The Battalion
LIFESTYLES
Thursday, November 2,1989
Lifestyles Editor Dean Sueltenfuss 8451
Aggie war hero’s past questioned
Photo by Jay fanner
This plaque honoring Daniel Edwards hangs In the north
hall of the Memorial Student Center.
Medal of Honor winner may not have attended A&]
By Katsy Pittman
Of The Battalion Staff
Hanging in the north hall of the MSC is a
plaque commemorating Daniel R. Edwards, the
famed World War I war hero who died in 1967.
Awarded the Presidential Medal of Honor and
the Distinguished Service Cross, Edwards is
hailed as one of the greatest war heroes ever to
have attended A&M.
But some people think he might not be an Ag
gie after all.
In the early 1920s, after he had received his
awards, Edwards told several newspapers that he
was a former student (and Aggie quarterback
and third baseman).
His reputed attendance was furthered with the
book, “This Side of Hell,” which detailed his life
experiences and was written by Lowell Thomas.
In it, Edwards claimed he became an Aggie when
he came across an A&M football game, jumped
in and won it for the Ags (although he had never
seen a football game before).
Or so the story goes.
Eight years after he supposedly left A&M, Ed
wards, while fighting in France during World
War I, made the mistake of crawling into a
trench occupied by eight German soldiers.
According to the book, he had shot four of the
Germans on sight when a shell exploded, trap
ping his arm in the trench wall. He cut off the
arm with his machete while holding the other
Germans prisoner. He then marched them off to
the American camp (he made a German carry his
arm back) and only was slightly delayed by an
other shell explosion, which shattered his leg.
Or so the story goes.
The legend of Edwards didn’t even surface
around College Station until 1973, when John A.
Adams Jr. wrote the book, “We Are the Aggies,”
which included the tale of Edwards.
Not wanting to neglect one of World War I’s
most decorated heroes (albeit 50 years late), the
Association of Former Students soon put up the
plaque in the MSC.
It seems no one questioned Edwards’ story un
til 1986. It was well known that most of A&M’s
school records had burned in 1912, and there
had been no reason to doubt Edwards.
However, in 1986, A&M’s archivists Charles
Schultz and David Chapman were asked by a
school official to confirm Edwards’ birthday.
And that’s when his scholastic past started
looking pretty debatable.
Because there were many documents that had
survived the fire, Schultz and Chapman had sev
eral sources to go to.
First, there is no mention of Edwards’ name in
the annual school catalog. (At that time, A&M
was small enough to encompass all the students’
names in just a lew pages.)
His name also was absent from the alumni di
rectory. And from the books of A&M sports fig
ures. And f rom the school yearbook.
Incidentally, said Schultz, the absence of any
f iictures meant that a “likely” picture was chosen
rom a yearbook and the drawing for Edwards’
plaque was made from that.
Richard “Buck” Weirus, Executive Director of
the Association of Former Students from 1964 to
1979, was involved in creating the plaque that
honored Edwards. In a telephone interview
Tuesday, Weirus was asked about the origin of
the picture from which the plaque was made. He
responded brusquely.
“You’re going to find out the truth and 1 don’t
want you to know it,” Weirus said.
He then said there were no pictures or records
available when the plague was made. Weirus said
he and Adams just relied on descriptions of Ed
wards given by former acquaintances.
Of course, it’s possible that Edwards missed
enrollment day and picture day, and that as quar
terback and third baseman of the Aggie team,
was too modest to be mentioned in the sports
pages. And old records from 1909 and 1910 (the
years Edwards claimed to be here) could l>e kind
of shaky.
But Schultz and Chapman went one step fur
ther. They checked his birth records. And the
1910 U.S. Census records show Edwards was
born in 1898 — 10 years later than he had
claimed.
Which would make him 11 years old when he
enrolled at A&M.
Granted, child prodigies abounded then. Ed
wards also was reputed to have been big for his
age.
