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sponsible for its return to the librarj^ from 
which it was withdrawn on or before the 
Latest Date stamped below. 

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.HE Green Caldron is published each September and Feb- 
ruary by the Rhetoric Staff at the University of lUinois. 
Material is chosen from themes and examinations written by 
freshmen in the University. Permission to publish is obtained 
for full themes, including those published anonymously. Parts 
of themes, however, may be published at the discretion of the 
committee in charge. 

Members of the committee in charge of the green caldron 
are Rosemarie Abendroth, Lome Forstner, Donald Rude, 
Melvin Storm, and Jeremy Wild, editor. 



Copyright 1968 by THE GREEN CALDRON Staff 



pubusheo by thk r, f. colwell printing corp. 
Champaign, Ilunois 



ir 
mimm 

A MAGAZINE OF 
FRESHMAN WRITING 



The Contributors and The Winners 2 



Susan Fitzhenry 3 A Land Without Pretzel-Benders 

Max J. Harvey 6 Zebca 
Carolyn Baechle 8 Changing Status 

Louis Plieper 10 A Contemporary Socratic Dialogue 
Doris Kirby 12 Past and Present 
Roger Heidenreich 15 The Sandbox: Games Children Play 
Duane Meyer 16 An Ideal Solution 
Sam P. Moreno 21 Television's New Problems 

23 uli)r ^brtriibnalt 

24 Rhet As Writ 



Volume 37, Number 1 
September, 1968 
University of Illinois 



The Contributors 

Susan Filzhenry — Watseka Comni. H.S. 
Max J. Harvey- — Centennial H.S., Champaign 
Carolyn Baechle — Masroutah Comm. H.S. 
Louis Nieper — Waukegan Township H.S. 
Doris Kirby — Moore H.S., Farmer City 
Roger Heidenreich — Freeport Senior H.S. 
Duane Meyer — Durand H.S. 
Sam P. Moreno — Alleman H.S., Rook Island 



The Winners 



The following are the winners of the prizes for the best themes 
in the May issue of THE CALDRON: 



First: Andrea Een, Modem Man and the Myth of Sisyphus 

Second: Polly Mayland, What You Need Is Something Stronger Than Scotrh Tape 

Third: Joanne Malvine Chester, October 21, 1967 

Fourtli: Gary J. Miller, Through Others 

Fifth: Michai'l Kolhuk, The Despair of Irony 



A Land Without Pretzel— Benders 



Susan Fitzhenry 
Rhetoric 108 

THOUGH THE SOCIETY PRESENTED IN THOMAS MORE'S 
Utopia is undoubtedly a marked improvement over that of More's con- 
temporary England, it is not the best of societies. To perpetuate itself, 
Utopia must suppress individualistic tendencies, for in individualism there is 
change — of habits, of ideas, of societies. And so the individual Utopian is lost. 
Like a dairy cow among many dairy cows sharing an island meadow, he 
occasionally raises his head to blink out at the world, then returns to his 
grass. He owns nothing, not even himself. His life and that of his children 
and that of his children's children belong to Utopia, as does the food he eats, 
as does the roof over his head, as does the land upon which he walks. He 
does not — he cannot — question the system. 

The Utopian process of destroying the image of the individual begins with 
a dissociation of identity from the family unit. People are shuffled about 
Utopia in much the same manner as the dairy cows are transferred from one 
pasture to another : number and circumstance dictate the necessity. No country 
household may have fewer than forty citizens. ^ No city household may have 
fewer than ten or more than sixteen (p. 37). No city may have more than 
six thousand households. If there are too many children in one household, 
they are transferred to another (p. 37) ; if the household trade is not suitable 
for a particular child, he is transferred elsewhere (p. 34). When there is 
too great an increase in population, citizens must establish a colony off the 
island; when there is too great a decrease, they must return (pp. 37-38). 

Next, the concept of physical individuality is, as far as possible, expunged. 
Everyone wears similar clothing and lives in a three-story stone house (p. 32). 
Every house has a door to the garden and a door to the street (p. 31). Every 
street has fifteen households on one side and fifteen households on the other 
side and a great public hall at the end (p. 39). Every city is as nearly as 
possible like every other city on the island. 

Not only the physical environment is controlled. Explicit and implicit 
laws define the limits of individual behavior. 

The list of explicit laws, the legal structure of Utopian society, is for- 
midable. No man shall consult with other men about public affairs outside 
the senate or people's assembly (p. 33). No man shall be derelict in his work 
or idle or wanton in his leisure (p. 34). No man shall travel in Utopia without 
a passport from his prince; no man shall walk in neighboring fields without 
the consent of both his wife and father (p. 41). No man shall have 
an illicit affair before marriage; no man shall commit adultery (pp. 58-59). 

3 



4 The Green Caldron 

No man shall "sink so far below the dignity of human nature as to think that 
the soul dies with the body, or that the universe is carried along by cliance 
without an over-ruling providence" (p. 72). No man shall present heretic 
opinions to the people (pp. 72-73). 

In addition to this legal structure, there is an unwritten system of prece- 
dents for making moral judgments, a system which has been passed from 
one generation to the next since the time of King Utopus almost two thousand 
years before. This set of criteria, which extends into all phases of Utopian 
life, together with the laws, is the basis for Utopian "right reason" : it is good 
to work at a trade six hours a day, exemplary to work longer, and bad to 
he idle (p. 34) ; it is good to take care of natural beauty, bad to use artificial 
aids (p. 60) ; it is good for a man's family to follow him to a battleground, 
bad for a spouse to survive a spouse or a son to survive a father (p. 67) ; 
it is good to eat with three hundred to four hundred eighty other citizens 
of the syphogranty in the public hall, improper to eat at home (p. 39) ; it is 
good to enjoy the pleasures condoned by Utopian "right reason," bad to 
indulge in those pleasures which are not condoned (pp. 49-51) ; it is good 
to be a citizen of Utopia; it is unfortunate to be anything else. 

If a man wants nothing more of his life than to be well-fed and well-regu- 
lated, Utopia is his paradise. For as long as he functions within the bound- 
aries established by these social, physical, legal, and moral codes, for as long 
as he is content not to look beyond the Utopian limits, the man's life will be 
frictionless. And Utopia will be a nation of heavy-limbed peasants — well-fed 
and well-regulated, yes, but tied to the ground, bound to their little island. 

As in the Islamic Ottoman Empire, as in the Confucian Chinese Empire, 
Utopian cultural progress is hindered, limited, by the perf)etuation of a system 
of thought. Though the time does inevitably come when one system of thought 
is pushed aside and replaced by one which better fits into the larger pattern 
of thought developing in the world as a whole, until that time each innovation 
must battle for a place in an antique world. "We are the greatest city, the 
greatest nation : nothing like us ever was." - The Ottoman Moslems outlawed 
the wearing of European clothing in Islamic cities and considered conquest 
of surrounding areas a more or less natural manifestation of the superior 
system of Islamic thought over the inferior system of the conquered land ; 
the Utopians laugh at the Anemolian idea of splendor (p. 44) and drive 
natives who "will not conform to their laws" out of the areas Utopians 
claim for themselves as colonies (p. 38). Looking to the past and them- 
selves becomes a habit. Like the Confucian dynasties, Utopia subordinates 
the younger generation and any views it might have to the older generation 
and a two thousand year old system of thought ; time stands still. The mind 
becomes a locked cell : certain things may be introduced to it ; certain things 
may not. 

If two thousand years ago King Utopus decided there were to be no private 



September, 1968 5 

meetings, that there was to be no travel without permission, that there was 
to be no conception of the death of a soul or a universe without a Supreme 
Being, if for two thousand years it has been wrong to be idle, to eat privately, 
or to indulge in certain pleasures, what right has any Utopian to question? 
The proper Utopian thinks, yes; but he thinks thoroughly Utopian thoughts. 
He speaks, yes ; but he speaks thoroughly Utopian statements. He reads, yes ; 
but he reads thoroughly Utopian books. He is a man without self : his life 
is programmed ; his thoughts are programmed. 

Assuming that a Utopian does, because of contact with cultures outside 
his own or because of some chance incident, have a thoroughly un-Utopian 
thought in spite of his Utopian indoctrination, it does not mean that the 
individual has won out over the system. For any number of reasons he might 
begin to wonder what harm there could be in wearing a new style of clothing, 
why he should not have a cottage of his own, why he cannot walk without 
asking permission, why he need be so efficient all the time, why he should not 
question the life of the soul after death or the existence of a controlling being. 

At any rate the heretic thought is conceived by a Utopian ; he now has 
four alternatives: (1) he can repress or dismiss the thought simply because 
it is thoroughly un-Utopian; (2) he can leave Utopia; (3) he can take 
his un-Utopian thought to the elders ; or (4) he can break the Utopian 
code by acting on his heretic thought. If he is successful in repressing 
the thought, it will die stillborn. If he leaves Utopia, the thought will not 
spread and contaminate the rest of the island. If he opts for the third choice, 
taking his thought to the Utopian elders, he can expect to talk with them 
until he is dissuaded from his madness: their sole intent, their only purpose 
for existing, is to show him the error of his way. If finally, unconvinced, he 
decides to break the Utopian code in favor of his heretic thought, the man 
can expect to be arrested and punished. Ultimately, if infractions are repeated 
and serious, he may be exiled, killed, or made a bondsman. His wayward 
thought cannot be allowed; he must be made an example for others who 
would think un-Utopian thoughts. It is in this way that a system like 
Utopia's can perpetuate itself intact. The individual with un-Utopian ideas 
is repressed. 

But individuals cannot be judged by Utopian standards. The most neces- 
sary man is not always the most popular: Lincoln, when most needed, was 
not popular with a great many people. The most creative man is not always 
useful : Vachel Lindsay was a vagabond who sang for his supper. The wisest 
man is not always the most law-abiding : Socrates, Thoreau, and Gandhi broke 
of locked minds. 

I remember reading once — I do not remember where — that all of mankind 
lives in a tremendous skyscraper. At the very top, thirty floors above the 
ground, is a small group of rare men — men like Socrates, Shakespeare, 



6 The Green Caidron 

Thoreau, Bach, Beethoven, Gandhi, Newton, Einstein, even More himself — 
who sit at their desks by the windows and bend beautiful pretzels. For days 
at a time they work diligently bending pretzels ; and when they are done, they 
lean back in their chairs, take the pretzels in their hands, look at tliem for 
a moment, then toss them out the windows. Most of the floors under the 
thirtieth are completely empt}-. The next inhabited floors are the second 
and third stories from the ground. On these floors are lesser men than those 
on the thirtieth. They lean out the windows of the skyscraper with nets and 
catch the falling pretzels ; they examine them to see what can be made of 
them. They use the knowledge gained from the pretzels in doing thoroughly 
useful things for the rest of humanity on the ground floor of the building. 
But that group of rare men on the top story of the skj'scraper could be 
thought of as a thoroughly useless group of men : they are inefficient ; they 
have no exact purpose in their work; they do not live by the same rules 
as the masses of people on the ground. For these reasons they have no place 
in Utopia for Utopia belongs to the efficient, purposeful masses. Utopia has 
not now, nor could ever have, pretzel-benders. They are not a part of the 
planned society. 

FOOTNOTES 

'Thomas More, Utopia (New York, 1949), p. 29. All subsequent references to this 
edition will be parenthetical. 

'Carl Sandburg, "Four Preludes on Playthings of the Wind," Complete Poems (New 
York, 1950), pp. 183-84. 



Zebca 

Max J. Harvey 
Rhetoric 101 

THE TIME WAS MID-JULY AND THE WEATHER WAS PER- 
fect for a night at the Dubois County Fair. This was one of the 
big annual events in Huntingburg, a town of about five thousand, 
located in southern Indiana. My friend and I, both about fourteen years 
of age, left his house with two major objectives: to have fun, and to save 
as much of our scarce money supply as we could, both jxjssible objectives 
if we used even the least amount of common sense. 

We had been strolling around awhile when I became interested in one 
particular side show. This show had the usual Fair propaganda plastered 
on two large signs outside of a rather small, dingy tent. The signs claimed 
that Zebca, the wild girl, was so wild that no man had handled her and 
that she had to be kept in a cage at night. The real catching feature was 
tliat tonight, and tonight only, it would cost only one thin dime to be 



September, 1968 7 

admitted. My friend and I agreed that this particular side show seemed 
to fit our boyish imaginations and our boyish pocketbool<s. We paid our 
dimes and marched inside the tent, although fully expecting to be greatly 
disappointed because of our past knowledge of the fair and its methods 
of making money. 

Once inside the tent, we were confronted by a few other people star- 
ing disinterestedly into a small canvas arena about the size of a small 
room. Inside the arena, contrary to the signs, a form, clad only in dirty 
rags, lay huddled in a small clump. By the form lay the only other items 
in the pit : a coke bottle and a rubber hose about two feet in length. These 
I thought were just a part of the show as I was fairly certain the whole 
thing was a fraud, and that the thing in the pit was an ordinary female 
paid to look like a human being in an "advanced" state of degeneration. 

The interest of my friend and I had about dwindled to nothing when 
a new arrival in the audience impelled us to stay a few minutes longer. 
His name, or at least the only one I had ever heard him called by, was 
Kelly, and he was one of the town's most notorious trouble-makers. Kelly 
was not content to stand quietly on the sidelines and watch a supposedly 
sleeping figure. He promptly began picking up little pieces of dirt and 
throwing them at the dirty form with a considerable amount of force, ac- 
companying these efforts with a high shrill whistle, with which he was 
very proficient. The small form soon responded to these actions and I 
felt a strange chill when I saw the thing stir and slowly rise to a sitting 
position on her haunches. At this time I got my first good look at her. 
She was a young girl, probably about sixteen years of age. A large mass 
of matted, stringy hair cascaded down the sides of her head. Her face, 
a sickly white except for the smudges of abundant dirt, appeared as a 
blur and throughout my stay I was never able to bring her facial features 
into sharp focus. Her body was clad in an old, tattered, full-length dress 
that seemed to accentuate her ugly appearance, and she wore nothing on 
her feet. 

By this time the antics of Kelly had become very annoying to the 
once quiet form and she now truly began to be Zebca, the wild girl. At 
increasingly frequent intervals she began to lunge out at the hand Kelly 
taunted her with, in much the same manner as a cornered cat lunges out 
at a dog. She seemed incapable of standing on two feet and simply 
moved on her hands and knees. 

Meanwhile the commotion inside the tent was noticed on the outside. 
The tent began filling rapidly with people; some desired to share in the 
methods of Kelly and others just wanted to watch. The effects of the 
increased teasing made Zebca's wildness increase substantially. The rub- 
ber hose which had lain idly by her side now became a dangerous weapon 
with which Zcbca swung wildly and viciously at the outstretched hands 



8 The Green Caldron 

and the peering faces. Once, she even took the coke bottle and flung it 
out into the audience, fortunately not hitting anyone. Some fool promptly 
threw it back into the pit. Conditions were now getting a little out of 
hand, forcing one of the Fair workers to come into the tent and restrain 
the crowd. This seemed fine with Zebca. I believe her attitude was that 
if tliey left her alone she would leave them alone. 

Up until this time I harbored the thought that tliis whole thing was 
quite possibly a hoax. The next action of Zebca removed all remaining 
doubts from my mind. Zebca, in this quiet period, picked up the coke 
bottle and did something with it under lier dress. At my age I was too 
young to know what she was doing, but I knew enough to know that 
it was somehow very undesirable and obviously not a characteristic of 
normal human behavior. The fair-hand had left and the crowd was again 
getting restless, but I had had enough. I left that tent with mixed emo- 
tions; possibly pit)', maybe anger, but I knew that there was something 
vastly wrong, something I could sense but not understand. 

As I look back on that night today, with more maturity and knowl- 
edge, I can recall vivid images; the filthy appearance of Zebca, the hard 
demeanor of the Fair people who put her in that pit, the taunting faces 
of Kelly and his bullies, and the large excited crowd crying out for action, 
and I ask myself one question: "Who were the real animals?" 

Changing Status 

Carolyn Baechle 
Rhetoric 101 

Writing Assignment: Discuss the classification systems you belong to 
and examine the ways in which they conflict. 

THE BUS NOISILY PULLED AWAY FROM THE DEPOT 
where my parents were standing, waving as if they were losing me 
forever. I had never been more than a couple of hundred miles from 
home before, even with my parents, and now here I was, only eighteen, go- 
ing from St. Louis, Missouri, to Tampa, Florida, about 1500 miles, alone. 
It was then six-thirty a.m. By twelve noon the next day, I was to reach 
my destination. 

After the bus got onto open highway I took notice of my sur- 
roundings. There were only about ten people on the bus. I occupied the 
first seat. Across from me sat a neatly dressed Negro woman. We began 
conversing like any two strangers looking for friends. 

The Negro woman was on her way home to Chattanooga, Tennessee, 
after a visit with her daughter in St. Louis. I noticed a trace of sadness 
in her voice when she told me this, as if she really did not want to go 



September, 1968 9 

hoine. Later, after my trip, I wondered about her reasons. Would she 
have liked to visit her daughter longer? Or did she want to remain in 
Missouri because of the racial trouble in her home state? 

The Negro lady's daughter had packed her a large sack lunch; so 
when we came to our dinner stop she offered me some. As I ate it, I 
reflected on how nice it was to be on my own, treated by adults as an 
equal, and making friends with all sorts of people. 

The sun shone brightly as we continued on from Indiana into Kentucky. 
The Negro woman got off at Louisville and the bus went on to Nashville, 
Tennessee. It had been filling up; now almost all the seats were taken. 

It was near nightfall when we reached Nashville. Many people got 
on and off the bus here. A young man sat with me ; later I found out 
that his name was Mike. From the moment he sat down he gave the 
Negroes cold, contemptous looks. One Negro girl, apparently drunk, walked 
past our seat looking at us with glassy ice eyes and showing her gleaming 
yellow teeth. Mike looked at her disgustedly, his face turning hard and 
cruel. I noticed at this point that a division was taking place. No Negroes 
sat near the front of the bus anymore, and no whites \-entured to the back. 
The night was cold and dark! 

After the bus started on its way again, Mike and I began talking. It 
seemed that the ill-feelings and separation were just the beginning. This 
young man said just about anjlihing could happen. He pulled out a switch- 
blade and then a gun to prove to me that I was safe with him. My mind, 
my body, felt defeated. I felt like a lost child, alone, helpless, and scared. 
Here I was, a white girl out of her home territory, an enemy to every 
Negro. Was I to trust Mike with his weapons, which supposedly were 
to protect us? Could I trust anyone? 

As we talked on, the man asked where I was from. The moment I 
said I was from Illinois he called me a "damn Yankee." "The Yankees 
don't realize what the Negroes are like," he argued. I tried to explain 
the racial situation was two-sided, but I was a "Yankee" and "Yankees" 
just don't understand. I was also "female" and therefore more gullible 
in his opinion, more susceptible to misunderstanding such affairs. 

It took us all night to get through Alabama; it was a nightmare of 
watching and praying nothing would happen. We reached Tallahassee, 
Florida, about eight in the morning; Mike got off there. My hopes came 
up along with the sun that morning. As we got deeper into Florida, the 
people on the bus, and everywhere, became more and more friendly. The 
division was gone. I was still female, but I had grown up again. I was 
still a Northerner but it did not matter anymore. A Japanese man who 
was sitting across the aisle asked me the time. It was ten-thirty on a 
beautiful Thursday morning. 



10 The Green Caldron 

A Contemporary Socratic Dialogue 

LX»UIS NiEPER 
Rhetoric 102 

DURING A RECENT DORM ROOM DISCUSSION, ONE OF THE 
participants revealed his anger toward the chiefs of state of our country. 
"You know, something that really ticks me ofT is all these guys sitting 
around in Washington making big plans for the war and here we sit hearing 
nothing of what they plan to do with our army, our money, and our lives. 
Not even the soldiers fighting the war know of any of the long-range plans 
of the military high command. They only find out about major operations a 
few weeks before they have to be carried out. The people of this country have 
just as much right to know what's going to happen in Viet Nam six months 
from now as the big brass do." 

"So, you think that the government shouldn't censor its military strategies 
from the general public. W^hy do you think that the government should allow 
its plans to reach the general public?" I asked. 

"Because the public has every right to know. After all, who's really 
fighting this war? Not those fat generals in their big, plush Washington 
offices. They're not out in the mud and heat and mosquitoes. They don't 
have to worry about staying alive from one day to the next. And there 
they are making all kinds of big plans and the guys who have to carry 
out those plans don't even know what's coming off until a short time before 
they have to go into action. We civilians also should be allowed to know 
what our government's plans are. It's our country, too. We've got plenty 
of right to k-now what the big brass plan to do with this country." 

"Why don't we try to associate the problem with a comparable situation," 
I suggested. "Suppose you are the president of a company. Would you 
inform all of your employees of your future plans for mergers, contracts, 
changes in production, and other vital business operations of this nature?" 

"No. I suppose not," he answered. 

"I assume that your reason for not doing so is that if such information 
were spread among so many people there would be a good chance of com- 
petitors discovering your plans and foiling them." 

"Yes, that's right." 

"So, if you allow the knowledge of such information to be possessed only 
by the major executives of your company, you should have a much greater 
opportunity for success in your business ventures." 

"I guess so." 

"And, if you succeed, then everyone else in your company also shares the 
benefits of success. As a result of the closure of lucrative transactions, you 
are able to pay better wages and secure more company benefits for your 
employees." 



September, 1968 11 

"Yes," he said. "That's possible." 

"So your employees will also profit because you didn't allow vital infor- 
mation to be possessed by more than just a few top executives. Right?" 

"Yes. I guess that's right." 

I continued, "In the same way then, the general public is benefited when 
the military chiefs of staff censor their plans as 'top secret'. If the number 
of people with extensive knowledge of military plans is kept to a minimum, 
there is a greatly decreased possibility that the enemy will gain access to such 
information. If the enemy is kept ignorant of our plans, our chance for 
victory is greater. When our military forces succeed, we civilians are repaid 
with the reassurance of life in freedom." 

"Well, your analogy just happens to work," he said. "But let's see what 
you can do with my analogy." 

"All right," I said, "let's hear it." 

"Now, you're the head coach of a pro football team. You've got a 
championship game in three weeks. Naturally, you have your strategies all 
prepared. But, are you going to inform your players of your designs now 
or are you going to wait until a week before the game to tell them?" 

"I will affirm my resolutions to them long before the contest in order that 
they will be best prepared." 

"So," he said, "you just admitted that it is more beneficial if no vital 
plans are withheld from the players." 

"Yes, that's correct," I admitted. "However, I would be withholding 
information from the general public." 

"What does the public have to do with it?" he asked. 

I answered, "The general public in your analogy would be any supporters 
of the team. A Green Bay Packers' fan buys a ticket to see the Packers win. 
If the Packers win, he will leave the stadium in high spirits. If they lose, he 
will probably not consider his purchase a very worthwhile and satisfying 
investment." 

"That sounds like a typical football fan," he commented. 

