Missouri Showme December, 1946 Missouri Showme December, 1946 2008 1946/12 image/jpeg University of Missouri Special Collections, Archives and Rare Book Division These pages may be freely searched and displayed. Permission must be received for subsequent distribution in print or electronically. Please contact hollandm@missouri.edu for more information. Missouri Showme Magazine Collection University of Missouri Digital Library Production Services Columbia, Missouri 108 show194612

Missouri Showme December, 1946; by Students of the University of Missouri Columbia, MO 1946

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Missouri Showme December 1946 20 cents Camel Cigarettes Prince Albert THIS MONTH'S COVER 2)A\VE, "Flash" Fairfield, the art- ist who developed this month's trailer town at Yuletide scene, is, as far as we are concerned, a latter day Job. The patience and prolonged steady work required to produce an intricate work such as this one would be enough to daunt most of us the first try. But to Flash it was all in the day's work. To make a three color plate, four separate drawings are required. The original, plus one for each color. The three colored ones must be traced on glazed paper so exactly that when the four are superimposed, the colors will fall in their rightful places. In addition to that, there are the regular artist's considerations of per- spective, shading, relation of colors, and a number of other things too specialized for ours, the typical lay- men's, minds. Despite these accomplishments, Flash is reticent to take even minimum credit for his efforts. When asked for a few background details, he told us he didn't care to have a sketch, blushing prettily all the while. However, we are well acquainted enough with the Big, bashful crafts- man to know that he comes from Lakewood, Ohio, that he is a pre- journalism student, and that he has been interested in drawing since kin- dergarten days when he drew particu- larly adept caricatures of "teechur" on his slate. Missouri Showme CHRISTMAS FEATURES AROUND THE COLUMNS-Albeit the Christmas spirit which has caught us in its cheery swirls even this early in the month, we were forced to take to editorial task the practice of boosting prices on the local juke boxes. THIS IS THE WAY WE GO TO SCHOOL-A pictorial resume of the ve- hicular variety that abounds among the student body. SAM AND THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT -Being but a freshman in the College of Agriculture, perhaps there was good reason for Sam to feel sorry for himself in having to remain in Columbia over the vacation. THE BROADWAY GOLDMINE- Mr. Barnard does the service of bringing to light a local discovery which might well have meant riches for at least two among us. FOR WHOM THE BELLES SHOULD TOIL-Now is the time for all good men to learn just why and how the little women can be put to good use. STAFF TED WEEGAR, Editor DAVE McINTYRE Associate Editor DON MILLER Associate Editor SY WEINTRAUB Business Manager J. D. KAILER Promotion Manager GEORGE FORBES Circulation Manager MERLE SCOTT Advertising Manager MORT WALKER Art Editor CLYDE HOSTETTER Photo Editor LOUISE STARK Modeling Director RANDY MITCHELL Advertising Art Director Advertising Staff: Liz Greening, Hal Chancel- lor, Bill Gray, Bob Summers, Jean Moon Art Staff: Bill Gabriel, Flash Fairfield Circulation Staff: Jean Marshall, John Rice, Charles Charles Photographers: Bob Cody, Jack Flynn Secretary: Phil Sparano Puckett's Men's Wear Town Baedecker CULTURE in heaping por- tions has been the rich fare for Columbia's student populace this season. The menu has featured refining tasties in the way of con- cert delights and meaty talks by a variety of notables. An appetizer of the nicest was dish no. 1-Jeannie Tourel of the Metropolitan Opera who burst into song in mid-October for the Christian College people. Scarce- ly a month later Bidu Sayao, a sister star of the Metropolitan, climbed the high notes for Uni- versity of Missouri listeners. Both the lady song birds were refresh- ing surprises, being the one and the other of the pleasangly not-so- plumb sort and both singing with the lilting abandon of the little feathered creatures of the skyways. Other musical items on the platter of fare were the treats for the Stephens College girls by Pianists Richard Johnston and David Miliken, who tinkled the black-and-whites in twosome, and the Burral Symphony Orchestra, who charmed the young ladies with sprightly musical patterns topped with Tchaikovsky's dainty "Waltz of the Flowers." Lucky extra on the music card was the strictly non-classical pot- pourri offered University home- comers by Mr. Xavier Cugat with his swirl of Latin American melo- dies and the splendid piece de re- sistance for the University lads and lassies was the full-powered eighty-piece orchestrations by the St. Louis Symphony aggregate. For viand courses, Columbia's culture cuisine served up an as- sortments of prominent lecturers on the half shell in the way of an explorer, a foreign correspondent, a statesman and a naval strategist. At the University, Newspaper- man Walter Duranty, who had peeped under the Iron Curtain, told of what he had seen the Rus- sian side of the drapery and Sir Hubert Wilkes, artic sight-seer and man who has seen more foot- loose polar bears than most, had a word or two to say about the globe's frostier regions. Clyde Eagleton of the U. S. State De- partment who has attended world conferenct by the several of late, spanked Americans for saying mean things about the Russians, and Commander William McGov- ern, who has the plan for the in- vasion of Japan, the one that didn't come off, tucked in his pocket, called for a more posi- tive program on America's part in Asia. Thus, the groaning banquet of culture was spread for the scholar- diners - inte!!ectual blue-plates dumped before the student feas- ters. Sugar, how can we help but be so refined? FOR SALE BLACK COCKER female puppy. AKC Registered. 