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Page 2-B The Chapel Hill Weekly ] Paraded k 1923 by Lank Graves "If the metier (t important and you are turn of year ground, 1 never fear to be in the minority.” ORVILLE CAMPBELL. Publisher JAMES SHUMAKER, Editor Published eveiy grader rad Wsdueudsy by the Chore) 800 PtfUshtag Cenpray, be. Ml West PrrafcUu Street. Chrael HU. N. C. P. O. Bn m - Tslsybns M7-7M5 ascription rates (payable ia advance rad including N. C. sales tn)-ln North Carolina: One year, $515; six months, $S »; three months, $2.06 Elsewhere hi the United States: One Maurice T. Van Hecke: A Thundering And Wise Whisper Finally Fell Silent Maurice Taylor Van Hecke was one of the best examples in these parts of the old truth that the whispered words of the wise are better heard than the voices of fools shouted in the street. When Mr. Van Hecke died last week a thundering whisper fell silent. Some people act, some people react. Reactors do better led than leading. Mr. Van Hecke was an acter. There was something deeply basic about him. He was the source of something, not mere a conductor of something already sprung from its source. People use a lot of words, but, like nature, he was a hard man to capsule. He came to the University Law School in 1921, stayed until 1923, spent five years teaching at Kansas and at Yale, then came back for keeps, and the Law School began to feel the imprint of the Van Hecke stamp. The Van Hecke stamp acted in many different ways. One man who knew him well called him “judicious, a wise judge who would hear all sides of a question with great patience, and make a decision with great wisdom.” Judicious is not the only applicable word. Kind, gentle, and understanding are others, and were increasingly apparent in the course of years to both students and faculty. The spring, 1963, issue of the North Carolina Law Review was dedicated to Mr. Van Hecke (He was the Review’s first edi tor). “Most of his students have been enthralled,” said the dedication, “and some few have been appalled, but all have been profoundly, impressed.” He profoundly impressed his col leagues in the Law School, too, and the rest of the University as well. He took a particular interest in young men join ing the Law School faculty, not talking down to them from the lofty heights of seniority, but helping them gain their professional sea legs with warm and close personal interest. As far as the rest of the faculty was concerned, not only Mr. Van Hecke’s scholarship but his energy was impres sive. The Difficulty With Old Telephone Books Although most of us do it every year, there is still something that goes against the grain in discarding an old telephone book. The new directory arrives in the mail, clean and crisp, with the corners all square, the spine unbroken, and a cover that has pot yet collected history. It is thumbed through quickly and assign ed its proper place, usually beside the old phone book. Then after a few days the old phone book goes the way of the out-dated. Some toss it into the wastebasket with out a thought, or add it to the pile of papers for the next Jaycee collection without a backward glance. But it is not so casual for everyone. That worn old rag, limp and dog-ear ed, has been around for a year now. More people have used it more often than any other book in the house and each of them has left his mark. Each of the dates and names and addresses scrawled on the cover and inside pages is a story in itself. The doctor’s name, circled twice in ink, recalls a minor crisis. The baby-sit ter’s name has been lined through, with a marginal note advising that she has aged out. Beside a dentist’s number is written “Wed. 11 a.m. Ugh.” Even the three-year-old who has been forbidden the telephone has left a mark. On the inside cover is her wild scrawl in red crayon and peanut butter finger painting. One unidentified number in a spiky, back-slanted hand carries the tender notation “Love you love you love you.” And someone has stabbed a pencil through the yellow page listing plum bers. Billy Arthur’s carries the cryptic notation “No flesh ochre.” Sunday, December 8, .1963 “You knew that whenever he was in charge of something you didn’t have to worry about anything,” said one facul ty member. “He took care of everything, and then he stepped back out of the limelight.” When sending information to the UNC News Bureau for publicity purposes, Mr. Van Hecke went to the News Bur eau; he did not call the News Bureau to him, even last year when he was 70. And then he would ask that his name not be mentioned. People who ask that their names not mentioned often re- Ynain obscure forever. But Mr. Van Hecke was one of the University’s truly nationally known figures in the field of law. Off duty, he was one of the first to turn up at concerts, art exhibits, lec tures. He was not a golfer. You never heard him talking about working in the yard. He spent his time intellectually occupied more than in any other way. “He had as much personal integrity as any man I