"However," I continued, "if I, the head coach, release all my plans and 
plays to the general public, it is obvious, I think, that it will be fairly easy for 
the opposing team to gain knowledge of them. Won't my chances for victory 
therefore decrease?" 

"Yes." 

"Consequently, the chances that Packers' fans, the public, will be satisfied 
will also decrease. Do you agree?" 

"I have to agree," he admitted. 

I finished by saying, "So, you must also agree, then, that censorship of 
future military plans from the public is, in fact, necessary and beneficial 
to the public." 

"Yes," he answered. "I agree now." 



12 The Green Caldron 



Past and Present 



Doris Kirby 
Rhetoric 101 

HOW HEARTWARMIXG IT IS TO WANDER BACK TO AN 
era never actually experienced and savor the wonderfulness of olden 
days through the eyes and keen recall of a great-grandfatlier such 
as mine. He was a tall, thin man with sparse hair — just a very gray rim 
of it left around his head at ear level. He wore a neatly trimmed mous- 
tache and his eyes were compelling ones of faded blue. My grandmother 
used to entertain me by recalling true experiences of incidents and acci- 
dents that he'd known in his life. I never tired of hearing his stories of 
homesteading in the West. 

Great-grandfather staked out a claim on the wide plain near the fu- 
ture city of Greeley, Colorado. In those days any poor man could easily 
buy real estate, but he could not call it his own until he had established 
ownership by building a house on it, improving the land, and living there 
five years. (Millard Fillmore, as United States President, had signed great- 
grandfather's deed.) Great-grandfather began to build a "sod shanty." First, 
a hole was dug in the ground. Then, he plowed furrows of sod. "Bricks" 
were made by slicing the sod as it was plowed up. These squares were 
used as building material. Since the plants were left in the soil, the sides 
of the homes often bloomed when the liglit sjiring rains came. These sod 
shanties were cool in summer and warm in winter. To build the home 
rec|uired a certain amount of skill as sod was about the only material avail- 
able off the land. The sun beamed down: there were no shade trees near; 
and all the family (including my grandfather who was tlien nine years 
old) chopped and cut away to help make the sod blocks so necessary for 
the cabin. It had two rooms — if such they could be called for they were 
small. The family lived in the covered wagon they came in until the new 
sod shanty was completed. At last, after weeks of back-breaking work 
and fingers grubby wth soil under the nails, the home was finished with 
even a roof on! They moved in, and what pride they felt in ownership, 
and in their own strength, and endurance! The city dweller today lives 
in a home he bought secondhand because it is not of his own making. Nor 
can he feel any thrill in the woodwork, the paint, or the secure roof, be- 
cause he had no part in conceiving it or building it with his own hands. 

The family moved the scanty pieces of furniture from the wagon into 
the house. Great-grandfather was lucky in one respect. There was a well 
already on the land so his family did not have to dig that. He next 



September, 1968 13 

built a bank of dirt around the base of the home in order to doubly se- 
cure its foundation. That first spring was pleasant, except for the howl- 
ing winds that burst upon them one day in early March and wailed 
and shrieked themselves out after many dusty, miserable, dark, and eye- 
watering days. My great-grandfather said the incessant blowing and noise 
of the wind during this period made one want to scream, "Stop! Stop!" 
Then one night he awakened and sat up in bed — something was wrong! 
He said he actually felt the hair on his scalp rise with fear when he real- 
ized what it was that woke him. He woke great-grandmother and together 
they "howled" with laughter : the wind had quieted, had actually stopped. 
Now, the stillness was as overpowering as the noise had been. The city 
dweller today inside his expensive apartment walls is hardly aware of the 
weather. How much he misses by lack of contact with change in the ele- 
ments of nature. 

When calm was restored, the sifted soil had to be cleaned out of the 
cabin. Great-grandmother fussed and cleaned for days, but she was really 
glad for a release from the tension. The city dweller today releases his 
tension with a few martinis! 

The fuel gathering story alwaj-s intrigued me ; and I asked for this 
story over and over. The children were given the task of fuel gathering. 
After all the buffalo chips and stiff grass near the cabin had been collected, 
great-grandmother went for fuel this day as she predicted a storm and 
didn't think it was safe for the children to be so far from home. She used 
the skirt of her very full dress to put the buffalo chips in by gathering 
the hem and holding it near her waist. She wandered farther than she 
realized, and only became conscious of the extreme distance from the 
cabin and safety when she looked up and saw a small herd of buffalo 
charging at her. She quickly dumped her fuel, pulled her gathered skirt 
up above her shoulders, and began screaming and running directly toward 
the buffalo. Running against the wind filled her skirt and it billowed out 
like a ship in full sail. The bull leading the herd paused for a second, 
snorted at the billowing and fluttering apparition coming toward him — 
and veered off in another direction leading his galloping herd after him. 
Great-grandmother was shaking, but she had no intention of losing the 
fuel she so badly needed. She hastily scooped it into her skirt "basket" 
again and fled back to the safety of the cabin. A fuel problem today in 
most of America's homes is solved with a flick of the wrist and a push 
button that says "on." 

Cattlemen were always frequent visitors and great-grandfather soon 
had all the work at the cabin under control to the point where he hired 
out to a rancher. Great-grandfather lived in the saddle, surveying the 
world from this height, day after day. In later years, he often said he'd 



14 The Green Caldron 

rather have been outdoors in the saddle than in an office chair — even 
the swivel kind. 

That spring great-grandfather and the neighbor man discovered a 
clump of wild plums in bloom along Lone Tree Creek. They watched 
to see when they were ripe ; and my great-grandmother and all the family 
went in the covered wagon across a dry river bed and spent the day on 
the opposite side. Blankets were spread on the ground ; the plums were 
shaken down ; the blankets were lifted and the plums placed in containers 
in the wagon. Then a picnic lunch was enjoyed before they started back 
across the river and home. Imagine their concern to find a churning river 
where the dry bed had been. The Lone Tree Creek was a raging stream 
and rising each minute. Great-grandfather and the neighbor man whipped 
up the horses and plunged into the stream. When they were almost across, 
the stream became too swift for the plucky team. The horses began to 
lunge and snort with fear. Great-grandfather, sensing the trouble, un- 
hitched the harness and loosened the horses from the wagon. He rode 
ofl leaving the wagon in the stream. After getting the animals to safety 
on the bank, he quickly swam back and secured a lariat onto the wagon 
tongue. Then, from the bank, the calmed horses pulled the wagon to 
safety. Great-grandmother made delicious plum butter from the plums 
for a winter spread. Great-grandfather said he enjoyed remembering this 
story and said the plum butter was a welcome change in the plain diet 
they ate daily. The difficulty and danger in getting the fruit was a small 
price to pay for the rewards. How many of our children today enjoy 
picking luscious, finger-staining berries or even know the fields they are 
found in? The only work they know is getting the jars off the super- 
market shelves to replenish the family shelves at home. 

Great-grandfather and my grandfather and his brother often cooked 
over a campfire and slept out under the stars. Many times as they drifted 
off to sleep they heard the coyotes howl. The constellations were studied 
and understanding of weather indications was a must. If you read the 
weather map of nature wrongly, you and your herd of animals might be 
soaked, "fried," or chilled to death. Today's businessman listens to a 
weather report on radio or television and is "underprivileged" in that he 
cannot read nature's weather map for himself. 

My grandmother told me many tales of an interesting era that has 
now slipped away in time, never to return, except in memories. It is 
wishful thinking, but I'd like to have been there (in the middle to late 
1800's) marching to the drumbeat of an emerging state, wrestling with 
the difficulties, overcoming the natural surroundings, and truly enjoying 
the simple things and the freedom of it all with my great-grandfather. 



September, 1968 IS 

The Sandbox: Gaines Children Play 

Roger Heidenreich 
Rhetoric 102 

THE CHIEF, NAMED SO BECAUSE HE WAS THE OLDEST 
and biggest kid in the neighborhood, was playing by himself in his 
sandbox. He had many new trucks and men, since he had lost or 
damaged many of his old toys when his family moved. He prided him- 
self on his ability to maneuver his toys despite the lumps in the sand, 
which always seemed to follow when he placed his hand or knee on his 
imaginary cities. In fact, he often got disturbed, because it seemed that 
the more he moved his toys, the rougher the sand became. 

It was at this point in his play when a friend, Dick, appeared. The 
Chief was rather surprised to see Dick back so soon because a week ago 
Tuesday, Dick had been defeated in a battle (Dick's favorite game was 
to play soldiers), and had been so discouraged the rest of the kids thought 
he would never return. But there he was, ready to play again. He told 
The Chief he had a new battle plan, but he would not disclose it, think- 
ing it best to save his secret for the battle itself. The Chief, curious to 
discover Dick's new plan, agreed to fight a battle with Dick, so he called 
up his soldiers, which he had been keeping to the side while he worked 
on improving his cities and roads, to meet the enemy on the sandy battle- 
front. This act he performed cautiously, trying not to disturb his newly 
constructed cities and highways. He found, however, that it was impos- 
sible to carry on a war without disturbing the cities and roads, so he 
decided that since the war with Dick was most important, he would de- 
stroy the work he had done previously, and concentrate entirely on his 
battle. 

As the battle grew in intensity, another youngster. Gene, came to the 
sandbox. Gene had come with his trucks and houses, wanting to construct 
cities and highways and not wanting to play with soldiers. Almost imme- 
diately after Gene arrived, Bobby, one of The Chief's old friends, came 
with his trucks, tractors, and cars. The two, Gene and Bobby, decided 
to help one another in an attempt to persuade The Chief and Dick to 
convert the sandbox from a battleground to a city. The four could not 
reach an agreement to play the same game, but they did reach a compro- 
mise. Gene and Bobby received half of the sandbox in which to build 
cities and roads, while The Chief and Dick kept the other half for their 
battle. It was not long before the two groups, as children often do, began 
disagreeing on the division of their property. It seemed that Gene and 
Bobby often crossed the line and took sand from the other side to build 
their cities. Naturally, The Chief and Dick became disturbed at this act, 



16 



The Green Caldron 



and in retaliation stepped up the intensity of their battle in an effort to 
show the other two how much fun their war was. This neither impressed 
Bobby or Gene, nor did it improve the state of their cities and roads or 
the state of the entire sandbox, since in their excitement to simulate bomb- 
ings the two fighters threw sand at one another and scattered it over the 
cities and roads which Gene and Bobby had constructed. Finally, the 
inevitable happened: The Chief got some sand in his eye and had to go 
home, leaving the other three to clean up his sandbox. 

An Ideal Solution 

A Plan For Keeping the Negro From Being Exploited in the United 
States and A Plan to Relieve the U.S. Government of the Financial Burden 
of Keeping Peace in the Major American Cities — By Jonathan Quickly. 

DuANE Meier 
Rhetoric 102 

IT IS INDEED A SAD SITUATION TO READ IN OUR NEWS- 
papers and periodicals the horrifying accounts of Negro uprisings in 

our fair cities. Chicago, Baltimore and Washington, D.C., bore the 
brunt of the latest unrest. Through the television eye, we saw parents 
and their children take to the city streets, looting and burning, refusing 
to heed the pleas of local and national authorities to desist and return to 
their normal, everyday occupations. 

I'm sure you will all agree with me that this growing minority of 
twenty million Negroes in our country must be dealt with now and with 
respect to its human rights. Since the added government expense (re- 
quired to quell the disturbances and restore order) is dear to the hearts 
and pocketbooks of all men, Black or White, I suggest an economical, 
])ractical solution, and I hope that my following suggestions will be met 
with open minds and open hearts. I have thought long and hard upon 
this plight of our Black brothers. I have come to the conclusion that my 
plan will contribute to the "pursuit of happiness" for all Americans and 
that it will establish absolute equality for all races. 

First, I suggest that we deal with more than just the trouble-making 
Negroes. I think we should deal with all the colored folks, because it is 
their right as a minority in a democracy to be dealt with as one group. 
No Black person should be denied his place in his society. 

To begin with, I would like to place before you the proposition that 
we seal off the Negro areas in all cities, and, in areas where Negroes 
and Whites are living together, move all the Negroes to relocation centers 
where, as in the large cities, they will be sealed off from the White world. 
This I am sure will protect our Black brothers from some of our kind 



September, 1968 17 

who would infamously try to exploit them. I nearly weep every time I 
see Negroes go into a small loan office. My heart, and I am sure your 
heart too, goes out to these poor colored people who drive downtown to 
the credit bureau in their old, broken-down Cadillacs, and in order to 
buy color T.V. sets have to pay exorbitant interest rates on even small 
loans. For the sake of our country's democratic .sense of "fair play" in 
business, I implore you that we immediately cordon off the Black folks 
and refuse to allow any Whites to enter their ghetto. This confinement 
would be a promising step forward on the way to protecting our Negroes 
once and for all. 

The second step in my plan to alleviate prejudice and white racism 
is to establish in sub-tropical Africa a new homeland for our Black peo- 
ple. I'm sure that any person with a clean conscience cannot disagree 
with this idea. Man yearns to be free in a land he can call his own, and 
of course, Africa is the true homeland of the Negroes. True, it may be 
rather strenuous on the weak individuals at first, but the price of na- 
tional freedom, as we plainly know, although a high price, is a fair price 
to pay. 

By establishing an all-Negro nation, we will be doing an invaluable 
service to Blacks and Whites alike. The Whites will be freer to develop 
and understand the meaning of democracy. In regard to the Black men, 
the chronic imemployment that has plagued them here will be taken care 
of over there. The Negroes will have first chance at jobs in their country. 
With all the natural resources in sub-tropical Africa, the Black man will 
be able to support himself. Furthermore, the United States government 
will recognize the government of the new country immediately, and it 
will be willing to give monetary grants to the country as soon as it asks 
for them. What is more, before the Negroes leave our country (which 
will be dealt with later in my report) the United States government at 
its own expense will equip every Black male with two loin-cloths and 
every Black female with eight yards of the purest cotton cloth so she can 
design native garb of her own choosing. In addition to this, the govern- 
ment will provide the man of the family with (for hunting) — one knife, 
army "commando" style, one hunting spear, tipped with the finest U.S. 
tempered steel, and one doubleheaded "tru-strike" axe, for use on the 
jungle trees. To the women the government will give a complete line of 
oven-glazed crockery for use in Africa. 

With these generous gifts from our government, the Negro will have 
a higher standard of living in his true original African style than he had 
here. For instance, the money the Negro spends on food and housing 
wil Ibe substantially reduced. He will soon learn to raise his own food 
in the jungle clearings throughout equatorial Africa. The cost of housing 
will be minimal. With his gift of an axe, he should be able to clear the 



LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 



Ig The Green Caldron 

jungle, chop down trees and branches and build comfortable one-room, 
dirt-floored, thatched-roofed huts for nothing more than some hard labor 
on his part. Anyone who cannot build his own hut will be able to rent 
one from a landlord. Significantly, this landlord will be one of his own 
race. The Negro's conditions of housing will improve in another way 
also — the ever-present rats and cockroaches he had in his living quarters 
here will not be able to stand the heat over there very well, and, besides, 
natural predators of both creatures will be present in the form of lions 
and other members of the feline family who devour rats, and in the form 
of anteaters who relish cockroaches. All patriotic Americans must agree 
that I sincerely wish to help our Black citizens and that my plan offers 
them many advantages. 

Sending twenty million Negroes to Africa will benefit both Whites 
and Blacks in another way. There will no longer be over-crowding in 
our cities. The colored people will be able to start over and expand at 
will across the width of Africa. Because of our balance of payments def- 
icit and the gold drain, the Negroes' money will remain in this country 
for the sake of developing "Black Americanaland" (discussed later) and 
also for use in our cities to improve and clean up the areas in the cities 
where the Negroes lived. Our cities will become even more an ideal pic- 
ture of democracj' in action — no anarchy, riots, etc., no separation of cit- 
izens and the exploitation of some by others, and no slums. I'm sure that 
Blacks and Whites will agree to this. Also, with the abundance of natural 
resources in Africa, the new nation will be on sound economic ground 
in a very short time (the Negroes can develop a large tourist trade with 
Americans and they will be able to sell native artifacts). The Americans 
will have room to grow in and also first chance at any jobs vacated by 
the Negroes. 

Of course, this solution is not as easy as it sounds. There are some 
problems which must be resolved. For instance, in the United States 
there are approximately ten thousand couples who are miscegenetic. I pro- 
pose, however, that the ten thousand men and women from each couple 
who are Black be allowed to remain in the United States after they have 
been relieved of procreative powers. This will prevent further interbreed- 
ing, but will allow two people in love to remain happy. For the White 
partner of the miscegenetic couple who want to engage in coitus, how- 
ever, after his or her mate has been spayed or castrated, an area pool of 
ten White men or ten White women will be formed ; its sole purpose 
will be to provide intercourse for the White partner of the couple, and 
so, keep the person happy and well adjusted — which is the wish of every 
American. In any situation where the colored person chooses to leave 
America, his White mate will be allowed to accompany him. If the couple 
remains and already has dark Black children, the parents will be relieved 



September, 1968 19 

of their responsibility to raise, feed, clothe, and educate the child, and 
the United States government will see that the children are relocated in 
their true homeland with a childless couple there, thus helping those in 
Africa who cannot give birth. Those parents of more mixed Caucasoid 
and Negroid blood, commonly called mulattoes, will be allowed to remain 
here after they have been properly treated to remove any chances of their 
propagating our Black brother in the United States of America. 

Through close consultation with several of the top U.S. cultural an- 
thropologists, I have devised a simple examination for suspected mulat- 
toes and for those citizens who are unsure of their ancestry. (Ancestral 
uncertainty is defined as the inability to trace one's lineage back three full 
generations on both sides.) A person will be examined for: (1) nose 
width (wider than 1.75 inches is considered Negroid), (2) hair curl (more 
than two curls per inch is considered Negroid), (3) labins protrudus, 
or lip protrusion (sticking out from base of lip more than .475 of an 
inch is considered Negroid), and (4) skin shade (a shade of brown or 
black exceeding the depth in color of one cup of percolated cofTee (in a white 
cup) with one teaspoon of pure cream will be considered Negroid). Any 
two of these features will make the person a Negro in the eyes of the 
United States government. By administering this exam and locating the 
multiracial people, and then by finally placing these people in their proper 
places, we will be taking another giant step forward in protecting our 
Black people. Some feeble-minded person may be taken aback by this 
suggestion — saying that it lacks resi)ect for human values — but I strongly 
disagree, as I'm sure you do. This idea was formulated in my mind 
for one reason — to help our country and all its citizens. 

But I do not think that shipping all Negroes back to Africa is either 
practical or in the best interests of all people concerned. So I propose 
that we allow twenty thousand average Negroes to remain in America 
and that we let them live in the five northern counties of Mississippi. 
The Whites living there will be properly reimbursed and resettled in the 
place of their choice at the expense of the U.S. government. Here in these 
counties our children and our grandchildren could some day see a part of 
"living Americana." In this cultural center-type area, with the money our 
Black citizens leave behind, I propose we organize a school that teaches 
the Blacks in the counties "the true Black heritage of America." Special 
classes could be held to teach the dialect of the American Negro (words 
such as "massuh," "yessuh," etc.). Furthermore, aid from the Department 
of Agriculture would be forthcoming in the form of cottonseed. Then 
the twenty thousand Blacks set up in this living heritage center could 
play any number of roles, being trained as chauffers, bus boys, butlers, 
cotton farmers, factory workers, slum dwellers, etc. A fence could be 
built around these five counties and admission of $1.00 per adult and $.50 



20 The Green Caldron 

per child under twelve could be diarged to those Whites who would like 
to see our cultural heritage. (The money could be used to help maintain 
"Black Americanaland.") I'm sure no one would object to the establish- 
ment of this cultural center, because it is our duty to teach our children 
our liistory. When the original number of Blacks grows to twenty-five 
tliousand, I suggest that the excess five thousand be allowed to go to 
their country in Africa. 

Some of my friends have asked me about the expense and time in- 
volved in moving our Black brethren to Africa. Knowing that all .Americans 
will do their utmost for the cause of democracy and peace, I propose that 
all American ships invoke a moratorium on commercial shipping for three 
months — those three months being June, July, and August when the weather 
is most favorable in the mid-Atlantic. I hereby submit, for dose scruti- 
nization, the final phase of my solution to the problems of the Negroes. 
All ships (civilian and armed forces) should return to their U.S. ports. 
Upon returning, all but the essential navigational gear should be removed 
and left in waterfront warehouses. Calculating the average Negro to be 
five feet, eight inches, and weighing one hundred sixty-five pounds, I 
suggest that the ships be outfitted with bed-racks measuring six feet long 
and two feet wide. The interiors of all ships should contain as many of 
these as they will hold, and the decks should be outfitted in the same way 
(remembering that the relocation process will take place in the summer 
months when a number of Negroes can also be placed outside without 
fear of extremely inclement weather). Calculating each U.S. aircraft car- 
rier to be capable of carrying 500,000 Negroes at one time, each destroyer 
capable of carrying 175,(XX), and each battleship capable of carrj-ing 350.0(X) 
we should have no trouble completing this project within the three months, 
provided that we get all civilian ships also. Finally, I ofTer the following 
ports of emigration for tlie Blacks with the areas they cover enclosed in 
parentheses: Boston (New England), New York City and Philadelphia 
(Mid-Atlantic States), Baltimore and Newport News, Va. (the South- 
east), Houston and New Orleans (the Deep South and lower Mississippi 
River Valley), Los Angeles and San Francisco (the Far West and the 
Great Plains), Seattle and Tacoma (the Pacific Northwest), Milwaukee. 
Chicago, Detroit, and Cleveland (the Northern Great Plains, the Middle 
West, and the Ohio River Valley), and Honolulu (Alaska and Hawaii). 

This, then, is my plan for our American problem. Our wonderful de- 
mocracy is no place for the anarchy that has rocked our cities in the 
pa,st. Our Black friends have a terrible problem of fitting into and com- 
peting in our society. By my proposal, we will eliminate the Negro's 
sense of frustration and helplessness. I have deep feelings and convictions 
about our Black citizens, and by issuing this paf>er I hope to show others 
my concern for the colored people of our country. 



1 



September, 1968 21 

The Black people and the White people have different cultures, and 
different cultures should be separated and allowed to grow and mature 
by themselves. Some shortsighted people may say we are just expelling 
the Negroes and causing them undue hardship, but we will be creating 
a better understanding between the races and the cultures. The Blackmen 
have the right to develop their own culture with all its primitive art and 
crafts without exploitation and competition from their White brothers. 
I'm not, however, closed to suggestions any educated person can come 
up with. If he can find a way to cut the cost of my project, I know our 
government would like to hear it, since it will absorb all the costs of the 
program. 

Some of my best friends are Black and it will be hard to see them 
leave. I'll sorely miss seeing "Old Glory" flying victoriously over the 
Olympic games because our Negro athletes (all naturally co-ordinated) 
will be gone, and I'll miss that good old New Orleans Negro jazz also. 
Even more personally, I'll really miss my chauffer and butler, but sac- 
rifices must be made, and I'm not the kind of person to retard the quest 
for democracy and peace in the United States. 



