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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Nov. 11, 1980)
Viewpoint ,o The Battalion Texas A&M University Tuesday November 11, 1980 Slouch By Jim Earle Maybe you-know-who IS on the side of the church schools. Treasuring memories of the campaign trail By DAVID S. BRODER WASHINGTON — “Hooray and hallelujah. You’ve got it coming to you. Congratualtions, Mr. President. Or congratulations, Mr. Presi dent-Elect.” As these words are written, I don t know whether it is Jimmy Carter s or Ronald Reagan’s day to celebrate. But whoever is rejoicing when these words are in print, I say, just like the song, “Goody-goody for you. And I hope you’re satisfied, you rascal you.” This column was written in the near-terminal stage of campaign fatigue, as you might have gathered by now, and in that strange mood, a sense of enormous relief that it is finally over is mixed with the sudden realization that a lot of it was wonderful fun that cannot be relived. The campaign began for me a year ago in Waterloo, Iowa. On my first night ever in that town, I was taken home for dinner by a dashing local lawyer named Henry Cutler, a man with a passion for both politics and theater. He threw a steak on the broiler himself, because his wife, Lynn, was out already campaigning for Con gress. Two weeks ago, he had a heart attack and did not live to see the campaign end. Astonishingly, almost every Iowan one met was as hospitable as Hank Cutler, making you understand why Gov. Bob Ray’s politics of de cency could last as long as it has. New Hampshire came next and provided the worst and best nights of the whole campaign. The worst? The evening I decided Lou Cannon and I could best cover the Republican candi dates’ debate in Manchester off the TVs in our motel — only to discover at the hour the debate began that it was not on live television in Man chester. That phone call to the office was a bit difficult. The best night? The visit to a secluded res taurant, off in the New Hampshire woods, where a Swiss emigre cooked in an 18th centruy kitchen for a clientele of six. Its name, I will whisper, is the Silver Quail. But even if you find your way, which is not easy, you will not have the company of those superbly charming politicians, Susan McLane and Liz Hager, and their husbands, as we did. They were not the only heroines of New Hampshire. Dudley Dudley and Joanne Symons rank right up there, for persevering in the cause of Edward M. Kennedy when they knew — far earlier than most — that Democrats in 1980 were not buying what Kennedy was selling. This was a year when the women were dis tinguished by both their numbers and their quality. It was in the Oregon primary that I first Warped New class schedule promises brighter future next semestei Baseball managers get excited when the new rosters come down from the front office. Gar deners look forward to new seed catalogs in February. I like the new class schedule. It means so much. First, it is a reminder that the current semes ter is almost over. That’s refreshing news when I’m bored with classes but still face a lot of work. It assures me that life does not end with finals in December. More important, the new schedule — a seemingly insignificant 76 pages of course list ings and ads — elicits my favorite semesterly resolutions: Next time I will do better; I will outline the chapters as I read them instead ol the night before the exam; I will start the re search paper (a semester-long project) more than two weeks before it’s due. Next semester will be a new beginning, and I’ll finally get serious about being a student. At least that’s what the new schedule allows me to resolve. See why I like it? It removes guilt. It’s a ritual. Like all rituals worthy of the name, it cleanses my soul and lets me look in the mirror with something other than contempt and disappointment. See, the schedule says I have a chance to do better. Inside/ou tlook ByLizNewlin On another level, the schedule is entertain ing. It’s fun to piddle with the hours and classes and fill in the trial schedules on the back. Can I take this course and that course and the one I need all in the same semester? Let’s see. The schedule is a jigsaw puzzle, but better because I define the outline and then try to piece the clouds together. It also gives me the illusion of control over my life, or at least the next semester of it, and I need that about now. The crush of33,498 other students and a few thousand professors is press ing harder, and control over my own destiny becomes important. The schedule also makes good reading. Did you know this University offers courses on farm tractors, digital speech analysis, shooting sports, solar engineering, nut culture, fun damental baking (any pecan pies i tured nuts?), sound patterns in Engi| dustrial freehand sketching? The breadth and diversity is amaal As a hint for schedule-browsing, looi| 489 courses. They’re “special topics”s that have not yet made it into tlie st^ catalog, and perhaps never will, most off-beat, interesting and corati courses are first listed here, andafewan| to almost anybody. On a critic’s note, the cover pictured a bit of praise. It shows two typical,! Aggies. The collection of Aggie faces ing Reveille — was another good covei j One recent cover, however, wasn’tti rate. It showed a "line to adviser’’tiati around the floor of Rudder Tower an a three-hour wait. That doesn’t happen. Usually registri short, fairly pleasant experience, pens to your course selection aftemj course, may not be pleasant, hut rea does not deserve the slap it got. Back to the subject, the schedule isi semester pick-up It promises hope ami ledge, and maybe a little wisdom. Whi free booklet gives as much? realized, with a start, that every presidential headquarters in Portland was being run by a woman. When I got to Connecticut this fall, it was no surprise that Carter and Reagan were being managed by two marvelously shrewd old pros named Patti Knox and Mary Ann Knous — who became good friends during their common away-from-home assignment, candidate