Palomar
Petitions Now Available
College
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Students Can File Candidacy For Palomar General Election, May 24
Monday, May 13, 1963
San Marcos, California
Vol. XV No. 24
For ASB, Other Offices Editorial, Page 2
New Student Forum Holds 2nd Meeting Censorship, Sex Student Topics The second edition of the Palomar Student Forum met last Wednesday to discuss the topic "Censorship; Just or UnJust?" Mr. Dwight Boehm and Mr. John M. Schwarz moderated the meeting which was attended by a full house , including faculty members. In the only business area of the forum, it was decided in the breaking minutes of the group to meet again this Wednesday at 3:00, but to limit the meeting to one hour. Compromise su£!£!estions which would have allowed students and faculty members with three o'clock classes to attend the forum were discussed but no action was taken. The forum on cens9rship delved into many areas, including censorship of politics, sex, religion, college instructors and school publications. Labels used in politics were mentioned, such as "unAmerican," rugged individualism, democracy, and many more. It was felt that these terms were much too general and allowed an almost totalitarian type of censorship. Sex, it seemed, was a great victim of the censors. In America, suggested the forum, it is objectionable to be critical of married life, to use "taboo" words , to suggest anything which runs contraty to virgin puritan morality. The cencensus seemed to be that American life, oriented with the sex-idea, should be free from the censors. Religious censorship was paralleled to art. The forum entertained the idea that any nonreligious work of art, regardless of quality, is liable to run into problems. This situation was also felt to be unfortunate. Continued on Page 2
Hopkins 2nd In Debate At Long Beach Frank Hopkins, Palomar's top men's oral interpreter, took second place in a field of the top eleven interpreters in southern California. The Southern California Spring Invitational Speech Tournament held at Long Beach State College this weekend was composed of the top people in interpretation and debate from the two-year and four year schools. Each school was to send its best in the events. Of the thirteen schools present, only three were junior colleges. Hopkins's award came after three rounds of competition with the other entrants. His was the only award won by a junior college contestant This tournament followed the second annual state discussion tournament, also held at Long Beach, on Friday. Palomar was the only junior college at the tournament Last year, Palomar won the tournament
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David Hunt and Clyde Hall, shown here discussing studies, will spend the summer working in Germany, under the American Student Information Service Program.
Phi Rho Pi Sponsors Contest Moy 23, Palomar students have until this Thursday, May 16, to enter the Intra-Mural Speech Tournament which is being sponsored by Phi Rho Pi. The contest is open to all Palomar students except those who have been or are now members of the speech team. The contest which will be held beginning at 2:00 p.m. on Thursday May 23 will consist of two events: persuasive speaking and oral interpretation. Speakers will participate in three rounds of the event they chose to enter. The tourney will conclude with an awards banquet in the student union that evening. Awards will be presented to first, second and third place winners in each event. Details and entry forms are available from Randy Young, Pat Ford, Nick Kremer, or any of the speech instructors.
Students To Live, Work In Lunebourg, Germany Two Palomar student will spend their summer living and working in Germany. David V. Hunt, and Clyde C. Hall, Jr. have been employed by the Loewe Pump Factory in Liinebourg, Germany. The boys got the jobs through the American Student Information Service in Luxembourg. Hunt, who works as a lab assistant in the foreign language department, saw the forms for the jobs on the bulletin board in the German room. He and Hall sent in the forms and received the jobs. They will work as assemblymen and warehousemen in the Loewe factory, which has worldwide distribution. Hall and Hunt will leave from New York on June 26 on the S.
To Include Bands, Lectures
Student Council Looks Into Possible College Hour 1
The Palomar College student council has begun to investigate the possibility of having a regular college hour next year, as part of a greatly expanded total cultural program. The proposal was introduced by Dean Catherine M. Jones, director of student activities, at the April 29 meeting of the council. According to Dean Jones, in a special Telescope interview last week, the council is interested in hearing student opinions about such a program. The college hour would be every Wednesday at 10:00 and might include many varied activities including an expanded lecture series, lectures by members of the Palomar faculty, band and chorus programs, and possibly outstanding performers from the outside and open student council meetings. "Palomar should be growing up," said Dean Jones. She suggested that the college must expand its cultural program. "We should be presenting a
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variety of programs, to interest everyone at some time." Mrs. Jones entertained various possibilities for this expansion, besides the College hour. The idea of showing some of the old classic motion pictures in special evening programs was one. Also suggested was bringing more big names to the campus. It was revealed that Area One of the state student government conference had been considering a joint cultural program with all area junior colleges, including Palomar. This would make it possible to bring entertainers of the scope of great to the junior college. The colleges would share expenses for such programs.
"But," said Dean Jones, "this can not be immediate; we should move ahead and expand our program now. Ideas from students as to possibilities for cultural expansion are desired."
S. Waterman, a German class steamship. They will arrive in Rotterdam, in the Netherlands and proceed to Luxembourg for a week's tour of the continent. They will visit towns and cities in France, Germany, Belgium and Luxembourg before their arrival at the LUnebourg factory. Liinebourg is about 25 miles or 40 kilometers southeast of Hamburg in northern Germany. The city is also between 10 to 15 miles from the East German communist sector. The city lies within the air corridor from Hamburg to West Berlin. The jobs and tickets are good for one year. Hunt said that they have made no particular plans about returning. They .may return in six months but as of yet have not definite plans. In the past weeks, and in the weeks before their departure, they plan to bone up on their German speaking techniques. 1
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8ravura Seen In Telescope For First Time
Bravura, a former English Department literary publication, makes its appearance today in the Telescope for the first time. It appears as a literary supplement to the regular weekly Telescope and is contained on the inner pages. Bravura is edited by Glenn Duncan and Kathy Larisch , and the materials are taken from members of creative writing classes and English Ib classes. It is under the advisorship of Mr. Robert Mikklesen, head of the English Department; Mr. R. S. Johnson; and Mr. John Schwarz. Bravura plans one more supplement to Telescope this semester and will have another at the first of next year. The date is still tentative.
All ASB offices with the exception of Freshman Class officers will be filled by a general election to be held on Friday, May 24, the Student Activities office·announced Friday. Any student interested in running for ASB office or Sophomore Class offices, AMS, AWS, Commissioner of Athletics, or representative at large, can obtain a petition in the student Activities office today. Petitions must be completed and turned in by Friday, May 17. To be eligible for offices a student must be a member of the ASB of Palomar College and have an overall gradepoint of 2.5 in not less than twelve units of previous college studies. For Freshman Class offices a student must have fewer than 28 units to be deemed a freshman. 'Freshman class elections will be held at the beginning of the Fall semester. The offices up for grabs include: ASB president; ASB vicepresident; ASB secretary; and four representatives at large. Also: AMS offices; AWS offices; Sophomore class offices; and The Commissioner of Athletics. The petitions will require signatures of one-tenth of the student body for all offices. To be eligible to vote a student must be a member of the Palomar College student body and present his ASB card at the polls when obtaining a ballot. Balloting booths will be located in front of the Student Union between 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. To be elected a student must poll at least fifty percent of the ballots cast. If there is not a clear majority, fifty percent of the ballots cast, a runoff will be held the following week. Installation of officers will be held on Wednesday, May 29, at the Awards and Recognitions Banquet in the Student Union.
Sport Banquet To Feature Utah Coach Jack Gardner, head basketball coach at the University of Utah, has accepted an invitation to be the guest speaker at the third annual Palomar College "All Sports Banquet," sponsored by the Associated Student Body, Women ' s Recreation Association and the Comet Booster Club, to be held Tuesday night, May 21, at the college. During Gardner's last nine years at Utah, he has won more games than any other major college basketball coach in the United States. In 26 years of coaching, including a stint at Kansas State, Gardner has produced 14 championship clubs. In 11 of the past 15 years Gardner's teams have been ranked among the top 10 teams in the nation. In 1960, when Ohio State captured the NCAA title, Gardner's Utah team knocked them off earlier in the season. Palomar athletes from all sports will be honored at the banquet, according to program co-chairmen Ward (Rusty) Myers and Joe Brennan. Most valuable and other awards will be made in football, basketball, track, baseball, cross country, golf, wrestling, tennis and intra-murals. Reservations for the banquet may be made through the Palomar College Switchboard, 7441150or727-7529.
