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THURSDAY, JANUARY 13, 1955 PAGE TWO THE DAILY TAR HEEL The Fault Student-faculty , relationships were never worse. If you don't believe it, ask the next student you meet his troubles; he'll lead off with "that blankety-blank pedant (or worse) in Bingham (or 'Murphy or Venable) who thinks he's a teacher." This strained state of affairs might be expected, since there remain only ten days until exams. But the cleavage goes deeper. We listened, only yesterday, to a student de- ' liver himself of the opinion that the Univer sity may as well close its doors for a year or two, stock up on new professors, and then try again. "And the administration," he said, "is worse. It is dealing in administration for administration's sake. Students are forgot ten." , Well, it is true Ave have our pedants (or worse) and it is true that South Building has its lunkheads. However, (and we will proba bly get thrown out of the League-For Protec-tion-of-Students-Against-All-Comers for say ing it) most of the University's shortcomings are not thrust upon the students but are, in stead, nourished by them. And sometimes, created by them. Item: Entire class is invited by genial professor to eat supper at his house. All ac cent invitation eagerly. One-sixth of class ap pears. Item: Two Negro members of the stu dent body live in segregated rooms in Steele Doimitory. Student body remains indifferent. Item: While students complain of "no thing to do", art exhibits go, unattended, stimulating speakers talk to near .empty halls, Library books gather dust, .concert series tickets remain unsold. Item: George the dog, a symbol of the campus, jiears the end of his rope in the Humane Sdciety's pens, but is yet to have an energetic student champion to help save his life. , , All this is not to say. that there aren't encouraging signs here and there. Cobb Dor mitory's recent invitation to President Gray, and his subsequent well-received speech there, is as hopeful, as anything this year for a re-birth of easy student-faculfy-administra-tion cordiality. But if a teacher is not stimulating in class, it's likely that the class members are not stimulating, themselves, and everybody goes to sleep. The answer to this one is with the students; they should gang up and agree on a batch of loaded questions. Jf a teacher is cold, he's probably tired of wasting warmth on an unresponsive class. We've seen more than one enthusiastic tea cher beaten down by a room full of crossword-workers. The point of our wandering little homily is this: The one group that can accomplish reforms, that can put lite in the University's weary carcass, that can revivify the valuable old student-faculty friendships and make life richer on the campus is the students. Shakespeare said it in a- sentence: The fault ... is in ourselves. Bucks For The Band The student Legislature will act tonight on a bill to appropriate 11,000 to the Band for new instruments and uniforms. The Daily Tar Heel agrees, that the Band needs the money, but feels the Legislature is not the place to get it. It can't come from the University, which is almost broke; if it comes from the Legis lature, the student body will be broke. The clear way out of the dilemma for the Band is the Playmakers' Avay sponsor some top-notch student entertainment at a profit The Plavmakers should make a mint from "Three For Tonight" and "The Caine Mu tiny Court Martial." There's still lime for the Band to go and do likewise. Cfje atlp ar Heel The official student publication of the Publi cations Board of the University of North Carolina, ,-... where it is published r - ' , daily except Monday. ' . "' - examination and vaca- - J tion periods and sum mer terms. Entered as second class matter at the post office in Chapel Hill, N. C, un der the Act of March 8, 1879. Subscription rates: mailed, $4 per fear, $2.50 a semester; delivered, $6 a year, $3.50 a semester. Silo of ihr ynivrrjity . ' North Carolina wbith fitSt iti Tanuary 5 2 t , :j Carolina Front, Sditor CHARLES KURALT Managing Editor FRED POWLEDGE Associate Editors LOUIS KRAAR, ED YODER Business Manager TOM SHORES Sports Editor FRED BABSON News Editor . City Editor Advertising Manager Circulation Manager Jackie Goodman Jerry Reece Dick Sirkin Jim Kiley Society Editor Feature Editor 'Burnt Bridges' & 'Color Notes' Are Different Louis Kraar Subscription Manager Jack Godley Photographers Cornell Wright, R. B. Henley Assistant Sports Editor . Bernie Weiss Assistant Business Manager Bill Bob Peel Editorial Assistant . Ruth Dalton Eleanor Saunders Babbie Dilorio . Dan Wallace The Subtle & Magnetic Ways Of The Culture Arts REMEMBERING Woman's Col lege Chancellor E. K. Graham's statement that uninhibited self expression belongs in art