's NO he ae aN he he he Oe be he Oh he he cere gece. 828 .ereteceletern ®@eees. OO eh a he @ oe a ntn7.2 8 © @ ec e's Sess wena eee ene ane? ® 8 8 88 ee s TEni@=8. 878. 0°6 166.06 eenea a a hh ht a a Fone ooo nt.9. 0. 0 0 0 0's . ®eeee. Mere tatetettateteeettatetattetetet et te ’ Oh a Re hee Sorgen 028.6. 6:0 6 a's ®esenes ooo tee 0 00 eee @eeensnenenes ae he a he he Le eeeeeeaene eeeeeeevecs se a A EAC FWY ot hay pet S@esnees ®@ees.s eh ar he a a he te se ene c0'0'0 o's es Pe) se e ° ' eee eeenens ee e'e's ceras ne the winding dirt path that was the main street of Roachtown. He could see a store and a post office, a jail, and a few other small businesses. There was even a gas station with a sou- venir shop, on the side of town closest to where the highway ran, in case any traveler or tourist strayed off the main road by mistake. He wrapped his thin cloth jacket closer about him as wind- edged ice sirened through the bare hills, and continued walking toward the nearest shack. It was like many other houses in Roachtown — a rickety porch with steps that had _ boards missing here and there, walls of rough-cut boards and _ batten strips all warped and cracked, and a tar paper roof with stone chimney that smoked all year around. Pulling himself a final time from the mud that sucked like quicksand at his feet, he gained the first step to the porch. He had nothing to clean his feet with, so he pulled at the bottom of his jacket to straighten his appearance. He knocked at the door. After a moment, the door opened slightly, and he saw a small woman hovering behind it. “Hello. I’d like to talk to you if | may come in.” She said nothing, but closed the door. As he raised his hand to knock again, the door re- opened and a man was standing where the woman had been. “| have something very im- portant to discuss with you. If may comein.,.” The man behind the door stared athim coldly, his dark eyes boring through the young man’s face, appraising every inch of his body, every slight movement. The eyes didn’t blink as they noted how the blue jacket hung loosely off the young man’s shoulders and how the hands were smooth and soft. Seeing or not seeing what he was look- ing for, he nodded and stepped aside, allowing the young man to enter. “I'm sorry about the muddy shoes, but | had nothing to wipe them with.” The man_ remained silent, pointed to a wooden chair, motioning for the visitor to sit. Unzipping his jacket, the young man sat down and looked where his shoes had tracked mud over the braided rug, its red and blue the only spark of color in the room — the rest being drab wooden walls, a_ small uncovered table made by hand as the chairs were — uneven and rough, but sturdy. A fire smouldered under gray ashes in the fireplace. The man = said, “Coffee, Martha.” A side opened and the woman with soft side- glancing eyes of a bird, entered the room carrying too cups of coffee and then left. The man grasped the chipped mug _ in calloused hands, drank, and said, “Well?” The young man smiled as he eagerly put out his hand. “‘My name is Steve Miles.” The other remained motion- less, then slowly reached over and shook hands. “Jacob Ames.” “Mr. Ames, I’ve come from Washington, D. C. to set up a welfare program in Roach- town and other mining com- munities in the county. The government puts aside a cer- tain amount of money each year to help different areas of the country where incomes are at a substandard level. That is, if you are making a small amount of money per year or are com- pletely unemployed, you are en- titled to draw monthly checks from the government.” Ames looked like he hadn’t had a job for years. His heavy shirt was torn around the poc- kets and his pants bagged in worn-out wrinkles. But his face showed more poverty than his clothes. There was a hollowed, burrowed look around his cheeks that crumbled in lines at the edges of his jaws. It was a sand- stone face, roughened by weather and scratched with peppery gray whiskers. Only his eyes seemed alive — deep and_ watchful. His shoulders were bent, but his arms were angular and hard. There was no telling how old he was. His lips opened a crack, exposing a broken-off front tooth. “’Xactly what are you saying!” “I'm saying that with your salary you have a right to get money from the government.” “Without doin’ nothin’?” “It’s because you don’t have a job that you can get the money. It’s there for you to have.” The room was quiet. Then, “1 don’t want it.” ! can understand your hesi- tation. You’ve always worked for what you've gotten. Right?’ The unflinching stare of Ames’ eyes went beyond Miles’ and into t he past. Then he looked back at the younger man again. “I'm the first person you been to.” It was more statement than question, but Miles re- plied, ‘“Well,yes.”’ He put aside his empty mug and reached for two tin cans on the table. From the smaller, square container he took a thin piece of paper about as long as a finger. “Smoke?” Miles shook his head. “No, thanks.’ Ames put the square tin can back on the table and picked up the large round one. The lid fit snugly on the top of the can and Ames had difficulty prying it loose. ‘Lots of folks round here might not tell this. But | was there. 117 Don’t never want it agin. Never.” He paused and looked Miles hard in the face again. One side of Ames’ mouth twitched slight- ly as he weighed one feature against another — the pointed predominate nose shaped like a carrot against the disarming blue eyes. Miles might have been good-looking except for that nose. Ames struggled once more with the top of the tin and it finally came off. There was crumbled-up tobacco _in- side the can. “Years back, ‘nother govern- ment man came to see me. Only then we didn’t live here, but up on the mountain. Had some land, not much, but | growed things and got by. Well, one day this man, name of Rice, he come walkin’ up to my house. Come in, set, started talkin’.” As Jacob took some tobacco and carefully placed it on the paper, he told how Rice said a big road was coming through that would connect them with other towns and places, and big companies with good jobs would be attracted to such a community that looked to the future. The highway meant a better life for everyone. “Musta tho ught that road was comin’ straight from heav’n and paved with gold the way he went on ‘bout it.” With that, Jacob snapped the lid closed on the round can and put it next to the square tin already on the table. He picked up the paper and slowly tried to roll it without dropping any tobacco. Despite the stiffness of his big, square fingers, he deftly enclosed the loose to- bacco with the paper and lifted it to his mouth. Ames licked the end paper and pressed the edge down to seal it. After twisting one end of the cigarette, he pulled matches from his shirt pocket and with one long puff lit the open end of the cigarette. 118 “It sounded pretty good, al- right. Then Rice said he was glad | felt that way ‘cause the road was comin’ right through my place and | was goin’ to have to sell my land for it. | said it could go some other way, but he said no. The government told it had to go this way and it was payin’ for the road. Said if | didn’t sell, the government’d force me off. It had the right. | set awhile, then told Rice to come back in the mornin’. But | saw there warn’t no way round it.” Jacob sat back in his chair and sucked in deeply on the cigarette, then exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke. Between puffs, he con- tinued talking, one word at a time. He sold his land and moved into town. Rice kept buying one man’s land after another until he had all that was needed but one part, and that belonged to Abraham Jack- son. Ames leaned forward and flicked an ash into his coffee mug. Again one end of his thin mouth twitched as he described Jackson to Miles. Abraham Jack- son owned a farm next to Ames’ old place. It was only a few acres of land, but Jackson raised some vegetables and tobacco and seemed to get along as well as anyone. Even when his family was alive, they stayed off by themselves. But after his son and wife died — “We knowed ‘cause he come down for stones. After that, hardly ever saw him. Lived alone, ‘cept for this crow he found one day. Wing was hurt some way. Well, he healed that crow and it stayed with him after that. Recollect one mornin’, | walked past there and he was workin’ in that field, jist talkin’ to that crow. But never said much to people. “He’d come to town, always had a walkin’ staff. And when he thought somethin’ he’d jist kinda shake that staff, hit’n’ the gound with it. “‘Mebbe mumble somethin’ to the side. But never say much. You could see him comin’ — that crow flyin’ over him or sittin’ on his shoulder. That long white beard wavin’ in the wind. Same blue overalls. And that staff jist thumpin’ the ground. He’d trade tobacco for supplies, then go back up the mountain. Not come down for months. Musta loved it up there, the way he’d never come down.” Harsh smoke from the burning tobacco had drifted in a choking haze around Miles, and he breathed a long sigh when Ames stood up and _ walked over to the fireplace. Jacob threw the butt of the cigarette into the hearth and rested an arm against the mantle. Miles voice seemed to echo through his long nose as he said, “So this man, Abraham Jackson, owned the last bit of property needed for the high- way. What happened when Rice went up to talk to him about it?” “Warn’t no way Jackson was movin’. | coulda told him that. Guess when Rice told how the government could throw him off—that’s when Jackson musta throwed him out instead.” Jacob coughed violently, dry, hacking bits of cough. After rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, Ames told Miles how he had been sitting by the stove in the general store just passing the time of day with a few of his friends, when Rice came storming in. His fat face was red as fire and he was shouting how Jackson was ruining every- one’s plans. He must be off in the head to be so selfish. “Rice started talkin’ to people, pullin’ ‘em aside, tellin’ how Abe was keepin’ ‘em from the money and the jobs. Well, people in town always thought Abe kinda strange. Kinda funny how he stayed away by hisself, never sayin’ nothin’. So the more Rice talked, the more they lis- tened. Started gettin’ real mad. Rice even had Sherriff Grant make out a paper orderin’ Jack- son off in a week.” Miles’ light brown eyebrows lifted. “Didn’t that settle the matter?’’ “It warn't no good. Jackson was stickin’ like a burr in a mare’s mane to that place of his. He warn’t goin’ nowhere. And by the time that week was over, Rice’d stirred people round and round, addin’ more wood to the flame. People’d set by their fires at night, dreamin’ ‘bout the new life and the money. Like a man thirstin’ for a drop of water and one thing standin’ in the way of a whole spring. Abraham Jackson ... Come time for the sheriff to go up there.” Jacob coughed again, his bent shoulders shaking. Then he sav- agely kicked into the ashes of the fireplace and a single flame rose from the heaped-up hearth in sullen defiance. The firelight brought out the red color in the braided rug and reflected in a wet shine off of Jacob's broken tooth as he stared into the fire. “So it was time for Sheriff Grant to go up the mountain to get Abraham offa there. Well, by then some of us decided we’d better go and make sure he was moved out once and for all. Was late afternoon — | ‘member ‘cause the sun was jist hittin’ the tops of the trees. Course that was before slag and mud slides from the minin’ had killed off most of ‘em ... We went marchin’ up the gorge toward his place. The sheriff, Rice and mebbe thirty, forty of us. Rice’s face was all sweated up and puffed out — always urgin’. Never forgit Grant’s head against that sky, all burnin’ in the sun- set. His mustache bristlin’, jaw stuck out.” Jacob stared even more in- tently into the fire. “So what happened?” Miles stood up and walked to the fireplace, but Ames did not move. He was remembering how the sheriff called out to Jackson. The yells echoed off the side of the mountain, but there was no other sound. “Even the birds hushed up for the night. Seemed like the crickets was scared to. start chirpin’ in the grass. Still warn’t no answer. So we started on. Then the door opened and he walked out — that white head of his jist craklin’. Pounded that wood staff of his right through the planks of that porch. We stopped.” The wind blew down the chimney and made ai shrill, empty noise, but Ames only heard Jackson’s words about the land — soft words that had stuck loud as thunder in his memory. But Jacob simply said to Miles, ‘Them eyes of his — they looked straight at us.” Miles said nothing in reply, but looked down into the fire himself. Ames voice rose bitterly. “But then that Rice. He seen what was happenin’. Began hoppin’ round, all puffed out, croakin’. Waved his hands in the air and started shoutin’ we had to get him out. He kinda pushed the sheriff forward and then Grant started shoutin’ at us to come on. Men started followin’ ‘em. Jackson, he jist stood there. Couldn’t see what happened after that. Warn’t goin’ to hurt nothin’. Just scare him away. Don’t know what hap- pened. We all jumped up on that porch. Musta hurt him some way. Know that staff of his was broke. Couldn’t see nothin’. But we cleared off that porch and he was in the dirt by the side of it. Nobody said nothin’ ___ | couldn’t stand no more ” “We got to get him to town for help. Some of us, we kinda lifted him. But he spoke, couldn’t hardly hear him. Wouldn’t leave, even then. We kinda eased him back down. Warn’t no use any- way. His beard all limp, dirt in it ... Then his mouth opened and blood — it gushed out onto the ground.” Ames’ voice trailed off. He turned away from the fireplace for this time the fire had gone out completely and no amount of kicking could possibly re- kindle it. Jacob walked back across the room and lowered himself into his chair. He sat forward with his arms resting on his legs. “Don’t know what happened to Rice. Jist upped and dis- appeared. But we got the road alright. Yessir, we got the road. And with it come the mine. Don’t matter— closed down. Never saw no money, no place to go. Thatroad ...” Jacob's eyes sank deep into his head. “Buried him up there — next to his kin. Hear tell up there on that mountain, some _ nights, when fog’s creepin’ in— he walks along that road. Up there, where his land was. That beard kinda floatin’ in the clouds. That crow hovern’ over him. He walks up there, Poundin’ that staff ontheroad...” Jacob’s head bent to one side. There was no sound. “Now there ain’t no way we’re gonna listen agin.” Miles stopped and looked back down the valley. The houses were black clots in a sea of freezing mud. He could see no life crawl- ing through Roachtown, for it was almost night. The sun was now behind the_ hills, and the mountain, huge and silent, threw a darkening shadow across the town. 