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,8The Daily Tar HeelThursday, November 12, 1987
95th year of editorial freedom
Tackling a segregated campus
There are 16sor- -prities
at UNC. At
hone of them do
blacks and whites
call each other sis-
ter. The fraternity situation is hardly
better. Of more than 1,500 members,
only a handful of black brothers
belong to white fraternities. There is
one white in a black fraternity.
' Fraternities and sororities are an
easily defined segment of college
society, and their lack of integration
, represents the social travesty on the
campus as a whole. Take a look
; around the Pit, at the tables in Chase
: and Lenoir, at the movies and parties
; during the weekend. When it comes
: to casual interaction, let alone friend-
ship, racial distinctions still exist.
This is not the case everywhere, nor
: with everyone. But it is still there.
: Much of it is due to self-segregation
: on both sides. Sadly, there are hard
; ships involved when it comes to
: integrating groups such as fraternities
and sororities. It would be difficult to
: be the first and only white or black
in a group dominated by the other
Junior Chris Mumford has founded
; a group designed to raise awareness
: of racial issues among UNC students.
; The group will not hold radical
demonstrations. There will be no
chains or shacks. Instead, discussion
and involvement is the key. As Mum-
Put political humor in its place
The comic strip occu
pies a curious position in
the hierarchy of political
cartoons have been a
perennial fixture in that
hierarchy, and some
might argue that they
have in fact become the
preeminent means of
satire. But the comic strip
remains a vehicle for
tTH6N OPUS mKS IN
flfJP 5AY5 SOMemM
Certainly the series "Pogo" began
to change the nature of the comics
page, and Garry Trudeau single
handedly revolutionized the way
comics were regarded with his strip
"Doonesbury," an overtly political
series that never pretended to be
otherwise and was firmly rooted in the
Most papers that run "Doonesbury"
now put it on the editorial page, a
recognition both of the strip's influence
and its propensity for harsh satire. In
the past week, echoes of the many
criticisms leveled at Trudeau have been
A number of papers Friday pulled
Berke Breathed's "Bloom County"
because of a panel in which the scab
replacement for Opus, a tiny penguin
named Ollie Funt, says "Reagan
Sucks!" The Dallas Morning News
and several other newspapers made a
I W J sEffi
Of streams and rivers, and of youth
There is something almost mystic about
trout fishing. You wade into a slow-moving
river, the water cold against your thighs,
and flick the fly rod so that the fly just
; dances on the surface of the water, and wait
, for the trout to rise to the bait, wait for
it to take the bait. Let the early-morning
mist rise off the river as the sun fragments
through the pines, warming you even as
you feel the air chill against your skin.
It's as if it doesnt even matter if the trout
strikes. What matters is the moment, the
experience. This isn't opening day on one
. of the big New York or Pennsylvania rivers,
when fishermen crowd each other and
tangle their lines and growl in anger at the
presence of so many. This is a late spring
; day on a Connecticut or a Michigan stream.
, Alone in the woods, you are pure with the
' wilderness, free of what was and embracing
what is. This is that same sort of day, in
1 the same sort of place, with your father
as he shows you how to tie a fly, how to
tie it so the fly will land well and seduce
It's Big Two-Hearted River, a place you
Jill Gerber, Editor
DEIRDRE FALLON, Managing Editor
SALLY PEARSALL, News Editor
JEAN LUTES, University Editor
DONNA LEINWAND, State and National Editor
JEANNIE FARIS, City Editor
JAMES SUROWIECKI, Sports Editor
FELISA NEURINGER, Business Editor
JULIE BRASWELL, Features Editor
Elizabeth Ellen, Am Editor
Charlotte Cannon, Photography Editor
CATHY McHUGH, Omnibus Editor
ford said, "We want to convince rather
than force change."
First on the group's agenda is a
forum on the Greek situation. The
event will feature a question-and-answer
session on self-segregation
within the Greek system. It is a
worthwhile idea. Greeks can help
change attitudes of the college as a
whole when it comes to social ideas.
Historically, integrating the races in
terms of personal relationships has
been the most difficult of all forms of
integration. Indeed, it has really yet
to happen, especially in the South.
