Showme December, 1957 Showme December, 1957 2008 1957/12 image/jpeg Publications & Alumni Communications 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 show195712

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

All blank pages have been eliminated.
Showme Dec. 30 cents STABLES DICK BARNETT Pucketts SHOWME Well Worth the Effort Outside Loads of Babies Too Dear Showme Staff, I thought you might be inter- ested in seeing what Showme staffers look like eight years later. (Notice we can afford cock- tails now instead of beer.) Left, from the top of the steps (across and down): BOB ABBETT - Showme illu- strator '47-'48 . . . now illustrating covers for American Weekly, Fawcett Pocket Books, married to lovely wife with wonderful voice and mother of small son and baby daughter. lives in Wilton, Conn. DIANA PATTISON BARNARD -Showme feature editor '48-'49 . now married to Charlie Barn- ard and mother of Jennifer, Re- becca and Charles Nelson Barn- ard, IV. The Barnards live in Noroton, Conn., part of Darien, Conn. CHARLES NELSON BARN- ARD, III-Showme story editor and contributor for years, editor- in-chief of Showme '48-'49 . . . now Managing Editor of True Magazine. BILL GABRIEL - Showme car- toonist, ad man and editor in '49- '50 . . now heads Gabriel Adv. Agency, lives in Bay Village, Ohio, and married to Jan. The Gabriels have two young daugh- ters. (No, he doesn't know if Sam Shepard did it.) DON GARBER - Showme ad staff, '48-'49 . married to good- looking blonde, with an ad agency in Cleveland. 2 HERB GREEN - Showme car- toonist and editor in '50-'51 . . . now free-lancing cartoons to Sat- urday Evening Post and other similar magazines, was in the lay- out department of Time until he resigned recently to devote more time to cartoons. He and wife Joy live in Greenwich, Conn. PHIL SPARANO JUREY- Showme business manager from about '47-'49 . . . now a reporter on leave of absence from Youngs- town Vindicator. Her husband, Bill, also with Vindicator, is on a Ford Foundation scholarship at Harvard, now. JOY KUYPER GREEN-Show- me staffer contributing poetry and on ad staff in '48-'50 . . . now married to Herb and in charge of several trade magazines published by Cluworth Press, Greenwich, Conn. Bottom steps . . . JEAN AND MORT WALKER-former- ly Jean Suffill, contributor and ad salesman on Showme, ad man- ager in '48-'49 . . . mother of four children: Greg, almost 8, Brian, 5, Polly, 4 and Morgan, 5 months. Obviously never did get to work, but Showme training has come in handy on housewife fund-raising projects . . . edited magazine a year ago that earned and donated $3,000 to worthy causes. MORT, we think you probably know about . now writing and draw- ing "Beetle Bailey," daily and Sunday King Features comic, writing "Hi and Lois" daily and Sunday (that's an awful lot of ideas right there) currently work- ing on a Beetle book to be pub- lished in the spring . . . that's spare time after the strips and many, many free drawings for everything from the Cub Scouts to Eisenhower's People to People Committee. This picture was taken at our home at a small M.U. reunion Oct. 19, when Gabe and Barber were in New York. Tom Paro, '48, with CBS, took the snapshot. It was a good party. Best to all or you for now and the future, Sincerely, Jean Walker Thanks for sending the Showme . . we enjoy seeing it. * * * Dear Upperclass, I'm flabbergasted! Do you mean to say that that's in store for us Showme-er's . . . babies . . . and things? Move over and we'll be right up and we don't mean for beer! Tomas (Thanks loads for the snap and info. Our headaches don't feel so bad now.) Well, Whaddya Know . . . A Grass Roots Mag Makes NA- TION's THIRD Best. Mary Paxton Keeley 1111 Porter Street Columbia, Missouri Well, it's the cutest SHOWME for these many years. Seems to have wit and diverting art, and your ads are entertaining. Of course your cover is your show piece. The centerspread has wit without resorting to nudes, and such nudes (looked more like possums than people). The only danger is that one of the legislature may glance at it and start an investi- gation, as they did when the SHOWME had a cover with Stalin coming down the chimney of Jesse Hall (dressed as Santa Claus, [Stalin, not the chimney]). They said that was sure proof that the campus swarmed with communists. Lest I appear as a pollyanna, I will add one sour note (two, I guess). You really need a new masthead as that is not up to your current art. Some of your photog- raphy is very good, but on pages 24 and 25, you play down the body beautiful and make the girl look as if she is carved out of soap; then on 25 putting her on a light background. The ones on 12 are lousy, especially of Teter, when they would have been good if the photographer had not shot her with the flash head on, thus flat- tening her into two dimensions. MPK Dear MPK, I must admit that your pat on the back blew up that balloon I had for my ego. And that little birdie you have flying around telling you those revealing critic- isms is really welcome. As a mat- ter of fact (and I don't readily admit this), he's quite right. Thanks and we'll keep a sharp eye on our gummy little paws when the next paste-up comes around. Ed. Dear Editor After transferring from Step- hens last year and reading other university magazines, I find that the SHOWME is pretty hard to beat. And, I would like to have the remaining issues of your mag- azine . . . Better late than never, you know' Enclosed is $2.35, which I hope is the right amount for the re- maining 6 issues plus 55c mailing charges. If this is not correct, just let me know. I'll be looking forward to the good work from the SHOWME. Thank you much-o. Lamoine Brittan 1709 W. 3rd Oklahoma State University Stillwater, Okla. Dear Lamoine, We love you . . . love you . you . . . send more and more and we love you . . . love you . . . you sent the right amount, but don't stop . . . dankenshein, gras- sis, dijobo, thanks . you're a pal. Love to the whole state of Oklahoma and Stephens, the Editor The Novus Shop Sudden Service Editor's Ego A breeze is blowing through the tinsel of the Xmas tree and Swami must wave goodbye to this year, and to the homeward bound stu- dents. Last month was another unex- pected sellout. I'll be scratching my balding scalp trying to figure out why. Showme must have something somebody wants to read. Well, this month it can't sell out, by ding! Yes, that November was a month to remember, mid-terms, and a Swami brawl. It was a brawl like you've never seen be- fore. There were people attend- ing, and refreshments, and music, and a little old veteran caretaker smiling and remembering and en- joying. A fire burned in the fire- place. Big male voices boomed and feminine twitters responded. It was a rewarding brawl. Even some of the elite from that other publication attended on invitation. Swami is kind, the benevolent type of hypocrite who would give his soul away if he had one. You see, he lost it . . . , but that's an- other story. Twinkles sparkle from Swami's eyes when he sees the yule sea- son come. The students will en- joy it, he thinks. And by ding, they usually do! The stag parties, the couples' solitude, the crashed parties, the couples' home party, plans to celebrations and a separ- ated couple smiling half heartedly, distance, days that seem like years and days that seem like seconds. It's Christmas and a New Year coming. Listen and you can hear Swami's glass ting as he moment- arily looks misty-eyed at some distant memory he delights in remembering, but misses. From the staff and Swami, a joyous Christmas and a shebang of a New Year. Raise cain, but come back. Swami might try and make it back too from his East Coast hideaway. TOMAS SNORTS What's wrong with your finger? Oh, I was downtown getting some cigarettes yesterday and some clumsy damn fool stepped on my hand. * * * A drunk laying on the floor of a bar began to show signs of life, so one of the customers smeared some limburger cheese on his up- per lip. The drunk arose slowly and walked out the door. In a few minutes he came back in. Then he went out again, only to return in a few minutes. Shaking his head in disgust, he said, "It's no use, the whole world stinks!" Frosty's ROMANO'S WRIGHT'S RADIO & T.V. REPAIR A South Missouri Soul Saver was lambasting a student con- gregation on the subject of sin. He grew more and more eloquent and finally he shouted to the audience which was predominantly co-eds. "Is there a virgin in the congrega- tion? If there is let her stand up and face the Savior." He paused but no one stood up. He was about to resume when a young mother in the rear of the church stood up with a young baby in her arms. "Excuse me, young lady, did you understand the question? I asked, was there a virgin in the congregation. "Yes sir," said the mother, "but you didn't expect a three-week- old baby girl to stand up by her- self, did you?" Most men can read a woman like a book, but they still prefer the braille system . * * * During the Holidays two Miz- zou students from the same town met back in the old burg. "Say," asked the first, "Aren't you work- ing your way through school?" "Yes," replied the other. I'm on the Maneater staff, but please don't tell my mother. She thinks I'm bootlegging. . ". and a space modulator and a astro-cosmic tracer and an interplanetary hydrogenator. . ." SHOWME has a brawl? Nov. 23, 1957 7:30 P.M.---?? Legion Cabin photos by Gordon "Blue" Ervin, joke editor Art Terry "I swear, I've been here all night." photogs Duke Wade and Charlotte Peaslee "LIGHT? ?" Dick Noel, editorial assistant . . and somebody's stray and centerpiece on floor Tom Watson, Cartoonist EDITOR and woman behind the scenes. (R) Margi Foster, tech. editor (L) Pat Tanner, Subscription Editor "One, two, three . . you and me . . Kulum . . writer "I say, you don't say?" "So he don't dance . whad I tell ya." Someone's Tom Watson "Bottoms up!" "It's over there, man." "And I'm empty too." VISITOR . . ."Keg? I ain't seen no keg." STAFF EDITOR Noel Tomas ASSOCIATE EDITOR Barney Kincade BUSINESS MANAGER Brack Hinchey, Jr. EDITORIAL ASSISTANT Dick Noel TECHNICAL EDITOR Margi Foster PUBLICITY Penny Fleetwood FEATURE EDITOR Matt Flynn ADVERTISING Bob Weinbach CIRCULATION Tom Eblen December's Missouri Showme FEATURES Letters ----.-. .---------------------------2, 3 Editor's Ego .------- . --.----.----.---.------------ 4 Around the Columns-Dick Noel - ---------9, 10, 11 Girl-of-the-Month-Marlene Elbreder --.---.------- 12, 13 What Is A Susie?-Margi Foster _----------14, 15 Santa's Quickie Quiz __---------------- 16,. 17 How To Write A Term Paper-dan hays _------ 18 Summer School - -----------------_ 19 Xmas Cards ---------------- 24, 25, 30 Xmas Shopping List ---------- 32, 33 Filches .-------------------------36, 37 Jeanne Wilson, AChiO _------38, 39 (pin-up) back cover Santa-Zan -- (nothing more 'til next year) PHOTOGRAPHY Barry Hyken, Art Terry, Bill Trogdon and Duke Wade OFFICE MANAGER Alice Roberts ART EDITOR Dave Freeman JOKES Gordon "Blue" Ervin IEXCHAN ES Kathy Hinckley SUBSCRIPTIONS Pat Tanner VOLUME 34 DEC., 1957 No. 4 Chaucer and SHOWME have dirty stories Bawdy and lewd from the start But ours, people said was pornographic And Chaucer's was classical art. On the cover, the Xmas spirit shines upon the New Year com- ing: "Whadda ya say, gang? Let's talk to da Santa Cwaus," says one of the up and coming generation at Santa's chair. SHOWME is published nine times, September through May, during the colleges year by the Students of the Uni- versity 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 Representative: W. B. Bradbury Co., 122 E. 42nd St., New York City. Printer: Kelly Press, Inc., Columbia, Mo. Price: 30c a single copy; subscriptions by mail $3.25. Office hours: 3:00 to 4:00 p.m., Tues- day through Thursday, 302 Read Hall. We