The Rice Thresher (Houston, Tex.), Vol. 37, No. 24, Ed. 1 Thursday, April 6, 1950 Page: 2 of 4
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THBU THRESHER
The Laughing Maniac . . . Words & Nothing But Chip,Chip, Chip
by Emmett McGecvcr
Last week, on page three, The Thresher ran a story about the
University of Texas. If your Thresher isn't already burned, go get
it and read that story. It is important, because it's about free speech.
Despite a lot of legal technicalities and stuff, the whole thing
boils down to the fact that a minority of students is trying to deprive
the whole student body of the right of free expression of opinion.
As one who dearly likes to talk, I think this is very wrong. A perver-
sion of the machinery of democratic government in order to strangle
the free speech foundation of such a government is a bitter paradox
which reflects severely upon the political character—if there is such
a thing—of the people involved.
The Students of UT were going to vote (just as an opinion)
on whether they would favor the admission of negroes to the Univer-
sity. The arguments pro admission were couched in high-flown
terms, and were based upon a logical extension of democratic philo-
sophy. But they were, I think, more than overbalanced by a single
argument on the other side. The opponents of negro admission worked
from a single premise to build a sound and telling argument. They
took as their premise the fact that the Texas legislature is collectively
stupid. They went on to state that, being collectively stupid, they
would not have an intelligent or even forbearing attitude toward a
student body favoring negro admission. The result of all this is that
if too many people vote YES, the legislature Will quite likely cut
the yearlv appropriation for the University. "We admit that the
legislature is dumb, but we have to live with them; t^ey hold the
money bags."
<3
The argument makes a lot of sense. It would probably con-
vince me, if I had any stake in the deal. But isn't it a shame that
any state should be governed by a body whose attitude would prevent
the people from free expression on non-subversive topics or, for
that matter, on subversive topics.
We are inclined to lack appreciation for the good old Institute.
When you stack it up against U I . however, particularly on the matter
of loyalty oaths, the Institute looks better and better. I'd feel sort of
tunny swearing that I hadn't ever belonged to any commie front
organizations, since they're discovering more and more such groups
every day. It is quite possible that soon we may be all called upon
to testify that the APO really only wanted to put lamp posts on
the campus.
Entered as second class matter. October 17, 1916, at the Post Office,
Houston, Texas, under the act of March 8, 1879.
Subscription Rate $1.00 Per Year
Represented by National Advertising Service, Inc., 420 Madison Ave.. New York City.
Published every Friday of the regular school year except during holiday and
examination periods by the students of the Rice Institute. Editorial and
Advertising offices are in the Fondren Library on the campus.
Editor Emmett McGeever
Business Manager Tom Smith
Assistant Business Manager Ernest Voss
Associate Editor Bill Hobby
News Editor Ruey Boone
Editorial Advisors Bob Mcllhenny, Finis Cowan
Sports "Editor Howard Martin
Assistant Sports Editor Ted Lockhart
Fanfare Editor Patsy Brady
Society Editor Marty Gibson
Make-up Staff Allyce Tinsley and Harold Melnick
Reporters Beverly Brooks, Don Eddy, John Blake-
more, Pat Byrne, Bob Schwartz, Dewey Gonsoulin, Betty Mc-
Geever, Lee Mary Parker, Nina Shannon, Bernice Davis, Julia
Martin, Shirley Arnold, Tim Weakley, Farrell Fulton, Shirley
Armstrong.
Music
By Tim Weakley
One of the greatest drawbacks
in writing a column on music which
is made up entirely of words is my
inability to give you an idea of what
the forthcoming selections will sound
like. If I were telling all this to you
in person, I could fall back on whist-
ling or some such, and try to find
a responsive chord in those of you
who have listened to classical music
but have paid little attention to
titles.
This defect is particularly appar-
ent this week, since the selections
chosen by the symphony for Mon-
day are comparatively obscure, with
one exception. The program is:
Shostakovitch's Fifth Symphony,
two of Liadoff's symphonic poems
"The Enchanted Lake" and "Kiki-
mora," and Borodin's "Polovtsian
Dances."
After the semi-failure of Shosta-
kovitch's opera "Lady Macbeth" and
the Fourth Symphony in quick suc-
cession, he did his daradest to re-
deem himself, by putting his all into
the Fifth. In fact, it is sub-titled (if
a symphony has a title that can be
followed by a sub-title) "A Soviet
Artist's Reply to Just Criticism."
And a good reply it is; you can
hear it up in the music room if you
want a preview.
Borodin's Opera "Prince Igor" was
never finished, although the compos-
er worked on it for seventeen years.
However, the dances taken from it,
and made into a ballet by Diaghi-
leff, are quite popular as concert
pieces, under the title of "Polov-
tsian Dances," with the first Avord
spelled various ways. Hampered by
my inability to sing in print, I can
only assure you that the dances are
pretty familiar to you, if you listen
to the radio at all.
Liadoff, who, as Sigmund Spaeth
assures me, was a pupil of Rimsky-
Korsakoff, is pretty far in the back-
ground. However, he follows in his
teacher's footsteps in orchestration,
and his symphonic poems, six in all,
are well-thought out.
