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Showme June, 1957; by Students of the University of Missouri Columbia, MO 1957

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June, 1957 Showme $00.25 So Long, Sucker Puckett's letters April 29, 1957 Dear Sirs: I will thank you to not use my name any more in your low- brow grubby magazine. Sincerely, Alex A. Seconk Route I, Box 977 Brownsville, Texas Dear Alex: Only a high-brow would fail to put a comma between "low- brow" and "grubby." If this is your outlook on life, I'm glad my branch of the fam- ily fought for the North against those Texas Seconks. I even look different. Check me. I'm stand- ing right behind the bouncing ti- ger on the staff page. You're excommunicated. Alex Seconk, co-editor for jokes, exchanges, sub- scriptions, art and pub- licity. April 26, 1957 Dear Skip: Have sure enjoyed your SHOW- ME. It has a great staff and you don't do bad for a LITTLE guy. What are your plans after that great day in June? A Chinese friend of mine told me he could get me a reporting job on a Na- tionalist paper in Hong Kong but it would cost too much to have characters installed on my typewriter so I had to turn the job down. Bob Starr 1807 Third St., Bakersfield, Calif. Dear Bob: The first thing I'm going to do is go out there and slap your smart aleck wrist Then, after you apologize for defaming the editors, try to talk you into join- ing me for that job you turned down, 'cause that's where I'm going. -A really GREAT guy April 2, 1957 To SHOWME: This article was found in a lo- cal newspaper. If the censors censor this article, we need some new damn censors. The only thing new in these parts is the story imported from Lansing about the death of Mar- ilyn Monroe. When she got to the Pearly Gates and was being check- ed in by St. Peter he remarked that she probably would find it rather dull in heaven. Marilyn replied, "Oh don't you (Name Withheld) Columbia, Mo. Dear Withheld: This one really rocked us. But a glance at the back shows it's NOT local. Unfortunately, there have been a number of other things in newspapers, which we have not been allowed to repro- duce. Isn't it funny how the fam- ily newspaper gets by with what a frankly college humor maga- zine can't touch sometimes? April 8, 1957 Dear Editors: I receive SHOWME from a good friend of mine at M.U. and ac- tually I am very pleased to say, even tho' I am a great TEXAN myself, that your mag is one of the very best I have ever read. Its human interest is more than terrific and it is very typical and outspoken. Keep it up and more power to youse guys. Ray B. Williams North Texas State College Denton, Texas Dear Ray: You're an unusually informed and discriminating reader. Why don't you subscribe instead of re- sorting to wholesale pilfering? You get SHOWME from a friend, ROMANO'S write from Denton, on hotel en- velopes from Ft. Worth and use note paper from Old Faithful Lodge at Yellowstone Park. Oth- er people don't do things like that. You must be a Communist. April 26, 1957 Editors: We publish a 32-page monthly magazine chock full of success stories. What kind of an arrangement could we make for the use of your cartoon material from 1956- 57? We note that the magazine section of the Hearst newspapers use college cartoon material ev- ery Sunday. How much would you charge for reprinting with credit to SHOWME? Would you send us some of your best issues during this past year? Yours sincerely, Joe Godfrey, Managing Editor SUCCESS UNLIMITED 5316 Sheridan Road Chicago 40, Ill. Dear Joe: Thanks for being more consid- erate than the poor, poor Hearst chain. They steal our stuff with- out bothering to write even once. Even to tell us to go to hell. But looking again at your op- ening sentence, our business man- ager wonders if you haven't sure- ly written this letter to the wrong place. When we pay off our bills, we'll fix up a real whiz- bang SUCCESS story to you, in addition to cartoons. Single cartoon reprints are $10 full pages or centerspreads are $20 . . . check made out to the signing artist c/o SHOWME. Don't pay for your subscription. Just put us on your free list (and of- fer our staffers fabulous editori- al positions after June.) Two Fabulous Ones Feb. 20 Skip, Noel and Henchmen: I have just received all the copies of this year's SHOWME. They have been sent to a kindly lady with whom I have made my home, off and on, since leav- ing the University, or more prop- erly, Andy's and the Stables. This fine old lady was somewhat leery of receiving the magazines in broad daylight from the hand of the kindly postman so she hid them away upon receipt and took pills to make her forget. In spite of all the rumors to the contrary I am employed. I work for the Waukegan News- Sun which is a "family" newspa- per. That means it is owned by one family who have gotten very rich from it. ECA Thompson 116 Madison Street Waukegan, Illinois Dear ECAT Wow . . . Does this ever kill some classic rumors. You ARE employed. Someone said you were buried in the Kremlin Wall and had endowed a new journal- ism building for English majors. Editors April 16, 1957 Dear Skip: What would it cost me to have the entire set of SHOWME issues that you put out this year (1956- 57)? Yours very truly) Mrs. Verna Leuty Manager Chamber of Commerce Ellsworth, Kan. Dear Mrs. Leuty: We can't supply November or January but the rest will be mailed together with a bill. Oth- erwise, it'll only cost you your reputation. Two Reputationlesses April 7, 1957 Dear Editors: I'm writing to ask your as- sistance in locating some college magazines which are not so easy to find as SHOWME. Some of them have appeared in your Filched department. Yours, etc. Rex Lampman Editor BULL Box 2846 Hollywood, Calif. Dear Rex: BLAST (U. of South Dakota) . GARGOYLE (U. of Michi- gan) . . . SHAFT (U. of Illinois, see March Letters Column) . . . JACKOLANTERN (H a v e n' t seen them for years, only their reprinted cartoons in other mags) Let's see your magazine. All we have is your word that it is something more than the letter- head title . . . BULL! Editors SUSIE STEPHENS May 4, 1957 Dear Editors, Since I've been in school here and seen a lot of SHOWME, I've never been "awakened" so quick- ly as I was when you introduced Shirley Palmer in your Ozark is- sue. I know Missouri has pretty girls, but she's the best yet. (I'm not alone in this.) She should either be a perma- nent fixture in the magazine or look into this Miss Missouri Con- test. That is, if it's possible. She's the perfect accessory alright, but for better things than the Ozarks. Here's hoping she doesn't go back into hiding. Sincerely, M.W.F. for the "CRUSADERS" P.S. Agreed or not? Dear M. W. F, You bet your sweet Turtle! Eds They Thought I Would Degrade Their Home The Son of the Former Governor of Formosa, For the First Time, Writes of the Depledging Which Disgusted Campuses Across the Nation. April 27, 1957 DEAR SKIP: THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE SHERMAN WU STORY. I HOPE WE CAN REPRINT SOME OF IT. WHY NOT COME IN WHEN YOU ARE IN ST. LOUIS? SINCERELY, IRVING DILLIARD EDITORIAL DIRECTOR "ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH" ST. LOUIS 1, MO. May 1, 1957 Dear Sirs: Congratulations. Your coverage of the Sherman Wu story in the March issue of SHOWME is unexcelled in the annals of college humor magazines. It is good to see a humor magazine lend its pages to a more construc- tive cause than the continental back-stabbing of Deans. We at the Ohio University GREEN GOAT are proud to be in the same field with you. We also admire Sherman Wu for his fair account of a touchy situation. It is easy to understand his hurt and how simple it would be for him to slap back with a biased and prejudiced story. Since the ex-publishers (see enclosed slipping) and staff of the GREEN GOAT are ALL FRATERNITY MEN, it is easy to appreciate what you have done. Although some fraternities are hampered by racial clauses, the question of racial distinction still remains a great one. WE PLAN TO PRESENT OUR EXCHANGE COPY OF THE MARCH SHOWME TO THE OHIO U. INTERFRATERNITY COUN- CIL AS A SUPREME EXAMPLE OF GOOD COVERAGE BY A CAMPUS HUMOR MAGAZINE. Sincerely, The ex-publishers and staff, GREEN GOAT Ohio University - Box 561 Athens, Ohio (GREEN GOAT humor magazine has been owned by students Van Sauter, Dick Brown and Al Ebbers. Ohio University pressure has been exerted on them since they are off-campus. To avoid action to kill them or bring them back on campus, they have sold publishing rights to Durouchoux-DuPuy. Paris, France (!) and will be incor- porated in Cleveland, Ohio, this summer.-Editors) April 26, 1957 Dear Editors: I have received two copies of SHOWME and have given one to my classmates (Literary College, Wanchai, Hong Kong). 