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Telescope
EDITORIAL
There is an election forthcoming. That is not news in a sense but there are some facts that the student should be acquainted with. There is an ASB council to be elected. An ASB council is the voice of the student. A feeble voice maybe, but still a voice that is supposedly representative of the student. The ASB council is the student in all extracurricular activities and planning. The ASB council and student government of Palomar College is your government. To ask the student to vote is not what this space is being used for. Someone will be elected if only one person votes and it has been found through previous experiences that the right to vote in a school election is treated lightly anyway. Sure, a student will vote if he stumbles upon a ballot box on election day and happens to recognize what it is, and if they can make an 'X'. No, the student vote is not the problem. The real problem is the candidates, or lack of same. Few students turn out to vote but even fewer in proportion run for office. Is there a plague associated with student offices? Are students afraid that their friends will call them status seekers or social climbers? Is a place on the ASB council reserved only for members of cliques and bourgeois fops? Where are your backbones? The more students that actively engage in student government by being candidates the better the quality of representation. If qualified students, by qualified it is meant a student with an active interest in the betterment of school activities and with a will to work, would only consider the thought of running for school office rather than sitting back and watching. Is it apathy? Whatever it is this should sound reasonable. The more candidates on the ballot the higher the quality of the candidacy. This is going on the assumption that rather than picking the lesser of the two evils, a genuine popular choice will emerge from the fray. No, we are not urging the masses to consider putting their names on the ballot merely for the sake of having the numbers. Quality must not be sacrificed for quantity but can there not be a quantity of quality? Can there not be an active interest in student government from both the standpoint of voting and candidacy? Must there be a seperation of the two? Can there not be a large turnout of voters to select their choice from a crammed ballot? It is up to the students in both respects. If the number of students on the ballot remains low or gets lower you may find this question being asked: Are you voting more and enjoying it less?
GUEST EDITORIAL Last Wednesday's Palomar Student Forum on censorship gradually evolved (as forums must) to specific areas of college publications at Palomar. In the passing of issues of freedom of the college press it became clear that Palomar publications have gone through a major stage of transition in the past two years. A former editor of this newspaper suggested that the "resignation of three editors" this year was due to a so-called "lack of editorial freedom." He failed to mention that some members of this year's editorial staff have only recently renewed interest in journalism because of greater editorial priviledges available in the new Telescope and Focus. Whichever of these opinions is correct, it is obvious that there has been a transition. Where, in the past, the newspaper and magazine were productions of an highly limited group which planned all pages of publications and wrote articles to conform with personal ideals, the new productions are products of several independent editors with individual page rights and ideals. The editor-in-chief of Telescope and Focus (Jane Gair and Clayton Sketoe) are now exercising only the powers of quality control. Thus it is believed that recent issues of the Telescope, and the upcoming Focus, give much more to the entire student body, at much higher quality, than any publications produced here in the last two years. The Telescope now includes greater general news coverage, greater variety and superior quality of design, a better sounding board for ideas and programs of obscure student groups, and a more freely operated editorial page. Focus will be a clear attempt at an all-inclusive quality magazine of generally high journalistic standards. Thus a transition has been made; it is good that this could be brought up in forum, for students to be aware of. Now that there is this awareness the student body can examine publications at Palomar and determine ifthere has been an improvement. Dick Tarquinio
The Telescope is the official publication of the Associated Students of Palomar College, San Marcos, California. Telephones : 744-1150 (Escondido area) and 727-7529 (Vista area). The paper is produced by students and published Mondays during the school year. Opinions expressed in this newspaper reflect those of the writers and not necessarily those of the college or of its students. Letters to the editor are welcome; however the editors reserve t he right to cut letters to suit space. All letters of this nature must be signed.
Jane Gair .. . ... .. .. . .. . .......... . . ... .. ........ ... Acting Editor Anthony Atkinson, Lenna Carpentier, Doug Smith, Pat Watson, Clayton Sketoe, Dick Tarquinio .. ....... . ....... ....... ..... Editorial Staff LaRue Pfeiffer and Tom Gable . . ......... .. . ...... .... . . . . Page One Donna Rosen and Terry Fowler ......................... Page Two Diane Lichtenberger ...................... . ........... Page Three Tom Saxe ... ........ .......... . ....... ........... Sports Editor Gloria Wiencek .................... ..... ...... . ... Business Manager
May 13,1963
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Palomar Takes Top Prizes In S.M. Quail Contest Art students from Palomar College were awarded the top two prizes in the recent ceramic quail contest, sponsored by Frazar Brothers, Inc., developers of the Lake San Marcos. Bill Carmichael from Palomar won first prize of $100. Con Slack of Palomar was awarded third prize of$50. Art students from Vista, Poway, Escondido, San Marcos, Oceanside, Carlsbad, and San Dieguito, as well as art students from Palomar College, were given a set of three ceramic quail to color and fire in their school kilns. The sets of quail were maee from the master molds taken from the original set of three bronze quail which are part of the Lake San Marcos emblem located on the mail entrance-way to the new community. Over 150 sets of three quail were given to the many students. In addition to the first three prizes, a best-of-school prize of $25 was awarded to a student in each of the schools participating in the contest. Bob Mix was the winner from Palomar College. Some 32 purchase awards of $10 each were also given to students as runner up prizes. All of these prize winning ceramic quail will be permanent features on the exterior and interiors of buildings in the Lake San Marcos shopping area. All of these ceramics are on exhibit daily, free to the public, at the Lake San Marcos Sales Office on Rancho Santa Fe Road near the corner of Encinitas Road, in San Marcos. The contest was judged by Irwin Fox ofBlurock and Ellerbroek, Architects: Frank J. Vecchio of the advertising firm of Hogan & Vecchio; Ramon Rice of Thomas Furst Associates, and Sandra Lumsden of Frazer Bros., Inc.
Sigma Omicron In The Swing Of Activities During the past school year, Sigma Omicron has supported and participated in many activitie on campus and in the community. The purpose of the women's service club is to encourage more active participation of women students in campus and community activities. Qualifications for membership in Sigma Omicron are: you must be a women student with an ASB card and maintain a 2.0 grade point average. Officers for this past spring semester are as follows: Jean McPherson, president; Vicki Saunders, vice-president; Karen Ruskin, recording secretary; Jeannie Jennings, corresponding secretary; Sue Nelson, treasurer; June Tsutsumi, historian. One of the more recent activities of the club was the annual Senior Girl's Tea, which was held May 8. This was the first time Sigma Omicron sponsored the activity. A fashion show and variety of entertainment were presented. During the fall semester, the girls served on the Homecoming committee and sponsored Nancy Hanks for Homecoming Queen. The Mother and Daughter Fashion Show was co-sponsored by A WS and Sigma Omicron. The Bohemian Fling, the dance which ended Men's week, was also sponsored by Sigma Omicron. Members of the club also volunteered themselves as slaved for Men's Week. In addition the Club worked in connection with other organizations for the Bond Issue. Between the semesters the girls held an Initiation Tea for new members and the new advisor, Dean Jones, who replaced Miss Rieser. An Installation and Awards Banqu t will be held on May 25, at Vacation Village. At this time the new officers for the fall semester will be installed. from two faculty members stating that they would be unable to accept contracts for next year. They were Stuart Carter, football coach and physical education instructor, who is returning to the San Francisco Bay area, and George Bell of the physics department. The board approved reemployment rontracts for 58 faculty members.
Student Forum 2nd Meeting (Continued from Page 1)
Winners of the Ceramic Quail Contest Left to right are Sandra Gardner, San Marcos High; Con Slack, Palomar College; and Bill Carmichael, Palomar College.
Palomar College trustees took a first-hand look at the electronic wonders of the modern academic world Wednesday when they "toured" the mathematics and engineering classrooms under guidance of four professors. Board members viewed operations of complex physics, electronic and electrical equipment which in comparatively recent years has become essential installations in college classrooms. Demonstrations of these facilities and teaching procedures for training mathematicians, engineers and scientists of the
future were given by various instructors. Board members in the "tour" party were Dr. Tipton L. Wood, board president; trustees James W. Sutton, Morse Olmstead, and Mrs. Eleanor Beemer, and trustee-elect Dr. Richard Loomis. The trustees examined architect's preliminary plans for proposed enlargement of the college library to meet anticipated enrollment increase by 1965-66. Tentative plans call for an enlarged reading room, increased book space and 3,600 square feet of enlargements to two wings of the present building
College instructors, according to Mr. Schwarz, must maintain a corporate image. Instructors must be careful about expressing opinions about things like atom bomb testing, the House Un-American Activities Committee, or about ordering books for school libraries. Many English teachers, in many colleges, must be careful about ordering major literary works, like Allen Ginsburg's Howl or Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer. The discussion of these various censorships finally narrowed down to censorship of student publications at Palomar. In this area, some students suggested that too much censorship was being exercised on this year's publications. Others, while deploring any real censorship, believed that a great deal of freedom is available on Palomar publications and that, when the censorship priviledge has been evoked, it was becau. of a clear and present danger of the community; it was agreed that the community holds the entire college responsible for the opinions of a student editor. This entire situation was felt to be unfortunate and the forum seemed to agree that publications at Palomar should work, in transition, to a totally free format.