4 months old. $25. Partly house broke, phone 8174. Classified ad, MISSOURIAN. We'll take the broken part, please. 3 When I promised Rupert I'd wear his PIN. I didn't know he worked in a bowling alley. "... Then we'll make our New Years resolution" Around The Columns Oh Happy Yule VISIONS of sugar plums, brightly bedecked Christmas trees, and steaming hot toddies, accom- pany us through the long days of classes these weeks before the long-awaited Yuletide rest. Despite scattered unrest and John L. Lewis nothing seems to be in the offing to spoil this year's holiday season from fulfilling its destiny of one of the happiest of several year's duration. We have already noticed brighter smiles and more gracious greetings as the time to face the issue with old St. Nick draws nigh. One of our sorority informants has passed us the news in strictest confidence that dispositions along the row are growing soft as butter. It's a happy time, Christmas, a memory-inspiring time, full of sentiment, and sometimes happy tears, full of love and the family spiri;, dheery, boisterous, unin- hibited, carefree. For many veterans it is the first Christmas out of uniform, which -makes it even that much more im- portant. It is just as important for those whose lot it was to sit waiting. For these, too, it will be a merry Christmas. It is, then, with real enthusiasm, that we extend our editorial wish for the merriest Christmas to one and all. Up, Dancer, Away! 7 ESTIVITY is the note. That man who comes to our house, the one in the red suit, is on his way and the stockinged goodies and foaming wassail bowls are next to at hand. A happy peek at the calendar pad tells us the jolly yule is almost here. But then an idea of the wor- risome ordeal fate has ticketed for us for just prior to festival time strikes us and our hearts are young but not so gay. Fast is, we quiver with dread. Thought is given to the trek from here to home, which is our rendez-vous point with Santa, and the glistening globules stand forth on the brow. Oh, the bone-crushing, the body-thumping distress for you and I and the rest who must venture forth on vehicles of public transport come this holiday sea- son! Such anguish shouldn't hap- pen-no, not even to a certain prof we know, the one we've been making voodoo dolls for, the one we'd gladly see flogged in the public square. Only way out we can see; would Santie Claus maybe please give us a ride in his reindeer wagon and zip us home across the skyways? Man of Distinction 70 say that the University is cognizant of the elements of time- liness in choosing its speakers for the assembly program is an un- derstatement. Such thoughtful- ness, as exhibited in having Wal- ter Duranty here while the Rus- sian question has been foremost in world-concerned minds, was further emphasized by bringing the famous explorer, Sir Hubert Wilkins, to the students. Sir Hubert, in addition to his attributes as a submarine com- 5 mander and a leader in Arctic ex- peditions, heaped fuel on his abil- ity to incite hero worship by being chosen the current Man of Dis- tinction by a well-known purveyor of spirited beverage. No doubt Sir Hubert's inter- esting talk would have of itself held the audience, but the remem- bered picture of the man sitting majestically, glass in hand, was enough to capture the complete fidelity of any normal, red- blooded undergraduate. Tiger, Tiger WE thought it to the purpose in view of the recent clamor for a Tiger mascot for the school to gather a few pertinent facts re- garding the beast, so that if there is any success in the campaign, in- formation will be on hand for the caretakers of felis tigris. First off, it might be well to straighten out that common fall- acy which has it that Tigers are found in Africa. Our correspon- dent in the St. Louis zoo tells us that the animal is strictly an Asiatic product. We therefore is- sue our warning to be on the look- out against any salesmen who would try to palm off some mangy old felida africana in place of the real article. Once had, the Tiger must needs have special care. For instance, he likes plenty of room to wander. We suggest that the grassy areas of the white campus be set aside for his use, thus solving another problem, once rather lackadaisic- ally handled by the paddle lines, that of keeping students from cut- ting corners across the lawns. Eating problems are not so formidable. Our tiger would be satisfied with a daily pork, a side 6 of beef, or on Sundays, a student or two. Of course, all of these are easily procurable in the dis- trict. A workable system of allot- ing the lowest two percent of the general economics class to the tiger could easily be arranged. Sir J. Fayrer, author of the Royal Tiger of Bengal, tells us, however, that only the old, croch- ety, and tooth-worn speciments are satisfied with human food. We ought, on that account, to be sure ours is of age. No reason to play into the hands of high prices in the meat markets when the stu- dent supply is so extra plentiful. What Price Music OUR friends in the economic division of the business school have informed us that we are in an inflationary period. However, we are reticent to believe that it is bad enough to require such price hikes as the locally evidenced 10 cent juke box. To our way of thinking, there isn't an operation which returns a higher percentage of profit than the juke box. To say that the higher cost of living necessitates an increase for the operators is as ludicrous as much of the noise produced by the infernal ma- chines. Other local price infamies in- clude the well-known cafeteria's addition of a one cent tax on a nickle cup of coffee, calling it, of all things, a cabaret tax! Noth- ing in this food emporium, no, not even by a government tax col- lector, could be mistakenly called distinctive of a cabaret. Lead us from euphanism! Celebration SHOWME side glances . Certainly, no one could have missed the news that the week of Nov. 22 to 29 was declared na- tional Flexi-Bra Week by the manufacturers of the aforesaid articles. Only the rush of Home- coming activities which came at the same time prevented us from presenting a complete coverage of the celebrations relevant to the occasion. Greek New Deal WITH the death of the OPA the other day we thought that finally we were on the lee side of the famous alphabet soup trouble with which the country was con- fronted for 15 New Dealing years- and well on our return to normal- acy. Alas, we had reckoned without our good friend the Missouri STU- DENT for not more than three days after the inquest-less death of the price administration this cross-campus publication jumped out into deep water and nearly drowned themselves in the Greek alphabet. In a special dispatch, undoubt- edly written by their Athens cor- respondent, they told of an hon- orary fine arts society at the Uni- versity pledging 11 girls. This scintillating bit of news, not unlike the STUDENT'S usual run of copy, was quite fine except that they called the society Delta Tau Delta, a name bearing a striking resemblance to Delta Tau Delta, a national social frater- nity here on the campus. We were about to let the whole mixup pass until we began won- dering how our friends on Ken- tucky Ave., would go about ex- plaining to their national head- quarters the fact that they had pledged 11 girls. Light Opera *)URING Homecoming we got to wondering if our electric- ian friend who used to regulate (we use that word advisedly) the lights during concerts was still hanging around the Field House. So we decided to take in Xavier Cugat and check up on the fellow who before the war rendered the majority of guest artists myopic after their two hour performance beneath his interpretation of the Aurora Borealis. It gave us a warm glow to find that our friend was apparently still at the switch and needless to say he didn't disappoint us. He got off to a fast start even before he drew a verbal comment about his work from Cugat and continued his fiasco at the switches until well into "Begin the Beguine." As a matter of fact he seemingly wasn't satisfied with his work un- til along about the "Mexican Hat Dance." If we weren't convinced that this was our old friend we were quite satisfied two nights later at the St. Louis Symphony concert, albeit improssed. He had polite- ly localized his flashing efforts to the lights over the left side of the balcony and not once during the performance did he plunge the en- tire Field House into total dark- ness, a consistent feat by which he established an enviable reputa- tion in 1941. After this admirable attempt at trying to improve himself we are convinced that our friend should at least be given a crack at the switchboard in warmer Jesse Au- ditorium or at least a trial run in Waters Auditorium before he steps into the big time. Revelation 1HE current month has been much more eventful than the columns of the newspapers would lead us to believe In fact, we are the possessors of a piece of news which happened not once this month, but twice, on two sepa- rate occasions. The event mentioned is one which has probably been subject to more controversial discussion where men gather together than the Harding scandal. We report the news with the thought in mind that it will decide once and for all an argument which has raged for years as to whether it can or cannot happen. It did happen this month at two local social affairs that two strapless evening gowns lost their hold and slipped. The proof, gentlemen, it can, it has happened. Civilian Foraging JUST as we were getting nice- ly "debrassed" and comfortably accustomed to the sanctity of the human as an individual, citizen, and student, our Campustown cor- respondent popped up with this bit that took us right back to some tortuous days at Ft. Footblister. It seems that one recent Friday afternoon a booth opened up at the Shack and three lively lads pulled up short and promptly took over the vacancy, so fast that they completely overlooked a comely young thing occuping one-fourth of the booth. Easing through the usual amenities of pre-glow conversa- tion our friends discovered that this girl's father was a lieutenant in the army, a fact which failed to impress our friends, having just suffered through the same three year spasm with the rest of us. But being semi-broke and anxious to hear her story, our friends went right along with the joke and suggested that a toast be drunk to her father as a Cap- tain. This was quite agreeable with officer's offspring and she immediately dispatched one of the trio to the counter with 44 cents. Apparently pride and ambi- tion run high in the Regular Army because shortly thereafter a toast was proposed to the Major and soon to the Lt. Colonel. The last report we got had something to do with a Five Star General and the question was be- ing asked if there were a Field Marshal in the American Army. 7 Sam and the Christmas Spirit By Huntley Richardson 9N a very little room on a very dark and cold third floor of a Columbia boarding house, Christmas can be as bright and as cheerful as in a big, beautiful house, with a roaring fire, a tower- ing Fir tree, glittering with glass baubles and hovering over a pile of packaged Christmas gifts. At least, that's what Sam Car- son, freshman in agriculture, Uni- versity of Missouri, was telling himself. Christmas, he said, isn't a matter of home of cheer, of friends. Christmas is a spirit, an inner joy, a season when even this dingy room can't keep me from being happy and at peace with the world. Sam Carson was an optimist. He was almost alone in the house in his third floor room. Ex- cept for the landlady who lived on the first floor, and who always kept her door shut and locked, all the others had left for vaca- tions. Sam had stayed, not be- cause he wanted to, but because