Newspapers / Daily Tar Heel (Chapel … / Feb. 19, 1967, edition 1 / Page 2
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LIZARD OF THE WEEK: You canH trust auvbodv m m around here these days. Kerry Sipe mnmis Are Called H Opinions of The Daily Tar Heel are expressed in its editorials. All un signed editorials are written by the editor. Letters and columns reflect only the personal views of their contributors. SCOTT GOODFELLOW, EDITOR DTH Awards. Of The Week Lizard Of The Week To the Harvard narcotics peddler who sold LSD capsules before exams. The capsules contained a power ful laxative. Attitude Of The Week To Dame Joan Vickers, speaking to Britain's House of Commons, "We all know that the only really safe oral contraceptive is the word, 'No Assignment of the Week To Boston Herald reporter Anthony Matejczyk ( ! ) who was sent to the top of Mount Washington to see if the mountain deserved its reputa tion for nasty weather conditions. He was supposed to return Thurs day, but snow, hail, fog, thunder, .lightning, 1G0 mile-per-hour winds and below-zero temperatures ma rooned him. , Copier Of The Week To the Morrison Xerox machine, which in less than a week almost incited a student picket line and caused the reigning aristocracy on campus, the Book Exchange, to reverse its -policies in a dramatic move to Fraternity Integration I A Good Thing For UNG 'V Last week the fraternity system - or I ifstMrt ns 4 mi. 2 ... -.1 at iavjuauii uiiegicueu. mis wecK the fraternity system at UNC in tegrated. p And that's all there was to it. It was perfect. We have always been aware that the entire fraternity system is based upon principles of discriimV nation not necessarily Negro discrimination. It seemed that the fraternity system was incompati ble with any move toward integra tion. For this reason we have worried. TIT- 1.1 i we cuuia see me aay wnen an aormous controversy would would not integrate. We could see the fraternity system greatly damaged. We could see the Uni- versity once again slam into a wall of public opinion. But is is no longer a problem the first step is the vital one. Why? Because the brothers of St. Anthony Hall used their fra ternity's principles of character discrimination to leap ; the" raciali discrimination barrier and select a new member of their choice;- It If is thinking of this sort which we are proud to have in our Univer sity. Many rushes may pass before another fraternity takes the s t e p which the St. Anthony Hall broth ers took this week. But somehow when the mood begins to spread among the fraternities, it will not; be as difficult a decision to make. The decision will be easier be cause of this week. Ever Frolic In THe Nude? We can't help but find a bit of humor in the fact that man's best friend is a so-called dumb animal. Dogs have been a favorite subject of writers down through the ages and we're no different. . Is the following list of doggie benefits an indication that your dog is dumb? He sleeps when he wants to usually all day. He never goes to work; play is his passion. He's called in when it's time to eat. He never has to eat spin ach, leftover beans or cottage cheese. He never has a nervous breakdown, an ulcer or hernia. He doesn't have to dress for any occasion, he pays no taxes and doesn't have to stand in line to get" his licenese plate. He doesn't have to worry about the draft, getting stuck in an elevator or remembering to fast en his seat belt. He's yet to go to school or attend choir practice. He could care less if being skinny or overweight is unsightly and cholestrol is something he's never heard of . And what's more his sexual drives are uninhibited and are not subject to legal control. So ask yourself, when's the last time you slept all day, felt like a million, frolicked around in the nude, enjoyed a home and family without ever getting an education or going to work, didn't care about your appearance and enjoyed sex in your own front yard or the neighbor's? -Now just how dumb does that sound? Steve hail 311? iattg ar tjl 74 Years of Editorial Freedom Scott Goodfellow, Editor Tom Clark, Business Manager Sandy Tread well, Manas. Ed. John Askew Ad. Mgr. Peter Harris . .. . Associate Ed. Don Campbell News Editor Kerry Sipe Feature Ed. Jeff MacNelly Sports Editor Ernest Robl Asst. Sports Editor Jock Lauterer Photo Editor David Garvin .. ..... Night Editor Mike McGowan Photographer Wayne Hurder Copy Editor STAFF WRITERS Lytt Stamps, Ernest Robl, Steve Knowlton, Carol Wonsavage, Karen Freeman, Hunter George, Drummond Bell, Owen Davis, Joey Leigh, Dennis San ders, Penny Raynor, Jim Fields. CARTOONISTS Bruce Strauch, Jeff MacNelly. The Daily Tar Heel is the official news publication of the University of North Carolina and is published by students daily except