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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Sept. 1, 1976)
Page 2 THE BATTALION WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 1, 1976 Cadet Slouch by Jim Earle } &> r(= “Of course he’s not as fast as a computer, but his logic is better at developing schedules. If it’s all the same to you, let’s keep under wraps for the time being! UNIVERSITY SQUARE SHOPPING CENTER ^6^714 g. 846-1151 NOT SINCE LCVE STORY. The true story of Jill Kinmont. The American Olympic ski contender whose tragic fall took everything but her life. And who found the courage to live through the love of one very special man. m ••THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN*’ • THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN" SurnnR MARILYN HASSETT as Jill Kinmonl and BEAU BRIDGES as Dick Bu»k ' Richard s Window sung by OUVIA ”j :’’PlY Lljncs by «mM»H tIMtl • Wuuc by CHARIES FOX paitnm cuioiNCt susustn -32. ; ( STARTS FRIDAY AT 7:15 & 9:20 SAT,SUN,MON ALSO 3:15 & 5:15 THF DAILY * ■ ENDS • THURS. EXORCIST ELLEN Rl H?<LfYN-MAX\ON SYDOy-LEEiCOBB NOW PLAYING The Meeting Place’ THE BEST IN LIVE ENTERTAINMENT 7 NIGHTS A WEEK! NO COVER! Every Sunday — Jazz Every Monday — Progressive Country APPEARING THROUGH SATURDAY: DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF “SOFISTIFUNK” Happy Hour 5-8 Daily OPENING SOON FOR FOOD! No good news for Mr. Ford MADISON, Wis. — In the passage of time and space from the noise and excitement of Kemper Arena in Kan sas City to the quiet and cool of this university town, two scenes from the extraordinary final hour of the Re publican convention have grown more vivid in this reporter’s mind. One was the gesture with which President Ford beckoned his de feated rival, Ronald Reagan, to leave the stands and join him on the podium, from which Mr. Ford had just delivered his acceptance speech. The physical emotion was so right — and so natural — that, craning my neck to see the President over the heads of others in the press stand, I was momentarily transfixed. It was not a gesture of command, summoning Reagan from his seat. Neither was it an imploring gesture, begging him for assistnce. It was a terribly familiar gesture, but not until a day later did I realize why. It was a gesture from a Midwestern boyhood — a memory this reporter shares with Jerry Ford and Ronald Reagan and Bob Dole. If you grew up in Grand Rapids or Tampico, Ill., or Russell, Kan., or my hometown of Chicago Heights, you could remember other August evenings when, supper eaten, dis hes done, you would be sitting on the front porch, or tossing a ball to your dog on the front lawn. A friend would come strolling down the sidewalk — headed for the movie, or the drug store, or the baseball diamond — and with a crook of his arm invite you to come along. You didn’t know what was up, but you David S. Broder knew he was headed toward the ac tion. That was the way the President beckoned Reagan. And the Gover nor, who in his moment of defeat the night before had finally let his pas sion for the presidency show through his actor’s veneer, could no more re sist answering the gesture than he could flub his big scene when he reached the microphone. It was great theater — and great politics — because it symbolized what is best about Jerry Ford. His instincts in personal relations are so natural, so genuine, his gestures so unforced, that it is impossible to be lieve him phony. And that belief is what, if anything, will elect him. But the other riveting memory of the last night carried quite a differ ent message. One prominent Re publican did not see the scene just described. John Connally was gone before any of this happened. He had been sitting in the VIP section a few rows behind the Ford family. His wife, Nellie, was on one side, and Mary Scranton, wife of Ambassador William Scranton, was on the other. I don’t know what kind of com pany he provided for Mary Scranton, but I imagine it may have been a difficult evening. Every time I glanced over in that direction, Con nally looked like a thundercloud. Maybe it was the thought of Dole — his neighbor of the 17th floor of the Meuhlebach hotel — getting the phone call from the President that Connally had wanted, or maybe it was something else. But the scowl was on Connally’s face every time I looked. Even when he was applauding with big, exaggerated gestures — his hands raised almost to the height of his eyes — the expression never changed. And that, too, stirred a memory. It was the last previous convention Connally had attended, the Democratic convention in Chicago in 1968. During all the turmoil in the streets and the hall, Connally had played the role of the enforcer — keeping relentless pressure on Hubert H. Humphrey not to deviate an inch from support of Lyndon Johnson’s policies in Vietnam. At various points, when Hum phrey appeared to be wavering and about to yield to advisers urging him to accept the “peace plank,” Con nally threatened to withthold the Texas votes or even to place Johnson’s name in nomination against Humphrey. Finally, Hum phrey caved in. He won the nomina tion, tied irrevocably to the Johnson record and doomed to defeat. At that convention, too, there had been talk that Connally hoped for the vice-presidential nomination. Maybe yes, maybe no. But I re member him in the Chicago hall, scowling just as fiercelyIH Humphrey’s acceptance sJpres he did through Mr. Ford's tlx Le s^= night. In 1968, he