Outlook (February 12, 1958)
A Tale of Woe
Cutting across the mall between classes, trying to make it to class on time just to make an impression, I am accosted by a lost looking youth with a wistful look in his bloodshot eyes. He looks me over and decides that I am not dangerous, so he makes up his small mind to burden me with his tale of woe. After taking his dink off and twisting it in his sweaty little palms, gasping a few times, and wiping his nose on his sleeve, he timidly asks, “Cudja tell me where building ‘O’ is?”
I look at him cautiously, trying to size up the situation, when he attempts to help me out. “Y ‘see, I’m a greshman here this year, an’ I don’ know my way around’.” You can imagine my astonishment at this, as it is not until this instant that I recognize this boy as a freshman, he looks so much like anyone else that you would see walking around campus at nine in the morning.
Being of great native intelligence, this sturdy young fellow recognizes my dilemma and decides to clarify it for me a little more. “I’m from Baltimore,” he says, “and this place is pretty big, and …” I raise my hand reassuringly and let him know that I understand the problem and that I will be only too glad to help him out.
“Building ‘O’,” I say in a thoughtful manner, “let me see.” “Yeah,” he says. Seeing the prize I have here, and not missing the opportunity, I tell him that I will gladly assist him in his plight. “Son,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder, “you have come to the right man.” “Yeah,” he says. “Son,” I say, “you know where the Dining Hall is, right.” “Right,” he says. “Well, you walk around to the rear of the Dining Hall, and you will see the infirmary, and then you — you had better take this down, son, I don’t want you to get all balled up and have to go getting more instructions.” “All right,” he says, opening up his brand new notebook with the big “M” and picture of a Terrapin on it.
“Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Well, I ahve you as far as the infirmary, don’t I?” “Yeah,” he says. “Now then, we’re almost tehre, aren’t we? Once you have gotten to the infirmary, you walk down the driveway, and you will see a few buildings. One of them is named Wicomico, and the one on its right is called Carroll. To the right of Carroll Hall is a building that you can’t miss. That’s the one you want. It’s called Preinkert, get that P-R-E-I-N-K-E-R-T, Preinkert. That is boy, that the one you want.”
He slobbers his thanks all over me, and turns away just as the bells ring. I walk to my class, satisfied that I have done my good deed for the day. Being late, everyone turns and stares at me as I sneak in, but I am unmindful of this. I sit through this great indoctrination class, waiting with bated breath for the bell. Finally, I am allowed to leave, and I stroll across the mall whistling. I come upon a group of lassies who are giggling strange things, and listen in. “No!” says the short one. “Yes!” says the fat one. “Not the girl’s gym,” says the short one. “Yes,” says tyhe fat one, “like as if he owned the place. Little dink on his little pointed ead and all.”
I push through the little mob that has formed at the wall and wander to my psych class.
Outlook (January 14, 1958)
So, You’ve Gotta Gripe!
Well, we all came back with a bang. Not enough books in the library, not enough seats for the game, not enough time before finals. Really great to be some place where we can complain about things again, isn’t it? How long ago was it, a little over a week? You were rudely awakened at about 11:30 and asked what you wanted for breakfast, with the sly little remark that maybe what you really wanted was lunch, in which case you could go back to sleep for another half-hour.
Not too much that you could say about that—not aloud, anyway. And when you finally did come downstairs, the first thing that you heard was, “While you’re up….” A surly little grunt may have passed your lips at this point, but after all, you were home, you were having a vacation. Then after doing all the odd little things like putting up the drapes or vacuuming the rug or cleaning off the table or making your bed, or…. Well, anyway, when you had finished all of this and eaten, and gotten ready to go to the library to study,. as you were leaving the house, breathing a sigh of relief, you heard, “On your way back….” So after going about thirty miles out of your way on your “way back” and getting no work done, you finish supper and as you are leaving the room you get a phone call from one of the guys or one of the girls, and you say that you are going to study this evening, at which time a little voice from the table says, “But dear, you’ve studied all day, it isn’t good for you to stay home like this.”
And then as you leave the house, you say, “Mom, wake me up early tomorrow, about 7:30 or 8, I want to get some studying in.” So the next morning you are awakend by the sun whihc is flooding the bvedroom, and you glance at te clock and it says 11:30, and you run downstairs, and ask your mother what catastrophe happened that she didn’t wake you up, and you hear, “Well, dear, you got in late last night….” So you stamp back upstairs and get dressed, mumbling to yourself, and come back down to eat a sandwich and be off, and you are notified that “Lunch willb e done in a few minutes, but why don’t you run to the store and…”
So now it’s two o’clock and you are finally taking off. You start the car and the lady from down the street asks you where you are going, and could you please drop her off downtown as she is late, that is, if it isn’t out of your way.