4 Lewis' Texaco Town Highway 40 At Sexton I have read the story written by Sherman Wu. It helps me to realize more about this matter. I once saw Sherman's photo in a Chinese newspaper with a few lines under it (saying): "To study in the U.S.A. is intolerable . . . " Sincerely yours, Fung Kam Pui 62-A Island Road Aberdeen, Hong Kong, B.C.C. March 25, 1957 Dear Sirs: Having looked up long enough from my grubby paste-pot and scissors the other day, I noticed that we haven't been receiving copies of your mag. Staring with our March parody issue, which comes along with this letter, you'll be getting the rest of the Northwestern PROFILES into the future. Yours truly, Wayne Becker Editor PROFILE 17 Music Building Northwestern University Evanston, Ill. Dear Wayne: Shame on you for letting one of those sneaky campus news- papers catch you up there on the Sherman Wu story, but delighted to hear from you guys. Permission granted if you want to run, with SHOWME credit, the followup Sherman did for us. -Skip Dear Readers: We've felt good as hell, and been told to go there also, in general reaction to the Wu story (March, 1957) both on campus and every- where else. We only wish some of the bigots who are responsible for such actions which resulted in the story were literate enough to see what their stupidity results in, such as the Chinese newspaper photo caption mentioned above. It's a shame that the United States Information Agency has to work so hard to clarify such happenings from our own country instead of concentrating fully on slashing apart Moscow and Peiping pronouncements. We're also tickled that the "Post-Dispatch" has shown reprint interest in the story. We regret that many persons turn the other way on printing this material. SHOWME'S pages, however, will continue to be open for things that should be said as well as light foolishness. So many of us find that we are taught that Journalism should be one thing only to find our instructors practicing quite differently. They are the small people. But we've listened hard, and found there were some who be- lieve in us and would rather teach than use their solid and thought provoking experience for materialistic success. Their quiet success is assured. And they are receivers of a debt we can't fully repay but will always have in mind and ask about to ourselves, "Would this be a disappointment or does it reflect what they had so little time to get over but somehow thought we would retain." We have, if they'll give us a little time to let it settle. There is a larger audience that wants facts; how, where and why they happened. Those are the people this generation hopes to write for. As far as we're concerned, they're the people who will not be disappointed when the chips are down. Journalism is not for harlots and bigots no matter where they are, how big their house or how they got there. Editors 5 "THE KEG" THE HI FI HOUSE ...their last fling Editors' Ego Higher education has had lit- tle effect in changing attitudes of American students who general- ly are smug, self-satisfied and unwilling to change the status quo. Students are largely glorious- ly contented in their day-to-day activities and in their outlook on the future. They are self-cen- tered, intending to look out for themselves first and expect oth- ers to do likewise. They are con- formists who at the same time see little need to insist that each and every person conform to the socially accepted standard. But they do not intend to crusade for, for instance, non-discrimina- tion, merely to accept it as it comes. Has this statement made you mad? If it did, you're the type we'd like to see more of on SHOWME. Then why disagree with our own statement? Simply be- cause it is not our own. The first two paragraphs are taken as direct quotes from one Philip E. Jacob, reporting 15 years of college research to the National Conference on Higher Education within earshot of a UP correspondent. Let's face it. He has some points. But like anyone in an academic tower, he loses much in trying to study a group he watches but is not a definite part of. We are. And we've tried to make SHOWME this school year not only a platform for good car- toonists and witty attempts at flashing back at you some of the funnier points of campus life, but think we've given you some thoughts now and then and judging from the reaction, we've hit. A 1,000 gain in circulation over last year means that we said what many students say to themselves now and then . and still given them (you) a number of good laughs at the same time. Those who have called some of our contents "smut" and re- ferred to content generally as nothing but "cartoons and dirty jokes" are really not worth re- plying to. It shows they have not even read us. And we doubt if "War and Peace" would attract them if if were run in install- ments with author credit to a business school junior. All year we've fought the bat- tle of what belongs in SHOWME, basically, of what SHOWME is. We've fought it and stood up for things like the Sherman Wu feature, serious fiction pieces, our short-lived supplement and even old Thurlow. "SHOWME'S a humor magazine," was their argument - "There's no place for things like that in it." But SHOWME is an odd beast - not quite fish nor fowl. Be- ing entirely different from other campus publications, College Farmer, Shamrock or Maneater, it fills the gap they leave. Hu- mor has a universality all its own, apart from any localized in- terest. But if SHOWME is not faced with the immediacy of a newspaper and has the time to mull over and interpret news- worthy item of campus interest and the space and format for serious ideas, as well as light- hearted froth, should we avoid it? We think not. We sincerely be- lieve that material we've printed this year has raised SHOWME a little above the level of pure foolishness and made it reflect the ideas and ideals of campus life. Some comments have been the basis for a lot of fun around the office. We remember the local minister who based an attack on this year's SHOWME on seeing his son reading an off-color joke in an issue of SHOWME a few years ago. He even threatened to spon- sor a "humor" magazine himself. When one of our writers offered staff help on how to set up such a magazine and advise a staff on the mechanics of producing it . . . and then wrote a report of the slightly outdated attack so we could print it . . . the man suddenly called up and asked us to forget the remarks he had made. Such is the Columbia way. More often we find criticism among persons who buy the mag- azine but complain we're "not arty enough and should go after the discriminating student" who sits around alone and has halluci- nations that he is Philip Wylie. Unfortunately, those persons can- not even produce such material themselves though they might try setting up a tape recorder next to themselves during a beer (Cont'd page 34) The FRANK SULLIVAN QUINTETTE What, Us Worry? We, the undersigned, demand a retraction of the malignant slam against our hero and ideal, Alfred E. Neuman, as printed in your April issue. You must be pretty hard up for cheap humor if you must resort to an attempt to defame one of the most lovable, kind and courageous persons the world has known. Anyone who merely looks at Alf can tell that he is not "no damn good," as you would have the students of this University believe. We who know him and love him demand that his good name be restored. Donna J. Smith Bob Fyfe George A. Patton Jack L. Stubblefield Dennis Stlankal Gerald McCreary Donald L. Ward Robert Bomgaars Dick Craig John J. Barbagallo R. E. Fain Alden Shipp Linda Clayton Ruth Gerard John F. Mason Hy Schooley Donald J. Gallagher Jasper Pulistuzo Emmel E. Buiser Judd Yrgnes Chuck Batch Jim Sanders Barry Heyken J. C. Long Buddy Bennett Peto Herborn Elaine Smith Don Hoehne Stan Krueger Jerome Willingham Rita Howe Ronnie Schwartz Allie Wolf C. E. Dale L. W. Pickering J. N. Chick John Thornton Tom Mollenslarys Sharm Rotsch Quijen Staffard Robert Short Jim Miles Charlie Lashley Ralph S. Hicks Norbert Abersworthy Elaine Brown Larry Runge Ken J. Mattin Frank Mazzuca Floyd Stone Jo Underwood Russ Sloan Joel Friste Milton Stamper Olga Galubovich Karl Miller Morrie Soltz Irv Hammer Ken Fenton Gordon Pinster Sam Drusch Dave LaRoche Ronald Utoux Bugg Van Pert Gene Grabbe Gene Kammer Ruby G. Cyed Julie Allen Ruth Huskey Earlr M. Vansadt John Stout Harry Anastas Vicky Hums Bill Brooks Ben Ely Barbara Simmons Gary Cook Rich Bakker Richard L. Sommich Neil W. Wiedelhehr Keith R. Wallace Joe Faulkner Jerry Odor Owen F. Luecke Ron Day Bill Crum Bob M. Cones Leroy Herman Bill Humphrey Bill Cramford Dear Neumaners: The very least you could do would be to sign your signatures clearly so we could read them and spell 'em right in type. Showme VOLUME 33 JUNE, 1957 NUMBER NINE EDITORS Skip Troelstrup Nanci Schelker BUSINESS MANAGER Dick Johnston Brack Hinchey PHOTOS Joe Van Trump Charlotte Peaslee OFFICE MANAGER Pat Deatherage Alex Seconk EDITORIAL ASSISTANT Dick Noel Alex Seconk PUBLICITY Judy Miller Margi Foster SUBSCRIPTIONS Joanne Petefish Alex Seconk FEATURES Ron Soble Alex Seconk CIRCULATION Bob Clatanoff Ruth Muff EXCHANGES Carolyn Maas Alex Seconk ADVERTISING Gene Scott Bob Weinbach ART J. J. Aasen Barney Kinkade JOKES Ginny Turman Alex Seconk FEATURES BUT I DON'T LIKE TO TALK ABOUT IT ______ 14 THE EARTH IS FLAT _____ ___ _ 18 FAMOUS QUOTATIONS, centerspread ----------20 WHY CAN'T JOHNNY STUDY? ________-- _ 24 GEMS FROM OUR NEWSSTANDS ___ - 26 PEOPLE I'VE MET THIS YEAR ------- ------- 32 THE RED SARI -- --------------- -------36 In Paris, it's frankness, In the New Yorker, it's life, In a professor, it's clever: But in Showme, It's censored. SHOWME is published nine times during the college year by the students of the University of Missouri. Office: 302 Read Hall. Columbia, Mo. All rights reserved. Unsolicited manuscripts will not be returned unless accompanied by a self-addressed, stamped envelope. Advertising rates furnished on request. National Advertising Representatives: W. B. Bradbury Co., 122 East 42nd St., New York City. Printers: Modern Litho-Print Co., Jefferson City, Mo. Price: 25c a single copy; subscriptions by mail, $3.00. Editors' phone numbers: GI. 3-4053 or GI. 2-9855. 