have ever known,” said one of his colleagues. “You could count on him to tell you honestly what he thought about anything, and why, and there was groping in his mind. His decisions were made not with instinct, but with rationality.” Mr. Van Hecke was never known as an easy mark. The scholastic standards he set for students were high, and he stuck to them. He did not demand A’s of average students, but he would not tolerate mediocrity. You could always tell whether one of Mr. Van Hecke’s class meetings had gone well. You watched his face when he came out of the classroom, and if he thought he had done his job well, there was a twinkle in his eye and a certain brightness about him. If the class hadn’t measured up to standards, he wore a troubled look. Considering the whole of his 71 years of prodigious work, when Mr. Van Hecke died following a heart attack Thursday night, he must have had a twinkle in his eye. There are grocery lists, household budgets, directions to a beach cottage, a recipe for cornflake-fried chicken, the book rent in Chapel Hill schools, and beside one name “Mows grass.” There are birthdays, anniversaries, parties, dinner dates, meetings, compu tations of gas mileage, and for some for gotten reason the distance to Columbia, S.C. (204 miles). Written beside an unknown name is “He phoned,” and you are tempted to call and ask what he wanted. In the course of a year, that tatter ed old phone book has become a com munal diary of sorts, and in many cases the only recorded history of a family’s life. We always discard it in the end. But there are always misgivings, and not altogether because of the string-saver in our souls. * ’ Craven’s Way So when one of the boys said, “Weß, your Tar ft eels lost it again,” we re plied in disgust, “Yeah . . .lousy play ing .. . lousy coaching . . . They ought to do away with, the game at Chapel Hill.” But this conversation took place Some 30 seconds before the end of the game! It’s remarkable how the mettle of men can change so swiftly . . . Caroling is indomitable. Its coach is superb. Asd how fortunate we are to have that magnificent expansion of Ke nan Stadium. May it always be filled. And all this in 30 seconds. —Charles Craven, in The Raleigh News & Observer. Winterset The Line Between Vengeance And Justice The popular concept of justice has gathered about it a full share of cliches, which from overwork and misapplica tion have had all but the most vacuous meaning leached out. The punishment must fit the crime, we say; and thus fortified with right eousness our courts too often exact soc iety’s due with a retributive vengeance that sets the seal on the certainty that the punished will sin again, that far from paying his debc to society, he will force it to .spend thousands for his cag ing and feeding. Attempts to view commission of crime as the sympton of 3 defective society and to rehabilitate rather than to exact penance have until lately been a dilatory concern of the judiciary. Two notable exceptions to this have been Judge Allen H. Gwyn and his “Work, Earn and Save” plan and the State Pri sons Department’s Work Release Plan. The latter, which has been quietly proving its worth for some time, has now offered Robert M. Burch, Kidd 4 Now & Then by Bill Prouty You know, when the American Medical Association decides to get into an act there’s bound to be some smoke around some where. In this case, there is; but for a long time it's been hard for the Association to see the fire for the smoke. Last Wednesday the AMA's bouse of delegates, meeting at Portland, Ore., voted to make an ail-out study of the effects of smoking on health following an American Cancer Society survey which recently showed that the death rate among heavy cigar ette smokers was more than double that of non-smokers. The Cancer Society's report by Dr. E. Cuyler Hammond, direc tor of tbe group's statistical re search, was based on a three year study of nearly 74,000 men over 40 years of age, half of whom smoked a pack or more of cigarettes daily and the other half of whom were nonsmokers. Dr. Hammond, in his paper be fore the AMA’s 17th clinical meet ing, said that during the test period 1,385 of the smokers died as compared with 662 of the non smokers. In this group were 110 cigarette smokers who died with lung cancer as compared with only 12 of the nonsmokers. “It is hard to escape the con clusion," said Dr. Hammond, in perhaps the understatement of the session, "that this difference in the number of deaths was due to the difference in smoking hab its.” In addition, 654 of the cigar ette Inhalers died with coronary artery disease to only 304 of the nonsmokers, while 30 per cent more smokers than nonsmokers were hospitalized daring the test period, and death rates were higher among men who began to smoke eartiwrt, 1t was shown in. Dr. Hammond’s report, which is a continuing study of over 400,000 men between the ages of 40 and Brewer’s co-defendant, the chance to redeem a portion of the cost the State has incurred as a consequence of his