Jambalaya [yearbook] 1971

              Digitized by the Internet Archive
in 2010 with funding from
Lyrasis IVIembers and Sloan Foundation
http://www.archive.org/details/jambalayayearboo76edit
AMBALAVTV
NIVERSITY
LOUISIANA
OOK 1
^1A
L^vil
t
The automobile license plates label the state as the
"sportsman's paradise," but common sense and or
a few months' observation would lead one to think
of Louisiana as a paradise for the sociologist or the
photographer. By living in New Orleans for any length
of time, one can easily detect the contrasts along the
major arteriel streets, absorb the facial expressions,
the structural facades, both wooden and crystaline,
that frame those same faces, and realize that the stra-tification
in the parish is nearly complete.
But where does that put Tulane University and its
students? Perhaps we too are part of the New Orleans
syndrone. On a day to day basis, it is fairly easy to
overlook the problems of this area by staying near the
uptown campus during the day, or by selecting Clai-borne
or St. Charles over Freret when using public
or private transportation to travel to the Vieux Carre
or the central business district. In our own way, we
have created our own form of paradise, our own little
J"' •-<f ***-
"
*•*
Utopia on our precious tract of land in the "university
section." What better place is there to forget about
national or global problems, or the slum conditions
that are just a few blocks away on Freret Street?
In our own sphere of influence, that is, in New Or-leans,
and at Tulane, each of us have to make a choice.
As individuals, or in groups, we can be content to
educate ourselves, or we can try to educate and in-teract
with the community and the University for the
betterment of both parties. Relaxing on the U.C. squad
may have its benefits, but there are better things to
be done.
As for the "sportsman's paradise," and the Utopian
life style—try Biloxi.
Matt Anderson
Editor.
Jambalaya 1971
\i\
^ J5 • < ^
P'^; ft
Hi-, '^'-'
U:
K
\ :
Uf/y
Bt.*^'*'^^::":''
rv ;
U
^'i*---.^-
iC*^^
• .-.• ¥-.^-??aiSiS>a'Ss.
m m-^
r*f^
fi^**'.
3^
iii^^ ^
.
^^..^
;rl
15^ -
S55 ;8'
ll«
iis -•;'>^'
v^ 5,
«, ^*
,:.- .Vi
8 / SOW THE SEED
10 / BUCKPASSING 101
14 /A COUPLING
16 / MAGAZINE STREET
24 / THE TALE OF NINE RATS
38 / A CRISIS'
40 / THE BIRTH OF A MUSHROOM
44 / FOR THE LOVE OF SCIENCE
48 / AN EDITORIAL
50 / WHO SHALL GOVERN, WHO SHALL RULE
56 / JAZZ: DISCOVERY AND DIFFUSION
64 / DORMS
72 / THE COLONEL
76 / C.A.C.T.U.S.
82 / STOPPING TO THINK ABOUT IT . . . AGAIN
88 / LOOKING BACK: J.Y.A.
94 / LAW AND THE PUBLIC
98 / ARCHITECTURE: EVOLUTION BEYOND ALL PRECEDENT
102 / FREE UNIVERSITY
104 / A SNACK BAR
106 / RUSH
110 / FRATERNITIES: HOW LONG WILL THEY BE ABLE TO STAY?
114 /IT'S ALL RIGHT
118 / FROM THE VILLAGE TO THE DALE
122 / THE TULANE ATHLETE. CIRCA 1971
126 / RELIGION AD HOC
128 / ODE TO A NEWCOMB GIRL
130 / THE NEWCOMB IMAGE
136 / HOMECOMING COURT 1971 BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
140 / SUNDAY AFTERNOON
148 / "POETS AND THEIR WORDS"
152 / OCTOBER 24
158 / DICK GREGORY
162 / THE U.C. BOARD
166 / MEDIA
180 / THE HOLLYWOOD FORMULA
182 / MONTACHINO AND SmiMER LYRIC
186 / CAMPUS NITE SEVENTi'-ONE
188 / KUYPERS AT 70
190 / A CAPPELLA CHOIR A C4PPELLA
192 / TULANE UNIVERSITV THEATRE
196 / OH WHAT A LO> ELY WAR!
200 / R.O.T.C.
204 / MESSAGE FROM SEOUL
PAGE 8 /
sow the seed
The growth of the consciousness within the university is like a tree. Tulane
has matured a great deal in the last tew years. Some of this growth has
been painful. Students and faculty felt the chill of a new season, and were
blown from the branches of the University. Some felt that the school had
lost its sap. and others viewed the tree as bare. A few leaves fell to the earth
to produce fodder for the winter season and to replenish the tree.
Underground, the students and the faculty organically broke down to feed
the tree, while other forces from without felt the best way to improve the
University would be to bulldoze it into shape. The science complex sprung
up after a tree had been bulldozed, so that ideas could blossom from the
building. That tree had flourished on campus due to the special soil and
climatic environment, and because a doctor had taken care to plant a
special seed. This seed was one of two that had been sent by a colleague
with the hope that the species, which was near extinction, would survive.
Only six seeds were known to exist, and two were sent to Tulane. One of the
seeds grew next to the old history department, but both gave way to a
scientific computer card.
That tree was one of the casualties on the great wheel of life. But its brother
grows tall between Richardson Memorial and Dinwiddle Hall. And in that
tree, about three quarters of the way up. one could see on the vernal
equinox, nestled among the branches, a basket of twigs.
And so it is in the arms of the University that we build our consciousness in
which we will nestle our off-spring until they are strong enough to fly away
on their own.
—r. Collins vallee
march 1971
/ PAGE 9
buck
passing
torn
Ireland
Whenever there is a spark of originality
Whenever there is a gleam of hope,
As long as there is life,
Wherever there is the spirit of living,
In whatever possible form,
It must be crushed by committees.
—Paul Schulman (A & S '69)
This University is dedicated to the proposition that all problems can be
"dealt with" by committee. Besides increasing the frustration of
people who try to do things on this campus, this type of committee
system has two other important drawbacks. An idea is frequently aged
and distorted beyond usefulness or recognition through the committee
process. A good idea, even if it were to come out of the committee
intact, is generally so old that it no longer carries the piquancy and
relevancy it once had.
Also, an idea, once approved by a committee, becomes an
institution—it can only be changed or modified by repeating the same
process of committee consideration. Minor repairs require just as
much effort as a total overhaul.
By mid-fall of 1969, there seemed to be no solution to the problem.
Then, during the T.L.F. uprising of the following spring, it became
painfully apparent to everyone that something had to be done to speed
up the decision-making process.
PAGE 10 /
N r^jx^<? '^ H
/ PAGE 11
PAGE 12 /
The University's Academic Council suggested
a conference of all segments of the University
Community to try to answer some of the critical
questions the University faced; and somehow,
the 1970 Summer Conference got off the
ground. For three days, students, faculty,
administrators, alumni, and others sat opposite
each other and "talked" (or shouted, or argued,
or accused, or denied).
The members of the Board of Administrators
claimed that they were only businessmen and,
consequently, amateurs at handling academic
affairs. They specialized in handling the
University's money and had hired the president
and all the other administrators to handle
academic affairs, they said. The administrators
feigned shock at the paralyzingly slow process
of change in the University and said they only
wanted to handle matters affecting the financial
situation of the University.
An idea began to take root: lower-level
administrators could make decisions and act on
them without having to endure the stifling
committee process. Students, faculty, and
administrators began changing the decision-making
process of the University so that the
buck would stop with them. New constitutions
and by-laws flourished. Changes began to
occur in less than a year, less than a semester,
sometimes even less than a month.
Administrators were beginning to have a
function besides trying to placate and further
delay students already infuriated by frustration.
And now that administrators could actually
DO things, another new idea began to take
shape: it actually does some good to talk to
people; something might actually get done even
if no demonstrations take place. Students,
faculty, and administrators began to talk to
each other and things started getting done.
An outgrowth of the same ideas that created
the Summer Conference also created the
weekly University Forums. Originally, the
Forums were designed to increase the amount
of contact between the president and the
student body. However, during the early
Forums, the president almost invariably
referred questions to one of the "lower-level"
administrators in the audience in whose special
province the question fell. The students soon
caught on. By second semester this year, the
Forums consisted largely of students grilling all
of the administrators, alerting each of them to
problems in his specific area.
Action-producing conversations are now
taking place on a "lower-level" and things are
getting done. The result? For the first time in
many years at Tulane, a president of the student
body has said that there is good communication
between the students and the administration.
/ PAGE 13
L*^.:i.2«
V
PAGE 16 ti
\'-.-;\--' - V-' V "^^I 1 '.'.'>;
'&. i
'< y '
'
"
'i'' ^ *' j^'
".' -':<'^"^^ i.ti
•4" ,i
j> ; '''V''i• -'
.••: .',;-- -^,-,
r.-va ^HjMri
'^.y^j
0(J11/T
nfiQu
PAGE 18 /
Old, blind, and lonely for those summers whose
slack now gathers as wrinkles in their skin, their
apathetic fingers throb numb with the idleness of
sixty false winters. The soft deadness in their eyes is
sometimes mistaken for that darkness which falls as
a shadow from the prophet's brow and they are
called Immortal.
But the dust of grave's first layer, the mark of
earth's own, clings snowlike to their old-rolled
trousers and time-whitened heads, and waits like
Fate upon their breasts making each breath more
like those drawn through the lips of the dead.
The children roll like quarters down the nickel-coloured
sidewalks. But here value lives not m
simile, but in the novelty of the old wood and iron-stoppered
bottles which the Immortals sell to buy
false teeth and coffin nails.
—Farrell Hockemeier
/ PAGE 19
I
PAGE 22 /
Dirty old storefronts.
So peacefully quiet inside.
A welcome rest
From the continuous traffic
and screaming children.
Dusty bottles and rotting furniture
Echo the age of the street.
Storekeepers' faces express
Their most frequent complaint:
"Business is slow."
It all seems so useless.
The irony, of course. Magazine Street
Is essential to New Orleans.
—Tom Lee
/ PACE 23
the rat of
the taleof
tales
PAGE 24 /
v*,*^
tales by
jim dalfares
illustrations by
rusty Josephs
In recent years. Tulane has been most adept at at-tracting
certain students who seenned to have formed
definite campus cliques. It is not our desire here to in-form
the world of the characters Tulane seems to be
currently plagued with: on the other hand, they cannot
simply be ignored. We imagine that the preemment
success Tulane has had in this regard is a simple case
of "build a better mousetrap and the world will beat a
path to your door."
And you might catch a few mice while you're at it. For
despite rumors about "rats deserting a sinking ship." it
is known that several species of rats are currently still
attending the University. No immediate cause for alarm.
but we think we should perhaps pause now and reflect
on who plagued the universities of Europe in 1349 with
their mysterious "black death". (Sounds like the title of
a Flash Gordon thriller, doesn't it?)
It is now. of course, de rigueur to attack such a clas-sification
of campus types. After all. isn't everyone now
doing his own thing, and doesn't "doing your own
thing " preclude doing it like everyone else? We think
not. though we admit we might well be forced to defend
our essay with all the fierceness and tenancity of a cor-nered
rat.
The world-renowned scholar Arthur Koestler. in his
book The Ghost in the Machine, attacks what he calls
the philosophy of "ratomorphism' . In previous times.
man committed the error of anthropomorphism—or at-tributing
to animals and objects human qualities. With
the present emphasis of psychology and behavioralism
however. Koestler feels that the opposite fallacy is
coming to the foreground—ratomorphism. or at-tributing
to humans only animal characteristics. Thus.
Koestler deplores the fact that Pavlov counted the
drops salivating from a dog's mouth, and from this, dis-tilled
a philosophy of mankind.
Certainly we would deny a desire to support a belief in
such a Kafkaesque metamorphosis. In a true sense
however, all Tulane students are caged rats in an ex-periment,
and it is not by any means unpredictable that
so many will turn out to be neurotic, to have behavior
pattern fixations. They have perhaps been constantly
conditioned to act so. having no more real freedom
than a citizen in 1984. And Winston Smith in that novel
perhaps realized, in his absolute horror of being placed
in a cage full of rats, that he was no more free than
they.
So. on we persevere in our attempt to depict several
easily recognized campus species, knowing all the
while how easily we might be proved guilty of not being
completely serious in our endeavor. At the same time,
we hope only that our voices are not as completely
quiet and meaningless "as wind in dry grass or rats'
feet over broken glass in our dry cellar' .
/ P.\GE 25
the dorm-ouse
When awake, usually between 6
p.m. and 6 a.m., the Dorm-ouse
feels safe within his womb, hiding
in his room, encased within his
tomb. College is to while away four
or five or six years learning how to
be a slob. Class is that rare ritual of
diversionary activity—finding
another place to rack out
occasionally. Registration is to
schedule your classes between one
and three in the afternoon, and to
see that you never have to walk up
a flight of stairs or cross Freret
Street. Luckily, Eddie's is just on
this side of your self-set territorial
limits.
In any case, you don't go outside at
all if the temperature is below 60°
or if it looks like rain. You just
remain inside your room—your
pride and joy, your warm mother,
your lover, your wife. Your new
lady friend lives in. She has ample
knobs and she's colored. Her name
is Zenith. When you're bored with
Zenith, you go and console your
friend General Electric, who really
likes to open up. The General is full
of the good things in life—like
food. Or 500 hits. And last, but not
least, is your bed, with whom you
share your most intimate moments.
