Page 2/The Battalion/Monday, April 4, 1988
Opinion
Surprise! We really do have culture at A&M
Once upon a
time, one of our
more subversive
communists here
on the page o’
opinion stated
something to the
effect of, “College
Station is a cultu
ral black hole.”
Understandably,
this caused quite a
bit of rabble and
Mark
Nair
So, here I am, about to make a
statement of such earth-shattering, dra
matic consequenses (Walt Whitman revi
vals, Shakespeare by the utilities lake,
Schubert for the whole family) that the
whole engineering world will be rocked,
shaken down to the rubble from which
it evolved. Here goes:
COLLEGE STATION IS NOT A
CULTURAL BLACK HOLE; A&M
DOES INDEED HAVE CULTURE.
Gasp!
refutation, i.e. “A cultural black hole?
Never! Why, we have the Chicken . . .
and . . . and we have Duddley’s . . . and
they actually make you wear a shirt in
Sbisa . . . and we won the Cotton Bowl . .
. and, did I mention the Chicken?”
But even with this abundance of cul
tural variety (if I might be so bold as to
call it a veritable overflowing cornuco
pia of cultivation), I sometimes found
myself agreeing with my long gone, al
though haunting, columnist coun
terpart. I would look at other compara
ble universities (what runs both ways?)
and say to myself, “Where’s all our neat
junk? We should have culture too, even
if we are just plain-ole, pokey A&M.”
My intent today, though, is not to give
a run-down of everything and anything
that we at A&M could possibly mistake
for culture (the sports department at
The Battalion? Nah). We can find the
big things easily enough: OPAS, the Ag
gie Players, the Brazos Valley Sym
phony Orchestra, the art gallery in the
MSC, et cetera. I want to know about
the smaller things, the things we com
plain that we don’t have but really do.
OK, then, here’s a story about the
hidden culture at A&M.
Last spring, I was part of a small
group of crazed students called Die Ag
gie Komodianten. We all had this idea
Jesse shouldn’t be upset
Once again,
Jesse Jackson is
unhappy with the
way the D e m o -
crats will pick their
presidential candi
date. He thinks
the convention
will be rigged
against him.
Specifically, he
doesn’t approve of
the existence of
“superdelegates.”
Mike
Royko
crew of delegates of their own.
Most of them were people who had
never run for office and never held of
fice. Social workers, teachers, students,
welfare recipients and a few who listed
their occupations as “unemployed.”
They even had a registered Republi
can who was an active campaigner for
the Republican governor of Illinois.
Some of them had run for delegate
but lost. Others hadn’t even bothered to
These are 646 prominent Democrats
who will go to the convention without
having been chosen in primaries or cau
cuses, the way the other 3,400 delegates
have been.
They include people like former
President Jimmy Carter, former candi
date Walter Mondale, congressmen,
governors, mayors and other estab
lished political Figures.
The idea of creating the superdele
gates was to give a strong voice to pro
fessional politicians and established
party leaders.
This makes sense, considering that
recent Democratic conventions have
been dominated by people who have
never run for office, never rang a vot
er’s doorbell, and were more interested
in pushing narrow causes than in pick
ing a candidate who might win.
But Jackson thinks it isn’t fair to let
anyone be a delegate if they weren’t
chosen by the voters. And what bothers
him even more is that most of the super
delegates, being practical politicians,
might not want him to be their presi
dential candidate.
That just shows how Jackson’s think
ing has changed over the years.
I’m thinking back to the 1972 Demo
cratic Convention that nominated
George McGovern. Jackson was a dele-
In Jackson’s case, he not only didn’t
run, but he didn’t even bother to vote.
In fact, he couldn’t have voted, because
he hadn’t bothered to register to vote.
Yet, the McGovern crowd, which had
seized control of the party’s convention
rules, decided that Jackson and the
other losers or non-runners, should be
part of the Illinois delegation.
This meant that those who had run
for delegate in Chicago, and had been
elected by the voters to be delegates,
weren’t the delegates.
But those who had run and lost, or
hadn’t even bothered to run, were the
delegates.
At the time, this seemed perfectly fair
to Jackson. In fact, he hailed it as a tri
umph of good (meaning Jackson and
his amateurs) over evil (meaning Daley
and the other professional politicians).
Jackson went to Miami as a co-leader
of the Chicago delegation. He had a fine
time, strutting and posturing for the TV
networks.
Meanwhile, Mayor Richard J. Daley,
the most popular politician in the his
tory of Chicago, stayed home and
watched the shindig on TV.
So did dozens of other established
Chicago officeholders, whose only polit
ical credentials were that the Demo
cratic voters of Chicago kept electing
them to public office.
gate to that convention.
And who elected Jackson a delegate?
Basically, Jackson elected himself.
That was the year the McGovern lib
eral wing decided that the party should
be reformed.
And part of the reform was to require
that each state’s delegation have a
proper quota of minority members,
women and young people.
In Illinois, of course, delegates are
chosen by the voters. And voters don’t
necessarily vote for quotas.
