Fridoy, March 24, 1956
THE NEBRASKAN
Page t
UOVI Gf0f
ros f.ly
Conf. From Page 3
sickened exhaustion. The low voice
came in through the window:
"Don't cut yourself on the glass."
Her eyes stared Into the win
dows of his mind.
The morning light streamed in
the still-open window. He stirred
as he woke from his dreamless
sleep. His eyes immediately turned
to the window and saw nothing
but the sky, blue as the moon on
a dreary day. He got' up and
looked out of the window, and the
child had gone.
He sat down at his typewriter.
Today, he thought, I will begin
the Great American Novel. He had
thought about this for some time,
but his thoughts had seemed
jumbled like the letters in alpha
bet soup. This morning they were
arranged in neat, orderly rows.
He rolled a sheet of paper into
the machine and began to type;
the sound staccatoed in the meag
erly furnished room.
"She opened the front porch
door and stepped out into the fresh
morning air. Bending over to
pick up the milk bottles, she no
ticed that George had tripped on
the stairs when he had come in
last night. What was she going to
do about him?"
The blond head appeared at the
window. "Hello," it said.
"Hello," he said, trying to be
unconcerned, but a disturbing
memory gnawed at his mind, like
a rat at a pantry door. He tried
to go on typing, but his ideas had
become jumbled again.
He walked over to the window
and looked at her, drawing sym
bols in the sand. They didn't look
like letters; they were just foreign
marks. '
He watched her for awhile, and
then she said, "What do you sup
pose happened to your champagne
bottle?"
The glass was no longer on the
floor; the bare wood stared up at
him, holding its secret under its
rough surface. A face seemed to
shimmer under the wet stain on
the floor, and again a voice said,
"Emily."
The mouth on the shimmering
face moved; the eyes seemed to
beckon him. He started toward it,
and the voice from the window
aaid', "What do you suppose hap
pened?" He turned back to the window,
staring at her with unseeing
The Ship
The huge, open mixer of cement
Batters its groaning waves
And grasps aa undissolved lump
of clay,
A ship, still stubbornly grinding
a trail.
A small boy who frames
His toe-print to cement
To prove that he was there. .
The ship powders there
la the clenched-fist 'pressure of
the waves.
Men, on hearing of Its fate,
Make a tiny model to raise
Inside, a bottle. They place
Much on this lump that knew
what it was doing there
And talk of its bravery and Its
sails.
Glenna Berry
eyes. What did happen?"
"I don't know," she said, smil
ing, "But it's gone." She sat down
again in the sand.
Suddenly the sun went behind
a cloud and the sky became or
ange. Her face blurred before him
into a mass of red and yellow.
He pushed the screen off of the
window and dropped to the ground
beside her. She continued to scrib
ble in the sand, her head down.
"What happened to the bottle?"
be shouted.
"What do you suppose hap
pened?" she asked, smiling, rais
ing her head. Her face had sud
denly become more mature and
somehow beautiful.
She threw her head back and
laughed, and her white neck,
arched in the curve of a wine
glass, glistened in the sun. His
hands reached for the whiteness
and closed around it. "Emily," be
aid, in a sob. "Emily."
The sun disappeared.
He woke with the light on his
face. His hands were bloody;
pieces of broken glass were lying
around him on the floor, and a
amell of champagne bung, tomb
like in the sultry air. He stirred
and looked at bis hands; then, be
got up and went to the window.
In the sand was written, "Em
ily." He rubbed his eyes and sat
down at his typewriter. His fingers
moved on the keys without know
ing what they were writing. "Em
ily," it said on the paper. "Emily,
come back."
There was a knock on the door,
light as the breath of a dying child.
"Come in," he called.
The blond child opened the door.
"Hello," she said. "I have come
to pick up my champagne bottle."
She picked up the pieces and put
them in her skirt. Her eyes were
sad; she no longer smiled. Her
satin throat was marred with red.
"Good-by," she said. Her blond
hair burned red in the morning
un. She opened the door, walked
out and closed it behind her. Its
click was the click of a closing
casket. The sky was black.
His head lay on the typewriter.
"Good-by, Emily."