9 Finals are here, the campus is dead, So is Alex - full of lead; I prefer a knife - there's less to fear, Mix me a drink and wait 'til next year. Around The Columns A beer tavern at three o'clock in the afternoon. The beer is cold, the bratenders are intelligent, by credit is good, the pretzels are crisp, my credit is good, the customers are interesting, the bowling machine works, the stools are soft and my credit is good. And it's so convenient. I mean you get out of class and you're walking toward home and by damn all of a sudden you're walking right past it and hell, there's just one thing to do. Just walk in and see how the beer is holding out. It's holding out fine. AND IT'S the middle of May and people are thinking about grad- uating. Since I have never grad- uated I really can't tell you with any degree of certainty just what goes on in the minds of those who are, but I know for a fact that the guy sitting next to me is not too concerned one way or the other. He is sort of patting his hands on the bar and chanting "James Dandy to the Rescue" in a sha- ky baritone, and he has this big nasty looking cigar clenched be- tween his teeth. Frankly, he is a sad dog from hunger. The only time he takes the cigar out of his mouth or quits chanting about James Dandy is when he tells a joke, and since both the cigar smoke and the James Dandying have practically been driving me out of my mind, I have been a very attentive audi- ence for his jokes. Sort of Joe Enthralled, you know. In the past two hours he has told 27 jokes, most of which I have been fa- miliar with since I was in the fourth grade, and three of which I am inclined to believe were not jokes at all, because as of yet he has not gotten around to tel- ling me the punch line, and the last of these was over a half hour ago. I mean he is liable to come out with it any time now, so until then I am not going to jump to any conclusions. He may just like to tell jokes that way. Sort of staggered. But one of them was pretty good. One of the jokes, I mean. He went all the way through with this one, too, and gave the punch line and everything. It's about the guy who could sell tooth brushes to the Indians in Albuquerque, New Mexico. You ever heard it? It goes like this . . . SEE, THERE was this big toothbrush concern which sold toothbrushes all over the U.S., and this toothbrush concern's president had a big map in his office which told just how many toothbrushes were being sold in every part of the country. Well, at this certain time, the presi- dent noticed that there wasn't no toothbrushes at all being sold to the Indians in Albuquerque, New Mexico. None. And, as time went by, there was less and less being sold, so the president de- cided he had to do something about it. I mean it was sort of a smirch on the company's rec- ord, you know, to have one re- gion where sales were so low. So the president upped and started sending his best salesmen into the area in hopes that they could pull the sales up, but it didn't do no good. He kept send- ing in his best men, and sales kept dropping. It began to look like there wasn't nobody could sell toothbrushes to the Indians in Albuquerque. THE OTHER night I was sit- ting in one of the local beer tav- erns reading the signs behind the bar, and I noticed an inter- esting thing. This bar where I was at had beer on tap, or draw beer, or whatever you want to call it. You can get it a glass at a time. Well, I was reading the signs, as I said, and I began to notice that on all the signs that pertained to this beer by the glass, it said "On Draught". You know, like Schlitz on draught, or Bud on draught, or Michelob on draught, and like that. Every one, it said "Draught." What made it interesting - to me, anyway - was that when a guy went up to get one of them, he never says "Gimmee a draught." Never. He says "One draw," or "Gimmee a glass" or "Draw one, please," but never "Gim- mee a draught." Now I kind of like the sound of "draught" my- self. It sounds like you're get- ting a couple of gallons. But no- body ever says "draught." Why not? That's all I ask is just why not? I just want to know why not, that's all, just why not? Raise hell. But you know, it does sound pretty good. Gimmee a bloody Draught. Yeah man. SO THIS president, who was near a basket case by this time, started putting ads in the papers for salesmen. And whenever someone answered his ad, why the president would outfit him with toothbrushes and send him down to Albuquerque, and hope the sales would move up. But they didn't. They kept going down. The president was in a quandary (which is something like a rock-quarry, only more- so). HERE IS A SMALL item printed in the April 25 edition of the Louisiana Press Journal, a small newspaper printed in the town of the same name, which is renowned for breathtaking front page news. Here it is. Mrs. James Ashcraft, who lives on Dougherty Pike, was in Han- nibal Saturday on business. She said that she and her husband planted Irish potatoes on Good Friday. The planting this year was earlier than last. The yield last year was not very satisfac- tory. Next year Mrs. Dougherty plans to fool everybody and plant on Thanksgiving. WELL, THEN the president put a full page ad in every pa- per in the country, with his per- sonal telephone listed, and sat back in his office to wait. The very first call came only five minutes after the papers hit the streets. "Hello," said the president. You want thombody to thell toothbruthes?" "What?" "I said, do you want thombody to thell toothbruthes?" "Uh, yes, that's right, but-" "Well, I can thell em." "UH, well, perhaps you can, but you have a slight speech im- pediment, there, and it might hinder-" "I can thell anything." "Hmmm. Yes." Now you understand that the poor president was at his wit's end by this time. The sales in Albuquerque were still plum- meting, and he was willing to gamble on anything. So he told the tongue-tied guy it was a deal, outfitted him up with tooth- brushes and paraphernalia, and put him on the plane for Albu- querque, hoping for the best. NOT LONG AGO the Ford Motor Company began casting about for a name for its new line of automobiles - to be put on the market this fall. Back of the new car was nine years work and $250 million, and the Ford people wanted a perfect name for their self-admitted perfect car. Therefore they went to the nation's leading poetess, Miss Marianne Moore, for the last word in automotive imagery. For two months Miss Moore submit- ted names: The Ford Silver Sword, Hurricane Hirundo, Mon- gosse Civique, Thunder Crester, Dearborn Diamante, Magigravre, Pastelogram, Regina-rex, Taper Racer, Varsity Stroke, Hurri- cane Aquila, Arstranaut, Chap- arral, Tir a l'arc, Triskelion, Pluma, Piluma, Hurricane Ac- cipter, Andate con Moto, and her final, searing brainstorm, Utopi- an Turtletop. For eleven months Miss Moore heard nothing. Then, finally, she received a short note: "We have chosen a name out of the more than 6,000-odd candidates that we gathered. It fails somewhat of the resonance, gaiety and zest we were seeking. But it has a personal dignity and meaning to many of us here. Our name, dear Miss Moore, is - Edsel". Edsel. And after all that brain- storming. This must be what they call poetic justice. Or some- thing. THE NEXT MONTH the pres- ident happened to look up at his big map and he noticed that the sales for toothbrushes had tripled in Albuquerque. The next month they had tripled again. And the next. The fourth month the sales quadrupled, and by this time Albuquerque was the hottest toothbrush spot on the map. Well, the president was inectasy of course, and he fig- gered that if he could learn this tongue-tied guy's sales tech- nique, he'd spread it around the company to the other salesmen. So he called the tongue-tied guy and told him he was coming down to see him, boarded a plane, and was off. I SEE IN the newspaper that our Air Force is currently per- fecting a device which will elec- tronically intercept enemy mis- siles and turn them around to head back where they came from, thereby unnerving the enemy no end. However, secret reports have it that the enemy is also perfecting such a device, to be used to re-intercept their mis- siles when they come back and send them back where they were headed for in the first place, whereupon we will no doubt fall into the spirit of the thing and re-re-intercept them and send them . . . and then they and . . so . . Which all