galler ies, I padded a ;ross the mud ly campus yes erday to view lie current :rop of expres sions in Person Hall. Join Rem bert, an artist who formerly taught here at Carolina, has on display a group of drawings that to me seem unusual. They seem to illustrate what's called unin hibited self-expressions too. Hembert has a series, of .seven paintings called "Burnt Bridges," which are scenes from the past as seen by the artist. I'm no art critic, but Rembert's drawings of "Adam and Eve," "Atlasburden," and "Susan and the Blindmen" are different. Incidentally, many of the draw ings show the human figure un drapped, both male and female. I trust Chancellor Graham, who censured the WC literary maga zine for a male nude, won't be offended by the Rembert works since they're in an art gallery. WHILE IN an art-viewing mood, I stopped in on the More head building's exhibit by Chapel Hill artist Floyd Hunter. "Color Notes" is a series of pictures on the race problen that says more than the most ai vid National Association for the Advancement of Colored People member could say. Hunter's exhibit is "intended as a current set of notions on passing scenes of color in a re gion long noted for intense re lations of color," according to a poster. Examples of Hunter's editorial in pictures are paintings like "Communication 1954." This one shows a Negro trumpeter playing for a white man. "The message is simple and clear to the listen er," says the caption. ALL THE WORLD is a stage department: Joel Fleishman, whose main love has been polit ics since his freshman year, has turned his head and interests to the field of drama. Fieishmaai's friends are sur prised. His enemies, who have learned to expect anything from the versatile student leader, don't believe it. REPUBLICANS around Capi tol Hill these days are wishing each other a "moderately pro gressive" New Year. Kermit Hunter (This is a condensation of a speech to the Piedmont Arts Conference at Winston-Salem. For an analysis of some of Mr. Hunter's own work, see the column by Ed Yoder on this page. Editor.) - Why should a community be interested in the cultural arts? . We can all think of a hundred good rea sons, but altogether we can group these rea sons perhaps under three major headings. Let us look first at the simple matter of plea sure and entertainment. What do we do these days in America when we are not working? Mainly, we sit. Mo vies, radio, television, therter, sports events we are a nation of watchers and lookers. Fred Allen suggested that television repre sents the triumph of equipment over people, that the next generation will have eyes like cantalopes and no brains at all. But we need not take out our spite on television; we must take it out on ourselves Victory Village Editor -. Night Editor for this Issue Fred Babson BEST JOKE in the new Tar nation, which comes out today: "The difference betwen a frat man and a dorm man is fliat while a frat man and his date :are looking for an arboretum, bench, the dorm man builds one." TWO COEDS were talking at Harry's Grill about the popular view that girls come to college to find husbands. "I always have told you that I wasn't going to attend college to look for a husband," one said. "Yeh, but trverybodf used to tell you that before they came," her friend replied. PRIVILEGE I doubt four men still enjoy: According to the last issue of the Carolina Quarterly, Oxford and Cambridge eventually attain ed a position "of such impor tance that two representatives from each were granted aplace in Parliament, a privilege these four men still enjoy today." Only catch to that statement is that the two universities have enjoyed the privilege of sending representatives to Parliament for over a century. 1 doubt if evefj Oxford ,or Cambridge men Itve that long. ' 'Gee This Looks Interesting' SfilSl STOCK I MARKET i Flashing Eyes, Clanking Radiators Ad Astra Per Aspera r-- Jim Wallace (Mr. Wallace, a member of the Student Entertainment Committee, upon being re quested to submit a review of the Rise Ste vens 'concert night before last, complied with the following gray impress-ion. Editor.) It was a cold night, last Tuesday, and there was a basketball game, but the faithful ga thered at the Rise Stevens show in Memorial Hall. By 7:40 the house was almost full, and there was a crowd of 200 faculty members and townspeople standing outside, waiting for the magic moment when a buck would get them inside to warmth, and to Rise. They got in, got warm, and promptly at eight o'clock, exactly on time, they got Rise. She swept onto the stage, her eyes flashing, her red petti coat swinging, and behind the pancake, one could glimpse her face, set in a tentative smile, then a pout; and, af ter a moment, the look of a 'stricken Cam ille came over her. 