Page 2
THE NEBRASKAN
Friday, March 22, 1946
EDITORIAL
COMMENT
JJisl (Daih TIoLaoauvl
FORTY-FIFTH TEAR
Subscription rate are $1.00 cer semester or $1.50 for the college year
52.50 mailed. Single copy 6c. Published daily during the school year except
Mondays and Saturdays, vacations, and examination periods, by the students
of the University of Nebraska under the .supervision of the Publication Board.
Entered as Second Clas Matter at the Post Offics in Lincoln, Nebraska, under
Act of Congress, March 3, 1879, and at special rate of postage provided Tor I
section 1103. act of October Z, 1917, authorized septemper ju,
Bl SINK!-3 STAFF
Business Manarrr Iorralne Abramson
Aictani Rn(na Mmipf . nArAttift. Kospnberr. Danna Peterson
Irrnlallnn Mnnanx Keith Jones. Phone t-6213
niTARIAI KTAVF
Fdltnr flerr tftm Rnstoa
Manatfnf Editors rhyllli Teaitardea, Shirley Jenkins
News Kdltors Mary Alio Cawood. I'hyllli Morltock, Jnrk lcssmaa
Data NaratnY. Marlhrlla Holeomb
8 ports Editor Georre Miller
HoeMj Editor I Toot
Kiddie Kapers . . .
"Johnny, get your fingers out. Mary, shake hands with
the lady." "George, use your napkin." Such admonitions
may have been necessary instructions for everyone during
their formative years but until recently we had taken it for
granted that college students were adults with, if not pol
ished, at least adequate, manners. According to the letters
and gripes which students have been throwing our way,
however, it seems that Joe College and Betty Coed on the
Nebraska campus could stand a little brushing up on Emily
Post s dictems.
The girls complain that the men have forgotten how
to open doors, remove their hats or stand in the presence of
a lady. The fellows are of the opinion that the coeds also
seem to have given up some of the niceties of life.
The Union staff reports their displeasure with some
of the more thoughtless habits of the students, such as the
frequent tipping over of filled ash trays without any effort
being made to pick up the mess. They are also regretful
of the people who make a habit of sprawling over and mis
treating the hard to replace upholstered furniture in the
Union lounges. Then there were the two boys who spent
part of an afternoon batting a swinging door back and forth
until it broke. Such tricks belong in the same category as
tirst grade initial carving.
Another frequent student complaint is pointed at those
people who carry on social rather than academic pursuits
in the reading rooms of the library. We agree that it is im
possible to study at the same table or in the same room with
fellow students who are talking, giggling and otherwise en
joying themselves. Why don't these people go on a picnic
if they want to play?
Something is definitely wrong with us if we conduct
ourselves in such a manner in public places as to annoy oth
ers. This is a free country and everyone is his own boss,
yes, but as yet manners are not old hat. As we see it the
blame does not lie with experiences and habits acquired dur
ing the war years in the kind of atmosphere created in the
armed forces, by employment in war plants, or other envi
ronments far removed from the front parlor. Manners are
not just surface polish buffed up by daily use. Basically
they come from deeper inside and spring from consideration
of other people. They are a matter of thoughtfulness. Our
fellow students appreciate their use.
7lavy Stucbwl UIqwa Cbd $Iww,
(Editor's Note: The following
story is a prize winer in the fea
ture story contest sponsored by the
Nebraska Art Association. It was
written by Robert Beason, NROTC
student. The art exhibit will con
tinue until March 31 in Morrill
Hall).
By Robert Beason.
"After we leave here," he said,
"we'll go up to Morrill Hall and
see the art exhibit."
"O. K.," I said, "but I don't
know where Morrill Hall is lo
cated. I hope you know."
'Sure I know," he said, "You re
member where the bus goes down
14th street past the Student Union
and turns off to the east? Well,
then do you remember the mauso
leum standing by the corner?"
"Yes."
Morrill Hall.
"That's Morrill Hall," he said.
Then we both had another tall
glass and went thru the swinging
doors and down to the corner to
catch the bus. From the build-up
by friend, Merchrisch, had given
me about Morrill Hall, I didn't ex
pect much. But I found the build
ing to be not too repugnant. We
didn't exactly know where to find
the art exhibit, so we simply op
ened the door to the first room
we saw. A number of high-pitched
screams came to our ears, so we
decided we must be in the wrong
room. By the way of kind guid
ance from an elderly lady, we
found the exhibit.
Summer Time.
The first piece of art we saw
was called "Summer, 1944." paint
ed by Bouche Louis. Merchrisch
smiled at me. Remember those
times?" he asked.
"Yes," I laughted. "Those were
the times. No men around except
us 4-F's." In the picture was a
beautiful, lonely girl standing on
a lovely porch. Merchrisch bent
down and looked closely at the
bushes in the background.
"Nope," he said. "Must not have
been any camps around; I don't
see anyone looking thru the
bushes."
Story.
Then a picture of a skiff caught
our eyes. We found the name of
the painting was "The Skiff,"
painted by Stephen Etnier. "Now
mere is a painting that tells a
whole story," said Merchrisch.
"What story?" I asked.
"The story of my uncle," he
said. "The skiff reminds me of
the times when my uncle used to
use just such a boat to ply his
trade."
"What trade?" I eagerly in
quired. Good Story.
"I don't know any good word
for the trade, but it was in the
days of prohibition when our
family used to live in the country
just across the river from a large
town .... but that's a long story.