leads me to think that the people who drive nitro- glycerin trucks haven't got such a bad life, after all. WHEN THE president got off the plane at Albuquerque the tongue-tied guy met him, and after the president explained that he wanted to learn his sales technique, they retired to the tongue-tied guy's hotel room. He set the president down in a chair, opened up a suitcase 13 and gave him one of the firm's toothbrushes. Then he opened up another suitcase and took out a small white tube, which he un- screwed, and he put some of the stuff on the president's tooth- brush. "Now," he said, "bruth your teeth." So the president brushed his teeth like mad, but all of a sud- den he got this horrible expres- sion on his face, spat out the gunk in his mouth, and said, "Great Scott, man! This stuff tastes like horse manure!" "Yeth," said the tongue-tied guy, "I tell 'em it comes off their teeth." So another year has gone by, and I'll say adoo . . . the beer has been fine . . the parties have been great (of course next time I'll shave) . . . and there's no- thing I'd like better than to stay around awhile . . . but there's a banana boat waitin' down on the corner . . Adios, you mothaff . -Dick Noel I was a prisoner of war but. " I DON'T LIKE TO TALK ABOUT IT" Don't get me wrong, I don't mind talking about it, but there is something I would like to get straight. Everytime it's brought up in the conversation that I was a P.O.W., people look at me like I was "death", or something. Frequently they ask questions like "How did you live through the atrocities" or "How did you keep from going crazy". In answer to the first question, let me say that "atrocities" weren't something daily like roll call and, in fact, were rare as hell. The answer to the second question isn't as easy, but here are a few examples of how we got our "kicks". Korean summers are short and pleasant, and Americans, no mat- ter where they are, like to get suntans. The Chinese had never heard of getting a sun tan and ob- jected vigorously to the prison- ers lying around in clear view, so you had to get your tans in secret. One quiet afternoon, three or four men decided to make it to a nearby wheat field. Although guarded, the wheat field afforded a nice place to lie without being disturbed. In fact, it was so quiet and secluded that in a few hours about fifty other prisoners fol- lowed. When the guards changed, the new guard didn't know the wheat field was the prisoners' Riviera. Careful not to let any- thing escape his observation, he walked around singing neat lit- tle Korean songs, engrossed in his duty. Suddenly "CHOW" echoed through the valley. All at once the prisoners stood up and the guard was terrorized! All around him hundreds of men were jump- ing up and calmly walking to- ward the barracks. Like flies when disturbed, the field was crowded with men. The guard was so shook that this idea was used in other variations to break the monotony. One time it got real dead around the camp so everyone or- ganized and leveled a place for a basketball court. Backboards were made and set up, a hog's paunch served as a bladder for the ball cut out of combat boot tops. The first game went over big and the more curious Chinese guards enjoyed watching. It got to the point that there were sev- eral watching each game. One afternoon the whole camp decided they wanted to play at the same time. It started as a regular game with the Chinese guards sitting around holding hands (they were so swishey, real doll-dolls). In a matter of minutes the number of players increased to 15 on each side, then 20 and so on until 32 men com- prised a team. A minor change 14 in rules made anything legal as long as the ball went through the hoop. What a panic, blood and guts basketball. At the half there were 8 casualties and the score was 2-0. There were so many things to do to kill time. The funniest guy in existence, Shorty Estabrook (5'2 1/2") hated Communists with profound vigor. Every night for several nights he organized sing- ing groups and led them in marching and combat songs of the various branches of service. He always closed his productions with that old goodie: Estabrook (screaming) - "ON THE LAND" Group - "Ta tatatata" Estabrook - "IN THE AIR" Group - "Barrrrrooommoon" Estabrook - "ON THE SEA" Group - "Waup Waup Waup" (call to stations) One quiet night when every- one was supposed to be asleep, Estabrook ran into the night with nothing but his shorts on, scream- ing "ON THE LAND!" The whole company responded in perfect unison. By the time the last "Waup, Waup, Waup" echoed through the camp, the guards were on their feet, looking for the cause of the disturbance. It was nearly dawn before they ended their search, with the de- cision that it was only the pris- oners, trying to start a riot. Our prison camp was located on one of the major roads link- ing the Northern and Southern Korea, and Chinese trucks re- turning from the front lines passed through the camp. Since they were the "enemy", we had to defend our prison camp from the "invaders". This is one form of amusement you would have to see to really appreciate. As the trucks rumbled around a horseshoe curve at one end of our camp, and slowed down to pass through, those tired defeated Red fighting men were invari- ably shocked at what they saw. An authentic combat platoon (T.O. & E.), in perfect timing, dis- bursed to their various sections. Machine guns were quickly set up, riflemen in a crouched posi- tion raced to cover, and auto- matic rifle teams clicked with precision. As the trucks ap- proached, grenades were rolled under it, while small arms and machine guns filled the air with a deadly chatter. It was perfect, not one truck ever made it through! This show of might al- ways aroused comment (loud comment) in the enemy trucks as they were repeatedly wiped from existence. The only bad thing about this "annihilation" of the "invaders" is that we didn't have any real weapons. It was all a pantomime. (Over) It was only a week after this that excitement really broke out. Boredom had enveloped the camp and only occasional incidents would come along to liven things up. Our camp was built on a hill overlooking a gigantic lake. The barracks were around the crest in a semi-circle, with two pla- toons on each side. One quiet af- ternoon someone from the first platoon went around to the sec- ond platoon building and began hauling their personal belongings down to the lake and throwing them in. He was caught on his sec- ond trip, tied to a post and told to scream "help" or else! In a few seconds, men from the first pla- toon were coming to his rescue. Just as the first "rescuer" at- tempted to untie his ropes, the second platoon captured him and threw him into a big hole near- by. The guards noted the distur- bance and began to raise their eyebrows in wonder. It would have probably ended quietly if the man they threw in the lake hadn't been Tullio, and Tullio hadn't escaped. But the minute Tullio (known as the "instigator") escaped, he went and got his platoon and came back to wipe out the first platoon. The two platoons clash- ed in physical combat in a small clearing between their buildings. The dust began to rise as men were knocked down, groans and battle slogans were screamed out above the roar of .battle and casualties began to mount. The limping and tired were replaced with fresh troops gathered by Tullio who never did swing a fist. Soon the entire camp was in this little area fighting like hell. Small groups were chasing each other around, releasing "prisoners". The leader of the second platoon was captured and carried to the beach where rocks were piled all over him to keep him quiet. All this time the guards were trying to stop the fight by yelling "NO,NO! iss bad, somebody hurt" and some even tried to stop it physically. These unfor- tunates would get caught, shoved from the edge to the center of the fight, roughed up and shoved out as the fight continued. The noise and excitement caused by this battle couldn't be ignored. The guards came out in full force, with bayonets fixed, in anticipa- tion of a riot. Machine guns were set up and burp guns were lev- eled. They moved toward the group with frightened look, but when they got within six feet the fighting suddenly stopped and the prisoners limped, stag- gered or walked back to their former occupations. The Chinese wanted to know if anyone had been killed, and couldn't under- stand why everyone was laugh- ing. So the years dragged on, every day bringing some new incident, some fresh idea. Even the nights were active . . . The mysterious foghorn every night at midnight always threw the guards into frenzied action (They didn't know it was only Sizimore with his lead pipe signaling the arrival of a new day) . . . Our primitive "Bop" sessions that made the Chinese wonder if the Americans were really civilized . .When Shimshock would dress like a wo- man and do the strip tease for a floor show . . . The night Duke decided the Chinese officers' meeting was getting too dirty and threw a bucket of water through an open window to "clean it up", and the time one of the Chinese guards broke up a "ghost