"EM, EM em, em," echoed in
the quiet room. The yellow sun
truck the man's bloody hands,
nd they glowed in the light.
4 ' iff
M GREEN ft
Poem
soundless in vaulted absence
These exiles
invoke vigil darklong
-so sings
The Voyager home,
should Silence cool with less
Than Tears
or her night evade distress.
Richard Hagelberger.
Fra Savonarola
Fra Savonarola, a learned Sire,
Was not content to be a Friar,
Or Pastor of a country shire,
Dressed in sombre black attire.
But to more he did aspire
Neyer dreaming he'd go higher
Than the height of his desire.
But you never can tell.
In such matters.
Fra Savonarola, righteous Friar,
Speaking with the dreadful ire
Befitting such a grim outcryer,
Criticized the frightful mire.
As sense of duty did require,
The cause of it did he inquire;
And pointed at a certain Squire,
Which was not only bold,
But impolite.
Fra Savonarola, a Prophet dire,
Preaching with tongue of fire,
The Inquisition did conspire
To calm that most provoking Prior
By something they did much admire;
By something quite a little slyer
Than a suit brought by a lawyer
Though they used that,
As camouflage.
Fra Savonarola, in black attire,
Hoisted to the funeral pyre,
Granted as the flames grew higher,
And his hopes of Heaven nigher,
He'd do that penance and expire,
And to a better world retire.
But tho I don't say he's a liar,
It wasn't his idea,
But theirs.
Fra Savonarola, among the Choir
Of Angels, may not play his lyre
All decked in snowy-white attire,
If what he hoped did all transpire.
But even if there's graft and hire
I pray bell keep his wits entire!
I don't expect he's any shyer
Though he'd ought to fear the fire
.But soot would ruin his new attire,
Which may be a deterrent,
If nothing else is.
F. X. Ross
Once In A Blue
O Merlin,
Thou shouldst be leaving
at this hour . . .
elsewhere your cauldron
boils trouble
BOOMS!
o to be in England
now that England's everywhere
a green unpleasant land,
Nineteen-hundred and Forty-eight
times
higher than the MOON
and those people you see
below
cannot sweep up the dust
for the brooms.
Richard Hagelberger.
Poem
And to The Ocean began hardening. Here it was
as The Map of Love had predicted a green egg
in the midst of mountains and our climb.
And the Alps?
a picnic ground of solitaries
and dead birds (There was
an abundance of These
so many of them,
large
and still in a bard feather)
because I said the snow was like a
damask cloth
where things laid out were things laid away.
And in the village under the avalanche,
The children kept singing:
'mice in the wedding cake
gnats in your shoe . . . '
Finally, they froze-not even the priest cared,
he died too.
It troubled me to remember
a town like a cupboard
The sheets and towels
and the curtairji
even the street
on a shelf,
The door closed
And everywhere the snow
unchanged
like a postcard
you forgot to take along.
Richard Hagelberger.
AIRLINE HOTESSES
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Trans World ;
10 Richards
SUdkm City,
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ThG Pits...
By BYRON
The morning was clear, with
only a few faint clouds dotting
the early morning sky. By noon
the temperature would climb to
well above 70 degrees. The peo
ple of the community thought this
indeed good.
As the day wore on toward noon,
smatterings of activity could be
seen on the streets, as the people
went to and from their business,
pausing in the shade of the large
elms to chat.
It was a good day, full of prom
ise of finer things to come.
As 10 a.m. approache d, and
passed, many of the citizens of the
community paused in their labors
to retire to the central coffee house
where they talked over the events
of the community, and what was to
come, now that spring was here.
Some, who had "been around"
perhaps more than the others
waxed eloquently on events of the
misty and legendary past. The
youngsters gathered at the feet of
their elders, and listened in awe
as tale after tale spun its golden
web through the sparkling morn
ing. Finally, noon arrived, and for
most of the people their work was
done for the week. Excited groups
gathered at lunch, and plans were
laid for the afternoon and the fol
lowing days that made up the
weekend.
A feeling of general electric ten
sion pulsed through the communi
ty. Suddenly, a hush fell over the
community, as it often does when
something great and wonderful is
about to happen. The people paused
in their labors to let the fresh,
warm air pulse through their
lungs. It was indeed good to be
alive.
