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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (Jan. 23, 1989)
Monday, January 23,1989 The Battalion Page 13 British press criticizes ergie about her love jet-setting lifestyle learly ; distinct! d' e muilLONDON (AF) — Sarah Fergu- nary dri; son was lauded as a breath of fresh rased inBin the stuffy world of royal proto- do entitlB when she married Prince An- * APfcfiw two years ago, but today the play of y)i|chess of York is known in some 1 exhifeBirters as “Her Royal Idleness.” ices of iBpritain’s brassy tabloids also are it on kfiBling her “Duchess Dolittle” for withanjBat they view as her love of holi- clamped lap and jet-setting lifestyle, deal hef®\ recent scorecard listing the pub- a skillftiKj engagements of Britain’s royal tfious beRiily put Andrew, a Royal Navy the syntjMitenant, at the bottom with only is, bras* 30 last year. Karah was next with 55, less than ■f those performed by her hus- moods ajPafid’s 88-year-old grandmother, album-iliBeen Mother Elizabeth, najestic Rpuckingham Palace noted that k, ominoBdrew, as a naval officer, was not itch Hu; expected to have other commit- n, theypBnts and that Sarah gave birth to t bit nKB' r fi rst child in August, x Lifeso[fiP ut a public opinion poll pub- nore proBjed Sunday in News of the World the snirMicated 34 percent of Britons sur- “Closci Ve[ed believe the 29-year-old du- the allic«e ss d° es not earn the $ 150,000 she ise a bit® her husband receive yearly from ig’sori. the government for royal duties, e audifrB'ber Royal Idleness,” the newspa- igto. ■’’s headline blared. “Freeloading Bgie is the most unpopular mem- Ibums rf^ er the royal family,” its story \ dill, said. il prodiifB itisasiffBThe newspaper said Market and it they on®™ 011 Research International Ltd. er WattB^d -’’Oi adults last week. No mar- ‘ forgoiiiB 0 ^ error was given, at; ntavbfBicws about Queen Elizabeth II r Rush.! fid her family sells newspapers in » r of a i Bmtain, and the duchess has suf- nanv ni(i* e( i her share of barbs since she flst was linked to Andrew more —■ Bn two years ago. hie guita: ‘ate and >ck solid lavs keybt :ord with nd Street | your kiri “e BobbyN rttzos Lard vill be \! ppearanti ive, orgat lie World 198? I change Texas mi tiion. Ht trope antl| ie met w 'oreign At first, the duchess was lauded for her breezy style and friendly, open manner. But she slowly be came a target, mainly for her healthy appetite, sometimes plump figure and fashion gaffes. After an official visit to California last March, even the serious newspa pers said Sarah and Andrew’s behav ior had been brash and vulgar, par ticularly her bold repartee with audiences. Criticism intensified last fall when she left her newborn baby, Princess Beatrice, at home with a nanny for six weeks while she went to Australia on official business and holidays. The attacks reached a crescendo last week when Sarah and Andrew went skiing at Klosters, Switzerland, where Maj. Hugh Lindsay, a close friend of the royal family, died last year in an avalanche that narrowly missed Prince Charles, heir to the throne. Critics considered the trip an ex cessive holiday and unseemly be cause it came only a year after the tragedy. The Daily Mirror, which branded Sarah “Duchess Dolittle,” said she sobbed after daily briefings by aides on the tabloid attacks. The Sunday Times of London, which usually does not focus on the private lives of the royal family, said the duchess was suffering from a general cooling in relations between the palace and the media. “Whether the activities of the du chess are an embarrassment and a disgrace or whether she is merely fulfilling a popular need for a bete noir in the nation’s most popular soap opera is debatable,” The Sun day Times said. Top Ten The Top Ten Best-selling records of the week based on Cashbox mag azine’s nationwide survey: L “Two Hearts,” Phil Collins 2. “Don’t Rush Me,” Taylor Dayne 3. “Armageddon It,” Def Lep pard 4. “I Remember Holding You,” Boys Club 5. “Put a Little Love in Your Heart,” Annie Lennox and AI Green 6. “Every Rose Has Its Thorn,” Poison 7. “Smooth Criminal,” Michael Jackson 8. “My Prerogative,” Bobby Brown 9. “Born to Be My Baby,” Bon Jovi 10. “When I’m With You,” Sheriff Country-Western Best-selling country- western records of the week based on Cashbox magazine’s na tionwide survey: 1. “Deeper Than the Holler,” Randy Travis 2. “All the Reasons Why,” Highway 101 3. “The Blue Side