By some miracle, it is January 5th, and you find yourself back at school. You renew old acquaintances and head for the Pizza Hut or the Deli or the Hot Shoppe, and you talk for hours. Then school starts, and you decide to look over the library. It is big, but where are all the books? You make out your exam schedule and find that there isn’t time for you to get all your work done, and you look forward to Saturday only to find out that there are only 5500 seats for the students. You’re in heaven; you can sit up nights thinking of the nastyt ways you can get back at the school, and look forward to semester break so you can get away from it all and go back home. Home. …
Outlook (December 10, 1957)
Specialize, Organize, Criticize!
Page two of today’s paper carries a comment by the Assistant Dean of Men. Mr. DeMarr decries the situation on campus not as apathy, but as a lack of organization. This may be true. Perhaps we are not organized. Viewing the situation as a whole, I believe the trouble is that we are not specializing. In this day and age this is an inexcusable fault. You can approach any student on campus and get his comments on a dozen or more things that he feels are deplorable. Think of what a blast he could make if he were to specialize on one thing.
Specialization is not the complete answer to this, which brings us back to Mr. DeMarr’s comments on organization. This is the answer. Specialize and arganize. Select the thing that you are most interested in complaining about, and then go out and find a few others who have complaints about the same subject. Go one step further; institute a system whereby committees or clubs could be organized which would concentrate on just one situation.
A typical list of clubs could include such ones as: the We Find Conditions In The Dining Hall Deplorable Because Club; or The Daydodger’s Discussion Group On Why We Think Parking Facilities Are Unfair To Us; or, on another tangent, the We Feel That Student Publications Are Miserable Because Committee. (This latter group could be subdivided into two segments, one on the Diamondback, and one on the Old Line, which would meet once a week on different nights, with a yearly seminar on the Terrapin, to be held the first night after its disbursement.)
The above are not all the possibilities, and you don’t even have to limit yourselves to the major interests on campus. After organized, this program could be expanded to include conditions encountered in only one college. Even more specialized than this, you could eventually segregate groups discussing conditions encountered only by Pre-Vets, Pre-Meds, Accountants, Engineers, etc.
I ask you, why should you be a poor old jack of all trades and master of none? Twenty opinions are better than one, and you could always get a report from the other groups that you might have a cursory interest in. You can rest assured that these people will be able to answer any question, and better define any ill-feeling that you might have as to any other facet of student life in a manner that you could be proud of.
When I think of this magnificent plan, which I am sure must have entered my mind through some divine guidance, I am overcome by emotion. Think of the new vistas that can be exploited on the collegiate horizons. What cannot this new method of critical analysis accomplish? Shame on you, Mr. Shulman. The answer lies not in the abusement of feminity, but here, under our fingertips, and it is not until now that we have become aware of it.
Criticism is the answer, but not disorganized criticism. Organized criticism, specialized criticism is what we need. Band together, bring some form to this formless mass. Be proud to say, I am a “Dining Hall” man, or I am an “Infirmary” man. I leave you now, in complete confidence that my plan will not fall into some musty corner to rot and fall apart. I shall sleep tonight in utter assurance that this is the answer, the key, the panacaea. This shall lead us from the brink of despair upon which we are now teetering, and shall carry us to the greatest heights attainable in the collegiate sphere.
Outlook (November 26, 1957)
Station Break
Perusing the events which took place last week which were reported by the Diamondback, I came across an article entitled: “University Denies WMUC Right to Air Games.” This article caught my attention and my curiosity. Since this hasn’t been done before, at least to my knowledge, I read the article with interest. I wanted to find out the reasons for such a move.
It was noted that the games will be broadcast by tape beginning one-half hour after the games started. The reason for this? Well, it appears that this is to serve the purpose of getting the students out for the games. A half hour delay is inconvenient, I must admit, but what is the sense in broadcasting them at all if the reason for this move is to get the students out in force to see them? Those who want to listen will still be allowed to do so, and I venture to say that the results will be the same whetehr or not the game is being broadcast at the time of the game or thirty minutes later. The logic of the move on these grounds seems spurious.
The article goes on to state further that two radio networks are attempting to find sponsors for these games, and that WMUC would be allowed to broadcast the games live if and when one or the other network gains sponsorship for them.
This then, brings us to the conclusion that there is more than student interest at stake here. In fact, you might even say that the student interest has been violated in the face of money matters.
WMUC, for those of you who are not already aware of the fact, is a campus station, and transmission off-campus is either non-existent or negligible. There just cannot be that much coverage from WMUC to scare a network station out of competition with them. Broadcasting of the games by WMUC cannot hurt the chances of the University receiving the money and prestige of network broadcasting because of this reason.