The man and women going into
the distance in the boat reminds
me of the da ythe revenue agents
drove up to the house."
We walked down the halL and
over to the right we saw a paint
ing of some beautiful white bones. !
"That looks rather outstanding," I
said. "Let's go over and take a
closer look." The bones stood out
in bold relief against a dark back-
Fellow Arts and Science Students
There would seem to be a rather
deplorable situation in the matter
of general Arts and Science (espe
cially Sociology) honorary organi
zations on this campus. Since Arts
and Science has a sizable enroll
ment, it seems to me that there
should be at least one organiza
tion for its students to enjoy.
In the past, there were two
such honoraries. Last fall a meet
ing was held to obtain the opinion
of Sociology majors concerning
the revival of the defunct Alpha
Kappa Delta. A nominating com
mittee was formed and nothing
happened. Last spring I asked for
a meeting of the Vestals of the
Lamp, a women's honorary. One
person came.
There are very few members of
Vestals left on the campus and
with the graduation of the pres
ent senior class, these will dis
appear into the obscurity of alum
naeism. Would it be possible for
these few remaining members to
get together to discuss a revival?
The organization died with the
outbreak of the war. Will it be
revived for postwar plans? At
one time this organization was
strong enough to be an important
factor in determining Mortar
Board prospects. There are girls
in school now whose mothers were
Vestals, and who would like to be
Vestals 'themselves. If you were a
Vestal of the Lamp, please con
tact me at 5-6030 in the near fu
ture, and we'll see what can be
arranged.
PAT CURRY DEPPE.
The Ash Can
Marthella Holcomb jj
ground. We looked at the paint
ing a few minutes, then Merch
risch looked at me with a wild look
of fright in his eyes.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"I have a feeling we're being
watched," he said. "Can you see
two yellow eyes behind those
bones?" I looked closer. I too,
could see two staring eyes. Then
a huge jungle cat surrounded the
two shining objects.
"It's a large cat," I said. We
looked again; another cat ap
peared behind the first. Then an
other looked over the back of the
second. That was too much for the
two of us. As we fled down the
hall, Merchrisch turned to me,
Either we were drinking some
thing stronger than we thought, or
else cats multiply faster than cal
culators," he said in a breathless
voice.
We found out later that the
name of the painting was "Dan
gerous Cats," but we didn't have
he nerve to go back and look at
the picture again.
Photograph.
Along the hall we saw several
paintings which interested us, and
down at the end was one called
'The Martha McKeen of Well-
fleet." Ed Hopper was the artist
whose name appeared on the can
vas. We marvelled at the clarity of
the sailboat riding on the waves.
It looks just like a photograph,
said. Mershrisch sat down.
"I think I'd better take it easy,"
he said.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
A greenish pall covered his face.
"I'm getting seasick," he gasped.
An elderly gentleman ap
proached us. "How do you like
the exhibit?" he asked.
"We have enjoyed it immense
ly," I said. "We like the way the
pictures are grouped to show the
works of each country. Alrho we
have never been to an art exhibit
befoie, we have now learned
something of the enjoyment which
one can have if one takes the
trouble to observe."
After he had gone Merchrisch
whispered, "Wonder what the
metal badge he had pinned on his
shirt was for?"
"I don't like metal badges
pinned on shirts," I said, "but I
guess he was just the custodian."
Then we went downstairs. We
thought we saw some very life
like statues, but a lady told us
they weren't statues at all, but
rather they were statues. Out by
the door was a statue of an old
man, sitting with his hands under
his chin. "Must have been done by
Milo," said Merchrisch. "No other
sculptor could put that much life
into his work."
'Be careful what you say about
me, Bub," the statue said. "I am
not really a statue, but some peo
ple think so. You see, it's this
way. In 1935 I went on a sit-down
strike, and I haven't got up since." ,
The eighth wonder of the world has been located.
Turned out to be the process whereby Leo curls all six feet
four inches of Schneider into a phone booth, then manages
to look "comfortable as he chats for hours on end. Time,
that is.
There's something brewing in the little black teapot
besides the Junior-Senior Prom, but we're not exactly sure
what it is as yet. The bloodhounds are out with Justus on
it, though, and you'll be hearing soon. In the meantime, the
committee is planning a six lesson course in "How to ask
your gal for a date to the prom" for those who are still beat
ing around the bush. Better get on the ball, men, so she
can shop for a dress during vacation.
With the busiest weeks of the year approaching at
about the same rate as our private nervous breakdown, we
were dealt a cruel blow Tuesday night by Dr. Militzer's
"Within a century men will be living to be 125." Oh,
horrors, 125 years of Christmas shopping, and our feet are
still sore from last time. Next thing they'll be forcing the
kids to step up their drivers' licenses to 31. Ah, adolescence.
And how old are you little girl? "Sweet thirty-six and
never been kissed."
AWARD
FOR SERVICE
A sleeping village in the path of a rag
ing flood . . . at her switchboard an
operator makes' call after call to alert
the community and summon aid. She
leaves only when rising waters reach
the board and the building itself be
comes flooded.
For this and similar acts of public service,
more than 1,200 telephone men and women
have received the Bell System's most coveted
award the Theodore N. Vail Medal.
Service to the public has long been a tra
dition in the Bell System. The thought "service
fir8t" day by day as well as in emergencies
has helped give this nation the best communi
cations service in the world.
BELL TELEPHONE SYSTEM