he had no other place to go, nor even a red cent to go on if he had a place. Sam had watched with a tinge of jealousy as the majority of the students had left the latter part of the week, trudging down the streets with suitcases, bundles, and happy anticipating grins. They were going home. But because Sam was an opti- mist, and because he knew instinc- 8 tively that to sit and mope, feel sorry for himself because he wasn't leaving, would only make the situation worse. He had, there- fore, on this night before Christmas, worked himself into a state of believing that his Christmas would and could be as happy as everyone else's. Sam had been thinking about an hour how he could go about doing this, and it was just after he had said half-aloud to him- self that his Christmas would be a good one-as much as if he were giving himself a command, an idea struck him. Ideas weren't easy for Sam. Going to school, studying text- books in the evening and listen- ing to lectures in the daytime left little time or room to culti- vate tne habit of inventing per- sonal ones, but when they did come to Sam, they were always gratifying, and he was always most willing to act on them. He lost no time, then, in get- ting on his hat and coat, check- ing his wallet to see how much money he really did have, and finding there $4.65. he put on his coat and departed. Sam made a mental shopping list as he hurried toward the busi- ness district, going over it so many times, that it would have been entirely unessential to have written it down. He first went to a stationer's shop. "I want a Christmas Card suitable for a landlady" he said to the clerk. And without too much difficulty, but not without some humor, the clerk picked out one with a large and bright red poinsetta on the front, and a senti- ment inside which read "Joy to You This Christmas Season, and Heaven-Sent Happiness Through- out The New Year." It cost 15 cents. Then Sam went to the five and ten, where he bought 25 cents worth of hardcandies, some choco- lates for another quarter, and ten cents worth of assorted nuts. But before he left the store he saw a pocketknife that attracted him, and he bought that for 65 cents. Sam went to a grocery store, where he purchased a large can of boneless turkey for 60 cents, a small can of cranberry sauce for 20, and a loaf of bread. He now had just a little over two dollars left, and was at odds as to just what he would buy with it, when just as quick as his first idea, there it was. In a window, a bright red tie, not a loud tie, but the kind Sam liked, with a pretty design, and a white silk backing. The price tag said $2.25. Sam had all but one penny of it, and he knew because it was Christmas, they would let him have it. Sam didn't usually like to quibble about prices, but this, he convinced himself was a special occasion. With no trouble at all, he got the tie. And then Sam, with his newly acquired Christmas purchases, hurried home, tarrying only long enough to hear once more the recorded rendition of "Silent Night" from atop the bank build- ing. "All is calm, all is bright," Sam hummed to himself as he sat down at his desk and got busy with wrapping the packages. He had first put his food supplies in the window box where he also kept a quart of milk, some potatoes, a quarter pound of butter, and one or two other odds and ends. For the pocketknife, Sam found a small box, and wrapping the knife carefully in white tissue, he placed it inside, then wrapped the box in a piece of bright green paper, tying it with some red string which he had saved from a bookstore package. The tie was in a pretty white folder that had little silver Christmas trees stamped on it, so Sam used another piece of the transparent tissue on that, and fastened it with two tuberculosis seals which he bor- rowed from a Christmas letter from an aunt in Kentucky. Then Sam took the Christmas card he had bought, and address- ing the envelope to. his landlady, he penned the following note on the inside: "Dear Mrs. Delancey, A Merry Christmas to you. I've a favor to ask, which, although' rather silly, will make my Christmas more fun. These two packages I received today, and because I remember many years agc my mother always used to fill my stocking after I had gone to bed on Christmas Eve, I would like to recapture the spirit of those days somewhat by having my Christmas stocking tomorrow morning. Would you - so kind as to put these packages in the stocking which will be hanging on rny door? Again, a very merry Christmas to you and yours." He sneaked downstairs, and placing the card and the two packages by her door, he knocked "He's a veteran of the African Campaign" 9 Showme What the Well-Dresed Joe College Will Wear Winter Fashions What the Well-Dressed Jo College Will Wear This Is the Way We Go to School The Broadway Gold Mine, Inc. By Charles Nelson Barnard 3 THINK that it is proper, and in the public interest, at this time that you should know about a gold mine that exists today, right here in Columbia, Missouri: a vein of the precious metal which runs diagonally under Broadway from the Boone Theatre to Miller's Shoe Store-and perhaps beyond. All of you recall, no doubt, the recent eruption of Columbia's main drag: the construction machinery, torn up pavement, oil lanterns, and piles of sand. Well, it was then that Joe and I dis- covered the mine. It was late at night and we were walking along a nearly deserted Broadway. Sud- denly Joe stopped short in the lurid glare of a kerosene lantern, stooped, and extracted a small ob- ject from a pile of freshly dug earth which bordered a trench. Thinking my friend was up to his old tricks of picking up tax tokens, I chastised him severely. "But look," he croked, "this here stuff is gold!" "No, Joe," say I, "there's no gold left in the world anymore that isn't hundreds of feet under- ground and hard to get to." I was in no mood to humor my roommate but he would no