Bravura, May 13, 1963
BRA\lURA LITERARY SUPPLEMENT TO THE TELESCOPE
Oh. Wind. A-Blowing Outside the wind was slapping against the fine homes along Ocean Boulevard. Jenny heard it say: "Oh, youuu." Up in her room, under a hill of pink satin comforter, Jenny tried the exercise again. Relax - first the head, the neck, the left arm, the right arm, the chest, down, down to each tense toe, one at a time, the way Doctor Weild had explained. Let go. Melt Surrender. Give yourself to the bed as though you loved it It was no use. Her body felt as stiff as concrete, concrete which had been set for forty-two years. Her pale, startled eyes looked at the clock again. It was still only five minutes past one. She made a croaking sound which said, "oh, damn." Then she sat straight up in bed. You sound as though nothing mattered, she told herself. Did nothing matter? Was life such a cold, crooked joke? She let herself fall back. "Now look, Jenny," she said aloud. "There is no alternative. You simply must pull yourself together." In the next room her mother had heard her voice. "Is Papa there, dear?" she called. "He'll be along soon, Mama," Jenny said. Mama can't you somehow realize that papa is dead, dead? Five years. Dead. Finished. Outside the wind said: "Oh, youuu." The clock on the dressing table said seven minutes past one. This is the way Mama started going down hill. But it's different with me. With me, it's only the wind. It stirred up everything inside of her. It made her think of John. It uncovered everything she had missed. What had she missed? And the wind, as though it had heard, ran away for a moment, and she could hear the sea, sighing, sighing. Jenny sighed. One ten. At two o'clock the hour would be over. In fifty minutes she could get up. If she counted to sixty fifty times, it would be time to get up. One, two .. She cleared her t-hroat as though a cold, crooked joke had lodged there. One, two .. . First give up your head, then your neck, left arm ... The wind said: "Oh, youuu." The poem said, "Oh, wind a-blowing all day long ... " Robert Louis Stevenson had said, "Oh, wind a-blowing all day long." The wind had blown a bird about the sky. You can be positive about the wind, too. You can pretend you like it. Listen to the wind a-blowing, Mama. Listen, Marcia. Isn't it nice? All blowy and nice. Be positive. When a negative thought comes into your mind, replace it quickly and firmly with a positive thought ... She concentrated upon the house sounds - Ida's vacuum cleaner snuffling among the big mahogony furniture downstairs, her mother's voice in the next room, reading aloud to a dead man. Her mother's voice sounded as flat as a stuck organ key. Someone had gone away and left one note pressed down. Well, if no one else appreciated you, Jenny, Papa did, and she saw a sudden picture of the house without her. There were tin-cans on the floor, and dust corrupting Papa's fine old furniture. Papa wanted to die knowing Mama was safe, didn't he? He wanted to know Marcia had a home to which she could return after her awful marriages. You wouldn't go running off with a dark, handsome moustache when your duty was here, would you? I wish I could remember your face, John. I try to see your face, and all I have left is your moustache. There is only a moustache ... Sixteen minutes past one. I am now going to get hold of myself. Think nice though\s. "I may not be a psychiatrist," Doctor Weild said, "but I can recognize tension when I see it. This time I'm ordering you to relax, Jenny." "Relax?" "Relax," said Doctor Weild. "I don't know the word, Doctor. I have important things to do which no one else can do." Doctor Weild kept arranging the hairs of his moustache-a moustache which was neither dark nor handsome, but white with streaks of yellow, as though he had eaten mustard for lunch, and had forgotten to wipe his mouth. "A Mil town and a nap after lunch. An hour at least." Jenny snorted. "And where will I find time for that nap, Doctor?" "Doctor's order," Dr. Weild smiled. "And, Jenny, your mother won't be around forever. Why don't you find some new interests- raise orchias,- take up ou painting- something your very own." Take up oil painting! Raise orchids! The old fool! She saw herself in a wide straw hat. She was with a group of ladies who were always painting pictures beside the road. They always looked like the same ladies. They always wore straw hats which were tied down with bright scarves. Each lady stared at her easel as though
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This supplementary edition of BRAVURA is the first of its kind to be published for Palomar College students. BRAVURA originated last year as a literary magazine, but a meager budget limited distribution. This year, with more money, yet not enough to supply each student with a full-sized literary magazine, editors decided to publish .~ less costly literary supplement, copies of which are available to all students at Palomar. This first supplementary edition will be followed by another in a later edition of the Telescope this semester.
Story by Josephine Buehler Illustration by John Brennick
Bravura, May 13, 1963
Pa e4
Oh, Wind, A-Blowing _cont.
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For God's Sake Play Your Cards by Josephine Buehler
she were painting the most important picture in the world. "Ob, youuu," said the wind. Two twenty. Someone was tiptoeing past her door. Ida and her heavy, swaying walk. She was tapping on Marcia's door across the ball. Marcia answered with the Louisiana drawl which she kept for men. Herbert bad arrived. Marcia and her new Herbert, driving off in the blowy day. It wasn't fair. There she was, going from one husband to the next as gayly as if she were changing waltz partners. Always leaving Jenny behind-to give-to be the one who always slaved over the refreshments, but never had time to sit down and eat. I must think kind thoughts, Jenny whispered. But where did you go that day, my John, when you went down the walk with your head bent down, down. Marching, marching as though you had joined a funeral procession. There was a wind that day, too. I stood on the porch, holding down my dress. My heart ... I could put my heart into my paintings. All great artists put their hearts into their paintings ... The wind said: "Ob, oh, youuu." The clock said one-thirty. "Doctor Weild," she said aloud, "my life is my own. If I do not wish to rest after lunch, it is my own business!" "Is Papa there, dear?" Jenny called back the same answer she always called back. "He'll be along soon, Mama." Always the same answer. Always, my dear, prying Doctor, and if you insist upon finding a consuming interest, I'll think about painting lessons. Think, mind you. And now, with your permission, I shall go downstairs and attend to my business. And Jenny got out of bed. Downstairs Ida was dusting the living room which had been dusted once before that day. Jenny stood in the doorway and watched Ida's big pink hands skate back and forth across the gleaming table top. Back and forth- big pink hands skating and skating across mahagony ice to the time of Ida's singing. "Holy, holy, ho-o-ly," Ida sang. "Not much use dusting," Ida said, looking up and skating, skating. "Not on one of these here days." "No," said Jenny, "It's pretty futile." Ida scrubbed her hands on the dust cloth. "Reminds you of something sneaking up. I dusts one table, turns my back, and when I looks around, it's all dusty again. Like something sneaking up." Ida glanced over her shoulder and laughed at the joke she saw sneaking up. "Sneaking up," Jenny said. Yes, something sneaking up. Sneaking up. I'd like to run away from it, away inside of myself to a silent, windless place. Where no one could find me. Give myself to silence. "Sneaking up," Ida said again, laughing at the joke. Jenny twisted her lips into a smile. "Something sneaking up," she said. She tried to laugh. The laugh caught in her throat. If something is sneaking up on Ida, she doesn't really care, she thought. She is insensitive, but she is happy. Ida is happy. I am not happy. Ida has nothing in this world but an ugly little house which really isn't hers, a few dowdy clothes, a little money which wouldn't last long if she were unable to work. But she is happy. I have a fine home. I could have anything I wanted if I wanted something. But I am not happy. Why is that? "Ida!" Jenny's sharp voice sliced across Ida's humming. Ida dropped her dust cloth. When she stood up again, her fat mouth was parted. "Why, yes, Miss Prior." "Ida, are you happy?" "Why, sure. I sure am, Miss Prior." "I don't mean happy working for us, but just happy. Happy all of the time- wherever you