Mondays, ex amination periods and vacations. Second class postage paid at the Post Office in Chapel Hill, N. C. Subscription rates: $4.50 per semes ter; $3 per year. Printed by the Chapel Hill Publishing Co., Inc., 501 W. Franklin St, Chapel Hill, N. C. Calmness Of The Week To NSA representative Eric Van Loon, who after describing how the NSA meeting room was filled with hidden microphones, how camera crews watched from across the street, and how snoop ers seemed to pop up everywhere, remarked, "We'd known the place was bugged for a long time." Nudist Of The Week Again to Florida's Pamme Brewer who was put oh a year's probation Tuesday. "We are going to watch her very carefully," said a Uni versity spokesman. Torrid Scandal Of The Week To the Morrison canteen after it was revealed last week that the hamburgers served there are only 30 per cent meat. Expansion Of The Week To the Student Party, the smaller par ty on campus, which announced that they will hold their convention in Memorial Hall since no place else is big enough. At- ' &smJ wf Ia I John Greenbacker Adlam9 Fallen Folly (Editor's note: We on the staff of the DTH welcome back John Greenbacker and his column to the pages of this paper.) . ' In the past, this columnist, as well as many others better established in the trade, has taken a strong stand condemn ing New York Congressman Adam Powell. I have tabulated with journ alistic efficiency, the sum to tal of his sins agmst the Amer ican public and have conclud ed by casting my lot with those who seek Powell's censure. Now, my support stands be- . hind Adam Powell. When the improbable disk, "Keep The Faith, Baby," hits the record store, it will have one clam-, oring customer in Chapel Hill. : The reasons for this conver sion are undeniable, and they mesh into a pattern of under- standing. Adam Powell comes iirom Harlem. He has repre-, i sented the ghetto man in Con-' s ' gress for hot two, but 23 years.' Since World War II, the Ne gro preacher, dressed in cus torn tailored suits and alliga tor shoes has walked the 4 Capitol hallways. He was aloof and arrogant to his white col leagues, who resented him and -his building seniority. His con stituents, however, loved him. He was their hero. But when Adam Powell be came too powerful, Congress reacted harshly. The commit tee's chairman became too free in his dealings, his es tranged wife was put on the payroll, and she collected tax funds without work - in exchange. Nepotism is not un common in Washington, but it becomes a crime in congres- x sional minds when the unde serving relative refuses to . waste a little time coming around the office at odd inter vals. And Powell had another grievous fault. He ran after women. It was a Harlem her itage for which he was well, respected, but it didn't gain approbation in the federal cap ital. A Congressman can free ly indulge in a taste for the female sex, as many often do, but the black man's advocate was offensively open about his activities. He had no dis cretion, especially with that pretty secretary of his. Car mine Huff. 'A woman like that should be kept away. And what about those trips to ' Miami on government funds? Congress can over look useless junkets to foreign nations, provided the legisla paradise in the Bahamas Bi they were engaged in fact finding. Powell never did that, so his actions were clearly re prehensible. Yes, Adam Powell was a playboy, and he didn't really give a damn who knew about it, and he had gotten worse since he had achieved a posi tion of power. The Powell to day has much more reprobate than the Powell who took office in 1943. He was totally unde serving of. sympathy. v ; You could see his deplorable state at some of the press con ferences. His face, smiling and flushed from liquor, was lined and creased from the tropical tan. The man who mouthed the hip phrases was past 50 an old roue, and getting older. "Keep the Faith, Baby," the aging rake told the reporters and the chanting dirty words of his constituents. He was one of Harlem's children, that's fpr sure, and he kept the faifh by running off to his vacation paradise in the Bahamas- Bi mini. In Washington they had asked him if he did not pre fer being back there. "Wouldn't you," he retorted, laughing. - No, paradise was not lost for Adam Powell. The sins of sexual pursuit and the party life in a tropical garden of beauty called on Bimini's far island. '. In the clear morning, irri descent red rays would pierce the long symetrical density of the palm fronds or clarify per fectly the beachead and the sea. The aging Adam Powell could awaken to an aware ness of nature that captured the youth Joseph Conrad had called the "romance of illu sions." The fresh breeze was laden with the stimulation of the sea air or the seminal od