THK COLI.KGIATK
TIM CORBETT
Fditor
Mike Hickman.
\ssL Editor
Business Manager
Briggs Petv»a> and Mar> Kay McKown Editorial Editors
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fiu> H>att Sports Editors
Staff Writers; Jackie Parker. Nina Jones, Darby .McIntyre,
\nn Pinson. Kim Taylor. Mike Scott, Ray Griffin, Mary
Dennis and Roger Bynum
Typists; Nancy Edingen. Dennis Hilliams. Bob Pridgen and
Mary McDowell
Photographic Staff; Rob Davis, Bill .\nderson and Ron Snipes
Published weekly by students attending .Atlantic Christian
College. \Mlson, N.C. 27893. The views expressed herein are
not necessarily those ol the facuttv or administration of .ACC.
One Fabled Professor
Some years ago a child was born in a foreign country,
destined to awaken at least part of the world. Lately this
country has been the source of much civil violence that
many Americans take personally.
The child was conceived out of wedlock. However,
the mother was engaged to a young man at the time. The
gentleman had considered breaking off the engagement
because he knew the child was not his own. But being the
good man that he was, the groom-to-be accepted
responsibility for the child’s life.
The child was born during a time when the couple
was traveling to a distant town. Hurriedly, the mother
and father took a room in a cheap motel on the outskirts
of town.
As years flew by, the young boy grew fast. He loved
his friends and their games, but he spent most of his
time talking with the high government officials in his
town. Many times he astounded them by asking highly
sophisticated questions and quoting from the code of
laws.
As does every little boy, the child grew up and left
home to seek his fame. He took to teaching as a
profession. Many places he taught, large crowds
gathered. Often he converted large numbers of people to
his way of thinking. Once he even fed the people because
he knew that people can’t learn on an empty stomach.
When his school of thought grew very large, the man
recruited twelve others to instruct his pupils. They went
to all parts of the world to help other people. And news of
this man made many people fear for their political of
fices.
Finally, the man was arrested for telling things
harmful to the state, many thought he was trying to
destroy government all together. And so they executed
him in a most undignified way. But even after his death,
the man kept on teaching. Even today this man has
great influence over the lives of men.
Briggs Petway
Machines
That Wind
Face Western winds
For the sun,
A mother's hand,
To warm supporting trees
Holding all
To frames and walls
WTiere children cry and
die
Before they sing of life.
Work in rolled-up sleeves
To tunes breaking fallow
ground
Where .Mordecai
Saves again
From planned destruc
tion.
Feel warmth, then grow
Toward the Western sea
Where revolves the
carousel
That turns pages
To yet other newness
For Western winds to
blow.
Curse not the yellow snow
That man has left ....
Modred only seems
When brou^t to fore
By the passing of a
greater man
Where drifts a whiter
snow ...
Softened drops of red
That blacken with the sun
Now behind the wind.
Shards tear at feet
Of memories
So that light may ease
guilts
To scars on ancient trees.
Face Western winds
To be warm again.
J. Ross Albert
I Want to Kno
ComntGTltdry Marvin Lamm
Several years ago at a Sym
posium on New Music, Alvin
Etler, composer-in-residence at
Smith College, began a speech
by describing what he called “a
recurring and obsessive fan
tasy.” In this fantasy, he saw
himself being brought back from
the dead after a period 200 years
and finding that his music was
t)€ing performed, taught and
used as compositional models in
much the same way as the music
of Beethoven is employed by the
“20th century intelligentsia”.
Etler continued that aside from
the ego gratification that he (or
any writer) might feel, his initial
reaction would be “Why has
nothing been written worth
listening to in the past 200 years?
Has anvbodv been doing any
thing?" I won’t bore you with the
details of his speech; the im
plication is obvious. Through
this simple fantasy, a case was
stated for the continual per
formance of 20th Century music.
The argument that followed
the statement is unfortunately
one that will not “hold water”
and more to thepoint, one that is
used with disgusting frequency.