She says you talk in your sleep but
only use four-letter words.
If you can manage to stay in bed all
day, you figure you've just about
broken even with life.
Life is also an all-night bridge
game.
You do emerge from your cocoon
to fly high every Friday and Sunday
night. No matter how bad, boring
or bloody it might be—come rain,
or sleet, or dark of night—you
cannot miss seeing a free flick. As
everyone knows, the show must go
on. At least until you light up.
You've been in the same room for
five years. Advisors come and
advisors go, but you live on.
Tacked to your door is a sign
stating, "I am Who Am." People
walk by silently and reverently. .
They respect you and occasionally
come to you for advice. Especially
at registration time. You know the
secret love life of every professor
on campus. You can get a
freshman's car registered, a library
fine erased. You know when the
next bust will be. The Greenie cops
call you by your first name, the
ladies at Bruff give you an extra
helping, and Herbie knows you well
enough to grimance as he walks
past you.
You are a lurker. If you are up
during the day, there is nothing
better to do than to go over to the
U.C. and lurk for five or six hours.
Your booth is the second from the
jukebox, unless you retire to one of
the tables to play bridge. You know
Fast Freddie and Manny down in
the pool hall; they reserve table
five for you.
Basically though, you are a child of
the night. You love dark corridors,
gloomy skies, hard blues. Your
favorite book is Dracula.
Other people on your corridor don't
know your real name. They refer to
you by silently shaking their heads.
You do have a nickname the whole
dorm knows though, pointing out
your peculiar idiosyncracies. It
might not be "Birdman" or "White
Rabbit" or "The Alien", but it is
recognizable enough.
10:30 p.m.: Pretzels and beer and
"It Takes A Thief."
PAGE 26 /
L
the frat rat
Like the other rats, you—the frat
rat—have your own distinctive
costume, which you believe is a
signal flag to members of the
opposite sex that you are the type
of man who reads Playboy"—i.e..
a real plastic swinger. From your
fashion-collared pocket-stayed
Gant shirts to your weejun boots.
you are in the height of style.
Those of you frats who are rich, but
don't want to be particularly
ostentatious or engage in
conspicuous consumption, own
only a regular Cutlass instead of a
442. Even so. it is equipped with a
vinyl roof, black vinyl interior, a
stereo tape deck with a four-speaker
system, and bucket
seats—with the middle hump
covered by a pillow so you and
your date can. thus neutralizing
one of the most effective means of
birth control today. To create your
own rhythm, you can also use your
variable-speed windshield wiper.
Booze and boobs used to be your
staple. On big outings, you were
always ready with a bottle in the
car as soon as your date got in.
When fixing a date for one of your
brothers, the greatest compliment
you can pay a girl is, "Like, man,
you'll really dig her: she can drink
me under the table." For you know
you have to pour drink after drink
down the almost-insatiable
Newcomb gullet before you can
hope for some ACTION.
In the liberated Tulane of today
though, grass has assumed all the
mystique of a fifth of Scotch or
Bourbon. Now when you pick up
your date, you often just ask. 'Hey.
baby, ya' wanna turn on? ' In one
way or another though, you are still
looking for your Southern Comfort.
You sucker pledges into joining the
fraternity because they pay the
dues. They are greeted by the
Face—the rush chairman with the
$100,000 smile. Funny how all you
big brothers, who promised the
freshmen to get them dates and to
tutor them, now either ignore them
completely once they are pledged.
or go to them on a Friday before a
football game with a "Hey, Sam, I
PAGE 28 /
bet you know a lot of freshman
girls in your classes." Your
brothers are your real pals until
they get the paddle into their hand,
with a sadistic gleam to their
eye—then watch out! When drunk
though, you form your collective
womb, and hold hands, and sing.
and stomp through the beer sludge
while your dates look on.
Cute, isn't it?
Your greatest possible pleasure is
a football weekend. If you want to
be true to your name as a frat rat.
you must already be bombed at the
pre-game cocktail party. The
purpose of the football game itself
is to get your date excited, to yell
obscenities and to thereby parch
your throat. And after the game
there is the glorious dance, more
appropriately called the ball.
You have Playboy nudes on all four
walls and your bible is the Frosh
which comes out every year just in
time for you to call up prospects to
inquire. "Say, do you look as neat
as your picture? And would you
like a date with a real live Frat
Rat?"
minnie mouse
It is hard to characterize the
thoroughly modern Minnie. You are
rapidly changing your image from
that of the villager-clad, weejun-shod,
well-bred filly (sired by Who's Who
out of Social Register). In accord with
the changing trends of fashion, you,
the Newcomb co-ed are now sporting
faded blue jeans, tie dyed T-shirts
(sans bra), and an occasional maxi-skirt:
the midis never did quite make
it on campus. The coiffure has
remained basically unchanged: with
the exception of an occasional shag,
you still grow your mane long enough
to be able to shake it in the breeze.
Socially our young lady finds
herself in quite a quandry. The
frat man just isn't movmg swiftly
enough to keep pace with her
liberated attitudes. But that only
leaves the REAL FREAKS! And
everybody knows that in addition to
being dirty, and smelly, and addicted.
they are also victims of various
unmentionable sexual diseases. This
leaves you no alternative but to
demean yourself on Friday and
Saturday nights and to don your Dior
originals and make the scene at the
Top of the Mart (capitalism is really
disgusting isn't it?). But after all.
Mommy and Daddy didn't shell out
516,000 to have you graduate
ringless.
Another traumatic problem which
confronts the "new " Newcombite, is
the old sorority hang-up. Like it or not
girls, it is still part of the 'status-quo'
. Thus even the girl who is trying
desperately to become part of the
•Now" generation must subject
herself to pangs of Rush. Although
the emphasis is not quite as heavy
(girls no longer transfer to LSU for a
semester to pledge Chi Omega there,
and the suicide attempts when the
Kappa rejection list comes out are not
quite as prevalent), the bidding is still
very important.
The sexual revolution is not quite the
scene at Newcomb yet. Although it
has been rumored that there has not
been a virgin Newcomb grad since
before the days of Sophie herself,
Nancy cannot quite bring herself to
fornicate on the quad. Drugs? Well.
everybody is smoking now. I mean
even some of the straight people
engage m illicit marijuana activities.
But hard dope? Do you think I would
do that to My bod? They cant prove
that the pill is medically harmful you
know.
Alas everybody knows that the Real
world isn't very interested m what the
"Now" generation is doing to change
the Newcomb co-ed. After four years
as a fashionable freak you will
obviously have released all of your
hostilities and surrender. You will
take your place among the ranks of
other "educated ' housewives.
/ P.\GE 29
mighty mouse
Life is like a game of football.
And football develops mature,
responsible young men. That's why
you need bed check and study hall.
But all work and no play makes
Jock a dull boy. You have two main
recreational activities—machine
smashing and queer bashing.
Bystanders might be appalled at
first to see you singlehandedly
reduce a sparkling new candy
machine into a squeaking hulk of
junk before their very eyes. But to
watch a wild beast in anger is a
beautiful thing.
The philosophic undertones of your
actions are apparent moreover, to
anyone who has studied the
Luddite movement or the risings of
the German Handwerker in 1848.
You stand as the unsung hero of all
those unable to cope in the
increasingly technological,
complex world of today. You use
only your brute instincts for
survival, bringing back ancient,
fond memories of an earlier era.
For college has taught you that
"intellectual means ineffectual.
Isn't that what your whole
education has been about?
As for queer bashing, you define a
queer as anyone who has long hair
or who stands under six feet in
height and who (horrors) doesn't
care to work out with weights daily.
Or who (worst of all) perhaps even
likes classical music. It's enough to
make a decent American sick.
After all, there's nothing really
wrong with roughing up a few
"queers." So roll on. Green Wave.
Violence is as American as apple
pie.
It's not that football glorifies
violence or ir-rat-ional solutions to
your problems, whether you're
blitzing in on defense or tossing
the long bomb. It's not that football
PAGE 30 /
overemphasizes blind obedience to
your leader and fascistic
discipline. But what ever happened
to the old Statue of Liberty play?
Actually, the campus has a
disturbing'tendency to lump you
together with all the others who
live on the upper floors of Sharp,
whereas,you might not have all that
much in common with your
floormates. You might be in college
to study primarily and to play
sports only secondarily. You might
even be a weekend hippie.
But the campus does group all of
you together, for they come into
little contact with you, thinking that
there are two entirely separate
cultures living side by side,
speaking separate languages and
having little regard for each other.
Thus, your language is thought to
be marked by the extensive use of
monosyllablization and by the use
of a different system of morphemes
and phonemes than the rest of the
campus—in short, your speech is
blunted, stunt6k:l, grunted.
And the almost superhuman
initiation rites intiSlx3(SKeiom prevent
the plebeian student from ever
being admitted into your august ^
SQclety. And on youftpwtfyojj do " \
jpbt care to mingle with the scholar.
In facj^you strangely enough 4
engage in foraging raids into the
scholarly community only in
January and May, for reasons asufi
yet undetermined. Like uphill |
Indisin tribes who annually raid.fj^e
lowlands in search of salt however,
your raids are thought to be^;^^^'-^
caused by the need for sq.
commodity you are ordinaril
unable to naturally produce
Mens sane in corpore sano^
be an excellent classical
educational dictum, but the student
sometimes feels it becomes
ludicrous if the administration
promotes a sound mind in an
entirely separate and distinct
group frorh those whose sound
body it glorifies and immortaliz
in the annals of sports history.
Somehow, the student gets the
feeling that, given a time door to
ancient Greece, the University
would not even try to retrieve Plato
or Aristotle or Pericles but rather
turn its sole attention to the 300
Spartans who held back the
\mmortals of Xerxes at Thermopoli;
Imagine them with shoulder pads
on, clad in the old olive and blue!
the pack rat
You denizens of the Quad, you
Frisbee freaks, dance to the beat of
a different drum. You wear
designer clothes—army surplus
originals, with sandals and beads.
It's your uniform.
You also grow your hair long and
frizzy because hair is all protein,
life's essence, and the more hair
you have, the greater your life
essence. Frizzy hair also acts as
receptor antennae for the dark
interplanetary forces, cosmic rays,
emanating from heavenly bodies in
the zodiac belt and giving you
power.
You say you need neither food nor
water to survive, only the scent of
wildflowers.
It's not that you believe in
astrology, but it never does one
harm to consult one's daily
horoscope, does it? You were born
on the cusp of the third house. You
no longer toss a coin when you
take multiple-choice tests;
consulting your ouiji board is. after
all. much more scientific.
Hard-core freaks live in the
Quarter or in their Volkswagen
vans (very high status). And then
there's Cherokee Street, the zoo
and Creighton House. You do not
live on twelfth floor Monroe. You do
find splendour in the grass
(Shakespeare's words, not ours) at
the Festival of Life, every Sunday in
the park. You move frequently, and
your forwarding address reads
simply "parts unknown." The same
could be said of your hair.
You sit on the U.C. steps, eight-by-two
abreast.
"What we have here is a failure to
communicate. " So the warden tells
Cool-Hand Luke. Your own
conversation at times fails to get its
message across to those over
thirty, who—you complain—never
can talk to us. Like, man, ya know
what I mean? Real heavy,
otherwise a bummer. All you can
talk about is how high you got last
night, which shows your superiority
over the frat man whom you
degrade. They only can talk about
how bombed they got last night.
You can also rap about what a
lousy, stinking, rotten place the
U.S. is. constantly criticizing and
carping the straight society. Let he
who is stoned cast the first.
Anyway, you're soon migrating
(you fly very high). Crete is a great
place this time of year, almost as
good as Morocco, though not quite
as good as Nepal or Sikkim.
You are ingenious. Who would
have guessed that the best place to
hide your lid is in the elevator
shaft, between third and fourth
floor, or in the hung ceiling?
You drop out. College, after all. is
just subsidized by the military-in-dustrial
complex to turn out those
half-human products that they use
as tools to meet their needs. Who
needs it? That's why a lot of you go
only part-time and hang around
here. If you work really hard at it.
you can manage to do absolutely
nothing all day long, except maybe
listen to the great vibes from your
set. And then there's the
Warehouse on the weekend.
If you are going full-time, you are a
drama or psychology major. The
real weirdos go m for philosophy.
You are definitely, definitely not a
freak if you read the Jamb. After
all. Marshall McCluhan says you
have turned away from the Western
tradition of a visual culture to
audio-tactile one. And you know
that's true.
Marshall McLuhan said it.
PAGE 32 /
the king rat
Suave and slick, you are on an ego
trip of your very own as a student
politician. Neatly groomed, you
wear wing tips and flair trousers
(you wouldn't be caught dead in
anything as wild as bell bottoms).
You stand in the front at senate
meetings while delivering your
prepared impromptu speech
worrying whether or not your fly is
open.
You are a schemer—an insipid,
immature, colorless manipulator, a
weasel, a worm. Student politics
for you is only a stepping stone to
greater deeds. "Today student
senator, tomorrow . . .
?"
Student government could be an
effective way of getting things done
around here, but you must
formalize and impersonalize it to
such an extent that it stagnates
under the weight of your created
inertia. You transfer all the errors
of national government—unwieldy
in its stifling mass of
bureaucracy—to student
government, which should be much
more effective in transferring
desires into practice because of its
size.
Under the facade of legal
procedure, you thwart such goals
and see to it that only your plans
are enacted. On your nightstand,
Robert's Rules of Order is your
daily inspiration. You read it 15
minutes a day, before retiring. You
want to be a Big L.