of Town,” Patty Loveless 4. “She’s Crazy for Leaving,” Rodney Crowell 5. “Early in the Morning and Late at Night,” Hank Williams Jr. 6. “(It’s Always Gonna Be) Someday,” Holly Dunn 7. “Hold on (a Little Longer),” Steve Wariner 8. “Let’s Get Started If We’re Gonna Break My Heart,” The Statler Brothers 9. “Burnin’ a Hole in My Heart,” Skip Ewing 10. “What I’d Say,” Earl Thomas Conley Two brothers’ habit of generosity, trust turns to fear after thugs rob, beat them MONTGOMERY, Vt. (AP) — Mike and Harry Dutchburn shared a life as predictable as January’s bliz zards and July’s blackberries. Awake by 4 a.m. and asleep by 9 p.m. Errands once a week: St. Al bans for parts, Newport for ferti lizer, John Deuso’s store at the cross roads for potatoes, hot dogs and bread. In a weather-beaten farmhouse on a lonely stretch of highway 10 miles from Canada, the brothers passed their evenings in unmatched armchairs in a kitchen papered with sailing ships and maps of the world. The wallpaper was hung by a sis ter years ago. Mike, 77, and Harry, 79, likely would have chosen pic tures of cows over maps of a world they’ve had precious little to do with, until it burst in on them one January night. Anyone in town can point out the urfers catch hot Texas waves tin winter waters at Galveston GALVESTON, Texas (AP) — Iks sea gulls careen overhead, tj)w-headed youths crouch atop lickly waxed surfboards, daring lie crashing ocean waves to [nock them into the water. On shore, teen-age girls ride owly by on bicycles, waving at eir water-bound compatriots as ey wheel passed neon-painted '^'^Bnlkswagen Bugs crowned with sc ^Beaming, silver surfboard racks. 986, theTB ^ unin l er in Malibu? Mack “B fry winter in Galveston, the Wot* ^ or t ^ e truly dedicated Texas Brier, this is the only time of the ii — tvear when surfing is worth it Jere. And even now the surfing >d exanif continues over whether Gulf Coast’s mediocre waves lie worth the trouble. “What can you say about surf- in Galveston? It’s inconsis- songH i tint,” 16-year-old David Howl- et forfn ai^ S3 y S without hesitation. “Like Bday, you can take a picture, he- song, Buse tomorrow there won’t be er such ; ail y wav es at all.” [ndon"ip Today, the waves looked like ng. J| la ^ e River whitewater. Boiling, an instrt foaming and crashing over each rood expiaher. Great for surfing — right? ibersskii* “This is really pretty bad,” 17- ilfe and Bar-old Houston surfer Joey ds and ? Yburra says. “Here you’ve got Beaker, breaker, breaker, all ot Safe' little ones. What you want are one i ds and or two clean breaks that go all the ie best son way through. “It’s really too rough out there right now.” Galveston winter brings the closest thing to real waves the area ever gets. Surfers say it’s due to the fact that Galveston is on the Gulf of Mexico, and not a “real ocean,” that the waves are so small. Though admittedly weak, win ter waves still are much stronger than the non-existent summer surf, and the Houston and Gal veston County youths in search of endless summer hit the beach in earnest when they time off from school. Bedecked in glistening black wetsuits to protect themselves from the 50-degree waves, they’re like frolicking seals dot ting the white water near the jet ties off Seawall Boulevard. “In the summer the only time you get waves is during a hurrica ne,” says Houstonian Howland. “During Gilbert if you went a little further west, there were some real waves.” The surfers stay between the seawall jetties because the rock walls block the strong Galveston current from sweeping the swim mers out to sea. Jetties also cause the waves to break better, the youth surfers point out knowl edgeably. “It breaks cleaner with the jet ties,” Yburra said. “Sometimes it’s even over your head.” This near-exaggeration results in an immediate argument with other surfers over whether or not Galveston’s shallow waves ever break over your head — but Yburra wins by pointing out that by the end of the jetty today the waves were high. That cleared up, the group of Houston surfers decides the best thing about Galveston surfing is the girls on the beach, and the worst thing is changing clothes by the trunk of the car — in front of God and everybody. League City surfer Scott Symes, 16, says the majority of the surfers are from Galveston and nearby cities — those are the few who really know that the se cret to Texas surfing is to do it in the off-season. Surfers are by no means a tightly knit