more leave that pile of earth than a hound dog would desert a wood- chuck hole. Madly he scratched at the earth with his bare hands until I was embarrased at the looks he received from the occasional pe- destrians. Every few seconds he would pick from the dirt a small, pebble-like object until he had a dozen or so clasped in his hand. Then he rose, surveyed his find- ings carefully in the lantern light, and motioned to me that it was time to clear out of the vicinity. Not a word passed between us un- til we reached home. He didn't have to examine the stuff long under bright light to be sure it was gold. I believed him. It sure looked like gold to me. Then, all of a sudden, the full realization of the situation hit me and I blurted out, "Joe. old buddy, we're rich! We're millionaries!" His only recation was a stony glare. "Look," he said sternly, "this is it. This is the moment I've dreamed of. Gold. I've read books about, I've gone to lec- tures, I've talked to mining engi- neers, I've studied the methods of the '49ers-I've even gone to movies about the Gold Rush. I've always known that someday I'd find it and I promised myself that when I did I wouldn't louse up the operation . . ." As you can see, it wasn't going to be easy to extract gold from the main street of Columbia with- out attracting attention. People just naturally srtnd and watch such projects as road building, etc. If these same people knew gold was being mined right under their noses, the whole scheme would collapse in chaos. It would be 1849 all over again. The situa- (Continued on Page 22 ) 13 Sports Scene THE several non-conference tilts played by the current edition of the Tiger cage squad will have given spectators a passing idea of the ability of the new basketball coach, Wilbur, but known more intimately as "Sparky," Stalcup. Catching up with the fast-mov- ing "Sparky" was no mean feat in these past few weeks when he has been combining coaching duties with scouting for the gridiron men and general promotion for the athletic department. However, once found, he is discovered to be a likeable 36 year-old ex-navy lieutenant, a na- tive of Forbes, Mo., a father of a five-year-old daughter, now mak- ing his home in Oregon, Mo. Stalcup succeeds amiable George Edwards on the basketball bench, a position which the latter capably filled for 20 seasons. Stal- cup comes not as an unknown to Missouri cage followers, however. His teams at Northwest State Teachers College in Marysville posted under his tutelage a ten- year percentage of .795, never once finishing out of the first di- vision of the Missouri Intercolleg- 14 iate Athletic Association, and sev- eral times winning national hon- ors. "Sparky" was himself a stal- wart on the Maryville five in early thirty undergraduate days. Play- ing under the well-known coach, Henry Iba, now at Oklahoma A. & M., he made all-conference dis- tinction in both basketball and football. He has since coached at Jackson, Mo., High School, and aboard the U.S.S. Gilbert Islands, an aircraft carrier, whose team boasted a wartime record of 21 wins against no losses. The squad under Stalcup this year will, of course, do much either to heighten or to diminish his reputation. The impressive roll- call seems to indicate that it can- not hurt him. Six of the players wear their basketball M, two let- tered at Maryville, and another at Cape Girardeau. The 11 other players all have experience on the court. Thorton Jenkins, 23-year-old ex-Air Corps flier has been named captain of the 1946-47 team. He hails from Advance, Mo., and won his M in 1942 and last season, as well as a freshman numeral in 1941. Other squad members include Dan Pippim of Waynesville, Mo., letterman and All Big Six player in 1943; Darrell Sorrance, all- state high school player from Con- way, Mo., for two years; Pleasant Smith, Union, Mo, letterman from 1942, and Don McMillen, all- state high school at Windsor, Mo., in 1945. Ken Shockley, Don Sallee, and Bob Phillips are big, strapping 17- year old newcomers; Karl Pier- point and John Rudolph are Mary- ville lettermen; and Ben Bidwell is the Cape Girardeau product. Dick Gwinn, 18-year-old Jeff City boy, won his M here last season. Other standouts are Bob Wach- ter, Roy Pilliard, Earl Stark and Bob Garwitz, who will see action this year. The Tiger cagers open their Big Six Conference play here Jan. 3 against the Iowa State Cyclones. Prior to that engagement, they will have played six non-conference games, and taken part in the Kan- sas City and Oklahoma City basketball tourneys. To Coach Stalcup and his charges go editorial wishes for the most successful season, and may the March 7 tussle with Phog Allen's boys see the sting of the recently inflicted football wound completely avenged. Bill Hen- derson. OPTIMISM RAMPANT SHOWME November "Ray Evans, All-American candi- date for halfback, should thrill the spectators with his spectacular style of running, and the heavy Tiger for- ward wall will be set on stopping him as well as the other K. U. backs." FIGHT, TIGER FIGHT WORDS BY DONALD M. MACKAY TIGER MUSIC BY ROBERT F. KARSCH HISTORY OF THE SONG ht had long been apparent to the students and alumni of the University of Missouri that the fight song of the school was wholly inadequate and bore a striking resemblance to "Tipperary." Many overtures were made from one group or another, but like Mark Twain and the Missouri weather, everyone said a lot about it but no one did anything. It took the concentrated and combined work of the entire chapter of Alpha Delta Sigma, national advertising fraternity, to finally get a movement started for a new song. The chapter decided that the best way to get a song about the University was to have one written preferably by a student, so a contest was launched. At the outset many blanks were taken out to write the song but few entries were received and it looked for awhile as if the contest would end up not being a true