three kings of Orient are, Trying to follow the Xmas star. We come bearing gifts from lands afar, But dam, are forgot the portable bar. Around The Columns Hot diggy dogs it's December and soon we will all be paroled soon and also it will be Christmas soon and everybody and their uncle's dog will get potted and come bearing gifts of Murr and Frankstien and used Elvist Prest- ly pencil sharpeners and fall down in the great snowy wastes and die an extremely slow death of food poisoning and advanced Mongo- lian Crud and complications of the gall bladder and . . . Christmast comes but oncet a year so gird your loins (ahhhhhggggggh . . .) and be a Readdy Freddy and fill someones stockings, with hydro- chloric acid (while they are still in the stockings, naturalment) and tell all the little boys and girls that Sandy Claws is dead and watch the Expressions on their faces and it is almost as good as the bowling machine for getting your jollies and then later pur- chase an extremely large bottle of Scotch and go park in some quiet spot with some ice and get blind and think sad melancholy thoughts and bright c h e e r f y thoughts and inquisitive philo- sophical thoughts and figger out everyone's troubles but your own and then find some old man and get him to sing I'm dreaming of a white horse Christmas and then sell your sole to the devil. The price is twenty cents a pound for soles and hogs are up two and steady. Steady as she goes cried the second mate as he gently low- ered the remains of the faithful Whymerannernererer dog named Rover over the side amidst a great bursting of bombs in mid air, righto, said Francis Scott as he lurched up from his squatting position on the after deck and sharpened his index finger on his genuine James Bowie knife (he used blood for ink. His blood.) AHORSE AHORSE! My knee- cap for AHORSE! . . . and Christ- mast comes but twice a year (the other time is August 7th, the an- niversary of the day Louis Glove- compartment, a noted archeolog- ist, discovered the bones of his late grandmother under his bed and died of thrombosis coronary while reciting the second chorus of I'll be glad when you're dead you rascal you) so make the most of it. Make something, dam it, we got a long weekend coming and you don't want to be without your share. Of spirit. And Spirits. Here are the columns mr. edi- tor. the rest of it is ridiculous too but makes more sense. Or it would if the linotype operator wasn't loaded. So cheers. * * * I don't know whether you've noticed it or not, but every once in a while the guy on the radio says it is so and so o'clock Naval Observatory Time. Now, I ask you, what in hell does the navy know about what time it is? I just imagine the Coast Guard knows as much as they do. Or the Air Force. Or the Army. Or the Merchant Marine. But no, we got to rely on the Navy. Garbage. Things have got into a fine state, is all I got to say, is when a bunch of guys on boats got the right to tell us what time it is. Hell, they don't know. They just guessing. I revolt. I hereby and heretofore declare it to be right this instant Two-thirty o'clock faranheit in the morning, and dare 'em to show themselves. Banzia. * * * An interesting sidelight to the recent furor kicked up when The Russians sent a dog into space was the great number of protests filed by various persons and or- ganizations stating that it was inhuman and cruel to put a dog to such use. Most of these came from dog and animal lovers; The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, The Na- tional Canine Defense League, The League Against Cruel Sports (this is a sport?), all voiced offi- cial protests. Everyone thought it was just terrible that those nasty old Russians would perpetrate such a barbaric ordeal on a de- fenseless little dog. However, the most thought-pro- voking statement came from a Vietnamese farmer who com- planned: "I don't understand. Dogs are supposed to be eaten, not carted around through space." * * * For anyone interested, (possi- bly in order to migrate to the Great Northern Ice Floe for the season) Elvis Presley, the Silver Voice of the Expensive Beer Joint, is releasing a special album of Christmas . . . ah . . . songs, 9 which by now are probably al- ready confusing small children and convulsing large ones. Mr. Presley is accompanied by guitar and organ-the selections includ- ing Silent Night and Santa, Bring My Baby Back to Me. He is evi- dently not going to attack Oh, Little Town of Bethleham, which is no doubt a wise move, but is very likely missing a good bet in Jingle Bells. With small cow-bells strung around his hips and legs he could provide his own accompani- ment (dispensing at least with the organ), and with a few rural types in the background going dooahhh dooahhh while shaking tamborines and snapping their fingers, he could turn this hack- neyed old favorite into a rousing success and a serious menace to the psychological well being of mankind, both of which apparent- ly being his main goals in life. But, Ce la vie, as the Saudi Arabians say. We'll just have to content ourselves with Silent Night. It will content me, anyway. Speaking of Gods and Heroes, a friend of mine went to the Up- town a few weeks ago to attend the Boone County Premier of The James Dean Story, but un- fortunately became ill and had to leave early, so I can't tell you any- thing about it. Unfortunately. * * * I don't have any idea how many of you people eat dry breakfast cereal in the morning, but some of those of you who do might have noticed an odd little habit that accompanies this ordeal. I've long been aware of this addiction in myself, and after questioning some of my aquaintances, I've come to the conclusion that per- haps it is a Bit of National Ameri- cana (choke). This habit I'm talking about is reading the written material on the front, back, bottom, top, and sides of cereal boxes. Aha! You are saying to yourself, hmmmmm, why land