Television's New Problems 

Sam p. Moreno 

Rhetoric 102 

THE NEW MATERIAL AND IDEAS NOW PRESENTED ON 
television can be considered crude, obscene, or irreverent according 
to Time magazine. The television networks are having difficulties 
in regulating this new material without causing conflict with the perform- 
ers, most of them comedians, who are presenting it. 

The topics for this new kind of humor are drawn from modern life, 
but our society's outdated views and sensibilities have prevented them 
from being aired openly. An example of this humor is a routine done 
by Flip Wilson, a Negro artist. He asks himself, "Should I do any racial 
material? Why not? Why shouldn't I say to you, 'We've got to do some- 
thing about the Indians?'" Later in the same routine he refers to the 
race riots. "I got this suit in Cleveland, right out of the store window." 

On the Johnny Carson Show, which seems to be a meeting ground 
for many of the "new-breed" comics, Wilson portrayed a newlywed couple 
on their honeymoon night. The bride says wonderingly, "Oh Harry, are 



22 The Green Caldron 

we really married?" Harry leeringly replies, "You're going to find out 
in a minute when I get this shoelace untied." 

Another example of society's outdated views is obviously evident in the 
analogy made by Desmond Morris: "The newspa[)ers don't mind printing a 
word describing something that shoots death, but if it shoots life, they won't 
have it." This statement was made by Morris on the Carson show with ref- 
erence to the word "penis," which Morris uses in his book The Naked Ape. 

Society not only disapproves of words pertaining to sex organs but to 
other "filthy," suggestive, explosive words like white slavery, pornography. 
and narcotics. For some unknown reason, the words murder, robbery, and 
blackmail are accepted by the censors. 

In one case, the censors, instead of accomplishing their objective, only 
provided the Smothers Brothers with more material. In this skit where 
Tommy Smothers and Elaine May portrayed a pair of rookie censors, the 
word arm was substituted for the word breast. "But won't that sound funny ?" 
asked Tommy. "My heart beats wildly in my arm whenever you are near." 

Sex is not the only sensitive topic that entertainers are integrating into 
their routines. Politics is also a favorite. A song writer. Pete Seeger, was 
blacklisted in 1955 by the networks for not testifying before the House 
Un-American Activities Committee. Recently he was permitted to appear 
on television ; to the producers he little more than mentioned his new song, 
"Waist Deep in The Big Muddy," with its obvious reference to President 
Johnson and the Vietnam War, and it was banned. They objected to these 
lines in particular: 

A' 0711 cz'ery time I read the papers 
that old jeelin' comes on, 
We're waist deep in the Big Muddy 
And the big jool says to push on. 

The current ideas presented by various religions serve as another source 
of material for the entertainers. Ron Carey bills himself as "The Foremost 
Catholic Comedian" in the world. His satire (of television cartoon shows) 
features "Super Priest," who is faster than a second collection, and "Wonder 
Nun," who fights the oncoming bullets with her magic beads. 

Like the other topics of potential attack, religion is also protected by the 
censors from irreverence. A skit which received severe criticism from the 
censors was designed by the Smothers Brothers. Dick asked Tom if he 
knew what Easter was all alx)ut. "Sure," Tommy answers, "It's the day 
Jesus Christ rose from his tomb." "I'm proud of you," Dickie replies. And 
Tommy continues, "If he sees his shadow, he has to go back in again for 
six weeks." 

A skit develoix;d by Dan Rowan and Dick Martin also met unfavorable 
comment from the critics. Posing as a newscaster of the future. Rowan 
reports, "With marriage in the Church recently sanctioned, the archbishop 



September, 1968 23 

and his lovely bride, the former Sister Mary Catherine said, 'This time it's 
for keeps!"' 

In a specific situation the television network enlisted a rabbi, a priest, and 
a minister to pass judgment on a routine by the Smothers Brothers. The 
setting was the Garden of Eden where Tommy was stopped from biting the 
forbidden apple by a booming voice, "That's a no-no." Irreverence was the 
verdict, two to one. 

The problems of the television censors are growing because of the use of 
this controversial material. Don Rickles, taking the role of a crude and often 
rude critic, presents a special problem. For years, television would not touch 
him with a "ten foot boom." At the insistence of Joey Bishop and Johnny 
Carson, however, Rickles was unmuzzled and allowed to fire away. 

To be dishonored in Holh^vood by Rickles seems to be an honor, and Don 
does not miss anyone. He refers to Bob Newhart as "Johnny Carson's 
warm-up." "Why is he here? Is the war over?" was Rickles' response to 
the appearance of Bob Hope. "Come right in Frankie," Rickles barks at 
Sinatra. "Make yourself at home. Hit somebody." Turning on Dean Martin 
he snipes, "What do we need Italians for, all they do is keep flies off our 
fish." Spotting Sammy Davis Jr., he cries, "Look at him! You can always 
tell a Negro. Throw a broom on the floor and see him grab it." 

Mr. Warmth, as Carson calls him, claims he has a "sixth sense" about the 
fine line between good-natured ribbing and offensive ridicule. Who can get 
angrj^ with a guy who says, "I've never met a man I didn't dislike"? 

Don Rickles is the exception to the rule that the young people in any 
type of work are the ones who are thinking of new ideas. Television has 
the problem of trv'ing to handle these new ideas and at the same time provide 
family entertainment that will reach every member. The Smothers Brothers 
say that the young people in the country want this type of entertainment and 
that there are only a few artists willing to try. 



Whe #krtrbhonk 

INSTRUCTOR'S NOTE: This paragraph was written in response to an 
impromptu assignment. The object was to persuade a particular audience — in 
this case, a cowboy with a tatoo — to buy a certain product 

Hey you I You with the tattoo ! You probably think that a real man wouldn't wear 
a deodorant, right? Wrong! Have you ever stopped to think about what your horse 
thinks of you? If you become offensive, even your faithful mount, a cowboy's best friend, 
will shun you, for there are limits to the punishment even your horse can take. Remem- 
ber, a horseless cowboy isn't any good to anyone. And think how the gals will react to 
a man whose odor can scare a horse away. Yes sir, that's why even a real man like you 
needs a deodorant, and Ancient Leather is the best deodorant to buy. Available in one- 
shot cartridges guaranteed to fit any make of gun. Ancient Leather will keep you dry 
even in Death Valley. 

— MAKK SHISHIDA 



24 The Green Caldron 



Rhet As Writ 



[Lincoln] was willing to assume the tremendous responsibilities of being the leader 
of a nation instead of quietly stepping aside and letting someone else solve the problems 
of the country. He could have led a nice peaceful life with everyday problems, but mul- 
tiplied his troubles enormously so as to make the U.S. a better place for people to live. 



The Negroes are equal by the fact that God made them, but in this country a higher 
power enacted a law (Emancipation Proclamation) which makes God's work legal. 



[From a theme on censorship] : After all wouldn't it sound strange if there was a 
sceen about a man who had just found the person who raped and killed his wife and 
cattle, and he said, "Crummy buttons on you, you dirty wombat," and then peacefully 
walked away? 



The good commercial is keyed to hit below the belt, to attack the most \-ulnerable 
place, the adult ego, and because it is so directed it produces the world of six year olds. 



Yeafs favorite dream is to live alone in a cabin just as Henry Walden once did. 



[Leslie Fiedler] proved that Uncle Tom showed pornography without sex because 
the exploited member was again being exposed. 



The atmosphere was filled with shouts of laughter and occasional moaning from 
the town drunk who was plastered on the floor. 



After Mr. Gradgrind [in Dickens' Hard Times] realized his failure to teach Sissy 
Jupe "Facts," he discovered she was of use around his house even though she was 
not his kind of model. 



Anne Frank's epic diary is another example of adapting to the hardships of living 
under extreme conditions. Surviving in a whorehouse while hiding from the Nazis 
could only be done by keeping rigid control of existing materials through leadership. 



Nowadays it's taken for granite that if a person is to succeed in life, he must go to 
college. 



AWARDS 

THE CALDRON will continue its policy of giving awards to the 
writers of the five best themes in each issue. The winners will be 
selected by the votes of the members of the freshmen rhetoric staff. 

The schedule of awards is as follows: 

First: Fifteen dollars and five dollars worth of books 

Second: Ten dollars and five dollars worth of books 

Third: Five dollars and five dollars worth of books 

Fourth: Five dollars worth of books 

Fifth: Five dollars worth of books 



We wish to thank the following bookstores for their generosity 
in providing prizes: 

Campus Book Store 
Follett's College Book Store 
lUini Union Book Store 



mmm 



X, 



.HE Green Caldron is published each September and Feb- 
ruary by the Rhetoric Staff at the University of Illinois. 
Material is chosen from themes and examinations written by 
freshmen in the University. Permission to publish is obtained 
for full themes, including those published anonymously. Parts 
of themes, however, may be published at the discretion of the 
committee in charge. 

Members of the committee in charge of the green caldron 
are Rosemarie Abendroth, Lome Forstner, Donald Rude, 
Melvin Storm, and Jeremy Wild, editor. 



Copyright 1969 by THE GREEN CALDRON Staff 



pubusueo by the r. f. colwku. printing c0u>. 
Champaign, Ilunois 



IT 



mimm 



A MAGAZINE OF 
FRESHMAN WRITING 

The Contributors and The Winners 2 

yicki Hamende 3 A Play on Brotherhood and It Ain't 
Trite 

Stephen Thomas 6 An Appendage of Eyes 

Polly Mayland 7 I Do Call Her "Mother" 

John Hart 9 The Hippies' Declaration of 
Independence 

Patricia Jane Huffman 11 The Oedipal Pattern in The Fire 

Next Time 

15 Rhet As Writ 

Maria Braverman 16 Guess Who's Coining to Dinner 

Robert Cooper 17 Skipping Kindergarten 

Don Kurtz 19 The Tie That Binds 

20 tSlft ^keUi^baak 

Maria Braverman 21 The Battered Bard 

Harry M. Tiebout, III 22 Jesns Christ and the American Eagle 



Volume 37, Number 2 
February, 1969 
University of lllitiois 



The Contributors 

Vicki Huineiule — Urudley Cuiiiiii. H.S. 

Stephen Thomas — W alseka H.S. 

Folly Muyland — Luokport Central H.S. 

John Hart — Uecatur H.S. 

Patricia Jane Huffman — (Jarhundule Conini. U.S. 

Maria Rraverman — Mather H.S.. (Chicago 

Robert Cooper — IN'iles East H.S., Skokie 

Don Kurtz — Lriiana H.S. 

Harry M. Tiebout, HI — UrI.ana H.S. 



The Winners 



The folluwinii urc llii- Miiincrs of the prizes for llir b<->( tln-iiii-" in tlir 
Sepu-mber i^sur uf THE CALDRON: 



First : Sutan Fitzheiiry, A Land Wilhoul rri-t/i-I-Iti-iiiicrs 

Second: Duaiie Meyer, An Ideal Solution 

Tliird: I'.nroly ii Hiierhlr. (IhunfcinK StnHi-« 

Fourlh: Max J, Uarrer, Zebca 

Fifth: Louii Mieper, A (lonteniporarv Sorratic Dialogue 



A Play on Brotherhood 
and It Ain't Trite 

ViCKi Hamende 
Rhetoric 102 

[Assignment: Discuss a single idea appearing in one or more essay (s) 
by E. M. Forster.] 

[Sojt sounds of morning slowly drift from valley to valley. Movements 
become whispers: whispers reveal the beginning of day. A cool, thin air 
of peace quietly surrounds the soul of mankind. And no one fears the 
wind, for it lightly becomes a breeze. The gentleness of brotherhood reigns 
upon the land.] 

[A whistling out of the night] "That's why the lady, the beautiful lady, 
was a tramp." [Whistle. Hum. (Clear throat) Whistle. Clomp. Clomp. 
Tweet!] 

"That's why — hey man, better watch how you bend over that rail. 
Somethin' might happen what's not bein' planned for such as you toppling 
into the cool blue." 

"Yea, yea — go on man. It's a free country, free bridge. I got free 
bendin' privileges, too." 

"Hey man, you got somthin' on your leg looking much as it's like 
heavy and iron. Is that for helpin' you stand up straight, or might it 
be a device by which if you was to very accidentally fall into the water 
you would go down with the fishes never to return again and all that?" 

"See — I got this broke leg is all and I got it chained together instead 
of casted together is all. Now go on — you're givin' pain to my broke leg." 

"You sure it's a leg what's broke 'stead of say maybe a heart or some- 
thin'? Hey man, you don't mean to tell me you're thinkin' of jumpin' 
into the water and what is that — endin' it all, just like that?" 

"I don't mean to tell you nothin'. Just go on, that's all. Like I said, 
it's a free country. I'm free, man. Only I'm gonna be freer, soon as you 
take it upon yourself to butt out." 

"Okay, okay, so I'll butt out." [Whistle. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.] 
"Say, let's start this over again. I know you're gonna jump, and you 
know I know, and it's a free country, so I got a free right to talk with 
you, don't I? So let's talk, man. Seein' as how you ain't got no pressin' 
obligations or nothin'." 

"I don't wanna talk." 

3 



4 The Grefn Caldron 

"Look — let tne talk, hey? Vou just stand there and bend and I'll talk. 
See I'm lonely so I wanna talk. That's all. You can jump whenever you 
want, but let me talk first. Sorta like a dyin' man givin' someone else a 
last wish — get it?" 

"So — talk, fool." 

"Sure, sure. How 'bout a story. Not one of them tales, but this is a 
true one. See — I once had this friend. A guy, you know? Real good 
guy. We was great buddies. Had a lot of laughs — know what I mean? 
Swell guy. Real smart, too. Lots of education. Met him at a bar. Smart 
guy — could really hold his booze, too. Better than me. Well, he'd buy 
a round and I'd buy a round and he'd and I'd and man, pretty soon I 
was out. I mean really out. Well, this guy — swell guy — see he took me 
to his home. Big place — real smart lookin'. Gave me a couple a aspirins, 
plopped an ice bag on my head, and tucked me into a warm bed. Swell 
bed. Man, I musta slept for a week. And when I weren't sleepin' we 
was talkin'. He was a smart talker, too. Lots of ideas 'bout things — you 
know the kind. 'Cept he didn't make me feel as dumb as I am, you know? 
I mean like he asked me stuff like why I did this or why I liked that. Like he 
was really interested in what I was thinkin' — you know what I mean ? \\'ell, 
then he gets me this job, see. Swell guy. Swell job. Construction work — 
I like buildin' back what's been wrecked — ^you know what I mean? Good 
pay. He had some stuffy job, but he wasn't stuffy. I'd see him often — for a 
beer, you know. He'd tell me 'bout his family — swell gang. I never had none 
so I played like they was mine, too. Like he and I was brothers and friends, 
too. I never had a friend before him. I told him that, too, and he said hey 
man, you gotta be a bud to have a bud. You still listenin' there ? Good, man. 

"Well, this friend of mine, see he knew lots of smart words about friend- 
ship and stuff like that. He said he once read where some guy said, 'If I had 
to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I 
should have the guts to betray my country.' * That meant like he held friend- 
ship higher than anythin' else. Like liavin' a friend and bein' loyal to him was 
more important than everythin'. 

"He said bein' a friend was believin' in someone else and bein' honest with 
people so they'll be honest. You gotta be able to rely on people, and that's 
not possible you know unless there's a 'natural warmth.' Like you both gotta 
like each other truly. He said, 'One must be fond of people and trust them if 
one is not to make a mess of life, and it is therefore essential that they should 
not let one down.' Real pretty words. The truth, too. Like if you let a friend 
down things will get messed up. Same if he lets you down. He said friendship 
ain't just for people but for countries, too. He told me 'bout some paperboy 
what left his papers in front of Parliament— that's in London — and got a beer, 
and the people took the papers and left money for 'em. But in that Parlia- 
ment it's like the opposite. 'Stead of trust they got 'suspicion, treachery, and 



february. 1969 5 

armaments.' That's like they're always talkin' 'bout not trustin' and havin' 
wars. Real sad. 

"He said we have to accept people for what they are. Like he's stuffy 
and I'm dumb. What the hell? We're both men, man. He said, 'Tolerance, 
good temper, and sympathy are no longer enough.' They should be. They 
really should. 

"He said we gotta share everyone else's sorrow and happiness. Like help 
a guy when he's down and keep him up when he's up. We gotta tr\- to 
understand his feelin's, you know? Like help 'im solve his problems and all. 

"Then we gotta know just what we believe in and we gotta help others 
find something what's stable. He said like, 'One has to formulate a creed of 
one's own.' Like we gotta pick what's right and what's wrong and stick by 
the right. He said, 'Naked I came into the world, naked I shall go out of it! 
I am naked under my shirt, whatever its colour.' Like the only thing what 
matters in life is havin' friends. Things like cars and color T.V.'s ain't 
lastin'. Like we can't hide behind masks. We gotta speak out — we gotta get 
what we want and do what we want. 

" 'We whisper in the corner of a world which is full of other noises, and 
louder ones.' He said that. Pretty, huh? Like we all need to work together 
to fix up the mess things get in. Like there are people all over what want to 
help. Some are already at it. But there's lots workin' against it all. But man 
does everythin'. So if a man can make a mess, another man can work it out. 
Like everyone dependin' on everyone else. 

"He said the whole deal means that man needs a brotherhood, you know? 
Kids, women, men, old folks, everyone workin' at once and all the time. And 
before you know it the world gets better. Swell idea. Swell guy. A brother- 
hood of man — like real friendship. Like forgetting yourself but not everyone 
else. Swell guy." 

[Whistle. (Clear throat) Hum.] 

"Yea, yea, man." 

[Hum. Hum.] 

"Say — naw, forget it." 

[Hum. Hum.] 

"Say — well, what— you know — where is this guy? You know — this swell 
guy? If he's so smart, where is he?" 

"Man, I killed him." 

"Naw, not really?" 

"Not really, naw." 

"That's good. I mean— I feel like I know the guy, you kniow. Like maybe 
I'd met him or somethin'." 

"Maybe you have, man, maybe you have." 

"Say — how 'bout a hand with this chain. Like — my leg's not really broke, 
see?" 



^ The Green Caldron 

"Sure. Wanna beer?" 

"Sure, why not?" 

[Clomp-Clomp. Clomp-Clomp. Clomp-Clomp. Clomp-Clomp. ] 

"Wait— hold it." 

[Splash! Tweet!] 

[Clomp. Clomp. Clomp. Clomp.] 

FOOTNOTE 

'All quoted material is from Forster's "What I Believe" and "Does Culture Matter?" 
in Ten Contemporary Thinkers, ed. Victor E. Amend and Leo T. Hendrick, (1964), pp. 

9&-ni. 



An Appendage of Eyes 

Stei'hen Thomas 

Rhetoric 102 

[Improuiptu] 

BELLADONNA DILATES THE PUPILS OF THE EYES SO 
greatly that ordinary daylight rushes in and explodes against the brain. 
Morrisson dropped it last night and was still experiencing its effects 
today at noon. And the effects were shattering. 

Pausing before lunch to smash out chords on the piano, he ground out 
dissonant, spacy globs, which were meaningful only to him. He explained 
that he could only see things very far away while he squinted to look at the 
piano inches from his hands. Actually, his eyes were completely divorced from 
his body, which had become a mere appendage to those eyes. The real 
Morrisson might have been a surrealistic jumble with a leg improperly 
affixed, an extra arm, a nonsensical form, and unblinking eyes with those 
large pupils in a fixed glare. 

His eyes were those of a man in shock, madly defying Morrisson's 
attempts to co-ordinate them with his conversation and facial expressions. 
At the dinner table he shook frantically ; we tried to communicate, but the 
answers seemed to reverberate from a source other than Morrisson — per- 
haps someone just beyond his shoulders. Attempts to steer the conver- 
sation from his incoherent chronicle of the preceding night ultimately failed. 
Morrisson was unshakeable, much like a devout Catholic bent upon the 
conversion of all the infidels about him. No matter what we said, the talk 
always returned to religious pieties. Morrisson droned on about his high. 
"My God! It's really .scary . . . I've been so spaced out. My eyes don't 
hurt, but I looked in the mirror and they're so swelled and bloodshot!" 



February, 1969 7 

Finally, Morrisson did recognize his own madness and fought against 
it. Grasping for something to re-affirm his consciousness, he felt compelled 
to fight against his mind and force it back into some niche. But his mind 
would not be bothered. Large pupils, he claimed, were a mark of beauty. 
Not convincingly, he smirked away the notion those damned pupils might 
fail to shrink. The glare never changed and we, his friends, suddenly felt 
sinister for having attempted to coerce him into withdrawal. It was futile, 
anyway. 

Morrisson dumped bag after bag of sugar into his Coca-Cola. He liked 
the piercing sweetness. "I was talking to somebody — I thought, but I 
looked and nobody was there . . . my goddam eyes!" 

Morrisson was not frightened. He was too experienced. He was worried 
about his eyes and the length of his high. He was infatuated with his 
delirium, but he wanted it to end and he talked feverishly in a search for 
help. One could imagine his brain fragmented into the thousand bits of a 
broken mirror, plastered against his skull, lights glancing everywhere. 

And we looked at Morrisson and knew nothing was there — just those 
eyes. ... 



I Do CaU Her "Mother" 

Polly Mayland 

Rhetoric 102 

DID YOU EVER NOTICE THESE DAYS THAT IT'S AL- 
ways Mother and Daddy, not Mom and Dad or Mommy and Daddy 
or Mother and Father, but Mother and Daddy. At least that's the 
way it is in my family. I guess that's because my mother is not the "Mom's 
home-cooked meals" type. You know, the fat roily kind of woman who 
always wants you to eat another piece of pie. But when she hits you, 
you wonder if there isn't three hundred pounds behind that palm. Phys- 
ically she may pack a wallop, but mentally she's what Doug, the vale- 
dictorian of our high school class, calls a "pseudo-intellectual," because 
even though she sees no symbolism in Portrait of the Artist, Mother be- 
lieves that she understands it. She's a wife who hates to do the laundry, 
but wouldn't miss her honorable daily tea ritual for anything. Since I've 
never felt that I respected her I've wondered why I call her such a respect- 
ful name. 

"Firm but loving" was the key phrase in the child psych books around 
our house. But since Mother reads word by word, not phrase by phrase, 
I think she closed the book after reading "firm." There was never a threat 
of "I'll tell your father," because he wouldn't have done anything anyway; 



S The Grern Caldron 

he never could spank me. Nor did she ever hand me the line aljout getting 
out tlie old strap either. She just used the hack-of-the-hand or the slap- 
on-the-bottom technicjue that would make me cry. I remember when I 
was too young to know any swear words and after Mother finished knock- 
ing me around a hit, 1 would say the worst thing I could think of — "Throw 
up on you!" Of course the trick, according to Sally my next-door neighbor, 
was to say it just soft enough so your mother couldn't understand. I 
would say it so softly that I would just be thinking loud, but I inevitably 
received another slap for talking back. The Old Baby Man, Dr. Six)ck, 
says that children respect the parent who disciplines them. I don't believe 
it; at least I didn't use to. 