119 GIMMIE SOME ROOM — | PAID FOR IT 120 HE’S EVERYWHERE HE’S EVERYWHERE 122 YOU SEE, COMMUTERS THERE ARE THESE THINGS CALLED DORM 124 Just bathed nakedness Pressed long upon the bed Until the heavy shoulders And the head Hang off. Blood beneath my eyes And in my hair-hung head Like painless throbs Pumped into Raw thumb c uticles New tool fingernail Rat scratches The miniature Corrugations Of the wooden floor— Slightly cool When a knuckle Slightly Collapses there. Arm flops off the bed And knocks. Eyes fall back— And off my head A flurl and a tangle Upside down Sleeps soft and quiet On the table Of the floor. Another room Too far away— A radio rants Under After summer sheets. A shower runs. And out the window Crickets chant to soft, rushed Traffic’s hum. The drum subsides. The humming slows, Stretches Through my stomach Slides Down my neck Then Slips off my chin. And smiles. Kathleen M. Heintzman 126 The Toilet Tissue Man Grey shirt sleeves half rolled Washed-out pants dry slate color Worn white around the pockets and the seams — Cuff’s hem shredded, ravelling down— Trudging along the sidewalk’s edge Brushing grass tips with hard soles But never pressing brown earth down— One black hulk of shoe Slowly brought alongside the other — Lame and heavy shuffle Scuffling concrete rubble at the side — Passed by blossoms in soft splashing, Passed by lank blue jeans lean cloth bottoms Hailing, ‘“Nice day, isn’t it!”” Passed by scuttling leaves and squirrels, Passed by mohair scarves hung round loose wool collars, Furs and fuzzy gloves and books — Quick steaming corner smiles, “Cold enough today, isn’t it!” Under greying mustache coarse and shaggy Mumbles something — Under splotched and layered shadows Or flat and shaded webs of leaves — Always under arm a roll or two of toilet tissue Crisply wrapped and stamped with faded daisies — Trudging along the sidewalk’s edge Mumbling a deep smiled reply To jaunty or compassioned Comments thrown his way, “It's great outside today! Isrn’t it?” Kathleen M. Heintzman 127 INTRAMURALS wy . A = ote mes Lhe 128 129 co eg e PN Ae ‘fe BETWEEN TIMES 130 Run By We have repeated ourselves en masse. We have grabbed the swing with both toes. We have boxed the box-car and hemmed in the whore. We have shuffled down the hall innumerably, and picked up the scattered Sunday papers. We have looked behind us and in front, let our faces hang gray as haunted fogs on the sea. We have listed our neighbors like groceries, and checked them off with a stab of a pencil like night-watchmen locking door by door. We have let the years run by like dogs with jagged-toothed collars, let them snap at our heels, and left the slighted marrow of our hours to scorch like burning neon in our bones. Waiting | grow soft and white like the meat of an apple. You shall pare me one day with bladed silver, and | say ‘So much for your mercy.” You have poured me between skins, and I snuggle warmly there, answering to a given name | have memorized. Routine is the umbilical | hang on, while your dark fingers furrow my face with lines deep and wide as cracks of a map, your aged seductress signaling my blue veins to follow. Dorothy Foltz TOUCH , The clouds are spread thin, | Like fine white lace against : Shimmering blue, Se As they stroll carelessly . Across the sky: lovers tripping Down a smooth but barely travelled country road Ww In Autumn. | have made you mad By speaking, in my fashion, Moronic sentiments. You frown, as if to say — And then say nothing, Louder than any harsh words. You turn your head And | wonder, what are you thinking? Have I ruined the countryside for you? Have | stripped the glorious colors From the turning trees, Translated green fields into A black-and-white negative, Thrown shadows across your sight? Look: A thunder cloud moves overhead, Like a tyrant, Shouting down threats of a violent rain. Was that lightning up front, See there, beyond those tall pines Guarding the mellow rise of a cliff? You grab my hand impulsively, Shudders, like electricity, Passing between us, Through locked fingers, Entwined emotions, Painting color, brighter than before, And more brilliant, Back into our country-scape. Alex Stiber FANATICAL OR BORED, ACTIVIST OR STATUS-SEEKER, TODAY’S COLLEGE GRADUATE IS INCREASINGLY ENTERING THE LAW SCHOOL article by Glenn Bossmeyer The University of Louisville School of Law goes back to the school’s inception — 1846. Since that time it has grown to be the primary source for the Common- wealth’s lawyers, as well as an important source of legal talent for the rest of the country. Under the leadership of Dean James R. Merritt the school has grown greatly over the last few years, and now has an enrollment of over 600 students, including the largest freshman class in the school’s history. To make room for this greatly increasing enrollment, the school has in the last several years taken over the former Music History building to use for office and classroom space, and in approxi- mately eighteen months will be moving into its new annex, which will house a new library to relieve the greatly overcrowded condi- 136 tions in our present library. The Law School is a three year graduate school open to those who have received a baccalau- reate based upon a four year pro- gram at an undergraduate institu- tion and who have made a satis- factory score on the Law School Admissions Test (LSAT). The strin- gency with which the Law School looks at LSAT scores is shown by the fact that of the over 1400 stu- dents who applied for admission as freshmen this fall, less than 250 constitute what is now our fresh- man class. There are perhaps as many dif- ferent motives for choosing to study law as there are freshmen, but most of the students have chosen the study of law for one of the following reasons: 1. What is probably by far the most compelling reason for the majority of the school’s students for enrollment has been the dra- matic increase in demand for law- yers and legal services over the past decade. With the concomi- tant increase in demand in gov- ernment and industry for lawyers, both in their relations with each other and internally, there has been an unprecedented increase in the number of openings avail- able, and the amount of money to be made has likewise increased materially. Many of the aspiring young law students hope to use their law degree to capture one of these positions. 2. Another motive for the study of law is that of what might be called the idealist. Idealists are hard to pin down, and the partic- ular ideal for an individual may range from wishing to get a law degree to help with the poor and downtrodden, to those who wish the degree in order to learn bet- ter how the establishment oper- ates in order to learn better how to destroy it. Somewhere in be- tween would lie the bulk of the idealists — they have seen that most of the initiative for social change in the past two decades has come from the judiciary, and they wish to be among those whose responsibilities have more and more included the interpre- tation and setting of public policy Those who would wish to influ- ence change from the executive or the legislative level are also aware that those with back- grounds in law dominate these two branches as well, in both state and federal government. 3, With the increasing inter-re- lationship among professions, a legal education is increasingly useful to those working in other areas, such as real estate, insur- ance, banking or accounting. This has been particularly true with 137 accounting, which, because of its close association with many tax problems, has many areas where a legal background is useful, if not mandatory. The importance of law to the CPA is shown by the fact that one of the four sections of the CPA Examination is devot- ed entirely to testing the candi- dates knowledge of Commercial Law, and no candidate receives his certificate until he has exhibit- ed the proficiency in law neces- sary to pass this section of the law. Although a law degree as such would not be necessary to gain the necessary knowledge to pass the law section of the exam, there are some areas in accounting, such as the tax department of a CPA firm, where a full legal edu- cation is almost an imperative to advancement. 4. Closely related to the above motive is that of using the law to improve skills in areas where one is already employed. An example of this would be a bank officer, who would not necessarily need a law degree to remain in or ad- vance from his present position, but would nonetheless find a le- gal background very useful in the work he was already doing, as well as in that he might reasona- bly expect to be doing in the fu- ture. This would be particularly true of the trust department of a bank. 5. Last, and perhaps most igno- ble of the motives to study law, is the motive of going to law school because there is nothing else, or at least nothing better, to do. The number of these people will nev- er be particularly great, but the recession of the last two years has definitely added to the ranks. These are people who would perhaps be happier as corporate 138 executives, but who find they cannot find a suitable job in the current market. Faced with the prospect of sitting around and staring at the walls while they await the return of prosperity, many of those who have or who can get, or whose parents have or can get, the resources to go to law school, choose this route. In any individual, of course, it is extremely improbable that any one reason would be the exclu- sive motivation for the study of law, but several or all of the mo- tives are intermingled with each other in various degrees. The law school’s self-pro- claimed primary purpose of exist- ence is the provision of a sound legal education. It rewards those of its students who have success- fully completed the required eighty-four hours with a Juris Doctor (J.D.) degree, as evidence of the knowledge they have ob- tained in their field. Because of the school’s pre-eminent respon- sibility in furnishing lawyers for Kentucky, great emphasis is laid on those courses that will be use- ful or necessary in the candi- dates’ preparation for the Ken- tucky State Bar Examination. This slant does not materially in- jure non-Kentucky students, however, since the _ basic demands of the bar associations are not that different from each other. Most of the curriculum is geared to give the student a broad legal education rather than a spe- cialization in any given field. This is necessary, first of all, because of the broad range of topics covered on the Kentucky Bar Examination, in each of which the candidate must have a well-grounded gen- eral background. It is necessary, secondly, because of the over- crowded conditions of the school, with the consequent result that neither teachers nor classrooms are generally available to teach courses with few, if any, broad applications in their subject matter. The typical semester for a stu- dent consists of approximately fif- teen hours of classroom work compressed into two mornings and two afternoons a week. There are no classes on Friday. This con- centration of classes enables the student to have the equivelant of five full free days. This is not to suggest, of course, that the aver- age student is thereby able to spend five days lying in the sun and relaxing. On the contrary, the average class demands at least for- ty pages of text and case reading a week in addition to checking cites of cases in the crowded condi- tions of the library. In addition, freshmen are required to partici- pate in a moot court program Moot Court consists of the stu- dent preparing and briefing a case assigned to him. After he has briefed the case he must make oral arguments before distin- guished lawyers of the communi- ty who judge each candidates presentation. Those students ad- judged to be best in each group advance to the next level of com- petition, where they argue the case again, perhaps from the opposite side; they continue to advance in the competition until the selection of the final champi- onship Moot Court team. As far as the courses themselves are concerned, material ranges from such intriguing questions as to what the criminal responsi- bility of winners of a Russian Rou- lette game is if one of the players lose, and what are the rights of a woman against a man’s estate if the man is so crude as to slit his throat in her kitchen, causing her severe emotional distress as well as messing up her kitchen, to such considerably less intriguing sub- jects as what constitutes an offer and an acceptance in Contracts cases, and when one can gain adverse possession of the land of an infant who became insane in 1960 and died in 1968. Besides these in-class studies of law, many opportunities to learn are presented to students through the activities of the Student Bar Association (SBA). Pre-eminent among these activities is the SBA‘s lecture programs, where on a dozen or more Friday’s during the year distinguished lecturers, such as Senator Sam Ervin or Edward Kennedy, are brought in to ad- dress the student body. Students from other schools in the Univer sity are also welcome to these lectures Besides the formal structure of the school, there are three legal fraternities in the school which perform both social and profes- sional services for their members, including an opportunity to meet one’s fellow law students on a so- cial level and to have discussions with knowledgable men and women in the field of law Although law school is similar to undergraduate school in many details of form and structure, it differs markedly from these schools by being almost exclu- sively concerned with the giving of its students the technical train- ing necessary to pursue their cho- sen profession. They are expected to have already acquired a broad liberal arts background before embarking upon the study of law. 139 GREEK CLEANING Realizing that the only way to get something done is to do it oneself, the fraternities and sororities banded together to eliminate the eyesores and some of the health hazards around their houses. 140 141 142 OFFICE OF BLACK AFFAIRS The year saw UL’s Office of Black Affairs, under the new leadership of Charles R. Woodson, continue to expand its activities in pursuit of Black involvement in the university. One of the most important programs was the counseling and tutoring of students. 