Where then, is the logic behind this decision? In the light of the arguments rendered is there sufficient reason for the denial issued? What do you think about this matter?
Outlook (November 19, 1957)
It Should Happen to You
I’m sittin’ in my room, indulgin’ in my favorite 3-D Batman comic, when someone sets at knockin’ at my door. I sez, “Come in.”
In walks this guy wearin’ a ugly sweater an’ baggy pants. I looks at him and sez, “Sorry, but this is a dry campus.” He sez, in a gutteral voice, “Whutcha readin’?” I ignores the question. “I was quite a Batman fan in my younger days, myself.” He sez. I peers at him sidewise, hopin’ he’ll take the hint I ain’t takin’ too kindly to bein’ compared to his younger days, but he’s picked up a fantasy mag from my stack and laid across my bed.
I ups and walks over to him. “Buddy,” I sez, “I don’t mean nothin’ personal, but roll up your sleeve, like.” He gives me that empty stare that fits in with his character, and sez, “Man, like I don’t know what you mean. I am walkin’ aroun’ campus lookin’ for milk to feed my cat, and sees this long line of milk cartons goin’ to waste, and sez, ‘Now, there’s a man after my own heart that would never let it be said that he denied a poor cat some milk.’ ”
I would never let this be said, as I figgers this will get rid of this cat and his cat. He brightens up, walks to the door, whistels, and next thing I know, this moutain lio comes muzzlin’ up to my leg like he wants a hunk. This guy tells it I am its kindly benefactor, and next thing I know, this guy has a five-gallon bown he is fillin’ up with all the milk that I copped from the dining hall, and a week’s supply of cereal.
While beasty is partakin’, this guy leads me outa the room, sayin’ the cat doesn’t cotton too highly to company durin’ meals. At this, I am of agreement that Is hould leave. Well, before long, I hear this tremendous yawn, and I panic.
I asks my friend if he will please claer his monster outa the room before it decides to take its nap. The cat does not take too kindly to this, and as he leaves, he gives me a look that sort of intimates that he no longer thinks of me as his kindly benefactor, and that I better stay out of dark alleys while he is around.
I goes in and locks the door. And if my teachers ask, I am havin’ Flu this week.
Outlook (November 12, 1957)
So You Answer the Questions
The question for today is, “Where is we?” As members of a university, we have, in some obscure manner, been chosen to lead different segments of our civilization in a very significant way in a very short time. By merely being allowed to attend college we have been adjudged the “cream of the crop.” This should mean something even if the amount of milk in the bottle is negligible.
In order to prepare ourselves for our future role in our society, we must develop a proper attitude. Apathy is not the answer, nor is wile. Especially if wile degenerates into guile. Guile, if you don’t already know, is known colloquially as bluff, and is exemplified in the common practice known as “snowing him.”
We are on the periphery of an elusive entity known as knowledge, and are expected to absorb some of it. This absorption is not an osmotic process, and this knowledge has been placed in our paths so that we will be able to get it, not get around it.
By this time, 90 per cent of the students who started reading this column have contemptuously gone on to other and greater enterprises. This would serve to make the purpose of this article almost non-existent, as those of you who are reading it are not in need of what I have to say. I shall continue though, with the optimistic assumption that a few others have continued to read along.
I agree that a college degree is a “prestige device.” It is nice to have one. But there are many ways in which to get one; not all of them are valid. One can bluff himself to a diploma, but this is of no benefit to himself or anyone else. In fact, if one has to do this in order to obtain his degree, and if he has no real interest in the courses that he is taking, (which we must assume, except for certain “required courses,” is true if he doesn’t enjoy them) then he has no business in going for that degree.
If any of you feel that what I am saying effects you, and you are interested in obtaining an honest diploma and in learning something that you might even enjoy doing in life, let me say that there are ways of finding out where you abiliites and interests actually lie.
First of all, there is a department on campus known as the Counseling Center which has been designed for the specific purpose that I have outlined above. This is located in building EE in the “gulch.” For those of tyou who feel it a stigma to go to psychologists in order to find out what you are best suited for, I would suggest that you have conferences with faculty members in the various fields in which you are interested. If there are some of you left who feel that this also is rather impractical, I would suggest that you take an interest in what you are now pursuing. You might even get to like that. Beyond this, I have no suggestion.
For those of you that take some of my suggestions seriously, the answer to that question, “Where is we?” might make itself clear. You might answer it by saying, “We is here.” Then you might even ask yourselves, “What is we going to do about it?” This answer I cannot predict.
Words of My Father 