are." Ida was making a bubbling sound which was the beginning of a laugh, but Jenny saw the fear in her eyes. "Why, sure, Miss Prior. I always says no use letting trouble get you by the tail." "I mean happy all of the time, Ida. All of the time!" "Why sure. I'm happy day and night. I sure wish you'd rest more, Miss Prior. Take it easy. Look how Miss Marcia takes it easy. You ought to have gentlemen friends like your sister. Pretty yourself up." "Why are you happy, Ida? Can you tell me why you're happy?" They both turned to look at the east windows where the wind was prying. Pretty myself up. She saw the face in the mirror over the mantle. An abstract face, the kind of tragic face she might enjoy painting were she to paint. A self-portraitof Jenny Prior. A mouth, thin as a pin. A bald, shiny forehead. Shiny eyes that would not blink. Putty colored braids wrapped around her head, ready to fall down. Something was wrong with that face. She bent up the pin into a smile. That face had no dash. Something was lacking. It was like cereal without salt. Perhaps Ida was right. It needed to be prettied up. Get rid of the braids. John had liked the braids ... "Ida, why are you happy?" Jenny said again. "I don't know. I really and truly don't, Miss Prior." "There's always a reason, Ida. A reason for everything, Ida." Every effect has a cause. There has to be a reason- for everything. "Maybe it's just because I am. Or maybe it's because the Lord looks after me. Yes, I guess that's it all right. Guess I ought to dust the dining room. Sure looks awful. " "What would you rather have-more than anything else-anything in the world? If you could have a choice
-anything- what would it be, Ida?" "You mean like a present? You mean like someone gave me something?" The pin of her mouth was bent up. "Yes," Jenny said, "like a present- a very wonderful present." Ida straightened the white rag which she had tied around her head. "A present? My, I don't know. Guess I'd have to dream on that one." "If I said to you, 'Ida, you may have anything you want -anything. lf, I said, Ida, it's-well, it's Christmas. I'm going to give you a Christmas present now. Would you want something?" I've caught her now. She's thought of something she wants. Ida was smiling. "Why sure. I'd sure like something." "Speak up, Ida! What is it-anything. Say I'm like God. I can give you anything-a million dollars. You can be a famous artist. A beautiful home-with servants. A husband-a good husband ... " "Oh, Lord, no, Miss Prior, not a husband! I already had a husband once! I'd appreciate almost anything but a husband!" Jenny pulled at her fingers and waited for Ida to stop her ridiculous laughter. "Ida, I mean it! Anything! Anything! I'm serious, Ida!" Am I the only one who wants something? "Anything, Miss Prior?" "Anything!" "I tell you one thing that's caught my eye, though I'm sure not one to ask." "What is it, Ida?" Jenny's fingers sounded as if they were breaking bits of dry wood. "Yes, Ida?" "I'm not one to ask, but you're asking me, aren't you, Miss Prior?" "I'm asking, Ida. Tell me. Tell me at once." "It's that old coat with the fur collar in the cedar closet. You haven't bad that old coat on your back in three years, and I sure had my eye on that coat ... " "Is that coat the only thing you want?" Jenny cried out. "Think, Ida, think!" Ida puckered her lips as though she were thinking. The wind said, "Oh, youuu." Jenny's fingers made dry, cracking sounds. "You may have the coat, Ida," Jenny said. "I didn't want that coat. Why should I give Ida a coat which I want? "I'm sure happy about that. I'll wear that old coat to church. I'll tell the Lord to make you feel better. I's sure grateful about that." But Jenny had gone. She was standing behind the back screen door. The wind sieved through the screen and touched her face-a dry wind which promised no rain. She could hear Ida singing. "Holy, holy, ho-o-ly .. ." She is taking advantage of me. I want that coat. I won't give her that coat ... "Get hold of yourself, Jenny," she said aloud. If you let yourself go like this, you'll be like Mama." She made her lips smile. She stepped out on the back porch. "I will think positive thoughts," she said. The young cypress were wagging back and forth like happy dog tails. Happy, happy. Why is Ida happy? "Ferrin," she called. "Why didn't you tie up the cypress?" Ferrin did not hear her. He was standing by the garage, examining something which be held in his band. "Ferrin," she called again. Ferrin glanced at her, then looked away. He put his hand inside his jacket; the other one was sharpening the lawnmower. The sound of file against blade came across the -lawn brokenly. He was niding somethingsomething which be did not want her to see. "Ferrin, shouldn't those cypress be tied?" she called. Her voice sounded like a file against a blade. The wind blew it around her in sharp pieces. Someone was cooking fish. Next door Mrs. Gasper was cooking fish for her cats. The smell came brokenly. The sound of the sea came brokenly, brokenly . . . You're right, Doctor Weild. These people are consuming me. I need an interest. A consuming interest. "Ferrin!" Ferrin stood up and half faced her, his hidden hand turned away from her. His dark face was frightened. "Whatja say?" "I said, shouldn't the cypress be tied?" "Naw. I'll tie them if you want, but they're okay.' ¡ How silly this was- yelling across the yard like two deaf people. She held down her skirt, and went down the walk towards him. Ferrin had turned his back to her. He was walking away-walking away with his hand hidden under his jacket. "Ferrin," she cried, "look at me!" Ferrin stopped. He turned and faced her. Ferrin stared at the bulge where his hand was hidden. The wind said, "Oh, youuu." "You're hiding something from me," Jenny said. They're all hiding something from me-taking advantage .. _ Ferrin would not look at her. He would not answer. "What have you stolen, Ferrin?" "It's not yours," Ferrin said. "Give it back to me. At once!" "It's not yours," Ferrin said. "Give it back to me!" Ferrin was watching her face. He was afraid. He brought out his hand as he came up to her. "Here," he said. Jenny put out her hands to take what he was returning. "A bird! It's a bird!" She almost let it fall. "It's hurt," Ferrin said. "It's one of those birds that have been building their
You wet your fingers on your tongue, And two-thirds of all the people in the night Are dull pupils learning empty stomachs; And people, all around us in the dark, Are praying stale prescriptions for salvations As you lick your fingers with your tongue. For God's sake! Play! In the north Atlantic I, mouth of water, Am drinking down a ship; I, volcano, Am graving a sleeping town in ashes; I, live murderer, in my final cell, Am glaring at dead angers, as, one by one, I watch your fingers wade across your tongue. For God's sake! Play! Around us the silence knocks on the quick As a thousand people die every second, As your tongue gloves every finger tip Before, at last they take up gardening Behind a fence of cards .......... _..
..........................., ........ . ForGod~s
sake! Play!
An Occasional Brightness by Anthony F. Heller
I live, Gathering lights In darkness, Fusing them in fire With moments of the mind. I sometimes see The tide surge, and Beauty flows, Sheets up As if from fountains, Scatters Like falling light In darkness.
The Duchess and the Plumber's Helper by Josephine Buehler
The Duchess has died her hair yellow And married the plumber's helper. One is only as young as one feels, Cellos the Duchess behind plumped up pillows. Only as young as one feels, Only as young as one feels young. And the guileless breeze plunks her chins As they go strolling on in the summer sun. And one can be old at thirty, And one can be young at sixty. And the Duchess leans on the limp little plumber As they go strolling on In the summer sun, in the guileless breeze.
The Judas Wall by Joan B. Ramsey
Eleven men bad gathered In a room beneath the ground "Who killed this boy?" they asked. "We'll plant flowers," they said. "And lay a barbed wire cross upon his mound. The world should know that Love of freedom took his Breath. We must profit from his death." The room is empty and quiet now. The flowers dead. The cross of rust has broken. Only the wall remams Casting its shadow on us all.
Bravura LITERARY SUPPLEMENT TO THE TELESCOPE
editors glenn a. duncan kathleen e. larisch
advisor robert s. mikkelsen Note. BRAVURA is aided by an advisory council of three instructors. Only one of these instructors is "on duty" during production of a single edition of the literary supplement. The other two instructors are John M. Schwarz and RichardS. Johnson.