You either cop out to the
administration daily or you "go to
the people" and tell them that you
are going to be a different kind of
representative by getting everyone
involved in improving the campus
academia and campus
atmosphere. "I'm not talking about
having 30 or 40 really involved
people on campus; I'm talking
about having two or three thousand
people up in arms over what is
happening to Tulane." In any case,
plastic radical or not, your fourth
year you cut your hair short for
your job interview with Scott Paper
Co.
You have a firm, dry handclasp and
nothing up your sleeve; you use
Chapstick (because you talk so
much) and Lysol Breath Spray and
Glorets gum and the all-new Hot
Comb.
Some people respect you because
they think you know how to pull
strings to accomplish your goals.
More often than not, though, you
are yourself a puppet on a string.
You do have contacts, though; they
look so much better than glasses.
You also have the gift of gab. Too
bad Pandora let it out of the box to
plague mankind so.
lere is
more satisf
jWT^., 30.-^0
glcks^_ Mouse,'" the
you, "but wait until you get into the
R^ALARMY." :'—>
_ -
/hat he doesn't tell, you -feth'
rople who have been" in the ser-
,vice, whether army or navy or air
|fDrce. for 20 years have yet to scale
v&'Dove the MicKe^j^ous|^hat is
peitinent h^fc^TowevPr is to
discuss where you can find the
REAL ROTC.
It is hard to find you right now,
for it is no longer acceptable to be
in ROTC on campuses throughout
the country. Rumor has it, though,
that you are alive and well and liv-ing
in the barracks. You slink over
to the Stadium to drill on Tuesdays,
11 a.m. All this reeks of a clandes-tine
operation, which is a shame
really. For as long as the armed
services must exist, the officers
might as well come from liberal
enlightened campuses as from
isolated military enclaves of
"higher education." The hassle
students give you is just to remind
you that not everyone agrees with
the military propaganda you have
to daily imbibe, to make you aware
that not everyone blankly accepts
and supports all of the military's
policies.
But you do go to drill and march
around like mmdiess automotons
or carefully crafted androids. The
later has to give you courses
|litary Iq^dt^rship and initiative
in revive any lifelike
fhe warm bodies it has
fostered.
mow nothing. You only
follow orders. You do not question.
This is the connection ROTC has
/ith an inquisitive liberal e(i,uca-/,
tion. Too bad, even so, your trai
thought doesn't run on time.
If you are an underclassman in
ROTC, you are a real fanatic. "I'-Q^
going to go airborne armor," you
say, "because on your dress uni-forms,
you get to wear not only a
long, sharp, shiny sword, but also
silver spurs on your low quarter
dress shoes."
You buy cold beer at Eddie's,
and then put it into your footlocker
for three hours to let it warm up
because "that's the way they drink
it in Nam." Some of the more hip of
you might even smoke pot, unbe-knownst
to your ROTC leaders, but
even then, it's only because you're
in combat training for Nam and
want to experience battlefield con-ditions.
If you go to airborne school you
don't even have to make five jumps
to get your wings. You just have to
complete four. If you don't make it
down in one piece the fifth time,
the army will mail your wings (reg-ular
postage) home to mother.
If you are an upperclassman, you
might not be quite so fanatic
because you have been caught
signing your life away before the
The lptter^3{^ects all of you
tremendously. Some really gung-ho
idQvil dogs drop out of ROTC once
they learn their number is too high
r them ever to be ^p^ to se,
,nd some of you a^^^n r'
lecause your numbe/'s up. a(
'ou gotta go, go as an officer
it's a good exercN
pocricy. And off in the di§?ance
you hear the s^ken sTrar»ds of
Uncle Sam singing "r,v§j^^Your
Number. " You certairTiynope he
has some for you: it's pleasant to
have at least some amenities that
far from civilization.
And after all, where would this
country be without the military-in-dustrial
complex? So kill for a
better America.
Some of you don't really have
blood lust though: that's why you
backed President Nixon when he
sent forces into Cambodia and
Laos to show the Hanoi govern-ment
our great desire for world
peace.
And then some of you are only in
ROTC to learn a good trade. One
might even qualify to get a com-mercial
pilot's license, or a river
pilot's one. After all, what can one
do with just a B.A. but drive an ice
cream truck? At least in the armed
forces, you can learn something
that will be beneficial to you once
you get out—if you get out. Like
maybe: you could become a mer-cenary.
the yat b-rat
If you can remember when Eddies
was called Kollege Korner, and the
Hob Nob was Casamento's, you
qualify as a neighborhood b-rat.
You learned how to walk and skate on
the oak-tree lined tennis courts where
Butler House now is. You rapidly
grew up to become the terror of the
campus, the Creature from Audubon
Park Lagoon, racing around on your
Vroom bicycle, tripping up college
students, acting generally obnoxious.
After school every day, you used to
rush straight over to Kollege Korner
(remember?), drop your first quarter
into the machines, and light your first
Marlboro simultaneously. You
practiced in front of a mirror for
fifteen minutes a day to make sure
you let your ciggie droop at precisely
the correct angle. Kookie on "77
Sunset Strip" was your idol.
Then you'd go over to Newcomb quad
to play football, knowing that the
passing Newcomb girls (whom you'd
like to make a pass at—"Where y'at,
dawlin' ") were secretly eyeing your
bronzed bod as you cocked your arm
back for a pass, letting them furtively
glimpse at the newly-grown tuft of
underarm hair that proved you were
now ALL MAN.
Upon puberty, you, the neighborhood
b-rat, can qualify as a Yat. As a young
adult Yat, you are fairly easy to spot
with the naked eye. Generally
speaking, the male Yat is usually
attired in faded blue jeans, the waist
of which is placed between twelve
and fifteen inches from the neck.
Furthermore, a male Yat-in-heat is
often seen carrying a pink or blue
hair bruah which protrudes from the
back pocket of his jeans. Generally,
the male Yat will wear (along with his
jeans) a chic Ban-Lon shirt with an
alligator stitched on. Often though,
male Yats can fool even the
experienced Yat-watcher, for they
may on rare occasions, be dressed in
coat and tie. If by chance, the sight of
eight feet of axle-greased, combed-straight-
back hair doesn't give one an
inkling that this may be a Yat, he may
look for the minor trademark: white
socks, usually worn with dark suits.
The female Yat, though somewhat
less colorful, is fairly easy to detect.
One definite giveaway is fourteen feet
of teased hair in combination with six
falls (pronounce "Fawls"). But if she
is not chewing gum (Juicy Fruit) or
teasing her hair even more, she may
not be a Yat at all, but rather just a
Loyola student.
Once you are accepted at Tulane, you
try to deny your heritage by
condemning everything you have
NEVER been ashamed of. Your 1957
metallic blue Chevrolet with mag
rims, dual exhausts, Mardi Gras
beads hanging from the rear-view
mirror, defunct St. Christopher on the
dashboard, and "Hell no, we ain't
forgettin' " licence plates must give
way to a Corvette or a Cougar at the
least. Now the real transition; all your
clothes must be altered. Your mother
has to buy "Gant" labels for all your
shirts, including the alligator Ban-
Lons. Not only do you have to get rid
of your white socks, you have to get
rid of socks altogether.
Next comes the complete personality
take-over: you have to find a place on
your head to put a part. The brush
goes, and eventually the "security
comb" you carried your first few
months as a freshman. And then (the
most unkind cut of all) you will be
forced, by ridicule, to renounce your
favorite chant, "Where y'at, ya
motha?" "Where y'at?" is reserved
for upper-class Westchester County
residents who alone can make fun of
this saying. Worst of all, you have to
sneak in to .the Saints games so none
of your new friends will see you.
PAGE 34 /
and the mole
"I study, therefore I am."
As a mole, you are very accustomed
to night life. Not on Bourbon Sreet or
in Eddie's or in any of the other
symbols of the pseudo-decadence of
New Orleans, but rather, locked up in
your room, pouring over the delights
of your medical or law tracts.
Hauntmg, enchanting the little
bald mole
Are dim-lit halls, musty stalls.
Sacred spell of book-smell.
Undergraduates, or apprentice moles,
can learn the basic techniques of
your rare art easily—an utter disdain
for fellow students (groundlings), a
blank stare on your sleepless face as
you gaze out at the world through
your myopic haze, an almost
complete inability to communicate
with others. Who wants to talk about
tort cases in loss of consortium or of
the crisis of the aristocracy in 17th
century England all the time?
Your ability to criticize all aspects of
the University are simply amazing.
You criticize, but never participate in
anything going on at Tulane. If you
are a med student, you might go to
football games: otherwise, you may
as well be in Timbuktu. You live in a
different world; more appropriately,
cloud nine. You are already studying
intently to become an absent-minded
professor.
What is really amazing about your
dislike of the plebian student is that
going to Tulane might be a step up
for him and only a resting place
before going on to a better graduate
school, while your very being at
Tulane in most of the graduate
departments and professional
schools usually means that you have
been a failure elsewhere.
You did go out on a date once—you
remember, don't you? You brought
her home right after the opera and
rushed back to your room because
you knew you could still get in
another four or five hours of serious
booking before turning in.
You inhabit the library: some people
think you just crawl out of the
woodwork. You are not one of the
regular second or third floor
socialites, who go there only to make
dates for Friday night or xerox
someone's notes in the
photoduplication room or flit around
generally or go to the water fountain
or the bathroom every fifteen minutes
to spec out the new chicks who are
also wandering around looking for a
date for Friday night. Instead, you
thrive in the carrells, in the rear
typing stalls, on the fourth floor.
You are not completely straight. You
take speed—not to fly high, but to
cram better.
A hallmate once remarked of you,
"This is the stuff professors are made
of. " Strangely enough, you took it as
a compliment.
You would not degrade yourself by
studying anything useful: if you are an
expert in Chinese Ming dynasty vase
distribution in the East African
highlands, society should find a niche
for you to fit in. After all. it is the duty
of the scholar to research and to
write: it is the duty of the society to
accept those revelations the scholar
deems fit to make. Unfortunately, this
policy of yours has somewhat
backfired. Last week, you placed an
ad in the Times-Picayune:
"For sale: One Philosopher. Cheap.
Can Carp and can speak with pebbles
in mouth. 865-771 1 , ext. 420."
k
^^
^'^'
<l
•N
4
, S
v;. \
QO^
^:-i^
\< ^
emsis
As Tulane University entered the 1970's, the
outlook for its future seemed, in many ways,
bleak. Tulane was not unique in having
problems, of course. "The crisis of the
private university" had already become a
cliche during the late 1960's, as even the
wealthiest schools began finding red ink
on their ledgers. Costs for faculty salaries,
staff wages, building construction, library
purchases, student housing, etc., had
increased much faster than the ever-rising
tuition payments could match. The Vietnam
war limited the amounts of Federal aid
available after 1965, and the recession of
1970 caused a further tightening of both
Federal and private contributions. Tulane's
endowment was much smaller than those of
other leading Southern universities.
In addition, of course, the student disruptions
at countless schools, beginning about 1965,
caused many more problems for all American
higher education—physical destruction,
hostility between students, and faculty, and
administrators, polarization of opinions, and
over-politicalization of education. At Tulane
the amount of actual destruction and
disruption was small; and in this respect the
school was more fortunate than many richer
and more famous institutions. But even here,
the antagonisms created between various
parts of the University community (especially
over the case of mathematics Associate
Professor Edward Dubinsky, fired in 1969 for
his part in several campus disturbances)
were often deep and divisive. (Moreover,
alumni unhappiness over campus unrest, and
over the entire youthful "counter-culture,"
was unlikely to increase their willingness to
make the large contributions Tulane badly
needed.)
The effects of the financial squeeze at Tulane
were evident—cutting back on the number of
graduate degree programs, limiting the
number of new instructors and professors,
restricting the purchase of new equipment.
Yet the nature of the crisis at Tulane, on the
threshold of the 1970's, went deeper than just
the lack of money.
One aspect of the crisis could be seen In the
results of the 1969 survey of graduate
programs, sponsored by the American
Council on Education. Of 24 Tulane graduate
departments rated, none received either of
the top two (out of six) possible ratings, and
only four received the third highest rating,
"Good". Most of Tulane's departments were
graded only "Adequate" or "Marginal". In
short, despite the reputation this University
had long enjoyed as one of the foremost
PAGE 38 /
educational institutions in the South, the
quality of its educational offerings was just
not rated very highly by fellow professionals.
And there could be no denying that during
the 1960s, the quality of several important
departments had deteriorated noticeably.
A second aspect of the crisis could be seen
in the report of a special committee of the
American Association of University
Professors, sent to Tulane to investigate
whether standards of academic freedom had
been violated by the dismissal of Professor
Dubinsky.
On the basis of the report, issued in
December, 1970, it seemed unlikely that
Tulane would be censured for its actions, but
the committee was critical of the procedures
followed by President Longenecker and the
Board of Administrators in overriding faculty
recommendations in the matter. More
important perhaps, this outside committee
found that the case had "Produced
dissension and antagonism among different
groups within the faculty, and on the part of a
substantial portion of the faculty toward the
administration and the governing board." and
that this dissension had been "further
aggravated by decisions on other matters."
such as the graduate program reductions, the
intensified athletics program, etc.
"In our view," the investigating educators
said, "if this dissension continues, it can have
grave consequences for the effectiveness of
Tulane University as an institution of higher
education."
