Page 2/The Battalion/Friday, September 11, 1987
Opinion
Pallmeyer: The man, the myth, the legend
If you’ve never
heard of Karl
g
Pallmeyer, then
don’t bother
% pMg; \ j
lifef
reading on.
But if you’ve
BBS *•’%.:
- x
been around this
school for any
significant length
of time, and
you’ve either
faithfully or
occasionally read
Sondra
Pickard
The Battalion, then you might have
noticed that a once-unique part of this
newspaper is now gone.
Graduation called, and Karl
Pallmeyer left. A Battalion legacy, as I
like to think of him, has moved on.
Karl wrote for The Batt for about
three years, and during those three
years, Karl made more people mad than
. . . well, I’m sure he made everyone
mad, at at one time or another. Those
he didn’t upset were die-hard Pallmeyer
fans. In other words, you either loved
him or hated him — when it came to
Karl, there was no in-between.
Karl made a difference at The Batt,
and I’d like to believe that his words
made a difference at Texas A&M. In
the time that he was here, many minds
were changed. After reading his
columns, the staunch conservative
majority was usually outraged, while the
more liberal minority celebrated. But
more important, Karl made us all stop
and think — he was a master at it. If
only for a few minutes after each
column, he forced us to question what
was going on around us, whether on
campus or across the world. At times he
was subtle about it. Most of the time he
wasn’t. But it takes a lot more than
subtlety to get through to people —
especially Aggies.
If you were around this summer and
had the privilege of reading his last
Battalion column, you know he went out
in flying colors. But I think Karl
warrants much more than just “so long,
it’s been fun.” Before the remainder of
his loyal readership — whether fans or
foes — graduates, more should be said
about what he accomplished here.
I remember the first time I saw Karl
in The Batt newsroom. At the time, I
was a wee sophomore, just enrolled in
the beginning reporting and writing
class. I hadn’t even considered working
for the newspaper, and the thought of
someday being editor didn’t exist. My
journalism adventure had only just
begun, but Karl had already established
a singular reputation.
He was sitting in front of a computer,
leaning back with his feet propped up
next to the screen and the keyboard
resting on his lap as he wrote. He was
never without a calm, relaxed
expression. He was obviously at home
there and content with the words he was
writing — words that would probably
wreak havoc and cause great discontent
the next day. Every now and then, Karl
would glance up and smile, but he never
said much. When he did, it usually came
out quietly, and when he talked, it was
always worth listening.
Mail Call
LSD fans were awful
EDITOR:
Last Saturday four Louisiana State University fans were arrested by police.
The Aggies were outscored and had their campus trashed. I, as well as
countless other Aggies, am appalled by the atrocious behavior shown by a
group of people who were visitors at our school. Prior to the game I had
heard stories of their lewd and immature actions, but I never expected them
to pour beer throughout and threaten to spray-paint (cans in hand) our
newly dedicated Alumni Center or taunt and ridicule officers of the law.
Never before have I been so proud to be able to call myself an Aggie. We
may have had less points on the board, but we left with the pride and dignity
in ourselves that exemplifies the truth of Aggie Spirit. Way to go, Aggies!
C’mon Tigers, even t.u. shows more class than you do.
Christi Cano ’88
... but Aggies have been, too
EDITOR:
Reading through the editorials Monday and hearing critiques of the
abominable LSU fans made my thoughts return to an especially rowdy late
November day in Austin three years ago.
I vaguely remember yelling, harassing and provoking a few t-sips. Faint
memories of drunkenly running on the field and taunting our defeated
opponents seem to appear in my head. Unfortunately, I don’t remember
stopping to ask if there were any special traditions we might have been
violating.
Assorted visions of Sixth Street — of fights and, oh yes, an occasional not-
so-polite word coming out of the mouth of a fellow Ag — haunt my
memories. And what was that song we sang? Something about “Texas Bites?”
I do distinctly remember hearing several times, “I sure will be glad when
they’re gone.” I remember these incidents all too clearly when I hear about
these horrible guests called LSU fans. Maybe someone should write about
hypocrisy instead.
Elizabeth Harwell ’88
A student or a guest?
EDITOR:
Sometimes I wonder what being a student at Texas A&M is all about. This
weekend I ended up watching the A&M-LSU game on TV. Why? Because I
didn’t have my student I.D.
I did have my paid fee receipt, a valid Texas driver’s license and my
student I.D. from last fall. The only option I had was to purchase a guest
sticker for an additional $ 10.
Common business practice says that the customer is always right. Texas
A&M students pay to attend their school’s games — and then are expected to
pay even more. I wonder what will happen when the students turned away
from their football game are asked for donations to the school after
graduation. Are we going to feel like cherished former students? Or like
guests?
Kelly F. Snook Boles ’88
Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words in length. The editorial staff reserves the right to edit letters
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must include the classification, address and telephone number of the writer.
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The Battalion Editorial Board
Sondra Pickard, Editor
John Jarvis, Managing Editor
Sue Krenek, Opinion Page Editor
Rodney Rather, City Editor
Robbyn Lister, News Editor
Loyd Brumfield, Sports Editor
Tracy Staton, Photo Editor
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also liis most avid readers. Already
semester, an irate gentleman hasa.- \ L arIsi
to complain about Karl and to ash:
R
“So this was Karl Pallmeyer?” I
thought. “That radical, obnoxious,
communist-columnist that I’m supposed
to hate if I want to be a ‘Good Ag?’ ” I
said hello, and expected him to jump up
and start ranting and raving at me about
how ridiculous traditions were, how
wonderful the Soviet Union was, and
why in the world was I wearing that
abhorrent bow on my head in his
newsroom? (I’ve never actually worn
one of those bows, but I thought he
might bring up something like that just
for kicks.) I thought of Karl as a bitter,
confused Scrooge — a sort of Grinch-
who-stole-Christmas type who was
unhappy with everyone and everything.
