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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
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