143 BETWEEN TIMES A RUSSIAN SPECIALIST personality by Sandra Hytken U of L students have a remark- able grapevine. The news of new teachers is important and it travels fast. Many students choose their courses by the reputation of the teachers and making the right choice can brighten an entire semester, or even a major. Early in the fall of 1970 | heard of an excit- ing new teacher, a specialist in Russian history. This might not have interested some, but | had minored in Rus- sian studies as an undergraduate and my interest and involvement in the subject had continued to grow, in spite of the fact that | had chosen English over history as a course of graduate study. Eventually my curiosity drew me to his lectures, and | began sitting in on his class just to review the subject and get new viewpoints on it. Mr. Gleason, | found, lived up to his repu- tation. He is a remarkably vibrant lecturer and a_profess- ional teacher-scholar. Bill Gleason looks deceptively young for a professor and, al- though he admits to being an “old age” thirty, a look of youth contrasts with his serious de- meanor. He wears with him an air of respect towards teaching, his subject, and his students. And he has a remarkable gift for present- ing a narrative account of history that makes it become alive and important. Gleason’s academic attitudes were formed during his under- graduate years at the University of Michigan where he took his bach- elor and master degrees. He chose his specialty in Russian his- tory late and debated studying law before choosing to take an M.A. in history. After his M.A., he felt he needed to get away from the graduate school routine. Tak- ing a teaching job at a private Eastern prep school, he taught for two years before he was forced to “face myself and realize | wanted to be a scholar of the subject, as well as a teacher.’’ Gleason re- turned to Indiana University to take his doctorate, and he has fin- ished all work on the degree but his dissertation, which he hopes to defend in April. In the course of his studies, Gleason has twice visited Russia to experience first hand the social 145 conditions and the scholarly ma- terials there. With the aid of a Fulbright grant, he also spent a year in Finland at the University of Helsinki gathering research for his dissertation. Most of the material for his dissertation, a study of Rus- sian homefront social conditions during World War I, has never been tapped for historical study. Thus he has had to go to where the documentation is held and translate it in order to complete his research. Gleason chose his specialty, he says, first because of a long abid- ing interest in Russian history generated by the “sputnik era.” Also an evolution in the way to look at history and an infiltration of social science ideas into the discipline made the professional study of Russian history seem to fit the widest range of his natural interests. Like many scholars, his choice of career was also influ- enced by one outstanding man he met as an undergraduate, a pro- fessor at Michigan whc was both an excellent teacher and scholar, “a Renaissance man of sorts.”’ Gleason’s interest in Russia is not ideological or political, but social. He views Russia as an un- derdeveloped country which has faced particular problems and is- sues which are faced by all under- developed nations. The study of Russia can perhaps provide in- sight into problems and condi- tions in the nations of Asia, Africa, and South America. Comparative history, he admits, has its restric- tions. “Indeed, history never re- peats itself.’ But still something must be gained, he claims, “by 146 using the imagination to leap at and explore other countries’ problems.” Communism is not so much a political ideology, says Gleason, as a social situation: “The idea of communism as an insidiously creeping system which infiltrates weak nations is simplistic. It is far more important to understand that most underdeveloped na- tions undergo a series of common social problems for which com- munism always appears as a possi- ble solution.” Gleason is quite happy at U of L, where the school is not so large that students and faculty mem- bers lose their identities. He en- joys the close personal contact that professors and students can have here, a situation which he thinks students at U of L some- times take for granted. Here, he finds classes small enough to al- low discussion sessions and indi- vidual study programs. “Where | went to school, we never had a class of less than several hundred until | reached senior level.” The reaction to Gleason’s cour- ses, he feels, has been good and he attributes the interest to his subject matter and the fact that it is new to most students, thus giv- ing it a certain mystique. But at the same time he admits his con- cern for teaching technique and methods of presenting the mate- rial. “I’m getting bald, gray anda weak heart from some of the an- tics | launch into to get the point across.’ And the point is, says Gleason, to give the students a sense of having a viewpoint. He feels that all history study is at a disadvantage because of the poor way that it is taught at the lower levels. “I urge my students to put themselves into the picture and experience the conditions. Histo- ry cannot be presented as all dry facts. Without a sense of valid subjective coloration, history never comes alive for any student.” How does such a serious young scholar relax? He has the ‘’Ameri- can mania” for sports, especially baseball. “If Louisville had a pro- fessional team, | would sit in the stadium all summer and wait for the games.” His hometown team of Detroit is his favorite and, he admits with a grin, ‘I go to the downtown library to read current news from Russian papers, but | also always sneak a glance at the Detroit paper’s sports section.” Gleason also relaxes with his family — his wife Joyce, who has an M.A. in economics and is fluent in Russian, a perfect hel p- mate in his dissertation study — his son Todd, nine months old, and his two year old daughter Anne who was born in Finland. On conditions in Russia today, Gleason speaks from first hand experience. ‘‘Russian society ac- comodates a large variety of posi- tions, some of which appear con- tradictory. On one hand, there is open and apparent internal free- dom. | was over every inch of Len- ingrad and never felt watched. But at the same time, you are al- ways aware that you must meet a set schedule of check-in points and dates and will be looked for if you don’t.” The Russian people, says Glea- son, do not resent or fear Ameri- cans, but on the contrary are very open and interested in American life. “For the most part, the peo- ple are happy and proud of their country. You see no pockets of poverty or ghettoes. The average Russian’s mentality is remarkably middle class, highly materialistic and moralistic. My wife was nearly ‘tsked’ off the streets of Leningrad by an old lady for wearing a skirt above her knees. But at the same time, open, apparently legal and sanctioned prostitution is prac- ticed throughout the cities, even in the finest hotels.” Gleason finds evidence, howev- er, that certain restrictions still hang heavily over certain groups. The oppression of the intellec- tuals hit home for him in an inter- view he had with two famous Rus- sian historians. “During the inter- view the tables turned on me and the professors began questioning me at great length over basic ma- terials of Russian history that they had never seen. For example, they had never been to the University of Helsinki to see the holdings there. They were hearing of them second hand from me. People who deal in facts — scientists and engineers — travel regularly to other countries to expand their studies, but those who deal with ideas — artists and historians — are not allowed to leave Russia.” We often hear the myth that the Russian system has evolved into “state capitalism,’’ but Gleason says that this is true only in very restricted areas, such as agricul- ture. ‘Peasants are still allowed to have backyard home plots which they can work in their spare time and sell goods from on the small private market. Also, state con- trol of workers has relaxed some- what, adding incentives to in- crease competence. But it is not capitalism, such as Tito’s reforms were. Workers have no control over profits or their wages.” Russia’s social structure is dy- namic and continually changing, much like ours, says Gleason. Her changes are perhaps easier for us to witness objectively, and by studying her evolution and development, we can hopefully acquire a more universal insight into world situations. 147 Moderator: Mapuche: Chilean: Mapuche: Chilean: Mapuche: Chilean: Moderator: Forum on the Mapuche for Francisco Otta Bernardo Berdichewsky We 're all Chileans. But what to do for the Mapuche? An Indian within and without the State. This is the question we’re to look into: What to do with the Mapuche? We begin by asking how he sees you and me: are no Mapuche. Our name mean men of the earth. Before you came, only Mapuche knew land. Teach our tongue, hear our history, then you understand. | applaud your pride, but such a world-view we must designate ethnocentric. We anthropologists study long and hard in digs of your bones and your ancient homes to identify the flute of forgotten songs. We label yours a subculture, but not to offend, for we admire your people, alive or found in shards. What we want is white men gone, a Mapuche Republic with President. Then we return to a crimeless day, for Mapuche more moral than your sermon call for. Ten years I’ve lived at the Indian’s hearth; childless myself, they've grown like my own. At night the family encircles the fire; o that we children were listening there now to tales of Vulture and the copihue flower. | mostly am pleased by the houses you build, but the smoke of our cooking drive us out. The cold come in through your ready-made wall, and we can’t forget from day to day the one key we’re given’s of a set. No smarter, no dumber; no quicker, no slower: aman with a mind and a heart. Start by ietting him choose his way. Don’t push,he’s a mule if you do. And so you'd be, German, Jew or Soviet. It’s been our pleasure at this roundtable talk having you join with us here. Our hope would remain that in days to come we may gather to hear young poets in Mapuche reading their visions and myths to a tune recovered by the scientist’s spade. Edward Oliphant 149 150 Padding anything to make it easier on the mind to keep the real thing out of the crush block passage on the House Senate floors in verse Unamuno justified found it fitting but for none not one of the reasons above o what stoic Spanish tho’t would’ve been his comfort then lined laced with arabesques Moorish words like almohadas on hearing me declare verbiage to be the lot the lonely the only stuff for making song when what he wanted was marrow alittle carne along with the bone just to get free from figuring it out I'd say well waste is the American way cardboard-box a tree save a buck eighty but that won’tdo neither will asylum walls this banging unbruised into devils inside our cells when everywhere it’s plugging up or knocking holes in the Giants’ the Rams’ the Jets’ defenses covering up for the collected poems can’t even copy ux fiat under the stoop leaves twigs hibernating the frogs string straw soon to hatch a singing in the eaves Edward Oliphant Mesa Verde this digger this fitter of artifacts hears tell how hardened hearts charge he’s a worker in a wasted age a rubble-rouser a trenchman of trash piled past to present high who feels inside each heap the tribe forsook reaches down to the clay the layer he’s coined “‘sterile earth” where he loosens his hold when a broken bowl caked with dirt of disposal as if of asudden cries out from a crack: he who made me’s left sought hopefuller fields what’s brought you here to puzzle me my shards in place when the reason he stirred me’s stilled? to this alone he listens responds with a prayerful penitent touch with which like a prodigal returned he’s taken in by a world of eagles ants of walls ladders river sand Edward Oliphant 151 KENTUCKY WOMAN le liberation by Gloria Tellim August 25, 1971 marked the 51st anniversary of women’s suffrage in the United States. In 1970, a year of reactionary rhetoric, the golden event brought out masses of militant feminists in revolution- ary fashion. In lieu of a Bastille, they burned their bras. Lacking a monarchy suitable for the guillo- tine, they settled for seering in- dictments of Norman Mailer and Hugh Hefner. Rallying to a twen- tieth-century parody of the Bourbon battle cry (‘Let them EAT cheesecake!’’), more valiant women’s liberationists staged 152 “strikes for equality” in major cities across the nation. By last summer, it seemed that despite victory in battle, the war was being lost. The Equal Rights Amendment for Women — a leg- islative scheme which had been struggling through congressional skirmishes for nearly 50 years — was their most costly casualty. It suffered a swift, but painful, disembowelment on the Senate floor. As a result, the troops tempered their approach. Instead of parad- ing and propagandizing, feminists struck out at the source of their trouble — the system. They or- ganized a National Women’s Po- FREE OUR SISTERS FREE OURSELVES | litical Caucus by mid-summer. Hundreds of women delegates from the 50 states gathered in Washington, D.C. to hash out their problems at a conference which ambitiously proposed as its goal to end ‘‘racism, sexism, insti- tutional violence and poverty.” They were all there — the lead- ers of the feminist revolt: Gloria Steinem, the super-star of new journalism; Bella Abzug, her less moddish counterpart in congress; Kate Millet, the movement's lead- ing authoress; and Shirley Chis- holm, the Caucus’ living symbol of societal oppression — a black congresswoman. Despite the usual confusion that surfaces in any cross-section- al congregation, the Caucus man- aged to send out a united call to individual participants to set up caucuses in their own states. The appeal was accepted. By the end of September, local-level confer- ences were coordinating wom- en’s groups as diversified in their interests as abortion-reform councils and the DAR. That’s the chronology that led to the Kentucky Women’s Politi- cal Caucus, held last September 18 and 19 at the University of Louisville. Generally ignored by the campus population (male and female), the Caucus nevertheless turned the heads of more than a few election-year candidates. Al- though only one candidate re- sponded by attending the week- end conference, none could neg- lect the fact that over 250 frustrat- ed females (eager to see justice done) were present. A wary politi- cian just doesn’t take a situation like that lightly. After all, if wom- en get mad, who’s going to lick the stamps and answer the telephone? (It was ironically fitting that the Caucus was held on a college campus. Universities have not been known traditionally for their enthusiasm toward women — as students or faculty members. And yet, who ever heard of a college being denied federal funds on the basis of sex discrimination in ad- missions or hiring policies?) Trying to compete with the “Steinem-Greer-Millet’’ mystique that national conferences have projected, the Kentucky Caucus hustled its celebrities on stage to woo the still-unraised consciouses of Bluegrass women. Although a little less glamorous and a lot less radical, the seven-woman panel successfully aired gripes and