4 5 i Brightening J quicklfc', and with a wave of her hand, STEVENS "... sad she included James Shomate, the accompan ist, who stepped forward into the picture. They bowed. He sat, fingers poised, looking at her in- lently from the corner of his eye. She made a little moue at the audience, caressed her bunch of roses lovingly, gave the barest es sence of a nod to the accompanist whose hands reacted like released springs and be gan to sing some HandeL After Handel, there was Mozart, and Greig. Then the concert lapsed into some passable German, which eventually ended with Nichts, by Richard Strauss. Off in the distance could be heard the faint, metallic croak of a radiator frog, like a summer's night in Pittsburg, out near the blast furnaces. Then some Saint-Saens and In termission, and the audience drifted to the smoking rooms. The smoke drifted back into the hall, the audience followed, and it all be gan again. Mr. Shomate, modest and thirty, caressed the Steinway, caught in the blinding lights, along with the beautiful floral arrange ment and the candelabrum. Miss Stevens returned, sweeping out on a piece of white muslin left over from the Sound and Fury show. There was considerable applause, but the seats were hard, and many were sitting on their hands. ' There followed five musical fragments, and, at long last, the role arrived which the artist had been playing all evening, the role of the tragic and beauti ful Carmen. But now the small radiator from Little Steel, was joined by a large, more clanky, radiator from Big Steel, and the artist, and the audience," began to feel the effects of competition. Occasionally a clear, sustained, fairly high, note could be heard without bene fit of industrial syncopation. Miss Stevens now showed more haste than ever before, to get the thing over and done with as soon as possible. The audience, much of it, showed signs of being cooperative in this enterprise. The concert ended in a burst of arched eye brows, taut lower lips, perfectly formed circles and beautifully executed ellipses, and bril liant teeth. The stunningly-dyed blond hair, magniffi cently coiffed, flung itself high and then low in the smoky upper atmosphere of the stage, making it reminiscent of Brunhild's immola tion or Carmen's cigarette factory just-caught-afire, and to add to this Vulcanic design, the radiators, encouraged by their previous oper atic successes, struck up an off-beat Anvil, Chorus, to send the concert into a fiery en core. A songlet called "Hey, Edwin," ended too abruptly, and the applause signalled for more. Then a spell-binding "Were You There When They Crucified My Lord" left the au dience in rapt attention, held them in a mood of silent appreciation, listening for pins to drop, or radiators to clank. And, finally. Miss Stevens rendition of ''Because" partially redeemed her for her ear lier inattentiveness to the business at hand. By now, it appeared that she no longer felt she was doing the audienca such a big favor by making her highly lucrative appearance here. r And there were those recurring traces of sadness in her face, more so near the end of the evening. Looking toward the floor, her hands clasped, she would seem in deep thought, her mind far away, and then, as if she were awakening from a brief dream, she would look up, her eyes smiling, and gazing straight into the lights, she would give that little nod again, and the accomplished Mr. Shomate would once more provide back ground. The attitude of sadness lingered. But after the sadness with that flash of fire from the coquettish, the snapping eyes, and with a pursing of the lips, the younger form woui return for an instant, and a beautifully-produced note would round itself, gather strength, and fill the crowded house. And then, it was over. The audience drift ed .away, the autograph people went back stage; and then everyone had gone home, out into the cold night. And inside the big hall, the hard seats sat silently, listening to the rhythms of the radia for frogs which would not sleep. for becoming a race of lazy lookers who de mand entertainment at an ever-inci?3a.sing tempo. No one, can deny that a generation or two more of this sit-and-look kind pf enter tainment will have a profound effect on the creative energies of our people. Gradually we reach the point where we accept whatever and all that "they" Twhoever they may be) put before us. We lose taste, discrimination, and inspiration and we" come to think in terms of what someone else suggests. Then why (fon't we stop this eternal side lines existence and get out on the playm? field? Simply because we have not taken the time or the effort to set up the means for it. One very plausible solution lies in the local arts council. And I do not mean the building that sits