sakes, I've done that. Right? I don't know why it is exactly, but in my case the ex- planation seems to lie in the fact that I never wake up completely before ten or eleven o'clock in the morning, and if I get up, say -at seven, while eating break- fast, someone placed a German 10 edition of the History of the Chinese Language in front of me, I would at least attempt to read it. I guess at that time in the morn- ing you are in what the psycholog- ists might call a state of . a con- dition of . . . a sort of tenor of . a category, mood, predicament, quandary, plight, guise, fashion, mode, tone, constitution, character of. ah. insensability, obtuse- ness, paralysis, anesthesia, hypno- sis, stupor, refrigeration, coma and sleep. Mainly sleep. That's what the psychologists would call it. But sometimes it's kind of amusing. Just the other day I caught myself absorbing all the different recipes in which one can include large amounts of Post Sugar Crisps. But hell, if someone asked me ten minutes later what I'd been reading, I couldn't tell them. Why, you know, I bet I've read those recipes ten times (I am sort of high on Post Sugar Crisps) and each time thought I was getting some- thing new. But I got an idea which might prove to be a boon to man- kind. Or at least studentkind. Why not print text-books on the back of cereal boxes? Wahahhha! Hooooahggghhh! Two cheers for the team and a one gun salute for the coach! Sure, sure, I know you'd forget most of the material, but you could use giant sixed cereal boxes, and after you'd read the stuff 40 or 50 times, you'd be bound to remember something. Just think; plunging into a syn- opsis of Tudor and Stuart English history while chomping on Grape Nuts Flakes, or wading through complicated sections of Electronic Algebra while putting away some delicious Puffed Wheat (shot from guns), or, for the unfortu- nate, pouring over involved theories of Philosophy while mun- ching down a nutritious bowl of Forty-per-cent Bran Flak es! Magnificent! Then, when you've finished the cereal, you could take the boxes to class with you. Think of the pure economy of it! Why this beats the Missouri Store forty ways to Sunday. And of course, if you didn't have time for break- fast, you'd just pop an edition of Interpretive Shakespeare - Rice Crispies under your arm and be off for class. Hell, you could give up meals completely! With boxes of concentrated Fried Chicken- Advanced ROTC and Salad a la Bontony Lab and . Mustn't get carried away with ourselves, must we. Oh well. You watch yourself next time, any- how. Betcha a beer you read cereal boxes. In a few weeks it will be 1958, and I thought you all would like to know that in 1958, Friday the Thirteenth will fall in June. That's all, I mean there aren't any more Friday the Thirteenths. Just one. However, those interested will note that there will be three Thursday the Thirteenths, which is pretty close, after all, and there are also two Saturday the Thir- teenths, and this gives us a total of six thirteenths within a period of three days, which is no small shucks in anybody's book. And, quite incidentally, there are also two Tuesday and Sunday the Thirteenths, and one Monday and Wednesday the Thirteenths re- spectively. Just so you'll all know. By the way-and this is refer- ring back to the bit about the Russians and the dog lovers-if any of you feel sort of hacked at them too, leave us not judge too quickly. There have been many instances of their kindness and humanitarianism in the past, and no doubt will be more in the fu- ture. Here is an example, and you can look it up; Prince Piotr Lo- pukhin (1733-1827), Attorney General of Russia, was awarded his country's highest decoration ing in something. Quite to the con- trary. Right now, in this day and age, in 1958, there is no such thing as school spirit in any shape or form in any college in the country. It's become old fashioned. Out-dated. Backward. It just isn't done any more, no more than a really chic Madison Avenue career woman would wear last year's hat. I don't get around the country too much, but I've talked to guys from the east and guys from the west and "I suppose you are all wondering why I invited you here." for humanism in 1798-Because he prohibited the flogging of peo- ple over 70 years of age. How about that now? I mean that guy is all reet. * * * It is becoming pretty apparent that when anybody doesn't have anything to say around here they start bitching about school spirit. You know what I mean? Always yapping about how terrible things are getting when they can't raise two or three thousand screaming fanatics at ten o'clock (or some such ridiculous hour) on a Friday night in the rain in order to listen to a coach-who has been hired to coach - and a few players - who have been hired to play-lie about what they plan on doing to old Siwash State the next day. Or complaining that all the rest of the schools in the Big Eight or Big Ten or whatever it is have all got burning, feverish, de- mented, maniacal SPIRIT, while the University of Missouri has none. Well friends, it just ain't so. I realize we haven't any school spirit, but merely because of this we shouldn't assume we are lack- guys from around here in the mid- west, and whenever I would men- tion that the people here don't go too gung ho over football, these guys would like as not look at me as if I had suddenly sprouted a potato plant out of my left nos- tril. It's just not done. Oh, I realize there are a few spots around where school spirit-or something -remains. Like Notre Dame. Or Navy and Army. Or Oklahoma. Or parts of the south. But can you call this spirit? At most of these places I've mentioned, they pretty regularly have more than above average football teams, and if you want to call big crowds and lots of hollering spirit, go ahead, But if we had a team here at Mis- souri which had the past record, the prestige, and the reputation of