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Bravura, May13, 1963
Oh, Wind, A-Blowing con
, , ,
Eve of St. George by Kathy Miller
450A.D.
nests in the hanging baskets." "Yah," said Ferrin. "I told you to get rid of them." · "I found it behind the garage," Ferrin said. "It was hurt." "John-a friend of mine used to call them linnets." "It'll die," Ferrin said, and he touched its head. "It's hurt pretty bad." "It's hurt," Jenny said. It was warm inside her hands. She could feel its heart beat. It felt like a child's rattle deep inside her hands. "You oughtn't to hurt it any more. It'll die anyways." "I don't like birds," Jenny said to her hands, "but I won't hurt you, bird. It likes me," she said to Ferrin. "If you don't want it," Ferrin said, "let it go. It'll die anyways." "But I do want it. Don'tyou want it, Ferrin?" She held the bird against her, as though Ferrin might change his mind. She made a little jail of her fingers, and peeked through the bars. "Isn't he cute- pathetic. He feels safe in my hands." "It'll die," Ferrin said. "It's hard to make wild birds live." Ferrin was walking away. "I'll make it live," Jenny
called after him. "I'll make it live." Ferrin would not look back. Jenny felt the rough feathers scratch against her fingers. Then the bird settled down in its new nest. "He's happy now," Jenny said. "You don't mind living now, do you? I'll take you to the best vet in town." "Miss Prior," Ida was mlling from the back porch. "Your sweater. You oughtn't to be walking around in this wind undressed like that." Ida held up Jenny's grey sweater. It flapped like a flag in the wind. "I'm coming in, Ida," Jenny called against the wind. "I'm coming, Ida. I'll put you in a nice, clean cage with paper on the bottom,'' she whispered to her hands. Mama used ·to like birds. Perhaps she will remember what birds like to eat. She held her careful hands out in front of her. "You oughtn't to go out without your sweater, Miss Prior. I had a friend once ... " "Look, Ida, a bird. It's hurt-terribly hurt, poor little thing. Look, Ida,'' and she opened the bars of her fingers wider and wider, laughing a little at the bird's content. Then she wiped her poisoned hands along the sides of her dress. The bird made a slapping sound as it fell at her feet.
A Pi~turg of Jang by Clayton Sketoe The naked light bulb glared, glared. Townsend haunched on the "milking stool." He shivered in the warmth of the stale light. The heat drew beads of sweat from his forehead. They dripped from his chin. His hand moved mechanically up and around his face as though waking from a deep sleep. The moistured hand pressed over his reddened eyes. The lids shut tightly. His head throbbed. He nearly fell from the stool. A key turned in the lock of the door. He jerked upright and dried his face with a tattered rag. The door swung open. The starch-drenched uniform fitted the doorway. It stepped into the room. The door swung closed and the lock clicked. He could not see the man's face. The light blinded him. "Well, Major Townsend, shall we give it another go? All you have to do is sign the statement. It's only a little thing. No earth-shaking consequences. And then we'd let you get a little sleep. How about it?" The appealing voice sounded oddly sincere. Townsend heard the crackling of fresh paper and the click of a pen. He shook his head wearily. "Come, now, Major. It's only a piece of paper. You can repudiate it after the war. What have you got to lose? Nothing. As a matter of fact, you have everything to gain: sleep, food, everything. We'll even move you out of this rat-hole." "I won't sign." "Would you mind telling me why, Major?" Townsend's parched, cracked lips parted. "I've already told you." "Yes, yes. That's so. But I want you to tell me again." "No." "Well, never mind. I know. Tell me, Major, if I can show you that you won't hurt anyone, not even yourself, would you sign then?" "What do you mean?" "Look, if there is no good reason for not signing, and a good reason for signing, you should, shouldn't you?" Townsend mumbled. "Yeah. I guess so." "Ah, now we're getting somewhere. First of al1, Major, it wouldn't hurt the other prisoners. How could it? It's your statement, not theirs. We're not asking for military information. We have an ample set-up for that. All we want you to do is to state that you believe in helping us. And that they should do the same. No harm can come to you or the others." "I won't sign." "But, Major. It won't hurt you, will it?" ''No."
"And it won't hurt your friends, will it?" Townsend shook his head. "All right then. Sign." Townsend sat straight. "No." But, you've just admitted that there is no reason at all for not signing. Didn't you?" "Yes." "Then why won't you sign?" Townsend lowered his head and shoulders. "The other reason. Let's look at your other reason. Here. Take it." A worn wallet was thrust into the light. It was opened to show a small picture. Townsend stared at it. "Go on, take it. It's your last argument." Townsend slowly took the wallet. Jane seemed to ' come alive for him. Her eyes twinkled, and her parted lips seemed to call him. "Major? You aren't protecting her by refusing. You're really hurting her. Yes, hurting. " Townsend looked up. "If you don't sign, you stay here- you just might not make it out of this place. And then where are you? Or should I say, where is she? Alone, fending for herself, an easy prey for certain, uh, criminal types. Is this
what you are protecting her from? You're actually hurting her. Admit it. You are, aren't you?" Townsend lowered his head. "Well, Major? Are you doing it for that?" "No." "Why then? To protect her from me and my country? We don't want your country. All we are doing is helping some of our friends. The same as you. Are you trying to hurt my country? Of course not. You're just obeying orders to aid a common ally. If we're out to enslave the world, your actions prove you are too. We're based on the same principles. And since you aren't out to do that, neither are we. Isn't that right?" "I ... I don't know." "You're here to help a friendly nation. Right?" "Yeah." "Well, so are we. That puts us here for the same purpose. Right?" "I guess so." "Guess? Don't you know. It is the same purpose, isn't it?" "Well, yes, but ... " "No buts, Major. It's the same purpose. And what is that purpose? Is it to enslave the enemy's families? You can answer that. If the purposes are the same, and you just said they are, then you should be out to do it too. Are you?" "No." "Then how can you say we are out to do the same? We're here for the same reasons. You said so. You aren't here for that purpose, so neither are we. Correct?" "Yeah." "So, there's no reason for not signing. Is there? It won't hurt you or your friends. And it won't hurt your family. There's no reason then, is there?" Townsend gave a reluctant "no". "Remember, Major, I said if there was no reason for not signing, and a reason for signing, you should? And you agreed? Well, there's no reason for not signing. And if you do sign, we'll move you out of here. You'll get sleep, food, and maybe we'll even trade you for some of our own men. Then you'll get to go home and see her. Look in your lap. There's the best reason in the world for signing. Here's the pen." Townsend looked at the wallet. He fingered it lightly. The pen protruded from the outstretched hand! and the paper lay under it. Townsend reached up and held them. The pen in his right hand, and the paper in his left. He still looked at the wallet. The lock clicked, and the door swung open. A bigger man came in. "Well? Almost finished?" "Yes, Comrade. He's going to sign now. It took more than I thought." A disgusted grunt came out. "Oh? Really?" Before an answer could be made, Townsend rose half-blind, and bolted for the door. He pushed the bigger man aside and ran to his left. He stumbled, but regained his balance and ran. Behind him he heard voices and ... The warmth in his back felt good as he fell. The men reached him. Townsend looked up. "It would hurt her. It would." The wallet dropped from his hand. "He was going to sign I tell you. He was. You didn't have to kill him. He was going to sign." "Was he? Drag it out."
Watch for the next BRAVURA
The satisfied flesh of a drunken hand Dawdles with a heavy grape-gilded stem From the silver bowl to the silver rim Its purple measure brims With dark, sweet violet pleasures And maidens await the sensuous sweep Of headlong worship in Bacchus' grasp. 1850A.D.
A pale red blush In the crystalline curves Swept to lips in the velvet hush, In the tapestried night, In the strong scarlet light Raised in its elegant, gra_c eful etchings Raised as the great clock tells its falls Flung and shattered in the soft-glowing ashes, In the ruby-flushed jewels of vermillion coals.
A Blind Man's Cane by R. Vinzant
It's true we blind Men Have eyes that live alone, But no white wooden hand can hone the other four. This wooden stick will leave a calloused palm Or a virgin-being too sad and sensitive to liveThough young or feeble, They gain no sight through the vision of a crutch. This pallid staffniaynold the snake a space apart But his fangs would only pierce the flesh; It's the holy venoms Which dull our thoughts, Dilute our deeds, And leave us to exist So, I come to steal a blind man's cane ... That he might see again.
Untitled by Beverly White
And we walked, Heandl, In Uie unlived day And saw: upon a leaf So smooth and rich Of deepest green, A pearl of dew Which mirrored a rainbow Somewhere far away. The Sun's waking rays Became full, warm, To simmer the earth's Stinging smell; As we walked Up and down the Brown slopes Of forest hills, Crunching curled colored lea Vt!S Of orange and gold Under barefeet. Nearly weary We rested, To quench our minds And refresh in the awe About us, Of a secret ferned valley; As the hours diminished Of day. The smoky gray of Evening air was settling Its moisture For the thirst of the Sun touched tree tops; Careful not to heavy hang, To rain and rustle All the bending, swaying Ferns, of delicate lace. And we walked on, He and I, Sensing, now, the Unstilled murmuring life Of beauty shared. We were life. He took my hand.