Its financial problems alone did not seem
likely to destroy Tulane, particularly if
increased Federal aid should be resumed in
the 1970's. Those problems could be faced
and overcome, if the whole University
community were to work together. But first
there had to be a community. The
disaffection among many faculty members.
both old and young: the consequent
departures of many outstanding teachers and
scholars: the inability to attract top-caliber
graduate students and administration: the
growing isolation of the President from the
rest of the University, both faculty and
students—these and other related problems
struck at the very life of the University. If not
corrected or ameliorated before long, they
indeed seemed able to plunge Tulane into a
possibly fatal crisis.
—Bruce Eggler
/ PACE 39
Seeds for the student owned and operated bookstore
were planted somewhere in the midst of the spring
events of the Tulane Liberation Front. More an
attitude than actuality, the Mushroom sprang up
impromtu in Student Senate Room B of the University
Center. Its main attraction was low priced used
books and records. Its purpose: to offer an
alternative to the University bookstore. Routine
returned after the dismissal of classes, but the
Mushroom did not fade away.
During the calm of the summer, the Mushroom was
permanently located in Zemurray Hall in a former
trunk storage room. Settled and recognized in
September as an authorized student activity, the
Mushroom, expanded and thrived. And
establishment did not sour the attitude.
Limited only by space and the restriction against
selling new textbooks, the student manager and staff
aim to serve the entire Tulane community. The
atmosphere is informal: music plays as the customer
browses for his books, records, film, threads,
paraphenalia. Nobody is pressured. People who drop
in to talk or to see what's new are as welcome as the
student who dashes in just before closing time.
Orders are placed for items which are not stocked.
Despite a hesitancy within certain elements of
Tulane to take advantage of the Mushroom's
potential, a profit was recorded by the end of first
semester. So, prices were further reduced and in
early spring, air conditioning was installed. Cool
attitude complemented by cool temperature—an
unbeatable combination.
Working through the Housing and Finance Office, the
student-run operation can rely on the backing and
the facilities of the University for assistance. The first
managerial change comes up this summer, but no
alteration of the store's character is anticipated. The
Mushroom is now one year young; that must make it
a perennial?
—Pat Parks
Newcomb '73
PAGE 42 /
/ pa«;e 4.3
[DII1II[
iov[ or
I
"It was a vertical slab . . . perfectly sharp-edged and symmetrical, it was so black It seemed
to have swallowed up the light falling upon it; there was no surface detail at all. It was
impossible to tell whether it was made of stone or metal or plastic—or some material
altogether unknown to man."
Thus Arthur Clarke described the monolith in his book, 2007.- A Space Odyssey. It was around
this crystalline slab that sub-human primates performed their first rituals which would for later
man, become the techniques for realizing the Universe. How could such a shapeless form
create within man the potential for exploring the Universe?
The question could very well be asked about the very monolith which has deposited itself with
tombstone precision across our campus. How can such a giant and featureless slab inspire
scientists engaged in creative research to seek greater understanding of such a varied
Universe?
Affectionately termed the new science center, this structure spans the length of the campus
along Freret Street and graces the entire academic Tulane campus with its imposing five
PAGE 44 /
stories. Effectively it slices the academic campus from the non-academic, not unlike a wall with
several gates. As one architect commented, "Its a nice place to walk through."
Historically speaking, the idea of improving science facilities at Tulane has been around since
World War II. Not until 1964 however, did serious planning begin. With prospective funds in
sight, two buildings which were to form a science complex were considered. What followed
seems to be little more than bad planning and bad luck. In the absence of a campus
development plan, a site was chosen, which proved to be aesthetically as well as structurally
unsound. One University official estimated about a year's delay as a result of the relocation.
Inflation and labor drain caused by Hurricane Betsy sent construction prices sky-rocketing.
The plan for two units was dropped, and the new site on Freret was selected.
The 1968 undergraduate bulletin showed the artist conception of the building, by then under
construction, with the completion date listed as 1969. The building was not to be completed
until two years later. Completion was set formally as March 1, 1971, but incomplete construc-tion
and delays in furniture and equipment installation caused problems which resulted in
delaying use of the building until the fall of 1971. By this time, a frightening financial situation
had caused the University to cut back a number of items including an auditorium, a green
house, an elevator, several environmental chambers, quite a few fume hoods, architectural
concrete for the ends and second floor of the exterior, and some of the intercom, clock, and
thermostat systems. Plans are still indefinite about the building of two more additional stories,
which the foundations were laid to support.
This varied and unfortunate history doubtlessly had a number of effects on the monumental
design of the building, inside and out. Physics department Chairman Robert Morris believes the
interior exhibits a distinct lack of design. Chemistry Professor William Alworth partially agrees.
Alworth says even though the faculty was originally consulted about the lab design, the
teachers were not consulted again after their plans had been revised. The chemistry
researcher blames this as the reason for much of the superfluous equipment and furniture
which complements a lack of other more essential items.
One of those mostly responsible for the faculty input that went into the design is a biology
professor, who today is considerably upset by the building. He is Dr. Frank Sogandares, who
will be leaving this year partially because of the new science complex. "It's an insult, " he
claims. "The move to the new building will be a move to mediocrity." Sogandares has been
here 12 years, and served as coordinator for science planning before construction. He believes
the building can only adequately accommodate two departments; but persistent deans, not
familiar with scientific laboratories, have tried to "give everybody a piece of the cake." The
well known biologist went on to say that the government may withdraw some of their support
because of the building's inadequate animal facilities and substandard cages.
Sogandares is understandably upset. If he were to move into the new building from his newly
renovated lab in Richardson Memorial, he would lose nearly two-thirds of his present
space—"a physical impossibility," he calls it.
One of the departments which was moved in at the last minute was Physics. The entire
department with the exception of Riverside facilities, a machine shop, lecture rooms, and a
Newcomb departmental office will move into the building. Dr. Morris explains the new facilities
are adequate; a great improvement over the present research facilities. The Physics
/ PAGE 45
department, with its departmental office, four undergraduate labs, and several advance
research areas will cost the Chemistry department six research labs and an office. Chemistry
will retain its freshman labs and lecture room in the chemistry building.
Psychology, the fourth of the science quartet, is rather happy to find a consolidated home for
its scattered department. Nevertheless, departmental Chairman Jack Buel intends to hold on to
other psychology space currently held by that department.
What then, considering these shortcomings, did Tulane get for its $6.8 million? Obviously since
$5 million of that is Federal money, and the government only buys research labs, Tulane got a
lot of lab, teaching, graduate, faculty, and research facilities. In fact, it is just a little astounding
that the first academic building on campus since the 1930's has no class rooms. Architecture
Professor Bill Turner explained what this means: Something less than desirable area is serving
as renovated classroom facilities for Tulane. "But makeshift classrooms are the penalty we
pay, until the government decides to start subsidizing them," he said.
Aside from the labs, little money is being spent on new equipment, according to several
teachers. "We will be sitting in nice new labs, but working with outdated equipment,"
complained one biologist. The Physics department gets no new equipment to speak of,
according to Dr. Morris, who claims an eye will tiave to be kept on the old equipment brought
in to make sure it's not outdated. Again, Sogandares comments, with limited janitorial service,
old furniture, equipment, and overcrowded conditions, the place will resemble a slum.
But where then, did the $6.8 million go? Another professor explained, "The designers told the
architecturally-minded persons that the money was going into providing good labs and
equipment, and they told the science professors that it was going to make an attractive
exterior." There are some who feel neither was accomplished. Professor Turner describes the
building as being "anonymous," having no great attraction, but also no great offense. "It's
rather neutral," he claims, and he adds, "the best thing about it is the hole." Referring to the
pedestrain plaza. Turner feels it is the only graceful thing about the structure. Graduate School
Dean and University Provost David Deener likes the design. "The building represents the
sciences." he once told a University forum. "It looks like a big computer card." Few would
disagree on the last point. The temptation to paint "IBM" on the corner of the building is great.
Despite its contemporary architecture, (or more likely, the lack of it), the building does have a
number of good features. Tulane Resident Architect Edmond Bendernagle likes the staggered
windows (including the ones assigned to the dark-rooms). The pastel interiors are nice, and
each floor has a different color to help one distinguish the rather non-descript halls from each
other. Turner likes the flexibilities which the design gives.
Unlike the specialized buildings which rapidly become outdated, the center is as useful as a
warehouse. Even Sogandares thinks the building is the most functional in Southeastern United
States. Chemist Dr. Dwight Payne finds the slate topped benches, the wooden cabinets, and
PAGE 46 /
the new offices very attractive. However, it is perhaps Dr. Morris who found the most attractive
aspect of the building: it offers an excellent opportunity for unity in the sciences; hopefully by
co-operation among departments with similar inter-disciplinary interests. "Besides." he
continued, "I've seen worse."
Despite the debate about the design, it is obvious that the space can be nothing but a most
welcome addition to an already overcrowded campus. It is unfortunate that a number of
territorial disputes will accompany this building. This however, is not uncommon for any
construction which fails to satisfy the needs of all the departments concerned. Perhaps the true
test of the building will be its ability to unify the quests of man, and stress this co-operation
over the imperfections of structure and space. Only when the structure of the "monolith" can
be ignored and more introspection given to human achievment. can mankind begin to realize
the Universe.
—Robert Thompson
A & S 73
n
II
Ji li
111
AN EDITORIAL
"A political resource is a means by which one person
can influence the behavior of other persons; political
resources therefore include money, information, food,
the threat of force, jobs, friendship, social standing,
the right to make laws, votes, and a great variety
of things." —Robert A. Dahl, Modern
Political Analysis
The Tulane Board of Administrators is historically a self-perpetuating
body composed of men who have represented the same relative power
positions in the New Orleans business, civic, and social worlds since
Tulane 's inception in 1882. They have consistently possessed the
political resources necessary to influence the behavior of other
persons. Inter-acting with each other in numerous firms, organizations,
and activities, they have established interlocking relationships that
allow them to communicate, influence, work, and associate with each
other. Because of this inter-action, the channels for collective
political action have been established. However, despite the potential,
the Administrators of the Tulane Educational Fund do not act collec-tively
and cohesively as the Tulane Board on political issues. Since
these men possess the political resourecs to exercise individual power
through other outlets, the Tulane Board is but a collective political
power in dormancy.
—Taken from "Power in Dormancy:
A Study of the Tulane Board of
Administrators as a Political
Power," a research paper pre-pared
for the Department of
Political Science by Mark Davis
and Steven Felsenthal.
PAGE 48 /
A Board Chart*
VV V X y X METROPOLITAN AREA CO?.MITTEE
XV XyX Xy CHAMBER OF COMMERCE
y(VX X V X COUNCIL FOR A BETTER LOUISIANA
X X X BOARD OF LIQUIDATION CITY DEBT
XX^ V yX ^ INTERNATIONAL HOUSE
XXVX X y UNITED FUND
Xy Xy OCHNER FOUNDATION HOSPITAL BOARD
"x X XX AMERICAN RED CROSS VX X BUREAU OF GOVERNMENTAL RESEARCH
X X SEWAGE AND WATER BOARD V X X METARIE PARK COUNTRY DAY SCHOOL
X X y EDUCATIONAL T.V. FOUNDATION
X X INTERNATIONAL TRADE MART
XXV VXX y X BOSTON CLUB
X XX X X NEW ORLEANS COUNTRY CLUB
V y TIMBERLANE COUNTRY CLUB
X X LAKEWOOD COUNTRY CLUB
X X X LOUISIANA CLUB
X V X PICKWICK CLUB
X X SOUTHERN YACHT CLUB
X
—
1
X PLIMSOL CLUB
in
<
<KWO
o
(-1
Q
o
•
Q
Wa
w
sK<Q
a
Q
<
o
t-H
a: o
QW
«
>-
CQ
w
a:
•
>-^
K
<
^
Oa
KP
<
W
w
w
>-
3;
tr
W
W<
n:
aw
E-l
>^ aaw
a:
Qa
;^ Q
W
W
M
a
a
<s
a<
wa
w
(K
Q
to
1—
(
CO
W
a
Eh
o:
tn
W
rc
E-l
HH
10
LO
<
C.I
l-i
w
EH
CO
IX <QW
(X w
:x uw<
E-l
* or —A Chart of the Board, or Who Belongs to What?
/ PAGE 49
\
^^'(r^ ;•<
Kfftf-^.!
n--
\
Who governs the university? Who
should govern the University? The
answer has yet to be established
after almost 1000 years of the Uni-versity
as an institution. In fact, the
state of university governance is
perhaps as much embroiled in con-troversy
now as it has ever been.
The controversy stems mainly from
the desire of students to have a
voice in the affairs of governance,
a voice commensurate with the
students' numbers, concern, and
involvement. Inevitably, sugges-tions
of such a radical departure
from tradition give rise to heated
feelings in the camps of all those
intimately involved and makes res-olution
of the question that much
more difficult.
Even as the controversy rages,
though, it should be pointed out
that the question of university
governance is not one of over-riding
concern to a great many
persons, including students. In-deed,
to the vast majority, the mere
problem of determining just who
makes the decisions now, is a dif-ficult
enough question. Trying to
understand the governance proce-dures
of the University can best be
described as an exercise in futility.
Opinions vary from one that says the
University is a hopeless bureau-cracy
that is totally unresponsive to
the needs of its members, to one
that says the University is an effec-tive,
although troubled, institution
that is attaining new heighths.
solving new problems, and re-sponding
to calls for reform.