Oklahoma or a Notre Dame or a Texas A & M, I'd sure as hell see every game, too, but I wouldn't do so because I was full of spirit; I'd do so because I'd be pretty certain of seeing some good foot- ball. The rah-rah boy has gone the way of the pocket-watch, the flap- per, and the ukelele. Now I don't contend that whatever has re- placed it - cynicism, intellectual apathy, mass-conformity-is good or bad, and I don't intend to ex- plain the transposition, all I am in- ferring is that a shift has taken place, and its high time we real- ized it. Amen. I'll climb down now. * * * I wonder if that guy out at the Parkade Drive-In theater is go- ing to hunt ducks all winter? Seems like by now he'd either be as fagged as a one-legged cat pull- ing a safe up steep stairs or have enough ducks to set up shop and take checks. He's been out a couple of months, now. Maybe he got ate by a bear. Or a duck. * * * Well, being it's the holiday sea- son and all, I'd like to reiterate something I've said here about this time of year for the past two Christmases Ergo: At the risk of being accused of secondary school senility I'd like to forget about my place in the cosmic scheme of things long enough to wish you all a very sentimental and happy Yuletide. It's a sentimental season and somehow the vain strivings for collegiate urbanity and worldli- ness, etcetera, don't seem to make as much sense as usual. So Hurrah for Christmas, Hur- rah for New Years, have lots of good parties, accumulate truck- loads of loot, and don't forget, beer and tomato juice can make New Years Day livable if all else fails. . . that ought to take care of it. Be cheerful, and I'll see you next time. REMEMBER, ED GEIN LIKES CHILDREN - RARE. DICK NOEL Marlene Elbreder, Swami Girl-of-the-Month. photos by DUKE WADE and ART TERRY AChiO's MARLENE ELBRED- ER wishes all Swami readers a merry merry Christmas and felici- ty throughout the New Year. Marlene hails from old St. Lou and is in her sophomore year at the University. "Ah, what would the world be without blondes?" . Swami '57-'58 Hathman House What Is A Susie? There are girls who climb upon the roof of their redormatory at 40 above to watch for Sputnik; there are girls who wear cash- mere skirts to watch a Sunday afternoon spectators - sit - in - the- grass scrimage; there are girls who dangle undies out windows to entice fellows having a pep rally: These girls are called Stephens Susies. A Susie can say the brightest thing in the world and sound dumb; she can be thinking the most brilliant thoughts in exist- ence and look simple; and a Susie can resemble any other girl in the crowd . . . but you can tell she's a Susie. She enjoys it terribly when a boy stops treating her like a prettylittlething and talks Seri- ously with her. She talks very Seriously too, reciting things from textbooks, roommate or whatever somebody else has said, changing the context only by prefacing the opinions with, "I think." Most Susies are charming, pois- ed, artificial and well groomed. It isn't the football game but rather is - the - skirt - getting - wrinkled; it isn't the kiss but rather what's- happening-to-the-lip-job; and it isn't the conversation but rather, I-must - be- careful- and - make - an- Impression. A Susie dresses well; she also dresses Alike. And if all the Susies can't walk into Barnett's wearing a raccoon coat it isn't be- cause their identical little hearts wouldn't give a month's supply of purple eye shadow to be the girl that did and got all the attention. A Susie can't understand how people can look at her and recog- nize at a glance that she is one. But nevertheless, this gives her a valuable tool for focusing the con- versation on herself for the first 15 minutes or so after you're introduced with, "But how could you tell . ? A Susie can adopt an accent quicker than a buddy can turn into a birddog. South St. Louis is 14 environment enough for affecting a dripping drawl and a weekend at Yale clips her sentences like barber shears giving a Mohican haircut. She reaches the pinnacle of euphoria when she can sneak a cigarette in her room, stand up a date, out-charm another Susie or go someplace off limits. Susies are the most mercenary, fickle, childish, imitative, coy, cult of bleached, tinted and dyed females in Columbia . . . but the boys date them because there's nothing like a dumb, giggling, male-starved Susie to make a Uni- versity boy feel big, rumbling and hairy. Beneath her polished - mirror exterior there is a scared little girl who is awfully afraid she is going to stop acting like her innocuous dormmates and be herself. And whatever they may be, it is infi- nitely better than the inname, stereotyped susierole she's play- ing now. There will always be Susies. THE END The skin you love to touch is usually covered up. GLEIM'S TRADING POST Life Savers SUSIE STEPHENS "I've got a date tonight, dahling. Would you like to borrow my ring?" SANTA'S Quickie Quiz for Kids Twelve and Under A. Santa arrives at workshop B. Myron Schultz and his two stepsons forming a trio to sing dirty songs at Lincoln's inauguration. C. Reindeers are out of season. A. Funny Santa suit fails to be a good enough prop. B. Old conveyor with a belt in the back. C. Santa and elf look over shop that produces Christmas toys. A. Santa tells fish story of great white whale. B. Ants never sleep. C. "The quality of mercy is not strange, it droppeth as the gen- tle rain . . ." A. Santa talks to his helper who explains to Santa that the help shortage has caused the holdup in production. B. Ed Gein, of Plainsfield, N. J., talks to Santa Baby about opening a butcher shop. C. Kiss Me Kate 16 A score of seventy or better means that you should marry the boy you are now dating. Eighty means you should drop school and fly south. Ninty means you are the "bee's knees". A perfect score means your money will be refunded by man- eater. A. "I climbed it because it was there." B. Scenic