But quarterback of the football team and third
baseman on the baseball team? Edwards v-
have had to have been REAL big.
And the story continues.
In a documented 1920 U.S. court hearini
the Committee on Education, Edwards dan
he went to Baylor University, not Texas Ato!
Baylor officials wouldn’t mind pronoun
him an alum, either.
"We would love to claim him as oneofot:
we could,” said Fhomas Turner, an officii
Baylor’s public relations office. “Unfortuna
at this point we cannot.”
Turner believed Edwards played a fewd
for the Baylor football team. It was then cone
to have unofficial players on the team.
"Unfortunately, that’s why we lostourtii!
1915 Southwest Conference Champions,”1;!
laughed. “They found out that our quarter 1 ^
was married with kids in Arkansas.”
So what do A&M officials have tosayabom
Adams, who also is president of the A&M(J
ter for International Studies Advisory Bo?
said he doesn’t believe Edwards should be
bunked. He said that the burned records
transcripts and the theory that Edwards we:
school under an assumed name make itunwis
disclaim Edwards’ attendance.
“I have never found that he didn't go be^
Adams said.
But an of ficial at the Association of For
Students, who spoke on the condition of?
nymity, admitted there are doubts about!i
wards’ attendance at A&M.
“We never could iron-cladly prove that:
wards went here,” the official said. “Thews
thing was so far back — there’s no w'aytorti
tell for sure.”
Edwards is listed in the Association of Fora
Students’ records as class of 1912. However
rissv Simmons, a computer records assistant .
his name wasn’t entered until 1984, and the'
no other information about him.
“To tell you the truth,” Simmons said, “Id:
know why they entered his name in 1984,e
cially if hediea in 1967.”
Chapman said quite a few A&M officialsb:
about Edwards’ questionable academic past
“It’s like an old drinking game now,” ft
man said. “You can go to functions and some
See Edwards/Page 10
Friendship may be best love of all
I really had trouble writing this
column — I couldn’t decide on a
topic to save my skinny neck. I
played around with narratives about
childhood Halloween memories, the
barren Bryan-College Station radio
market, the commercialization of
Christmas and what the ’90s music
scene may turn out to be.
I was really surprised to have
trouble writing — it seems to come
naturally to me. I have never had
such a tedious time trying to come
up with something to write about —
especially something that is just sup
posed to be my opinion.
In any case, the ideas wouldn’t
come — until Tuesday night. My
topic, this topic, hit me directly in
the face like the colors I see in the
sunsets I love so much.
And to be honest, I am a little em
barrassed that I didn’t realize what
this column had to be about: love
and guardian angels.
You see, all my life I’ve wanted to
know what true love feels like. Well,
it didn’t happen until this summer
— I fell in love and I fell hard. I have
never known such a feeling — a state
Chuck
Lovejoy
Assistant
Lifestyles
Editor
of mind that is ecstasy, pain, confu
sion and wonderment all at the same
time. And I must say, it was worth
the wait.
And I have my guardian angel to
thank for letting me feel that way.
He (she?) has always helped out just
when I needed it most: the death of
my grandfather, the stress and ten
sion of my senior year of high school
and the horrifying move to college.
My guardian angel has always
been around, and I’m sure always
will be. I am certain he/she is with
me now because: 1) I was able to
write this column, 2) I was able to
write this column without exploding
into tears and 3) I was able to write
this column with my heart — not my
hand.
This summer was the most special
time I’ve had thus far in my life: I
had my first serious relationship
(and fell in love), I made many new
friends and I learned to like and ac
cept myself and all my faults.
This summer was so special I still
have trouble looking forward be
cause sometimes I’m too busy
looking backward: I had to Q-drop a
class because I was too lazy to keep
up, I am now failing Spanish and
I’ve rather neglected my duties here
at The Batt.