indication of the available talent on the campus. Gradually, however, entries became more numerous. One music instructor at Christian College even went so far as to make a class assignment to write a song. At the close of the contest late in November, when Homecoming spirit began to invade student activities, interest in the song became campus wide. It was decided to have the University band play the song at the Pep Rally the night preceding the Missouri-Kansas Homecoming game. The night of the rally several thousand students packed themselves into the bleachers of Brewer Field House and overran onto the Field House track waiting for the song to be played. The winner had been selected from a field of nine finalists by a special committee. Fifty-two songs had been entered in the contest and a new Philco combination radio- phonograph was to be awarded to the composer. Over a radio program, half way through the rally, it was announced that "Fight Tiger," written by two University students, was accepted as the winning son by President Frederick A. Middlebush. Robert F. Karsch, Fulton, graduate student working on his Ph. D., had composed the music, and Donald M. MacKay, Flushing, N. Y., a student in the College of Arts and Science wrote the words. Copies of the words had been distributed to the students at the Pep Rally and as the band swung into the music the song was sung, hestitatingly through the first verse, but with gusto and enthusiasm when the words became familiar. The song was an immediate success and seemed destined to remain with the University for many years as their own and original fight song. Runners-up among the 52 entries from the University, Christian, and Stephens Colleges, were: "Roar On, Missouri," by Mrs. Margaret Tello, Columbia, Christian College music teacher, and "Fight On For Old Mizzou," by Terry White, Cadiz, Ky., Christian College student. The songs were selected by a student board consisting of one representative from each college and school in the University. They were: John F. Leuck, engineering; David R. Archer, agriculture; Harry Sello, graduate; Derek V. Quackenbush, journal- ism; John H. Walsh, medical; Thelma O. Wood, alumni; Maribel Fendorf, business; Kenneth Bounds, arts and science; and Jerred G. Blanchard, law. The four faculty judges were Franklin B. Launer, Christian College; and Dr. Ruth Wylie, Prof. Rogers Whitmore, and Prof. George C. Wilson, Jr., all of the University's music department. Harzfeld's Suzanne's Sam . . . (Contiuued from Page 9 ) loudly, and then scurried back up to his room before she came. But he didn't close his door tight until he heard her footsteps, and heard her open her door. After hanging up the stocking, Sam went right to bed. It was part of the Christmas luxury to be able to retire early, not to think of studies, and besides, Sam was be- ginning to worry. Really, his ears began to burn just a little when he thought how the landlady might react to his note. She's probably wondering what kind of seven fools I am, Sam thought to himself. No rea- son why she should do anything like that for me. I hardly know her, really, and the only thing she's ever said to me is a grunt when I pay my rent. Following those lines of thought, it wasn't long until Sam had convinced himself that his idea was pretty much of a flop, and Sam went to sleep in the exact mood he was trying all evening to fight-feel- ing sorry for himself, and feeling every ache of the sadness of being alone. The happy shrieks of a neigh- bor child who had received his first bicycle first woke Sam in the morning. At first he didn't remember it was Christmas, but before he had both eyes open, it came to him. He wanted to hide. He wanted to go back to sleep and let the whole day slip by without his knowledge of it. Sam didn't want to open his door and look at that stocking, but he knew that he would. He knew that he would only torture himself by putting it off longer, so mustering up cour- age he swung out of his cot, and strode over to the door. There was the stocking, and, what's this! It's full! Sam ripped it off the hook, eagerly, excited- ly. Yes, here's the tie, and the knife . . . but, wait. Here's some- thing else. "From Mrs. De- lancey," a present. He nervously undid the wrapping. A pen, a pen from Mrs. Delancey! Merry Christmas, Sam laughed, merry Christmas to everyone, and he opened his door and boomed "Merry Christmas, Mrs. De- lancey," down the stair well, even though he knew it was the same pen she had found when one of the lads left school at the end of the summer session. "Well, I guess I might as well put the motion before the house," said the chorus girl as she went on the stage. Sailor: "Can I take you home?" Girl: "Sure, where do you live?" * "Any nice girls in this town?" "Sure, they're all nice." "How far to the next town?" Parasite-a person who goes through a revolving door without pushing. I Remember Mama 5 he Missouri Workship's pro- duction of John van Druten's "I Remember Mama," last week, met with varied enthusiasm. This very human, almost prosaic story of a Norwegian family living in San Francisco lacked the keenness of humor and fast pace of "State of the Union," Workshop's first pro- duction. Discouraged by this fact, some of the audience failed to fol- low the simple situations of act one through to their completition in act two as excellent drama, carefully developed by Professor Donovan Rhynsberger. Katrin, the oldest daughter (and narrator), grows from the adolescent schoolgirl of the first act into the sure, successful young woman seen at the close of the play. Margaret Ruth Wise, who portrayed Katrin, effected the transition skillfully, and was sub- tle in her handling of the slight over-acting which the role de- manded. Dorothy Chancellor's performance as Mama failed at times to suggest fully the domin- ant role which the character played in her family, though her traits of kindness and