One thing I knew for sure about my mother was that she was a pseudo- 
intellectual. I didn't know that just because Doug told me; I could see 
it myself. Every day at eleven, when I came home from high school for 
dinner, and after her strenuous trip to the grocery store to buy six items 
so that she could get a ticket and continue playing the A & P "Match 
the Product Game," she sat on the couch with the sun beating in on her 
back and ate Camembert cheese on melba toast (she even ate the moldy 
rind on the cheese and liked it). All the while she drank her special 
blend of Orange-Pekoe tea in one of her fifteen tea cups. I gave her 
eleven of those cups. But I only gave her things like that when I had 
to: Cliristmas, birthdays, Mother's Day, and Fourth of July, you know. 
Anyway, while she did this she read books, J)r. Zhivayo, War and Peace 
(which she read twice to find out who Natasha was), and The Brothers 
Kharamotzov during her "aesthetic" Russian period. Then she tried 
Ulysses followed by Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man (even though 
they arc sui)i)o.'»ed to be read in the reverse order). When I was there 
eating my usual egg sandwich with mayonnaise and sliced tomatoes on 
it, drinking a lialf-frozen Diet-Kite and watching reruns of The FiKjithy 
on T.V., she used to tell me about her latest volume. I remember her 
spending ages explaining that James Joyce's books didn't contain any 
symbolism. My nwther jiaints. and she says that she never put anything 
deep or hidden in her paintings, so this symbolism business must be read 
into the book by critics who think they're smart. I would smile, shake 
my head and watch l')avid Jansen escajie successfully from the police again. 
I remember Mrs. Aspel from down the road asking who the heck Oscar 
Wilde was, and Mother recalling that he had written The Iniportanee oi 
Being Earnest. That was something. Mother knowing that ; I always liked 
that play. 

Even if she did remember who Oscar Wilde was, she didn't do her 
duty as a wife and mother — she hates to do laundry. When I was six- 
teen my mother decided it was time that I learned to wash clothes. So 
bag in hand, she rushed me to the laundromat, shoved twelve quarters 



February, 1969 9 

in my pocket and left nie to learn. For a dollar a week my mother hired 
me for a maid before school and a dishwasher after dinner. On Satur- 
days I would stay home and scrub floors while she and Daddy went to 
Chicago. Worst of all was her cooking, when she did it. Everj'thing had 
Sucaryl, wheat germ, and yogurt in it. even the tomato soup. We had 
scallops boiled in lime juice once which tasted like rubber bands dipped 
in lemonade; it was a typical Alother-dish. And Daddy was a meat-and- 
potatoes man before he married. 

But I have to admit Mother's been doing pretty well since I left home 
for college. The floors are almost clean and the dishes are washed. She- 
even makes T-bone steak and baked potatoes for dinner now and then. 
And the Christmas turkey dressing wasn't the traditionally putrid nut- 
meats and apricots this year. She still knows about Oscar and she doesn't 
knock me around anymore. She won't read Brave Nciv World though — 
says it makes her sick. But then it makes me sick too — thinking about 
babies in jars. Mother still drinks her tea and eats her cheese, but 1 
still eat egg sandwiches whenever I can. She sends her laundry out now 
that I've left home, but I pay someone to do my ironing. She called last 
night and said she was making something for my birthday, but was afraid 
to give it to me. Do you suppose she thinks that I'm critical of her or 
something? But how can I be critical of someone the Old Baby Man 
says I respect? Maybe he's right; I do call her "Mother." 



The Hippies' 
Declaration of Independence 

John Hart 
Rhetoric 102 

WHEN IN THE COURSE OF PSYCHEDELIC HAPPENINGS, 
it becomes necessary for one high people to dissolve the social bands 
which have connected them with another, and to assume among the 
freaks of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of 
Nature and of Nature's Guru entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions 
of Mankind requires that they should declare the gripes which impel them 
to the separation. 

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all Hippies are created 
high, that they are endowed by their Guru with certain unalienable rights, 
that among these are Love, Drugs, and the Pursuit of Sex. That to secure 
these rights, Be-Ins are instituted among Hippies, deriving their freaky 



It The Green Caldron 

powers from tlie consent of the freaked. That whenever any form of Great 
Society becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the Hippies 
to alter or aboHsh it, and to institute a new Society, laying its foundation 
on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them 
shall seem most liUely to effect their Love-ins and Trips. Prudence, 
indeed, will dictate that Great Societies long established should not be 
changed for light and transient causes; and accordingly all experience hath 
shown tliat Hippies are more disposed to getting busted, while getting 
busted is sufferable, than to right themselves by abolishing the Society to 
which they are accustomed. But when a long train of abuses and usurpa- 
tions, pursuing invariably the same Object, evinces a design to reduce tiiem 
under absolute Conformity, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw 
off such Society, and to provide new Guards for their future security. 
Such has been the patient sufferance of these Hippies, and such is now the 
necessity which constrains them to alter their former Society. The history 
of Hippiedom is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, at the 
hands of the Government and the General Public, both having in direct 
object the establishment of an absolute Conformity among these Hippies. 
To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world. 

They have refused their assent to Demonstrations, the most wholesome 
and necessary for the public good. 

They have dissolved peaceful demonstrations repeatedly, for opposing 
with manly firmness their invasions on the rights of Hippies. 

They have obstructed the Administration of Justice, by the misrepre- 
sentation of Truth, and by sadistic mistreatment of all Hippies taken captive. 

They have erected a multitude of New Offices and sent hither swarms 
of Officers to harass our People, and eat out our substance. 

They have affected to render the Military independent of and superior 
to Flower Power. 

They have kept among us, in times of Peace, Police without reason. 

They have combined with others to subject us to a jurisdiction foreign 
to our opinions, and unacknowledged I)y our beliefs; giving their assistance 
and forces to .'Kcts of ridiculous legislation : 

For (|uartering large bodies of Police among us: 

For [irotecting them, by a mock Trial, from punishment for any Murders 
or Injuries which they should commit on the Hippies: 

For depriving us of our Freedom of Long Hair: 

For susiK-nding our Love-Ins, abolishing our most valuable Pot, and 
altering fundamentally our Form of Life: 

In every stage of these Oppressions We have petitioned for Redress in 
the most humble terms : Our rejicated Petitions have been answered only 
by repeated injury. 

Nor have we been wanting in attentions to the Great Society. We 



I-t'bruary, 1969 U 

have warned its members from time to time of attempts by them to extend 
unwarrantable jurisdiction over us. We have appealed to their native 
Love and grooviness, and we have conjured them by the ties of rock 
music and psychedelic posters to disavow these usurpations, which would 
inevitably interrupt our connections and correspondence. They have been 
deaf to the voice of Love and grooviness. We must, therefore, acquiesce in 
the necessity, which denounces our Separation, and hold them, as we hold 
the rest of the world. Enemies in War, in Peace Friends. 

WE, THEREFORE, the Hippies of the World, In General Highness, 
appealing to the supreme Dr. Leary for the rectitude of our intentions, do, 
in the name and by the authority of all good freaks, solemnly PUBLISH 
AND DECLARE that these United Hippies are, and of right ought to 
be, FREE AND INDEPENDENT HIPPIES; that they are absolved 
from the Allegiance to conformity, and that all connection between us 
and the Great Society is, and ought to be, totally dissolved ; and that as 
FREE AND INDEPENDENT HIPPIES, we have full power to make 
Love, not War, contract Venereal Disease, establish Free Drugs, and to 
do all the other Acts and Things which HIPPIES may of right do. And 
for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection 
of our Gurus, we mutually pledge to each other our Love, our Drugs, 
and our sacred Beads. 



The Oedipal Pattern in 
The Fire Next Time 

Patricia Jane Huffman 
Rhetoric 102 

THE DESIRE OF THE SON TO KILL THE FATHER AND 
marry the mother is an archetype which occurs frequently in litera- 
ture. This desire, whether conscious or unconscious, is termed the 
"Oedipal complex" after the early Greek play, Oedipus Rex, in which the 
protagonist unknowingly kills his father and marries his mother. The ten- 
sion which causes this desire results from the rivalry between father and 
son for the afYections of the mother. Freud explains this desire further 
by saying the father is the one who threatens not only the son's sexual 
relations with his mother, but all of the son's early sexual pleasure, for 
it is often the duty of the father to bring the son to that renunciation of 
sexual freedom which society demands.^ 

Art offers many variations of the Oedipal pattern. Hamlet hates his 
uncle instead of his father, for Claudius has won the attentions of Gertrude 



12 The Green Caldron 

and is therefore a rival with Hainlet lor her affections. In D. H. Lawrences 
Sons and Lovers, the son hates his father and expresses a desire to live 
forever with his mother: "But I shan't marry, mother. 1 shall live with 
you and we'll have a servant." And in The Graduate. Benjamin ful- 
fills a part of the Oedipal fantasy in his relationship with Mrs. Kobinson. 
Although she is not his real mother, she is the same age as his mother, 
and her closest friend; Benjamin directs his feelings toward a mother 
figure rather than toward his real mother. 

The Fire Next Time presents a modified Oedipal pattern. Hatred and 
hostility exist between father and son. The father feels threatened. In 
the situation Baldwin describes, there is no need for the father to attempt 
to emasculate his son because of this sense of rivalry, for the father 
Jcnows white society will do this for him. (The Oedipal complex is not 
an inflexible psychological law which demands that all sons kill their 
fathers. It merely suggests that the desire exists — there are numerous 
substitutes for murder of the father as a means of coping with him.) Al- 
though Baldwin openly expresses a desire to kill his father, he does not 
ultimately confront him by murdering him. Instead, he overcomes his 
father by using the church as an instrument of jx)wer over him, as will 
be seen. 

As a child, Baldwin associates the white world with power. The white 
man's word is believed above the black man's, and the wliite man forces 
Negro soldiers to do the most unpleasant work. If a young Negro boy 
could become a part of white society, he might acquire some of the power 
it wields over other Negjoes, including his father. Baldwin's desire to 
compete with the white man can therefore be interpreted as a desire to 
challenge his father's authority by becoming more jwwerful than he ; when 
Baldwin tells his father he can do anything a white boy can do, the father 
is afraid, not only because his child risks self-destruction in attempting to 
become a part of white society, but because of a basic, Oedipal fear of 
his son as a rival for power. 

Indications of the tension between father and son are .seen in "Down 
at the Cross : Letter from a Region in My Mind." In an early passage 
Baldwin writes: 

My best friend in high school was a Jew. He came to our house once, 
and afterward my father asked, as he asked about everyone, "Is lie a 
Christian?" — by which he meant "Is he saved?" I really do not know 
whether my answer came out of innocence or venom, but I said coldly, 
"No. He's Jewish." My father slammed me across the face with his 
prcat palm, and in that moment everythinp flooded hack — all tlie hatred 
and all the fear, and the depth of a merciless resolve to kill my father 
rather than allow my father to kill me. . .' 

Baldwin's discnvcrv of the livpocrisy of his father's faith leads to a reali- 
zation of the hypocrisy of the entire Christian religion. He condemns 
Christianity for its falseness: "I really mean that there was no love in the 



February, 1969 13 

church. It was a mask for liatred and self-hatred and despair. The trans- 
figuring power of the Holy Ghost ended when the service ended, and sal- 
vation stopped at the church door. When we were told to love everybody, 
I had thought that that meant everybody. But no. It applied only to those 
who believed as we did, and it did not apply to white people at all (57-8)." 
Baldwin's description of his hatred toward his father, particularly the words 
"flooded back" and "depth," suggests that something leads Baldwin to hate 
his father even before he discovers his hypocrisy. The last phrase, "rather 
than allow my father to kill me," shows that Baldwin feels threatened by 
his father. Baldwin's hatred of his father is an Oedipal hatred, a hatred 
which involves so much guilt that Baldwin uses the excuse of his father's 
hypocrisy as a reason for hating him. 

Baldwin's reaction to the relationship between Elijah Muhammad and 
the women who surround him suggests an Oedipal conflict between father 
and son. Baldwin writes: "He teased the women, like a father, with no 
hint of that ugly and unctuous flirtatiousness I knew so well from other 
churches . . . (87)." Since Baldwin's father is a preacher, perhaps his 
feelings of repulsion at the flirtatiousness of the clergy around women stem 
partly from similar behavior of his father around his mother. This repul- 
sion could be a result of his own Oedipal desire to be flirtatious around 
his mother, ultimately, to marry her. Repulsion could be a device used by 
the son to disguise hate for the rival father. 

Baldwin suggests an Oedipal tie between mother and son in his relation- 
ship with the female minister. When he first meets this woman, she is 
dressed in robes, as one might imagine Mary, mother of Christ — clearly a 
maternal figure. She is approximately the same age as the reader might 
imagine Baldwin's mother. When she asks, "Whose little boy are you?" 
the child replies, "Why, yours," which implies that he views her as a 
mother (44). It is significant that his first relationship with the church 
is through this woman ; a young boy's first physical relationships are al- 
most always with a fondling, caressing mother. Baldwin reacts to her ser- 
mons with adoration : ". . . when this woman had finished preaching, every- 
thing came roaring, screaming, crying out, and I fell to the ground before 
the altar (44)." This scene reminds the reader of the prostrate male falling 
to the ground before his lover, of the traditional kneeling position of the 
male when proposing. Perhaps Baldwin's need for a "gimmick" to place 
himself out of peril (38) is really a need for an aiifectionate, attentive 
mother ; thus, he turns to the female minister. 

Other parts of the Oedipal pattern in The fire Next Time can be in- 
troduced by briefly returning to the Oedipus story. Oedipus' father, Laius, 
attempts to rid himself of the threat of the infant son by piercing the child's 
ankles and instructing a shepherd to abandon him in the wilderness. This 
piercing of the ankles suggests the desire of the father to thwart the sexual 



14 The Green Caldron 

powers of the son, thus, a symbolic castration. Although Baldwin's father 
feels threatened by his son, there is no evidence of any effort to deprive 
the son of his sexual powers. Baldwin implies there is no need for his 
father to attempt to do this because white society accomplishes, or attempts 
to accomplish, the task for him. For example, white American males feel 
threatened by the Negro in the same way a father feels threatened by 
the son ; namely, they view the Negro as a threat to their sexual success. 
Baldwin discusses the need of the American male to feel sexually secure : 
"You must put yourself in the skin of a [black] man . . . who knows 
that the white G.I. has informed the Europeans that he is subhuman (so 
much for the American male's sexual security) ; who does not dance at 
the U.S.O. the night white soldiers dance there . . . (76)" In other 
words, because the white American male does not want the challenge of 
sexual competition presented by the Negro, he forbids him to enter places 
where conflict could occur. Baldwin even suggests that the white man's 
masculinity depends upon a denial of the masculinity of the blacks (105). 
Thus, white society can be viewed collectively as a threatened Oedipal 
father who attempts to rid himself of the threat of the son by forbidding 
the Negro to compete with him sexually. 

In The Fire Next Time Baldwin openly expresses the desire to kill 
his father. Although he does not ultimately do this, his thoughts express 
the desire: "I spent most of my time in a state of repentance for things 
I had vividly desired to do but had not done (52-3)." Society's condem- 
nation of murder might force Baldwin to feel guilty even when dreaming 
of such a murder. Society demands that Baldwin find another way to deal 
with his father. He chooses the church. 

The first significant decision which Baldwin makes in dealing with his 
father is to join a church other than the one in which his father jireaches. 
This decision shows the son's desire to break away from his father, to 
achieve a new, personal status. Baldwin associates his early career as a 
minister with power: "Nothing that has happened to me since equals the 
power and the glory that I sometimes felt when, in the middle of a sermon, 
1 knew that I was somehow, by some miracle, really carrying, as they said, 
'the Word' — when the church and I were one (50)." Baldwin clearly in- 
dicates this power is not only a feeling of {wwer over the congregation, but 
also a feeling of power over his father. He surpasses his father in religious 
fervor: "My youth quickly made me a much bigger drawing card than my 
father. I pushed this advantage ruthlessly, for it was the most effective 
means I had found of breaking his hold over me. ... I could not be 
interrupted — not even by my father. I had immobilized him (48-9)." Since 
society does not allow Baldwin to fulfill his desire to kill his father, he 
overcomes him by surpassing him in his own profession. 

Baldwin's conclusions at the end of The Fire Next Time might not 



February, 1969 15 

seem directly related to the break from his father. But this break is nec- 
essary in order for him to reason, to become more than an internalization 
of his father's standards. Baldwin suggests the basic Oedipal family prob- 
lem must be solved before a man is able to concentrate on other issues, 
to make conclusions at all. He says of his father : "The battle between 
us was in the open, but that was all right ; it was almost a relief. A more 
deadly struggle had begun (55)." This remark shows Baldwin's feeling 
of relief at the expression of long-repressed hatred for his father, a feeling 
of a mind free to think about the struggle of the Negro in America. 

FOOTNOTES 

' Sigmund Freud, A General Introduction to Psychoanalysis (New York, 1924), 
p. 216. 

"'James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time (New York, 1963), p. 54. All subsequent 
references to tliis edition are parenthetical. 



Rhet as Writ 



It v\ould be very cruel to decapitate a person finger by finger. 

* * * 

School was dismissed for the day mostly because the girls had to get their hair 
and odds and ends fixed. 

* * * 

Invective means having a strong force in a certain direction. "Wliat type of 
education do >"ou want for your dear children in these United States?" would be 
a rhetorical, invective conclusion to an argument. 

* * * 

Parents, too, are beginning to look with favor at having relations before marriage. 

* * * 

At this point, I would like to say that as far as value goes, I think the story 

is worthless. Maybe I am putting the horse before tlie cart when I say this, because 
I have not given any evidence to prove it. 

* * * 

Though she disliked her husband, she continued to live with him. Tom was the 
only man that really fit her. 

* * * 

In spite of this objection, John did not lack for mistresses. He had two that 
were public knowledge, and many others that were of private knowledge. 

* * * 

A girl's hips and thighs should taper into her legs. 

* * * 

The "Pill" is almost 100% eflfective. while other forms, other than abortion, 
rate 98% or less. 

* * * 

A person who really wants to go is much more likely to get more out of college 
than anyone else. This does not necessarily mean in the field of having a lot of fun 
and all good times, but in the way of knowledge, wisdom, maturity, and even, fun. 

* * ♦ 

I have an inclined broad in the basement along with a set of weights that I use 
for my purposes. 



26 The Green CaUron 

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner 

Marla Braverman 
Rhetoric 102 

OX THANKSGIVING DAY ALMOST EVERY AMERICAN 
family carves into frozen turkey rolls and scoops out canned cran- 
berries, but few pause to remember the brave settlers" thankfulness 
for their first harvest in a strange new land. Therefore, in order to find 
the true meaning of Thanksgiving, perhaps we should return to that little 
suburb near Plymouth where one of the humble colonists has just returned 
to his tiny cabin after a hard day's toil : 

"I'm home, Prudence." 

"Goodness, James, what on earth is that thing you have in your hand?" 

"Oh, it's just a turkey that my ninepins team won today." 

(Prudence looks at it with disgust.) "\\'ho's going to clean it, anyway?" 

"Aw Prude, it's a prize. And I thought it would be a nice gesture so 
I invited the Placid Bulls to come over next Thursday to share it." 

(Prudence is dumfounded. ) "You did what?" 

"Come on. Prude, they're our neighbors. Besides, we can't eat this big 
bird by ourselves." 

"Honestly, James, sometimes I just don't understand you. Do you 
mean that you invited a bunch of Indians to come over without any con- 
sideration of their bare feet and my clean dirt floor?" 

"Not Indians, dear — Reds. They want to be called Reds. They're very 
touchy about that, you know." 

"Reds, schmeds — they're savages. They can't even lake care of their 
own land while we have already cleared a forest, dammed a stream, and 
got rid of a lot of pesky animals. And we've been here only a year." 

"Aw Prude, didn't they help us when we had the big drought during 
planting time?" 

"Oh sure — it took us two weeks to drain the basement." 

"So they got carried away — you know how rhythmic they are. Once 
they get started with those drums and beads. . ." 

(Prudence is hysterical by this time.) "I don't want Little Bear and 
his damn loincloth near my Charity." 

"For God's sake, Prude, they're only four years old " 

"\\'ell, she's beginning to ask questions anyway. And do you know 
what Miss Faith down at the schoolhouse told the ladies at the husking 
circle?" (She lowers her voice.) "Little Bear actually wants to rattle his 
beads during catechism." 

"But that's just his way to tell his Great Spirit — " 



February. 1969 17 

"It's his Great Spirit, not mine. We should keep those heretics away 
from our children. We should give them bows and arrows and send them 
back to the forest." 

(James absentmindedly muses.) "The New Salem Gazette says they're 
going to have a big fire sale on Main Street tomorrow. Do vou think we 
should take the kids?" 

"Don't change the subject. Besides, the last time we went you were 
sick all the way home." 

(James hastily changes his subject.) "Look dear, I've already invited 
them and I can't go back on my promise." (He tries to be helpful.) "Mrs. 
Bull said she would bake your favorite corn mash." 

(Prudence hesitates for a few moments, then sighs.) "Oh all right, I give 
in. Why did you choose Thursday, anyway?" 

"I thought we could avoid the weekend rush." 

"Well, at least that will give me time to hide the silver. I wonder if 
Charity could fit down the well?" (She glances at James' watch.) "Good- 
ness, James, you better give me that bird and hitch up the horse. You 
don't want us to be late for our prayer meeting. Miss Faith is going to 
present a special prayer to demonstrate our moral support for those poor 
persecuted people back in England." 



Skipping Kindergarten 

Robert Cooper 

Rhetoric 102 

MISS AGATHA BOYD NERVOUSLY ADJUSTED THE SMALL 
garnet ring on her right hand as she commanded her kindergarten 
class to sit around the green circle painted on the wooden floor of 
room 115 in Lincoln School. The assembled group of thirty young children 
laughingly obliged while two boys threw crayons at each other. "Silence," 
cried Miss Boyd, her shrill voice causing the strings on the upright piano 
to vibrate. "Class, please find your assigned partners. We are now going 
to dance to 'Here We Go Loopty-Loo.' " 

A small five year old boy with his left shoe untied walked across the 
diameter of the circle to find his partner, Lisa Rawlings, a Bobby Hull 
clad in red jumper and sausage curls. The forty-eight pound lad looked 
up at the young lady who dwarfed him. "Ready class," sang Agatha Boyd, 



IS The Green Caldron 

"Here we go Loopty-Loo . . . here we go Lxxjpty-Lie." The spinster's 
spidery fingers wove across the keyboard as the young dancers skipped 
with their partners. All skipped except Lisa's partner, James Larson, 
whose feet were moving but never touched the ground as his much stronger 
partner whirled him through the air. 

"Stop, let's stop the music," pleaded Miss Boyd with a line she borrowed 
from Jimmy Durante. "What's the matter, James? Why aren't you skip- 
ping? Little Lisa is skipping." 

"But I am skipping," whimpered the small lad as he wiped his nose 
on the sleeve of his navy blue sweater. 