story" session in a room about fifteen feet square and 69 people came out of the tiny room, each saying "good night" in Chinese. As a matter of fact, I think the Chinese signed their end of the armistice just so they could get rid of us. Jealous, probably. Try as they might, they just never were part of the gang! - Gene Scott Pattern Once upon a time a noted psychologist il- Lustrated a curious manifestation with a pistol. He snuck up behind a scholar who was deep In meditation, and without letting out a peep, Blasted away in close proximity to the reader's ear - Blammo! He did this until he had expended all his ammo, And, as he expected, the noise distracted the subject a bit. As a matter of fact, the distraction amounted to a fit. Luckily, the scholar was a normal human being, And this gave the psychologist the opportunity of seeing, At first hand, what he later called, to the intense satisfaction Of the scientific faction, The Startle Pattern. And luckily too, it wasn't me who had his stirrups blasted, Because I have a pistol too, and the perceptive dastard With the wry sense of humor would find it very clever T6 find a pattern in this, his last endeavor. -Bob Williams 16 Easy to look at on a warm summer day. Soft Summer Breeze Carolyn Wilkerson Photos by Joe Van Trump THE By Dan Hays It has recently come to my at- tention that some people do not believe that the earth is flat. This sort of heresy must be put down, for we are living in an age of enlightenment. Some of my ene- mies have gone so far as to vici- ously and venomously attack me for my stand, causing me much pain and almost ruining "that which is more precious than gold," my good name. But the truth does not lie, and the truth is that the world we live on is flat and square - not hexagonal, pyramidal or triangu- lar, as some claim. Those who suppose that the world is round are so obviously wrong that I will not even bother to point out their fallacy. In this paper I will not shame- fully try to appeal to your emo- tions as those who have been spreading geographical heresies have, but I will state my argu- ments objectivelly, for I know the readers of this essay are much too intelligent to be duped by such unethical sophistries and are insulted by the low opinion of them that my opponents hold. As for the flatness of the world - just look around. This simple action will convince you within no reasonable shadow of a doubt that the earth is flat. This experiment, combining the best features of common sense and scientific investigation, is even more effective if conducted on the plains of South Texas. It must be admitted that the earth is not perfectly flat, since hills and mountains do exist. But the other side of the mountain is low ground also, and while the earth may not be flat as a well-made table top, because of its great size the mountains and hills appear as insignificant bumps and in no way cancel the overall flatness. I feel that now some of my more skeptical readers are ask- ing, "But why do ships seem to sink down behind the horizon when they are watched on a clear day? Surely then the earth is not flat." Fallacious arguments are easy to disprove. The ships do not ac- tually sink below the horizon: they just seem to, partly because of the distance and partly be- cause of peculiar atmospheric conditions. Or they seem to be- cause space is curved and was curved even before Einstein pub- lished his General Theory of Rel- ativity, but curved in strange ways: and one of these ways is apparent only to one watching a ship "sinking" on the horizon. A fuller conception of the earth's flatness can be obtained by meditating upon the Analogy of the Floor. The next time you stop for a cup of coffee at the Student Union, the next time you are walking through Jesse Hall, the next time you have a few moments free during class, look down at the floor. If you are at all sober you will observe that the floor is flat. And so is that great floor, the earth. Unfortunately we cannot just look about us and determine that the earth is square. But we can turn to the eighth verse, twen- tieth chapter of the Book of Rev- elation and read " . . . the four corners of the earth . . . ", a plain reference to the earth's squareness. A figure cannot have four corners and be a triangle, or a pentagon. Nor can it be elliptical nor have an uneven fig- ure, such as a spoonful of Jello has. A four-cornered figure is a square and so is the earth: the Bible says so and no one can say that the Bible isn't true, ex- cept evidently my opponents, who have shown their true spir- itual, moral, and ethical charac- EARTH IS FLAT! ters by audaciously disputing God's Word. Although it has been shown conclusively that the earth is flat and square, I feel I must an- swer some objections that may trouble those sincerely on the path to right thinking, even though these objections are but superficially convincing. One ob- jection comes from the question, what happens when someone falls off the edge of the earth and, further, that the earth is not made so that anyone can fall off it. I concede the last point; with- out doubt a wall twenty or thirty feet high has been placed around the perimeter of the earth by Divine Providence just to pre- vent unnecessary destruction of life. But this wall must be broken in places now - after all, the earth has been around for sev- eral thousand years, too long for any wall to stand completely in- tact - and from these broken places sleeping mariners and too daring travelers plunge to cer- tain death in outer space. How else can one explain ships that have never been found? To my opponent's objection about the absence of first-hand reports, I must point out that only an imbecile could expect a person plunging headlong down- ward to pull out pencil and pa- per, write his impression, and toss the paper upward, hoping for it to land not too water- soaked on the shore of some land with literate inhabitants. The increasingly prevalent idea that the earth is in the shape of a pyramid or a hemisphere has been pushed forward lately with arguments that are as thin of substance as the thin air that evidently gave them birth, and that are dispelled with no great- er force than that required to push one's hand through the at- mosphere. The fallacy in all of them is easily uncovered by call- ing to mind how long ago every- thing on earth would have slid down and off the edge. We live, as I said before, in an age of enlightenment and of freedom of opinion. Anyone is perfectly free to believe that the earth is hemispherical, star- shaped, or molded in the form of Marilyn Monroe. But those who have faith in decency, truth, morality, hope, those who love God and country - in short, all those who have not left the bright and shining road for cor- ruption and heresies - will hold to the only true belief concern- ing the shape of the earth. End Ernie's Steak House Famous Quotations Out A Mobile Unmention- able. That was the week MAN- EATER had only 8 pages. Cramming for finals. of Focus Sometimes it's hard to find your own car after the 8:40 crowds get in. I've enjoyed this semester. In spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to what she's been thinking about all year long anyway. World's Greatest News Story By Jim Albright This article is a sequel to the now-infamous book, "Why Johnny Can't Read." In this ar- ticle Mr. Albright carries through on the thoughts and actions of Johnny as he gets to college, and still can't read. Why Can't Johnny Study? Actually Johnny is a pretty good boy. He's a fraternity man, but don't hold that against him. He needs security. Johnny still can't read. And it isn't his fault. It's the fault of all those stupid teachers in the first few primary grades who thought it was un- sanitary to learn to read pho- netically. Besides, they couldn't read either. Really, the answer is plain to see. If Johnny can't read, then certainly he can't study. And that would end the case. But let us pretend that through some slip-up in his grade school ca- reer, Johnny learned how to put his ABC's together. And he went off to college. Johnny starts off right well in college . up to that part of the semester where the classes be- gin. Then he started to lag be- hind a bit. And that is the crux of the whole thing. Why did he lag? Why couldn't he study? Well, one reason may be poli- tics. It can't really be called poli- tics because that term usually implies a two-sided deal. What really happened was that John- ny's fraternity gambled right and happened to support the right party at school election time, and so naturally a few important posts were given to some of the members . . . Some of the mem- bers who needed something for their job application forms. And so naturally Johnny had a chance to be interviewed. It took a long time for Johnny to break into politics. He spent three solid weeks going to boards and get- ting interviewed. Finally he was lucky enough to be accepted and he was appointed a member of a board. Then for the next thir- teen weeks he sat on a board in- terviewing other applicants for board positions. He isn't quite sure of what board he is on, or what he