THE LANCE
Official Publication of the Student ^ j ^
•* f Audreu's Presbyterian College
VOLUME 13, NUMBER 12 ST. ANDREWS presrvtprtam nr..,
■' ^AUI^INBURG, N C THURSDAY, MARCH 7,1974
(Photo Courtesyjof The Laurlnburg Exchange)
Whatever happened to the hula-hoop?
Empty Words -
The Art Of Chanse
nfSlwrsWTWW^ A m T-ww-.'w M
BY STEVIE DANIELS
The dialogue of John Cage
and Merce Cunningham Tues
day night at Scotland Coimty
High School was exactly as
It was described on the pro
gram. The words of John Cage
were empty--“A non-syntac
tical mix of phrases, words,
syllables, and letters obtain
ed by subjecting the Journal
of Henry David Thoreau to a
series of I Ching chance op-
eratlons,” and Cunningham
danced.
As the performance de
veloped one could sense dif
ferent tides of tension and
calm. There were slides from
Henry David Thoreau’s Jour
nal, Cage’s voice and Cun
ningham’s dancing all at once.
The mind could not rest on
any (me of these things long
enough to discern a pattern
or an idea. The senses were
bombarded.
There were definite rhy
thms in Cage’s voice and Cun
ningham’s movement but these
were irregular and only at
certain times interconnected.
The performance did have a
strange capacity to bring into
2nd absorb all movement or
sound In the room. Would be
annoyances became a part of
the whole process and in one
Recruiters Seek Students
Recruiters from various
schools and businesses will be
on campus during March and
April to interview Seniors for
job placement after
graduation. Up to this time,
owever, students have shown
■ttle interest in the in
terviews, with the result that
'''0 of the four recruiters
scheduled for March have
cancelled. Apathy plus
gasoline shortages have made
comuig to St. Andrews no
^er worth their while.
«niors may still sign up
with the Placement Office for
interviews, with job
recruiters. In fact, if they do
not, other firms from distant
cities may cancel ap
pointments. Mrs. Ramona
Wright, Director of the Career
Planning and Placement Cen
ter, say that students have
shown less interest in job
recruitment this year than
ever before. Companies and
schools choose the colleges
they come to on the basis of in
terest shown previously, and
St. Andrews has been steadily
losing in the number of firms
and school-systems willing to
come here.
(Continued to Page 3)
From Reality To Myth
As we celebrate the 40th an
niversary of Black Mountain
College we realize it is “less
an institution than a myth.”
Leslie Fiedler opened his lec
ture Saturday night with this
perceptive and accurate point.
The actual influence of Black
Mountain did not begin until
1956 with its disintegration at
which time it was “absorbed
into the bloodstream of
America.” A poem by Paul
Goodman, “visit to Black
Mountain College, June 1952”
was used by Fiedler to in
troduce the central concern of
his presentation, that is the
living traditioin of Black
Mountain. Tradition is an im
portant part of the living
relationship between student
and teacher which is both a
resentful and a baffling love,
which involves faflures and
successes, living and dying
and “the hope of doing better
nejrttime.”
The tradition of Black
Mountain is the tradition of
dissent and of permanent
revolution (cultural). It is im
portant to recognize that
Fiedler spoke only of the
cultural side of revolution and
did not speak of the economic
aspects of revolution which
are necessary if society is to
actually change. He was very
absolute about politics, also,
saying that pdlticians are
always corrupt regardless of
the context. At any rate, this
cultural traditionless tradition
continues to live, as a result of
the mingling San Francisco
movement and the dissipating
Black Mountain crowd in the
late50’s.
The people whom Fiedler
called the pioneers of the
cultural revolution at Black
Mountain wrote about what
ought, should, and had to
change. Black Mountain
taught “downward social
mobility” and creative alter
native modes of life. Now
these pioneers write about
those things that do not
change-the “eternal return”
of death, birth and children.
Nevertheless the values which
Black Mountain tried to attain
to are given lip service by
most people today. “They are
hypocritical about these new
values rather than the old.”
There are those who suc
ceeded and are known (Fuller,
Creeley) and there are those
who succeeded and are
unknown (Dan Rice). At this
point, Fiedler strongly em
phasized how little success
has to do with popularity.
