University of Massachusetts Amherst - Index Yearbook (Amherst, MA)

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vier. And it so happens that the um- brella and the man were walking as far as Norzagaray Street, where he was going to catch a bus — or — well, something vehicular. Now, any queer name like Norzagaray undoubtedly belongs to the Basque tongue. The Basques come from a high country in the Pyrenees; they have never been conquered; their language is the most difScult in the world. Unamuno, the brilliant philosopher, is a Basque. And there is a dose of geography, mil- itary strategy and biography, courtesy of Dr. Fraker. Then, too, our hero, besides protecting himself from the rain, had another purpose in mind. He was going to Colorado. Introducing American History. Dr. Fraker was born in Colorado, which, until 1919, was Indian Territory. The people planted crops and herded cows, and, when the men were away, the women fought the Indians alone. This is the be- ginning of an American Saga. Spanish becomes, not a jumble of verbs and rules for using the subjunctive, but a living, working language. Often, under the stress, the professorial pencil breaks and, very seriously. Dr. Fraker produces a pen-knife and very seriously whittles his pencil into a sym- metrical pin-point. At which point, a bell rings and Dr. Fraker collects his watch and beret. Spanish class is over. C AND ICE Read Once upon a time when butter was plentiful, nylons purchasable, and MEN on the campus, the student body was too large for the auditorium. To the indigna- tion of the upperclasses, it was, therefore, decreed that the juniors and seniors should attend convocation during alternate sem- esters. Those were the days! Awed fresh- men used to stand at respectful attention while the senior class strutted out, to the strains of the Alma Mater. And when the turn of the juniors came, they usurped regretfully-surrendered seats of giggling sessions and self-importance. It is not now as it has been of yore. The student body has adjusted itself to the auditorium. Juniors and seniors, in merry company, knit and write letters at the same convocation. A junior can no longer occupy the seat of her senior friend who has an aversion to military speakers or has run out of stationery. Outnumbered and robbed of their masculine poise, the upper classes tiptoe to their conspicuous position under the watchful eyes of the monitor and the platform, and sneak out between the self-possessed glares of freshman womanhood. „ Skip An in-a-word description of Doric Joseph Alviani, Ed.M., is enthusiasm. Descriptive as the term may be, it is nonetheless an understatement. Doric ' s vitality, pep and go have put the snap into many a campus frolic. Just like one of the gang, he is always ready for fun, and his grand sense of humor and hearty laughter make him welcome everywhere. A broad grin, a whiffle, and, come zero zephyrs, an extraordinary fur coat are his trademarks. Happy-go-lucky as he may seem, Doric is not just a rah-rah boy; those who have seen him work have been conscious of a strong current of seriousness beneath the carefree exterior, and of his understand- ing, sincere love for music. Never is this feeling more evident than when he raises his fine baritone voice in song or plays so expressively on the organ or piano. He does not completely betray his appear- ance, however, for he can tickle a mean ivory in a hot bit of boogie-woogie. With all these accomplishments comes one inevitable questio n — Temperamen- tal? Well, that ' s hard to say. After the 11