As it turned out, the delegates chosen
by the voters in Cook County weren’t
satisfactory to the liberal reformers.
The voters had chosen Mayor Rich
ard J. Daley and most of the other well-
known, established professional poli
ticians who held public office.
Jackson and his friends thought this
was just terrible. So they rounded up a
At the time, it struck some of us as an
odd arrangement. While Daley’s dele
gates might not have been noble states
men, they were the people’s choice.
On the other hand, Jackson’s dele
gates were the choice of nobody but
themselves.
Of course, when the convention was
over, McGovern eventually came
around begging Daley and the other
worthies to get out the Chicago vote for
him, which they did.
But now Jackson, once an unelected
delegate himself, is miffed because
someone like Jimmy Carter, a former
president, is an unelected delegate.
He is talking about how this violates
the principal of “one man, one vote.”
Jackson should think back to 1972
when his approach has “one man, no vo
te.” And he was the man.
Copyright 1987, Tribune Media Services, Inc.
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Sue Krenek, Editor
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Mark Nair, Opinion Page Editor
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Robbyn L. Lister and
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News Editors
Loyd Brumfield, Sports Editor
Jay Janner, Photo Editor
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of pushing our dramatic skills to the
limit and actually performing a play . . .
in German. All in German. Every little
utterance in German.
Like I said, we were crazed students.
It must have been the caffeine.
But every year since 1981, Die Aggie
Komodianten has gotten together and
performed for anyone and everyone
who cared to see a play done completely
in German. And as much as I kept call
ing myself insane, crazy, loopy and
other varied^ things for even attempting
to portray an adequate knowledge of
German to pull off my part in the play
last spring, I was glad to be a part of it. I
was glad to work those many lost hours,
practicing, practicing and practicing un
til everything was as perfect as we could
get it.
I still remember it, just like it was yester
day.
And then there was the time, in the
first act, where I, THE FIRST DOC
TOR, got punched out by THE SEC
OND DOCTOR. My fall was a spinning,
Don Knots, where-am-I, tongue-hang-
ing-out, eyes-rolling-around, kind of
fall. Ah, the drama, the action, the ad
venture. I’m still getting telegrams
about that scene to this day.
This all leads up to my point that we.
Die Aggie Komodianten, had fun show
ing the A&M world that, yes, there are
students here who know there are other
languages and other cultures outside
College Station. And, yes, there are stu
dents who want to show that to everyone
else.
■are it
SOIUtJ
For example, one of my most mem
orable times on the stage occured when
I, THE MAN BY THE BRIDGE, peer
ing down into a deep gorge, uttered
those famous words: “TWO THOU
SAND FEET.”
Stanislavski couldn’t have done it bet
ter. “TWO THOUSAND FEET.” Wow,
This year, I watched the German
plays (there were three short plays in
stead of one long one), and I actually
understood them. Amazing. Amazing,
and I felt so out of place. I laughed at all
the right spots, making many people
stare at me oddly. Jeepers, I actually
knew what was going on (and for me,
that’s some accomplishment).
But above all, it was culture. It was a
group of students (not to mention
crazed professors who help putita|
gether) who, although not acton
heart, nevertheless stood beforea
ical crowd and tried their best at^
the A&M population some littleW
German.
That’s the small, hidden cultureii
in College Station. We don't have
street artists, the overabundanceot
eign films (although we do have
or the overall ambiance of
found at other places. Hut we
ing some headway. We’ve now
managed to shanghai Charles Goi
the Pulitzer Prize-winning playwi
We’ ve somehow come to realize
yes, there is a College of Liberal
here on campus. You caneventall
losophy out in the open withoutfejj
being called communist then an
beaten and lef t for dead.
Yes, Karl, there is culture at
You just have to know wheretolooh
it, that’s all.
My, how times are a-changin’.
Mark Nair is a senior political
major and opinion page editor k:(
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We want him out
EDITOR:
poverty, tyranny, and oppression are beautiful? I hank
God for people like Students Against Apartheid. Iheyart
a “part of the solution,” not a “part of the problem.”
Brian Federick has demonstrated over and over again
that he is not fit to be a columnist for the daily paper of a
respected university. His column about apartheid was the
last straw. We want him out, Brian’s articles are an
“eyesoar” to our campus newspaper!
Saeid Minaei
Graduate Student
Think about it
EDITOR:
How many people here remember Bob Dylan? He
sings a song that contains the following words. If you-kp
it, sing along. “How many times can a man turn his head
pretending hejust doesn’t see?” Think about it.
Nancy Tanner ’88
Amy Wood ’90
Cathy Mosier ’89
Terri Maggard ’88
The shanty is ugly. Apartheid is ugly. Anyone see the
connection? Does ANYBODY get the IDEA? Yes, it’s a
“blight” and an “eyesore.” Do you think that racism.
Letters to the editor should not exceed 300 words in length. The editorialslufln
serves the right to edit letters for style and length, but will make every
maintain the author’s bitent. Each letter must be signed and must includetkhi
sification, address and telephone number of the writer.
BLOOM COUNTY
by Berke Breatht