January 19, 1970
The N. C. Essay
■mE ARTFUL DODGER
NCSA'S FIRST LITERARY MAGAZINE
WILL GO ON SALE NE'XT MONDAY AT
THE CAFETERIA DURING LUNCH HOUR.
(Cont. from page 3)
Will Wait, and "What Is It Like To
Be Free?" are all better-than-'
average. But we learn more of the
artist's potential rather than his
true ability. And we've known that
Eric Andersen has potential for some
The rest of the songs are crap.
"Don't Leave Me Here For Dead" is
filler. "Sign of A Desperate Man"
stumbles over its own topicality.
"1 Was The Rebel (She Was The Causes"
could have been the theme for a 50>s
teen flick. "Secriets" is muzak.
Disappointing, especially when two
songs are of such high caliber.
Eric Andersen turns out to be
one more LP we can afford to be
indifferent about. One or two songs
don't make a great artist and
Andersen has never made a solid
album. Folk needs a new voice, one
as real and vital as Dylan’s, but
one distinctivly different froi^ his.
Perhaps it- is time to turn to a new
breed, such as James Taylor, whose
approach and material ar both fresh
and artistically con«cious. The
time has worn thin waiting for Eric
Andersen and after five years, the
results have not been amply rewarding.
"Sometimes I almost wonder what
it would be like."
"Yes, Charles, I know just how
Edwin Porter and Charles Matthews
were out for their customary mid-
night stroll. The air was crisp with
a slight taste of spring in it.
Crocuses were just beginning to peer
out from under brown leaves hard-
packed by the winter’s snow. It had
been a lovely day - rich, blue sky,
white clouds scudding like froth
in the breeze - yes, altogether, a
"Your wife is such a charming
woman," Edwin remarked after a short
"Yes, that she is, Ed. I remem
ber the day I met her. I was about
Tixteen and she came into church and
sat scross from me with her mother.
Ah, Helen, to think we spend so
much time together!"
"Your young Mary is the spittin’
image of her, Charles."
Charles ran his hand through his
soft gray hair, a hand that played
the piano well - that taught Mary
how to play. "Yes, my dear, dear
Mary," he mused. "She is so pretty
now, going out with the young boys.
She's dear to my heart, even as her
mother... still is."
Charles continued, "Mr. Magruder
always said what a beautiful family
I had. I like him, too. I really
did. He ran that office like a
battleship. Worked for him for fif
teen years, I did, Ed. Fifteen
years, that's a long time and he was
always good to me. Gave me loans
when the money was low, always
around. And Mary just loved him like
we all did. He'd tell her stories
and she'd climb upon his knee and
call him Uncle Joe and make him
laugh. Yes, we all loved him,
everybody did and still does."
"There's your house, Charle
and isn't that Helen?"
"Yes, she's laughing. It's
good that she can be happy."
"And Mary, she's probably a
"No, no, Ed =■ she's out wit
beau or other."
"Helen, my love. I've
always loved you. You're as pre
as ever you were." They walked
on by the house. The stars floa
in their silent night sky. Char
was silent for a while himself,
"Charles, you're as good as
gold." Edwin was trying to help
"I love my wifei, Ed. I'll
always love her, no matter what.
I should have been more to her.
should have been home more inste
of always at the office. Joe Ma
gruder was my boss and my friend
hadn't gotten to me first."
(Cont. from page 3)
themselves to each other. All t
can do is laugh at how dumb that
sounds - John and Mary - and fal
into bed again, ending the day a
unsurprisingly as they started i
The mood of quiet understanding
misunderstanding set up by John
Mortimer’s scrtenplay has been
worked through sensitively by Ho
and Miss Farrow. Yates' film is
awkward, lovely, and sometimes
boring - nearly like life.