view of huge crowd viewing the MU-Oklahoma game. C. James Dean plays himself in "The James Dean Story." A. Open Rush. B. Santa talks to helpers about delivering the toys Xmas Eve. C. Only existing photo of the sinking of the Titanic. SHEAR'S DEPARTMENT STORE How To Write A Term Paper Some day one of your professors will say to your class, "Everyone in here has to write a term paper." Don't get shook. Others have survived. Pick yourself off the floor and face the problem square- ly. A term paper isn't really so bad; it's just the connotations-term paper, life term, solitary confine- ment. Really no sweat, just 10 or 12 thousand documented words, laboriously ground out with blood and tears and . Bribe your professor. It might even work. He's on starvation wages as it is. Send him a Boone County Ham, or a dozen five pound steaks. Send him Sophia Loren. On second thought, keep Sophia Loren and eat the steaks. Bribery might not work. After deciding you're stuck with the project, the first step is to choose a subject. This can be quite difficult and it requires a clear mind. You absolutely cannot have your mind cluttered with studies and scraps from lectures, so cut classes for a week or so. Divert yourself. Find a girl. Get plenty of sack time. If you're relaxed and life is running smoothly, you may have no trouble producing a smooth, relaxed subject. A few cautions on subjecting: don't wander too far from what the course is about. For instance, if the course is Australian Ethno- graphy 109 do not write about Stresses and Strains in Reinforced Concrete. If the course is Eco- nomics of West Africa 249, do not hand in a paper on Sexual Mores of the Eskimo Teenager. Ater you have chosen a subject it is time to start research. Even if you haven't chosen the subject, start research. It may come to you as you go along. In order to research you must go to the library. There are sev- eral libraries on campus but the most likely prospect is the Gen- eral Library. You must have seen the General Library. You can hardly miss it when coming out of the M-Bar. It is a large gray building, and you do not have to pay to get in. There are many rooms in the library. Look into them. Maybe you will see someone you know. Perhaps. Wave to your friends and shout greeting to them. You may have a hard time being heard above the rustle of the pages but don't let that stop you. After you have explored the basement (which has many love nests among the shelves of news- papers) and the first floor, climb the marble stairs to the second floor. There you will find a small room with many small filing cabi- nets. They look like recipe files. Open some of them. You will find many small cards. Riffle through the deck. After this, you might take a look into the stacks. "Stacks" is a term referring to books and has nothing to do with a similar term, "stacked". There you will find many books. My goodness, there must be millions of them. You will never read them all. Leave. Down the hall from the card room is the Reference Reading Room. There you will find many tables and many students hunched over books. This is bad for your posture. Leave your notebooks on a convenient table and look around the room. There are many volumes of magazines around the walls. Maybe you will find some good cartoons in old Saturday Evening Posts. It is about time for a cigarette. First you must go into the hall because they will make you go there anyway if you so much as strike a match. There grouped by the water fountain and sitting on the stairs you will find many other jolly students taking time out from their studies and talking of such scholarly subjects as basketball scores, new cars, and Friday night's party. Perhaps someone will suggest adjourning for a cup of coffee. If so, accept, for you will then be on your way to finishing your term paper. Gather your books and hop over to the Student Union Coffee Shop. There you will find, in addition to the jitterbugs, many sallow-faced, starving intellectuals brooding over their coffee cups. Sound a parley. Talk business. One of them will turn out a dandy term paper for nearly nothing. Don't sweat it. dan hays Summer School Yes, yes! That's her! I can tell I know her! The cigarette gives her away. Cute, my gosh yes! Journalism School in force. Determination, that's what it is. A doll, and you all know her. photos by TOMAS photo by Duke Wade Editor and body guard, Bob Hatch, enjoying the miscellanea. MEN! Summer School in Columbia has many more advantages than you know about! Go Hollywood, go swimming with lids . . and shirts and . A cooler, a blanket, goodies and a sun tan . oh, yes, and a girl . . oh, PARADISE! 19 MISSOURI UPTOWN HALL ". and now, friends, a program of beloved Christmas carols, sung by one of your all-time favorites. ." DON SMALL RECORD SHOP Swami's Snorts Two little rabbits were being chased by a pack of wolves. One little rabbit turned to the other and said, "How about you and me stopping a minute and out- numbering 'em." She was a Hula dancer. He was a guy from the fleet. He forgot the sugar he left at home When she shook her shredded wheat. Dreams of exciting war experi- ences troubled the sleep of the re- turned pilot. One night he leaped out of bed and yelled: "Men, we've got to bail out-we're out of gas." Then he pulled the rip cord-his pajamas fell down. Moe: How was your date last night? Joe: No good, She was just a stuffed shirt. Showme censors forbid it, Reformers have chided and hit it, Though each person on earth Arrived here by birth To testify somebody did it. What is the name of those tab- lets the ancient Gauls used to write on? Roommate: Gaul stones. Adam and Eve were the first bookkeepers-they invented the loose-leaf system. The doctor advised the young parents on the care of their first born: "Remember," he said, "boil everything before putting it in the baby's mouth." "Gosh Honey," the new father said, "no wonder