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estate, Attfuf. SttfU. Here they come gals! Tromp, tromp — Peek a boo! Is there a Sarge in there? Nope! Well, guess we ' ll have — a soda ! — a frappe ! — a dish of ice-cream ! — Yea, me too! — I was here first! — Hey sis — I ' d like — Hey, Blondie, remember me? I like lots of ice-cream — So it goes. They beg. They yell. One easy lesson in how to go definitely balmy. Once upon a time, long, long ago, there were just civilians on the campus. Then came war, then came the 58th, the hungriest bunch of fellas in the world. They eat ice-cream at 11:30, lunch at 12:00, ice-cream at 12:30— they eat all the time ! During World War I ' twas said the boys used to shoot crap. Now they flip coins (in public — don ' t know what goes on behind closed doors). Winner gets double of everything gooey while looser digs down for that last two bits. Joe College is no more — now A S Doe. There are types of cadets: the wolf type, the were-wolf type, the shy type (only one or two of these), and the definitely slap- happy type. The wolf is known by his pepsodent smile and come hither looks (one eye on the coed and one eye out for the Sarge with the gig sheet). The were- wolf — he ' s the one who howls at the sight of any female, 8 ' x 2 ' or 5 x 5. (He ' s been away from civilization for some time — anything looks good to him !) And the shy type — he ' s the one who says, Oh, I ' m not fussy. Give me anything. Then he seats himself and never looks at the girls. (Low blood pressure, cause.) As for the slaphappy A S; oh! he ' s just the regu- lar guy. He comes in big as life — thinks he ' s in the Ritz bar room — says, I ' ll have a small beer and a shot of rye. He gets a short coke with a stick of lemon — and he ' s satisfied. There are cadets from the north and cadets from the south. The only way you can tell them apart is to try short-chang- ing one. If he yells — Hey, sis, my Uncle Sammy only gives me 7c per hour, he ' s a northern man. If he says, Ma ' m, I ' m just a pore boy working ma ' way through the Air Corps, he ' s from .south of the Mason-Dixon line. There are cadets who will take you into their confidence and tell you that girls mean nothing to them, ' specially these coeds, for Well, you see, there ' s a certain gal back home. But don ' t be surprised if you see one of these Don ' t sit under the apple-tree ' ers, with a win- some coed. Cest la guerre] — you know. Really though, they ' re a fine bunch of fellows. They lent pep to our old campus and taught us much — ' specially army tactics and maneuvers. We ' ve learned to respect their apparent jollity when we realize the hell they are headed for in the war areas. We have benefited by their coming and hope that they have benefited by being here on this friendly campus! Eleanor Dudley 3 ue Be iet The blue beret tenderly hung away, and the gold watch carefully placed on the table, Dr. Fraker is ready to begin Span- ish class. The assignment was Oh, trans- late the next ten pages, but what with one thing and another, class discussion is never where Dr. Fraker suspects the next ten pages are. Translation starts, and Miss Jones mispronounces a sentence starting Un hombre con un paraguas. After correct- ing the clumsy-tongued coed, Dr. Fraker observes that the umbrella ' d man is one with something for the rain — para from the Latin for the purpose of and aguas from the Latin water, and thus rain. Logical? And thoughts of ten pages to be translated drift merrily to the four winds — four from the German 10

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way he vanished without awaiting his present after the first operetta we won- dered — and so did the audience — but Doric ' s seeming patience at rehearsals is really a study in self-control — maybe he uses yogi. Speaking of rehearsals, there is Doric ' s habitual relaxing. Many a coed has wondered audibly why he bothered to get all dressed up anyway. Almost invariably Doric arrives at rehearsals with jacket, sweater, shirt and tie. Right at the beginning, he lays aside his jacket, preparing for action, then at intervals in the succeeding ten minutes, he rolls up his shirtsleeves, loosens his tie, opens his shirt collar, takes off his sweater and removes his tie in approximately that order, meanwhile stretching his sweater — while he retains it — nearly down to his knees. It is almost impossible to picture Doric as a member of the faculty. One of the first profs incoming freshmen meet, he has been taken frequently for a senior, so lacking is all pomp and most dignity. Informal, friendly, collegiate, admired and liked for the verve and spirit he brings to campus doings, he commands, nevertheless, as much respect as docs the most austere professor. To put it briefly — a really swell guy, that ' s Doric. Katie QluUit tui4. Pilx Ufiusx Where are you going . To the infirmary, to have my throat sprayed. Haven ' t you been yet? The flu epidemic on campus seemed to be reaching alarming dimensions. Rumors of a-patient-every-other-minute records were being spread and made to appear plausible by the migrations headed away from classroom buildings toward the ex-Phi-Sig house, now the Student In- firmary, since the Army took over the original di-spensary of bandages and cold- pills. Late one night, a merry group of freshman girls skipped and giggled down Fraternity Row. Asked where they were going, they replied in chorus with the old refrain: To the infirmary. Soon, every healthy person left on campus hesitated to confess to his ab- normal condition. The feeling seemed to prevail that, if one did not manifest one ' s school spirit by sharing the common torture of having his throat painted, one might at least co-operate to the extent of sniffing and coughing a bit. Other means had failed to get the Christmas vacation extended. Surely the Board of Health could be convinced, by mass action, that an epidemic student body should not be subjected to contaminated last-minute hour examinations. Did you hear that we are going to be dismissed at Convo? Not until then? I thought we weren ' t going to be here after Wednesday noon. At any rate, rumors, as usual optimis- tic, soon made rosy results out of the yearning snifl ' s of coeds. There was even supposed to have been a faculty meeting called on the subject. A specific professor was praised for having advocated the cause of the long vacation. But Wednesday came and went, and nothing happened. Thursday arrived, and students sneezed and yawned through Convo; still the administration was silent and unmoved. There were reports that the infirmary was not quite so crowded on Friday morning. The pilgrimage had been unsuccessful; and the frustrated pilgrims, equipped with coughdrops and red noses, were homeward bound. Eva Schiffer jbocto Q. Have you seen the little man with the large straw hat digging up the Butter- field Terrace Victory gardens? Armed with felt cap and rake, he labors among 12