"Oh no you are not, young man. I simply do not know what we are 
going to do with you. How do you expect to get into the first grade?" 

Jim's brown eyes began to water. "But I zvas skip . . ." His voice 
cracked. 

Miss Boyd called Jim over to her wooden desk as she meticulously 
wrote a note to his mother requesting that Mrs. Larson come next Monday 
and discuss Jim's progress in kindergarten. Agatha Boyd recapped her 
fountain pen and pinned the note to Jim's sweater. 

The following Monday Mrs. Larson walked into room 115 and was 
told of her son's problem. "I don't know what we are going to do with 
James," explained Miss Boyd. "He simply cannot skip. I'm afraid this 
will impair his total progress since creative dance forms an integral part 
of the pre-primary curriculum." Mrs. Larson looked somewhat surprised 
and explained that not only did her son skip, but ran, jumped, hopped, and 
did everything else five year old boys did. 

"Oh, I'm afraid you're wrong on that skipping part," answered Miss 
Boyd confidently. "Watch as the class performs 'Loopty-Loo.' " The spider)- 
fingers played the familiar tune as Lisa Rawlings exuberantly whirled 
James through the air. 

Upon the completion of the dance Miss Boyd smiled in a confident 
I-told-you-so manner. "I think you may have made a mistake in assigning 
partners," commented Mrs. Larson. "James, show Miss Boyd that you 
can skip. Skip around this green circle." 

Miss Boyd nervously adjusted her garnet ring as the boy merrily 
skipped around the familiar circle. "I am sorry I troubled you, Mrs. 
Larson," said Miss Boyd softly, her face reddening with embarrassment. 
There was no reply since Mrs. Larson, feeling triumphant, had left the 
room. James was still skipping around the circle, confident he would pass 
into the first grade. Miss Boyd, however, was writing a letter to the prin- 
cipal. "The current progress of James Larson is unsatisjattory. It would 
be extremely beneficial if he remained in my class for another year." Agatha 
Boyd carefully blotted the last sentence, recapped her fountain pen, and 
smiled to herself. 



February, 1969 29 

The Tie That Binds 

Don Kurtz 

Rhetoric 108 

THERE WAS SOMETHING STRANGE ABOUT THE NECK- 
tie ; I knew this as I gazed at the yellow and violet circles glowing 
in the long white box. The feeling it might somehow be valuable, 
however, stayed with me as I approached the exchange counter of the 
department store. But after some further deliberation the tie seemed just 
too brash, too overdone, and too gaudy for anyone to wear, so I approached 
the counter with a set mind. !My mind was so set that I scarcely noticed 
the stranger behind me whispering in my ear. 

At home an hour later I could not believe what had happened at the 
store. I had gone to exchange a tie and now had the opportunity to ex- 
change my American citizenship for a fine living, a home anywhere in the 
world, and a private yacht. The stranger, an eccentric multi-billionaire, 
was offering me this strange choice. All my material desires would be 
satisfied if I would agree simply to forfeit my citizenship and leave the 
United States, never to return again. I was to return to the store that 
day with my decision, and after my first wave of desires subsided, I vowed 
to study the question rationally. 

I was reasonably certain that I could live with freedom and comfort 
in any of several different countries, such as Australia, Canada, and Great 
Britain. In that case, loyalty to one's country was a little silly, because 
a country seemed just an arbitrary collection of humans, and I should 
feel no more shame in canceling my United States citizenship than I would 
in dropping out of the Tuesday Night Square Dance Club. With a very 
comfortable existence assured, I would certainly not need Social Security 
or Medicare, which I would have to pay for anyway. There was also the 
chance I might be killed in war as further payment of my debt to America. 
If a job were offered overseas, I knew I might leave the country anyway. 
The exchange of my citizenship for wealth and ease seemed a better deal 
than anything I had expected when I went to trade the tie. 

The thought of my tie made me consider the alternative positions. Was 
a yacht a suitable substitute for my citizenship? I found it hard to justify 
the trade of something I had held more or less sacred — whether I had 
rationally believed it sacred or not — for purely material benefits. I could 
lie to Uncle Sid, who had given me the tie, but it was hard to lie to the 
thousands of Americans killed in wars, or to the local "Save the Red- 
woods" crusader. With anger I rejected this sentimental approach and 
resumed my deliberation. 

Rationally it was at least possible for me to gain this material wealth 



20 The Green Caldron 

in the United States without accejJting the offer in (juestion. I could train 
myself for a profession and struggle to get to the top, hut hard work did 
not seem particularly desirable when compared with comfort and ease. Many 
elements of good citizenship demanded my time, and war would demand 
much more. Was the United States worth giving up my time and pos- 
sibly my life to remain a citizen? 

Citizenship itself did not seem such a fine possession. It was an essentially 
valueless gift as far as price was concerned. Yet many people worked 
years for it, and many died to preserve citizenship as they knew it. The 
Supreme Court even ruled that loss of citizenship is a "cruel and unusual 
punishment," w^hile loss of life is not. Why was citizenship so prized by 
Americans ? 

The United States seemed a disorderly country at best. The i>eople 
were friendly enough if one happened to have the same political convic- 
tions. The streets were safe enough, if one walked in daylight with a 
friend. Still, Americans had some strange pride and fierce brashness that 
made them revere a melting pot that wasn't quite hot enough. They were 
gaudy in everything they did, from their neon crosses to their bargain pre- 
engagement rings. Only an American could make a yellow and violet neck- 
tie, and only an American would be unsure of himself when he had a chance 
to e.xchange it. 

But I did not exchange it. Brashness and gaudiness were a part of 
me, and in another country I would never see a person wearing a gaudy 
yellow and violet necktie who was brash enough to be proud of it. I was 
proud as I left the store wearing my tie, and paused only to slap a stranger 
on the back, with a loud "Hi Pal." I never saw his fist coming. 

.Another man came by soon and helped me to my feet. As 1 tried 
desperately to straighten the images in my eyes, he looked at the blood 
dripping clown my chest and said, "I'm afraid your tie's ruined, buddy." 
Even while mumbling thanks through the thick, salty taste that flowed in 
my mouth I knew he was wrong. The tag on the tie read, "Fully Machine 
Washable." 

Looking at hiin, J see tlie features of a boy of fifteen years. His trunk is tliin; 
his legs lanky. Long arms with large flat hands rest on tlie desk. His sandy brown 
hair is cropped short except for the few strands curling on his forehead. Under the 
forehead arc two invisible eyes masked by a pair of glasses. Smoky gray frames add 
to the dullness of the face. The slightly protruding ears highlight the length of his 
frail face, which is unmarked by sideburns, and reveals no trace of a beard. A short, 
tilted nose lies too far above the mouth. A hand reaches up. A iist knocks on the 
mouth as if trying to strike a thought into the mind. . . . 

— Carol Kant 



February, 1969 21 

The Battered Bard 

Marla Braverman 
Rhetoric 102 

YOU HAVE ONLY TO MENTION SHAKESPEARE'S HAMLET 
to receive the inevitable hushed query: "Have you seen the Laurence 
OHvier version?" Yes, I have seen that fihn more than once, and I 
pity every school child who is forced to view it as a great masterpiece. 
The film is completely Mr. Olivier's creation, his claim to knighthood, and 
the poor playwright is not even around to object. 

While trying to create a classic film for the masses, Olivier washes 
all of the symmetry and beauty out of a rich tapestry of plot, theme, and 
characterization. In order to simplify Shakespeare for the modern ground- 
lings, even the words are altered, except, of course, for the "famous quotes" 
which are preceded by a fanfare, and followed by a meaningful silence long 
enough to permit the audience's inevitable murmur of recognition and 
approval. 

Any transfer of Shakespeare from the stage to the screen involves a 
fragile, but rewarding balance between rich Renaissance trappings and sim- 
ple modern interpretations. But Olivier discards Elizabethan splendors and 
the only hint of that lively era is in the long dresses and stuffed doublets. 
The simple but elegant Elizabethan music is replaced by a stifT commentary 
from a string section. His idea of atmosphere includes a detailed tour of 
a moldy castle, an intensive scan of three royal chairs, and a monotonous 
view of a rolling sea, complete with fog and smoke, which is a beautiful 
Hitchcock maneuver without Hitchcock's sense of unity. 

Although the scenes, which are released from the stage's physical lim- 
itations, should flow, Olivier, probably thinking of the Late Show's com- 
mercial habits, indiscriminately chops them up. Speeches such as Ophelia's 
dutiful account of her first encounter with the "mad" Hamlet and Gertrude's 
dramatic rendition of Ophelia's death are made into ridiculous scenes, in- 
coherently scattered through the film. Soliloquies, apparently considered 
an awkward, ancient theater device, are not spoken but recorded and pan- 
tomimed : thus, Olivier's "To be, or not to be," is a long series of grimaces. 

But these are only technicalities which should not necessarily affect 
Hamlet's universal character and Shakespeare's universal themes. Olivier, 
however, lumps these together in his "profound" prologue: "This is the 
tragedy of a man who could not make up his mind." Having efficiently 
dismissed any complications, he directly proceeds to his favorite pastime 
which is acting. Instead of an intense intellectual whose mind seizes and 
examines, Olivier creates a self-conscious schoolboy whose subconscious en- 
joys an Oedipus complex. Olivier certainly lets his audience know he is 
feeling his great part: his only two sincere movements occur when he 



22 The Green Caldron 

kisses Ophelia's hair during the "nunnery" scene and when he pats the 
head of the play actor's poodle. 

The other characters, like Olivier's Hamlet, are also shallow. Ophelia 
is like any other Ophelia except that her mannequinned straw wig jjer- 
fectly matches Olivier's dj-ed blond hair, which, I suppose, is true love. 
Polonius is a dreary old man whose best scene is played behind the arras. 
Horatio is the wholesome all-American boy and Laertes is the wholesome 
all-American boy who has turned sour. Gertrude is sexy but stupid. 
Oaudius is a stick-y Danish pastry. They deserve each other. 

In addition to this lack of dimension is a lack of humor. Rosencrantz 
and Guildenstern are truly dead in this play and their absence removes 
much of the ironic humor. It is this lack of the bawdy and tender Eliza- 
bethan spirit which reduces a 1601 side of mutton and a tankard of ale to 
a 194S plate of corned beef hash and a glass of powdered milk. 



"Jesus Christ and the 
American Eagle" 



A Play 
Harry M. Tiebout. Ill 

Rhetoric m 

The Pl.wers: John R. Wilton, Ruth Wilton— His wije, Judith Wilton — 
Their daughter, 16, and Dwight Macdonald — Guest Star 

[Scene I : John Wilton is driving home jrom the office where he has spent 
another Day. As he turns into his home street, Greenbriar Drive, he looks 
at the neat hums, the large houses, the expensive cars parked in the drive- 
ways.] "Sure is a great place to raise kids!" [He looks again at the tidy 
yards and well-maintained homes.] "Great neighbors!" [He pulls into his 
drive, pushes a button which automatically opens the garage door, and parks 
the car in. fide.] 

[Scene II : Inside the living room of the lovely "Early American" home 
of the Wiltons. A leather armchair resides in one corner (possibly Ben 
Franklin sat in such a chair as he reasoned out theories of electricity), a 
wooden rocking chair (actually "aged" by modern scientific processes to 
be at least one hundred years old) sits by the red brick fireplace, jfith a 
black, cast-iron eagle (eye gleaming proudly) above the mantel. JRW 
enters, removes short-brimmed hat, puts briefcase down by the door, and 
hangs umbrella in closet.] "I'm home. Dear!" [His tfife comes running 
to give him a big "Welcome home. Dear" kiss.] 
JRW [Noticing Ruth's skimpy, hopefully se.ry housedress] "GRRR!" 



I'cbruary. 1969 23 

[Scene III: The living room. Dinner is over, and the IViltons are talk- 
ing. JRW is wearing a Lebanese smoking jacket (to go with his Turkish 
pipe, which, as one can readily tell by the Zi'ords "Made in Turkey" stamped 
on the stem, is far superior to any American pipe.) He is ready for a 
pleasant evening of Whatever with his charming wife and daughter. Judith 
enters, puts to one side a picture of Martha IVashington sewing the 50th 
star on the flag, and hangs up a mixed-media picture of Jesus Christ zvith 
tj crew-cut sitting on top of the cross, pinning dollar bills onto his body 
with miniature American flags.] 

JRW: "Aackk! Where did that come from?" 

Judith: [Proudly] "I made it. You may not like it now, but keep 
looking at it. I think you'll really get to like it!" 

JRW: [Indignantly] "Don't be ridiculous! I can tell right now I 
don't like it. I liked the one that was there much better. This thing [point- 
ing to her latest creation] doesn't have the same appeal as the other one. 
It doesn't communicate a . . ." [But his words are interrupted by a deaf- 
ening CRASH ! as Dwight Macdonald comes bursting through the door. 
DM has never looked so happy. Here, in the Wilton home, is another 
chance for him to damn all that is not high culture.] 

JRW: [Surprised, needless to say] "What in . . ." 

DM: "I've come to save you from something you don't even recognize 
as a problem." 

JRW: [Confused] "What?" 

DM: [Bluntly] "You, sir, are a victim of The Built-in Reaction." 

JRW: [Offended] "How do you mean that?" 

DM : "I mean you seem completely unable to interpret your surround- 
ings beyond what they tell you. Because of this you only become involved 
in things which tell you what response you're supposed to have. This, 
[tearing the eagle from above the mantel] for example! You bought this 
purely because when you look at it, it squawks 'Early American, EARLY 
AMERICAN!' You've neither judged its aesthetic value nor determined 
its authenticity. You're assuming culture where there is none!" 

Ruth: [Greatly disturbed] "Are you implying we have no Culture? 
Why, we had one of the finest interior decorators from Chicago do this 
room." 

DM: "Most unfortunate, I would say. Because this entire room is an 
example of The Built-in Reaction. And that painting of Martha Washington 
..." [He pauses, chuckling.] 

Ruth: [Even more disturbed] "What's wrong with that painting? We 
talked to the artist, and he said he painted it with a home such as ours 
in mind." 

JRW: "Right! And as I was about to say earlier, that painting has 
class. You have to have taste to appreciate a work of art like that. It 



24 The Green Caldri<ii 

communicates a patriotic message. You aren't a Communist or something, 
are you?" 

DM: (Somewhat annoyed] "Mr. Wilton, you fail to see my point. A 
chiid would recognize this painting is patriotic. How can you say it taki 
taste to appreciate it when 1 can pull a drunken bum off the street and ask 
him what he thinks of it and he'll recite the Pledge of Allegiance." 

JR\\': [Outraged] "Now wait just a minute!" 

DM: "Don't you understand? Anyone can tell what that painting i- 
about. Everyone responds to it in the same way. It has a Built-in Reaction." 
[Pointing to Judith's picture] "What about that?" 

JRW: "Aw come on! Are you trying to tell me that piece of trash 
is Culture?" 

DM : "Not necessarily, but it has a far greater chance of being part of 
culture than does Martha Washington sewing. Now what does this pic- 
ture mean to you? Think about that too, Mrs. Wilton." 

JRW: [After a reflective pause] "I think that's fairly obvious. It',- 
a symbol of youth [he looks at Judith] rejecting religion. It represents 
the death of God." 

DM: "How about you, Mrs. Wilton?" 

Ruth: [Sheepishly at first] "Well, I do hate to disagree with John, 
but with those dollar bills and all, I think the picture shows how man' 
constant concern for money and material things is destroying him." 

DM: "Understand? Both of you have a different response, yet neither 
of you has fully explained the picture. Why American flags? Why does 
Christ have a crew-cut ? Why does he sit on the cross instead of running 
away? Everybody has his own interpretation of it because it doesn't haii 
a Built-in Reaction." 

Ruth: "So you're trying to tell me that because this room has a Built- 
in Reaction it isn't Culture?" [She is distressed by the implications of her 
own words.] 

DM: "How can it be? Everything in this room is stereotyped. Eagles. 
Martha Washington, stained wood finish. This room was furnished for 
the Built-in Reaction it would produce, not for the sake of being 'Early 
American.' If you bothered to do a little work yourselves, you might be 
able to find out what early American homes were really like. Then, after 
redecorating this room, you might not even have an eagle or a picture of 
Martha Wasliington. People who walked in here might not even interpret 
it as Early American because it wouldn't have any Built-in Reaction. Think 
about that." 

[DM, without further oration, happily leaves the house. The Wiltons 
gaze at each other a few moments, then discuss the possibility of redeco- 
rating the living room.] 

Ruth: [Enthusiastically] "Oh, John! This time let's make it Oriental. 
I saw an article in Life magazine about. . ." 



AWARDS 

THE CALDRON will continue its policy of giving awards to the 
writers of the five best themes in each issue. The winners will be 
selected by the votes of the members of the freshmen rhetoric staff. 

The schedule of awards is as foUows: 

First: Fifteen dollars and five dollars worth of books 

Second: Ten dollars and five dollars worth of books 

Third: Five dollars and five dollars worth of books 

Fourth: Five dollars worth of book* 

Fifth: Five dollars worth of books 



We wish to thank the following bookstores for their generosity 
in providing prizes: 

Campus Book Store 
FoIleU's College Book Store 
lUini Union Book Store 



THE GREEN 
CALDRON 



^ ® .H C 

D -P rC T- 

-I H r^ 

- 3 ?H -p E- 

;r 3 O d 

:> g I a 

O OQ F 

a o n (E 

^ Jh o r- 

3 CO .H rC 

a CD -P c 

:> cri o ?. 

O !h 

? -P t: 

FALL, 1969 ? m ^ s 



The Green Caldron is published each October and February 
by the Rhetoric Staff of the University of IlHnois at Urbana- 
Champaign. Material is chosen from contributions submitted 
by university writers and artists. Permission to publish is 
obtained for full compositions, including those published anony- 
mously. Parts of compositions, however, may be published at 
the discretion of the committee in charge. 

Members of the committee in charge of The Green Caldron 
are Rosemarie Abendroth, Harold Blair, Marsha McCreadie, 
Philippe Perebinosoff, Donald Rude, Harold Walsh, and Mel 
Storm, editor. 



Copyright 1969 by THE GREEN CALDRON Staff 



Published bv the R. F. Colwell Pkinting Corp. 
Champaign, Illinois 



CTP 



JU 

D 



^ 



mimm 



Concoriiing Emerson's Nature 
Ann C Tyler 

What It Means to Be Black in 
While America: An Analysis of 
Eldridge Cleaver's Soul on Ice 
Lynn Cherie Isliida 

The William Tell Overture 
Pamela Brown 



A MAGAZINE OF 
COLLEGE WRITING 



When You're Ten 
Charles W. Quick, Jr. 



12 



Among the Adamites 
Loren Curtis 



14 



A Business Call 
Harry M. Tiebout, III 



16 



Role of the Student Rebel 
Eric Lewis 



18 



Graphics by Michael J. Plautz 



Volume 38, Number 1 
Fall, 1969 

University of Illinois at 
Urbana-Champaign 



Concerning Emerson's Nature 

Ann C. Tyler 

Emerson deals with two types of nature in his essay of that name : * common na- 
ture and philosophical nature. Common nature is nature apart from man. Philosophical 
nature involves nature's emotional effect on man. In the ])iiilosophical sense man can 
not he separated from nature and still be a "fet-linj^" man. 

Nature in the common sense : 
p.2 

space is 

avoid; 
ncnmir = pure is an 
d; clear river sar 

e(w) here 
ism anft- here isn' one 

p. 33 a man possessing great insight rose with the sun 
one morning 

and following the pre-designated schedule, 
which had appeared under his horoscope 
went to commune with nature 
the purpose of a communal being 
to see what one can see 
(for so the expression goes 
and does not change) 

so the watcher took high-power binoculars 
in order to miss nothing 
and he did 

even though he forgot his glasses 
but these trivials are unimportant 
compared to the ecstasy felt 
on tackling the all-outdoors 
which lasted until the unforeseen downfall, 
occurring when the traveler came upon a clear pond 
and could not find his reflection anywhere 
causing great alarm and a quickening homeward pace 
to consult once more 
his horoscope 



* Page references are to Nature as printed in tlie Crofts Qassics edition, Ralph Waldo Emerson, 
Five Essays on Man and Nature, ed. Robert E. Spiller (New York, 1954), pp. 1-40. 



What It Means to be Black 
in White America: An Analysis 
of Eldridge Cleaver's Soul on Ice 



Lynn Ciierie Ishida 



Eldridge Cleaver's Soul on Ice * encom- 
p>asses a remarkable range of ideas and 
opinions. Yet the theme Cleaver wishes to 
convey is evident : unless the blacks are 
given true "equality" through recognition 
and action on the part of both blacks and 
whites toward a new view of the Ijlack 
situation, socially, politically, and economi- 
cally, the "soul" of America will indeed 
remain "on ice." 

It must be understood that Cleaver writes 
in what is j)rimarily a stream of conscious- 
ness style, very emotional in tone and ex- 
tremely personal in thought. His writing 
reflects such an intense sensitivity that he 
is able to e.\])ress love and hate with equal 
impact. Searching for his identity. Cleaver 
is trying neither to win converts to his side 
nor to promote antagonism ; he is merely at- 
tempting to write "to save . . . himself" (p. 
15). He is facing the problem of "what it 
mean[s] to be black in white America" 
(p. 3), and telling it, as he views the situa- 
tion, ff)r blacks and whites alike. 

Within the safety of his Folsom Prison 
cell — "once inside my cell, I feel safe" (p. 
42) — Cleaver first feels a growing lack of 
identity. "I felt I was losing my identity. 
There was a deadness in my body that 
eluded me, as though I could not exactly 
locate its site. I would be aware of this 
numbness, this feeling of atrophy, and it 
haunted the back of my mind, because of 
this numb sjjot, I felt peculiarly olY balance. 



•(New York: McGraw-Hill, 1968.) 



the awareness of something missing, of a 
blank spot, a certain intimation of empti- 
ness" (pp. 24-25). He sees himself in rela- 
tion to the twenty million blacks in the 
United States and recognizes the reality of 
their position and the influence of the myth 
of white supremacy on the blacks. 

The first incidence at Soledad Prison 
which awakens Cleaver is the ripping to 
shreds of the poster of his imaginary bride — 
a pinup girl from Esquire magazine — by the 
white prison guard. Realizing for the first 
tin)e that he has "chosen the picture of tiie 
white girl over the available pictures of 
black girls" (p. 8), he is "fascinated by 
the truth involved" (p. 8). Yet. repudi- 
ating this truth, he "arrive fs] at the con- 
clusion that, as a matter of principle, it was 
of paramount importance for me to have an 
antagonistic, ruthless attitude toward white 
women" (p. 13). and becomes a disillu- 
sioned rapist. 

When he returns to prison — this time 
I'olsom Prison — he proceeds to self-educate 
himself, clearly focusing on the black di- 
lemma. Spurred by the death of Malcolm 
X. a former ])risoner with whom Cleaver 
identifies and who becomes a "symbol of 
hope" (p. 58), he espouses Malcolm's 
views in opposition to Elijah Muhammad 
because "what was great was not Malcolm 
X but the truth he uttered" (p. 59). And 
with all sincerity he asserts, "We shall have 
our manhood. We shall have it or the earth 
will be leveled by our attempts to gain it" 
(p. (.1). 