The lack of interest on the part of
students in the method of operation
of the University stems primarily, I
believe, from the fact that students
have had so little involvement in
university governance that they are
not aware of the importance that
student involvement can have in
gaining not only student rights and
freedoms, but also a voice in other
university decisions that have been
previously determined without
benefit of student input.
Until very recently, students en-tered
college duly conditioned and
programmed to the fact that they
were to have little, if any, input into
the operation of the institution. The
job of governing and running the
University was in the hands of pro-fessionals
with elements of "de
facto" control vested in the faculty.
The student accepted such condi-tions
on face value and for years
blissfully ignored the entire state of
affairs. That day is past.
Students everywhere are beginning
to assert their right to be involved
in the decision-making process
within the university, and students
at Tulane are, again, no exception.
After years of leaving the task of
decision-making to others within
the university, American students
have realized that it is their own
education that is hanging in the
balance, and feel that it is time for
student voices to be heard in the
formulation of university policy.
With the initiation of the movement
for student participation in deci-sion-
making, the structure and
form of university governance
systems have come full circle. It
has taken 900 years for a fully
cooperating form of governance to
be proposed in universities. It is
small wonder that higher education
is constantly in crisis when one
views the history and the
development of university
governance. The first western
university was founded in Bologna,
Italy, during the final years of the
twelfth century. At the University of
Bologna, the student guild
controlled all aspects of institution
except the determination of those
persons eligible to teach. Beyond
this one prerogative held by the
teachers, students held an
all-encompassing power
that lasted for centuries, and
although the teachers began to
form guilds themselves, they were
powerless to overcome the student
guilds. By the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, though, the
resentment of the teachers, public
pressure, and the availability of
funds from sources other than
students made it possible for the
power to be transferred from the
student to external governing
bodies such as the Church or the
city. In England at the same time,
another pattern was emerging.
There, power was transferred from
the civic and church officials who
had founded the educational
institutions to the faculties of these
institutions. Such a transfer of
power meant that the faculty was in
complete control of the institution,
including the control of student life.
Institutions founded in America,
though, followed the example of
the Scots and added another
source of power and control, a
governing body of laymen. The new
American institutions left control of
\A/HO
SHALL
GOVERN,
NA/HO
SHALL
RULE?
BY RALPH WAFER.
STUDENT SENATE PRESIDENT,
JUNE 1. 1970 to MAY 31, 1971
student life in the hands of the
faculty, but vested control of the
institution in a board of laymen.
Since that time, "de facto" power
of the faculty has increased to the
point where they effectively
controlled the forming of academic
policies. Concurrent was this rise
in power of the faculty, the state of
the student declined. Institutions of
higher education took on a
paternalistic air as the role of the
student became more like that of a
child, a ward of the institution. In
such a patriarchial and autocratic
environment the student was
powerless to exert influence in any.
but the most indirect methods.
Finally by the end of the nineteenth
century, students were being
allowed to think and act for
themselves, but only in their non-academic
lives. In 1971 students
are still fighting for control of their
own lives, both in the academic
and non-academic sphere. The
resistance on the part of
administration and faculty is not
nearly so great, but until such
power IS gained, there will be
continuing pressure for reform.
The goal of the student movement
in this sense is not only student
control of student lives, but also
student voice in decision-making
for the university. The goal is to
have all constituencies of the
university determine policy and
goals rather than have any one
constituency make determinations
for the other. Justification for
student involvement in the
university decision-making process
can be made in several ways. Dr.
Earl McGrath, in Should Students
Share the Power, provides six
basic rationales for student
participation in decision-making.
/ PAGE 51
WHO
SHALL
GOVERN,
WHO
SHALL
RULE?
One, if education is so important to
life's well-being, and if students
are to be recipients of the benefits
of education, they should have a
voice in determining its character
and quality. Two, because of
increased concern with their own
education and concern over
inadequacies of many university
processes, student participation in
governance offers much in the way
of potential for the reform of higher
education. Three, providing
students opportunities for
participation in university
governance is a logical concept
when considered in light of the
purposes of a democratic society
and the purposes of institutions of
higher education within that
society. Four, providing students a
voice in academic bodies could
bring instruction closer to what
contemporary society requires that
students learn and make higher
education more relevant to the real
needs of people. Five, students
should have the right to govern
their own lives, which can be
provided by student participation
in governance and the abolition of
"in loco parentis." Six, because
students are in such a unique
position for the observation of
teaching, they are perhaps best
prepared to judge the teacher's
fulfillment of his professional
duties and obligations; therefore,
the student's role in the evaluation
reform of teaching should be a
major one.
In addition to Mr. McGrath's
reasons, there are others, one of
which is that the shared
responsibilities of students, faculty,
and administration of a joint
authority creates a vehicle for freer
communication and by including
students, creates a much greater
likelihood for responsible student
involvement in university affairs.
Another reason is that the
increased communication inherent
in cooperation between all groups
generates better understandings
and better feelings all around and
PAGE 52 /
significantly lessens the chance for
misunderstanding. Thirdly, joint
efforts at decision-making
engender a community feeling
which arises from participation in a
common enterprise. Joint effort
makes cooperation necessary;
tolerance and respect for other
groups and their opinions are
required in order to make the
concept work. An important
underlying concept that supports
student participation in university
governance, though, is the concept
that in a free society all those
affected by a social policy have a
right to a voice in its formulation.
This concept is applicable to the
formulation of policy and to the
decision-making processes within
institutions of higher education.
The symbolic workhorse of
university governance at Tulane is
the University Senate, a body made
up of administrative officers and
deans, faculty members, and
students. The total number of
voting members is 48, with the
largest group represented being
the faculty with 30 members. There
are four student members in the
Senate, the 11 college deans, and
the three top administrative
officers of the University. In the
origanizational structure of the
University, the University Senate is
the legislative body through which
legislation must pass on its way to
the President and the Board.
The highest authority within Tulane
is the University Board of
Administrators, whose power is
established by an act of the
Louisiana State Constitution (Act
43, 1884). The Board delegates
authority to the President of the
University, who in turn delegates
much of his authority to other
officers of the University, such as
matters of admissions to the
Director of Admissions, academic
matters to the Deans of the
respective college, athletics to the
Director of Athletics, and financial
matters to the Business Manager
and Comptroller.
The University Senate is
empowered to make
recommendations to the
administration on all matters of
general University concern as well
as the right to review actions of any
division of the University. If a
Senate recommendation is not
acceptable to the Board of
Administrators, the Board must
notify the Senate in writing of the
reasons for its decision. All
changes in academic policy that
are of general University concern
must be submitted to the Senate
for consideration. The Senate may
in turn delegate matters within its
jurisdiction to its standing or its
special committees.
The committee structure of the
University Senate is one of the
wonders that is Tulane. There are a
total of 20 standing committees,
ranging from the Committee on
Faculty Academic Freedom,
Tenure, and Responsibility, to the
Committee on Patents, to the
Committee on Student Affairs, to
the Committee on Admissions, to
the Committee on Committees.
Every conceivable function of the
University is covered by a
committee of one sort or another.
True to the sense of bureaucracy
by which all universities operate,
the University Senate is not all
adverse to referring things to
committee.
Students have direct input to 13 of
the 20 University Senate
committees by way of student
members who are nominated and
elected by the Student Senate. The
Student Senate, by way of quick
definition, is the duly elected
governing body for the students at
Tulane. It is comprised of 53
senators, who are elected by a
proportional representation system
to represent the 1 1 colleges of the
University. The Student Senate,
although quite large, is not nearly
so bogged down in procedure as
the University Senate. The Student
Senate has eight standing
committees which it uses rather
infrequently, choosing to conduct
most of its business on the floor of
the Senate. As a result, the Student
Senate is guilty of some extremely
long meetings, but because the
meetings are generally informal
and Robert's Rules are largely
ignored. Student Senate meetings
are not nearly as stultifying as
those in the University Senate. The
Student Senate's relationship with
the University Senate, other than
the four student members of the
University Senate, is through the
Student Affairs Committee. This
committee, a group of 15 faculty
and staff and five students, is
advisory to the Dean of Students
and to the University Senate on
matters dealing with student
affairs. By playing this role, the
committee is constitutionally
empowered to deal with many
matters that come out of the
Student Senate involving such
things as conduct, housing, and
student organizations.
A redeeming factor of the
committee system of the University
Senate is the frequent
independence of some of the
committees in regard to issues or
questions over which they feel they
have jurisdiction. In many cases a
committee will consider a matter
on its own initiative, or on the
request of another party within the
University. The more traditional
method of placing a matter before
a committee is for it to be referred
by the University Senate. The more
industrious committees do not wait
for such a referral from the Senate
to begin work as they strive to find
their own issues to consider. Other
committees are not so eager to
work and are quite content to do
nothing until the Senate requests
them to act.
A non-redeeming factor of the
University Senate committee
system lies with those inactive
committees that seem determined
to meet as infrequently as possible
and to steer clear of any and all
controversial matters. In several
cases the inaction of a committee
is due to the fact that it might deal
only with an annual event, such as
the awarding of honorary degrees,
the aegis of the Committee on
Honors, or graduation and
commencement, the aegis of the
Committee on Academic
Ceremonies. But in many other
cases the inaction is the result of a
resolution by the committee to
meet rarely and to do nothing.
Student participation on University
Senate committees has had
noticeable effect in many
committees, in the sense of helping
create a more active committee.
The primary reason any committee
is active is due to the desire for
involvement of the chairman, but
probably the second most
prominent reason is the desire for
participation and activity of the
student members. Unfortunately,
the enthusiasm of student
members is quite limited due to the
very small number of students on
University Senate committees. The
majority of committees with
student membership have only two
student members, with a typical
faculty membership of about ten.
Such a minority of students makes
it very difficult for effective student
participation, especially when the
rest of the committee wants to
meet as infrequently as possible.
Basically, though, such a
proportion of students to faculty is
really nothing more than tokenism
masquerading as student
participation.
The problem of determining the
proportion of student membership
on any committee of the University
Senate is a difficult one. At present
there is no rationale at Tulane for
determining the student proportion
on committees. On those
committees which have student
representatives the average
proportion is 20 per cent. The most
student on any committee is five on
the Student Affairs Committee,
which is 25 per cent of that
committee, but two is the more
common number.
One proposition that is put forth by
some theorists in the field of
university governance is the
concept of "one man, one vote,"
for the basis on which to determine
the make-up of university
governing bodies. This theory is
based on the notion that in a
completely democratic society in
which all electors are
presumptively qualified to cast
their ballots, the Supreme Court
doctrine of one man. one vote is
the doctrine to follow. Realistically,
though, in a university setting the
doctrine of "one man, one vote" is
inherently unfair as it would
transfer the power from the Board,
the administration, and the faculty
to the students, or as some others
might submit, to the alumni.
Several other reasons can be
submitted to invalidate a proposal
such as one man, one vote in the
university setting, but vesting all
the power in students, who are by
definition a transcient group,
violates the stability necessary for
the operation of a university.
Another proposition that is put
forth concerning university
governance does have much
credibility is the abolition of the
concept of "student
government "as it applies to
modern colleges and universities.
The connotation of "student
government" is inconsistent with
the present conception held by
students of their role m the
governance of an institution. The
concept of "student government"
accentuates the mythical
separation of education taking
place outside of the classroom as
well as inside. "Student
government" perpetrates an
artificial separation between two
aspects of a student's life that
should not be separated, that is.
his life inside the classroom and
out. The concept of "student
government" and the practice of it
violates the whole concept of
community. A proponent of student
participations strongest argument
is based on the concept that all
members of the University
community have a right to share in
the formulation of the rules and
laws under which they shall live.
Taking into consideration what has
been said so far and the
implications it has for Tulane. the
logical conclusion is that there is a
need for a master plan for student
participation. To date students are
included on many University
committees, but there is no reason
for the number of students on each
committee. Students are members
of the University Senate, but in
such a small minority that the mere
numbers of faculty and
administration present can be a
very numbing experience and can
make effective participation
extremely difficult. The other
conclusion that becomes apparent
is the great desirability of creating
at Tulane a community
government, suited to Tulane. and
abolishing in name and symbolic
importance of "student
government" or. for Tulane. the
Student Senate. The Student
Senate will almost always be
needed to serve as a forum for
opinion of the students as well as
coordinator of student activities,
but for the purposes of
government, hopefully the Senate
will no longer be needed. The new
form of government for Tulane
would be nothing more than
putting on a sound basis the
concept of student participation in
University government. To effect
the change in government requires
two things; one. an infusion of
students, and two. a basis for the
proportion of student membership.
The proportion of students on
University committees varies
greatly at Tulane. The highest
proportion is 40 per cent on the
Committee for the Academic
Freedom and Responsibility of
/ PAGE 53
WHO
SHALL
GOVERN,
WHO
SHALL
RULE?
students, and the lowest is 15 per
cent on the Committee on Health
Services. Of course there are many
committees where the proportion is
zero per cent because there are no
student members. Due to the fact
that many committees have
functions that are not directly
concerned with students, it makes
sense not to have the same
percentage of students on all
committees. Those committees that
have the greatest degree of
relevance to students should have
the largest percentage of student
membership, but that percentage
should be established.
There are three committees whose
functions deal almost solely and
directly with students: the
Committee on Student Affairs, the
Committee on Housing and Food
Services, and the Committee on
Academic Freedom and
Responsibility. A 40 per cent
student membership already exists
on the latter committee, and using
that as a basis, student
membership on the other two
should be increased to equal 40
per cent of the membership.