does, but they say over there that he is doing a darn good job, and may soon move up to the more important board that picks the board that he is on now, which would really be SOMETHING. And think of how that will look on a job applica- tion form. But although boards and poli- tics take time, there is still am- ple time left over, or is there? One must date when one is in college, or one hasn't been to college. That's what it says in the brochures, but not the same way. So on Monday night there is chapter meeting, and after that the night is shot anyway, so he might as well go out and have a coke or a beer with someone, depending on his financial situ- ation. Then Tuesday night is the night to see the show before it changes. And Wednesday night is date night, of course. Thurs- day night is the night before Fri- day night, so he can't study then, and Friday and Saturday and Sunday nights are strictly en- forced date nights. Some nights dates are interrupted by board meetings, but this can be over- come when he has his girl ap- pointed a member of the board, and they can sit in bliss and pick new board members together. It's cheap too. That shoots the evenings and leaves the after- noons and the mornings. There are classes in the morn- ings, and that leaves only the afternoons. And being farsighted Johnny has left the afternoons open for study. But after all the night gadding about, the after- noons are only good for picking up a nice nap to prepare for the evening, and it is all a vicious circle. Added to the aforemen- tioned deterrents to study may UNIVERSITY OF MISSOURI Admissions Office NOTE: A fee of $1.00 must be paid for each petition for change in course after the last day of regular registration. To avoid the fee, petitions properly approvedmustbe filed in person within this period in the Admissions office during regular office hours. s part of petition to Admissions Office. be serenades, "chapter func- tions," curve raisers, essay ex- ams, term papers, hinking, drink- ing, thinking, pledge training, bull sessions, poker, (bridge for the women), Engine Week, J- Week, etc., Stephens girls, Christ- ian girls, girls, and Mah-Jong. With all these things going on at once, how is it possible for any thinking parent to ask John- ny why he can't study? These are so many things that he must do. But Johnny does learn one thing at college . . not to let his studies interfere with his ed- ucation. And they don't. There is a very good reason. An ex- cellent reason . . . he didn't buy any books. But Johnny will be a success in life, if no where else. Why? Because he is sociable, he is like- able, he is aggressive, he is good looking, he is a greek, and be- cause his aunt just died and left him ten million dollars. End BROADWAY DRIVE-IN TASTEE FREEZE Missourian Globe-Democrat Star Gems From Our Newsstands . . . Worth a Second Look Thurlow Part IX WINNERS of the SHOWME Short Story Contest FIRST PRIZE - "Gentlemen Songsters Off on a Spree" By Gerald Marsh SECOND PRIZE - "The Red Sari" By Mohan Bawa THIRD PRIZE - "The Legend of the Rock" Translated by Young Chang Gerald Marsh, winner of the $25 first prize, is in reality Pfc. Marsh of the U.S. Army. Sta- tioned at Ft. Leonard Wood, he will receive his discharge in four months. Before getting involved with Uncle Sugar, he studied journalism and drank beer at Ohio State. His story was pub- lished in the January issue of SHOWME.---- Mohan Bawa, whose story took second prize this year, was the first prize winner in the 1956 contest with his story "Mark of the Cobra". A senior in the School of Journalism, his home is in Poona, India and he has Story contest judges (left to right) Tom McAfee, William Hamlin and Charles Madden, all members of the English depart- ment, talk over a contest entry. been in the United States for three years. His story, "The Red Sari," is published in this issue. Winner of the third special award is a translation by Young Chang of an original Korean story written by Kim Tong Ri and pub- lished in the March issue of SHOWME. Young Chang is a grad- uate student in Journalism. Congratulations Graduates! Sudden Service Cleaners and Shirt Laundry Dinner guest: Will you pass the nuts, Professor? Professor (absent mindedly): Yes, I suppose so, but I really should flunk them. Two lunatics were playing a little game. What have I got here?" asked one with his hands cupped. "Three Navy patrol bombers," said the other. "Nope." "The Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra?" The loonie peeped into his cupped hands and said bellig- erently,"All right, smarty, who's conducting?" Where did you get that black eye? In the war. What war? Boudoir. I know a place where women don't wear anything - except maybe a string of beads once in a while. My gosh, where? Around their necks, stupid. The Italian Village People I've Met This Year THE FRESHMAN GIRL FOUND IN GREAT NUMBERS IN THE UNION & LIBRARY. SHE MOVES HER PLEDGE RIBBON TO A MORE DARING POSITION EACH DAY. WHEN INTRODUCED TO YOU, SHE WILL SAY SOMETHING LIKE, "OH! ARE YOU REALLY A CARTOONIST? MY GOODNESS, YOU DON'T LOOK LIKE ONE. REALLY!" SHE IS LEARNING NEW WORDS LIKE BEER, BARF, SHACK, CURVE, AND BLANKET PARTY. ADD TO HER VOCABULARY. BE GENTLE WITH HER. TELL HER THAT HER PLEDGE RIBBON FASCINATES YOU. THE WHEEL THE WHEEL GOES AROUND IN CIRCLES WITH OTHER WHEELS. LOOK CLOSELY, AND YOU'LL FIND, LIKE MOST WHEELS, HE USUALLY ENDS UPON A SHAFT. HE WILL ASK YOU TO PETITION FOR COFFEE HOUR CREAM COMMITTEE. BE RASH WITH HIM. SNARL. BARF A LITTLE. THE INSTRUCTOR HIS OUTSTANDING CHARACTERISTIC IS HIS INCOHERENT MUMBLE. DON'T CRUSH HIS BRIEFCASE. IT IS FULL OF OLD SHOWMES HE PICKED OP AT THE FACULTY CLUB. BE COMPASSIONATE WITH HIM. SHOW HIM YOU CARE. GO TO HIS CLASS ON WEDNESDAYS. THE UNION GIRL SHE PLAYS BRIDGE. BRIDGE BRIDGE. BRIDGE BRIDGE BRIDGE BRIDGE. YOUR 'M' MAN YOU CAN'T SEE THE BIG ONES. THEY'RE LOCKED IN ROTHWELL TILL SEPTEMBER. CAN BE OVERHEARD SAYING THINGS LIKE, "IM HUNGRY. LET GO OUT AND KILL A COW."- AND, -"DA-A-A-H, YOU CANT WEAR THAT JACKET!" BE CIVIL WITH HIM. GIVE HIM A BITE OF YOUR HEALTH BAR. ASK HIM WHAT PLAY HE SCORED ON LAST WEEKEND. THE LAMPUS GENERAL HE IS EASY TO IDENTIFY BE- CAUSE HE WEARS HIS SNAPPY UNIFORM TO CLASS DAILY, OR TO THE LIBRARY AT NIGHT. QUEEN-TYPE GIRLS USUALLY CLASSIFY HIM AS A THIRTY CALIBER BORE. HE LIKES BOY SCOUTS BECAUSE THEY SALUTE HIM. BE CHEER- FUL WITH HIM. SMILE. LAUGH, IF YOU FEEL LIKE IT. TRY TO KEEP THE DOGS FROM CHASING HIM. ALEX SECONK HE WAS IN THE BACK ROOM AT ANOY'S ONE DAY BUT I DIDN'T HANG AROUND TO TALK TO HIM. THE CAMPUS POLITICIAN HE'LL SMILE, SHAKE BOTH YOUR HANDS, AND PICK THE LINT OFF YOUR GRUBBY SPORT COAT. HE'LL PROMISE YOU WET-STRENGTH NAPKINS IN THE UNION. BE NICE TO HIM DONT STEP ON HIS FINGERS WHEN HE BRUSHES THE DUST OFF YOUR SHOES. SMILE AS YOU STICK THE ICE-PICK IN HIM. YOUR SHOWME SALESMAN THE MOST WELL ADJUSTED MAN ON CAMPUS. HE COMES OUT OF THE SHACK ONCE EACH MONTH TO TAKE YOUR QUARTERS. BEER IS UP A NICKEL THIS YEAR. COUNT YOUR CHANGE. THE RUN-OF-THE-MILL COLLEGE MAN A LEVEL- HEADED FELLOW, HE IS CURRENTLY SAVING HIS MONEY FOR A MARLBORO TATOO. HE MAY SNARL AT YOU BECAUSE HE HAS PROBLEMS LIKE PARKING, EARLY CLASSES, LOST LAUNDRY, DELAYED CHECKS FROM DAD, AND THINGS LIKE THAT GIVE HIM YOUR NO. 2 WALLACE IN - VADER IF HE TRIES TO BORROW IT AND SMILE UNDERSTANDINGLY. THEN HE WILL BE MELLOW. THE TYPICAL COED PERHAPS SHE SITS ON YOU RIGHT IN SEAT 73 IN CONTEMPORARY EUROPE. SHE KICKS OFF HER SHOES DURING CLASS AND COPIES YOUR NOTES WHEN SHE GETS BEHIND. IT IS A DULL MONDAY MORNING, THIS IS YOUR THIRD HOUR OF DRY LECTURE, AND YOU BEGIN TO WONDER WHY YOU DIDN'T CUT. THEN SHE LOOKS UP AND SMILES AND YOU DECIDE THIS IS A PRETTY DAMN GOOD CLASS AFTER ALL. BE GENTLE WITH HER. REAL GENTLE. LAST FLING (cont'd) parlor session. And even then, the playback may convince them that road construction would be a better field. No, frankly, we're a little con- ceited. We think we got closer this year to what you want in a campus humor magazine. We printed what we, as editors, our- selves believed. We also printed what we did not agree with. Most of all, we got that opportunity to print such material because after a few issues some new faces started dropping into the office . . . faces from numerous groups. SHOWME was again be- coming a cross section of opin- ion and humor. But that would not be pos- sible without another channel being aware of that factor and supporting us. I'm referring to the "censor" whom we love to take apart now and then. Only one story and a few signed col- umns have emerged in battered shape which could hardly be re- constructed for printing. But page through some of our issues. Notice that there are a few fea- tures and articles which a cen- sor could easily pencil out and say, "Sorry, it MAY offend a few organizations." So let me state a firm convic- tion. NO CENSORSHIP OF SHOWME AT THE UNIVERSI- TY OF MISSOURI UNDER THE PRESENT SETUP CAN BE RE- SPONSIBLE FOR A POOR MAGazine. If the magazine ev- er lacks punch and humor it is because of the complete lack of campus talent, intellect, wit and failure of the editors alone. If SHOWME fails to tickle you or