Again This Spring by Josephine Buehler
Again this spring, the wood is wife to the sun· The melting heart of the pond is the lover ' Of homesick geese; the rain, the soil are one Within the sap, and over and over The living relive themselves. But who am I, Sad applauder of spring, Who am I?
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Bravura, May 13, 1963
by Bill Cartwright And then, at last, a green pick-up clattered through the heat waves, veered to the right, slowed, and rolled over the crushed sea-shells on the shoulder of the highway. Shaun sighed, grabbed his suitcase, and ran awkwardly into chalky clouds of dust (raised by the old truck) toward an opened door. The suitcase banged against his leg; sweat-beads formed droplets and streaked through the dust on his face. As he mn past the bed of the truck, he smelled its stuflY exhaust and remembered the many trucks, cars, and busses that had swished past The drivers bad shrugged shoulders, pointed fingers, or turned heads to the left so as to cruise by apparently ignorant of the stranded boy. Shaun knew their reasons. He, too, had read of atrocities committed by hitchhikers. He understood this. Even so, a frustrated disappointment filled his chest at the passing of each car-each with its own rude brand of exhaust mixed in with its private gale of bot air. Shaun felt his sweaty resentment evaporate as he climbed up onto the tattered leather seat of the truck. "How far's you goin', boy?" a big and wrinkled Negro asked. "Charleston, South Carolina," replied Sbaun between breaths. "Ab's only goin' far's de next town. Ya welcome dat far." Shaun nodded his thanks. "You got folks in Char'ston?" asked the Negro, as he ground the floor-shin into low gear. The battered old truck lurched forward, then bounced and rattled back onto the asphalt Shaun delayed his answer until the truck was safely in third. "No. I'm going to Europe. My freighter sails out of Charleston next week." "Is dat so? Mah son's in Germany. In de ahmy. He be back dis Chris'mas, Ah hopes. He likes it just fine." Shaun leaned forward and pulled out the ashtray. He lit his cigarette, then lay back against the seat and looked out at the unfenced landscape. Water stood in dark pools under trees beside the road. Vivid green forests rose up ahead of them, as the road curved and began climbing over the foothills. Looking through the front window of the truck, the future flowed into . an expansive present moment for Shaun. As the truck sped on, he discovered virgin lands, hunted them, hiked over them, camped overnight in then, awoke in the morning with them, and then they flashed by, out of sight, and took residence in his memory. For a moment he despised himself for allowing his imminent rendezvous with the freighter to hurry him. It would be good, he thought, to be alone in the forest, with only matches for security-alone to prove again. He glanced across at the Negro, and noticed his wrinkled cheeks shaking with the truck's vibration. "You from California, boy?" asked the driver, breaking the silence. Startled, Shaun turned his head. "Yes. How d'you know?" "Oh, Ah's gotta way a tellin' . . . by yo clothes, by yo talk, by da tan skin, 'n by de sweat you is pourin' out cuz you ain't used to de climate-all dat sorta things," he smiled. "Used to be de time when Ah could hahdly tell white folks one from de udder. But, now, Ah looks bahder 'n seez mo'." "I have that same problem sometimes with ... Negroes . .. To me, they, I mean, you all, look the same, too." He felt proud for saying what he thought. So proud, in fact, that he considered the possibility of that being the first time. The Negro said nothing for a moment. He looked as if he were trying to decide on something. He turned his head to Shaun, and in a very serious tone of voice, asked, "Does sayin' Negro, 'n talkin' to one like dis make you nervous, boy?" "Yes." Shaun felt his stomach and throat tighten, and he realized that he had never said anything important to a Negro. And, that no Negro had ever said anything important to him. He stared at the big ebony face. The driver met this stare with a calculating glance, then returned his eyes to the highway. A slow, rhythmic nod began moving his head up and down; a smile weaved through the wrinkles. Shaun followed the old Negro's eyes-the color of molasses pouring in front of a light. As he looked hard at the driver, he could imagine those eyes flashing wide with surprise at a cardinal darting among the branches of an elm, or delighting at a new fawn raising its mouth to the breast. He could see theN egro's face laughing with chilluns. That face, that man, he thought, has been around. "Ah knows, boy. Ah knows, and Ah understands. White folks get so used to callin' us niggers when dye's talkin' 'mongst demselves, dat dey plumb forget how to say Negro. And, course, dey don't do too much talkin' with us, either. Dey do mo' talkin' to us. Has you eveh said what you said to me to a Negro before? No, course you ain't. You was too afraid. We's all to damned afraid to talk." Shaun nodded. "I was afraid." "Now, Ah ain't no nigger, butAh knows lotsuvem. And d'you know what, boy? Dey's bof black and white niggers. Ain't de color dat makes em so; it's de attitude. Dey don't wash like men's supposed to; dey don't keep no thin' clean, so course dey smells bad. Dey is folks dat just don't give a damn for nothin'." "I never smelled one," said Shaun. "Dat's cuz you smoke, Ah reckon. A man has got de same nose as a dog, 'ceptin' he don't use it proper. Mah Daddy could sniff a weevil 'n tell ya which county it come from, " he boasted. "Course he lived his whole life in de country. De city confuses de nature of folks." "Can you smell me?" inquired Shaun hesitantly. The driver shifted in the seat, took his right hand from the wheel, and leaned with his left arm on the window, steering with his left hand. "All Ah kin smell is road-dirt 'n sweat, and a little of de ocean. But, ifn we was in a dark room, not sayin' nothin', I could sense datyou was white. "You see, boy, we is not de same like a Iotta highfalutin' folks sez we is. Sho, we's bofmen, and we is born equal in de eyes of God, but we is different kinds of men in de eyes of man. You seez me talkin' to you with dese big lips of mine, and mah nose layin' flat on mah face, and dis kinky, black hair what is turnin' gray?"