Fiedler warned through a
quote from Goethe, “Be
careful what you desire in
your youth, because you will
get it in your middle age.”
Although we may not be able
to take the risks of the 30’s,
40’s and 50’s we can par
ticipate in ritual, ceremonial
and formal celebrations, “and
perhaps that is what we’ll
have to do.”
sense nothing was excluded.
Just as at certain times there
was an integration of Cage’s
voice and Cunningham’s
movement so the baby’s
cries, the people’s departures
and the hum of the microphone
became a part of the music.
On the other hand the whole
was a reflection of fragmen
tation--the revelation of in
dividual experience in the A-
merican environment. An ar
tist cannot stand above
society. If art is more than
just that the Dialogue borders
on the brink of non-art. There
was no substance, nor con
tinuum of communication with
the audience (except for the
intermingling of all sound and
sensation in the room). Cage
has said that it is detrimental
to explain his work so he
rarely does.
The piano piece at the end
was a calm resolution to the
performance and yet Cage fix
ed the piano for the proper
sound. In one sense that ges
ture seems innovative and ex
pansive and yet in another
sense seems retrogressive
and defacing to the instru
ment called the piano. How
ever, the close of the pre-
sent^on drew a warm res
ponse from the audience.
Creeley: Intense Poetry
Robert Creeley read last
Friday to a near capacity
audience in Avinger
Auditorium. Creeley, wearing
a toboggan and a frayed
sweater, emmanated a rustic
air as he entered the
auditorium, smoking a
cigarette and shaking hands
with visiting professors -
most notably Norman Mc-
Qeod from Pembroke, who is
a poet, novelist and editor.
Before beginning the reading,
Creeley, shunning the for
mality of the lecture, drew for
th a table and chair, sat down,
removed his toboggan, and
began fumbling with the
microphone. Unable to secure
it properly about his neck,
S.A.’s favorite poet, Ron
Bayes, ambled out, fastened
the mike and, leaning over
Creeley’s shoulder, an
nounced, “Ladies and gen
tleman —Robert Creeley!"”
To the following intense ap
plause, Creeley smiled shyly,
gazing at the large mass
through the smoke with his
solitary eye. Then: silence
again; the poet shuffled
through his notebook - and,
finally, spoke; in a slow clear
voice, resonant and soothing,
he acknowledged McCleod:
the older poet, gray and
fragile. Creeley pronounced
him a teacher, of himself, of
other poets of the generation -
and, and to affirm it, read a
poem that, Creeley said, tried
to capture the ththem and
lines of one of McCleod’s early
poems.
Then they began to carry
on a diologue — softly and
intensely, as if they were
alone, as if only themselves
and the poetry were the only
thing that mattered. It was
difficult for this reviewer to
understand the words but the
communication was evident;
you envied it, wanted to be a
part of it. Finally, Creeley
BY TIM TOURTELLOTTE
Robert Cr^ley in SA cafeteria.
drew himself back into focus
and began the reading - first,
his early poems; the poems
about love gone bad, love
going bad, and, too, about love
itself, written in his unique
style; short, quick,, lyric
epigrams in riiyme. These
were poems he wrote, chiefly,
while at Black Mountain -
while his marriage with Bob
by was breaking apart and,
with it, for a time, the foun
dation of his world. Then, as if
to dispell the delicate mood of
melancoly these poems
produced, he shifted into a
prose-poetry piece.
It seemed to this writer that
this part of Creeley’s reading
was somewhat obtuse and too
intently subjective. It portray
ed one of his experiences in
Mexico with his friends, ana
though at times filled with
distinct imagery and vivid
description, it lacked the
power and beauty his poetic
miniatures can evoke. After
—i-Si^oSe-poetry, he began
reading much more recent
poems - poems about his
children and family in
Bolinas. They were strong,
mature inexorable poems,
missing the strong rhyme pat-
tersn of his early work, yet
replacing them with the
masterful use alliteration and
word rhythms The last poem
he read was especially me
morable; one which he
seemed to read on impulse - it
was about the death of his
mother, the pain and shock,
and also the guilt, for she died
the day after his last visit with
her. His voice became
strained as he read the poem;
at times, it almost broke - and
one was filled with empathy
and admiration for the poet.
As he neared the end of the
poem it was difficult to un
derstand the words, but, then,
(Continued to Page Z