Student membership on the
Student Affairs Committee should
continue to increase beyond the 40
per cent established here because
that committee is the most
important one when it comes to
dealing with University rules
affecting students' lives.
There are a great many other
committees within the University
Senate structure that should have
increased student participation.
The percentage of student
membership proposed for these
committees is 33 per cent. The
basrs for this comes naturally from
the tripartite make-up of the
committees, but attempts to
equalize the divisions somewhat
At present the University Senate
constitution states that fulltime
research and teaching faculty must
comprise 75 per cent of a
PAGE 34 /
committee membership, exclusive
of voting student members, and
where otherwise not provided for in
the by-laws. This ruling could still
stand and absorb the new concept
for determining proportion of
student membership. Committees
that would fall under the 33 per
cent rule would be such
committees as the Committees on
Libraries. Admissions. Educational
Policy, Health Services, and others.
For those committees that have
only an indirect effect on students,
student membership equal to 25
per cent is proposed. The basis for
this is that 25 per cent of a total
committee membership would go
beyond the current token student
memberships that now exist on
many committees, but would not
necessitate a complete shift in the
make-up of the committee.
Committees that the 25 per cent
would apply to are: Committees on
Academic Ceremonies. Budget
Review. Physical Facilities, and
Honors. On one University Senate
committee, the Committee on
Faculty Tenure, Freedom, and
Responsibility, a student
membership of two, or 17 per cent
is proposed. The small student
membership is determined by the
importance of the committee in
regard to faculty rights. The
student voice is required on the
committee for the reasons given
earlier, specifically those relating
to the students' unique opportunity
to observe the performance of a
faculty member as a teacher. There
are other committees on which a
small percentage or perhaps even
no student membership is
proposed. Committees such as the
Committee on Faculty Benefits,
Committee on Patents, and the
Committee on Research might
have two "token" students in
recognition of the prerogative of
faculty rights, but also in keeping
in mind the need for student
participation in faculty affairs just
as faculty participate in student
affairs.
In the University Senate itself, it is
proposed that student membership
be increased from the present four
to 20. This large increase is
dictated by the need for
representativeness and for
effectiveness. The system that
would be established for electing
students to the University Senate
would be a proportional
representation system operating
within the Student Senate. Based
on the number of fulltime students,
just as faculty are elected based on
fulltime faculty, the proportional
representation system would place
the emphasis on the college or
division, rather than the Student
Senate at-large. The Student
Senate would be an important
element in the selection process,
but the concept of the Student
Senate being the students' only
legitimate spokesman would be
dispensed with by putting the basis
of power back in the separate
colleges. The Student Senate
would then serve to bring the
colleges together, but not to usurp
their positions. The basis for the
college's representation would be:
one to 500 fulltime students—one
representative; 501-1500 fulltime
students—two representatives:
1501-2500 fulltime students—three
representatives. This would
produce 16 representatives. In
addition the Student Senate will
elect three members of the Student
Senate Executive Cabinet to serve
on the University Senate. (The
Executive Cabinet is the four
officers of the Senate plus the
Chairmen of CACTUS and the
University Center Programming
Board.) The Student Senate will
also elect one member of the
Student Senate Coordination
Board to serve on the University
Senate. (The Coordination Board is
made up of the chairmen of the
seven Student Senate standing
committees). The total number
elected to serve would then be 20.
In comparison, there are 30 faculty
members on the University Senate,
11 deans, and three University
administrative officers. With the
addition of 20 students the total
Senate membership would become
64, giving students just over 30 per
cent of the membership. This is in
line with the concept of committee
membership that would fluctuate
from 25 per cent to 40 per cent.
Ten of the persons elected to serve
on the University Senate would
also serve on the University Senate
Committee on Student Affairs. The
reason for this is the fact that a
great percentage of the legislation
that comes from the Student
Senate must go to the Student
Affairs Committee and thence to
the University Senate. Hopefully
this outmoded method of dealing
with student decisions will be
discarded in favor of letting
student decisions be made by
students or by the appropriate
University official. By effecting
such a change in policy, the
Student Affairs Comniittee would
not spend the better part of a year
debating a matter such as
dormitory visitation hours, which
then had to go to the University
Senate, and then to the Board of
Admmistrators. The four persons
elected from the Executive Cabinet
and the Coordination Board to
serve on the University Senate
would automatically serve on the
Student Affairs Committee as
would six of the 16 other University
Senators. The six would be elected
by the Student Senate after the
elections for positions in the
University Senate had taken place.
The elections for the University
Senate might also take place in the
Student Senate, but only among
the senators from a respective
college rather than the Senate at-large.
The other possibility is that
when each college holds its
elections for the Student Senate a
provision be made to determine the
senators for the University Senate
at the same time.
Without question this proposal
constitutes a radical change in the
form of University governance
employed at Tulane. Without a
need for constitutional change,
though, an effective operating
community government can be
installed to take the place of a
government that approaches the
concept of community, but falls
woefully short. The improved
communications made possible by
including students in decision-making
has shown its worth this
year. To stop the process now
would have negative effects in the
very near future. What needs to be
done is to go forward with the
community government concept
and install it at Tulane. The
benefits of showing such a
confidence in the abilities of the
student body would certainly be
shown in increased responsibility
on the part of students. When
students know the stakes at hand
and are allowed to carry their
share of the load, their perspective
of the institution and its problems
changes, and a total community
effort to improve the quality of
institution can ensue with much
fewer obstacles to overcome than
if students are cast in the role of
second class citizens not eligible
for full citizenship such as now
exists at Tulane.
/discovery
and
diffusion/
It usually starts In Preservation Hall,
one door away from Pat O'briens. In
many cases, the initial jazz encounter
occurs during the same week that a
student first arrives in New Orleans. But
when and where the student finds or
pursues the music during his years in
New Orleans and at Tulane will depend
on his own curiosity, on luck, and often
on the development of his own interest
and understanding of the musical form
and its traditions . .
... In the city, the situations where
the music is played and the reasons
for playing it will vary, A brass band
will turn out for a convention, a festival,
a funeral, or to welcome the Delta
Queen at dockside (for what was to
have been her last visit to New Orleans.
A recent federal dispensation, however,
has allowed the riverboat to continue
its service along the Mississippi). The
New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Fes-tival,
held each spring, will bring out
the silver-haired Bill Russell, the former
curator of the Museum of New Orleans
PAGE 58 /
Jazz, to entertain in Congo Square The
same festival will also feature a concert
aboard another riverboat with the most
articulate drummers in New Orleans.
Lovig Barbarin . . .
. . . and perhaps the smoothest clarine-tists
in the person of Pete Fountain.
Emcee for the evening, a Georgian
named Allen . . Back in Congo
Square, one can find the unique Bongo
Joe, switching his role to piano, while
Dizzy Gillespie assists on the oil drum
Further, one will meet a man named
Fats", with a derby & a sash that's
labeled "Olympia."
/ PAGE 59
... On the Tulane Campus, variety
is again the password. On the right
night, one can catch an earful of Ger-man
Jazz in der Rathskellar. or the "big
band" sound of Lee Hoppes Tulane
Stage Band. But live performances
don't have to be limited to a stage;
Somehow, WTUL managed to get Dizzy
Gillespie into their studio for a live in-terview
in April. Recorded interviews
and other historical data can be found
in the Jazz Archive on the fourth floor
of the Howard-Tilton Library. There,
one will again meet Richard Allen, who
serves as the curator for the archive.
But to reach a greater awareness of
the entire jazz theatre in New Orleans.
try sitting in on the Music department
course. "The History of Jazz." Taught
by John Joyce, the class (and its two
sections) have been averaging over 70
students in each section; although the
course has many complexities, the
main result which Joyce strives for is
an awareness of musical "perception
. . Perhaps the best way to under-stand
the New Orleans jazz tradition is
to meet and talk with a member of one
of the brass bands (usually a member
who is over 55 or 60 years old). Cur-rently,
the man to see on the Tulane
campus is Matthew "Fats" Houston, an
employee for the Physical Plant since
1946. The same "Fats" Houston leads
almost every major jazz parade or fu-neral
as the Grand Marshal for the
Olympia and Eureka brass bands.
"Fats" can recall the jazz rage back
in the "horse and carriage" period, but
began to get involved in jazz groups
in the mid-forties:
"I began to organize my band at the
end of World War II. I played from one
group to another until I organized my
own band. I played with Louis Dumaine,
and after he died. I organized the group
that was left into Matthew Fats' Hous-ton's
Dixieland Jazz Band. I played up
here in the University vicinity, at the
different fraternities, the SAE. the ATO.
the Kappa Sigma. I played Dixieland
Jazz until rock and roll broke out. When
that happened, every job that I bid on,
they would tell me, I can get two rock
/ PAGE 61
I
I
PAGE 62 /
and roll bands for the price that you
want, Fats' I said, Well, you can get
the rock and roll!' So that's when I took
my drums and put them up in my living
room, on the side. They're still stored
there.
After that, I started to grand marshal.
I grand marshalled with the Eureka. We
buried Picou first, then Papa Celestin
died. (Papa Celistan had the biggest
funeral, then Picou had the next big-gest
funeral that I grand marshalled
with the Eureka.) Then Bill Matthews
died—he was one of the Eureka. Then
the trombone player died. He was an-other
one of the original Eurekas. And
we buried Kid Clayton. Finally, so many
died out—there were only one or two
left. There was Percy Humphery, he
was the leader. He would sometimes
borrow some of the men from the
Olympia, and would make up a band.
He would bring them together for a
special show or occasion. But after
that, I joined the Olympia myself, and
on up to now, I'm still with the Olympia
. . . Jazz is still part of my life, and
I love it. I will love it until I die. I want
to be put away with the next biggest
funeral that we have in New Orleans.
The last big one was with Cap'n Handy.
We buried him in Pass Christian. Be-tween
seven and nine thousand people
participated in that parade . . .
. . . The jazz funeral means the old
tradition that if you pass, you want to
be waked. At the church we march out
with a dirge, and if the cemetery's
close, we'll march on for a few blocks
with a dirge, then we'll turn the proces-sion
loose, and let it go When they get
about three blocks out of sight, that's
when they start the rejoicing.
With a boom, boom, boom, they start
playing 'When the Saints Go Marching
In. The old folks still feel the same way
about jazz but the young-folks they go
for the new feelings in their rock and
roll and modern jazz . . .
... My whole life, I've been playing
jazz. I still love jazz. I expect to die.
and want to be buried with a traditional
jazz funeral ..."
Matt Anderson
Engineering '71
/ PAGE 63
DORMS
^#
PAGE 64 /
Nearly half the dormitory residents in men's
housing are freshmen. The other residents live on
campus because it is more convenient and possibly
more financially reasonable. This year all men
above the freshman level were given the option of
living off-campus. Because many already "lived" in
fraternity houses and elsewhere off-campus, and
because off-campus housing is generally scarce and
expensive, there was no giant exodus. Men's housing
was operated at capacity level all year.
Dormitory residents who complain about their housing
are usually freshmen. "Its a drag.' The visitation hours,
which prescribe times during which women can visit in
the rooms, have been restricted to Friday. Saturday, and
Sunday evenings from noon until 2 a.m. This has been
the biggest frustration of the residents. To some extent
/ P.4GE 65
these frustrations will be removed when more liberal
hours and weekday privileges are put in effect.
Other "hassles" in dormitory living include excessive
noise and dope. For the most part noise levels are
moderate, and students are able to study in their rooms.
Residents seem fully capable of putting pressure on the
low noise level deviant and there are few problems.
Dope is another bag of its own. Generally speaking,
men have not smoked in the dorms. After the early fall
Conduct Committee cases resulting in stiff fines and
probation, there was little discernable activity in the
rooms. Besides, watching the stars on the University
Center quadrangle while turning on appears to make
people much happier. The dorm room is too confining
and an adviser might get nasty. Rumor has it that there is
one hall in Monroe where it's all a different story. . . .
Campus living can be as good, or as bad, as the
residents want to make it. The mechanism and financing
are available for a variety of social events. Advisers,
being students themselves, generally are aware of
student problems. They can be especially helpful to the
freshman, not so much as an answer man, but more as a
"where-you-can-find-out" man.
If a student lives in a dorm because that is what he wants
it is not unpleasant. If one lives on campus because he
has to live on campus, there results a frustrated resident.
Frustrated residents only frustrate other residents. There
are more than enough frustrations as a student, and
dormitory living should not add to the list.
—Richard Bretz
G.B.A. 72
PAGE 66 /
/ PACE 67
"The residence halls of Newcomb College continue to be a part of the
organizational structure of the College. . . . Regulations for the Newcomb
residence hall . . . are matters of special concern of the
College. . . . The Senate Committee on Student Affairs may inquire and
recommend to the Senate concerning policies in student life matters
throughout the University; consideration of any recommendation affecting
Newcomb College should include recognition of the concern and structure
that exists for these matters within the College."
University Senate Resolution
March, 1971
PAGE 68 /
Newcomb dormitory regulations
change, but not with the times.
Since the members of the Class of
1971 passed the compulsory
examination on the rules and
regulations of resident student in
the fall of 1967. many of the
restrictions with which the
examination was concerned have
been eliminated, but the principle
upon which the rules—and the
tests—are based, continue
unchanged. According to the
constitution of the Resident
Government Association, one of
the purposes of the restrictions is
the "regulation of social activities
in order to protect the welfare of
each student and to obtain
development of individual honor
and the best result in scholarship."