somewhere on a local street; I mean the ideals behind it, the knowledge that what ever we want to do is potentially available there, if we will make it so. You want to write? Then insist that the arts council stage seminars and conferences in creative writing and bring in guest experts to discuss it witn you. You want, to paint? Then get some brushes and paints and start painting, then see to it. that the arts council has someone to criticize and help you. You like the idea of making trinkets in glazed pottery or enameled cop per? Then get the arts council to do some thing about it. All this leads, of course, to the creating of opportunities for active participation, the . opening of new fields of interest, with the fin al result that we have six hobbies instead of one or two hobbies in which we are taking an active part. Suddenly we find ourselves busy, but in a different way: not the busy ness of tension and strain, but the busy-nes? of entertaining pursuits, hobbies thatfascinate and occupy the mind and soul," that leave as feeling rested and uplifted. Pleasure? We don't know what it is until we start dabbling in painting, in music, in writing, in sculpture, in pottery work, in handicrafts of all kinds. So much for the factor of sheer pleasure in the cultural arts. Let us turn briefly to another matter the idea of a life purpose. I do not mean the choosing of a career whe ther we shall be a doctor or a lawyer, a nurse, or a laboratory technician. I mean a life pur pose, and end toward which we will go as a means of finding peace of mind and spirit. Perhaps the most satisfying goal we can strive for is truth or, if you prefer a more definite term, oneness with man and the uni verse, a sense of fulfillment, a feeling of hav ing accomplished something noble and lasting in life. If this is the end, then everything else we do is actually, part of the means toward that end. Making a living, buying things, finding entertainment, worshiping God, clfing our daily round of activities all these are means. The end is truth. Then what is happiness? Perhaps it lies simply in the realization that we are in pro gress toward some ideal, that we are busy at the matter of life and not sitting as it pass es by. Happiness is surely a process. We find deep pleasure in being alive and active, and this is perhaps what happiness means, because it is a fleeting thing that comes in scattered golden moments. The final end must forever be some ideal toward which we always are going, but which we never quite attain in mortal existence. If any of this is valid, then, it behooves us-to follow those pursuits which tend to ward ultimate truth, which give us a felin of fulfillment, that sense of onenes with God and man. And for this pur- pose, I heart- ily recom- mend the cu!- tural arts. Al- though, art I pursuits are f i n d i v i d- I ual things one man or i woman at work at a can-1 vas, or work-1 ing with clay -o r practicing j at the piano till t.hevf are coopera- HUN I ER tive things, be- . . .' stability, calm, reason, cause they decency. draw us toward other men and women who seek these same rewards, and they draw us into communion with the greatest and best minds the human race has produced. Let us choose one other factor in addition to pleasure and a life purpose the matter of moral regeneration. There is no village so small, no city so large, that we are not faced thi morning with what appears to be a head long plunge into moral decadence. Are we really a nation of maniacs? The clever talkers from Moscow stand before au diences of Chinese, Indonesians, Hindus, and Mau-Maus and explain these things to them, and how can we blame these confused people for choosing communism? We say, "Welt, that's only one side of America." But must we hav two sides? Must we have this ugly insane side also? Religion is one answer, a return to the faith that gave this nation stability and stren gth at least a return to some sort of religious idealism. But the burden of cleaning house is not the sole responsibility of the church. Those six days a week when we are not in church are even more important. The everyday pur suits, the jobs we work at, the pleasures we seek, the ends we have in view down deep in our individual subconcious thcr are the things that need attention. We need active participation in things that make for stability, for calm, for reason, for decency, for inspiration. There is no better answer, no more immediate and effective answer, than in the field of cultural arts. The ways of painting and music and craftsmanshrp are subtle and magnetic. Our sickness is a soul-sickness, and these things have a way of sifting into our souls in a quiet way, making us whole again. The man who leaves his office with a headache can sit for half an