of- fered advice on party politics, female candidacy, changing social roles and welfare motherhood. Mary Helen Byck and Nelda Barton — national party commit- teewomen and veterans of the establishment — were admon- ished for their naivete and har- assed for their myopia by mem- bers of the audience. Twelfth Ward Alderwoman Lois Morris and Third Ward candidate Gerta Bendl pitched out ideas and warnings for women with political aspirations. Their message? Hang on to your ideals, but fight like a realist. Chloe Gifford, Kentucky’s most venerable clubmistress, spoke out against chauvinism-in-the-dis- guise-of-tokenism like a blue- jeaned, long-haired coed. Despite her gray hair and roller-coaster voice (caucus participants heard it 5 ee - = begin high and booming, then swoop down deep and low as if to pick up any stray members of the audience who might have sunk sleepily into their seats), she add- ed insight and humor to the situation. When Miss Gifford spoke, it was as if the age barrier had been lifted. There seemed to be a sud- den recognition among those congregated in the Lincoln Room (an appropriate setting for a meeting dedicated to emancipa- tion) that sex discrimination is not a malady limited to young, ambi- tious, freedom-seeking women — but a curse to all women everywhere. Rebecca Westerfield was also there. As the only “student” rep- resentative on the caucus’ intro- ductory panel, she reminded the attending women that the four- fold purpose of the meeting, as 153 mentioned above, was indeed still the most important piece of busi- ness to be tackled by the caucus. For Rebecca, the vice president of student government at the University of Kentucky, the cau- cus symbolized unity of all wom- en in Kentucky. She was one of the two delegates from Kentucky to attend the national caucus in Washington, D.C. Of the official panel members, Marty Edwards came closest to capturing the entire audience with her human, unpretentious manner. If she were an evangelist, the audience would have been streaming out the doors, across campus and into the city, declar- ing and spreading the gospel to the people. But she’s no evangelist and no romantic. Marty Edwards spoke to the women of the caucus in realis- tic, workable terms. For example, she’s president of the state Wel- fare Rights Organization in Ken- tucky — and yet, she urged the women seated in front of her to write their congressmen and “‘tell them to vote against Nixon’s fami- ly assistance bill.” It was obvious to anyone there that Mrs. Edwards is not one to tolerate patronizing tokenism. She prefaced her remarks on stage with an apology for being nervous. But it didn’t take her long to get down to business and tell her fellow women just what poverty really means. Those seven speakers make up the pre-arranged panel set up by the caucus conveners. However, when they finished their part of the program, Anne Braden—also a convener and executive director of the Southern Christian Educa- tion Fund — walked calmly up to the stage and spoke softly, but 154 distinctly, into the microphone. “| Wefeared something might be omitted here today,” she began. Mrs. Braden — a long- time sympathiser with the poor and the oppressed — then went on to propose revolution in the true sense of the word as the only solution to sex discrimination ... or any of the other major prob- lems facing the United States to- day — war, poverty, racism. Anne Braden called for a united effort among women to “remake this society.’ She said that the economic structure of the United States necessarily advocates and perpetuates the social evils that exist in all areas of the nation. Therefore, she reasoned, ‘‘we must remake this society.” Not everyone agrees with that theory of eliminating discrimina- tion against women. There are still some politicians who feel that an amendment can bring about equality for the sexes. Three such men are Senators Jacob Javits of New York, Birch Bayh of Indiana and Marlowe Cook of Kentucky. After the Equal Rights Amendment had become hopelessly bogged down with riders and amendments to the amendments to the amendment, the three Senators co-sponsored a substitute amendment. As a re- placement for the original word- ing—“Equality of rights under the law shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or any state on account of sex’”” — they proposed this phraseology which better lends itself to exe- cution by the government and interpretation by the courts: “Neither the United States nor any state shall, on account of sex, deny any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the law.” This revised version seems to be more acceptable to legal techni- cians within the Senate Chambers. Yet there are still hang-ups on other issues. Many congressmen oppose an amendment on the basis that women should be ex- empt from certain responsibilities which have been traditionally limited to men-like military ser- vice, wage-and-hour laws and factory-work standards. Then there have been the usual political attempts to render the amendment repugnant even to its supporters. Senator Howard Bak- er tried this when he amended the amendment with an authori- zation of prayer in schools. Then there was the Ervin Amendment which stated that certain laws could be preserved although they were not equally applied to both men and women — provided that these same laws were intend- ed to ‘enable women to perform their duties as wives and homemakers.” Or consider the Hayden rider — “The amendment should not affect any law which operates to the benefit of women.” Who’s to decide whether it benefits or patronizes? Malesenators, male judges, males .. . The battle goes on. Whether or not the Amendment passes the Senate this year is not the only issue to be considered. If it does then women will still be confront- ed with injustices institutionalized by our modern society, such as the following examples of daily discrimination against women: The Social Security law denies a working woman a 50% additional retirement benefit for her spouse, but grants one to her husband who has paid the same tax. If that doesn’t rile you, con- sider another section of the So- cial Security law which de- nies a working woman’s husband all survivorship benefits unless he can prove dependence on her, while it doesn’t require such proof froma man’s wife. Or there’s the Armed Forces policy which accepts only female high school graduates into _ its volunteer program. Yet __ this standard is not applied to male applicants. And, of course, there’s the su- preme irony of American priori- ties. The social custom, upheld by law which allows a business exec- utive to deduct the costs of a lav- ish lunch and night-on-the-town with an important client, while it denies a working mother ina fam- ily with a combined income of over $6900 a year of the right to deduct expenses for child care during the hours she works. It’s situations like these that have provoked women’s libera- tionists and their less radical sis- ters to unite against oppression. Organized efforts, like the Wom- en's Political Caucus, may be the answer to a century of illegal dis- crimination aimed at more than half of the population of the Unit- ed States. 155 “i will show you fear in a handful of dust”’ he said. and they palmed laughs. so he in cloak and all and eyes of spit that scorched the ground, drove the people up the street and back, and back again, and up, scraping every stone and corner and crack, until their laughing stopped. but he went on for fearless years, collecting every spot and speck that burned beneath his eyes. and with bearded breaths he kept repeating “7 will, i will show you!” until one day, that one day everyone anticipated, he stopped in the square, turning for all to see, and unclenching his fist said, “there!” but they, one by one, all disbelieving, had all moved away, in twos and threes, many months before. p. duncan sterling 157 BETWEEN TIMES 158 PHOTOGRAPHY Registration workers estimate that they have to turn away upwards of 400 students from Bob Ander- son’s photography classes each semester. These classes provide the lucky few with a thorough orientation in the theory and practice of the most popular means of expression since the invention of language. 159 GALLERY A Collection of Prints by Photographers Associated With UL. 161 162 John W. Church | FH mer Cynthia Schell 163 Charlie Westerman 164 Michael Brohm 165 166 Donald R. Anderson Jim Blue 167 168 Jebb Harris Barbara Cheap 169 paki: r pn == agp é 5 es ¥ Steve Croghan Barb Cunningham 172 The Last Day Squating Ezekiel in the desert rewrote the book of the dead and buried it in the sand. Hid his penis with his hand and waited for Zenobia’s dance. Don Receveur 173 174 night fear i heard my meatless bones clunk together saw the ants drink from my eyes like red ponies at brown pools of water and the worms in my belly moved sluggishly delighted. Don Receveur Mussolini’s Mistress The partisans drug them from their get away car, pulling her roughly by the hair. The muscles in her face went slack, mouth open, her mind far away where the tall green grass waved frantically in the absolutely calm and silent air. They patted her breasts and ran their gun-oily hands up between her legs. But even in their nervous laughing they were afraid to do more. They stood the couple side by side and shot them. The American made grease guns made short, professional bursts. They stripped away the torn clothes and roped her ankle to his. They drug the naked bodies through the streets, leaving behind faint slug trails of blood and hair. Finally they hung them in the square, upside down they hung them. The ropes creaking as the bodies slowly turned, her heavy, torn breasts hanging like punctured wineskins. The partisans went home, and drank the cold vino, they grew excited gestured with vagina scented hands and modestly told their wives and. neighbors, that they had saved Italy touched history that day. Don Receveur 175 176 ON THE OTHER SIDE— THERE: IS o01LE HANK SEDGWICK personality by Don Receveur By the time the blue Simca pulled up outside the girls’ dorm, | had been waiting for Hank Sedgwick for ten minutes. Not that it mattered, | had known he would be late. He always is. He kissed Beth, his wife, and the two kids good- bye and then climbed out of the car and came toward me. “Hi, Don, how's _ things going?” “Pretty good, Hank. How about you?” We talked, as we moved into the dorm and headed for his office, the vague chatter that friends go through when they haven’t seen each other for a few days. Something about how much Ernest, his oldest, was learning in school and how the school authorities were trying to puta stop to it. | first met Hank when we were both undergraduates at UL some five years ago. | still remember the first time | saw him. Clutch- ing a bunch of papers and books under one arm, he clumped his way across the lobby of Gardiner Hall. This bluejeans were half- way tucked into black motor- cycle boots, and his brown lea- ther jacket was old and frayed at the wrists. He had a beard. t hen, and his hair was never combed. He made quite a con- trast against the majority of students with their button down collars H.I.S. slacks, Bass moc- casins and Adlers. If | remem- ber correctly, Hank had a fond- ness for white socks with colored bands at the top. None of this was a pose, for his clothes weren't costume, they were sim- ply what he wanted to wear. Pretty unusual in a time when fads had such a powerful grip on the campus. | got to know him because we were taking some classes together, primarily Creative Writing. It took me awhile, may- be because all my collars button- ed down, but | finally figured out how unique he was; in a time when everyone talked a- bout individualism, he really was an individual. He unlocked the door to his office and we went in. It is still pretty sparce, because he hasn’t had it long, a lot of books stuck haphazardly about the room and two posters on the walls. One poster is a posed picture of the group Santana and the other is a close up of Marlon Brando taken from “The Wild One.” Sitting down, he leaned back and put his feet up on his desk. | noticed his dark green slacks and his bright pea green socks. Had | said something, he would have been surprised and a little baffled that | couldn't see the worth of such a fine pair of socks. | ignored them. “Well, what do you want to know?”, he asked. “Tell me a little about grow- ing up in Louisville,” 1 said. Hank was born in Louisville and originally lived with his family in the south end, High- land Park area. In 1952 when he was ten, the family moved to Valley Station, and he ended up going to Valley High School. Valley High School in the late fifties couldn’t have been too stimulating but he had already started to read extensively. First came mysteries, Raymond Chan- dler and Dashiel Hammet, then he started reading some of the Beat literature. By the time he reached his junior year he had read most of Kerouac. He was also beginning to discover poets like Corso and Firlangetti. Even then Hank had a clear picture of the status games that the students around him were playing and he chose not to get involved. He thought they were ail silly and you can be sure they in turn thought him crazy. He didn’t bother to dress the way they did or do the things that were expected of him. “You know, | never went to a dance or a single prom.” He looked pleased. “I dated girls, but it was always to movies and such things. | once went steady with a girl for three months. It was bad news, people kept asking the poor girl why she was going steady with Hank Sedgwick and she didn’t know why.” He started laughing. It sounded like a happy, high- pitched wheeze. “| read a lot, went to movies and | spent a lot of time road racing in a 1953 Ford. A friend of mine had a Ford and we were always racing each other around the _ back roads.” His heroes then were Dean, Brando and Bogart, and like a lot of young men at that time he tried to adapt that tough, loner image to his own life style. By 1960 he had seen ‘Giant’ ten times. Even now he gets a little sentimental when he talks about that movie. After high school, at the ripe age of seventeen years old, Hank joined the army. He still isn’t sure why exactly, all he can come up with now ts that he wanted to get away from 177 178 home. He got away, all the way to Korea. Then he decided he had been a little hasty. “| was pretty patriotic in the army ... for a couple of months. They sent me to Korea and | was Morse Intercept Opera- tor, which is really a radio-type spy. | listened in on the Chinese and North Koreans and copied down code all day. We were sort of an elite group. The army couldn’t replace us, so we stayed drunk all the time, even came to work drunk. | had to stay over there for fifteen months. It was completely shitty, all the time. After awhile nothing seem- ed to matter anymore. Drinking was the only way we had to escape.” Korea