you insisted on putting Junior on a bottle!" Did you hear about the college girls who were drinking beer on the beach and got sand in their Schlitz? WILSON'S WHOLESALE MEAT CO., Inc. Peacock Alley Showme Long Tall Xmas Cards Cut out Xmas cards to send to "Yes, Virginia, Santa wears a beard." "How brightly burns your Xmas tree!" your best friends. (Continued on page 30) nEUKomms Swami's Snorts First frat boy to second frat boy: "You drive. You're too drunk to sing." Spinsters are born, not made . Husband answering the phone said: "I don't know, call up the weather bureau," and hung up. "Who was that?" asked his wife. "Some fellow asking if the coast was clear." SUZIE: I'm not asking anything for myself, God, but please send my mother a son-in-law . Great - great - grandma Beebee studied the new-born baby. She cackled with obvious satisfaction: "If my memory doesn't fail me, it's a boy." 26 The student gets the magazine, The school gets the fame, The printer gets the money, The editor gets the blame. One of the more astute medics at the Clinic received a letter from a poor freshman in Johnston Hall. "Please send me the name of some good book on personal hygiene. I think I've got it." The rich and beautiful young widow had two cherished pets, a canary and a parrot. When she went out she always placed her loved ones in the bathroom to protect them from thieves, and upon returning home she would remove them before taking a shower. One day she forgot to take them out and proceeded with her nightly shower. Soon after she finished undressing the canary chirped: "Peek, peek." The parrot gleefully exclaimed, "You can 'peek' if you want but I'm going to take a damn good look. She wore a new evening dress but her heart wasn't in it. Ernie's Steak House Swami's Snorts There wasn't one to be found on the whole third floor. He tried the second. He tried the first. Angrily, he turned to his room and packed his bag. He stamped down the stairs and strode to the desk. "I'm leaving," he cried. "This place is uncanny." To err is human, but it feels divine. "Well my boy," said the new minister to the three year old, "what did Santa Claus bring you?" "Aw I got a little red chair," said the kid, "but it ain't much good. It's got a hole in the bottom of it." * * * "Ma, can I go out to play?" "What, with those holes in your pocket?" "No, with the kids across the street." Barth's Teacher (warning her students against catching colds): I had a little brother who was seven years old. He took his sled out into the cold one day, caught pneumonia and died. Awkward silence. Voice from the rear: Where's his sled now . To hell with expense. Give that canary another seed . . . A rattlesnake came home to his brood and said: "My children, gather around and see how a good Christian dies. What ails you, father? asked the small snakes. I have just bitten the editor of the Maneater, was the reply, ac- companied by the ominous death rattle. . . . "This bed," the antique con- fided, "belonged to my own great- great-grandmother. "Sure," the unbelieving pro- spect replied, "And I'll bet it's one of the beds George Washing- ton slept in." "Very likely, sir," said the deal- er, "but great-great-grandmother never mentioned it." 27 THE RED ROOM Gibson's "Daddy's only joking! Of course we're going to have a Christmas tree." Swami's Snorts Then there was the old philo- sopher who said: "All men are born free, but only athletes go through college that way . A Sig Nu was over visiting one of the Sigmas. In fact he had one cornered on the sofa. "Kiss me darling," He said. "There's a house fine of $10 on the fellow who kisses a girl in this house," said she. "I'll gladly pay the fine on one condition," he told her. "What is that?" "That you turn out the lights and take as long as I want to and kiss as many times as I wish." Three quarters of an hour later she said to him: "Your kissing beautifully tonight, Johnny." "I'm just one of Johnny's brothers. Johnny's at the door taking tickets. . ." 28 Columbia Opticians J. Johnson Fruit & Produce Co. "I'm sorry Santa, but the boss says if the reindeers ain't showed by 6:30, you gotta give up the big table." "I'm all shook up." Italian Village SHOWME Xmas Cards (continued from page 25) A Very Merry Christmas? HI FI HOUSE A white polar bear sitting on a red block of ice said to a red polar bear sitting on a white block of ice "Radio". (This is one of those pointless jokes that somebody or other will always read Freudian sym- bolism into and laugh uproaring- ly at. You probably laughed or at least snickered yourself until you read this. Now, however, you are assuming a wise expres- sion and pretending that you knew all the time it was point- less while jotting it down to tell at a party sometime so that you can see who laughs at pointless jokes.) ** * The freshman's father paid his son a surprise visit. Arriving at 1 a.m., he banged on the fraterni- ty house door. A voice from the second floor yelled, "Whatdya want?" The father said, "Does Joe Jones live here?" The voice answered, "Yeah, bring him in." * * ANDY'S Corner UNIVERSITY BOOK STORE The Showme Christmas Gift Corner Stumped for Gift Suggestions? Something Different Try giving a huge foot. Limited supply so order now. Indicate number of toes. Socks extra. No. 2001 Show Your Concern Give a free heart check-up. The owner can have his graph framed and tinted in gay Christmas No. 2002 colors. Stranger Pets! Everyone likes the friendly pet. And now pet stores carry all kinds of pets. Harvey Schultz is very fond of his strange pet. But he found out too late that his strange pet was also fond of him. No. 2003 Something Deserved? Different friends deserve differ- ent gifts. Try this handsome, loose-knit cord for the people you know who deserve it. Cheap @ 13c a foot. No. 2004 Something for the Family These brothers are proud of their reconditioned Panzer tank. Ralph Brother (bottom left) can hardly