This subduing of black manhood — black 
masculinity — Cleaver lands apparent in the 
absence of Negro leadership. His main 
focus of attention is the boxing ring, specifi- 
cally the Muhammad Ali-Patterson fight. 
As Cleaver views it : 

There is no doubt tliat white America will 
accept a black champion, applaud and reward 
him, as long as there is no "white hope" in 
sight. But what white .America demands in her 
black champions is a brilliant, powerful body 
and a dull, bestial mind. . . . And for a black 
king of bo.xing the boundaries of his kingdom 
are sharply circumscribed by the ropes around 
the ring (p. 92). 

\Vith the advent of Muhammad Ali, how- 
ever, America reached a new level of truth. 
Previously the whites held the strings of the 
black puppet fighters' public lives and 
maneuvered them to fit their desired image. 
"But when the ape breaks from the leash, 
beats with deadly fists upon his massive 
chest and starts talking to boot, proclaiming 
himself to be the greatest, spouting poetry, 
and annihilating every gunbearer the white 
hunter sics on him . . . , a very serious 
slippage takes place in the white man's self- 
image — because that by which he defined 
himself no longer has a recognizable iden- 
tity" (pp. 93-4). Muhammad Ali, heeding 
Elijah ^Muhammad's call to resurrect the 
Lazarus, the Negro, from his grave, was 
the ape who conquered an unheeding Laza- 
rus, a puppet being controlled by whites. 
And with this victory there advanced a step 
toward Negro liberation : 

Yes, the Louisville Lip is a loudmouthed 
braggart. Yes, he is a Black Muslim racist, 
staunch enough in the need of his beliefs to 
divorce his wife for not adopting his religion ; 
and firing his trainer, who taught him to "float 
like a butterfly and sting like a bee," for the 
same reason. But he is also a "free" man, de- 
termined not to be a white man's puppet even 
though he fights to entertain them ; determined 
to be autonomous in his private life and a true 
king of his realm in public, and he is exactly 
that (p. 96). 

Cleaver continues to view the black di- 



lemma in terms of politics and economics, 
and feels that changes are needed to promote 
black leadership in these areas. Domestic 
and international laws of America are white 
power tools. Goaded by the police and 
National Guard forces, the blacks resort to 
violence, as demonstrated in the Watts riots, 
to gain leadership. Yet, Cleaver says, "In 
their rage against the police, against police 
brutality, the blacks lose sight of the funda- 
mental reality : that the police are only an 
instrument for the implementation of the 
policies of those who make the decision. 
Police brutality is only one facet of the 
crystal of terror and oppression. Behind 
police brutality there is social brutality, 
economic brutality, and political brutality" 
(p. 133). 

Perhaps the central focus of black sup- 
pression, however, is evident in the sexual 
relationship of blacks and whites. Cleaver 
relates the conversation of a black I^azarus 
who says, "Every time I embrace a black 
woman Fm embracing slavery, and when I 
put my arms around a white woman, well, 
Pm hugging freedom" (p. 160). The reason 
behind this is that the white "Omnipotent 
.Administrator," who has access to both the 
white and black women, has denied the 
black " Superinasculine Menial" access to 
the white woman — "The stem of the Body, 
the penis, must submit to the will of the 
Brain" (p. 165). 

Nevertheless, Cleaver sees that this is not 
the solution, for "It only drove the truth 
underground" (p. 165). He expands on the 
hidividual roles of the blacks and whites: 
the Omnipotent Administrator is at the head 
of the Class Society because his power is 
based on the development of his mind. The 
Supermasculine Menial is thus associated 
with the body — virility, strength, and physi- 
cal power. The counterpart of the Omni- 
potent Administrator, the Ultrafeminine, 
must be so to promote her man's masculin- 
ity: "Even though her man is effeminate, 
she is required to possess and project an 



image that is in sharp contrast to his, more 
sliarply feminine than his. so that the effemi- 
nate image of her man can still, by z'irtite of 
the sharp contrast in degrees of femininity, 
be perceived as masculine" (p. 181). This 
fact relegates the sub-feminine female to the 
position of Amazon, alienated from her femi- 
nine component. 

The effect of these roles is based on the 
fact that "tiie sexual act ... is a joint 
venture of the Mind and Body" (p. 185). 
Thus, the Su])ermasculiiie Menial, seeking 
tile mind of wliich he lias been robbed — 
"The struggle of his life is for the emanci- 
pation of his mind, to receive recognition 
for the products of his mind, and official 
recognition of the fact that he has a mind" 
(p. 186) — recoils from the strength of the 
Amazon and desires the Ultrafeniinine. 
The Ultrafeniinine, in turn, seeks a strong 
body to counteract the weak one, and not 
finding it in the Omnipotent Administrator, 
finds it in the Supermasculine Menial. 
Meanwhile, the Omnipotent Administrator 
seeks virility and envies the physical power 
of the Supermasculine Menial. In his aver- 
sion to the Ultrafeniinine, whom he suspects 
of attempting to promote his masculinity, he 
unconsciously tries to conceal his aversion 
and ostentatiously worships the Ultrafenii- 
nine. Finally, the Amazon, bereft of her 
femininity, is attracted both by tlie mind of 
the Omnipotent Administrator and by the 
body of the Supermasculine Menial — she 
views each as onlv lialf a man. 



Tiie struggle then, as Cleaver views it, 
is "America's attempt to unite its Mind 
with its Body, to save its soul" (p. 203). 
He finds hojie in his people: 

The Supermasculine Menial and the Amazon 
are the least alienated from the biological chain, 
although their minds — especially the Supermas- 
culine Menials' ! — are in a general state of nii- 
derdevelopment. Still, they are the wealth o' 
a nation, an abundant supply of unexhaustril 
unde-essenced human raw material upon which 
the future of the society depends and with 
which, through the implacable march of his- 
tory to an ever broader base of democracy and 
equality, the society will renew and transform 
itself (p. 190). 

It is through this hope, this realization, 
that Cleaver is able to see his true identity, 
the role he must play to overcome the black 
dilemma. In his final essay, Cleaver pleads 
with the black woman to accept him as a 
new man after four hundred years of neglect. 
Together the black man and black woman 
"will build a Xew City on these ruins" (p. 
210). Thus, Cleaver finds his identity: 
"What must be done, I believe, is that all 
these problems — particularly the sickness 
between the white woman and the black 
man — must be brought out into the open, 
dealt with and resolved" (p. 16). Indeed, 
the major purpose of Soul on Ice is to dis- 
close the problem, and the final plea to the 
"Black Beauty" is an attempt to deal with 
it. All that remains is a resolution. 



It was suggested that the university budget be cut instead of being increased as a pun- 
ishment. 

The angry bull was imagining my broken, mangled body at the foot of his head. 

In tliis brave new world . . . promiscuity is encouraged: it is just another activity to fill 
the time. The object is to spread yourself around as much as possible. 



Most adoptive parents are disajipointed in their inaliility to have their own baby 
Many of these people feel they have failed in their roll in life. 



The William Tell Overture 

Pamela Brown 

In 1902. Cornelia Eliot was caught smoking in the cellar. Despite the fact that she 
was 34 years old, her husband sent her to her room. 
Tackle works for girls too. 

A dollar a month will keep her from starving. 
Caution : cigarette smoking may be hazardous to your health. 
"Made me so nervous I had to have another." 
But L&Ms have the lowest tar and nicotine content of all best selling filter kings. 

Every 10 seconds someone starves to death in Biafra. 
Who's Who in America 1946-1948? "Oh where does time go? (decidedly sarcastically)" 
Send me 33 weeks of Time and bill me $3.97. 

Army Officers Candidate School prepares you for leadership like no other school can. 
It's irresistible. 
Santo hit a home run today. 

"And 46 Americans were killed in Viet Nam today." 
"Do you even hear me?" 
Clothe the animals 
"And Daley too." 
"And daily too." 
There must be a Lone Ranger 
Heard it thru the grapevine. 
"My black mask is trampled in the grass." 

"The most human desire is to be superhuman. The most human device is to appear so." 
Bensen and Hedges last 7 minutes. 

And every 10 seconds someone starves to death in Biafra. 
"Dodge fever — -it's quite common — I shouldn't worry about it." 
Bic rites longer. 
"Cascading winds gently blow 
Thru 2-layer 
Pinwheel minds. 
Entombed in zinc 
In Hyde Park Square 
They are 
On sun day mourning." 



"We had a matron at school once who married a German after the war. She did not 

have many friends. Aiid her husband went back to Germany." 

Tiie weather almost reached us today. 

The temperature was 68 degrees 4 inches underground. 

We ]5ut a new gadget on our gadget. 

"Dammit ! Biafrans need your help." 
Health foods- — True or False? 

"Dammit! T1h-\ don't need your money to live a better life — they need it to live at all." 
The newest fashion Hingout this side of Paris. 
"The other man's grass is always golder I guess." 
Do you have to give up your identity to make it in a big corporation ? 
Mr. Weisbacker! The copy machine isn't working again. 
We've got to stop fishing like St. Peter. (If he's still a saint) 
a. International Xickel or b. Bethlehem Steel. 

"At school once there was an epidemic of running away, the blame for which the headmis- 
tress put on the matron, who also ran away." 
300 Mickey Mouse sweatshirts were captured in \'iet Nam. 
He> — Who's Who in America 1966-1968? 
You can make your name with Alphabits, 
"In fact you will probably have to." 
" 'Guinness is good for you' and so is grass." 
You can't take the country out of Salem. 

"It seems you can take it out of just about every bloody thing else." 
Discover the no-color Corn Silk. 
"Go ahead — Keep America beautiful." 

Love is the only strength which makes things one without destroying them. 
In 1914 we fought the Germans and won. In 1942 we fought the Germans and won. Why 
are we messing around with Viet Nam when we can fight the Germans and win ? 
"Could be funny — maybe it is — maybe even Bessie Smith was funny too." 
"Post-humourous laugh." 
Softly blows the wind on its way to Hades. 

"In history, I was trying to resurrect the human race. In nursing I will try to jireserve 
some of what is left of it — sometimes I forget why." 



10 



"How are you ?" 

Tang is 3c off. 

"The leaves are green." 

We're celebrating the 70th anniversary of the S. S. Kresge Company. 

"Can't you even see the leaves are green?" 

The handsome quilted car seat covers are only $5.86. 

"Oh God ! Don't sit on the grass, Sam !" 

One dollar a month will keep her from starving. 
Isn't there an easier way to earn my Canadian Club? 
"White Capitalism" at work. 

She's still starving. And the Biafrans. And the Indians. And the Chinese. And the 
Americans. And the Americans. And the Americans. 

Love is the only strength which makes things one without destroying them. 
"How deep depth 
Since inches reflect. 
Insight shallow 
Into tomorrow. 
Jade candle 
Ivory handle. 
Misty hollow 
Looming gallows. 

Where does time go — 

God bloody knows. 

Perhaps it dies 

With things that grow 

And melts with the snow. 

So what — 

Give a damn 

But not your mind 

Ne'mind. 

Damn. 

Cheers." 

You've come a long way baby 

"But where are you going?" 



11 



When You're Ten 



Ten years old and all was well. The 
world was a giant playground. No worries 
or responsibilities. If a problem arose too 
big for me to handle, I could always turn 
to my parents. Parents are perfect when 
you're ten ; they can do no wrong. They're 
wise and wonderful, and as a child in my 
parents' care I was safe and happy. 

Summer days in Washington, D. C, were 
hot ; the humidity was high. But they were 
carefree days. Between bike riding and ball- 
playing we used to raid cherry trees. We'd 
converge on every defenseless cherry tree 
in the neighborhood, pick and eat the ripe 
red cherries and then, stomachs filled, flee 
swiftly on our bikes. We would raid every 
tree, that is, except one. 

On the corner of our block there stood 
a large church. Sejiarated from the church 
by an alley was the dwelling of Widow 
Butler, known to us as "The Witch." Her 
tek'])hone calls to my friends' parents — calls 
filled with malicious lies, telling of supposed 
wrong doings — had caused many a sore 
bottom. I was glad she had never had cause 
to phone my parents, although I knew they 
would see through her lies. 

The dominant feature of the witch's den 
was the large cherry tree in the back yard. 
Enclosed by a high fence, that particular 
tree, whose cherries were bigger and redder 
than all the others, had always escaped our 
scavenging. 

"Let's raid the witch's tree," someone 
boldly suggested. 



12 



"You think we should?" 

"Man, suppose she catches us and tells 
our folks. My father would never sto]) 
whipping me." 

I, too, was a little hesitant to go, not 
because I was afraid of getting a whipping, 
but because we had always raided trees 
belonging to people unknown to our parents. 
This was different. 

"What's the matter, you scared ? No- 
body's gonna catch us. She might not even 
be home. You guys chicken or something?" 

Chicken? No. Cautious? Yes. So we 
decided instead that a couple of us would 
approach her for permission to pick her 
cherries. As we sheepishly approached her 
porch she aj^peared abruptly and warmly 
greeted us. 

"You God damn kids get the hell out 
of my yard." 

We scampered from her yard and started 
back up the alley. Halfway home I saw my 
father coming toward me angrily. Why 
was he mad? What had I done? Had the 
witch called him? What had she said? He 
wouldn't be so mad if he knew the truth — 
that we were about to ask her if we could 
pick her cherries. She must have lied. 
Surely he would believe me when I told 
him the truth. 

Without a word he angrily grabbed my 
arm and, lifting me half off my feet, led 
me back up the alley. I was beaten all the 
way home. 



Charles W. Quick, Jr. 



13 




Among the Adamites 



LoREN Curtis 



I don't remember how it was that I first 
heard about them, but it might well have 
been in that listening post of the Univer- 
sity — the Union Commons. Whatever the 
exact circumstances, I have been aware for 
at least a year that there is a sect of 
Adamites worshipping here in Champaign. 
During that period of time, in response to 
one rumor after another, my attitude toward 
them has changed from disbelief to amuse- 
ment to curiosity to I don't know what. 
This last state of uncertainty is the one in 
which I find myself at present, and in which 
1 have been since last Saturday night, when 
I witnessed a complete Adamite church 
service. 

It is not clear to me how, exactly, I came 
to attend a meeting of the Adamites, but 
I suppose it was a result of my curiosity 
and the sect's zeal for converts. In any 
case, after a few furtive and cryptic conver- 
sations with i^eople whom I hardly knew, 



I found myself being led down into the 
basement of Noyes Lab and into what 
seemed to be a steam tunnel. I noticed my 
guide was not one of the people with whom 
I had spoken during the week, but she (for 
it was a girl) had met me at the apiwintcd 
six)t on the steps of the Auditorium pre- 
cisely at one a.m. and, in addition, seemed 
to know the way very well, so I saw no 
reason to distrust her. We stumbled along 
for a considerable time making one right- 
angle turn after another, and I soon found 
mvself perspiring heavily because of the 
exercise and the fetid atmosphere of the 
tunnel. I supposed that I was being taken 
to the meeting by a circuitous route so that 
I could never lead the authorities to the 
meeting place if I were appalled by the 
Adamites' strange manner of worship. Fi- 
nally, after what seemed like more than 
half an hour the way became brighter and 
I was soon led into a large sub-sub-basement 



14 



that served as a church for the Adamites. 
As she entered the room, my guide removed 
her raincoat. Beneath it she was wearing 
no clothes, and a look around at the dozens 
of other worshippers confirmed that at least 
part of what I had heard about the Adam- 
ites was correct. Not wishing to be con- 
spicuous myself, I quickly began removing 
my own clothing. Apparently I still stood 
out, for by the time I reached the point of 
pulling oS my socks a large bearded fellow 
approached and introduced himself as the 
group's Minister of Information. It was 
his job, he said, to look after newcomers and 
answer any questions they might have. He 
informed me that since this was my first 
meeting I would be allowed only to observe, 
and accordingly he led me off to a quiet 
corner. Adam Six, as the bearded fellow 
was called, stayed with me throughout the 
service, which lasted an hour or so, and 
from his answers I gathered some concrete 
knowledge about who the Adamites are and 
what they stand for. 

Although no one knows how long the 
Adamites have existed as a religious move- 
ment, it has been at least since the beginning 
of Christianity. Their obscurity is probably 
a direct result of the more or less radical 
nature of their doctrine, and the consequent 
necessity of remaining secret. They believe 
that the purpose of religion is to return man 
to the state of innocence he enjoyed in the 
Garden of Eden before Eve encountered the 
serpent. In order to regain this innocence, 
they come together in large groups to cele- 
brate the beauty of the naked human body, 
believing that clothing is an obvious sign of 
man's corruption. An important part of this 
celebration consists of men and women 
joining together in sexual intercourse for the 
purpose of mutual joy. In this regard every 
man is considered to be an Adam and every 
woman an Eve, a concept they interpret to 
mean that each man is entitled to carnal 
knowledge of whichever woman he chooses 
and that matrimonial pairs do not exist 



when the group meets. In addition to this 
rather ])romiscuous pairing off of male and 
female there is a somewhat more formal 
as])ect to the service. That is, there are a 
half-dozen or so Readers who each take a 
turn chanting the portions of Genesis which 
are relevant to the group and its beliefs. 
The ringing of a bell signals the conclusion 
of this, and the leader of the group, who 
is known as Adam One, delivers a brief 
sermon elaborating upon some point of their 
doctrine. (Last Saturday he spoke about the 
importance of staying in the present moment 
during love-making.) When he has fin- 
ished there is a sort of general shouting and 
dancing about to the sound of a heavy 
drumbeat. After a few minutes of this ex- 
citement the hell rings again, ending the 
meeting. The worshippers then don their 
clothing and return to their homes. 

As I was putting on my own clothes, 
Adam Six brought Adam One over and 
introduced him to me. After warning me 
that I must tell no one what I had seen and 
heard, he said that I should think very 
carefully about what it is that the Adamites 
stand for and decide whether or not I 
shared or could learn to share their beliefs. 
I said that I would do so and was told that 
I would be notified concerning the next 
meeting. My guide then reappeared wear- 
ing her raincoat and led me out the same 
long way we had come in. 

Almost a week has gone by since I 
emerged from the tunnel. I haven't been 
contacted yet about another meeting with 
the Adamites, nor can I decide whether I 
want to attend another. I hoped that per- 
haps this period of waiting would have 
helped me reach some sort of decision, but 
it hasn't. Taking off my clothes and copu- 
lating with any woman of my choice is very 
appealing, and so is the possibility of regain- 
ing my lost innocence. Nevertheless I'm 
unable to escape the feeling that an apple a 
day really dues keep the doctor away. 



IS 



A Business Call 



Harry M. Tiebout, III 



Poof ! I was surprised ; no, stunned. 
There, in the middle of my bed, stood a 
man in a business suit. "My God!" I gasped. 
"This is unreal ! What in God's name do 
you want?" I lool<ed up at him. He was 
standing almost on my stomach. 

"Pardon me," he apologized, "a rather 
poor entrance, I must admit. Ah yes! What 
am I doing here?" He unfastened his brief 
case and extracted a black folder which he 
opened and handed to me. "As you can 
see" (and I could), "your time is up. Ac- 
cording to our schedule, you are to pass 
away tonight of, shall we say, unknown 
causes." I was speechless. "There is a way, 
however, that you can prevent this dreadful 
occurrence." He failed to suppress a 
chuckle. 

"Christ! I'll do anything! Just tell me 
what!" 

"Well, you see, we're a bit short of volun- 
teers" (for what, I wondered), "and I 
thought perhaps you would like to help us 
out." He glanced at me eagerly. "You can 
be part of an experiment!" 

"You mean if I go along with you I 
won't die tonight?" I was not yet ready 
to accept death. 

"Exactly. We're going to change your 
size. You can decide to be either two inches 
tall or thirteen feet tall. That's the only 
choice you have. You don't want to die, 
do you?" 

"No." 

"Good. I'll be back in half an hour for 
your decision." Flash! He was gone, but 
the folder with mv name was still there. 



16 



"Well," I said to myself, "which is better? 
If I were thirteen feet tall I don't suppose 
anyone would give nie much trouble. No 
one would beat me up or push me around 
much. But who, on the other hand, would 
push around a two-inch shrimp. No great 
problem there, but two inches is terribly 
puny. I wouldn't be able to open doors or 
get into a car or use a telephone or . . . ." 
I felt a moment of panic and almost decided 
definitely in favor of being tall. Then an 
image of a thirteen-foot freak trying to get 
into a car flashed across my mind. Another 
thought struck me. "If I were thirteen feet 
tall," I imagined, "how could I take a bath ? 
What clothes could I wear?" Then I imag- 
ined myself two inches tall. "My mother 
could sew me a little robe," I reasoned, 
"and I wouldn't have to spend a fortune on 
clothes." I was just beginning to favor 
being small. "I would hardly eat a thing. 
A jar of baby food would last me a month." 
I cringed at the thought of how much it 
would cost to feed a teenage giant. 

By this point I was beginning to develop 
a clear idea of the importance of size. Being 
tiny or huge each had its disadvantages. A 
tiny person, for instance, would always need 
other people to do simple things for him, 
such as opening doors, or helping him into 
a car, or carrying him upstairs. A giant 
wouldn't be able to go to many of the places 
an ordinary person could. For example, a 
person thirteen feet tall would have trouble 
fitting into an elevator or getting into a 
small room, and no matter how careful he 
was, he would constantly be causing acci- 



dents and breaking things not designed for 
his great size. 

I finally decided, however, that since both 
had nearly the same number of disadvan- 
tages, I should try to determine which, if 
either, had the most advantages. After 
thoughtful consideration I arrived at a num- 
ber of helpful observations. The tiny person 
can be thought of as a subset of his environ- 
ment. He can enjoy and participate in at 
least a small part of nearly every phase of 
culture. He can receive nearly all the stimuli 
from his environment, although often not 
to the fullest possible extent. The giant, on 
the other hand, is a superset of the environ- 
ment. He can be involved in only a limited 
part of his surroundings. He can experience 
fewer things, and to a lesser extent, than the 
normal person. Because of his size, his par- 
ticipation in the environment is restricted, 
while the tiny person's participation is 
merely impaired. If I were thirteen feet tall, 
for instance, I might never be able to attend 
another chemistry lab. But if I were two 
inches tall, I would at least be able to attend, 
even if only as an observer. 

I was inventing similar examples when 
my strange guest returned. "Have you de- 
cided yet?" he enquired jovially, his eyes 
sparkling in anticipation. 

"Oh yes, I suppose. I've decided I would 
rather be . . . ," but he had apparently read 
my mind, for he disappeared before I fin- 
ished speaking. Hoping I had made the 
better choice, and resigning myself to fate, 
I climbed down from my pillow. 