make you say "That's right, bud- dy, that's right. I wish I'd said that if I could write more than letters home for more money," then get rid of the editor. He's a fake and a fool. Get a new one . . . and don't wait to demand it. We think you'll continue to get a good magazine next year. We haven't set up a puppet. We've set up a student who thinks some of our angle this year is good, some could be dropped and there are more new ideas batting around in his head. Around him are others who have their ideas and we've seen that they're high enough to give the editor a rough go if his road gets too narrow or off beat. And that's the staff: Guys and gals like you who decided to say the magazine is good and they wanted to be an active part of it or decided they had a better an- gle and are shooting for a high editorial position later to prove their ideas. Come to think of it, we've printed cartoon and feature ma- terial from campus talents we have yet to meet! That's right. We're not interested in how you tie your shoes and who you date, but rather what you write and draw. And the feeling will carry on here, as Nanci and I have shoved on to paying for our own meals, is that nobody, least of all the young, should be preoccupied with succeeding financially. We feel that if you do what you feel you want to do you will be as happy as anyone could be in this materialistic world. If you're particularly happy about what SHOWME grew into this year and do more than just read, drop in next fall and smo- ther the editor with ideas and material. Make him KNOW you're here and have something to give. Compliment him if you think he's got the right angle. Give him hell if you disagree. You'll have a top-flight senior editorial staff next year. Don't let them down. It's been fun this year. It's been fun shooting picture paro- dies on Sunday mornings and dragging people out of the Union because nobody remembered to 34 line up our "stars." And there were beer busts and parties and beery gag meetings at the Shack. And selling SHOWMES in the Union tower when it was so cold no one would take their hands out of their pockets to buy a magazine. And minor skirmishes with our "arch rival," the Maneater. And it's been fun even when social life gets postponed because we inevitably end up putting an issue together on Saturday nights or over a holiday when everyone else has gone home and Columbia's the closest thing to a ghost town you ever saw. But if it wasn't for SHOWME, we prob- ably would never have appreci- ated the beauty of Columbia minus students. And there were the times we put the magazine together and find we counted wrong and have three extra pages. Then any- thing goes, as long as it's not ads. And the self-satisfied feeling we we finish another issue and sit over a beer at the Shack and say (six or seven times)-"Well, only eight more to go." Or four -or two - or one - and now, this is it. Hot damn! Yes, it's been fun. Anyone who handles this mag- azine has to give up a lot to give SHOWME to you. There are also rewards. He'll have to learn that if, in this year's case, an ODK meeting, Who's Who banquet and SDX meeting fall on the same night and the printer asks you to get down quick to iron out some magazine problems, that's where you'll be. You have the responsibility, above social rela- tions, to get out a magazine by deadline. And, believe me, what has had to be given up this year has been worth it. Because of you. This was a tremendous campus to put out a magazine on, not on classroom theory, but in ac- tuality. YOU backed us. And, by gawd, we love you for it! -Skip Troelstrup Swami's Snorts The sailor had missed his ship. He watched it majestically steam- ing through the Golden Gate. With his arms around the girl's waist and a gloomy look on his face, he muttered, "Now, honey, we're both in trouble." M.U. professors have a say- ing, "We can't get fired here for anything but immoral conduct, and by the time we're professors, we're too old for that." Hickory, Dickory, Dock The mouse ran up the clock The clock struck one, And bashed his brains out. Dear Dorothy Dix: I have read that every third child born in the world is Chinese. I am about to have my third child. Do you think it will be Chinese." Little Edna seemed to be en- joying herself thoroughly at the zoo with her father. As they were looking at the lions, how- ever, Edna suddenly got a very troubled look on her face, and her father asked her what the trouble was. "I was just wondering, dad- dy. In case a lion breaks loose and eats you, what number bus do I take home." Ralph, leading a handsome boxer dog on a leash: "Look, Bill, what I got for my wife this morning." Bill, staring in awestruck ad- miration: I sure wish I could make a trade like that. The Indian kept raising his hand and saying "Chance" each time a tourist passed by. Finally one of them asked him, "Why do you say chance? Other Indi- ans say how." "Me know how. Me want chance." Fern's Pantry by Mohan S. Bawa Amina crossed her legs on the divan. "I have been to the United States of America," she said in superior tone. She was the eldest of three children. Usha, seven, and Ravi, four, were sprawled indolently on the carpet in front of an unlit fireplace, Their mo- ther was knitting in the biggest armchair in the room. She wore spectacles and an absent-minded look. "I have, too", said Ravi. The Red Sari "You have not" snapped Ami- na. "Don't you remember only Daddy, Mummy and I went? You weren't even born!" "I was born. I was born. I was born." chanted Ravi. "Wasn't I born then, Mummy?" "No," his mother said. "You were still in Mummy's stomach," Usha said and giggled. "I was a princess in America," Amina said. "Mother picked me up and brought me to India." "And how are you brown?" asked mother. "Mummy and Daddy were crossing the Black Sea and she fell in," said Usha. "Just for that, clever Miss Usha, you are not getting the picture of Queen Elizabeth shak- ing hands with Danny Kaye", said Amina. "I don't want the silly pic- tur," said Usha. "I have one which you don't have. I have a picture of the princesses riding on ponies." Amina was clipping out pic- tures from old issues of the "Il- lustrated Weekly of India." Scraps of paper littered the liv- ing room carpet. Presently Ayah came in. She stood near Ravi, who pointedly ignored her. "Time for Ravi Baba's bath," she said. "Ayah, go 'way. I am not go- ing to bathe today." Ayah bent down and whisper- ed something into his ear and smiled secretly. Ravi got up and followed her out of the room with a mischievous twinkle. "Mother, Ayah bribes that child," Amina sid. "It is unethi- cal." "What does she promise him?" mother asked. "Oh, one day she promised him a kite, another day an extra serv- ing of halwa. Once she promised him a toad." "He put it in Daddy's bed but it was no use," said Usha. "Dad- dy always shakes out his pillow before sleeping on it." Suddenly mother sat up wildly in her chair. "The American!" she scream- ed. "I asked the young American doctor to tea. And look at the mess this room is in!" The next few moments were pandemonium as Amina picked up her scraps and old magazines and Usha began to pick up her toys that were sprawled around the room - an old bald-headed rag doll, a teddy bear and a stuffed elephant with its eyes pulled out. Mother scrambled around throwing things out of the room. Then she surveyed the room. The only thing that jarred her sight was the view of her two daughters, one fifteen and the other seven, standing and watch- ing her, one in a dirty green dress with purple spots on it and the other in an equally dirty purkar with jam spilt down the front. "Girls!" Mother said almost hysterically. "Go up to your rooms and change clothes this in- stant." At four o'clock the doctor still had not arrived so everybody sat down to tea. "What shall we say to him, mother?" asked Amina. "Let's ask him a silly ques- tion," Ravi said. "You know what I am going to say? I am going to say 'Why do Americans shake hands and not say 'Namaste' like we do?" "That WILL be like you," said Amina. "Oh, mother, I hate my name, I wish it was Lucy. Why didn't you call me Lucy?" "Mother, is the doctor related to Queen Victoria?" Usha asked. "Don't be silly," said Amina. "Queen Victoria was the Queen of England and the doctor is American." The doorbell rang shrilly and the tea-table became silent. Ayah ushered the doctor in, who was unusually young. Mother rose to greet him. " . . and Dr. Palmer, this is my brood. That is Amina over there. She is the one who takes violin lessons. Next to her is Usha - the little minx I told you about, and finally at the end of the table - Ravi, there's no- thing under the table - is our youngest - Ravi. And now, won't you sit down?" Mother spoke in the tone of voice reserved for visitors. Dr. Palmer, who had a ruddy complexion and brown hair, sat down next to Ravi and tweaked his ear. "Usha is going to ask you a silly question", Ravi announced. "And what may that be?" Dan Palmer asked. "Do you know how to say 'Na- maste'?" she said. He folded his hands in a ges- ture of greeting. Then he smiled. "Will that do?" he asked. "I can show you a yogi