Crossing racial boundaries will not be
easy for the Greek system. But the
integration of fraternities would be a
step toward building mutual respect
among whites and blacks in society.
Yet social integration should not
rely on fraternities and sororities. The
Greek system only represents a vis
ible,organized body that has been
dragging its heels. If campus racism
is to end, there will have to be changes
in other areas. Mumford realizes this,
and plans at least two other events this
year: a debate on campus living
arrangements and a panel discussion
on preferential treatment by race.
There has been protest against
racism on campus, in very general
terms. Most students agree that the
campus is segregated. Mumford offers
a more specific course to a solution.
similar decision about
Wednesday's strip, in
which Milo uses the word
"sucks" while correcting
Opus' attempt to dupli
cate the epithet of his
The censorship of the
strip is obviously deplor
able, and should be con
demned. The more inter
esting question, though, is
whether Breathed should
be allowed to make commentary of
this sort in a series printed on the
comics page. It is the cartoonists'
prerogative to comment on that which
he finds interesting, without regula
tions or bounds. All comic strips in
some sense involve social commentary,
and the step from social to political
criticism is a small one.
The ideal solution would be to begin
printing "Bloom County" on the
editorial page along with "Doones
bury." Breathed won the Pulitzer Prize
for editorial cartooning in April, a
clear recognition that he is working
within that genre. And while Milo and
Opus may not yet have the same
authority as Mike and Zonker,
Breathed's strip has freed itself of its
earlier limitations and flourished as a
work of satire. As such, it belongs next
to the columns of George Will and
the cartoons of Pat Oliphant. James
can flee to and be reborn, a place where
you are blessed because you are there. On
the river, purposes are clear, and motiva
tions are clean. There is no fear, at least
none you are afraid of feeling. The burned
out emotions of the world you know vanish.
And if it really doesn't matter if the trout
strikes, when it does everything suddenly
makes sense. Maybe then is the moment
of revelation, when you lose yourself in the
ecstasy of that steady pull of the line and
feel the trout flee and you let the line out
and wait for him to tire, like you know
he will. And even if you don't think about
it until later, when the trout strikes faith
returns. You know that something is pure,
that something can be right.
When you have that knowledge,' even
only for a moment, you keep returning to
it, keep wanting to find it again. Trout
fishing is the domain of the young, but only
in the sense that trout fishing is the domain
of the innocent. It restores the wasteland
and cleanses the heart, and once you have
battled the trout, nothing is quite the same
Gays and' lesbians deserve freedom
There have been many letters to The
Daily Tar Heel lately about CGLA
funding. No other group's funding
is being questioned. Why is the CGLA
being singled out? Is it because of hatred?
I look back at my childhood and see
the hate that surrounded the adults in my
life. It is still alive today but in new ways.
Maybe people should take a closer look
at the hard-fought rights that blacks won
in the 1960s and the 1970s and are still
fighting for today. It was not so long ago.
I remember growing up in an all-white
trailer park. Blacks were not allowed to
walk the streets or visit their white friends.
I remember being in the park office and
seeing the manager pick up his shotgun
and load it. He received a telephone call
that a "nigger" was in the park. He was
going hunting for the man and said he was
going "to kill himself a nigger." Ill never
forget that day or the fear I had for the
black man's life. I wanted to run out and
try to find the man to warn him, but my
mother had a firm grasp on me. She
wouldn't let me go; she said the man
deserved to get what was coming to him.
I ask, what does a man deserve for
walking on a street in free America? Death?
What do two gay men or two lesbians
deserve for holding hands or kissing on
a street corner in free America? Are we
not all created equal? Do we not all have
the same rights to life, liberty and the
pursuit of happiness?
I was one of the 200,000 people who
marched on Washington last month. The
crowd was so large that I had to wait four
hours after the march began before those
around me even began to move. I missed
the entire rally at the end of the march,
To the editor:
The Nov. 9 editorial, "Share
shorter lines, higher fees,"
about graduate students' oppo
sition to paying for the tele
phonic registration system was
the most insensitive and illog
ical that I have ever read.