hadbeensitj ck't « the front row with the Texaux e i=» i tion. But the look was the si! }th I cannot recall what Connij j when Humphrey finishedsps hut I won’t soon forget wk pened when Mr. Ford was The instant the speech ended as the cheering began, 1 grabbed his wife by the elk headed for the exit. Onese® L ] was there, the nexthewasie That hasty exit said as imidi! |Thxo Connally’s attitude towards le nu vention, the ticket and the) e cL dent’s chances as anyone nes tomi: know. And it was not goodw pfore Mr. Ford. [ce- (c) 1976, The Washington Posl | For< le N; Th. Grow deaf as we enjoy advances of the SST By EDWARD P. MORGAN I can’t find the exact quotation, unfortunately, but H. L. Mencken once said, in effect, that nobody ever lost a fortune underestimating the intelligence of the body politic. That thought, provocatively un democratic as it is, came to mind when I read a front page headline a while back marking the inaugural of supersonic jetliner service between Europe and Washington. “Thousands cheer arrival of Con cordes,” the headline said. It is quite understandable that throngs of the curious would con verge on Dulles airport to observe - the landing of the most advanced airborne contrivance since the Wright brothers launched their heavier-than-air contraption from the North Carolina sand dunes at Kitty Hawk in 1903. Besides, two commercials SSTs. strangely re sembling stratospheric sharks, landed within minutes of each other on that memorable day, one British, the other French. The two nations have plunged three billion dollars into a 13-year joint effort to produce the SST. And the Russians now have one, too, developed on their own and flying, though it is not clear whether it is flying passengers. There were approving murmurs from the Dulles crowds about the lack of roaring racket at the landings. An official noise-monitoring station said the sound from each Concorde was less than that registered by a Boeing 707. With engines at full throttle, the noise on takeoff was another matter. years ago banned the production of an American commercial supersonic jetliner. But does nobody remember the grounds for the Senate s deci sion: not only the noise problem, which the SST has not begun to solve, but the damage caused by sonic booms as the SST pierced the sound harrier over land? (That is partly why Transportation Secretary Coleman limited SST flight to 16 ex perimental months. New York offi cials have already closed Kennedy airport to the SSTs.) Then there is the ozone factor, a problem still not measured. One theory is that the vapor created by an unspecified number of SSTs, flying either over land or water, would attack the ozone shield which protects us from lethal overdoses of ultraviolet rays from the sun. Finally only a wealthy few can af ford to fly the SST. I 11 blunt my complaints if just one of them uses the time saved to figure out ways to improve the transportation most of us have to grapple with, in the air and on the ground. Morgan is a correspondent for In the Public Interest, a press service of the Fund for Peace. §0. CONCEDING THE SOUTH. TO CAKTER, AND ASSURING THE BIG INDUSTRIAL STATES GO DEMOCRAT... THAT LEAVES US RUSSELL, KANSAS, AND DOWNTOWN GRAND RAPIDS." Che Battalion Opinions expressed in The Battalion are those of the editoi or of the uniter of the article and are not necessarily those of the university administration or the Board of Regents. I he Battal ion is a non-profit, self supporting enterprise operated by stu dents as a university and community newspaper. Editorial policy is determined by the editor. Mail subscriptions are,$16.75 per semester; $.13.25 persdo $35.00 per full year. All subscriptions subject to 5% sales tax« ing rates furnished on request. Address: The Battalion, ‘" , Services Building, College Station, Texas 77843. Rights of reproduction of all matter herein are reserved Second-Class postage paid at College Station, Texas. LETTERS POLICY Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words and are subject to being cut to that length or less if longer. The editorial staff reserves the right to edit such letters and does not guaran tee to publish any letter. Each letter must be signed, show the address of the writer and list a telephone number for verifica tion. Address correspondence to Listen Up, The Battalion, Room 217, Services Building, College Station, Texas 77843. Editor JerryM Managing Editor Richard Chai Campus Editor City Editor Sports Editor Photography Director ^ ev ' 11 1 News Editor , , , Reporters . Paul McGrath, Lee Roy Leschper, LeA®| Represented nationally by National Educational Advertising Servic es, Inc., New York City, Chicago and Los Angeles. Members of the Student Publications Board are: Boh C i Chairman, Dr. Gary Halter, Dr. John P. Hanna, Dr. Clinton! fi Roger Miller, Tom Dawsey, Jerri Ward, Joe Arredondo. Director of Student Publications: Gael L. Cooper Assistant to the Director: W. Scott Sherman 1802 S. TEXAS 846-1053 But the point which the crowd and apparently most of the officials forgot was that many environmentalists, including some in the government, consider most airport noise of virtually all jetliners already too high. Politics has prevented the adoption of reasonable noise levels not only for aircraft but for trucks on the highways. Blind, as it were, to the growing menaces of our mate rialistic age, we may grow deaf as we enjoy such “advances” as the SST. 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