A Long Timg Goin Shaun said nothing. He nodded, and leaned forward to flip his ashes in the tray, all the time his eyes fixed on the driver. "Well," continued the Negro, "dese things am different but, dey's not so impo'tant. De mos impo'tant difference am inside. Racin' round mah body, flowin' with de risin' sun is life-fire. Ah feels it, and Ah loves it, and with every drop of dat flowin' fire Ah's gonna live. In de evenin' Ah looks up 'n seez de sun fallin' firey and orange, and Ah looks back at what work Ah's done, and Ah feels de world turnin'. Ah feels a natural part of what's goin' on." "But, when Ah's in de city, Ah feels crowded and small. Ab don't feel an impo'tant part or de world no mo'. Ah just don't matter no mo' to no one. You see, boy, de biggest difference between yo people and mine is time. Les'n two hundred years ago we was stilllivin- in tribes-free 'n natural with the sun. Yo folks has been a thousand years in de city. Dey's used to it City-livin' changes folks; it tames em. It confuses de instinct Why does you think yo Daddy takes a vacation each year?" "To get back to the mountains to hunt and fish," he replied quickly. He understood. ¡ "Das right. City-livin' tames folks, but it can't rob em of what dey loves most, and dat is naturallivin'. Course some folks can't find teir way out of the city; dey gets all confused, and sometimes dey commit suicide. Others can't leave cuz dey loves money; dey is slaves to it. People in de city goin' crazy all de time now. It takes time for folks to live in a city, and it takes longer for dat city-livin' to tame em. "Now, speakin' for de Negro: he is late in comin' to de city, and dis is causin' problems. But, boy, he is late in comin'-nevehmind-he'll be a long time goin'. Ders lotsa negroes comin', and dey ain't stoppin'." Shaun moved on the seat, and lit another cigarette. After the first drag, he lowered it to his lap, and rolled it between his finger and thumb. He watched the smoke twisting upward like white silk, and tried to imagine 'lotsa Negroes comin". He tried to envision 'lotsa' people but the best he could do was a downtown mob. In the darkness of his mind, Shaun recalled peering down that street where the Negroes lived. He remembered the white-haired newspaperman, a torso in a wagon, cautioning him not to go down there. "No Whites walk down that street," he had said. He listened to the old man, but had walked across the inintersection towards the street anyway, knowing he would walk down it. He was afraid, but he had been afraid before-his fear with someone else's reason behind it. Their reasons weren't his. He would see for himself. After all, that was the purpose behind this hitchhiking venture: to see, hear, smell, and taste for himself. No more living by proxy for Shaun. He turned down the street. He had left the brightness of the intersection, and walked into the shadows fostered by the huge, cold marble wall of a department store which occupied the first half of the block. The neon sign on its roof flashed on and off. Shadows drooped and fled. The flashing flood of green neon exposed the first house next to and dwarfed by the immense marble ice cube. Shaun paused. His eyes photographed the weather-cracked paint peeling from the white, withered two story house. Then, at scanning speed, he took in a conglomerate view of the rotting wooden buildings that loomed white and ghostly, along both sides of the street. Each house, in structural form alone hinted of a more glorious and better cared for past. Now they crumbled and decayed, obscured by the sonic boom, the shopping center, and the project home. Front yards had disappeared as streets were widened for traffic; cement slabs lathered shaved gardens, and sidewalks invaded the night-time serenity of the veranda. Shaun turned away from the white house and started to walk on, but bumped into two Negroes. "Excuse me," said Shaun. " Sho, white boy ," they said , and walked away laughing. Farther along, he passed by the open door of a bar. The music was Chubby Checker's, and the dance inside, the twist. Shaun could twist, in fact, he had won a contest back home; but he passed by. The music faded. He crossed another street; his footsteps scuff-clicked on the pavement. Half way into the next block, a dog stirred and growled from a front porch; a pair of eyes looked up; Shaun smiled at the shadows and walked on-his hands clenched tight in his pockets. He looked back and could hardly see the intersection. He had already caught scent of the river, and could sense the tenseness in the neighborhood. He heard the low murmuring above and beside him as he passed. He was there and he wasn't. He imagined the wrinkled hand of Death sliding between his shirt and back-Life and Death were neighbors here, and they both spoke out louder than ever before. The nearer he got to the river, the more humid the air, and the deeper into this street he walked, the more faces he saw staring down at him from balconies, from porches, and through windows. He stopped to pet a dog that had just hopped over the curb from the street. There were two Negro boys sitting, half-lying on the steps behind him. He knew they were there. "Hello, white boy. A little outa y' section, ain'tcha? " one called out. Shaun turned sharply and faced them. A truck shifted gears and roared by close to the curb. Shaun stepped forward. "I don't know. Where's my section?" The smaller one of the two stood up. The other remained stretched out on the steps. They both wore a sinister smile. "Is you from de South, white boy? " asked the one who was lying down. "No. California. Southern California," Shaun grinned. The smaller one descended the steps. "Den dat's yo' section, white boy."
4
Shaun stared straight at the smaller one, who was still taller than he was. "I don't believe in sections." The smaller one turned back to the other. "Say, John, Ah thinks he's one ofdem freedom-riders." They laughed-the same laugh that Shaun had received from the other two up the street. "Is you a freedom-rider, white boy?" the larger one asked. Shaun took out a cirarette, packed it on his thumb, then lit it-all this very slow. He looked up at them. "I'm traveling alone." Then, stepping forward, he held out his hand. "My name's ... " "We don't care nothin' 'bout hearin' no' name,'' the smaller one interrupted. "You just clear out or de section while you still got one, white boy!" Shaun's outstretched hand fell to his side. "It's Shaun, case you ever wonder about it" He turned his back to them and walked on, towards the river. "Hey, white-boy-Shaun, dat is not de way outa de section,'' one of them called. Shaun didn't answer. He continued walking. He remembered the names and insults they had called after him as he walked away. He wasn't afraid anymore, just confused and hurt. Glancing up from the twisting threads of smoke, he caught the driver looking at him. "What's troublin' ya, boy? It must be impo'tant de way yo' forehead was wrinklin'. You hasn't even taken one puff off dat cigarette." "Do you like white men?" "Is dat what was botherin' you, boy?" "Yes.â&#x20AC;˘' "Some. Ah likes some Negroes, too. But, not all. Men is different; each one is different, and partly de same; but, you don't like em for deir sameness. If you like one, it's cuz he's different- you like de difference." "Then people hate the sameness: That's why there is so damn much hate burning up the South. That's why I felt disliked before I met anyone down here ... Negroes, I mean. Sometimes, when I walked along the street, if a Negro came up and asked me for a cigarette, or a quarter, I felt obliged to give it to him. I don't normally give just anybody anything; but, down here, the heart throb of the big problem-integration, I gave anybody anything just to be friendly. Some of them I hated for their arrogance. I gave them a cigarette. I was the nice guy, the phoney chump!" Shaun felt purged. The truck was slowing down to let cattle cross the road. They looked as if they were walking slow just to spite the cars. At a complete stop, the driver, who had been nodding and smiling since Shaun finished, leaned over and asked, "Say, boy, Ah's gettin' plumb disgusted callin' you boy. What's yo' name?" "It's Shaun." "Well, Shaun, mine's Paul, but most de folks 'round dese parts calls me Carbon." "Carbon?" "Yeh, das cuz Ah's so black,'' he laughed. "Got de name whenAh was young. It stuck 'n Ah likes itjes fine." The last plodding cow left the asphalt. Once again the truck lurched forward. After the noise of acceleration Shaun remarked, "You know, of course, that my brothers won't believe that I met a Negro named Carbon." "It don't really matter none whether dey do, or dey don't, do it?" "No, I guess not,'' reasoned Shaun. "Well, Shaun,'' Carbon began, "when Ah looks at de world today, Ah thinks of dis big mountain, so big you can't see de top. And, on dis mountain Ah seez a flat place bout half way up. Der is where we all are. You was born der. Ah calls dat flat place de easy living time of de world. But, we is crowdin' up like sheep, and dat is no good. 'Cuz we is not de same kind of sheep. Some is wilder dan udders. We gotta start climbin' up de mountain again, 'n take some of de pressure offa de cities. "If de bossmen upstairs in de government 'ud just move from dair old oak chairs, and put dis country on de road again, spec'late some, open up new work like tearin' down dese old houses you see passin' us now, maybe even usin' some of dat barren Texas land, dey could forget all about dis miserable inte'gation business. Mixin' is gonna come but it's gonna come slow 'n natural no matter how much fire is built 'round folks. " Shaun had lit another cigarette, and it, too, had a long ash. The feeling of having questions to ask left him. He stretched in the seat, and yawned. Outside, a forest of pole-pines marched into a green and brown blur as they passed. Ahead, the road climbed and crept through a slot gouged in the top; and there, red dirt shown bright beside the asphalt. Once over the top, the road slid into a valley, and a bridge spanned a slow moving river. Willows hung and oaks spread, tresseling the water. He felt certain the fishing would be good in such a river, and dreamed of how he would return one day and build a raft. Carbon straightened in the seat when they entered the outskirts of town, preparing for more serious driving, and, the sunlight made bold relief of the wrinkles in his felt hat. Shaun blinked as the shadows from structures on the roadside became more frequent causing abrupt changes from bright to dark. He read the signboards, all advertising friendly service "just ahead." He , glanced across at Carbon who met his glance with a nodding smile. "Der's a big ole shade-elm at de end of town dat 'ud make a good thumbin' place,'' Carbon projected, then added, "We could stop 'n have ourselves a big, cold choc'let malt, and talk somemo', 'ceptin we'd have to drink em in separate rooms." "That's a lousey, damn deal!" Shaun exclaimed. "Good or bad, das de way things is." "Somebody should do something about it." "Wejes has, Shaun. Wejes has."
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Telescope
May 13, 1963
Page 7
SLAVES, TENNIES, HIGHLIGHT MEN'S WEEK
Fashions and Tea
ESCONDIDO DRIVE-IN Phone SH 5-2331 Sun, Mon & Tues
I PASSED FOR WHITE Plus
FROM HERETO ETERNITY LINDA DPIE ... MODEL Wed, Thurs, Fri, Sat
Palomar's Sigma Omicron and the Faculty Wives Association hosted the annual Seniors Girls Tea Wednesday afternoon, May 8. Senior girls from eight area high schools attended the tea. The girls from eight area high schools attended the tea. The girls began arriving at 1:00. They were given a tour of the campus by guides from Circle K. At 3:30, the tea began with lblksongs by Terry Schwaner and Buck Hyatt. Other entertainment consisted of songs by Ed Guren, Spanish dance by Judit Vergara, and more folksongs by Carol McComb, and
Kathy Larisch. Piano accompaniment was by Steve Hinthorne. Fashions were presentea oy Salm's of Fallbrook and Oceanside. The fashions ranged from the latest in swimwear to casuals and formals. The more than forty outfits were modeled by Karen and Sharon Griffith, Linda Opie, Sandi Thomas, Judy Downing, Sandra Meyer, and Joy and Jackie McCahn. Jean McPhearson , president of Sigma Omicron, acted as the mistress of ceremonies. Mrs. Kenneth Grisingher is president of the Faculty Wives Association which co-sponsored the tea.