But now I know what the confu
sion was all about — a sweet little
inspiration came to me Tuesday
night (Wednesday morning, actu
ally). All this time I have been con
fused about love. I thought the ob
ject of my reminiscing was romantic
love. But I now see that this summer
served an even greater purpose than
I had originally thought: I found an-
Pylon returns to music scene
as successful R.E.M. opener
By John Righter
Of The Battalion Staff
In the age of dinosaur tours and
futile reunions, its nice to find one
prehistoric animal who hasn’t
evolved into a gross mutation of its
former self.
Five years after the band called it
quits, Athen’s Pylon has reformed
and hit the road, frantically touring
in hope of securing a second record
deal. Of course, it has helped that
R.E.M., Pylon’s self-proclaimed big
gest fans, has taken the group under
its wings for an extensive tour. The
tour’s itinerary, which focuses on
places R.E.M. missed during its first
leg, has exposed Pylon to audiences
it never played in front of during its
five-year run from ’79-’84.
“In this short tour we’re going to
be exposed to more people than we
would have been in a whole year’s
worth of touring clubs by ourselves,”
explains Pylon drummer Curtis
Crowe, during an interview before
Sunday’s performance with R.E.M.
at G. Rollie White Coliseum. “Of
course the trade off is we’re playing
for their crowd.”
That trade off didn’t seem to take
place Sunday night as the still arriv
ing audience immediately warmed
to Pylon’s tight rhythms and lead
singer Vanessa Briscoe’s stage antics.
Five years of Pylon inactivity are
best documented in the form of
Briscoe’s full-bodied expansion. The
never-slim vocalist has ballooned
into a hefty version of Mama Cass,
miraculously still retaining the resil
ience and drive that had her shak
ing, hip-swaying and jumping for
the entire 30-minute set.
With the first vocal part of “Cra
zy” (A song Crowe says Pylon is try-
R . E.M. just worked a
hell of a lot harder than we
did, and took (their music)
a lot more seriously.”
— Curtis Crowe,
Pylon drummer
ing to win back from R.E.M., who
covered it on Dead Letter Office.)
Briscoe screamed, shook, and
pounced, exciting the unprepared
audience out of their doldrums and
into the spectacle of Briscoe’s tremu
lant mass.
Unfortunately, to many it wasn’t
the energy and effort that received
the deserving applause, but the spec
tacle, turning Pylon’s terrific set into
a trivial freak show. But being that it
came from a school known for its
bleacher-bum mentality, it probably
didn’t offend anyone else.
“Crazy” began the eight-song set
that tore through new as well as old
originals, featuring the road-run-
nerish “Beep,” fresh from video re
lease, and ending with the thematic
“Stop It.”
Crowe, a real athlete, pummeled
his drum set, combining with Mi
chael Lachowski’s hammering bass
lines to provide a raw, yet tight plat
form for Briscoe’s uneven vocals.
Returning after five years to good
reviews and intrigued listeners, Py
lon appears to have secured a second
shot at the music world. From a
band who was once considered the
cream of Athen’s amazing crop of
underground acts, you would expect
to find a feeling of regret for having
quit in ’84, but not so says Crowe.
“No, they’re no regrets (for me.) I
see all the stuff they’ve had to do,
and the popularity that’s resulted,
and I realize that their success is not
all great. It isn’t something I would
turn down, but there’s a lot of re
sponsibility that goes with it.
“R.E.M. just worked a hell of a lot
harder than we did, and took (their
music) a lot more seriously. They de
serve where they’re at . . . but this
time we’re also serious about what
we’re doing.”
other very different and very beauti
ful type of love — the love shared
between friends.
This summer started off with ole
Chuck (that’s me) pretty much bur
ied in the dumps. Last spring I made
a close group of friends, then was
left alone to go to summer school. I
have never felt so lonely and afraid
as the first few weeks of summer.
And then, my guardian angel
pushed my destiny across those of
two very fine people who I am now
proud to publicly declare, in this
newspaper, are true friends.