group, either. Frac tured into those from different cities, they have few kind things to say about each other. “That’s what I love about surf ing here -— the wonderful, friendly surfers,” Howland says sarcastically. Still and all, they do agree win ter surfing beats studying or sit ting watching television — and besides ... Boss waves, dude! ■ Writer: paralyzing fall symbolizes his life, hakes him write ‘more believable’plays do have t presenli ier that ie to list® n isn’t® > mean® ckground ive up (*■ wsomep®AP) — As in most of Richard jrytheir Mndt’s plays, “Winterstorm” in- Bves a transition from one state of t 1 icing to another. ✓V |But unlike his previous works, he Isv B it is believable. gThe difference, says Arndt, was a Balyzing accident he suffered at ~ home in Flarrisburg and his sub- lequentjourney toward recovery. Bn April, Arndt fell 20 feet from a Be on the property he had just 1 felt intfioved to a day before. He injured a l° ss spinal cord and was paralyzed Tom the waist down. t, her i star scK ropped and re' ,( ! nic for)* 1 at her o' 11 ! fter two months at Elizabeth- Hospital and Rehabilitation Inter, Arndt says he was told the alysis was permanent, nwilling to accept the diagnosis, Jndt went to the Upledger Insti- lute in Florida, one of many facilities Bich treated Sean Lavery, a New hter. fytk City Ballet star who was left en," D#'Bh one paralyzed leg after surgery idies de*remove a tumor from his spinal relations! ; wd. e notoveBVrndt’s experience there helped liters) asB writing and changed his life iverly in'Ifaentally, spiritually, as well as if themsDhvsically,” he says. ■He says he believes he will some- nan togfly walk again, and that falling out [ill, she sB he tree was not just an accident, parate B’Emotionally, I was in a free-fall,” :h can IxB says. “Falling from the tree was a Jf-explorBysicalization of that emotional ition. Be. Tm actually, in a way, thankful emotionally, I was in a free-fall. Falling from the tree was a physicalization of that emotional state. I’m actually, in a way, thankful for the accident. It has really straightened me out.” — Richard Arndt writer for the accident. It has really straightened me out.” “Winterstorm” is scheduled to be premiered in May by the Open Stage of Harrisburg. His play, “Antiqui ties,” was produced off-Broadway by the Jean Cocteau Repertory. The company also presented a staged reading of another of his plays, “Na tives.” Arndt says he has always strived for a “poetry of existence” in his writing, but does so even more since the accident. “All of my plays deal with taking real people in real situations and transferring them into a poetic state of consciousness, or unconscious ness,” he says. The discovery of his own spiritua lity, Arndt says, has enabled him to make the transition in his plays from one state of being to another belie- Veable — something he was unable to do before the accident. At Upledger, Ardnt says he was told, “You’ll move your leg before you leave here, and you’ll climb a tree again if you so desire.” While there, he underwent an in tensive two-week program of cranio sacral therapy, which equates the brain to a hydraulic pump, pushing and pulling fluid up and down the spinal cord. After the accident, the fluid could not get past the point of injury on his spinal cord, Arndt says. His therapy focused on pushing the fluid beyond the injured area, opening the passa geway so that messages from his brain would reach his legs. Part of the therapy involved “get ting the mind behind the body in the healing process” through exercises such as creative visualization. In Arndt’s visualizations, his spi nal cord is like a tree trunk. At the point where the injury occurred, the trunk divides into roots. Some of the roots are clear, others are blocked and damaged. “My visualization is to push that fluid into every root of the tree and to make the tree grow,” he says. Before leaving the clinic, Arndt’s legs did move, but the movement was involuntary. Then, two months after he retuned home, Arndt says he began to get voluntary movement in his legs. Dutchburn place, with its blistered white paint and drawn shades. Surrounded by open fields, house and barn sit near the road on a curve that’s unexpectedly tricky. Mike and Harry have lost track of the cars they’ve pulled from the mud over the years, a habit of helpfulness that was to cost them. From their kitchen window, they can see their hillside birthplace, the only other