hour listening to Schubert or Mozart, and be refreshed;-If he cannot, then for the sake of his health he had better try it. The housewife who finds herself harried, uncertain, put upon, and purposeless, can pick up her pallette and work for an hour on her canvas, and all of a sudden the world is new and white once more. If she cannot do this, then she had better learn how. Why? Because, as the words Tcre spelled out on the sundial in Alfred Tennyson's lawn, "For lo, the night comelh." Green, Hunter Dramas Pose Influence Of Grass Roots Against Broadway Ed Yoder The death of Dr. Howard W. Odum, for years a leader in the creative work of the University, brought specu- lations as to whether that creative work is growing or waning. The outdoor dramas now making a widening sweep of the U. S. have their realf seeds in Chapel Hill. Yet,P when speculations about cre ative actibity here were be-. ing made, mention of them,f 4 4 was sparse. The credit for these striking additions to the American theater must go first to Paul Green, formerly a member of the philosophy department and a Pulilzer-prizewinning play wright, and to Kermit Hunter of the English department whose pen has produced excel lent outdoor plays for the western parts of the state. Paul Green's first outdoor drama, "The Lost Colony," has been playing annually on Roanoke Island since 1937 a long run in the history of any theater. Mr. Green's other continuing play, "The Common Glory," . draws thousands of spectators to Williams burg, Va. There, among restored colonial ar chitecture, hoop-skirts, top hats, phaetons, on the old tramping grounds of Tom Jefferson himself, "The Common Glory" recounts the American Revolution. Both "The Lost Colony" and "The Com mon Glory" recounts the American Rebolu tion. Both "The Lost Colony" and "The Com mon Glory," are uniquely American dramas. So are Mr. Hunter's western North Carolina plays VHorn in the West." the story of Dan iel Boone, and "Unto These Hills," telling of the hite man's shameful banishment of the Cherokees to Oklahoma. Not only, them can the outdoor plays be accounted real products of the creative force in Chapel Hill and the University of North Carolina. They symbolize a new movement in the American theater: a movement that stands in direct ranks with the folk theaters, a movement repudiating the idea that Broad way is the focal -point of the genuine Ameri can drama. Mr. Hunter, in eloquent and outspoken article for the New York Times on theatre section last July, set forth the credo of out door drama: "The plays," Mr. Hunter wrote, "speak for the people themselves, their ancestors, and the ideals of American freedom which inspired the pioneers. The plays thus emerge with a firm religious tone, a sense of moral and intellectual integrity, a richness and a verve which, though hardly typical of the Broadway mood, are solidly characteristic of the American mind." Mr. Hunter believes that "great national drama can rise only out of the people them selves. . . Here in the summer outdoors is being born the greatest and newest and most important movement yet seen in the Ameri can Theatre." Mr. Green affirmed that belief in his re cent coJlection of essays, Dramatic Heritage: "Where there were once five thousand thea tre stages in the country and all an exten sion of Broadway and its syndicalists; now there are . . . fifty thousand, built and 'creat ed by the people themselves for their own . . . purposes and vision. . . . Though many of these plays and their productions are crude and unfortunately naive, they are still their own and have an enriching meaning to them. And always the quality is improving." . A feeling possibly lies behind the success of these outdoor dramas that America has served too long an apprenticeship to the old er ways of Europe that the theater arts in this, country must sever the ties of imitation and begin to incorporate into their work what is distinctly native. The outdoor dramas are dramatizations of American ideas and ideals. They pose what is native against what is 'foreign; they pose the influence of the grass roots against the me tropolitan influence of Broadway They have succeeded in gaining integrity and respect without playing the role of copycats. Thev are national without being nationalistic ' The outdoor drama of Mr. Green and Mr Hunter is young. From the beginning it has won respect from the critics;; but best of all it has been greeted with enthusiasm bv mill ons of people whose enthusiasm for drama vsou d ordinarily be nil-but who feel in th ct lllln 3 reVitalizati- of ideas th y' can claim as their own.
Daily Tar Heel (Chapel Hill, N.C.)
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Jan. 13, 1955, edition 1
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