I have never met two people like
the two I speak of — loving, funny,
caring and at the same time com
pletely understanding and accepting
of all my quirks.
They, too, are guardian angels in
a way — always checking on my
mood (which is known for some vio
lent swinging); wanting to share
their feelings, desires and dreams
and asking about mine; and provid
ing support and advice to help me
realize those wishes.
And perhaps the greatest thing
about my involvement with these
two beautiful ladies is that they have
helped me to find another kind of
love: a love of myself.
These two kinds of love seem
somehow deeper than romantic love
and love of family. My family and
first love will never lose their impor
tance — I don’t mean to imply any
lessening of those in any sense (even
though my first love is now just a
good friend):
It’s just that these two new kinds
of love seem more special. I have
never really loved myself much, but
the two women I refer to have made
me realize that I am a good person
— not perfect, not anything more
than anyone else —just good.
And the love of friends seems the
most special of all — being able to
feel so powerfully about people with
whom you have no real ties — physi
cal or biological — only bonds of
common experiences and dream-
ings. Friends are friends because
they want to be, and no other rea
son.
My finding of these two new kinds
of love has proven to me that there is
magic in the world — and it is shin
ing like sunrays streaming through a
pitch raincloud.
You see, I have my first two really
close friends. Not that I consider my
other friendships unequal to these
newer ones. Those are equally im
portant to me — I just didn’t open
my eyes and heart enough to see just
how special they really are.
And for that, I apologize to those
of you who fit in that latter category.
I realize, now, how important
friends are — I’m sorry I didn’t be
fore. And I promise to try my dam
nedest to be a better friend to you.
And to Melissa and Ellen — my
two earthly guardian angels — I
have one more thing to say: I love
you.
Pianist Thomas performs
diverse show in Rudder
Photo by Fredrick D. ft
Michael Tilson Thomas
By Todd Stone
Of The Battalion Staff
Pianist Michael Tilson Thomas
deftly performed a thoughtful
and diverse program of music last
night in Rudder Auditorium as
part of the 1989-90 MSC OPAS
series.
A near-capacity audience en
joyed Thomas’s interpretive per
formances of compositions by
Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach,
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Aa
ron Copland and Modest Mus
sorgsky.
In an unusual beginning to the
show, Thomas informally spoke
with the audience about Carl
Bach, the second oldest son of Jo
hann Sebastian Bach.
“Carl Bach established all the
rules of grammar in musical lan
guage,” Tilson Thomas said. “As
Bach established the rules of
grammar, Mozart established all
the rules of context in music.”
The four Carl Bach pieces
Thomas recited (Fantasia in C-
Minor, Rondo in C-Minor,
Adagio in A-flat Major and
Rondo in C-Major) were an alter
nating blend of choppy- and
jagged-paced rhythms with soft
melodic notes.
The Bach pieces were followed
by Piano Sonata in f-Major I
Mozart. This piece was a thref
3art composition with a melod
list movement, a slower intt
spective movement and a flasH
and powerful ending.
Tilson Fhomas then switch
from the classical composer:
Bach and Mozart, to a 20th cen
tury composer, Copland. Tils:
Thomas performed Copland's?
ano Variations, which is a dril
rnatic piece of music with har
and abrupt rhythms, alternate
with softer melodies.
After an intermission, he p®
formed the multi-movemer
piece. Pictures at an Exhibition?
Mussorgsky. “Pictures” is d
inspiration of Mussorgsky i?
compose a group of piano piece
that reflect the paintings of?
friend, Victor Hartman.
The highlights to “Picture!:
were “The Gnome,” a movemer
with low-chopping notes that del
scribe a grotesque creature, art
“Promenade,” a great melod?
piece that reflects a person expel
riencing the pictures.
For an encore, Tilson Thonrt •
played Short Story and Noveleti
in G by George Gershwin. H
ended his amazing performart
with a rousing rendition of t?j
“Batman” theme, which dr®
laughs and cheers from tl'l
crowd.
^ n