Graduate students foot 30
percent of student fees, but we
by no means receive 30 percent
of the benefits from them. Case
in point: the Carolina Athletic
Association, which received
nearly $9,000 in student fees for
such functions as "Blue Blitz,"
about which graduate students
care little, if anything. This
same CAA, meanwhile, has
apparently been too busy to
respond to requests from grad
uate students simply to estab
lish a user-funded child care
center at the Woollen-Fetzer
gym complex so that student
mothers could actually avail
themselves of facilities they are
already paying for. The list of
such examples could go on for
pages, but space does not
The Graduate and Profes
sional Student Federation was
founded some 15 years ago
because of just such concerns.
Graduate students were so
disgruntled at that time that
they tried to form their own
student government, and the
GPSF was the compromise
result. It is interesting to note
that undergrads who may be
annoyed that $19,500 per year
goes to the GPSF pay not one
penny of that sum, as it comes
solely from graduate student
fees as specified in the
When the left drinks with the right
This is what happened:
Undaunted by the afternoon's loss
to Clemson, Ginger, Michelle and
I wandered down Franklin Street in search
of a suitable watering hole. Our stadium
drink buzz had worn off, and the little Jim
Beam still left in our bloodstreams was
crying out for reinforcement.
Franklin Street iwas filled to capacity.
Little clusters of orange-shirted Clemson
fans huddled together for protection. Three
of them asked us where to go to get a
beer and hang out. Stifling an impulse to
send them into deepest Carrboro, we told
them to try Four Corners.
We never found out if they got in. The
line there was ridiculous and so we moved
on, past Henderson Street (also a line) and
finally to Bub's, where we walked right in
and sat down in a mysteriously deserted
"A pitcher!" we cried, and $3 later we
had one. "Quarters!" Ginger cried, and the
game was on.
But not so fast. Two guys who had sat
in front of us at the game drifted through
the crowd, and we flagged them down. We
had spoken to them briefly when their third
comrade had drunkenly wielded his
pompon like a machete, flinging it back
into Ginger's face. I had informed him he
was in no condition to operate a pompon
and had taken it, making myself a new
enemy. After, the game we had seen him
curled up by the men's room in a puddle
The tall guy with glasses introduced
himself as Keith; the short dark one, as
John. And now the quarters game was on.
but that was OK. I had come to our
nation's capital to march for my freedom
and say, "I am a gay person and I will
not be silenced."
I marched before everyone's eyes to
demand my freedom as an American
citizen. I have broken no laws. Why should
I not be given the same rights that others
take for granted? Many would argue that
I deserve no rights because they consider
the way I choose to love immoral. Am
I not a human being? If so, then I demand
the right to be treated as such. Do I not
even have the right to exist? Who on this
earth has the power to deny my existence?
God is my only and final judge. I answer
only to Him.
On that day in Washington, while
waiting to march, I turned on my radio
to try to listen to the rally. It was not
broadcast. Why would a city ignore
200,000 people? Was it fear?
I heard no mention of the rally, but I
heard something else that stirred me very
much. A public station was broadcasting
some of Martin l.uther King's speeches
that he gave before and at the 1963 march
on Washington for civil rights. King said
that the march was for social change and
the "advancement of justice, freedom and
human dignity." He said that America had
defaulted on its promissory note to
guarantee all men the inalienable right to
life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
fH TUBE .
The bottom line: We seek not
favoritism in this matter of
telephonic registration, but
fairness. No one can truthfully
assert that the welfare of grad
uate students will be aug
mented by half as much as that
of undergrads in implementing
To the editor:
One of the privileges of
writing an honors thesis is
having access to a library carrel.
Having one's materials close at
hand greatly facilitates the
research process, and it is
convenient to store safely notes,
books, computer disks, etc., in
the locker on the carrel.
Unfortunately, I have found
that I am unable to enjoy this
privilege, since all the honors
carrels are located on the
smoking lounge side of the
library. Every time I approach
my carrel, a cloud of cigarette
smoke awaits me.