wait to try the real steering wheel. Comes wrapped in Christmassy red tinfoil. No. 2005 A Spectacular Gift Wow! For this fantastic 128 Rock- et, write PDQ because the FBI is looking for it and may find us soon. Actual size. The man is a giant 53 feet tall. Large? You bet! No. 2007 For a Merry Christmas? Give something that can express the spirit of the season. Bottle can later be broken and used in fights. Also comes in beer, whiskey, brandy and hemlock. No. 2006 Something Functional? No home should be without one. They are in constant use all over the world. If you have one al- ready, get another one for the den or bedroom. Sturdy, built to last; an extension phone might make a fine extra gift. No. 2009 matt flynn 33 Something Useful? Give something that anyone needs and uses. Give money. Comes in lovely cedar green. No. 2008 But Mrs. Schultz, Bobby said he wanted to play snowman. The Keg Swami's Snorts After placing some flowers on a grave in a cemetery, a man noticed an old Chinese placing a bowl of rice on a nearby grave and cynically asked: What time do you expect your friend to come up and eat the rice? The Chinese replied with a smile: Same time your friend comes up to smell flowers. Sherlock: Ah, my dear Wat- son, I see that you've donned your long winter underwear. Watson: Amazing, how did you deduce that? Sherlock: Elementary, my dear Watson, you have forgotten your pants. "Stan! Stop! You're got the signs in the wrong windows!" Swami's Snorts Professor: That's five times this week you have come to class un- prepared. Have you anything to say for yourself? Student: Yes, sir, I'm sure glad it's Friday. Are you the young man who risked his life to save my son from drowning when he fell through the ice? Yes, ma'am. Well, where are his mittens? * * * An old grad saw a student with a bottle in his hand and his arm around a girl. "What a foolish waste of time," he said. "You can drink when you're old." Cannibal: "Junior don't you know it is rude to talk with some- one in your mouth. He kissed her on her rosy lips; How could he then but linger? But oh - when he caressed her hair A cootie bit his finger. Black Jack: Where are your parents? Joe: I have none. BJ: Where are your guardians? Joe: I have none. BJ: Then where is your sup- porter? Joe: Sir, you forget yourself. Teacher: Harold, do you wish to leave the room? Harold: I ain't hitchiking. (Showme '51 - REMEMBER?) "Mums for the mummy?" The Stein Club filched The C.C.N.Y. MERCURY "If you ask me, it's glandular." PELICAN CHAPARRAL Remember, on the last chorus its every man for himself." "Well, I'm certainly not going to ask him." "Well, no damn wonder I couldn't tuck in my shirt." "Says he doesn't want it; says he just came in look- ing for the men's room." 37 Merry And Happy Jeanne Wilson makes Swami's pin-up ideal. Xmas and New Year photos by BARRY HYKEN Jeanne Wilson lithely contorts her delightful attributes to tell you all what's on her mind. Jeanne is a AChiO pledge and a Kirkwood beauty in her freshman year. Contributor and More Contributors Once upon a time (two years ago) there was a lil' girl named Lizabeth Huff. She had straight black bangs (like Nancy-in-the- funnypapers) and she drank beer. Naturally, as soon as she hit campus, she brushed her bangs back, looked about and discovered SHOWME. Since then, Liz has been per- forming many necessary functions vital to the output of that literary misnomer in her capacity as Of- fice Roustabout: * She has sold SHOWME'S on Dr. Ellis' doorstep * When ECAT was editor she folded up his rollaway every afternoon * And she personally held the towel for Troelstrup at the SHOW- 40 ME swimming-bust. On your way up to the SHOWME office, stay well away from the bannister-Liz might be on her way down and she doesn't waste time. She's another obnoxious dweller in F. L. Mottland and them kind are to keep out of the way of. Right now she is in charge of sending back rejected manuscripts with encouraging remarks. Her remarks, it seems, have encour- aged one fourple-rejected writer to attempt to form a social group which will meet every other Thursday (so as not to conflict with the Fortnightly) afternoon. But don't delay the meeting 'till Liz gets there, Charlie. SNORTS Famous last words: "Hell, he won't ask us that." The demure young bride, her face a mask of winsome inno- cense, slowly walked down the aisle, clinging to the arm of her father. As they reached the plat- form before the altar, her daity foot brushed a potted flower, knocking it to the floor. She gaized at the dirt gravely, then raised her childlike eyes to the venerable minister and said, "That's a hell of a place to put a lily." * * * Late last September your Edi- tor and Associate Editor were sitting in the office counting last year's back-issue stacks when one of them remarked: "If we had one more artist to round out the staff, we'd be set for the rest of the year"; whereupon the sky darkened, thunder roared, light- ening flashed, the door squeaked and in staggered a Westerner with California dust on his brow, a John Wayne squint in his eyes, and a battered portfolio bearing the name BILL ZANDER in his knarled hand. The stranger brushed some Arizona sand from his vest and casually remarked: "I'm an artist to round out your staff. I think you are set now." Ten minutes later he found him- self drawing a centerspread. Bill is a second year man from Redlands, California. He froshed at Arizona where he broke into collegiate humor as a staffer with the Kitty Kat. After a year of this, he got the Journalism bug and: "Came to Mizzou because I heard about your parties and girls. Fortunately, I find you have a J-School too." Zan hangs his flannels at the DTD house and drinks his beer anywhere. Actually, he is only a social drinker (the more he drinks, the more sociable he gets.) If you are a blonde-type coed, be nice to him. He may ask you up to see his rejection slips. Salem Cigarettes