The Newcomb woman must be
looked after.
The changes, as listed, sound very
impressive. Instead of the weekday
1 a.m. curfew, upperclassmen now
have self-regulated hours, and
most own keys to their dormitories.
They are no longer required to sign
in and out every time they wish to
leave the dorms after 8 o'clock.
Freshmen curfews have been set
back two hours, so that on
weekdays, they may return at 1
o'clock instead of having to check
in at 1 1 p.m. Men are allowed into
the women's rooms on week-ends,
within the hour limits set by the
college.
Yet it becomes necessary to ask
why the rules are there in the first
place. They are not needed.
Newcomb women are mature
individuals. By the time they enter
the University, their personalities
are basically developed, and their
character already formed. If their
interests in Newcomb are not
academic, no rules will ever
change that. And if they intend to
make their years in the college a
fulfilling intellectual experience,
they will know how to find the
resources needed for this without
having to be directed to them.
/ P.VGE 69
PAGE 70 /
There has been, in fact, no
noticeable change in the individual
honor or the academic output of
Newcomb students since the
relaxation of the dormitory
regulations. The Newcomb
administration, in allowing the
reforms, showed confidence in the
women's maturity and
responsibility, and have found out
that their confidence was not
misplaced. But there are still rules,
too many rules, which prove only
that the administration's trust is
only partial. And the administrators
have made it clear that new
changes are not likely to occur in
the next two years.
If the need is felt for social as well
as academic guidance for
Newcomb students, especially
freshmen, then the administration
should look to the dormitory
adviser program, not to dormitory
regulations, as a positive way of
providing it. If a student has
problems, she will not find the
solution for them in a set of rules,
but in a set of well-trained,
capable, responsible individuals
willing to respond to their needs.
The adviser system, in the past
year, has been reworked to do just
that. The rules, as they stand, are
superfluous and, for the most part.
they are resented.
Ironically, some of what may be
considered the strictest regulations
imposed upon the women are
almost impossible to enforce
efficiently. It takes little skill to
devise methods of entering and
leaving the dormitories without
ever needing to sign in or out. The
sign out sheets, on the other hand,
help no one by stating that the
student is "in town " or "on
campus." and create only even
more useless paper work.
Often the rules are confusing.
Freshmen are allowed two key
nights a week, a regulation which
has led the house mothers often to
wonder whether a particular
Sunday key night should be
counted with those of the week the
Sunday ended, during which the
student took no key nights, or with
those of the week which the
Sunday began, in which the
student took two. Should the
student be punished with countless
calldowns for taking an illegal
keynight. or congratulated for
keeping her numbers straight? Or,
to ease the complex situation,
should Sundays be made
independent entities and no part of
the week at all?
The time is overdue for
reevaluation and redefinition.
Newcomb College is not now what
it was five or even two years ago. It
is educating a new breed of
students who do not particularly
want to think of Newcomb as one
of the "Seven Sisters of the South."
They wish the emphasis to be
placed on student-faculty-administration
communication, not
condescention.
Slowly, the past years have seen
the parental walls of the Newcomb
fortresses tumble. Like all solidly
built medieval institutions,
however, the structure is not easy
to destroy. Before reconstruction
can begin. Newcomb students, it
seems, will have to wait until
erosion overcomes the remaining
walls.
—Ileana Oroza
Newcomb 71
for: fiirfh control infcrn.afiC
Or -fo Kau* Ol prtqnancu -k
- Qo "h) Dr. SeasTrunck;^ <m
rt^c second, floor' of -H^t
f4«CLlt-h Center' — ihe.
'
Counceii'>^Ci J FSyCh.alr.t
Seciion ^-- call eni. 2SI
Onrt ask for hin] ^ fJoT go +* ih€ reaular
nwdtcaL c/paK .'
^auLtl\i'\, OMcL discuss Jui.
'
"V
I
'.'*
'
/ PAGE 71
f TlIENEWOKLEAI«SCatOiJI>,in.iMi»^ MI^IXON
f ''VICTIMS ©F DUTViA-^"-"^"")
I iMVIL II Ihrwifh :». >l«l)ll:i rxrrpt Mnmlny* Wnliit-Mli»; mrulo OiUI RM.
it terwllTh|i*In-*i»V«.i«iurT<mSl.l%««'»HT«>rlrr«..V^«rt™i»«
I adndHdwdXJe a<adnuji«I.IHt rmrmulowiXK>'«7IX.IX«Mi-l«MIKM.
Like most major universities in the United States,
Tulane lias had its share of campus unrest. Unlil<e
other campuses, however, Tulane has yet to witness
bloodshed or over-reaction by campus or municipal
authorities. The man responsible for keeping the
peace on the Tulane campus. Director of Security
Robert Scruton, has won the admiration of students,
the respect of most faculty members (in itself, no
mean accomplishment), and consideration of his
viewpoint by the University administration.
The Colonel, as he is called, is a study in complexity.
He's a retired army officer who rose from the ranks;
he's an accomplished tennis player; he won a
shipboard costume contest by dressing as Tiny Tim;
he's a man with a theatrical sense of timing that can
provide good copy for any campus newspaper
reporter.
Scruton's a difficult man to work for. Many officers
have quit the force in disagreement with the Colonel
or his policies. Students faced with multiple traffic
offences get a taste of his "sting 'em a little"
policy—reducing the fine so that it still hurts, but it
does not bankrupt the student for the rest of the
semester. The vast majority of Tulane students, when
involved in a security matter, come away impressed
by the fairness and helpfulness of the security
department.
PAGE 72 /
From Tulane's first anti-ROTC demonstrations
staged by the theatre department, to the
Dubinsky—ROTC demonstrations to the birth of the
Tulane Liberation Front and the ROTC barracks fire
in the spring of 1970, Scruton has competantly and
efficiently handled the situation without recourse to
excessive force. Scruton's calmness and good sense
are credited by many with saving the day during the
T.L.F. occupation of the University Center. He was
the one voice of moderation who would not close the
U.C. and evict the demonstrators.
Observing the Colonel is a study of a man under
pressure. The nature of his job subjects him to
pressures from faculty, staff, students,
administration, alumni, and the community. As such,
he is perpetually out on a limb. Only his flexible
attitude and uncanny sense of what each special
interest group will tolerate has kept Scruton's
position reasonably secure. When asked what he
would like to be remembered for after he leaves
Tulane, Scruton replies: "well, I think the biggest
accomplishment would be simply having been able
to survive in this job with all the pressures on me."
-Bill Klinkenstein
G.B.A. '71
SCRUTON ON TULANE STUDENTS: "Tulane students are much smarter, less
docile, they want to know why and wherefore, far more curious . . . they don't
like a lot of bullshit and crap thrown at them.'
SCRUTON ON THE SECURITY DIVISION:". . . a force of ten or twelve
seasoned officers can serve the University well. The word "seasoned" bears repe-tition.
Seasoned." (Tulane Self-Study. 1967-1968)
SCRUTON ON SCRUTON: "Fortunately. 1 can see the funny side of everything,
no matter how serious a situation can be. A sense of humor is a saving grace to
keep you going in this job. . . . As long as I'm here (and this is a natural thmg)
theforce will represent what I want it to be. . . . A great part of my life was
devoted to dealing with young people—not young students, but young soldiers—
basically they're not much different. They can spot a phoney at a thousand
yards. . . . I've always said, that when I do quit, its going to be under the most
favorable conditions when things are going smoothly and everything is runnmg
right so I can turn over a going organization to my successor."
/ PACE 73
THE GOMPLEAT
. . . at Tulane, a campus officer needs to be
competent in 17 different skills. He must be prepared
to exercise his competence at any time, so varied are
the situations he must contend with.
He must be taught enough practical law so that he
does not ensnarl the university in a legal action
because of his ignorance. He must be taught the
rights of others in police procedure.
He must be taught how to handle a wild drunk or a
deranged person, male or female. Such techniques
are not learned overnight. Neither are the special
ways of dealing with teenage deliquents.
He must be shown how to put out a fire, and when
to call the fire department, and what to do when the
engines arrive, and how to deal with toxic smokes
generated by fires.
He must know about drugs and narcotics, the
stimulants and the depressants—enough so that he
can recognize abnormal behavior and the reason for
it.
He must know how to help an injured person, what to
do for that person and where to take him.
He must be taught how to write a proper parking
ticket and a speeding ticket. And he must be shown
how to investigate an accident.
He must be shown how to write a proper report,
factual and objective, why reports are important and
why they should be reasonably literate.
He must be taught to understand the nature of young
people, young students, and why some are perhaps
not as orderly as they should be. He must be trained
to be neither over-harsh nor over-easy in dealing
with their pranks and high jinks. He must be taught
to understand that matters are not always black or
white but often are "gray" and hard to define. It must
be explained to him that some persons make a
practice of baiting or insulting police, and that this is-aimed
not so much at the officer as a person, but at
the symbol of law and order in general.
He must be taught courtesy—a firm politeness under
any and all conditions. He must be shown that an
officer who descends to rudeness and brutality even
in dealing with human trash is a poor officer and a
liability to his unit.
He must be trained to deal witl;i sexual deviates, to
know that often such people are less criminal that
"sick" in mind. He must be shown about fingerprints,
how to lift them from evidence and transfer them to
photographs or tape for comparative purposes. He
must be taught the techniques of elementary
investigation and interrogation, and the rights of
persons undergoing questioning. He itiust be taught
how to operate the high-speed camera equipment
used to make identification cards, and he must know
how to make background checks of persons seeking
employment with the University.
He must be taught how to use and fire his gun, that
an officer may use his gun only to save his life or that
of another, beyond reasonable doubt in a Court of
Law.
He must study the Division Policy Manual and the
University Traffic Regulations, and he must know
these documents as he would the alphabet and the
multiplication tables. He must be shown how the
university is organized and the names and functions
of its principal officals. It must be explained to him
that his unit is but a part of a complex organization
and that its primary purpose, aside from the
numerous chores and services assigned to it, is the
protection of property and people.
Finally, the officer must be periodically examined to
determine his proficiency and to aid in the decision
whether he should be discharged or retained and
given recognition in the form of a pay raise or
promotion in rank
—Robert A. Scruton
Tulane University Self-Study,
1967-1968
PAGE 74 /
/ PACE 73
*" ""- "'i-,. 'ci.'^/,, %. % 'Jj; Si. .# :«^ ^ .a"- .<o -.o'^
jaykaysergeofgekee-K/o,^^^ '°«°c<,:n,p^^
'^iiyk
••"Pp* "'"'We
o*"^'
«ti^"'
*v^^
^e^^^t..^
-'*^:^cxx:e^^o^^^^s^^...^ .„^<^=^^^^
baAarahickingbotlomandyWcldmanmarg,e,,„„^^ "'"ncferdhen ™*;;'--''Pla„ja„„;^PW 4=«'SBa«<n8««''-''"'"""""'"'^'='"J^"^l"'ea2leymeryibccker
guerardpgi
marciagumpe
!!;:!!^^^'".'e;si-fi-"::r:S^-::e>- riosM'
griccca,hygnrr,srredgrubisswaltB™ndyrongubac4"f„7,"';7'^A'rsc/,^,";i^^^^^^^^^
, ^Us.abemsuomannebeu'
„i.Ubro«"''-bl,ckma„cvabl,ck™„,,,,„,bookoscli.abe'hboycrfeL«envana„nallern,,c
iclalanbeychokcharlouerbeycr
biW8«
„„eUssabtammeT>a. lollendebbiedmi
I
u,,r,nop^rpThver';bcnnvai;ame!anncaredojohnccarcymarchandersonjoanarboiiraniiearnoldbotsiaro(isi>iirayatiaiiasiobetsybatdridgeshei!abaloIstevebancrofI
lencbuchallercourtneyburgesanaraouniigtsL'-iLrjvi j
-
{
•
i^i^ \
^^ 4
'CACTUS: A Thorn m the Side of Indifference.
Although many of us cringe today when we hear this rather
dated slogan, it is still a valid description of what CACTUS
does and what CACTUS hopes to do in the future. Over the
past few years the thorns may have changed direction, and
the sides may not be the same ones as before, but the
premise behind CACTUS still exists unchanged: that a
college education cannot and must not be limited to a
classroom—an awareness of ones environment and
participation in it is necessary for an education and the
understanding and betterment of one's world.
It is for this reason thatCACTUS exists: to provide students
with opportunities to learn about their surroundings while
applying their knowledge to help the community, be it city,
campus, or both.
'^t*'.-L:^i:>» ^^:c5j^t^i^^^^^•
Although CACTUS has had programs
operating in the New Orleans community for
many years, a campus direction is new for
the organization. It was decided over a year
ago that if a group is to be an effective lini<
between the campus and the community then
it must be a viable force on campus as well.
For this reason, Campus Projects was
established to investigate the opportunities
for CACTUS involvement on campus, and to
develop programs of on-campus activity. As
an initial task. Campus Projects has
undertaken a comprehensive study of student
attitudes at Tulane. The results of this
research will be available to anyone, and it
will enable CACTUS to better evaluate the
desires and needs of our students, leading to
the development of campus programs.
In addition. CACTUS, in co;>f5eration with
the Sub-Committee on IVlmority Employmen
is preparing a booklet fo(r distribution to all
wage and staff employees at the University.