I was dead wrong, just like some of
you were and a lot of you still are. As
anyone else who bothered to take the
time to really know him will tell you,
Karl is a pleasant, happy person who is
really a lot of fun to be around. His
columns often lead you to think
otherwise, but Karl the person was
nothing less than a good person. Maybe
more concerned than most, but, no
doubt, a good person. Judging what he
spent a lot of time trying to do here, I
consider him better than that. It’s not at
all difficult to get on his good side, and I
would venture to say that, once there,
Karl will accept anyone just the way they
are — even if they are in a khaki
uniform or wearing a huge, red bow.
The first day of class this semester,
the guy sitting next to me asked about
my major. Once the word journalism
was out, the conversation quickly turned
to whether I worked for The Batt and
whether I knew Karl Pallmeyer. “Is Karl
still here this semester?” he asked. “That
guy makes me so mad! Why does he
even go to this school? .... I can’t wait
to start reading his columns.”
we would hire such a columnist atilj A Texas A&
respectable institution. At the end. I'mer A&M st
conversation, I finally got in theitu5^ nK l ue use ^
words, Karl doesn t work here . 1
.... , 1 C J nc " l,mt ' vac I i
anymore. Hopelessly contused,govern
with nothing left to shout about,llitjmans.
man could do nothing but hangup"
Karl tried to put a dent in “the $©e related
establishment,” an establishment
needs denting if it’s ever to grow at;
change. 1 le tried to make at leasta : ^ tin g uls !?f c
stop and think about whether whs: a ] e smith an
we’re doing and what's going on ardcfeed the tec
us is really of such paramount grit ulture Exj
importance, is ieallv i ight. justbtos Mi* roGeneSy
:n, Conn., us<
anufacture ih
A science-fiction author named fficiency synd
Harlan Ellison put it this way: “Ac n Hiv-1. 1 he
e bat ulovii us
me else savs so
tew, as neroc
>atriots, martyrs,
reformers in tlu
se rvt
and ;
sari
great sense, and
h their conscien
resist it for ther oi
,. he Vaccine is n
^■rotem coat
the state with their consctenc Smith direct
at MicroC
part; and they are commonly treat .ccine stimulat
enemies bv it.”
The irony here is clear. The
complaints, gripes and moans about
Karl and the things he wrote were
endless. But the complaints, gripes and
moans would be noticeably absent if the
complainers, gripers and moaners
hadn’t read Karl’s columns in the first
place. It seems his worst enemies were
Karl’s rebellion against thesvste:
ironically, became an A&M traditi::
There was a method to his madnei
Whether you believe it or not, that
method had nothing to do with
aggravating people just for the salt
later basking in their aggravation
~lin
By M
Most considered Karl Fallmeyeri Approximate
enemy of Aggieland. I think of hints and retiree)
instead, as its friend. ssifcn Thursd
. . ealtli insurano
Sondra rtekard is a seniorjournL, re( \ h v Scott &
major and the editor ofThe Battobrganization’s 1:
_ Rfrn Gay, adrr
Bryar
A, 0 I>1 Veil
comparing
:red to A&M er
“V\ e want to
Taking to the links in Scotland
We are friends
and fellow golfers,
and we came to
Scotland, where
the game had its
origins, to play the
great courses we
have seen so often
on the telly when
they play the
British Open.
We played the
Old Course here
Lewis
Grizzard
at the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of
St. Andrews, Carnoustie, Royal Troon,
Turnbery, Old Prestwick and Muirfield,
home of the 1987 Open. These courses
date so far back that after a round of
golf in weather that usually isn’t fit for
man nor horse, the first golfers rubbed
sticks together to build a fire to warm
and dry themselves before going home
to the caves.
I could discourse at length about my
impression of Scottish golf courses, but
since I am teeing off shortly, allow me to
offer a brief overview in case you are a
golfer and ever have the urge to take
the same trip.
• THE WEATHER: As one of the
announcers said during the Open at
Muirfield, “If this golf course were an
airport it would be closed.”
• THE ROUGH: Scottish rough is
like the Roach Motel: You may check in
but you won’t check out.
• CADDIES: Listen to what your
caddie says. If he says aim your drive at
the drunken Scotsman on the hill, aim
your drive there.
Your caddie will know exactly what
he is talking about, and if you don’t
listen to him, he might take out your
sand wedge and mash you over the head
with it.
• MOVING THE BALL FOR A
BETTER LIE: I tried that. OnceJt
caddie advised me in no uncertain
terms: “In Scotland we play theM
lies.” I considered such an
interpretation harsh due to the fad
had just sliced my shot to the 18tha !
Andrews into a fat woman’s lapinii
pub that adjoins the course.
• THE SCENERY: Incredible,
providing you can see it through^
rain.
• TOUGH NESS OF THE
COURSES: I’ll put it his way: said®
member of our group who was of
Scottish descent: “Now I knowwhf 5
ancestors left Scotland. To find an
easier golf course.”
• HAS THE TRIP BEEN WOR?
IT? It’s been the thrill of a lifetime
despite the fact my caddie, Bunker^
said, “You’re a wee bit daftifyoucJ
yourself a golfer.”
Copyright 1987, Cowles Syndicate
BLOOM COUNTY
by Berke Breath* J
ouvzr .' pour irm us
-TO YOUR PAST/ We MO PERN
WORLP !9 SHINY... BUT IPS
ALSO COUP ' HERB... SAY
HELLO TO SOMEONE YOU
HAVEN'T SEEN FOR
AWHILE...
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