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The Cougar, Vol. 4, No. 3, October 31, 1930
File 002
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The Cougar, Vol. 4, No. 3, October 31, 1930 - File 002. October 31, 1930. University of Houston Libraries. University of Houston Digital Library. Web. November 18, 2017. http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/10270243/item/231/show/228.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

(October 31, 1930). The Cougar, Vol. 4, No. 3, October 31, 1930 - File 002. Daily Cougar. University of Houston Libraries. Retrieved from http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/10270243/item/231/show/228

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

The Cougar, Vol. 4, No. 3, October 31, 1930 - File 002, October 31, 1930, Daily Cougar, University of Houston Libraries, accessed November 18, 2017, http://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/10270243/item/231/show/228.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

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Title The Cougar, Vol. 4, No. 3, October 31, 1930
Alternative Title The Cougar, Vol. IV, No. 3, October 31, 1930
Contributor
  • Nesmith, R. Willard
Date October 31, 1930
Language English
Description From masthead: "Cougar of The Houston Junior College, Houston, Texas. Established 1928."
Subject
  • College student newspapers and periodicals
  • University of Houston
Place
  • Houston, Texas
Genre
  • newspapers
Type
  • Text
Identifier LH1.H6 C6; OCLC: 10270243
Collection
  • University of Houston Libraries Special Collections
  • University of Houston Archives
Rights In Copyright - Copyright Owner Unlocatable or Unidentifiable: This item is protected by copyright. Copyright to this resource is held by the creator or current rights holder; however, for this item, either (a) no rights-holder(s) have been identified or (b) one or more rights-holder(s) have been identified but none have been located. Users assume full responsibility for any infringement of copyright or related rights.
Item Description
Title File 002
Transcript THE COUGAR COUGAR Of Th, mston mior Coll Houston, Texas Established 19Z8 Publishd semi-month'.y during the college year. Subscription $1.00 per year. Single copies 10 cents. EDITORIAL STAFF Editor-in-Chief R. Willard Nesmith Issue Editor Maurine Keach Literary Editor Dorothy McGraw Feature Writer Zelda Osborne Sports Reporter Martin Lowe Alumni Editor Margaret Boyett Humor Editor _...Genevieve Weldon Intercollegiate and Exchange Editor Feme Sweeney Faculty Advisor Fred R. Birney BUSINESS STAFF Managing Editor....Everett H. Kendall Circulation Manager Harry Seaman 'trculation Assistants- Jane Wltherspoon and Derward McConnell Advertising Representatives— Kenenth C. Phillips, Maxwell Ludtke, Maurine Edminster REPORTERS Pauline Ault, Frances Baty, Opal Beane, Lucille Cafcalas, Evelyn Cochran, Milton Cohen, Gordon Davis, Ruth Dermody, Lois Duff, Chapell Freeman, Beatrice Hamilton, Lois Harrison, Scott Hild, Montford Inman, A. C. Irwin, Fay Laurence, Ethel Mercer, Llewellyn Ross, Ruhye Tun- nell, Harold Wood. These Terrible Young People "Vice, if we may believe the general complaint, ripens so fast nowadays, and runs up to seed so early In young people, that it is impossible to keep a lad from the spreading tagion, if you will venture him abroad in the herd, and trust him to chance or to his own inclination for the choice of his company at school.' Sounds like the babbling of some pessimist of the generation to which our parents belong, does it not? But no, It is the remark of John Locke. He wrote not of the present generation of bobbed-haired, cigarette-smoking flappers and flask-toting cake-eaters whose manners and morals it is fashionable now to deplore, but of the favored, pampered English vouth of 1692. Two hundred and, thirty-eight years seem not to have diminished the pleasure which grown persons experience In berating the oncoming gener- Like so many of our present day critics, however, John Locke did not feel any serious concern over tbe younger generation. For the wise old philosopher had the wit to realize in even that remote time that children do not create the conditions in which Ihey are reared. The truth of the matter Is that tbe ihildren of every age imitate their ilders If the ways of the young have changed it is because tbe elders them- slves have created a new mode of life and themselves adopted new habits. The pocket flask is not an invention of young people nor is the bootlegging business in the hands of infants. No more are the loose manners and morals of our time a product of juvenile philosophy. We believe and practice what we are taught. We believe in a different age; life has undergone a revolution since 1900. Wealth and luxury have- In creased with miraculous rapidity. At the same time the code of approved morals has itself been altered. Life was harder and more limited a generation ago. Electricity, the auto- I mobile, and the marvelous develop-j ment of the Machine Age have made the diferrenece. We are children of tho Machine Age. We can not be blamed for being I born in an age which does not need to wring toil from human hands. We are not to be censured if our parents provide automobiles and money to satisfy our momentary desires. We take the things of lifer as we find them. We have accepted the code which our elders have provided. The right to self-expression has been preached by novelists and philosophers. Increased wealth has made practicable the application of these new teachings. The marriage and divorce evil that has been thrown upon us by our forbears is an example. Marriage has been made to look like only a trial, a A NIGHT OF TERROR A Hallowe'en Story BY EVERETT KENDALL (Prepared in Journalism 213 Class) Decidedly handsome is BERT FREIDBERG, and is every whit a man's man—(or is it a ladies' man?) Petite NEWLYN TURNER, coyly vamping every one's fellow. Big things often come in small packages. At this po'nt we will "pay our tributes" to JOHN MARASEK and "FROG" MARZIZA. They do not play fast and loose; in other words, slow but sure. A countenance which beautifully expresses a deep interest in all collegiate activities belongs to none other than our vigorous "Frosh" president, WARREN LEMMON. ;—4—6—8—etc.", quoth 111' winsome DOT LASKY as she was requested (?) to count accurately all the planks that composed the per adjoining