ors of earth loam that spawn ed lush vegetation. Joyously aware of his environment, the Congressman could don his shorts and walk the floral paths and bright streets until he came to toe ocean. Near the dock, he could board the "Adam's Folly," a trim craft that cut the tinted plate glass of the tropical water in search of primeval adventure. With the salt spray firming his face, Adam would man the lines and battle successfully t he great fish of the sea. Laden with the catch of victory, the boat returned in the waning sunlight. Some days the rain clouds would wash Adam's skin with cool plastic drops j and -. he would have to hurry to - the shelter of the Fountain of Youth Tavern. His face lit in Satanic fire, he would consume tall drinks and laugh loudly with his friends before gam bling the night away. The na tive guides showed him to tourists for a price. "You want to see Adam Powell," they asked, and all the tour ists flocked with avid curios ity to the bar room. His face in his cup, drinking and en joying life, he didn't know how they noted with disgust his age. And in Washington, Em manuel Celler and his co workers continued to cut at Adam's wisdom and decorum but it had only degenerated him into drunken foolishness. The wheels of Washington were grinding, keeping the faith of the nation. Their mo rality now refuse to see Adam Powell in the light of under standing pity. They will grind him up and cast him from their midst. But the vengeance of the Lord can expel him from Washington only. He will nev er be cast from the garden of Bimini's paradise. To Fight Machines j I read in the paper this morning where some fel low in New York put two-bits in a stamp vending ma chine and got 2,760 stamps in return $960 worth. This guv must have been a robot or something. Only a machine gets treated like that by another ma chine. The world of vending machines is a discriminat ing and closely knit society in which few human beings are ever offered special privileges. In business transactions with the metal monsters, men are at an overwhelming disadvantage. Machines, in their silent wisdom, know the shal low minds of the men who seek to use them. They separate the weak from the strong. They know their friends from their enemies. The man in New York was obviously a friend. He never kicked or beat a machine that refused to deliv er his dimes-worth. Occasionally he may have put a few extra pennies into the slot when he, purchased something from a machine just to appease the ven dors and strengthen his position in their good graces. I, on the other hand, have been branded as one of their enemies. The machines judged and found me guilty when I was a young boy, before I was old enough to realize the penalty I would have to pay for my trespasses. While playing in the neighborhood around my home one day near the skeleton-frame of a half-built new house, I happened upon some small metal disks that the workmen had punched from the light switch boxes when they wired the house for electricity. Round and smooth, they were a dull lead color and about the ame size and weight as a twenty-five-cent piece. i r Their close resemblance to quarters was not fully appreciated until several weeks later when I was caught thirsty and penniless after a ballroom danc ing lesson at the neighborhood community center. I took the silver disk the only thing in the pocket of my Sunday suit - and dropped it into the slot of one of the soft drink machines that lined the corridors of the place. The result was instantaneous. The machine's ef ficient whirr changed to an uncertain rattle. Its cheer ful fluorescent lights waned and blinked. With a pain ed cough, as if the piece of metal were caught in its throat and was strangling it, the machine stopped cold. Needless to : say I, didn't get my soft, drink. I naa Killed it. Yamkg Go Home! Article From The Amherst Student By DAVID T. MOORE "Our government is not sim ply, bombing steel and con crete," said Barbara Deming, who visited Hanoi last Christ mas, "but is waging a war of terror against the civilians of North Vietnam to make them surrender." Last December, Miss Dem ing and three other American women went to North Vietnam to witness themselves the ef fects of the conflict there. Their trip was not sanctioned by the Johnson administration, which has subsequently void ed their passports. VISIT BOMBED AREAS The four women were taken on a tour of the areas sur rounding Hanoi, where they were shown numerous build ings, bridges and civilians al legedly struck by American bombs. . "We stood among the wreckage of s c h o o 1 s, chil dren's playgrounds, pagodas, workers' and peasants homes, and Catholic churches," re called Miss Deming. In response to the U. S. gov ernment's statement that only military