I am not a chemist and thus
am unable to prove conclu
sively that smoke is damaging
to printed materials. My guess
is that it is, based merely on
the evidence that all the books
in my carrel reek worse than
a month-old ashtray. Will it
take a fire to convince the
library that smoking threatens
its valuable collection? Will it
take a hundred more cases of
lung cancer and emphysema in
non-smokers before public
institutions stop exposing the
vast majority of the public to
Ginger had clearly sold her soul to the
devil to become a master of the game, and
bounced five straight quarters into the cup.
She instituted rule one: No Sliding, of
quarters, cups, anything. Michelle was less
demonic and missed her first attempt.
Quarters was a semi-professional sport at
my high school in Los Angeles, and so
I scored five straight for rule two: The Cup
Must Not Touch The Lips.
I hit one more time and pointed to John.
He carefully tilted his cup and nearly
spilled beer down the front of his shirt.
At this time he and Keith realized that they
had been hustled and were in for a long
night of it.
Or so it seemed. Now, we were having
a great time, telling stories, laughing,
drinking, just five people hanging out and
having some fun. Then, politics reared its
scaly head. And worse.
Keith and John revealed they were living
in Washington and working on Jack
Kemp's campaign. Ginger, Michelle and
I shivered with liberal revulsion. Then,
Keith pulled a recent copy of The Phoenix
from his jacket. "Thisll explain who I am,"
he said, pointing at a letter to the editor.
The letter was from none other than
Keith Poston, ex-president of Students For
America, the same Keith Poston whom I
had battled on the back page of The Daily
Tar Heel most of last semester for his anti
CGLA efforts, Berlin Wall building and
Ironically, 24 years later, the fight is still
raging on. These rights are inalienable, he
said. The only thing lesbians, gays and all
other minorities ask for is that their rights
not be taken away.
I remember a Langston Hughes poem
I love dearly. It is entitled "Let America
Be America Again." Hughes speaks for all
"Let it be the dream it used to be . . .
It never was America to me . . .
There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed
apart, , k
I am the redman driven from the land.
I am the refugee clutching to the hope
I seek ...
I am the Negro, "problem" to you
all . . .
O, let America be America again
The land that never has been yet
And yet must be
The land where every man is free . . .
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath
America will be!"
America is still not America. She has
not fulfilled our dream. I will fight until
my death against bigotry, discrimination
and ignorance until America is America
again. We are fighting for our lives and
all we ask is to be treated the same as
Dannielle Landry is a junior physics
major from Chapel Hill.
this health threat?
I, too, lament the fact that
the most scenic spots in the
library are granted to the small
minority of smokers. But more
than that, I resent having to
place my health on the line to
take full advantage of the
library's facilities. If we must
have smoking lounges in the
library, then let's at least put
doors on the lounges to prevent
any of that precious smoke
from escaping this could
even save the smokers money,
since they'll get more tar,
nicotine and carbon monoxide
Better yet, let's ban smoking
in Davis altogether.
general extremist right-wing attitudes.
"You're Keith Poston," I exclaimed. He
grinned and nodded.
I was speechless with surprise. Ginger
was not, and started arguing politics and
economics with him. John and Michelle,
not being UNC students, were understand
ably confused by our sudden hostility. "Do
you know who I am?" I asked Keith. He
shook his head. I told him my last name.
His eyebrows went up. "The left-wing
editorial writer? The one who cut down
Kemp last semester?" It was my turn to
grin and nod.
The arguing got more and more intense.
On the surface it was relatively friendly,
but I could not stifle my distaste for some
of Keith's beliefs. Nor could Ginger he
handed her his business card, which had
a Bible and an American flag on it, and
she dunked it into her beer.
The fun was over. We said our barbed
goodbyes and left.
There's something to be said for super
ficiality. As long as our identities were
buried safely in the quarters game, we
could have a good time together. Once we
discovered that we were old enemies on
the ideological battlefield, the good time
faded away. Had I known the tall guy with
glasses was Keith Poston, I would have
been more likely to toss beer on him than
toss it back with him.
Superficiality greased the wheels, for a
little while. But in the end, we shouldn't
have tried mixing beer and ideology. ,
Brian McCuskey is a junior English
major from Los Angeles.