loyal ties notwithstanding. Connecticut taught me a lesson in the falsity of cliche assumptions. Reagan’s primary cam paign was managed by Tony Nania, whose Re publican loyalties did not keep him from taking a day off for the funeral of his mentor and hero, liberal activist Allard Lowenstein — another of the good friends who will not be around to add joy to another campaign. There were other unexpected discoveries, none more surprising than Jerry Brown’s digni ty in defeat. His Wisconsin primary campaign was a travesty, and the night before the vote, he was bouncing off the walls of the Pfister Hotel in frustration. But when he lost, he took it with good grace, accepting the blame himself and staying around to console his workers. John Connally and Howard Baker Jr. did just as well in their concession statements, but somehow you expect that of the old pros. Kennedy enlisted my sympathy — and that of many others — by his fortitude in what he knew was a losing fight. His chipperness was a daily rebuttal to the slurs on his character or courage. I am prejudiced in Kennedy’s favor, and I might as well admit it, because his charter flight circled Mount St. Helen’s for a 15-minute view, barely 24 hours before that beautiful mountain blew its top off and became a mound of gray ash. I thought that was a good story to bring home from Oregon, until I learned that Jack Ger- mond of the Washington Star had once again scooped me — taking off from Portland airport just at the volcano was erupting. Curse you, Germond. One other happy memory: The look on John Anderson’s face when he came onstage at Bos ton University, back last winter, and disco vered that he, Mr. Mild-Mannered Unknown, could not only fill a college auditorium to over flowing, but inflame the youths to screaming passion merely be stepping from behind the curtain. I hope he has many such memories to trea sure today and I hope Tuesday’s other losers, whatever their names, have their own to con sole them. Cheers to all of them. And just think, it won’t be long until another campaign begins. It’s your turn Team can win only with our backing Editor: I’ve been an Aggie all my life and my four years at Aggieland from 1970-74 confirmed my blood type as “Deep Maroon. I’ve missed very few Aggie football and basketball games since I was in high school, so I’ve seen our worst de feats in school history (1970 and 1980 games) and some of our better teams and seasons. I didn’t join the bandwagon when we started winning again in 1974. I’ve been there for a while, win or lose. I admit I cried, literally, very bitter tears following our loss to Rice this year. I cussed, screamed, lost my temper and swore I’d never attend another Aggie football game. Ever. How could that team disgrace itself and this fine university, and embarrass me with their inept, half-hearted effort, I raved from the third deck? But days later, following a calm discussion with some of the Aggie players, I changed my ignorant, arrogant attitude. I realized I wasn’t the only one embarrassed. But fortunately, I hadn’t been on the field, on television, etc., getting my wrist broken, my knees torn, my head cracked, my shoulders separated and my very sensitive pride and spirit torn apart by other players and unfavorable scoreboards. I was lucky. I could walk out of the stands at any time I damn wll pleased, regardless of the score. The team, for over 100 years, has never been that lucky. That’s when I realized what an ignorant, self ish SOB I had been. My ranting and criticizing did no good. My only contribution can be vocal, yelling FOR the team. I never played or coached football so I can’t call the plays for anyone. I can only yell and pray. (Which some times irritates other less vocal alumni on the third deck!) My attitude about this year’s team has changed. I believe in these young guys we have. I know deep down they are winners. They can do it. They can win. But only if we back them 200 percent. We need a united 12th Man, yelling itself hoarse for these guys. We need to rebuild our own confidence and pass it on to the team. They’ll feel it if we do. But they’ll feel nothing but “LOSE-LOSE- LOSE” if we don’t turn this thing around NOW! I believe in the coach and the team. I know they’re young and decimated by injuries and dismissals. I know they’ve been racked by dis sension and lack of leadership. But I still believe — I HAVE to that they can turn the season arounddj up three quick victories. We have no choice but to fight back — all of us-am those Aggie jokes back in their faces, them we have pride in ourselves and our Give our players back their confident help them hit the Hogs with all theyvef We can do it. It won’t be easy, bull helluva lot better than sitting around and and cussing the coach and players for tbf loss and past errors. What’s done is do® can’t start 1980 over. So let’s finish changed attitude and a winning team. No one else wants us to win. We haveto it and fight for it. For ourselves. I belie' can. I KNOW we can. It takes everyfe WIN and thinking POSITIVE. This team can do it. Let’s show know that, too. Hank Walirminf BLENDS By Scott McCullar YOU KNOW THIS CAMPUS WOULD 6£ A LOT BE TIEK OFF WITHOUT THE GA7S A VO THE DAMNED MINORITIES WELL GENTLEMEN, ONE OF THE ADVANTAGES OF BEIA/G A CARTOONIST. // IS BEING "STAMP SHOES 1 ABLE TO TAKE THE IN THE OTHER MAN'S CONCEPT STEP THAT WE'RE ALL HERE TO GET AN EDUCATION, WHY WASTE OUR INTELLIGENCE ON HATE? ,v, The Battalion U S P S 045 360 MEMBER Texas Press Association Questions or comments concerning any editorial» Southwest Journalism Congress should be directed to the editor. Editor Dillard Stone Managing Editor Rhonda Watters ^dS'" 8 ^ LETTERS POLICY AssL City Editof Angelique Copeland uittreloll.Ed/lorsSnnWaoIooeedwLuk Sports Editor. Richa 1 d Oliver d/JC / are subject to being cut if they are longer. TheeAitorii Asst. Sports Editor Ritchie Priddy reserves the right to edit letters for style andknglky‘\ Focus Editor Scot K. Meyer make every effort to maintain the author's intent. Earid Asst. 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