17 



Role of the Student Rebel 



Eric Lewis 



Recent crises on the campuses of Ameri- 
ca's universities have revealed that one of 
the major i)robleins confronting education 
is the need to define tlie role of the student 
in its administration. The nation's news- 
papers and periodicals have been describing 
and analyzing the causes and effects of the 
recent upheavals for some time, and the 
seriousness of the situation, characterized 
by the Columbia outbreak in April of 1968, 
has brought out innumeralile essays, poems, 
and books on the subject. Though many 
authors, essayists, commentators, and jour- 
nalists have sided with the students on 
numerous issues, there are a great many 
who maintain that these student rebels are 
no more than children, displaying immature 
anger that is naturally inherent in the young. 
It is this kind of simplistic reasoning by such 
men as George F. Kennan, Sidney Hook, 
and Jacques Barzun that places undue pres- 
sure on the widening generation gap. 

In his article, "Rebel Without a Pro- 
gram," * George F. Kennan inaccurately 
and unjustly attacks the student activists. 
He questions the sincerity of their demands 
by condemning their methods and their 
"life style." A fervent believer in modera- 
tion (whatever the cause), Kennan ques- 
tions the value of "passion" in their pro- 
tests. He builds much of his argument 
around the blanket statement that student 
activists "lack interest in the creation of 
any real style and distinction of personal 
life generally." As "proofs" he sjiccifies 
their lack of manners, untidiness, disinterest 
in "iicrsoiial hygiene," and refusal to culti- 



vate "amenities" ; on the side, he "suspects" 
their love lives, like their politics, to be 
"tense, anxious, defiant, and joyless." Such 
generalities, founded on highly inaccurate 
stereotypes, are nothing but the slander of 
a whole generation. 

Sidney Hook does little better in his arti- 
cle about Columbia, "The Prospects of 
Academe," - by equating the emotionalism 
of the protesters with irrationalism. He 
says that the students "had no grievances" 
and were interested solely in "violence, ob- 
scenity, and hysterical insult." He goes on 
to describe the "callow and immature ado- 
lescents' as they attacked the pristine "cita- 
del of learning." In the end. Hook ironically 
states that "there are some things one should 
not be moderate about" ; the students say 
the same — that it is acceptable to be pas- 
sionately involved in protest — while Hook 
means it is acceptable to be passionate only 
against those who are passionately involved 
in protest. 

Jacques Barzun goes the furthest in dis- 
torting the lives and the rationale of the 
student activists. He "describes" the stu- 
dents, states the "real" issues and presents 
his own resolutions.''' First, Barzun excuses 
the young on the grounds that they have an 
inherent anger that must somewhere find an 
outlet. He goes on to say that students 
object to the impersonality of the university _ 
and to parietal rule because "the rules have m 
relaxed too much rather than thev have 



^ Nezv York Times Magasiiic, January 21, 1968, 
pp. 22-23. 



' Encounter, ,\ugust 1968, pp. 60-66. 

' The American Uniz-ersily: Ilotc [t Runs, 
Where It Is Going (New York: Harper and Row, 
1968). 



18 



J 



relaxed too little ;" ■* "students starve for 
structure, desperate to he introduced to the 
rigors of logic." His answer to this prohleni 
amounts to a university of sterility, "a 
place of respite and meditation," a Christian 
catacomh. free from the youth he finds so 
distasteful, with their "indifference to clothes 
and cleanliness, a distrust and neglect of 
reasoning ... a freedom in sexuality, which 
is really a lowering of its intensity and 
value . . . and — most symptomatic — a free 
field given to the growth of hair." He 
further slanders the students with such 
statements as, "the undergraduates cheat a 
lot on exams and papers ; they obtain money 
by stealing books from college bookstores; 
they keep library books out as long as they 
like and fines go unpaid ; they deny their 
roommates the slightest considerations ; stu- 
dents of both sexes live pig-style in their 
dormitories." '' Such gross untruths as 
these serve only to worsen the lack of com- 
munication. 

What are the issues that these and other 
writers insist the student rebels care little 
about ? They are at the base of education 
and freedom in America. Not only are the 
rebels concerned with educational freedom — 
the relevance of required curriculum, class- 
room format, the power of student govern- 
ment, the campus social restrictions — but 
they direct their "passions" toward national 
and world problems. Their protests stretch 
beyond the value of lectures, grading, ex- 
aminations, beyond that impersonalization 
of the university which Nietzche called "the 
advancement of learning at the expense of 
man." ® The "childish irrationalism" of the 
student activist also focuses on such issues 
as the immorality of war and the injustices 



' Cited in Martin Duberman, "On Misunderstand- 
ing Student Rebels," The Atlantic Monthly, No- 
vember 1968, p. 65. 

^ Duberman, p. 66. 

" Duberman, p. 68. 



of racism, elements which the activists feel 
are more relevant than, for instance, the 
nature of physical fitness. 

At Columbia last year, for example, the 
issue was two-fold : the university's role in 
the community (specifically whether Co- 
lumbia should be allowed to take away 
Harlem public ])ark land), and whether the 
miiversity should be affiliated with the war- 
fare research of the IDA (Institute for De- 
fense Analyses). Concern in such issues 
can hardly be called childish; emotionalism 
here can hardly be called irrational but 
should, instead, be expected. What Barzun, 
Kennan, and Hook fail to see is that moder- 
ation can be a form of paralysis, even of 
immorality, like the moderate protest of 
Pope Pius Xn against the extermination 
of the Jews. 

If Barzun and others criticize the student 
activists, they are criticizing the most sensi- 
tive, most intelligent minority on the 
American campus. In a study conducted 
by Stanford's Nevitt Sanford, activist stu- 
dents were shown to have scored higher in 
a wide variety of personality tests, including 
theoretical skills, aesthetic sensitivity, de- 
gree of psychological autonomy, and social 
maturity. They also maintained consistently 
higher grade-point averages than the non- 
activists. In a similar study at the Univer- 
sity of Chicago, Richard A. Flacks, Pro- 
fessor of Psycholog}', arrived at comparable 
results. Both feel that student activism is a 
response to social conditions within both 
the university and the world at large. 

The American university is today in des- 
perate need of reform such as that sought 
by the student activists. The educational 
institution is being run to produce and trans- 
mit information, to manufacture knowledge 
to feed to its automatons. According to 
Martin Duberman, few professors take any 
interest in their students and refuse to en- 
gage more than a small part of themselves. 
Expression of originality is not encouraged; 



19 



as Barzun says, "The teacher is the pos- 
sessor and arbiter of truth." The curriculum 
is rigid, the atmosphere impersonal, the 
faculty self-serving, self-justifying, self-en- 
closed. It is no wonder, then, tliat students 
reject the university in demonstrations and 
turn elsewhere for the enliancement of life 
such an institution cannot offer. They seek 
it "in talk and games with friends, in films, 
clothes, . . . the lyrics of Bob Dylan, in the 
Doors, in pot and in acid." ' There is an 
urgency here ; the Kennans and the Hooks 
and Barzuns must sit up from their reclining 
chairs and take a closer look at the real 
student rebel. 



' Duberman, p. 68. 




20 



Aft Invitation From the Staff 

The Green Caldron publishes creative and expository writing, 
both prose and poetry, and offers space for graphics and non- 
verbal forms generally. The staff encourages interested univer- 
sity writers and artists to submit material for possible publica- 
tion. Material may be left at either the Green Caldron office, 
room 217b English Building, or the main office of the English 
Department, room 100. Permission-to-publish slips are avail- 
able at each of these locations. Although contributors may 
reclaim art work, all written material becomes the property of 
The Green Caldron and cannot be returned unless specific 
arrangements are made. 






THE GREEN 
CALDRON 



m. mm of the 

APR -7 1970 
UNiyEKSITY OF ILLINOIS 



SPRING, 1970 



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The Green Caldron is published each October and February 
by the Rhetoric Staff of the University of Illinois at Urbana- 
Champaign. Material is chosen from contributions submitted 
by university writers and artists. Permission to publish is 
obtained for full compositions, including those published anony- 
mously. Parts of compositions, however, may be published at 
the discretion of the committee in charge. 

Members of the committee in charge of The Green Caldron 
are Rosemarie Abendroth, Harold Blair, Marsha McCreadie, 
Philippe Perebinosoff, Donald Rude, Harold Walsh, and Mel 
Storm, editor. 



Copyright 1970 by THE GREEN CALDRON Suff 



Published by the R. F. Colwell Printing Corp. 
Champaign, Illinois 



crp 






^ 



mmm 



'M 



A MAGAZINE OF 
COLLEGE WRITING 



In August Heat 

Terence Pitts 2 

Tlie Historical Background 

of the Cinderella Legend 

Allen Hoffman 4 

\^ right Street 

Bonnie Lee Butler 6 

Linwood Avenue 

Charles W. Quick. Jr. 6 

Arrogance in Areopngiticu 
Marilyn Gundersen 7 

The Emperor's New Image 
Peggy Cederstroni 10 

Model 

Paul Pinzarrone 12 

The Long Journey Home 

IMark Hudson 13 

Carnival Road-March 

Raymond Joseph 14 

Mrs. Currv-Worrv 

Polly Bruiiaker ' 17 

Graphics by Michael J. Plautz 



Volume 38, Number 2 
Spring, 1970 
University of Illinois at 
Urbana-Champaign 



Chicago lies stretched out along the 
shores of Lake Michigan like a man bask- 
ing in the ]\Iid\vestern sun. In August, the 
sun s([ueezes the sweat out of the Loop 
businessmen, who, in keeping with the cold 
tradition of the Windy City, go about with 
their coats on ; at night, the breeze changes, 
or develops as the case may be. and the city 
fans itself in relative coolness. 

The last days of the August of 1968 
sent the city into a sprawling fever. On the 
twenty-fifth of that month the inescapable 
night set in violently and the city entered 
the nightmarish world of confused reality. 
The lake breezes came, but the heat took 
no notice. 

The Democratic Party was holding its 
convention, while troops of others held their 
paracon\ention. The closeness of two such 
extremes in jxilitical polarity indicated 
trouljle. The military was called in, not to 
jirotect all but to protect the thesis, while 
the antithesis gathered in the parks. The 
people in the parks sang songs, smoked 
some grass, and listened to the speakers ; 
the military affixed bayonets. 

The whimsy-music of a flute pirouetted 
in the air but could only be heard when the 
tide of human voices stilled. For when the 
tide came in and when its strange and 
clashing harmonies roared, nothing else 
mattered. This is what the jieople were 
there for: to display their harmony, their 
unit}-, which, for all its oddity of style, its 
internal contradictions in melody, and its 
Inizzing. swaying tensions, was apparent. 

Then came the assault. Trucks mounted 
with rows of siXJtlights which suddenly lit 
up crawled into the park like multi-eyed 



behemoths. Following them came vans 
spewing choking gas from tentacle-like 
hoses. And finally came the ])o]ice and the 
infantry, with gas masks making their faces 
goggle-eyed and distorted. The two armies 
met, one a vast, mobile, weapon-arrayed 
di\isiou and one sitting. 

Inside the bar, patrons stared at the 
television with sullen eyes that were glazed 
with liquor and watched the flickering illu- 
sions of what was happening only yards 
away in the park. No one looked out the 
window. While they watched and sipi:)ed, 
the park dis.solved and was replaced by a 
scene equally frantic — a surgeon's-eye view 
of the bowels of the Amphitheater. The 
commentator pointed out where several im- 
portant arteries lay, where several deep 
incisions had been made, and where the 
supposed cancer had set in. All this and 
more was shown the barroom freshmen, 
who were bewildered by these new found 
complexities in man's anatomy. 

The scene quickly narrowed and focused 
itself on the mayor of the city, who had 
just sprung from his chair like a king whose 
throne has just been denounced as excre- 
ment. His upward flung fist thundered a 
denial. (Strangely enough, that was the 
very gesture used by the street people.) At 
this point, the doctor-commentators quib- 
bled ; some called him the cancer and others 
the cure begun to work. The analysts began 
to analyze and then, in turn, were analyzed 
by others. After all was said, they agreed 
that, indeed, night had fallen and that the 
temperature in the sweltering city was still 
hot. Nothing more. 



Terence Pitts 



The Historical 



Background of the 
Cinderella Legend 



Allen Hoffman 



Mengael. Cinderella B. (1143-?), his- 
torical peasant jjirl who rose to he bride of 
the somewhat sketchy figure of Leon, Prince 
of Winior, a land that today cannot be defi- 
nitely identified.' either because of military 
domination at some later period, or because 
of some unknown act of nature." Her life 
is divided into two basic periods, the first 
lasting until approximately 1162, which is 
the year agreed upon by most authorities 
as that of her marriage to Leon. In the 
first period, iier mother having died in 
childbirth and her re-married father having 
passed away in a plague, she was fostered 
by her step-mother and three sisters. 
Margue. Herna. and Zeplieliii,^ all of rather 



' Buxtcluuk". ill li'iiiior: A Lost Continent^, 
trans. Hopkins (1911). pp. 403-406. identifies the 
nation with that of Carlos, opposing the stand 
taken by Freiglcn (Essays on Vanished Cix-iliza- 
tions, I, 741-793) tliat it was not at all affiliated 
with Carlos, but rather with a certain island 
north of Great Britain. 

' What is, therefore, actually known al)out 
Cinderella is derived from the handing down of 
historical records through essentially untraceable 
channels. In fact, all information about W'imor 
conies to us in tliis way. 

*A fourth sister, Hanoporc, or Haneiwris 
(O.E.) is claimed by some to have existed (Cl. 
Carson, History oj Leon, II, 567-598; Helewick, 
Uimor, pp. 39-41.). 



deviant behavior, who deprived the girl of 
education, compelled her to semi-slave labor. 
restricted her to the dwelling, and report- 
edly inflicted physical injuries upon her. 

It is known from research done by a 
monk of the latter 16th Century, Karl von 
Otelstadt, that the meeting of the prince with 
Cinderella occurred at a certain ball held, 
probably, in one of the royal mansions.' 
How so abject a young woman could make 
an ajjpearance at a royal festivity, however, 
is unknown; for evidence has it that on the 
very day of that festivity, Cinderella was 
seen by a scholar, one Hemir of Gant, dis- 
posing of the cinders from the household 
fireplace.'' Therefore, a change in her must 
have occurred within hours, but we have 
no real, concrete facts concerning the meta- 
morphoses necessary for such environmen- 



' Strat asserts that the ball, an annual harvest 
festival, was given in honor of Leon's uncle, Har- 
old, in the feudal castle of John of Dover, not in 
Wimor at all. His reasoning, although shallow 
at times, nevertheless deserves consideration. For 
this, see Doverian Hospitality and Feudal Cordial- 
ity ill the 1160's, pp. 643-49. 

^ Hence the name Cinderella, by the way. 



tal tran.sition." .Ml that we know for ccrt;iin 
is that Cinderella did appear at the ball not 
as a peasant, but, rather, suited for the 
occasion, and that she and Leon were 
mutually attracted. Leon, at some point in 
the evening, discovered that she was gone, 
but that she had left one of the glass sli])pers 
she had been wearing. He subsequently 
initiated a search for the woman who could 
fit into that shoe. Many tried to fulfill the 
requirement, and many even endeavored, 
unsuccessfully, to alter the physical dimen- 
sions of their feet. Finally Cinderella, hav- 
ing fitted her foot to the slipper, was ac- 
knowledged its rightful owner. The couple 
were married, and were still reigning when 
the last recorded event in Wimor took 
place.'' 



° It might be noted here that, according to Ha- 
men in Magical Metamorphoses and Mystical 
Miracles (1847), pp. 1-9, native legend attributed 
this change to the help of a so-called "fairy 
queen," with who.se aid the girl was transformed 
into a clean, beautifully attired object of love. 
The legend goes on to claim that a coach was 
also provided by this "queen," as well as a pair 
of glass slippers (which in reality, the girl did 
possess at the time of the ball). It further claims 
that she was required to return the coach by 
midnight, after which the coach would return to 
its previous state as, no less, a pumpkin. We 

~ As could be expected, Hamen here seizes the 
opportunity to try to persuade his readers that 
they "lived happily ever after" (Op. cit. pp. 11-12). 



Wright Street 



Wright Street. Eight o'clock A.M. Peo- 
ple are moving to and from Places. People 
being collegiate in bells and high-heeled 
boots, people being intellectual with fur- 
rowed frowns and waving arms, blue-jeaned 
and bearded people striding along being 
liberal, tentative |K'ople l)eing incons])icuous, 
l^roud people being admirable — masses of 
people whirling and eddying down the side- 
walk. Theti a heel catches ice in a shadowed 
corner. A slip. A jarring fall. A hasty 
pick-me-up-and-brush-me-off. No. I'm not 
bruised — but mv role is. 



Bonnie Lee Butler 



Linwood Avenue 



The crackling of flames fills the air. The 
heat, the searing heat spreads through my 
body setting it aflame. Doddering buildings 
crumble to cinder and dust ; the crackling 
becomes a roar, the roar a triumphant cry, 
as hostilities, too long dormant, declare 
themselves. The fire's glow is reflected in 
the faces of those about me; its followers. 
Cheering faces, tear-stained faces, and em- 
bittered masks. Black faces. Firemen and 
[wlice scurry about, frantically trying to 
solve the flames' unquenchable thirst. But 
with each stream of water the flames lea]i 
higher, now seeming to burn the sky itself. 



Chari.es W. Quick, Jr. 



Arrogance in Areopagitica 



Marilyn Gundersen 



In addition to his intellectual capability 
and his literary skill, John Milton, in his 
treatise to the Parliament of England. Areo- 
pagitica. reveals himself to be a remarkably 
clever, arrogant, and sn]ierior man. ;is evi- 
denced by the condescending tone he em- 
ploys throughout. A combination of the 
very formal, elaborate style and the per- 
suasiveness of his argument reveals the 
strength of Alilton's belief in intellectual 
freedom ;uid uncensorcd publication. Subtly 
blended with the sincerity of his conviction 
of the principle of freedom is a most amus- 
ing tone of mock respect for Parliament and 
of condescension for a group of men who 
he feels are without strong convictions and 
thus easily persuaded. Milton reveals this 
attitude not only in his direct address to 
and discussion of Parliament, but also in 
the type of argument he occasionally relies 
upon in support of his stand against cen- 
sorship. 

The very introduction of Areopagitica 
seems to indicate that the members of 
Parliament , in the author's opinion, are 
childishly gullible and particularly vulner- 
able to flattery and praise. Alilton's elabo- 
rate introductory address is rather artificial 
and hypocritical. (It may be argued that 
his style only seems artificial in comparison 
with today's simpler and more direct ap- 
proach, yet it hardly seems plausible that 
Milton could be sincere in his eloquently 
expressed admiration for a group that is 
subjecting its people to the tyrannical law 
of censorship.) In direct appeal to their 
weakness for flattery, Milton refers to the 
"faithful guidance and undaunted wisdom" 
of Parliament. He then cleverly assumes a 
seemingly apologetic and humble tone, com- 
bined with a bit of flattery, when he begins : 



If I sill mill lliiis I'ar presume upon the 
nicek demeanor of your civil and gentle 
greatness. Lords and Commons, as what 
your published order hath directly said that 
to gainsay, I might defend myself witli ease, 
if any should accuse me of being new or in- 
solent, did they but know how much better 
T find ye esteem it to imitate the old and 
elegant humanity of Greece than the bar- 
baric pride of a Hunnish and Norwegian 
stateliness.* 

Mis presumptuous manner of e.xpression is 
an attempt to force Parliament to take the 
only reasonable course of action, that of "old 
and elegant humanity," rather than one of 
"barbaric pride." 

Amidst all this profuse flattery and praise, 
Milton actually discusses the technique of 
"courtship and flattery," innocently deny- 
ing the use of either while giving the im- 
pression of complete honesty and openness. 
He acquits himself of such a charge by 
claiming that he is merely stating the facts 
of the situation on the basis of an objective 
observation and appraisal : 

For he who freely magnifies what hath been 
nobly done, and fears not to declare as 
freely what might be done better, gives ye 
the best convenant of his fidelity, and that 
his loyalest afTection and his hope waits on 
your proceedings. His highest praising is 
not flattery, and his plainest advice is a 
kind of praising ... (p. 3). 

This statement in fact gives an aura of 
nobility and goodness to Milton's attack, 
which is made, by his eloquent language, 
to appear as a compliment to Parliament. 
By his continual use of flattery, combined 
witli denials of his use of such an under- 



' John Milton. Arcopiniitica and Of Educatioit, 

ed. George H. Sabine ( New York : .•Kppleton- 

Century-Crofts, hic, 1951), pp. 3-4. Hereafter 
cited parenthetically in the te.xt. 



lianded device, Milton attempts to lull the 
receptive minds of the men into a state of 
uiu|uesti()ninp acquiescence. 

Milton's flattery is so skillful that what 
api)ears to he a polite suggestion may really 
he more akin to an ultimatum : 

If ye be thus resolved, as it were injury to 
think ye were not, I know not what sliould 
withhold me from presenting ye with a fit 
instance wherein to show both that love of 
truth which ye eminently profess, aiid that 
uprightness of your judgment which is not 
wont to Ik- partial to yourselves, by judging 
over again that ( )r<liT which ye liavc or- 
dained "to regulate printing . . ." (pp. -1-5). 

Milton not only iin])lics that in order to 
preserve their integrity, the memhers of 
Parliament had hetter reconsider their stand 
on censorship ; he also ])ortrays himself as 
hcing remarkably generous and magnani- 
mous hy |)roviding Parliament with the 
opportunity to do so. 

Another of Milton's argumentative de- 
vices is to emphasize the injustice and 
tyrannical basis of censorship. Relating its 
history in considerable detail, he states that 
the origin of book-licensing can he traced 
to "the most anlichristian council and the 
most tyrannous incjuisition that ever in- 
(|tiired" (p. 13). He does not continue with 
a bitter attack upon Parliament : instead, he 
leaves it to the individual members in- 
wardly to assume the guilt of sup|)orting so 
dictatorial and destrtictive a mea.sure. In 
most contradictory terms, Milton jwints out 
that this terribly imjiist and harmful law, 
a "disgraceful puni.shment" (p. M), a 
"disesteem of every knowing person alive" 
(]). .52 ), has been accepted and ai)i)lied by 
a I'arliamcnt which he earlier describes as 
a "mild and e<|ual government" (\i. 3), 
jxjsscssive of "faithful guidance and un- 
daunted wi.sdom" (|). 2). Nevertheless, 
Miltun must avoid the alienation of Parlia- 
ment ; thu>, even when showing the close 
cnniiectinii between l'.irli;nneiU :md the Li- 



censing Act, he stresses the innocence of the 
London lawmakers : 

That ye like not now tliese most certain au- 
thors of this licensing order, and tliat all 
sinister intention was far distant from your 
thoughts when ye were importuned the pass- 
ing it, all men who know the integrity of 
your actions, and how ye honor truth, will 
clear ye readily (p. 13). 

Milton's sincerity in proclaiming Parlia- 
ment's innocence of the significance and 
background of the licensing order is ques- 
tionable. Combined with the suggestion that 
Parliament is incapable of assuming respon- 
sibility for its actions is his implication of 
the ignorance of its members, whom he 
denies to have any knowledge of the history 
of censorship. 