targets of steel and concrete are being bombed in North Vietnam, Miss Deming described a weapon known as the "Lazy Dog" bomb, which she asserted is being, used ex tensively by American pilots. The "Lazy Dog", she said, is a long metal cylinder contain ing approximately three hun dred baseball - sized spheres which all explode and scatter thousands of small pellets in every direction. The signifi cant fact about these bombs, noted Miss Deming, is that "these little pellets have no effect against steel and con crete; they are designed very specifically for the flesh." Miss Deming said that the fact that these bombs are be ing used by the United States raises serious questions about the veracity of the government reports on the entire war in .Vietnam. If we cannot believe the administration's claim that only military targets are being bombed, she asked, how can we be sure of the rest of the accounts? "We are waging this war against children and helpless people," Miss Deming assert ed. "Americans must ask themselves, 'What are we do ing, what are we becoming? What are our actions in Viet nam going to symbolize to oth er generations, what are they symbolizing to the rest of the people in the world today?" . When Miss Deming and her companions were in Hanoi, they were granted an inter view with President Ho Chi Minh. They emerged from the conference, according to Miss Deming, with the conviction that the North Vietnamese are resolved to fight against American domination as long as they are able to breathe. To the Vietnamese, she assert-, ed, "the war is a struggle for independence from foreign in fluence. As Ho says, it is a fight for freedom from slave ry." The one way we can 'de feat' these people," Miss Dem ing went on, "is to extermi nate them all. And we have to ask ourselves if we want genocide committed in our names." Calling the excessive anti communism in this country a "mental deformity," Miss Deming said, "We are suppos edly in Vietnam to 'stop Com munism' and to secure self determination for the people; but we are self -determining what they want We are not willing to admit," she contin ued, "that the people might want communism. We can't hear the cry, 'Yankee, please go home!" The word spread quickly, and soon every vending machine in the state had heard the story and knew my description. Odd things began to happen to me whenever I was around the machines. I tripped over their power cords. I got my finger caught in their coin clots. More than once I found the neck of my soft drink bottles chipped with the broken-glass in the bottom of the bottle. I realized soon enough to save myself that they were trying to get me. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a slug for a slug. I carefully began to avoid dealing with the machines. I simply refrained from purchasing anything unless there was a human being around to sell it to me. The economic pressure was too much for them. After several months I received a formal truce through the mail from their leader, a large UNIVAC 190 somewhere in the North. It promised to spare my life if I would resume open trade with the vendors. Things are quieter now when I go to buy a soft drink or a pack of cigarettes from a machine. I am no longer in fear of my life. The machines even yet, however, have their own little ways of letting me know that they haven't forgotten about my past: When I press the button marked "Coke" the machine never fails to deliver quinine water. I have learned to get my way by pressing the button for quinine water instead. When a machine takes my dime and gives noth ing in return, I just fashion an "out of order" sign and tape it over its coin slot. Usually the machine sur renders my coin immediately. When a machine delivers me a stale pack of cigarettes or a broken soft drink bottle or a sour ice cream bar, I am left no alternative put to pull out its plug. The plug is a machine's most vulnurable point. I hate to do it, but if we don't stop aggression where ever we find it, heaven knows where it might end. I get along pretty well with vending machines now. We understand each other. They don't trust me and I don't trust them. I pass along my experience, in the chance that you might be able to profit from it in your own deal ings with the vendors. Maybe you're like the guy in New York who con sorts with the iron dictators and gets special favors in return. If you've already sold your soul to the ene my, forget it. But if you'd rather fight the oppression and in justice that the machines force on us, the line forms here. We may lose a few bottles, but we'll win the war.
Daily Tar Heel (Chapel Hill, N.C.)
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Feb. 19, 1967, edition 1
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