But this hush was to prove only
the calm before the storm. From
somewhere way out on the fringe
areas a faint wail was heard.
One person heard the cry, and
then another. Its message was
spread from mouth to mouth, un
til it seemed to flow through every
channel like an angry, livid
stream of hate and fear.
Silence fell over the community
like a fine dirt sifting over a
grave. No sound was heard, except
for a great, silent sob which gasped
once and was heard no more.
One man walked the streets,
alone. Tears ran unashamedly
down his face. His finery was
drooping and streaked with dust.
He turned slowly toward his dwel
ling, where his misery could be
shared with his fellows.
A stranger, wondering at the
silence and the sorrow which per
meated the usually active com
munity, spoke to him, and asked
him what was the matter.
The man turned, and from the
depths of his soft brown eyes shone
a misery as deep as any the
stranger had ever seen.
"They locked up the pits," the
man said, and ran sobbing up the
walk end into his house.
Help From The Sky . . .
Continued From Page 3
He felt as if a two-ton load had
been lifted from his back. He mur
mured to himself, "Thanks, who
ever or whatever the hell you are."
He picked up the mike. "All
right, you apes, pipe down. Dave,
see if you can get the Azores on
voice, but keep your intercom
switch open. I want you to hear
what I am going to say to the
crew.' Is everybody on inter
com?" He waited until everyone called
in. "Now listen, all of you. I dont
think we should tell anyone what
happened today . . ." There were
yelps, cries, and angry voices in
terrupting on the intercom.
Ritts was looking at him in stark
disbelief. "Damn it, shut up and
let me finish. I am still captain
of this crew."
He waited until there was sil
ence. "I can't order you not to
say anything, but listen to my
reasons and then let's vote on it.
We all got to agree.
"You guys know the official Air
Force statement, and opinion, on
the flying-saucer business. They
say it just ain't so, that people
are crazy, seeing things, or misin
terpreting what they say. All right,
here we are a bunch of peons. We
land over two hours late and give
this cock-and-bull story and it
will be a cock-and-bull story to the
Air Force.
"First, they think we are trying
to cover up the business of being
so late, then, when we keep stick
ing to the story, they think we are
publicity-seekers. Finally, when we
still stick to our guns, they get the
psychos on us.
"They are going to find some rea
son for our tall story, all in nice,
big medical words. O.K., so we
still stick to our story, but we
won't tell anyone else, because the
brass will warn us that this is se
curity info no public statements.
Then we are suspected of being
queer for insisting that we saw
what couldn't happen.
"They bust us up as a crew and
send us to some of the Siberias
that you know this Air Force has
all over the world. Our records
will have a black mark for the
rest of our service. That might
not bother all of you, but I hope to
finish my twenty in this outfit.
"Anyway, that's the way I see
it. One more thing, maybe not as
important, maybe more so, I don't
know; but those 'things,' 'it's, or
'they's' evidently don't want to be
introduced to the world-as yet.
They may have their reasons. Still,
they risked a lot to show them'
DANCING
at the
GREEN ROOM
Every Saturday Night
from 9-12
YMCA
210 No. 13th
selves and help us out of a mess,
maybe save our lives.
"Went to a lot of trouble, too,
I guess, trying to receive and send
our Morse code. Don't know how
they did it, but I guess those babies
have ways of doing things. Any
way, I figure we owe them a fa
vor,, and, if they prefer to play
hide and seek, well, damn it, I say
let them.
The Diver
Aquinas walking on the water
heard
The Spirit and the Bride say,
Come, and saw
The thirsty ones approaching
timidly.
Now, walking on the bottom of
that sea,
He barely feels the waves of Love
and Law
In the dark silence of the dis-
carnate Word.
We on the bank, watching him
disappear,
Heard again, Come; but would
not go so near.
Water's- for drinking, not for
atmosphere.
G. Thomas Fairclongh
"Well, that's all I got to say.
You guys think it over."
There was a strained silence for
a minute or two, then Bob spoke,
a little hesitantly. "I don't know
that I agree with you all the way,
Waldo, especially about the debt
we owe, but I think you're right
about the Air Force. I'm with
you."