home they’ve ever known. They still remember moving day, June 15, 1915, just as they do every journey away from home ever since: their brother’s funeral in Massachu setts in 1944; Mike’s trip to their sis ter’s in Michigan in 1960; the 65- mile drive with their niece, Sandra Lyon, to Burlington a year and a half ago. Harry hadn’t been there for 40 years. Except for pies and cookies from Grandma’s Bakery in Richford, the Dutchburns’ list of indulgences is shorter than the list of their trips: an aborted attempt at cigar-smoking in 1940 (Harry), and two chug-a- lugged bottles of gin in 1939 (Mike). “We don’t owe anybody,” says Mike. “We pay cash or we do with out. We go right along. That’s our way.” The Dutchburns’ ways — mod esty, hard work and thrift — were common knowledge on the frugal little farms of Franklin County. So was their habit of carrying large sums of cash. On the last day of January 1986, the ways of the world — violence, cruelty and greed — were brought home to the Dutchburns by two strangers who called them by name. They pretended to be out of gas. The Dutchburns didn’t have any, but Mike climbed out of his narrow iron bed in the middle of the night. By the time he’d walked the few steps to the kitchen, the two men had kicked in the door. “You shouldn’t be here,” Mike told them. He got hit in the face. Harry, who had $7,000 in his shirt pocket, walked in right behind him and got hit in the head with the thick maple cane he used to prod cows. Mike put up a fight, but it was over in less than five minutes. Af terward, Mike says, “the kitchen looked like you’d cut a bunch of hens’ heads off and let ’em fly.” Five minutes was all it took to teach two old men about fear. The fear never left them, not even after the robbers went to jail. “I don’t sleep anymore. I hear the cars all night. You don’t forget it,” says Mike. Dancers reaching for stardom (AP) — Around 4:30 on Friday af ternoons, seven youths stretch, twist, jump, sweat and complain. They whine about sore muscles and ex haustion. They beg for compassion and mercy. Seated close by with her hand near the play button of a cassette tape player. Dawn Givens listens re spectfully but unmoved. She knows all about the time, work and dedica tion it takes to make a successful dance troop. “It’s up to you,” she says with a shrug. “We’re not going to leave un til you get it right.” Over and over, the roles are played out until the dancers finally give a flawless routine that lives up to their name. Something Special. For 3.5 years, under the unrelent ing yet nurturing instruction of Givens, Something Special has been showing everything they’ve worked for while dancing without charge at nursing homes, talent shows and anywhere else folks are willing to watch. Something Special members are willing to endure all the sweat and hard work because they are moti vated by the overwhelming desire to dance, an to dance well. “I would like to make a career of it,” says a dancer named Delmar, one of the three original members still dancing. “I’d also like to be a computer programmer. You have to have something to fall back on.” The dancers unanimously agree that Givens is a taskmaster. “She works you real hard so she can get you where you want to go,” a dancer named Tracey says, “and that’s the top.” Givens, 29, moved to Lexington about four years ago. Before long, she discovered there was no outlet for her freestyle dance except at nightspots where the patrons were not appreciative of her hard work. While attending a rehearsal for the Little Mr. and Miss Black Lex ington Pageant, Givens noticed three girls who were using dance as their talent. She began working with them, and word of her abilities got around. Soon she was teaching dance to all comers. “At first the parents thought I was too hard on them,” Givens says. “We had a meeting, and I let them know that my situation was not going to change, and I asked them to stay out of it, to let the girls decide if they wanted to continue. “Now the parents are supportive.” The group hopes all their hard work will one day pay off with an in vitation to dance before an audience of millions on the syndicated tele vision program “Star Search.” The dream is not unrealistic. A similar group Givens taught in Chi cago several years ago did just that, winning twice before being elimi nated. “I see great futures for them if they just hang in there,” Givens says. “They’re a little impatient, but it won’t be long.”