His argument, simply stated, is
that there is but one true music
and it is the 20th Century ONE;
if the listener doesn’t com
prehend this oneness, it is due to
an idiocy brought about by “a
lack of musical education and-or
sophisticiation.” This is not the
case. Obviously, there is much
beautiful music to be heard
beyond the 20th Century; more
to the point, there are many
sensitive, intelligent
professional musicians that
have complete understandings
of the musical doctrines of the
20th Century that just “don’t dig
it.” So, what is the problem? It is
my contention that the problem
is less musical than social.
The public-at-large has a
societal compulsion, to organize
and categorize objects into
groups, fields, etc. This
necessary thought process has,
however, over-extended itself in
the field of music. Composers,
theorists and performers (you
see, we even label ourselves)
have “pigeon-holed” music with
an over-abundance of labels. We
have pop music, rock music,
acid rock music, legitimate
music, conservative music,
electronic music, ad infinitum!
Each of these labels carries with
it certain associative reactions
such as, “Oh yes, Anton Webern
— that 12 tone composer!” In
any ensuing argument, we
defend the associative reaction
to 12 note writing, the label and
not 12 note writing, the music.
This is absurd; in believing and
teaching this methodology, the
modern musician has managed
to “label away” a great body of
beautiful music and assign it to
oblivion.
In the past few years, I have
radicalized my opinion on what I
care to teach, compose and
perform. If music holds my
interest for a long period of time,
it is probably good music; if it
does not, it is probably bad
music. I choose to deal with good
music and to understand why it
holds my attention. I don’t give a
damn about labels; I simply
accept any kind of music on its
own terms, thereby giving it a
chance to grow in my thought
processes. I would suggest that
you do the same. “Long Life”.
What are you? Where are you?
Who are you, Mr. President?
I wish I could help you.
But things seem beyond help.
Who is to blame?
Is it you? Is it America?
They say it is you—you failed your job.
You knew what would happen — so no pity felt.
But you accepted a challenge.
Although it seems you have failed.
Only you know what you’ve done.
And not even you know what you will do.
I wish I could help you.
You seem to need friends.
I wish you could help me.
But do you know your friends?
It may be just — you may be wrong.
But you are only a man.
You seem to be a martyr.
Take a look at America today.
“May he who is without sin cast the first stone”.
What will become of us?
What will become of you?
Destroy and start over?
Are we not unstable enough, already?
I don’t know, Mr. President.
And I need to know.
I cannot judge on unknown facts.
What are you?
A dirty politician, a rebel, or just a tired confused olo
man?
Do not give up hope-
But can you put trust in your fellow man?
Things are bad.
Can they get worse?
I wish I could help you, Mr. President.
I wish I could help you, America.
Mary Kay McKowe
Class pictures will be returned from 8 - 5 Monday through
riday, November 5-9, in the Pine Knot office, in the basement
0 Hard> Alumni Hall. Package deals are available to students
or purchase. Also, for those who did not get their pictures
to en, Thursday, Nov. 8 will be make-up day from 8-10 and 12‘5
in Hardy Alumni Hall. This is not for those students who are not
p eased with their pictures. Sitting fees have been paid.
Letter To Editor
Dear Editor;
A cartoon appearing in the
October 18 edition of the
Collegiate had what we con
sidered to be very poor over
tones for the college community.
The cartoon pertaining to the
fraternity slave sale made
reference to the Klu Klux Klan
boostering the sale of “cheap
labor.” To top it all off there was
a caption which read “those frat
boys really know where it’s at.”
The underlying implication was
that the only reason they “know
where it’s at” is because they
engaged in selling slaves in a
once slave owning territory.
No matter how humorous tbf
cartoon was suppose to havf
been, it only seemed to sym
bolize boldly the old cliche “tiif
South shall rise again.
However, the black populace of
A.C.C. failed to see any hunwf
whatsoever in this bit
disparagement. Rather thsc
“cheap Iat)or” the cartoon better
reflected the cheap taste of tJif
cartoonist.
We only hope that Mary Ka.v
will put forth more thought fof
better symbolism in her future
cartoons.
Sincerely yours,
The Afro-American
Awareness Society of