This booklet will contain
obtaining such commun
aid. health care, and farr
information on
ty resources as legal
ily assistance.
In the community as we as on campus
CACTUS is expanding to provide types of
involvement different from those that have
been offered in the past. This year CACTUS
was allowed direct input into a citizen's
planning group when it was given a seat on
the Regional Planning Forum. This year a
major part of the Forum's activities revolved
around the controversial fvlississippi River
bridge crossings. Hopefully, opportunities for
direct student participation in decision-making
bodies in the community will increase
in the future. In another new type of
involvement for the organization. CACTUS
worked with Tulane law students in the
setting up and operation of the Legal Referral
Service of the Mardi Gras Coalition.
providing legal assistance to hundreds of
people during the holiday period. In addition.
Volunteer Clearinghouse, a new CACTUS
program, is providing students to fill
specialized volunteer positions throughout
the city.
These are but a few of the many new
directions that CACTUS has explored and
must continue to explore in the future. The
possibilities for different types of student
involvement and input into the community
and campus are great.
Recently CACTUS has been emphasizing its new
directions. These are, of course, important to the
organization, equally important are the regular
programs in which a majority of the CACTUS
members participate. These projects have proven to
be worthwhile for both the Tulane students as well as
the recipients of the aid, and are continued because
they can effectively fill needs. Project Opportunity,
CACTUS' first program, graduated its first group of
high school seniors last year. 32 of the 33 seniors
currently attend college, and these seniors were able
to generate $45,000 in first year financial aid.
Project DARE, expanded this year to include two
schools, McDonogh 15 in the French Quarter as well
as Henderson Dunn in the Desire Area, is beneficial
to and enjoyed by the children, and parents and
school officials believe it is a great experience.
CACTUS volunteers to Kingsley House have
provided tutorial and recreational services needed
by this settlement house in the Irish Channel.
In CACTUS' earliest days, many people expected
infant mortality to strike the organization at any time.
However, during the early stages of the group, there
were enough people dedicated to the CACTUS
concept to see that this potential problem was
overcome. Since then, involvement in CACTUS has
grown at a rate to insure its continuance. But this has
caused many problems to arise in the organization.
Solutions to very mechanical problems, such as
maintaining good volunteer records, are easy to
implement; the most difficult problems arise in the
fact that CACTUS programming involves
interpersonal relationships, where motivational
factors, expectations, dedication, and personality
differences all come into play. Progress has been
made in being able to employ these factors to the
benefit of the organization, but often a conflict arises.
This is the organization problem to which CACTUS
must continue to direct itself, in order to be as
effective as it possibly can.
The time of hard decisions is not over for CACTUS.
CACTUS must continue to be self-critical to work for
better programs and be searching for new ideas
which meet needs of the campus or community, and
fit student interests. By its very nature, CACTUS must
continually change in order to achieve its goals. In
ten years CACTUS may still be using "The Thorn in
the Side of Indifference" as its slogan, but the thorns
and the sides will be different—if they weren't,
CACTUS would not exist.
—John Carey
A&S'71
PAGE 82 /
NE score and two years ago, I played Doctor-Dan-the-Band-age-
Man and decided, in a moment of ridiculous grandiosity,
that I wanted to be a physician.
Two years later, I underwent some interviews that were
pregnant with foreshadowing. A favorite question at these
"talks" was always why I wanted to be a doctor. At the time,
the answer that that's what my daddy did seemed quite adequate. Another
point which appeared to impress my judges was that I had instigated
original research into Little Golden Books, built my own log cabins, and
even experimented with handwriting.
Needless to say, (pardon the pretention) I was easily accepted that year to
the P.S. 38 Queens Kindergarten (it may be that the letter of Rec. from the
Chief of Nursery School helped a little), and began the arduous graded
educational journey culminating with, as I Freudianly slipped often in later
years, med stool.
I turned to find my hand below my waist and the surgical scrub nurse yelling
at me to quickly divest, depressurize, and desist the "Field," or something. I
informed her that I was an expert puzzle-fixer. She asked (exclaimed!)
"Where'd YOU go t' skewl, bo-eh? '
I answered proudly, "P.S. 38." Later,
the surgeon supported my ego by reassuring me that he felt I had the hands
of a psychiatrist.
I began to perceive that time had not been at all quantized, for the years of
primary, secondary, tertiary, and the first three years of quaternary amentia
had obiously congealed and clotted in my mind. Only scattered were debris
of a spelling bee, swim meet, high school play, physics instructor vague
football games, a dismembered corpse in the lab, == ==>- -h for the obev
snoring in boredom of the dog, grey-yellow nights > and neck-a
midnight mornings with needles, noise and nu
in a fetid fecal-odored ward, writing and achii..
enduring professors who didn't believe in psychiatry or abortions.
Newcomb girls who didn't believe in God or fellatio.
Of a sudden, it is all interesting cocktail clack t, whatever your
favorite metaphor, is gone, the long proverbia eryone always talked
about lies more in the crevasse that follows e. ^tep. The future may
not be quantized, eith ' "cially the next fou; .l' icn years, which I will
spend in further train n the everpresent. non-belabored hope that I
am not squandering the best years of my life in preparation for the worst.
/ PAGE 83
HISTORY NIGHTMARE¥:
\
Doctor: Hello there. What's the trouble?
Patient: That's for you to find out, ain't it, Doc
Doc: Yes. Uh-huh. What I mean is, how you feelin'?
Doc: Where?
Pt: All over.
Doc: Any specific pain?
Hi; uri no. I jusi nun irom my head to my toes.
PAGE 84 /
Doc: Can you describe the pain?
Doc: How long have you been feeling this way?
Doc: What I mean is, how long have you had this pain?
Pt: Oh, I'd say since about the time when I got sick.
Doc: And when was that?
Pi. Auoui the same tune as rny sistei J.
Doc: Well, how old is the child now?
Pt: Poorthinci died in childbir
Doc: OK. Let's try another approach—Are there any members of your
family who are or have been sick with this type of thing?
: .. _ - Liy Miuvv. naveii l i^en none ui uiein since i
Doc: Have you ever been in this hospital before?
3 about four years old.
Doc: Why was that?
arxc^o, yuu cApect me to reriici, c.
Doc: Excuse me a moment.
Pt: What's the trouble?
Doc: I have a headache.
.. .-^..^ ..^.^ y^-^ oeen feelin' this way?
'Written in Sophomore year, while on the wards
awaiting instructor the first day of Physical
Diagnosis. We were to begin that day to apply the
history-taking method we had been taught to real
people.
ft
Q
/ PACE 8.5
ll
LOVE
The chimera fibrillates
On a filionyx agar
And flaunts its papillary nebulae
At the mediastinal flaw.
The arytenoid emanates
A deep pleural spasm:
A cataplectic murmur
From philiogenic entombment.
As anarthria bows
To pterygoid transmutation
Of the ablated embolus,
The sceptre speaks.
10/30/67
GOODBYE, ZEAL.
When digitalis left me cold,
I tried an hour of Donne;
And realized, thus, anon, behold:
That school just is not fun.
As basic sciences are pedantic
and bore for factuality,
So the humanities crawl in semantic
Paradox and generality.
I thought—To transcend Medicine! —The world of live or die . . .
In novel class, I found but Sin,
Reality, and Why.
Oh sad, that after years to train
Through studies long and grueling,
To come to terms with one's own brain
That's learned to loathe all schooling.
4/4/69
REFLECTIONS ON A 1-DAY VACATION.
Fastly free
fixed at anonymity
in the tornado of time
Ecstatically alea
with unit homonymity
and indulgence of prime
Diseased of delight
fever of nothingness
convulsant with relief
Triumphantly trite
afloat in the meaningless
devoid of belief
One pillow-case-calm night;
then back to parading
the plague of ambition
In the prescribed rite
of Thirst mascarading
with false deglutition.
1/70
PAGE 86 /
SUTURING LEON
Drugged and lacerated
Bundled like a bunny
in a straight-jacket of stupor
and silent pain
he sleeps.
O Mother,
thou wouldst leave little bunting for
an obscene phone call
Leave him to the merciless guilt-laden hands
of the amateur seamster
equipped with hypo and masked with gown.
In a tile torture cubicle
seeming punishment
for defending Quijote
this chamber of screams
incongruity intrinsic
poverty prolific
ignorance staple
the eye meticulously mended
the Selvage rebeckons
needle-tracks
drunken-auto gash
stab to the stomach
hatchet to the head
bullet to the groin
O, Mother
for which atrocity
in his personal melodramic
will he next call.
Emergency Room,
Charity, 5/19/70
/ PAGE 87
^<ing back
It is a year to know loneliness: to feel it envelope
you in the chill romance of more light rains than you
thought possible, or to recognize it through the
incomparable joy of meeting up with a friend and
the two of you setting off to visit cities you may still
feel you had no right to see: for the cities were
there long before you and will not change with your
coming, and there is something profane in your
American newness and glitter which you wish you
could shake, leave hidden in an Austrian snow or
up in the room in your pension.
But then again, the cities are too grand to be
harried by your small vulgarity.
-And, strangely enough, it is a year to feel the
surprise in yourself when you look at the stone
turned into a man by a mere man, and a cathedral.
god, the cathedrals, and a painting, and you fight
the tears and the awe in admitting that there had to
be something somewhere, some glorious
meaning—maybe in the artists themselves, or maybe
they knew what it was. and maybe you're closer to it
now for being closer to them. You do know, and
you feel yourself becoming so very much greater
and smaller as you realize, and your interests
increase five fold and your emotions ten.
And then, if you're lucky and if you're willing, and
we all were, you have become a part of it all and
you can see the difference between you and the
visitors, and you're proud and humble, and
independent, and so much older, and some of It
even remains through the beating you take in
coming home.
—Rick Drake, A & S '71
University of Hamburg
1969-1970
I
poem written in paris caf^
sitting in a cafe
rue Dante
parispicturesque
the thing
to do
you know
writing a poem
bitchy mood
couldbeanywhere
sitting alone in pariscafelife
writing a poem
the thing
you know
to do
doing nothing
only wasting paperthoughts
sitting alone in pariscafelife
writing a poem about:
writing a poem
you know
the thing
to do
cafe select, blvd. montparnasse
sipping days
hours
blinks
afternoon poured by sighing
into mist of hot wine thoughts
eyeing through cafe-window passing
in and out of cafe-world
to streetworld
some never voyaged near our land
we scanned the universe
of us
touching very little
maybe even then too much
of what never has an answer
we did not save the world
nor try to save ourselves
the trouble
of asking the question
only our empty wineglasses know
PAGE 90 /
champselyseeseyes
champselyseeseyeslife peopling through eyemind
parisdrunk on peoplesights impressions
heavy air-incensed jasminemist
greenjade-screened city
mystery-clung spectred lovestoned city
walking down champselysees
fractionglimpsed eyes of one whom i loved splitsecondly
rushdistance crowdfaced hypnotized
unspeakable
ohiloveyou champselyseeseyes
forever
I'll search everywhere for your holygraillove
craning through street-throngs metrobodies
until i find you
or
something approximate
la pubeile
below
boul' miche street
so winterbarren yesterday
is today
springreened of monet tints
leafbrushed thickly
on canvasbarked branches
splotched yellow sometimes
blossoms
dogs shit on sidewalks
for unwary pedestrians
bereted frenchmen pee in pissoirs
one can whiff it in the parisair
perfumed with channel or st. laurent
and from my windowseat
i see irontip of eiffel tower
peek above parisgray rooftops
as i spysecretly on sunset pinktinge
a whitebent man with
red-and-green-plaid sack
crookedly rumages in garbage can
across the street
for something
he doesn't find
so leaves
without
putting back the lid
-Nancy Harris. Newcomb 71
Sorbonne, 1969-1970
/ PAGE 91
I spent my first two years at Newcomb learning to be a clocl<-
watcher. Having to cram five courses into 960 minutes of my
working day, my life ran on a schedule so that not one
productive moment would be lost. With such efficiency. I
became what was demanded of me, an academic machine of
mass production. Not until my Junior year abroad in England
did I bury my clocks and discover people.
"Man should not live by the clock alone." This is perhaps
the most valuable lesson I learned from the English. Time
became dependant not on the passing of minutes, but on the
experiences that occurred within those minutes,
experiences that transcended the purely academic sphere
and involved "living in the moment with people."
Such experiences were possible in an educational
environment that placed more emphasis on independant
studies than required assignments, more emphasis on
creative thinking than memory skills; a system where
pressure is an American word. I do not mean to idealize the
English system, for in several areas it is weak. But I do think
the confidence given to the student to create his own
learning schedule promotes a much healthier attitude
towards time.
The British students seemed to place as much importance
on hours spent in discussion during coffee breaks as on
hours spent in the isolation of books and the library. As a
consequence, the learning experience became not a mere
compartment of one's life, buta total activity. Returning to
New Orleans. I can feel myself being caught up again in the
clockwork machinery. One hopeful note is that the clocks in
the library are never on time.
—Nora Riley, Newcomb '71
University of East Anglia.
1969-1970
HI-PAGE
92 /
Each returning Junior Year Abroad student returns to
Tulane his senior year with his own set of memorabilia.
Each underwent a separate and unique experience,
and I can only talk about how living abroad affected me
personally.
First of all. you notice the differences in the
educational system. The British system encourages
much more initiative on the part of the student. He is
not constantly deluged with bi-weekly quizzes or mid-terms
in each subject. Indeed, many students in the
liberal arts, li