made quite an impres- sion on Hank, he was only eighteen then and he saw and went through a lot of unpleasant experiences. Even after he got back to the states, the army didn’t get any better. He was stuck in Texas to wait out his time and he found himself in a_ situation almost as_ ir- rational as Korea. His new com- manding officer took every op- portunity to harrass the men, especially Hank. Hank decided to be as irrational as the army. “They would come in the bar- racks looking for me and | would jump inside my_ wall locker to hide. Once, | even barked like a dog as_ they passed my locker. During my last ten days | had to go see my commanding officer twelve times, and it was all just plain harrassment. | had a friend so disturbed by the harrassing that he stopped sleeping in his bunk and started sleeping on top of the wall lockers. It was all nonsense” he said softly. | could tell the memories were still unpleasant. After he got out of the army he drifted back to Louisville and after awhile, into UL. He became interested in creative writing. He had been writing since the ninth grade, mostly mystery stories. Now the desire to write took precedence over everything else in his life. He became very serious about writing and trying to write well. So serious that he received a full creative writing scholarship. Which was lucky because he was married by then and money was a little scarce. While he was an undergraduate here he won first place in the school’s literary contest three years in a row. He also won third prize in the Southern Literary Festival in Memphis and in 1968 he won second place in the Southeastern division of the Book of the Month Club Writing Contest. As he says, it was nice for the ego, but no money. After graduation he went to work for awhile but very quickly got sick of that. The University of North Carolina offered him a teaching assistantship, so he took it. After spending two years there, he received an MFA in creative writing. “Graduate school is what you make it, you know,” he said, shaking his finger at me, “all what you make it. A lot of it is so much bull-shit, but the discipline and the writing were good for me and | think | learned a lot being Editor of the Greensboro Review.” Now, Hank Sedgwick is the official, one and only creative writing teacher at the Univer- sity of Louisville and with that job go quite a few problems. By nature his classes must be informal but he still must con- trol and channel the students and their work. He can’t very well say he wants three poems and a short play by next class period, since forcing people to write creatively can do more harm that good. However, work must be handed in and graded. “One of the problems with my writing students is that they are really bull-headed about changing their work. They seem to resent the authority they feel | have and they don’t want to believe that | might know a little more about writing than they do. In fact, | am surprised at the strong anti- intellectual feelings that many of the people have, not only to me but to the other teachers as well. Another definite problem is that the students are touchy about their work. They get their feelings hurt if | say something stinks. But if their work is bad | tell them it’s bad. Then they can stop playing games and get down to writing. I’ve surprised quite a few students by giving D’s and F’s, and it looks like I'll be doing it again this semester.”’ The major problem that Hank Sedgwick has with his job is that there is no job security. The Administration is thinking over the idea of hiring a writer in residence to teach creative writing. Unless Hank publishes something in the near future, there is a possibility that he'll be out of a job. A fact that Hank is well aware of. “| think they ought to hire a writer in residence, it’s a good idea, But the trouble, you see, is that many writers won't want to do the work for the money UL is prepared to pay. It takes so much time away from their writing for one thing, and for another, being a creative writing teacher somehow gets you involved in the students’ pro- blems. That can get to be a hassle after awhile. You've got so many other people’s problems on your mind you don’t have any time for your own. | think the faculty is aware of these things and that it why they are taking things slow. “I’ve got a collection of short stories that | am just about to send out. If | can get it published I'll be in a position to be writer in residence. | like the job and | like being close to the students. And, hell, its enough money for me, its more than I’m use to making.” Hank got up, stretched his arms high above his head and yawned. He brushed his un- combed brown hair back with one hand. His eyes looked even redder than usual, he spends so much time reading or working on his own stuff that his eyes always look red, a little bleary. “What don’t you like about UL?”, lLasked. “Well, | think UL should have a literary magazine, its got the Thoroughbred alright, but that’s not a literary maga- zine. It is supposed to be sort of a pictorial study of the total college experience. It should be enjoyed by all the college readers. Students’ __ pictures, football, fraternities, the whole atmosphere of the Thorough- bred just isn’t conducive to the literature. “Also, | don’t think there is enough contemporary fiction being taught. The fiction now pretty well stops at the forties. There is a feeling among the faculty that anything written in the last ten or twenty years is no good. But it is beginning to change. Probably by next year the situation will be better.” “Anything else?” | asked. “I'd like to see more graduate students doing their masters theses in creative writing. And you know, don’t you, that the school won't let me direct them, they say my degree isn’t high enough.” Annoyed, he paced back and forth behind his desk. “What they do is let me do the reading and they just say some- one else is directing them. Which is alright with me, | don’t mind the work, though it is a sack of shit, but just because it is a phony way to do it. At least they let the students do their theses in creative writing.” It was getting late, Hank had a student coming in at five for a conference. He does that with all his creative writing students. | left him getting ready for it. Someone once made the com- ment that Hank is in be- ween the students and the faculty, that he is neither, yet has some of the best qualities of both, But | like to think about it this way. There are other people and there is Hank Sedgwick. You can divide the other people into categories and sub-categories, play around with types and sub-types; but on the other side, there is. still Hank Sedgwick. 179 BETWEEN TIMES 18] CONTINUED 182 183 B U S i N F SS second thoughts by Richard Hytken 184 During the past decade, “con- sumerism” has emerged as a dominant issue in American soc- iety. Within this time, Ralph Nader appeared and mobilized his ‘consumer advocates.” Pos- ing as champions of the common man-consumer’s rights, they have captured the support of the mass media with their charges against various business giants and brought to public attention “management's” violations of consumer’s rights. This cause has a_ universal appeal because, in our capital- istic economy, “consumer” is a role forced on every individual, whether he likes it or not. Further, the democratic aura of protecting “everyman” from economic exploitation has a particular appeal for the liberal and_ idealistic student. As a result, the movement has re- cruited much of the fresh talent from top business and law schools and created a group of activists who compensate for their lack of practical business experience by their seriousness and sense of ‘‘mission.”’ The basic concept behind the consumer advocates’ position is that the consumer’s pur- chasing power entitles him to the right to voice, test ana en- force his opinions on business management. ‘Business’ is as- sumed to be an autonomous giant with no regard for the consumer. Consequently, con- sumer supervision of the giant’s actions are necessary and justi- fied. Advocates’ charges against big business center on three major areas of consumer mistreatment. First, and foremost, many cor- porations are charged with pro- ducing and promoting shoddy merchandise merchandise with only enough quality and dura- bility to make it saleable. In extreme cases, such goods not only deny the purchaser his money’s worth, but can endanger his life. The advocates have tested and published the results of their tests on such goods in Consumer Reports, their official house organ, and, as a result, have brought about several no- table victories in this area. Common examples are not only the removal of the Corvair from the market (Nader’s most per- sonal victory), but the regulations established to control flammable fabrics, and the regulations placed on the composition of toys to insure against toxic lacquers and other dangerous contents. Secondly, advocates charge that those businesses providing services for the consumer, such as credit and maintenance, often use these services to cheat con- sumers. Accounting errors, in- correctly computed interest rates and service charges, and com- plicated payment schedules often make charge accounts more of a nuisance than a service to con- sumers. In the area of maintenance, exorbitant charges for the time and services of repairmen, who often are not trained to do a professional job, make sucr ser- vices an expensive and aggra- vating “convenience.” Warran- ties on goods often are totally ineffectual for the consumer. Many times they are either based on a carefully computed time length, so that they expire before any trouble can appear as a result of wear, or they cover only parts and require that the goods be returned to the manu- facturer, at the purchaser’s ex- pense, for repair. For example, Baldwin Grand Pianos are cover- ed for ten years by a warranty which requires that, in order to receive the guaranteed ser- vice, the purchaser must return the piano to Baldwin's factory and pay all transportation costs. The third charge levelled by the advocates is aimed at de- ceptive and erroneous adver- tising. In their desire to lure consumers into purchasing their products, ‘management’ makes claims for these products which are invalid, sometimes totally untrue. Common examples of deceptive advertising uncovered by the advocates include break- fast cereals, which were forced to retract their “high nutrient” claims; Excedrin, whose man- agement was forced to admit the product was only aspirin; and Xerex motor additive, which was proven to have no real effect on engine performance. Such improvement aimed at in advertising has been assisted by the courts which have abandoned “cease and desist” orders against advertising offenders in favor of verdicts requiring that all future advertising planned by the offender be reviewed by the court. To control and eliminate these injustices, the advocates have mobilized behind a plan devised by Nader. Nader's plan operates on the premise that it is govern- ment’s duty to police the market economy. Much of the machinery required to administer this con- trol already exists within the federal governmental structure. Advocates insist that these agen- cies must now be activated and given adequate money and per- sonnel to meet the existing pro- blem. State and local levels need more regulatory agencies, and effective ones, as opposed to the powerless tokens to the pro- blem created by politicians to get publicity as we have in Louisville. Two innovations are proposed under Nader’s plan. The first would be the organization of some Independent Consummer’s Unions at the local level which would be composed of concerned citizens who would voluntarily maintain a surveilance on the 185 marketplace, referring com- plaints and participating in the actions of government agencies. The second new idea calls for the “popularization” of big business. This would be brought about by first, requiring busi- nesses to make public their corporate income tax returns, and second, forcing corporations to include public representatives on their corporate boards. The advocates depict them- selves as bucking a powerful opponent. The money of big business, they charge, has such a foothold in government, that we are really now experiencing a form of “corporate socialism’ where corporation management uses government power to pro- tect it. This is the side of the problem the college student is undoubted- ly most familiar with as con- sumerism continues to make gains in the marketplace with triumphs and disclosures herald- ed widely by mass media. Nader has become a popular hero on college campuses as evidenced by a poll taken in the fall of 1971 by Newsweek which re- vealed him to be the number one “Most Admired Living American” in the minds of most of today’s students. Until recently, management has engaged its efforts in a lobbying battle against consumer legislation at all levels. Manage- ment’s replies to Nader have been ignored, or rejected as evasive by students. But some of the issues management has raised in defense of its position raise important considerations about the future of our economy. Every student planning to enter business must come to terms with both sides of this contro- versy if he intends to assume a responsible position in business. Business claims that “con- sumerism” is the real threat to the market economy. They are 186 adamant that if the demands of Nader and his followers are met, the result will be social- ism. Consumer involvement and interference in business would not only paralyze a competitive market, but it would strip from business the last vestiges of privacy it still has. Big business operates from the premise that there is no real problem. They feel that the whole issue of “consumerism” has mushroomed far beyond its real importance. Business feels that it is the current victim of public paranoia. First, business claims, it is not true that the public is intentionally defrauded by business. It is just that busi- ness impersonality has increased, breaking down the communica- tion between comsumer and management. This may be harm- ful, they admit, but at the same time they emphasize that busi- ness is necessarily large and complex because of vast con- sumer demands. We have gone from the general store to Wool- co; it may be regrettable, but it is irreversable. The competitive market com- mands that business operate on a profit margin, says manage- ment, and many of the reforms and controls consumer advocates demand will only increase the cost of goods for everyone. Further, business emphasizes the “newness” of the problem. The ultimate test of goods and services, management says, lies with the consumers. Until re- cently, public indifference has been so great that complaints have not been brought to man- agement’s attention. Time is needed to assess the