trick," Ravi said. "Not now," Amina said quick- ly. "Would you care for some more cake, Dr. Palmer?" Usha and Ravi began to whis- per. Dan and mother began to talk about the clinic and the kind of patients the doctor re- ceived. Amina was silent until Dan looked across to her. "I hear you play the violin. Do you like it?" "I love it! Have you met Ye- hudi Menuhin?" She said breath- lessly. Mother made a sign to rise and the conversation ended. Dan said that he had to leave. Mother asked him if he would take Ami- na a mile down the road, to her violin lesson. He agreed. After he had driven her down the street and in front of the profes- sor's house, he stopped the car. Amina made no move to leave. She sat there stroking her vio- lin-case tenderly. "Amina," he said. "Have you ever thought of playing the si- tar?" "No," she said. She looked at him steadily. "You know, I thought you would be an old fud- dy-duddy. But you are so young! I like you." "I like you, too," he said re- turning her steady, serious look. "You represent something I can never attain," she said. To Encourage Student Writing Showme Supplement 37 "What's that?" he asked. "The West". "Why do you want to attain the West?" he asked. "The West is something magi- cal to me!" she said. "It is sort of filled with a rosy glow. It means Big Ben. The Thames Trafalgar Square. Things I have read about but have never really seen. I wish I could go there again." "Again?" "Oh, yes! I went there as a child with my parents. But I don't remember a thing." "You realize, don't you, that I do not come from England. I come from America." "Oh yes. Are the skyscrapers really a mile high in New York?" "You're so full of questions!" he laughed. "Why don't you come to my clinic some day and I will show you a magazine put out by the National Geographic Socie- ty." "I will!" she said. "Thank you for the ride!" And with that she was gone. Winter came and went and Amina did not see him again. Fin- ally summer arrived and the Lall family left for the hills for the duration of the school holidays. They were surprised to discover that Dan Palmer had his summer cottage directly across the river from them. He was to be there for two weeks of much needed rest. The days slipped by. Dan got into the habit of coming over to the Lall summer cottage in the evenings, sitting on the front steps talking with the children. Sometimes, but not often, Ami- na and Dan sat alone on the steps. Amina did not quite know when she began to hope that this would happen more often. But she became aware of the feeling. Several days later the Lall family was sitting at the lunch table. Everyone was eating man- gos. Ravi had so soiled his shirt with the yellow juice that his mother had taken off his clothes and commanded him to eat his mango in the bathroom. He stood in the bathroom sniffling. A new mango was cut. "Cheeks for me! Cheeks for me!" Usha cried. "Usha, will you remove your filthy hands from my dress?" Amina said with exaggerated po- liteness. "Don't mind," Usha said. Presently Ayah brought in the mail. "A letter from Daddy at last," mother said. "He is in London now." There was silence as mother read the letter. "Oh, Amina, my poor child. Father says you've got to go to a convent!" mother said. "What!" exclaimed Amina hor- rified. Then she rose, a mango still in her hand. "Mother," she said with a voice of steel. "I'm not going to a con- vent." Dramatically she dropped the mango from her hand. "Oh, yes you are," mother said. "If Dad says so, you've got to go. Do you remember the grades you made last term? All you think of is violin lessons!" And Amina left the room in a burst of tears. Amina locked herself up in her room till nightfall; then she crept out while the others were having supper. She walked down the steps sniffing the orange blos- soms across the river. A big moon was out, covering the body of water with a sheath of light. She stood a moment on the banks and then slipped in. It was a hot night and the river felt cool and her body shivvered a little with excitement. She swam across. Dan's lights were on and she walked to his house. "Who's there?" he asked in answer to her knock. "Oh, it's you. Come in." She slipped into the room, her dress still drip- ping. "Christopher Columbus!" he said catching a glimpse of her. "Why didn't you come by the bridge?" "It's a mile away and I was afraid of the jackals," she said. "And besides I had to see you right away . . . I've run away from home." "I see," he said calmly. "And why?" She turned around speaking with her back to him. "Mother wants me to go to a convent," she said. "Of course you know the nuns can't teach violin." "Oh yes," he said. "The all- important violin lessons. Where are you going to run away too?" "To you," she said. "I - I . . " "You don't have to tell me, Amina. I know how you feel," he said. She gaped at him. He was al- most laughing at her. She be- came conscious of her wet clothes and her hair hanging around her in wet little driplets. He turned curtly around, rum- maged in his drawers and took out a sari. He tossed it to her. "Put it on," he said. "The bath- room is in there." "It's a sari," she said a little foolishly. "Put it on," he commanded. She went into the bathroom dazed. She came out wearing the red sari. It was clumsily worn. The expression on Dan's face changed. He gave her a softer look. Then he spoke. "Look here, Amina. Sometimes everything appears more terrible than it really is. The violin is not that important. In fact I nev- er did approve of your taking lessons. Why don't you learn to play the sitar? What more haunt- ing music does an instrument produce? And yet the sitar is a part of India which is a part of you." He spoke softly and his eyes had an odd glint. He took her to the mirror and held her in front of it a little sharply. "You are wearing the sari," he said. "Look at yourself now." He lifted the gold-embroidered veil and covered her head. "It is beautiful," she breathed. After a long moment she turn- ed around and looked at him. "May I have the sari?" she ask- ed. "Yes," he said. "You may have it." The End the novus shop To the guys I says (they pro- nounce it Nowell) did you ever see this bug's cartoon's? They says whose, and I tells them DAVE FREEMAN. He even ma- jors in art. The worst part is that he likes jazz and thinks "rock 'n roll cans it." Now I ask youse, what's the diff? And he says Bishop Sheen says that Hemingway writes too simply which Dave is trying to prove. This all doesn't mean that be- cause he can't stand tail fins on anything, including planes, ele- phants, and interplanetary space beer glasses, that he likes the Army. Ha! You're right. He's going to trade the Army in on his life insurance and pay some- one to sit in on his Saturday classes. Poisonally, I think he'd do better starting football cards and making a fast buck to pay off this English teach' who's handing him poor grades and also pay off this babe he wants a date with who keeps going home. So what's the pitch, moll? He's on SHOWME for cryin' out loud. There's nervous goose MUR- LIN GENE SMITH who's rath- skeller poop bites back at the rats. They call it "Shooting Gal- lery" here at the office, but the word has it that the Russians wrote it up first. That's why Murlin is digesting Russian and Russian History to see why the rushing Russians rushed in there first. And looking at him, you wouldn't suspect that he's got two kids and a wife and a $4,000 Merc all on the G.I. Bill (pub. law 550, sec. II for speci- alized secret agents whose wives are on University payrolls), or that he has the distinction of having a complete column cen- sored (this issue). Mr. Goose and Squaw You'd think he hates every- thing, but that nervous foot of his doesn't denote impatience. Now what do you think it de- notes? You're right! He's a news editorial major, can't quite get the gist of short stories and will be graduated in June. Big wide world watch out! They telled me (Nowell) that this here guy GERALD SHNAY is a rough bugger to scribble up. Anyway, after gathering all the garbage picking rumors I could find, the report on our boy Shnay goes like this: He don't like sanctimonious women or women who don't drink and talk too much, hill- billy music, rock 'n roll, Repub- licans, the South and southern- ers, prudes and censors, emotion- al women, and virtuous women who brag about it. But after reading his "Balladeer's Bar- stool," I find he likes Bughouse Square in Chicago, pizza, Sand- burg, folk and heavy symphonic records (though he's tone deaf), and sports reporting for Ma (CENSORED) er. The best copy he's turned in this year is his third draft eva- sion notice (after all, youse grav- el agitators, he's not in "Who's Who" so whaddaya want him for?) Anyway, he's gone to five colleges, been "unappreciated" at two, and they release him this June from the M.U. pen. So that's the gist of things. Little boy: Ma, I just cut off my leg in the thresher. Ma: Stay outside till it stops bleeding. I just mopped the floor. Christian girl: Quite a few of our graduates are working girls." Stephens girl: Quite a few of ours are working men. contributors' page the Shack Camel