understanding were clearly reflected, particularly in. the touching drugstore scene with Katrin and in Mama's scenes with Uncle Chris played by James Hackney. Other members of the cast turned in competent performances, jointly contributing to a smooth- running show. "Mama," a play about Norwegians, made extra demands on its cast, since it called for dialect, several juvenile roles played by high school youths. Uncle Elizabeth, the much-public- ized feline element of the play, was consistently well-behaved throughout. CENTRAL DAIRY Frozen Gold Ice Cream neffs date and candy shop GOLDMINE . (Contiu"d from Page 13 ) tion demanded tact and Joe was equal to the task By 5 A.M. we had completed the plan: we were 50/50 partners in the most secret corporation ever formed: "The Broadway Gold Mine of Colum- bia, Missouri, Inc." Next morning, as soon as the grocery stores were open, Joe bought a dozen pounds of coffee and br,-wght them back to the house. Into one of these he buried our first nuggets, leaving all twelve jars on my dask. "When you want to hide something, room- mate, just put in it the most con- spicuous place possible," he said. "Most people have a blind spot right under their noses." Just before the laborers re- turned from their lunch hour on Broadway, Joe and I made our appearance at the trench. We were dressed in overalls, railroad caps and general working clothes. We took spades and picks from the tool house and started digging. Joe worked like a beaver at the bottom of the trench while I leaned on the shovel and guarded his operations. Pretty soon, two guys came along. Strictly ditch-diggers these two fellows were and I could see that they were wondering who we were and why we were digging in their trench. I had an answer ready for them; Joe had thought of even this. The foreman, I said, had assigned us the job at this trench. I added that the foreman was very unhappy about the qual- ity or their work heretofore and that they better keep out of his way for a while The two ditch- diggers looked at each other, looked at us, shrugged, and walked off. We never saw them again. The Campus Florist McAllister's I gave Joe the sign and he re- sumed his digging. By now he had begun a tunnel and was near- ly invisible from the sidewalk. The sounds of his operations were becoming less audible, but I could still hear a faint hissing sound as he screened each shovelful of dirt through a wire mesh in search of the nuggets. After another hour or so, we traded jobs and Joe took over the work on the surface and I climbed down into the mine. We had no sooner made this change when I heard a voice talk- ing to Joe on the surface. I stop- ped by digging and listened. "Who are you?" "I'm getting this treach ready for pipe.' "One of my men?" "Yep, I just hired on." There was quiet then except for the rumble of traffic on Broad- way. Joe knocked the ashes from his pipe on the flat of his spade. That was my signal to start dig- ging again. The keorsene lanterns gave just enough light for me to see the nuggets which the wire mesh sifted from the soil. I was finding one about every five minutes. This went on for four days. Each night we would return our tools to the foreman's shack hang red, warning lanterns around our trench and trudge off home. Once inside our room, Joe would dump the day's findings from his to- bacco can, spread them out on the desk, and then, satisfied that the gold was good, would bury the nuggets in a coffee jar. We never tried to hide the twelve pounds of coffee. According to Joe we were "fol- lowing the principal vein of a con- siderable deposit in a southeaster- ly direction at a depth of not more 23 CHECKER CAB CO. OUTSIDE INN than ten feet." The extent or length of such a vein was difficult to determine, he said, but in the case of our mine it might extend as far as the Central Dairy. Of course, I took Joe's word for everything and went to sleep that night counting nuggets, little knowing that on the morrow, mining of the Broadway Gold Mine would abruptly cease. It happened this way: We had been working about an hour on the fifth day when the foreman came along. "Where's your helper?" he says. "Oh, he's down under-that is, er . . " "He's under? Under what?" "Well, er, you see, what I mean is that he's under the weather to- day." "Oh, that's too bad. I've got your pay checks here." I gulper. This was the end. There could be no checks for us. The construction company didn't even know we existed. My heart sank as I watched the foreman thumbing through the handful of pay envelopes. I had to say some- thing. "Oh, never mind looking for ours. "You may as well take it now." "Well, you see, I don't think you'll find ours in there." "No? Why not?" "Well, we never get paid. That is, we turn it all back into war bonds. Every week the company mails us the bonds." "War bonds?" "Uh huh." "All of it?" MISSOURI TELEPHONE CO. "All of it." "I'll be damned. What di'ja do, strike oil or something?" "Something like that, I guess." He walked off talking to him- self. I gave Joe a quick signal and he came up from the shaft. "Let's clear out'a here Joe," says I, and then tells him what has transpired between me and the foreman. Joe looked worried for a minute, then his face brightened with an idea. He started beckon- ing to a guy who was operating a nearby bulldozer. Pretty soon the fellow with the bulldozer came rumbling down the street and Joe had words with him which I couldn't hear. Before I can figure it out, I see the bulldozer being used to fill up our trench-gold mine and all. Then Joe carried off all the tools and made a mo- tion to me that meant we were clearing out before the foreman spotted us. When we got about four blocks away, I asked Joe a question. "What did you tell that guy with the bulldozer?" "I told him the trench was in the wrong place and the foreman said to fill it up." "But what about the mine?" "It's closed." "For good?" "Yep." "Roommate," Joe