transgression. While spending his nights and weekends at Central Prison he will, during the day work as clerk in a Raleigh motel. His earnings will both defray the cost of his imprison ment and enable him to provide for him self once his sentence has been served. In a meaningful way he is being permit ted to make restitution for his wrongs. There are, predictably, points of view which oppose this, men who believe that confinement is part and parcel of impri sonment and that punishment is the es sence of correction. In another day Robert Burch’s treatment would have been considered rank, illegal favoritism and he would have remained in Central Prison, a passive liability to himself and the State. As it is, he has the op portunity not merely for personal bet terment but for advancement of a con cept of correction that is our most im portant hope for the eradication of crime. 89 as Cancer Society volunteers. And so the AMA, with Dr. Hammond’s report ringing in its ears, has decided to make a thor ough study of the effects of in haling smoke on the health of the ever-increaing numbers of per sons addicted to the weed. The Cancer Society’s report will be followed by another one soon to be released by the Public Health Service, which is rumored also to be critical of the use of to bacco. An AMA report on the effects of heavy inhaling of tobacco smoke on life expectancy and on disease of the lungs and heart would carry great weight the world, among smokers and nonsmokers alike. Findings by toe AMA report simi lar to those of the exhaustive American Cancer Society study are a foregone conclusion. Who better than physicians are aware that toe human lung was never meant as a storage place for noxious tobacco smoke. But will toe Hammond report, and the soon to be released Pub lic Health Service study, in case the latter is also unfavorable to tobacco, have any effect on the numt)«r of smokers who are now inhaling gaspers by toe fistfuls? More than likely not? A simi lar report in November of 1959, when Surgeon General Leroy E. Burney of the Public Health Ser vice said that “unless the use of tobacco can be made safe, the individual’s risk of lung cancer can be reduced best by the elim ination of smoking,” produced only a temporary <Bp in the con sumption of cigarettes and a flurry of change-over from the "regular” brands to the "safer” filter makes. The Agriculture Department reports a steady rise in the do mestic consumption of cigarettes of from 346.4 billion in 1958 to 509 billion this year. And so, Mr. Smoker, it’s doubtful if the American Cancer Society's report on the effect of smoking on health, or the immin ent Public Health Study, or the proposed all-out review of the smoking picture by the AMA, even if both the latter are as unfavorable to tobacco as the former was, will give pause for more than a few slow packs, and that in a short while you’ll be burning cigarettes again like they’re going out of style. But if you’re one of those smok ers who mouth is beginning to taste like cotton, and who has forgotten the real taste of good food; if you wake up in the morn ing with a wheezing chest that aches as you reach out to the night table for a getting-up gas per; if you look into your shav ing miror through bloodshot eyes smarting from smoke curling up from a lit butt on the basin’s edge; if you And yourself light ing one cigarette while there’s one still burning, or pulling one out of the pack before you real ize it, or lighting every time you are puzzled or annoyed; if you are thrown into a frenzy by mere ly toe thought that you may find yourself somewhere that you can’t get hold of a cigarette; if a little exertkn leaves you gas ping for air and reaching for a fag. especially if you’ve had a little flare-up with your heart, then maybe you’d better at least read the reports and think about them a little. Or, lacking a taste for such miesome statistics, maybe you’d • like to talk to a fellow who’s been through all this and has fin ally given it up. HE can, and wiil, give it to you straight. But you must have patience, for we former smokers who have given up the habit are perhaps toe most suffocatingly smug of all do-gooders. But we can give you the word if you’re willing to lis ten. BILLY ARTHUR The newspapers report that . “Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor will live in Toronto for five weeks early next year while Burton rehearses (or a title role.” Now, who was it said that he hoped they'd get “married for the sake of the children. Not fheirs—ours”? * * * Speaking of children, the Glen wood Elementary School Gag writers Association met last week and reported out these two wit ties: “What should I wear with my new purple and green socks,” asked a teenager. And her dad replied, “Hip boots.” Definition of a Rotisserie—“A Ferris wheel for chickens.” • * * And, speaking of teenagers, Bernadette Hoyle, who handles the public information for the N. C. Department of Public Wel fare (I think they’ve changed the name of the agency, but I’ve for gotten to