A friend of mine, an engineer that
is, has recently been bitten by the
record bug, and the other night he
asked me what is considered to be
the best in music. Now, if I knew
more about the subject, I could un-
doubtedly give him a long disserta-
tion on who's what is the thing to
have, and "for God's sake stay away
from so-and-so, he's putrid." But,
plebians, I have said time and time
again that I don't know anything
about classical music, and am not
qualified to tell someone else what is
good.
Bearing the above in mind, I told
him precisely what to do, as it is my
own system: in mqsic, the greatest
critic alive is you, because no one
else can form your opinions for you,
unless you happen to be particularly
malleable. If Smedlik's "Concerto
for Jug and Banjo" pleases you, it's
good music; no one can, or should,
tell you different. Music is written
for the effect it has on people, and
critics are necessary evils; if the
effect on you is good, the composer
has done what he intended, and if
a critic says it stinks, don't shy away
from it.
If I seem to be saying, in my best
Babbit manner, "I don't know about
art, but I know what I like," O.K.,
I am. But what you like is good
music to you. If I have drilled that
into one head, I have not lived in
vain.
by Spara
"People are the craziest animals, Marsh," I commented set-
tling down to roost on the Bronze-man's solid knee.
The statue groaned. "Spara, after lo these many month*
at the Institute I should think you could make a more pro-
found comment than that. I know what a bird brain you have
but with all the knowledge reek-
ing around, I should think you
would at least make that state
ment in German."
"I know what you mean, Marsh.
Conversations are always floating up
to me in French, German, and then
this gibberish called Wabba-Jobby.
Gee, somedays I long for one word
of English."
brightness grates on my founda-
tion."
Now let me tell you, when Marsh'
is in this kind of humor you have
to ignore him. His only trouble is
that spring is awfully frustrating to
a statue.
"Buddy week would be a great
institution, Marsh, if only you could
kidnap an upper classman with no
Marsh mumbled in his steely holds barredf but to cement class
whiskers something about the female feelingg of friendliness fights would
five-track mind and why in the
be sponsored by the class councils.
see you.
devil didn't I say what I'd come of course rules would be laid down,
to say and then fly away, far away. Those being kidnapped could only
This wasn't one of his better days. leave by a £iven gate which of course
Deciding to try again, as all wo- w°uld have to ,unlock> and a11
their classmates would team up and
men do, I rapped gently with my haye a - free.for.all . . . you know
beak on his knee caps. clean-cut American sport. You bash
"Heeeeee!" snickered the statue, his brains in and I'll bash yours. Yes,
bouncing me around on his knee. s^r Marsh, Buddy Week would be
"Spara, how many times have I told a great institution."
,, "Spara, of you I am ashamed,
you that .it is beneath my dignity T , in.j.i„ e > v.' j
J 6 ' Look, my little Spara, you're a bird,
for you to tickle me. Remember, my you can iook at pe0ple you see
position and the respect I command and enjoy them. They are having fun.
in this community. Remember, or Maybe it's not your kind of fun, but
I'll be reincarnated as a bird louse it is also not your place to criticize,
and then you'll see." Maybe they think your sitting in a
"Come to think of it, Marsh, I tree and twittering all day is as asi-
heard a group talking just the other lline as you think their pitched bat-
day in something that I'm sure re- ties. This is college, Spara . . . what
sembled English. Seems somebody more do you expect."
borrowed somebody else—sophomore j looKfed at my friend the Bronze.
vice-president or president or some- man for awhiie. "Well Marsh, in my
thing in th^, general category and opinion they can all go bury their
plots are afoot to walk off with the heads in cement," I sniffed fluttering
freshmen president. Odd terminolo- away.
gy, Marsh—Wise fool is quite clear i heard his murmur as I flew
if you'd over heard the conversations away "To see yourselves as others
I've heard but freshmen in my ob-
thing in that general catagory and
adjective is not necessarily limited
to the first year in college men.
Well, it seems a plot was afoot to
kidnap the entire sophomore class
and plant them. Some suggested
head down, since their brains don't
seem to be good for thinking, but
tjjey might root out very successful- /■
ly. And Marsh," I twittered, "some
happy little character thought that.
to fill the new stadium full of ce-
ment and plant the sophomore class
feet down would be interesting."
"I seem to remember that little
scheme as Freshmen Coercion, but
let it pass," mummured Marsh.
"Guidance, Coercion, at Rice it's
one and the same. Anyway, the plan
was to send every freshman a slip
of paper with a name on it. That
name would be the individual the
freshmen could kidnap during Bud-
dy week."
"You mean election week, Spara.
The sun has been bright since signs
have gone up. You'd think a bunch
of diamonds had been let loose
tearing over campus the smiles are
so ... so winsome, and the greet-
ings so glad. Honestly, Spara . . .
I enjoy being a dour old statue. This
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The Rice Thresher (Houston, Tex.), Vol. 37, No. 24, Ed. 1 Thursday, April 6, 1950, newspaper, April 6, 1950; Houston, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth230838/m1/2/: accessed June 30, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Rice University Woodson Research Center.