Milton's ambiguous and distorted expres- 
sion of the existing situation further implies, 
without explicitly defining, Parliament's 
guilt : 

Ye cannot make us now less callable, less 
knowing, less eagerly pursuing of the truth, 
unless ye first make yourselves, that made us 
so, less the lovers, less the founders of our 
true liberty. We can grow ignorant again, 
brutish, formal, and slavish, as ye found us ; 
hut you then must first l)ecome that which 
yi- cannot lie, oppressive, arbitrary, and tyr- 
annous, as they were from whom ye have 
freed us (p. 48 ) . 

His expressed faith in Parliament's good- 
ness and the impossibility of its becoming 
"ojipressive, arbitrary, and tyrannous," is a 
rather ambiguous compliment when one 
considers that at the very time of his state- 
ment Parliament is sui^jxirting and enforc- 
ing the very embodiment of tyranny, the 
licensing law. 

In addition to his direct appeal to his 
audience, Milton, in support of his stand 
against censorship, sets forth a number of 
argimients. many of which are quite logical 
and worthy of serious consideration. 1 low- 
ever, interspersed among these more worthy 
explanations are several often exaggerated 



and far-fetched comparisons and arguments, 
in each case clothed in a most formal and 
serious style to make them appear credible. 
In relating the history of hook-licensing. 
^Milton describes the actual process of the 
law's application in this manner : 

Sometimes five imprimaturs are seen to- 
gether, dialogue-wise, in the piazza of one 
title-page, complimenting and ducking each 
to other with their shaven reverences, 
whether the author, who stands by in per- 
plexity at the foot of his epistle, shall to the 
press or to the sponge (p. 12). 

Milton makes a complete mockery of what 
to Parliament is an important legislative 
activity. 

Milton proposes several extreme exam- 
ples of exaggeration in his attempt to con- 
vince Parliament of the danger and iise- 
lessness of censorship. To illustrate its 
tyrannical nature, he applies the principle of 
censorship to all aspects of life, thus mak- 
ing the whole idea appear absurd. In 
another example, he elevates the value of 



the book to an extreme degree in order to 
stress the dangers of the licensing law : 

Unless wariness be used, as good almost 
kill a man as kill a good book : who kills 
a man kills a reasonable creature, God's 
image ; but he w ho destroys a good book, 
kill reason itself, kills the image of God, 
as it were, in the eye (p. 6). 

Seen in these terms, the potential danger 
of the licensing law makes its very existence 
seem foolhardy, for who would attempt to 
enforce a law which may possibly "kill the 
image of God." 

That Milton is speaking down to his audi- 
ence, and that he looks upon the members 
of Parliament as insipid, vain, and gullible, 
is apparent from the several passages 
pointed out. In seriously presenting an 
effective and thought-provoking case against 
censorship, he skillfully adds a tongue-in- 
cheek comment on his concept of Parlia- 
ment, revealing as he does so his arrogant, 
condescending attitude and a sharp and 
clever sense of humor. 



Colleges are the major cause of campus disorder. 



Sex is on the brains of all college males, but it is the girl's obligation to control these 
desires. We on the fourth floor have just begun to prove this. 



Consider a student at any university which has always been taught to avoid liiiuor. 

9 



GRin FAIRY TALCS DEPT. 

Hc;r gang/ l+'s story time agoin as TH£ <oRe£N CfMOROU presents 

THE EMPEROR'S 

wriifcn Mid 
NEW IM AG E Pe^" y' Ceder ^Vom 




I need a new inrvage. 
Enough of ihis forcjotten 
" mftn bit. I'm Enrtoerornow 
What do you tnink? 



.. huh? Yes. 
Yes. I 
■^hink so. 



Good-^Aet 
me ^he- 
Royal 
tOLvlor. 



-^ 




— uh. +his isn't WSomethi^c) less run-of-+he 
exactly what I r-^ Ailhouse. Let me m^kc it 
h^d in mi nd. / \ clear, I'm not Ordinary . 




10 



rn fix him 
somedothes 
thot c6n'+ 
b€ beat ! 

\v — 






QroovyjSir 
can't be beat 



\lmus+ 

show my 
eople the 
mperor'S 

new lm69C 



Go+to , 
waif for ir 
+0 come 
amound 
eiqain on 
mt loom„ 



here 
comes 



les I 





^■■^ 



_j 




nommy! Has "Hair come 
to -the Emperor's Ratece? 



o 



(_:> 








..uh.Aet me 
say this, 
will someone 
h&nd me 
my old 
ima(^€ ? 



^ 






11 



Model 



.and there atop the kitchen counter 
outlined 
yet transparent in waist-high body stockinette 
she {xjses. 
ribbons of brandy silk lie unravelled 

across her shoulder, 
left arm extended upward symbolically clutching 
an eight ounce glass of grade A 

fortified 
whole 

milk. 
Her protruding ribs straining in vain 
to burst out of their luscious confinement of innocent flesh. 

and the subtle expression of her smiling breast — 
so inno.xious in ghastly white — 
asks why such a self-portrait stance 
is permissible only for the 

(liiotation mark mannequins frozen in the display case, 
surely her very sinew and bone are not 
Hidden Secrets to be shielded from a caressing e>e now 
and examined in detail at her embalmment. 
slight muscle tremors and a temporary balance loss, 
stockinette wrinkles in the groin 
and her left knee bends 
upsetting the container of homogenized Mother Xature 
over chairs and dusty linoleum 
her thin tight lips begin to tremble 
ner\ous sweat 

and twitching spasms of muscle fibers 
she lowers herself and steps 

off her platform. 
all forced composure and poise she forgets. 

\et her intrinsic spine and delicate breasts 

never cease, 
is it fashionable for mannequins to sip milk? 



Paul Pinzarrone 
12 



The Long Journey Home 



It was four o'clock in the morning and I 
was making the long journey home from 
Quincy. My girl had been asleep since we 
left, so there wasn't anyone to talk to, and 
my conscious thinking hardly seemed to 
exist any more. The constant hum of the 
worn out old Chevy and the endless white 
lines that seemed to appear out of nowhere 
on the highway were the only things I 
could concentrate on. And even that took 
effort. As I rounded a curve into a long 
stretch of road I thought I saw a red light 
in the distance, but it disappeared almost 
as soon as it had appeared, so I didn't 
bother to think about it. And I drove on 
for a while. Time wasn't a part of me or 
the night. Suddenly the light I had seen 
appeared again, but now it was a myriad 
of red lights, continually flashing. I pulled 
the car off the road and walked slowly 
toward them. In the eerie light I could see 
people crowded around a smashed and 
twisted heap of metal. I saw the ojsened 
mouth of a person who was being pulled 
and separated from the wreckage, but I 
could not hear the scream. My girl said 
something to me, but I could not hear her. 
All I could do was see — the lights, the cars, 
the uniformed men. the torn bodies, the 
blood, the unrecognizable faces. Surely 
there was some way I fit into this, some way 
I could help. But there wasn't. I turned 
and walked slowly back to the car. The 
rest of the trip home was the same — the 
hum of the old Chev)' engine, the endless 
white lines. 



Mark Hudson 
13 




H 



"Well, ah yo' lissen. 
Carnival ain far yo' know. 
Ah got to go bill meh booth in jircparation 
Fo' de jump up celebration. 
Ah hear it gon' be our biggest spree ever 
\\\(\ de niocko junibi. aliens and continentals." 

On a pencil dot in the Caribbean Carnival comes 
Like a legitimate mass orgy. 
The tourist-trodden automobile-jammed part 

of town shakes as 
The sun beats down 

.\nd the peoples' skin cries pleasure sweat. 
Island scratch-band music screeches to 
Uncontrolled laughter — rowdy raucous, 
As kalaloo suckling pig fry /boil fish pate 
And fungi/souse taste scent through the scene. 

"Wid de steelban' just aroun' de corna, 
Meh son, y'un gon' tramp? 

A gah big t'ing tonight down by De Bamboushay and De Hide-Away ; 
Ah onlv gon' go if Archie take meh. 
Lately ah been seein' him avoidin' meh 
Spending all he mont-y up on Island Girl Audrey foolishly. 
Ah gon' fill yo' in on de latest gossip, de hottest melee. 
Bull first let's watch de parade from De Waterfront." 

The rough waters scintillate with the sun 
splinter diamonds 
Which glitter the smooth blue-green waters — 
All reflect the land festivities. 
Exotic drinks in the steaming sun heat 
Seduce the dark clouds — drizzle! 
Miss Carnival runs from her open throne to 

cindered shelter, 
While street jieople rush back streets, and 
Shoot up alleys for 48-hours-a-day nightclubs. 
Whirlwinds swish the swirling grass skirts 
And clash with kicked beer cans and liquor bottles 

in the potpourri of accent tongues. 
Panting laughter ends the wet dream magic, 
Midnight appears and the people say 
"Next year Bacchanal will rise again." 

15 



"Good lawd. Archie gon' ga aiiotlicr chile tliis Carnival. He done gam and full up 
Audrey, pumping on her, out of her he own image. Come Matilda, mahn, let's lissen to 
Archie brag about he latest doings. Ah hear he goin' make ah calypso from it, and it gon' 
be dc road-march on de other island. Maybe he mighten be aroun' ne.xt Carnival. Look 
mahn, see de singing about it ahready :" 

Island Girl Audrey 
She don' wear no panty 
All about de country 
Looking for Elmer Gantry. 



Ah heard her sing 



12 o'clock ah night 

she rappc-d on meh door. 

Ah wahn go home in de marnin' gimme piece 

of fish I am feeling fishable. 

Ah wahn go home in de marnin' gimme piece 

of flesh I aTu feeling flcshable. 

Ah wahn go home in de marnin' gimme piece 

of do I am feeling doable. 



So we went by de beach 

She went in 

And ah went in afta. 

I'll never forget 

Everything was set 

She told meh yeah, she told meh no 

She told meh no, no, no, no, no, no, yeah. 



Well then, it was fire fire 

In meh wire wire 

Ah, ya yi, ah ya yi 

Hoi' she in ah coma and stuck in meh bonana 

Ah ya yi, ah ya yi. 



Now she making wedding plans 

Out ah obeah pot 

Carryin' meh name to voodoo man. 



R.w.MOND Joseph 
16 



Mrs. Curry- Worry 



Polly Brubaker 



"Aye, iiic imini, not doing so well today," 
said the tiny woman as slie moved quickly 
around the large institution kitchen. "I can 
be glad I 'ave me own good 'ealth so I can 
go and 'elp 'er. Not doing well at all today. 
And me Joe, in bed again today. And me 
Judy, no 'elp to me. Always off to work." 

The woman speaking was named Mrs. 
Curry. She was very small for her five feet. 
She probably weighed less than eight stone. 
She was not what anyone would call pretty, 
and one guessed she never had been. .She 
had the kind of looks that make you imag- 
ine that when she was a young woman her 
mother's friends would say a bit conde- 
scendingly, "She's got a nice personality," 
or with a suggestion of pity in their tone, 
"She's pleasant to be around." 

Her appearance did not change favorably 
as she grew older. Men's looks sometimes 
do. A young fellow who isn't particularly 
good-looking will be transformed into a 
"distinguished gentleman" with a bit of 
silver hair at the temples. Mrs. Curry had 
the silver hair all right, but one certainly 
couldn't call her "distinguished." Her pores 
were very large, and though she was only 
a proper bag of bones her cheeks were 
saggy. She wore National Health glasses 
with the clear plastic frames. Mrs. Curry 
must have gotten them long before. The 
nose piece and wings were quite yellowed 
and in some places even a bit pink. Because 
of the lens prescription her eyes appeared 
even smaller than they actually were. 

She was very pale, not because she had 
poor health, but because she was never 
outside when the sun was shining. But 
then, lots of people in the west country were 
that way. Only the children had pink in 
their complexions, and that was due to the 
cold, wet wind, not sunshine. 

Mrs. Curry's smock was drawn loosely 
at her waist; yet it was readily apparent 



17 



tliat the body inside it was sliglit. Two 
skinny bow-legs appeared from the niidcalf 
down, below the smock's hemline. She was 
even a bit pigeon-toed, some of the domes- 
tics would say. But she walked so ([uickly 
that it was hard to know. She walked faster 
than some of the others could run. Her 
legs in motion looked like the wheels of a 
coach going 'round, and one could well 
imagine a small cloud of dust being kicked 
uyt where she darted about. 

She did everything at one speed — double- 
time. W'ashing windows, walls, floors, 
dishes, everything doubletime. She was the 
fastest dishwasher you could imagine. The 
other domestics who worked in the kitchen 
all said that Mrs. Curry washed the dishes 
so fast that she didn't get them clean. But 
that wasn't true. Mrs. Curry was quick and 
thorough ; and she got the dishes clean. The 
grumblers, the ones who didn't work as 
fast, were the ones responsible for the egg 
left on the fork jirongs and the greasy cup 
handles. When these things were jx)iiited 
out to then) they winild (li.sgustedly snihble, 
"That Mrs. Curry. hunii)f," even if their 
hands were still in tlic dishwater. 

"Mrs. Curry-Worry" some called her, 
and it did seem to suit her. "Oh, 'eaven's 
above," Mrs. Curry would say when some- 
one called her that, .and then laugh and 
laugh as though it were a clever joke. She 
would have a few moiuents laughter every 
morning because Mrs. Wat.son would say, 
"Guhmornin', Mrs. Curry-Worry. What's 
the news of the world?" Then they'd each 
laugh. Both women had been working in 
the institution for .seventeen years and had 
started each day in this manner for all 
seventeen of them. 

"Did you read in the Ncivs that story 
about Jackie?" Mrs. Curry said as she 
walked (|uickly across the kitchen and began 
rnimiii).; water in the sink for the morninij's 



dishes. "It was just 'orrible, terrible. By 
the children's nurse. She said ... It was 
ju.st terrible." Steam coming from the hot 
water tap had fogged Mrs. Curry's glasses. 
She took them off and wiped them hurriedly 
with the dish drying cloth. "It said that she 
nearly drove 'er 'usband to bankruptcy, but 
'e wouldn't deny 'er anything." Though she 
said this fast, there was a bit of a reverent 
pause when she said "Jackie." 

"Sstt, oh, really," said Mrs. Watson, 
"Hmmmmm." 

"That's what it said in the Xcu's. \ con- 
fidential interview with the children's 
nanny." Mrs. Curry went on. "And isn't 
it simply terrible about 'er marrying again ?" 

"Ow's Judy?" asked Mrs. Watson, in- 
quiring about Mrs. Curry-Worry's only 
child. 

"She watched bonny Prince Charlie on 
the telly last night. 1 think she's got a spe- 
cial shine for 'im. She thinks 'c's. . . Now 
what word did she say? . . . Oh, I'll think 
of it. . . ." Mrs. Curry looked puzzled. 
Even though she was deep in thought her 
hands were moving quickly washing and 
rinsing dishes. 

"I see. Ummm huhmmm," said Mrs. 
Watson. One wondered if she even listened 
to Mrs, Curry. She seemed lost in her own 
oblivion. She was humming to herself : yet 
she appeared polite. 

"Mature," Mrs. Curry said a bit loudly. 
"That's what Judy called bonny Prince 
Charles. Mature." A genuine smile had 
come over Mrs. Curry's countenance. She 
even paused a second from her dish wash- 
ing, then started up again double-time and 
said, "Oh. yes, me Judy thinks 'e's ])roper 
special. A 'audsome young prince. \\'e 
should all be proud of 'im. 'E'll make a fine 
king, Judy said, because 'e's mature." Mrs. 
Curry smiled to herself again. "Ves, me 



18 



liiiK's 5;(it (|uit(- ;i sliine tor 'iiii. Charles, 
she 'as." 

"Oh, really. 1 see," said .Mrs. Walson as 
she walked across tiie room to dry the 
dishes. L'p until this time she had jii.st been 
sitting on a stool in the kitchen doing 
nothing. 

"\\'hat you having for dinner tonight, 
Mrs. Curry? Curry?" said Mrs. Watson, 
and they both laughed. 

"Mrs. Curry. Curry!" laughed Mrs. 
Curry. This was another of their favorite 
ilcrcr jokes. It never seemed old for them, 
especially for Mrs. Curry. 

"I caii't make curry, you know," she 
said. "But in two years me Joe and me"ll 
be 'aving our twenty-fifth wedding anniver- 
sary. I plan for us to go to a restaurant 
and order a big pot of curry with all the 
white rice you can imagine. I'm planning 
that for me Joe and me." These plans 
were not imknown to Mrs. Watson. Mrs. 
Curry had talked about the night at the 
restaurant before. 

"Now. do you know what, Mrs. Curry?" 
said Mrs. \\'atson. "This morning the 
bloke that delivers our milk asked me what 
I thought of socialism." It was unusual for 
Mrs. \\'atson to put any expression into her 
voice but she noticeably raised her pitch 
when she came to the word 'socialism.' " 

"Aye," said Mrs. Curry, as though she 
were pronouncing a long word. 

"Before six in the morning this bloke, 
you know Mr. Sealy's son that goes to 
university, wants to talk about socialism." 

"Aye," said Mrs. Curry, washing six 
dishes for every one that Mrs. Watson 
dried. 

" "There's a smart bloke,' Hubert said 
when I told him," said Mrs. Watson slid- 
ing back into her quietly uninteresting 
voice, as she told Mrs. Curry what her 
husband had said. 



".\ntl wiiat did you sa_\- about soc-i-al- 
ism ?" asked Mrs. Curry. .She ])ronounced 
the word slowly, by syllables, as though 
she were unfamiliar with it. 

"1 didn't say anything at si.\ in the morn- 
ing. Just bid him thanks and a.sked for 
some fresh butter — extra," said Mrs. Wat- 
son. .She had stopped drying dishes, al- 
though there were still ])lenty left on the 
drainboard, and had found her way across 
the kitclien to the stool again. 

Mrs. Curry paused for a moment, too. 
She leaned on the thin ledge that separated 
the double sink : she was looking intently 
at some point in space. "Soc-i-al-ism," 
she whispered faintly to herself, pronounc- 
ing it with the same slow accuracy as be- 
fore "Soc-i-al-ism." Her facial expression 
changed for an instant like the flicker of 
a candle flame before it goes out. "Com- 
niun-ism." she whispered a bit more audibly 
than before, and with the same slow ac- 
curacy. 

She turned to where her friend was 
sitting. "Which one's the bad one. soc-i-al- 
ism or com-mun-ism?" asked Mrs. Currv. 
ob\iously puzzled. Mrs. Watson didn't act 
as if she had heard the question. She didn't 
answer. Mrs. Curry's face retained the 
thoughtful expression a moment more, then 
she started washing the cutlery, three forks 
at a time. 

Mrs. Watson got up and walked liack- 
to the drainboard. Rather than dry the 
dishes she decided to put away the ones 
she had already dried. She began very mo- 
notonously to stack plates, saucers and ciqis 
on a tray. 

They worked in silence for a while. Mrs. 
Curry, far ahead of Mrs. Watson, finished 
washing the dishes. She got a fresh drying 
cloth and began to help dry the huge mound 
of steaming dishes that were still stacked 
on the drainboard. Mrs. Currv could dry 



(lislies even faster than she could wash 
them, so it wouldn't be long before they 
would be ready for their other niornin}; 
work. 

"I've been reading the advert's'ments. 1 
got me Joe reading 'em. too. Either this 
.Sunday or the one after they're .sui)]X)sed 
to "ave another siiecial jirogram at that 
church downtown. It was marvelous last 
time. I'm going to get me Joe to come 
with me this time. It's at a bad time — 
six-thirty Sunday night — but I'm going tu 
get me Joe to come, too." Mrs. Curry went 
right on talking even though no one was 
listening. She just enjoyed remembering 
things and talking about them to herself. 
And Mrs. Watson was content to let her. 
so Mrs. Curry went right on. undiscouraged 
by the circumstance. 

"I sat in the last row. because I'm not 
a member of that church. Joe and me gfi 
to the parish church in the village — even 
though me Joe doesn't like the vicar — you 
know. Well, in walks this bloke about 
thirty. Real shar]). you know." Mrs. Curry 
was getting so involved in the memory that 
she was drying dishes as slowly as Mrs. 
Watson. " 'E 'ad black wavy 'air. combed 
real nice and one of tho.se littk'. dipiK-il 
moustaches. 'E was gorgeous, with that 
wavy 'air." She paused as though she had 
forgotten what she was talking about, but 
quickly ])icked uj) the thread again. " 'E 
was wearing a .satin cai)e that came down 
to the floor, of the deepest midnight blue 
.... and there were gold stars on the 
cape and a moon, you know, like a banana- 
shape, right here." Mrs. Curry marked the 
spot on her shoulder with her right hand. 



"It was gorgeous, 'is cape was. The deep- 
est midnight blue." Mrs. Curry savored 
the expression. She shuffled from side to 
side as though she were wearing the cai)e. 
and she could feel it swinging around her 
ankles. "The pulpit in the front of the 
church was covered with a cloth of satin in 
the deepest midnight blue, like 'is cajx*. 
.\nd in the center of the table there was a 
cr_\ stal ball. 'E described what 'e saw in it. 
'E was describing the outside of the church. 
I couldn't see anything. I wished I was 
sitting in the front row. I 'spect I wouldn't 
'ave seen anything though. I don't 'ave the 
]x}wer. you know." 

"Then 'e called some i>eople to come up 
and 'e would tell em about their future. 
'E ju.st called members of the church. Eirst. 
'e asked 'em to give 'im something valuable 
that they 'ad with em. And 'e 'eld it close 
to is 'eart while 'e looked into the crystal 
ball. 'E knew everything about 'em. 'E 
was gorgeous. I thought that if 'e called 
me up to the front I would 'ave to give 'im 
me glasses. I wonder if they would do all 
right. I didn't 'ave anything else valuable 
with me." Here Mrs. Curry paused. "I 
keep watching the advert's'ments — maybe 
'e'll come again soon." 

"How's y'r nuim"-" asked Mrs. Watson 
ab.sently. 

.•\s she stared out the window, still think- 
ing of the gorgeous man witli the wavy 
hair. Mrs. Curry said. "Oh. me mum's not 
doing well today. I'm thankful 1 ave me 
own good 'ealth. so I can go an' 'elp 'er. 
I'm .going to see 'er on the way 'ome to- 
night and make 'er a cup'a before seeing 
me loe." 



20 



An Invitation From the Staff 

The Green Caldron publishes creative and expository writing, 
both prose and poetry, and offers space for graphics and non- 
verbal forms generally. The staff encourages interested univer- 
sity writers and artists to submit material for possible publica- 
tion. Material may be left at either the Green Caldron office, 
room 217b English Building, or the main office of the English 
Department, room 100. Permission-to-publish slips are avail- 
able at each of these locations. Although contributors may 
reclaim art work, all written material becomes the property of 
The Green Caldron and cannot be returned unless specific 
arrangements are made. 



i 



I 



UNWERtin Of ILLINOISURUM 





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