reality of consumer claims and decide upon the best way to approach them. Business is particularly op- posed to Nader’s innovations. “Popularizing’”’ corporations they interpret as an_ infringement of basic free enterprise rights. Under Nader’s local-federal Con- sumer’s Uniton plan, business claims that it would be popu- larly policed by what is com- parable to a system of “con- sumer soviets.”” The results of such a plan could only be an increase in government interference, and its usual ac- companying complications, red tape and wasted time. Con- sumer’s agencies, business pro- poses, is an impractical idea. Not only is it potentially ex- pensive and complex, it is too amorphous to be organized. Many of the controls on the quality of merchandise and ser- vice, business replies, are im- practical because most of the standards the advocates push for cannot be scientifically control- led. In big corporations with assembly lines processing thou- sands, even millions of items per day, odds become such that attempts to totally control error are not feasible. At this time, the bout between “consumerism” and “manage- ment” stands in apparent dead- lock, each side trying to shout down the other,making it diffi- cult for the student to evaluate the issues objectively. This is further confused by the rhetoric employed by both sides to subtly represent the other as a com- munist conspiracy against our economy and government. Con- sumer bureaus are _ labelled “cadres” and “soviets’’ by man- agement. Advocates, on the other hand, refer to manage- ment’s heavyhanded lobbying tactics as ‘‘dictatorial’’ and label politicians who interfere in con- sumer’s legislative proposals “commissars.” They both sling the charge of “socialism’’ at one another as ifit were the ultimate evil. All of this ver- bage must be cleared away before the problem can be ra- tionally considered. Consumerism has made gains in the past decade which can- not be ignored. Often justice has appeared to be on the advocate’s side as they have revealed the inherent danger or deception in many common products. This seems _particul- arly true after the events of this last summer when a number of commonly-consumed food products were recalled and charged with being potentially poisonous. Such foods as “Camp- bell’s’ soups, tuna fish and sal- mon touch nearly everyone in this country and, as a result, some of the dangers advocates have been harping on for a long time hit home for a great number of people. Consumer education has emer- ged as one of the main achieve- ments of the movement. Whether or not they endorse the advo- cate’s reform proposals, most consumers have been shaken from their customary indiffer- ence and can now distinguish values from sell jobs. But the more radical approach taken by the advocates must be weighed carefully before action is taken. First, the reality of the entire issue must be deter- mined. How much of it is publicity and how much re- wresents a real threat to the consumer? Business defends it- self against its alledged sins by claiming that numerically its errors have been few when compared with the vast number of consumer items which pass through the market daily. But this theory of numbers can be invoked by the other side to ask now many victims or po- tential victims have been threat- ened by these “mistakes.” Second, it must be asked whether or not the problem justifies the creation of auto- nomous check and balance agen- cies to assist the existing govern- mental structure. There is great danger in such parallel agencies, not only in confusion they may cause, but because they could perhaps be mobilized and used for ulterior purposes, such as grass roots political structure. This brings into question the real intentions of the advocates and their leader. Ralph Nader has already been mentioned as a possible presidential candi- date, a proposal which does not sound half bad until one takes a good long look at his past record. Increasingly, his actions have assumed the char- acteristics of a personal vendetta against a select number of busi- ness giants and_ particularly, General Motors. The real concern of the average consumer remains in his marketplace with the goods he most often purchases — food, clothing and other com- modities. But Nader has con- tinually ignored this level and focused his energies along a singular pattern. Would a Presi- dent Nader exploit his local unions, then fail to listen to their problems? Another major consideration is where does the obligation of government lie? Should _ it operate in the interest of a healthy economy and protect business interests, or should it protect the true ends of the market economy, consumer satis- faction? This brings to mind the greatest issue of all — do these two interdependent and vital elements of our economy really have to be at odds? When one projects the im- plications of creating distrust and antagonism between the con- suming public and the manage- ment of the corporations which provide it with its goods, one can only envision economic paral- ysis, even economic civil war. This question is the largest one facing those of us who propose to enter business today and whether or not we assume a responsible, moral position and act accordingly to restore econo- mic harmony could have grave consequences for our nation. i87 Even though you're not here you affect me in ways that have a distinct clarity of pitch and a pungent fragrance. You’re gone, but you lean toward me in ways that smell of nutmeg and thyme, can hear the sound of your sensitive face even now. You are not here, this is certain, but oh the mystery of your effects on me— the distinct clarity of pitch and the pungent fragrance. | don’t know how but your thyme heals all my sufferings and your music reduces my mockery of my own grief to akind of gentle laughter. Cathy Suevo 189 FOOTBALL 1971 The season neared with expectation. Having coached UL into its first bowl game in history the year before, Lee Corso was grooming a team picked by the Missouri Valley Conference coaches to repeat as champions. SCOREBOARD UL Vanderbilt 0 Drake 7 Dayton 41 Memphis State 26 North Texas 17 Wichita State 21 Tampa 21 Tulsa 17 Southern Illinois 24 Cincinnati 16 (Overall: 6-3-1; MVC: 3-2-0) 14 19 — piasesiien tell 2 cc eRe oRNCINRRINT AE 0 Beet et J eR ET US tS - Spex Gina aD Se Down to Vandy to meet a member of the powerful SEC, we ran them all over the field. But our own fumbles and missed field goals kept us from crossing the line. Still, the power we showed promised good things for the future. 192 193 And then we met Drake. A mistake. But the ineffective offense suddenly turned effective when we met Dayton on our home grounds and a little 5’5” hurricane called Howard Stevens burst out, leaving empty-handed opponents strewn all over the field. Then on to Memphis to meet a power bent on revenge for their debacle at UL the previous year. Stevens, with strong help from teammates like Larry Griffin, continued to blaze a trail that appeared to be heading tor California. 197 198 And then down to North Texas and it looked like we would never get back up. California sud- denly appeared about as close as the nearest covered wagon. Homecoming, we beat a team that had already suffered a plane crash. America’s fastest i a “ands rd mad =) usville 199 But then we took Tampa into our hands and strangled it between a great offense and a deadly defense. That was just a warm-up for Tulsa. 200 Entering the game with the nation’s eighth best passer, Todd Starks, Tulsa’s erstwhile Hurricanes left with only 73 additional yards passing. 202 202 eon Corso called it “the finest game we’ve played since I’ve been the coach at UL.” 204 206 Back home to take on Southern Illinois. How- ard Stevens broke Lenny Lyles’ single game and season rushing records with 260 yards. He eft the SIU players clutching, groping, and griping — and then left Fairgrounds Stadium to a standing ovation. We finished the season with a tough afternoon against Cincinnati that left us finally with a defeat but the good feeling of having used everything. Coach Corso, after seeing a last-minute drive just fail, summed it up, “We came in smokin’ in September and we went out smokin’ today.“ 210 HELLO SUNSHINE!! ... and suddenly out of nowhere, it came — Bigger than life itself! To become a part of my very being. | fought it for awhile — But, it being stronger than |, won, and in its winning, | gladly learned to leave no song un-sung no feeling un-felt And no bell un-rung ... by me By me! Me who wanted to die and who was indeed, thot to be dead By me, who was even afraid to see the death (or was it life) that would set me free. Yes, | had learned to love and most of all, to be loved ... and even to live | learned to give with want for naught else ‘cept this one thing; The greatest pleasure that living can bring; Twas death | clutched, not life And, life for which | hundgered and feared, Not death, And e’n tho’ he is gone, and things are not quite the same; room in my heart still remains ... to grow, to give to love and yes! Even to live... Bettye O. Adams As Observed by the Unbound It is a Natural Fact that the traditional Chinese Woman Walks in a manner Inferior to that of the Chinese Man. She is Forgiven however by virtue of the Pleasing Smallness of her feet. The Workmen on Thayer Street and Me. | wear my bosoms on either side of my head when | walk by them and they gape, amazed. | wear my cunt on my head. They love to come see. come see see me come see. Jessica Murray 211 Raku means lucky. The process of making “Raku” pottery originated in Japan for the tea ceremony. The Japanese would make a lot of dishes and use only the best. The objects are placed in a heat source which is al- ready hot, then removed and placed in a garbage can full of leaves and hay or sawdust. The piece is finished by dipping it into cooling water. The entire process is completed in 15 mi nutes. These pages show Tom Marsh’s ceramics class practicing the ancient art. 213 214 THREE POEMS By DC Berry To Bed With My Eyes for William Matthews Translating German | hurt my eyes in the library. After stumbling home at midnight | put on your poems instead of some sauve, salt water, or wax from the Super-X Drugs. Though | did not look up from reading for forty minutes, | knew if | wanted to | could have seen into the dark morning as clearly as into the new empty Mason jar at noon. | went to bed with my eyes closing as confidently as light bulbs going out in the dark, nor did | fear smothering in sounds dropping from the faucet. Tomorrow | would grope like a Hun in my library cell, but tonight shine like a perfect glow worm. 219 220 Rain on the Tennessee Tundra These kind of days it comes to the tundra, this heavy face of a wet Victorian landscape from a Thomas Hardy novel— funky if you please this membrane separating us from the World. Oh you'll smell to stay in it, and we stay in it. Ah Jesus be a pal please and come turn the page; it’s so wet we are afraid we'll tear it if we do, and you know best how easily the blessed word rips, yeah Jesus? besides there might be blood in the book, and this rain’s all we can hold up under today, the idea sticking to us like a wet winding sheet. At the Corner of Sunset and Neon It's a June evening Jesus and the lizards kitty eats are trilling on broken forelegs and racing at cracks in the concrete almost reaching the asphalt. There’s no room Jesus, even the cracks are filled and there’s seldom a wedge of cheese left from the sun in a crack full of filth, and should you come back we'll not spread-eagle you again much less find a three-day room as things are bearing down Lord. Dump you in the alley but wouldn't your ribs crack in the jaws of the rats? So go by Jesus, but be pleased to give the Utilities Board grace enough to flick on the moon for those of us at the curb. 221 EVERY MAN IS A PRODUCT OF HIS CULTURE ritsch by Richard Layman An art form necessarily involves two participants: one who creates (the act of bringing a subjective dis- position to bear upon a_ certain material, according to Jose Ortega y Gasset), and one who views the crea- tion. It seems a logical step to assume that the viewer gives significant indi- cation of his own “subjective dispo- sition” in his choice of the creative arts he enjoys. We notice that various periods in our development as a culture can be marked with distinctive tastes. Fash- ion of clothing and styles of automo- biles are manifestations of this phe- nomenon. Under this assumption, the contrast between two styles of popular music and the audiences that made them popular is undertaken to prove that youth culture of the 1950's and 1960's not only is pop music, but that pop music is youth culture, just as language is culture, and our work habits are culture. Our mass personalities are revealed in our actions, allowing us to see them, if only we look. Rather than attempt to deal with the large number of musicians who prospered during these two periods, the purposes of simple analysis can be better served in the treatment of two specific artists, clearly exem- plary participants in their art. They are Chuck Berry, who was. first popularized by Alan Freed’s radio play of ‘“Mabelline’’ in 1955, and the Rolling Stones, whose first bit of popularity came in 1963 through re- cording of songs largely written by Chuck Berry. These two figures are chosen because it is felt that they best exemplify the music in its purest form during their respective periods, and because their unique development was so influential as to clearly estab- lish them as focal points. Rock ‘n Roll music has no color. Its roots are as much in white coun- try music — Jerry Lee Lewis, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins — as in rhythm and blues — Ike Turner, Muddy Wa- ters, Sonny Terry. ‘You often didn’t know if it was black or white,’’ says Michael Lydon, “‘it just had to have a beat so you could dance to it.’’ Nei- ther is color a discernable factor in the most popular music of Chuck Berry, There is definitely a constant perspective, but the color of the anecdotal personnae are not only in- discernable, but clearly irrelevant. The music of the Rolling Stones not only defies coloration, but, one guesses, would be contemptable of the attempt. It is so far removed from this concept, as to allow them to claim to universality in this respect. Both Chuck Berry and the Stones are selected because of the magni- tude of their influence. Both write their own material, for the most part. Elvis is the single most popular figure in the 1950's, but he didn’t write a single one of his hits — Berry wrote most all of his. Though Berry's popularity was considerably less than that of Elvis, his influence was signifi- cantly greater. He is generally ac- claimed by Nik Cohn in Rock From the Beginning, ‘‘as possibly the finest of all rockers, and he’s easily my own favorite pop writer.” The Rolling Stones represented 1960's pop music in a completely uncompromising way. The Beatles were more popular, but somehow they were always too well thought of by the older folks. The Stones’ influ- ence ran even to the mode of dress they popularized, i.e. wear what you like no matter how far out — no suits, but costumes. You can bet that every rock personality of any stature is aware of what the Stones are doing, because Mick Jagger — lead singer and personification of the Stones — is a more successful sexual image than Elvis ever was, and the rest of the group, behind their figurehead, exhibit a personality that is at once cool and nervous, involved and bored, serious and camp, adding up to the most potent stage presentation ever witnessed by Rock fans. Both Chuck Berry and the Stones appealed to youth almost exclusive- ly. Elvis copped out, as did the Bea- tles to some extent. Both Elvis and the Beatles were marginally accepted by the music establishment in what seemed to be a compromise move. Elvis was a “good boy off stage; if you didn’t look below his shoulders his songs weren't harmful. J. P. Mor- gan sang a Beatles tune on national television. Neither Berry nor the Stones received this attention from the oldsters. They played the youth anthem consistently. Finally, Berry and the Stones were chosen as exemplars of their periods because of the amount of popularity they amassed. They were both among the front runners in the record charts; both have numerous gold rec- ords to their credit; and both com- mand attention, because, if nothing else, they are appreciated by a lot of people. Chuck Berry's “songs were hymns 223 to a generation; he was a black poet singing the praises of being free, black white, and under twenty- one,” according to Cohn. He writes further that Berry's music is about the “teen dream myth that’s at the heart of all pop.” He was a beautician- guitarist, who in 1955 made ‘Mabel- line’’ — a song about a ““V-8 Ford’s”’ chase of a “Coupe De Ville’ — an instant legend. His music is happy, even joyful. It has about it an excite- ment that undeniably indicates a change, It heralds the rise of a music for the young, who until now had to be satisfied with Perry Como and Patti Page. It was a new music to be sure — which reflected the youth culture, There was rebellion in Berry's mu- sic, if it was restrained by today’s standards. ‘‘Too Much Monkey Busi- ness” protested: Same thing every day, Getin’ up, goin’ to school, No use in me complainin’ My objection’s overruled! Too much monkey business For me to be involved in. This must have come as quite a shock to the parent who had never had the opportunity to go to school. The mu- sic establishment burned to hear Roll over Beethoven Dig these Rhythm ‘n Blues. But the demand for recognition was made loudly. The music demanded that it be heard and felt, as well as that the urge to dance remain unre- stricted. To dance Rock ‘n Roll was itself rebellious. It was thought dirty and unrefined. But Berry's music was 224 played to be danced to, and the mu- sic wasn’t denied. The dance is emphasized in Ber- ry’s music both by the driving, con- sistent beat, and by the lyric. He wrote to a generation that was ‘‘ree- lin’ and rockin’, rollin’ till the break of dawn. They not only demanded their right to dance, but derided the non-dancer: | caught the rollin’ arthritis Sitting down at a rhythm review. The ability to dance was something to be proud of. Through the dance, the audience participated in the ac- tion of the performance. The license of the performer to public wildness was shared by the audience. The sto- ry of the man too old to dance is an amusing one, indicating the pride as- sociated with the art: Casey is an old man Who wants to be a teen, He goes to all the dances and they call him cha-cha king. He cha-chas When the band is playing Rock ‘n Roll; He tries to keep in time But the rhythm leaves him cold. Because he’s too pooped to pop. Dance gave the teen something of his own to be proud of. It couldn’t be imitated by parents. The rebellion and emphasis on dance were, however, always em- phasized as very “now” ingredients of the culture. There always seemed to be a distant intention to settle down someday, to marry and be re- spectable, even if the record player weren't ever retired. The 1950's rockers were a mannerly lot after the dance. Their time was largely oc- cupied with finding a girl to marry. They thought of jobs and buying cars and living in town. But these were long-range goals. For the present it was “‘Give me some of that Rock ‘n Roll music.”’ And that Rock ‘n Roll music was about love and sex: | got a lump in my throat When | saw her comin’ down the aisle. | got the wiggles in my knees When she looked at me and sweetly smiled. Meanwhile | was thinkin’ She’s in the mood | needn't break it | got a chance | ought to take it If she will dance We can make it C'mon Queenie Let’s shake it. The sex was there, but seldom bla- tant. Mostly, it was about more or less innocent love matters: As | got on a city bus And found a vacant seat | thought | saw my future bride Walkin’ down the street. The teen was sex conscious, but he realized it was unacceptable to re- veal this consciousness, except in its most innocent forms. His ideas of sex were channeled toward marriage. He snickered blushingly at implica- tions of other sexual activity. Sex was not expressed as the foremost inter- est of the 1950's teen; stature was. No one sings the glory of the car like Chuck Berry: | bought a brand new Air mobile, It was custom made It was flight De Ville With a powerful motor, Hide away wings, Push in on the button You can hear her sing— You can’t catch me. It was the time of the customized car — the shinier and wilder and faster the better. Along with the car went emphasis on money: | caught a loaded taxi Paid up everybody’s tab Slipped a twenty dollar bill Told him catch that yellow cab. The Berry-teen wanted material ob- jects his parents hadn’t dreamed of. He saw himself with money to burn on cars and girls, with enough left over to buy whatever services he needed. The spendthrifts in Berry's songs are easily and consistently identifia- ble as to social class and age. They are middle class — enough money to buy a car, but they still have to work — and they are in high school and anxious to get out: Soon as 3 o'clock rolls around You finally lay your burden down Close up your book, get out of your seat Down the hall and into the street Up the corner and ‘round the bend Right to the juke joint you go in. These students have a place to go. They don’t stand on street corners causing trouble. They have the money to play the juke box and buy cokes. They don’t drop out of school, even though they might like to; they are not allowed. The music of the juke box was dis- tinctive. It was not relaxed like Como; or passionate like Tony Ben- nett. It was driving, feeling, moving, anxious, joyful, and loud. Its form was simple. It was usually in tradi- tional blues form; syncopated, with the second and fourth beats of the measure emphasized. Let me hear some of that Rock ‘n Roll music Any old way you choose it; I’s got a back beat you can’t lose it Any old time you use it. It’s gotta be Rock ‘n Roll music, If you want to dance with me. Rock is to be felt: Rock Rock Rock ‘n Roll, Feeling is there body ‘n soul. And it was felt. And the lyrics contributed to the feeling. The lyrics are important to the Berry tune. They are clearly enunciated and they tell a story. Ber- ry made the Rock ‘n Roll lyric idi- omatic, it has been said. His use of words like “botheration’’ “coolera- tor’? and ‘‘motivatin” give his lyrics a personality that defies boredom. He is a superb story teller. The Rolling Stones came to popularity in 1963. Their material was heavily influenced by Chuck Berry, but their image was not. They dressed differently than other bands. They might look dirty or disheveled, they might wear pieces of traditional uniforms, or they might wear tee- shirts. Their hair was long, and un- combed (unlike the Beatles). They 225 226 gave the audience a show, not only of music, but of sexuality to an extent that Elvis had never thought of ap- proaching. They acted mean — as they presumably were. The Stones were, in short, everything a parent would not like his child to be. They were also second only to the Beatles in popularity. Their music was louder than Berry’s and wilder. It was a di- rect reaction to the 1960's. It is a cliche to talk about the rebel- lion of the Stones. One has only to look at a picture of them to see it. The rebellion was complete. It involved clothing, philosophy, and music. The clothing was wilder, the philosophy was more radical, and the music was louder and meaner. The rebellion was not in the form of leftist politics, but went a step further to no politics — not out of apathy, but out of dis- gust with the system. ‘‘What does Vi- etnam have to do with me?” asked Keith Richard (lead guitar) in News- week, “They fight, they don’t fight — | don’t care.” Their music indicts a life style as it creates a new one. ‘Get Off My Cloud” is about a man who lives on the 99th floor of a building, refusing to turn down his loud music, and resisting the efforts of others to make him; “Don’t hang around now ‘cause two’s a crowd Get off my cloud.” The Stones are as different from Berry as their audiences are from those of the 1950's. They don’t ask anything — they demand what they want. The social conventions which Ber- ry left unchallenged are violently at- tacked by the Stones. Marriage is at- tacked in ‘‘Sittin’ on a Fence,” child rearing methods in “19th Nervous Breakdown,”’ and the mass media in “Satisfaction.” The Stones represent the beginning of a new system of val- ues in which nothing is sacred; the audience is confronted — made to feel. Sexual conventions are attacked most avidly. They are destroyed in three ways: 1) by the stage perform- ance; 2) by the lyric content of the songs; 3) by the imagination of the audience. Saturday Review says, “Jagger, a lascivious scaly, is the prototypical sex symbol of Rock.” Songs like “Let’s Spend the Night Together,” ‘Stray Cat Blues,’’ and “Live With Me” clearly state a sexual philosophy that would have been thought outrageous in the 1950's (by many in the 1960's). The audience is given a chance to get in on the act. “Dirty lyrics are sometimes hard to pinpoint. It seems like the harder they are to understand, the dirtier you can bet they are,’’ said Newsweek in 1965. The Stones are, many claim, an act built on sexuality combined with anger. What one does not find in the Stones music is as interesting as the actual content. There is hardly any mention of cars — which Berry was so obsessed with — or money, or material objects of any kind. The Stones seem more interested in ab- stract values. Their goal is not ‘‘settle down and get a little job,” but to get some ‘satisfaction.’ They had learned by the mid-1960’s that a job was not in itself a realization of a goal. Money is not a cure-all for the Stones. Accordingly, they do not share Berry’s desire to integrate into the so- cial system. The Stones despise the social system and many of the people in it. They are rather clear about that. If anything, there seems to be an at- traction to what might be called low- er class life styles in ‘“‘Honkey Tonk Women,” ‘‘Factory Girl,”’ and ‘‘Salt of the Earth.’ The Stones do not look to the future, but to the present, with hedonistic intensity. Tomorrow will take care of itself. The perspective of the Stones is difficult to pinpoint. They seem to be under thirty, and they seem to be un- married, and they are disenchanted with what their society has to offer, but they cannot be as specifically pinpointed as the personna in Berry's tunes. The Stones speak from a more nearly integrated culture, in which education, monetary accumulation, and jobs are less easily discerned than in the 1950's, when class lines were more strictly drawn, since mass communication and synthetics had not yet brought education and basic material objects into the reach of everyone. The form of the Stones’ music is basically the same as Berry's. The Stones rely on a simple form, often blues, with a predominate rhythm. The backbeat has not lost its place, but it is often disguised. The simplici- ty of Berry’s arrangements is gone. Substituted are bigger instrumenta- tion and more elaborate arrange- ments — but not too big or too elabo- rate. The music of the Stones some- times relies on effects produced in a recording studio — and always on volume, but that low-down quality is never lost. Berry was loud; the Stones are louder. The louder the music the harder it is to ignore. Lyrics are not a dominant part of the music of the 1960's. They are often not distinguishable at all. Hard- ly ever can one hear the entire lyrics of a song without concentrated ef- fort, but it doesn’t matter. The lyrics are subordinate. What does matter is feeling, and ‘‘a music that must rely on lyrics for feeling isn’t worth the time anyway, the Rock fans seemed to think, disregarding Folk music for the moment. The 1960's became an age of festivals. Dancing died out in the 1960's. The audiences got bigger, and it became unhip to dance. The emphasis was on listening, as Rock ‘n Roll had established itself as an art form worthy of a concert status. And so it was given a concert status. The thought of the Stones in “‘concert”’ ts a little ridiculous, and so were Stones’ concerts. In 1965 police called off a Stones’ concert because people were hurling things at the stage. In 1970 four people were killed at a Stones’ concert. Dancing did not mark the ultimate in audience participation, as the “concert” took on new proportions. That contrasts can be made is in- teresting but contrasts in themselves are not fruitful. Reasons for these contrasts in relation to different fac- tors in the cultural composit of the different periods are of more substance. Chuck Berry was an immediate product of his culture, and his popularity stemmed from his ability - to transform his music to reflect and appeal to that culture. The same is true of the Stones and any other art- ist. The popularity of an art form is directly proportional to its relevance to its audience. We should, there- fore, be able to analyze the populari- ty of Berry and the Stones in conjunc- 227 tion with the already discussed char- acterization of their music, and come up with a view of the audiences, and reasons for their musical tastes. Berry’s audience was born in the late 30's and early 40's. They lived through a world war and the eco- nomic depression that went with it. Their parents had lived through the depression in the early 1930's and had an appreciation of the dollar which is hardly familiar to those of us who were born later. They lived through a time when one’s main en- ergy had to be placed on the primary social needs — a home, food, job security. There were strict class dis- tinctions between the