what) was in town re cently and came by for a chat. She reported that the teenage fad now in Raleigh is not only slumber parties but hair washing and setting. Seems that the teenagers don’t talk, dance and play records aH night. Instead, they take turns doing each other’s hair, which, of course, is interspersed with a little talking. Or, could it be the other way around? Anyway, one group has taken on the name of “The Hair Wor shippers.” • « * Overheard in the Y-Court: “Now, there goes the reason Bob Quincy This Little Girl, Too, Was A Cinderella The little girl sat across the aisle. In the seat next to the window was a rag doll. It was apparent she was dis cussing something wfth her playtoy, but the words were inaudible. The stewardess, tall, blonde, fashionable, walked past, stopped and returned. She bent over the child, tighten ed the seat belt and went on her way. It was then, as the child turned to face the stewardess, that her features were visible. She was small and she gave the appearance of bending over because of a small hump in her back. Her complex ion was not good. Her hair was taiousy and straight and strands would continually fall to create the illusion of looking through undergrowth. She attempted to say something as the stewardess moved briskly away. She did not earn a response, for the words of this ten or 11-year old were difficult to un derstand. * * * IT WAS THE TIME of Christmas holidays. College students, servicemen, homesick old folks visiting their kin were traveling. This little girl with the humpback was going somewhere, too. Occasionally passengers would view the youngster. Their remarks were obvious. “Isn’t it a shame.” “She is so pitefully ugly.” “Can she talk? Can anyone understand her?” “She must go to one of those schools that teach such children.” * ** * * THE CHILD was in a world of her own, one which she shared with the rag doll. They played together with out quarrel. There were moments when the little girl seemed de pressed. She would set the doll aside and her big eyes would cloud, apparently realizing her loneliness among strangers. She had been placed on the plane. Only the stewardess had said hello. Again she would return to her dream world, she and her dolly, and all would be well. She sang. Not a pretty song, not on key. But she sang and the doll moved from side to side in a kind of rhythm. The flight was this way for perhaps an hour/ Then the tall, blonde, fashionable stewardess, who had found time for the problems of the mature passengers, re turned for her duty check of the seat belt. The little girl looked upward, not quite sure what the stewardess meant. * * * THE PLANE LANDED with a bump and the child uttered a slight noise, obviously startled. “You get off here,” the stewardess said. “Yes, you get off here.” The little girl hugged her doll. The pilot taxied the plane to the ramp and cut the engines. Now the little girl’s nose was'against the win dow glass. Suddenly she turned, her eyes wide with ex citement. “Muv-ver! Muv-ver! Muv-ver!” she screamed. “Muv ver!” The child looked around the passenger compart ment, joy written over her face. Now she shared her discovery with the captive audience. “Muv-ver.” The door opened and a smartly dressed lady walked up the steps to greet the little child with the sallow com plexion, the straight hair and the lump on ho* back. There were tears and love in the eyea of the parent. “Muv-ver!” sighed the little girl, running, her arms outstretched. She squealed as she hugged and kissed her mother and then she turned to the passengers, as if to say, “This is MY mother. She LOVES me.” At that moment, the little girl with the distorted fea tures was perhaps the most beautiful child in he world. Father’s Day raver caught on like Mother’s day. * 8 * * Overheard in the same place: “She talks in stereo out of both sides of her mouth at the same time.” • • • Overheard in South Building: “He's one student I know who will be a failure if he ever gets a profession.” • . • ' * Car pool approaching Estes Hills Junior High School saw the smoke from the furnace. “Looks like we’ve got some heat today,” said one. "Naw,” said another, “they’re just burning the food.” * * * Mrs. Pat Prestoo was telling the Missus she was a wee bit disappointed in the new Chapel Hill Cook Book. “But. oh my, oh my!” she ex claimed. “I forgot you had three recipes in it. That’s just like me. You know I have such a small foot that I guess that’s the reason it goes in my mouth so easily.” • * * Overheard at Memorial Hos pitlal: “She’s just been operated on by a plastered surgeon.” • * * My famiiv often accuses me of interrupting when the chfldreh are talking. And I tell them I belong to the FBl—father butts in. Some other initials that would apolv are PTA—parents tell all; AT&T—always talking and talk ing; OSS older sister spying; and COD—charge old daddy.
The Chapel Hill Weekly (Chapel Hill, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Dec. 8, 1963, edition 1
10
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