Mac said slowly, "You're the
boss, skipper. I'm with you."
Dave's voice came over the ear
phones, "I guess you know what
you're talking about, Captain,
about the Air Force, I mean. I'll
keep mum." .
Waldo turned to Ritts. "Ritts?"
Ritts frowned, bit his lip, thea
said, "O.K., Waldo, you might be
right. I think we should take the
chance that you're wrong, but I
won't be the only guy who blabs.
Then they'll think I'm nuts for
sure!"
Waldo broke out in a big grin.
"O.K., you psychos, then it's
agreed. Nothing happened today
except we got a little lost. Dave,
you got the Azores for me?"
"Yes, sir, Lagens Field is stand
ing by .?xw."
Waldo held his hand up and
made the O.K. sign with his thumb -and
finger, then switched to V.H.S.
"Lagens, Lagens, this is Air Force
5162 en route from Goose Bay Air
Force Base carrying cargo, no
passengers, two hours and forty
five minutes over flight-plan time,
within fifteen minutes of your field.
Over."
"Air Force 5162, this is Lagens.
We have been picking up your
emergency calls for the past hour,
could not get through to you. Are
you in any trouble? It everything
all right? Over."
"Lagens, this is Air Force 5162.
Waldo looked over at Ritts, winked,
then continued. "Roger, Lagens.
Everything O.K. We were blown
off course due to severe weather.
Have ample fuel to make your
base. Request approach instruc
tions, please."
While the tower operator's voica
droned out the routine instructions,
Waldo looked out the window. He
couldn't repress a wink to the
blue of the unseeing sky, nor a
murmured, "Anytime you want to
visit, fellahs, the drinks art on
me."
You Are Invited To Worthip
ST. PAUL METHODIST CHURCH
12th and M Streets
Morning Worship 11 ffl AM.
Sermon topic:
"Through Calvary to Victory"
Church Study
Classes 9:45 A.M,
Radio Ministry Every Sunday
KFAB 9:00-9:15 AM.
ETOR 11:30 AM.
Ministers:
FRANK COURT, RALPH LEWIS, SAMUEL BEECHNER
DONALD BLISS WESLEY FOUNDATION
KEEP YOUR SUNDAYS SACRED
THROUGH THE HOLY HUSH OF WORSHIP!
What young people are doing at General Electric
I
Young engineer
works on new ways
to remove heat
from atomic reactors
An atomic reactor running at full efficiency
creates a tremendous amount of heat in its
core. By removing this heat and putting it to
work boiling water to make steam, atom
made electricity is produced.
One of the men responsible for designing
new, more efficient ways to remove heat from
atomic reactors is 29-year-old Doctor Salo
mon Levy Design Analysis supervisor in
the Atomic Power Equipment Department's
Reactor Engineering Unit.
Levy's Work Interesting, Vital
To study this problem of heat transfer,
C.E. recently constructed a heat-transfer sys
tem. By electrically simulating the heat pro
duced in a reactor, it is possible to determine
the maximum rate at which heat can be re
moved from a reactor to make steam.
Dr. Levy conceived the idea of building
this complex system, designed it and super
vised its construction. At present, Lev
works with this system to study new prob
lems of heat transfer and fluid flow encoun
tered in atomic power plants.
25,000 College Graduates at General Electric
When Salompn Levy came to General
Electric in 1953, be already knew the kind
of work he wanted to do. Like each of pur
25,000 college-graduate employees, he was
given his chance to grow and realize his full
potential. For General Electric has long be
lieved this: Whenever fresh young minds are
given the freedom to make progress, every
body benefits the individual, the company,
and the country.
Educational Relations, General Electric
Company, Schenectady 5, New York
LI- "'A
17X:
'if
' 7
Si DR. SALOMON IEVY joined C.E. In I
1953 after receiving his B.S. in M.E. Y
from the Univ. of Calif, in 1949. In f
1951 he received his M.S., and in 1953 f
- hi Ph.D. From '49-'50 he was teach- f
I ing awistant at U. of C, and '50-'53 he
; I was Junior Research Engineer at the i
I Institution of Engineering Research.
i i . s jr.
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