laborer and the employer, but Marx would never have dreamed them so vulnerable. A man could move up if he had the skill, will, and perseverance. Automobiles were coming into common usage, bringing with them the ability to travel from town to town and the ability to disguise the class of its driver. The car was the great equalizer. Emphasis began to be placed on education. Jobs were getting to be specialized, and one could foresee the day when a man without a high school diploma was sunk. The radio was rapidly becoming the social center of the home, bring- ing with it a sense of belonging to a community — even a nation. Politically, people were still quite nationalistic. Nothing brings out na- tionalism like opposition to a hateful enemy, i.e. the Nazis. The children of the 40's were born into prosperity, but instilled with their parent's sense of hard work and don’t waste. They were constantly 228 pressed with the need for an educa- tion. They were raised during a time when material objects such as cars and fancy clothes were fast becom- ing economically feasible commodi- ties for the average citizen. They were faced with radio, but not yet television, as a source of sophistica- tion and information about the world around them, and they were to see a new red scare in the 1950's to prop- erly temper their ambitions toward radical thought or action. Upward social mobility above all was stressed, Parents saw the chance for their children to move up the lad- der from labor to management, a chance for them to use their brain instead of their hands, a chance for them to be looked up to and respect- ed in the community. Berry sang, I'm so glad I'm living in the U.S.A. Anything you want they got it right here in the U.S.A, The Stones’ audience experienced different concepts and events. They were born after World War Il. The economy was a booming one. The U.S. had won another war and set- tled into domestic life. Their parents began to see that a high school edu- cation was not enough. If a man was to do well in life he needed a college education. Money was available to middle class members to send their children to the university. There was less of a tendency to hold on to money for use in a crisis. Credit buying became the trend, bringing with it a flood of luxury items the middle class had never known before. Instead of one car, in a middle class family there well might be two. A family could now dress itself and house itself in such a man- ner as to belie its income. The children were pampered. They were never more than a long distance phone call home from security. They had time to play and think in college. They were a more sophisticated youth by virtue of their TV education. They were the first generation ex- posed to a massive assault by the mass media. National issues were familiar as were international issues. They saw the development of a nu- clear capability by the U.S. — a nu- clear capability of destroying the world in less than one hour. They saw men orbiting the earth in space- ships, while they heard of children starving in Africa. They were the most “aware” generation ever. They were urged to individualism in the university and in the press. The political climate was not as conserva- tive as it had been in the early 50's. They were exposed to arguments clearly challenging religious authori- ties. They were, in a word, a genera- tion faced with doubt — about the certainty of tomorrow and about ey- ery aspect of tradition. Always lingering was the knowl- edge that in Jagger’s words. “War, children, is just a shot away” and the frustrated realization that “peace, children, is just a kiss away.’’ So how does this relate culture to music? The correlation is nearly ab- solute. Berry never mentioned col- lege in his lyrics; the 1950's middle- class youth didn’t need it. The car was idolized; the 1950's middle class youth dreamed of owning one. TV was not mentioned; it was just com- ing into existence. Political discon- tent wasn’t fostered; McCarthyites would have had the dissident in jail for being a Communist. Upward so- cial mobility was stressed; the value system centered around status. Per- sonal philosophy was subordinate to tradition — upward mobility didn’t come by breaking tradition. The mu- sic was youth oriented, fulfilling a gap between Walt Disney and Eddie Fish- er. The lyrics related a story instead of a philosophy, because stories are most interesting and more fun, and the purpose of materialism and up- ward social mobility is fun. The dance was stressed; it fulfilled a need for physical involvement and release of energy left by the diminution of physical work. The dance also took the form of just the right amount of rebellion, a little suggestive, a little unorthodox, a little criticized by the establishment. The Stones don’t glorify material objects; increased education has al- lowed an abstract value system to re- place a material one. Sexuality is greatly in evidence; as the individual is given a chance to prosper, he de- mands a right to control his own body and, as religious restraints are challenged and removed by appeals to rationality, no institution remains with a real authority to limit sexuality. No perspective is recognizable; the expansion of the middle class, and the disappearance of clear class lines has made identification easier for the audience. Anecdotal lyrics are re- placed by subordinate abstract lyrics, because the music comes into its own as an art form, worthy of con- cert attention, free of the need for an amusing story line to support it. Long range goals are indiscernable, be- cause the days of status seeking and upward social mobility emphasis are gone; little is to be gained by more money, ‘‘What counts is now; so- cial awareness has instigated a sense of urgency. There is independence from social norms, because the use of social norms is no longer benefi- cial; a sufficient economic status is assured, and social status within the subculture related to a different value system. The triteness of the maxim, “every man is a product of his culture,” becomes less objectionable as the truth of the matter is realized. Our actions are based on our knowledge and perceptions, and our knowledge and perceptions are based on our surroundings. Or, in Gasset’s terms, our subjective disposition is deter- mined by our cultural orientation. And, the reasoning follows, art is a manifestation of our subjective dis- position. Art is, therefore, inextrica- bly culture bound, indicative at every point of the culture from which it arises. “Rock ‘n Roll music stems from the people — people who know nothing about Art. The music of the forties stll qualifies for what is called Ritsch: popular art that has the look of traditional fine art. Rock ‘n Roll has no such aspirations (as of now): its rhythms are felt rather than con- sciously stylized,’ says Carl Betz in .the Journal of American Folk- lore. Betz’ conclusion is wholly consistent with Gasset’s theory if we allow the differential use of the term “art.” Rock ‘n Roll is the youth culture, inevitably, and loyally. 229 After three years as assistant at UCLA, Denny Crum brought youth and new ideas to UL basketball this year. Prior to his assistantship to UCLA’s John Wooden, Crum played for the Bruins three years and then coached at juniorcollege level for six years. These photos show Denny Crum early in the season when his now UCLA-derived methods were first being tried and tested with Cardinal material. 230 Junior 232 Boe LONE Jeu 72 Due to deadline limitations, this is not a comprehensive report of the entire season but a good look at the fantastic beginning the Cardinals had and a showing of the form that is sure to take them far this season. 234 235 3 W gs Fly 7 A — - ; A 3 y DS OW. ; Wed u0lstry, s § b eg it . 40 32 = es r io ly 4 Loe 239 240 242 243 246 248 249 SENIORS ARTS AND SCIENCES David Allman Fuisal Al-Magahwi Stephen A. Andrews Nona Atkinson John Austin Pamela Austin Judy Becker 250 Janice Besser Jane Bostain Marsha Brent Janet Lee Brooks S. Neill Brooks Sue Bruning Doug Butler Lynn Campbell Buell J. Carter Jr. Gordon Carter Cathy Chisholm Abel Coronel 251 “Ae | AN a WV Ellen Cowley Steve Croghan Robert Davis — } Cathy Doll Penny Dominques Yvonne Ewalt G.E. Freeman mi f UN Garry Galbreath Joseph R. Gallinger Bill Graber Donna Graven Kristy Green Don Greene William H. Gutekunst Jr. Ann Hassenpflug Jadeen V. Haines Sue Hayden Jonathan Heiliczer Roger S. Herdt Libby Houcous 253 Walter G. Howard Jr. Riesa Hubbs Gary O. Inmar Sharon Jackie Dennis Jones Ken Kleier Vicki Jackson Jerry Lach Tom Luber Larry E. Martin Marry Meiman 254 Martha Oldham Jeffrey Olm Patricia Otto Reba Page James Pounas Morris Reeder § OF ra Larry A. Richard Stuart A. Robertson Lewis Rowe Lynn Ruck 255 mall | av � Mike Ruffra Keith L. Runyon Ursula Sanders Robert D. Schaad | ATM [° be fe Don Simmons Lynn Smirnow Edith K. Smith Charles C. Staiger Jerry Steimel Alex Stiber Kevin Swope Steve Tackwood 256 fy = Camille Tashley Lois Tucker Paul Turner Ernest Van Hoose nm! X — he VS l Edward B. Wagner Sherrie Warren Joseph A. Watzek Mary Ann White S. Craig Widen Gerard D. Wittman Wm. R. Wolfe Anne E. Wood 257 Bruce Yenawine Ronda Zalman MUSIC ’ Marla Crutcher Marcia Lege a= Terry Miller Willanna Smothers Sheryl Sodenberg Dallas Tidwell 258 EDUCATION Lois Adams Carole Alster Hazel Andrews Beverly Bass Ruth A. Beard Wanda Beard Nancy Carey Janie Caslowe Tynn Craggs Carol Fakler 259 Florence Fields Sheila Gooch Larry R. Harrison Diana Johnson Elizabeth Katyman Doris Keefe Kathleen Kelly Cathy Klapheke Alison C. Kornreich Mary Rose Mattei Betty Jane McFelia Rhoda Milton 260 ry Betty Monheimer Velma Morrison Anna Perry Patricia Renner Mary Jane Ringle Jayne N. Seebert Marguerite D. Shufharer Mary Tacer Gail Toye Cathy Wary Linda Whitlock Barbara Thorp 261 BUSINESS A. Karim Ali Joel Arnold Vince Bayens Joseph E. Blandford rh) — j a) Ralph G. Calvin Charles Casper Rick Czerwonka John E. English 262 W. Reid Fatchett Jr. Lawrence L. Fravert Max E. Goldberg William Guelda Ivan Harris James Hickerson Paul Hollensead Mary Kirchenbrod Mike Klemenz Maury J. Kohn Harvey Layman James R. Malley 263 Charles M. May Louis Meiners Thomas J. Mihon Jack Miller Paul M. Monen Paul Pry Cynthia Pryor Karen Ryan Richard Sandifer Robert Schindler Bruce D. Scott 264 ea ( te ( Pa a | i { se Michael Segel Robert Sells Mike Simpson George R. Sinclair ) | ih Ed Skaald Bill Smith Robert Smith Paul Tailowski Bruce Thomas William Tipton David L. Vish R. Eric Waldman 265 Donna Whitaker C. Howard Whitson June Woo Robert Yaden ENGINEERING Dennis Abell Hooman Abtahi Joseph A. Anon Hike Barnes John Bennett Kenneth Besser 266 a” il Gary T. Boblitt Ronald Broadwaks Frederick A. Brooks Tom Catz Larry D. Coffmann Clark Conrad Kenny Crain Dennis E. Crowley Nguyen L. Diep Aaron Dunaway Larry Ebersold Bob Fau!kenberg 267 Patrick J. Gerstle David L. Gordon James Harn James L. Harris James T. Haven Stephen Heilgepetta Bob Halfrick Stephen Hoefler 268 David F. Holroyd Dan Ising John N. Jewell Michael J. Kirchner Donald C. Kroeger Robert T. Langan Jr. Donald L. Lynch Joseph D. Miller David Lee Madison Robert L. Mattingly Lonnie D. McCoy 269 David Bruce Mitchell Rahman Mohammadi William E. Murphy Jr. Terry Owens Roger E. Parrish Tim Quirey Mike Ray Steve Richardson Philip Riggs Bernard L. Roach Leroy R. Sachleben John Sacksteder David C. Scharre Lawrence H. Schoch Jr. Robert M. Stick John B. Stone Kenneth R. Tampton Mike Tarullo Dennis Thomas Joseph M. Thomas Marty Tittlebaum James A. Uphaus Jr. Larry P. Warren Paul Watkins Edison Woo UNIVERSITY COLLEGE John F. Hudak Jack W. Stallings 272 KENT SCHOOL OF SOCIAL WORK ait Dennis Blake Elaine Briscoe Judith Burash Glynn A. Carr f Isabella Chan Thomas Coomer Mitchell Curry Elaine Dawson Theresa Ferlita Glenn Harada Thomas E. Hedden Torraine Hughes Sr. Jacquelyn Kirsch Charles Klumeler Sr. Carol Anne Messina Christine Monroe Louis F. Nagy Howard Rosenberg David Royse Marvin A. Sanders Jr. 274 , Madeline Skahelum Carole Stokes Mary Helen Timperman Tamar Turner LAW SCHOOL Ann Aaron Richard Aaron Sue Lynn Aspley Timothy B. Ayers Gaylord B. Ballard Donald B. Bauer 275 Donald W. Blackburn Cecil A. Blye Henry E. Bornstein Stuart Braune David F. Broderick Linda S. Ewald Ellen B. Ewing Mary Ann Delaney John E. Dix Diane C. Donoghoe William Fishman 276 Lawrence Foley F. Larkin Fore Clyde H. Foshee Jr. Anthony L. Giordano Fredrick H. Green Hubert P. Griffin Simon Hamilton Walter A. Holland Dennis Jay Hummel Shelton N. Isaacs Tony Johnson 277 Raymond E. Jones Jr. Terry Allen Jones Ua Edwin Kagan Mike Karem Robert W. Keats di Robert D. LaFramenta Louise B. Lancaster Medford Q. Lee James Marshall Daniel M. Migliore Stephen H. Miller Juska Nicholson David Parnes Homer Parrent Elizabeth S. Pedigo Michael M. Powers B. Frank Rademacher Ronald D. Ray Mike Reynolds Charles A. Saladino Martin R. Sayder 279 John Shamy C.A. Dudley Shanks John B. Southard Jr. Bruce Talman Donald R. Wood Stephen A. Yussman 280 MEDICAL TECHNOLOGY Ruth Ann Beinstidler Debbie Brown =- ee Sherry Cruch Floyd DeWitt Mary Jean Doyle Teena Hallij Marcia Kay Mangeot Indiron Patel Linda S. Rodman Sandra R. Stratton 281 MEDICAL SCHOOL John Anderson Bill Applegate Charles Arnett er Jim Bailen George Barrows Neel Bennett Mike Bick r) Manvel Brown Barry Brumberg Joe Cecil Charles Cook 282 Herbert Cool C. Wayne Cruse Bob Dalzell Danny Dill Larry Dye Mike Farmer Kurt R. Finburg Jim Frederick Charles Gaba David Gelbart Warren Heely Marilyn Hicks 282 Steve Hiland Diane Hoard Carl Hoffman John Hunes Ron Johnson Allen Jones Walt Jones Allen Kallor . Steven Kaplan Louis Kastan Lowell D. Katz Bob Kiskaddon 284 Frank Koeb Ron Koff Forrest Kuhn Jr. John Kuhn Bruce Lawrence Rick Mitchell Phil Morrow Pete Moynahan David Namerow George R. Nichols Gary H. Peterson Ron Podoll 285 Janey Pope Jim Powell Michael Reuben John Rice Charles E. Rose Jr. John Rose Richard Sanders Kew Schikler e Frank Scudder Gary Shearer Don Shoemaker Bruce Snider 286 Stan Snyder J.T. Spare Allen Stryker Beu Taylor Wes Whilter William Williso Susan Wilson Katherine Witherington Carl Wolf Stewart Wolfson Stephen Wright Phillip Yunker 287 DENTAL SCHOOL Francis Abell Mike Baldwin Dan Beiting L.J. Beltrone Harry W. Bickel Ray Carmon Black Harry Bopp Larry Bowman Charles Bradshaw William Branham 288 ; ar Bob Bryan Roy Campfield Gordon Crawford Robby Crowe a Oh Tom Dailey Matt Emerson Harry Futrell Robert Gaskins «. = —— ail © Walter Gunter Terry Hamblen John Haney Grant Hastings 289 Dennis Hise George Holland Roy Johnson Ron Jones Nick Kavouklis James Kendrick Clifton King Susan Kinnon Steve Kirsner Bruce Mahaffey Willard Mahan Robert F. Malinowski 290 Terry Matsundt Ray McMillon Michael Meyer Tracy Mills Tom Mitcham Van Nelimark Bruce Nussbaum Barry Parker Dean Piere William Ralston Ken Rees Pat Reid 291 Perry Royston Mike Sala Adrian Skinner Tom Smith John Stohl Bob Witherspool Arthur Zediker Marc Zwelg 292