said later on, "we're out'a business. Know why? I'll tell you. This gold we've been mining is hot. There's a law which says no one in the U. S. can have gold unless it's in jewelry or plugged in molar cavities. All other gold you gotta get rid of to your Uncle Sam for $35 an ounce. This I have recently learned in my economics class." "That's not hard to take," says I. "No," says Joe, "it ain't, but here's the rub. What happens when people find out we're sell- ing pure gold? Right off they want to know where we got it and if we tell them, we're in hot water with the construction company, the City of Columbia, and prob- ably the University of Missouri." McLAUGHLIN BROS. FURNITURE "But Joe," s.ys I, "what hap- pens to the Broadway Gold Mine, Inc.?" "It's finished," he says. "Let someone else dig it." Needless to say, I was down- hearted. The next day I watched Joe heading for the post office with a big box-about big enough to contain twelve pound jars of coffee. "Where'd you send our gold?" I asked him later. "I don't know," he says, "and I don't thing the post office will know either." Then he thought a moment and added a question. "How long do you suppose they keep packages in the Minneapolis dead letter office?" "I don't know," I says. "I dont either," he says. "It's easy to write a play. First act, boy meets girl. Second act, they hold hands. Third act, they kiss." "That's how I got arrested." "What do you mean?" "I wrote a five act play." * Newspaper item: "Mrs. Lottie Prim granted a divorce when she testified that, since her marriage, her husband had spoken to her but three times. She was awarded the custody of their three children." "Is this the Salvation Army?" "Yes." "Do you save bad women?" "Yes." "Well, save me a couple for Satur- day night." "Waiter, they're two flies in my soup." "Eh? Heh, so he finally caught up with her." "I fainted. They brought me to. So I fainted again." "Why?" "Well, they brought me two more." An enemy, I know, to all Is wicked, wicked alcohol. The good Book, though, commanded me To learn to love mine enemy. ESSER DRUG STORE BYRON PRICE-CAMPUS CLOTHIER "Captain,is this a good ship?" "Why, madam, this is her maiden voyage." * Mary had a litlte lamb, Some salad and dessert, And then she gave the wrong address, The dirty little flirt. * An intelligent girl is one who can refuse a kiss without being deprived of it. "Is my face dirty or is it my imagination?" "Your face is clean; I don't know about your imagination." * While a fourth for bridge is im- portant, a fifth will usually contri- bute more joviality to the party. * Paying alimony is like taxation without representation. Many a man has made a monkey out of himself in reaching for the wrong limb. * Joe: "A woman's greatest attrac- tion is her hair." Moe: "I say it's her eyer." Ike: "It is unquestionably her teeth." Mike: "What's the use of sitting here and lying to each other?" Friends are people who dislike the same people. * Just because she has a head like a grape doesn't say she's one of the bunch. GREYHOUND COFFEE SHOP CUPBOARD LINDSEY'S JEWELRY STORE UPTOWN COFFEE SHOP Meet Clyde .HE lad whose patient tolera- tion of photographic shortages, bad weather, stubborn models, and grumpy editors has been re- sponsible for our having any pic- tures at all, is the subject of this month's sketch. Clyde Hostetter, the man be- hind the shutter, is actually a photographer because he thought it easier than such work as wait- ing tables to help him get through school. He has been interested in cameras, however, since he was old enough to click a shutter on a Brownie. His big brother's hobby was photography, so Clyde naturally fell in with the family tradition, and by the time he was ten years old owned his own camera and was developing his own pictures. Clyde spent three years in navy service during the war, 20 months of it as an enlisted man, and the re- mainder as gunnery and photo- graphy officer on one of the navy's fighting ships. He is currently enrolled in the College of Arts and Science, but intends to enter journalism and major in news. In addition to school, maga- zine, and social obligations, Clyde and his roommate, Bob Tonn, operate the Campus Photo Serv- ice, whose comprehensive slogan is "We photograph anything for a price." The service is Clyde's base of operations is at 1409 Rosemary Lane, and he advises that he is available for photo service at all hours, and can be reached by phone at 5908. Kaywoodie Company H.R. Mueller Florist SPORTING GOODS The Belles By Lew Sanders BATTLE stations, men! The call to arms goes ringing round the battlements. Rise up. To your weapons. Time now to bump petticoat tyranny and dump the little woman from her pedestal. Twentieth-century women of American vintage have made beasts of burden of their men. Victims, rally round! The "wash the windows, beat the rugs, clean the porch, run to the stores . . do this, that and the next thing." routine must come to a grinding, smoking stop. Who does she think she is anyway, a second looey, or something? Comrades, it's not this way in China. Let's you and I look in on our Chinese brethren, much smarter cookies by far. When Chunking Charlie has a chore to do, who dose it? The female of the species, men It's the little woman who drags the plow through the rice paddy. There's our slogan-"Harness the old bat to a plow!" Let's go Oriental. The proper place for a self-respecting Chinese gentleman, when promenading, is six feet directly forward of his mate. She, in her subordinated position, is a well-trained obedi- ent subject - and, incidentally, protects her man from sneak at- tack. So, first thing - on the way home from the saloon today, cut down a small sapling. When you get home, whack away! Deve- lop that strong right arm! Sharpen your aim! And tame the spouse. Oops, excuse me . I'm com- ing, dear. . . . THE DRUG SHOP McQUITTY QUICK PRINTERS Bonmouton Chesterfield Cigarettes