MIRACLES OF THE WHITE STALLIONS The BASHFUL ELEPHANT
RITZ THEATRE Phone SH 5-0553 Sun, Mon & Tues
PAPA'S DELICATE CONDITION Jackie Gleason Wed.
VAMONOSPARALA FERIA PLANES SINIESTROS
"'NEW"
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~~ Lowest Prices - E.ast Terms 905 S. Santa Fe, Vista PAlace 4-21 68
Thurs, Fri & Sat
LONELY are the brave BUCK BIDS "69" CENTS
WONDERFUL TO BE YOUNG
Telescope
PageS
Golf Team Hosts Cal Tourney Coach Bob Bowman's PC golfers will host the state junior college championships Monday at Torrey Pines after placing second to powerful Santa Barbara City College in the Conference tourney last Monday on the same layout. SBCC barely nipped the Comets, 804 strokeJ to 814. Antelope Valley (936) rnd Imperial Valley (968) folic 1ed the two leaders in final tear .>coring. Oceanside-Carlsbad dh. not enter a team. Santa Barbara's Bruce Washburn fired a 153 over 36 holt•.s to gain low medalist honors and win a set of matched woods from Golfcraft, Inc., of Escondido, which also donated golf balls for the tourney.
Antelope Valley's John Erickson (154) placed second. Chuck Mackey of Palomar (70-78-157) defeated Santa Barbara's Corky Nelson in a playoff for third place. Comets John Partain (82-78160) and Rogers Graves (75-87162) rounded out the low six medalists. Other Palomar golfers to score in the five-man team competition were Harry Barkow with a 166 and Bill Jenkins with a 169. Rich Rady (174), Mike Cisneros (174) and Barry Thompson (176) were the other Palomar entrants.
PC's dual match record is 18-30. The Comets have won over Santa Ana (29-19), Pasadena City College (27-21), Orange Coast (29-19), MCRD (28-10), Chaffey (31-17), San Bernardino Valley (42-6 and 31-17), Fullel'ton (31-17), UC Riverside (33-15), Riverside City College (25-23 and 27-21), Southwestern (45-3), Long Beach City College(29-25 and 25-23), Antelope Valley (319 and 42-6), Imperial Valley (480) and San Diego (30-24). The Comets have been beaten by Orange Coast (34-14), MCRD (2511) and SBCC (33-15).
Jack Gardner, head basketball coach at the University of Utah, will be guest speaker at the third annual Palomar College All Sports Banquet, to be held in the college student union next Tuesday night at 7 p.m.
May 13,1963
Sport Talk ... Comets Move To Memorial by Tom Saxe ESCONDIDO IN PLANS Chances are better than ever that when coach Chris Pagakis' PC gridders inagurate their 1963 season Sept. 21 tith a home contest against Ventura, the Comets will be playing on the Memorial Field gridiron at Escondido High School. Pagakis, in fact, has plans for the Comets to play most of their home games at Memorial Field, a big change from last year when Palomar spent a large part of its season encamped at Vista High School. Pegakis explains the change as one being caused by "the excellent lighting situation at Escondido." But Escondido's superior illumination is just one of several reasons for the Comet switch. This writer believes that one of the big factors influencing the PC coach's decision was a sizeable little turnout of some 5,500 spectators which viewed the Comets against Imperial Valley in their only Escondido appearance of the 1962 season on Oct. 19. That game was lost, 8-6, when a
58-yard scoring strike from Bill Jenkins to Sammy Coutts was called back by a penalty, but the Comets still sent 5,500 people home satisfied. Many of the kibitzers showed up with a "wait-and-see" attitude about junior college football. It was the first exposure to the JC brand of ball for perhaps half the audience, which made its appearance largely due to a big pregame press buildup.
Of course the bare fact remains that the Comets are not going to get first choice on Memorial Field playing dates. Orange Glen and San Marcos condido high school system, may be playing some Saturday night dates there, and, as members of the Escondido system, naturally will get first pick. But the Comets still should be able to play enough games there to satisfy everyone.
CAN DRAW 5,000 AVERAGE What they finally witnessed was JC ball at its best, and the prediction here is that it will make a big difference in next season's average game attendance. Like Escondido, Palomar can draw an average of 5,000 per game at Memorial Field. With the kind of exciting and powerful club the Comets are going to field in 1963, it seems likely that they can sell-out every game at Vista, but 5- or 6,000 is a much better fugure than 2- or 3,000 anyway you look at it.
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Unfortunately, one person who won't be around to enjoy it is Stu Carter, who last week resigned his Palomar College teaching post. Carter, head football coach for the past two seasons before resigning early this year, deserves most of the eredit for making all this possible. Carter led the Comets out of the gridiron wilderness and his accomplishment will not soon be forgotten. He will be missed.
Comets Drop Twin 1
Bill To State JV s by Dick Targuinio
The PalomarCollege Comets dropped both ends of a double'header with the San Diego State Jayvees last Saturday at State College. The Aztecs whipped the locals 10-4 in the opener and squeezed by with a 10-8 win in the second game. Terry Cavenaugh was the losing pitcher in the opening game, giving up ten runs on five hits and no errors. Payne, of San Diego, was the winner, giving the Comets 4 runs on five hits and three errors. In the first inning Cavenaugh walked Rupe, of State; Nettles singled and Beveridge got on fourth with a double and a single in the third for two runs and a single and a home run in the fourth for an 8-2 lead. The Aztecs scored again in the third after three walks loaded the bases and a single and another walk brought in three more runs, to give State a 6-0 lead. The Comets finally made it in the fifth as Vinland walked, Shultz walked and Copeland brought in the runs on a single to make the score 6-2. But the
English and Math Clinics Offer Added Opportunity Are you aware that the English and Math departments here at PalomarCollege offer clinics for those who need or desire help and improvements? The newly created English Spring semester. It was felt by Mr. Boehm, Mr. Mikkelson, and other members of the faculty that students having difficulty with writing should have the opportunity to have individual help. It was intended to serve a need the instructor could not well serve to individuals in the classroom overall. Mr. R. S. Johnson, in charge of the clinic, meets with students in R-2 from 9:30- 11:00 Tuesday and 1 -4 p.m. on Thursdays. He states that the students who attend these clinics can gain insight through practice and discussion. It is an adjunct to the college. The Math ing next fall, it will be scheduled for regular meetings. Two years ago Mr. Donahue of the math department held a math lab after regular class for students who needed extra help. It was the idea of Mr. session. As Mr. Donahue states, "Students profit considerably from the time spent."
Aztecs did it again in the bottom of the fifth, on a single, a walk and a double for three more and a 9-2 lead. Palomar came back in the sixth on a single by Vinland, another gift for Shultz and a double by Coutts that brought in both runs and made the score 9-4. But that was not enough. State scored one more in the 8th for a 10-4 victory. I n the second game, Crenshaw, who came in for Rich Long in the 4th was the losing pitcher. Powers was the winner for State. State scored on a single and three walks in the first inning for a 1-0 lead. Palomar came back and took the lead 2-1 in the second on a walk for Copeland and errors that brought in Copeland and Hamad. The Aztecs made it 4-2 on a double and two singles in the bottom of the second, and kept going in the third and the fourth with a double and a single in the third for two nins and a single and a home run in the fourth for an 8-2 lead. Palomar tied it up in the fifth walks for Vinland and Schultz, a double for Turner and an error, bringing in three. Then Coutts walked; Towns singled and Crensaw singled making it 8-8. Crensaw pitching, the Aztecs got a walk and a homerun to bring in the winning runs in the bottom of the fifth, making the final score 10-8. In the opening game Cavenaugh struck out 12 despite the loss. Long struck out 5 and Crensaw struck out one in the second game.
"Slave" washes "masters" car during Men's Week.
WHERE?
.111M»& m ':···
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