Camp Casa Del Mar for being considered "the laziest freshman" In the Pep Club. Find 'em. fool 'em. and forget 'em, is CLIFFORD WHITEHEAD'S motto. A good one, considering tbe source. In pink of perfection is VANDALIA MAE NECCO (with apologies to Richard Hudnut). But she knows the art. Witty and clever Is A-l Freshman FRED AEBI who has the gift of clothing his opinions in piquant dress. "Why, come to think i Hallowe'en. The scene out there cer tainly Is in keeping with the spirit of the occasion," I remarked, idly, to a tall, gaunt, scholarly-looking man who sat near me. He leaned toward the window, gazed Intently at the Hying landscape for a few moments, then said: "As long as I live I'll never forget a frightful experience I had one Hallowe'en in country that looked just like this." I thought I saw a slyly humorous expression momentarily cross his face: it may have been a wisp of ctgar smoke that caused tbe impression. "It was about 15 years ago," the scholarly looking man began, when my friend. Dr. J. Q. Stanley, suggested that we make a trip to a lonely spont near the Canadian border he could carry on certain scientific exepriments and I could finish writing my masters' thesis. 'We could not find a better place for our friend told me. "There are two comfortable, one-room cabins up there; we can work there as long as we please without interruption, and without disturbing each other." this is I "And at night there are fireflies, And the yellow moon. And in the ghostly palm trees The sleepy tune Of a quiet voice calling me The long, lowcroon Abruptly, the song ended in the middle of a line. As I look back on that night now, it seems to me that tbe last word o fhte song was a sort of choking gasp. But I was so intent on. my writing that the meaning of that strange sound escaped me. I remember, however, that I was vaguely aware of a growing sense of unrest, —a feeling of chill fear that caused my scalp to tingle. I drew my coat tighter about me. Suddenly, Stanley's light went out. I thought I heard breaking glass. "What/s wrong,, Stanley?" I called out. There was no answer. The dark forest echoed back my voice. There was no other sound save the sigh'ng of the night wind through the pines, and the wash of the waves on the shore at the foot of the cliff. "Strange, he doesn't answer," I thoughts "Perhaps he's had an acci- thought." Perhaps hes had an accident wtib his test tnbest and is busy see over the week- Who should w end who were Texas game and the "lades of their choice," GENEVIEVE WELDON and MACRINE EDMINSTER,—but those inimitable inseparables, HOWARD BRANCH and TERRY RUSS. "So my proud beauty, you would repulse me, eh?" barked BOBBY MCCULLOUGH, as he nonchalantly lit a Murad.—(Paid advertisement). Whole-heartedly JACK THURMAN agrees that he is noble of mind and (Continued on page 4) Dr. Stanley had gained considi.. able fame because of his investiga- cleaning up his work table, tion into the cause of crime and in- The]l tnere came ft £aim rusUe in sanity; and during the progress of the d s ^^ imQer wjn. his research he had actually lived , dow ,<Ia t]m ^ stanleyr , asked. lnd .There was silence. 1 stopped writing, and turned my eyes toward the with criminals, insane other social misfits, and had visited jails, penitentiaries and asylums. "I consider any risk worthwhile, if it will enable me to benefit the race," the doctor had remarked to me that fall as we traveled in a rickety automobile up the winding forest trail that led to our secluded retreat In the north woods where we were to work. Our nearest contact with the outside world was a small mountain village about 35 miles form our cabins. We were soon comfortably located to see the Rice- | in our cabins which we found were momentary thrill, a bizarre theory. Preference controed our teachers and we of the younger generation observe this and use it as a precedent. This is not a melancholy view intended to stir up the minds of our clan, but is really a typical characterization of the mental attitude of the younger generation presented to show th unfairness of the light in which we are held. Tbe generation from which we are descended can at least do better than to the dark stories of our extravagances and follies. John Locke was all for going but and meeting us on our own ground. That's not a bad idea now. The civilization which has been provided for us is certainly difficult enough at best. A little friendly understanding between the two generations will do no harm. And, too, it might remove some dangerous illusions. The truth is that in every age children are what their gneration makes them. The human race learns chiefly by imitation. When fathers and mothers patronize bootleggers, sons and daughters se little evil in the pocket flasks. Youth is conservative. Youth observes and listens and, despite the tumult of its new strength, it is inclined to believe what the old folks say. Wouldn't it be Just as well to give a little more thought to the behavior of the elder genration? If our example were better, our words might be more convincing. For too often it Is true that what we are speaks so loudly that our neighbors can not hear what we say. surrounded by heavy pine timber. About 100 yards to the northward from them, the ground broke off sharply at a cliff, dropping from that point almost straight down 300 feet to the rocky shore of a mountain lake. From the brow of this cliff we had an Inspiring view of the lake whose clear waters reflected the surrounding forest and mountain peaks. The doctor had taken his test tubes, specimen jar3, reference books and other equipment to his cabin which was located about 50 yards from mine. We were to take our meals together in my cabin, while the rest of the time we would spend at work in our separate cabins,—ideal conditions for the highly concentrated now mental labors we had planned. Very soon we became so absorbed in our work that we often missed our meals and at times we would work an entire night through without stopping. We did not take the time to cut our hair or shave; within a few weeks we began to look like a couple of cave men. Then came the Hallowe'en, I mentioned before, with its frightful experience. On that Hallowe'en night I had been so busy that I took no notice of the passing hours. Since the n'gbt was unusually warm for that season of the year, I sat writing at a small table near my cabin window, which I had thrown wide open. Stan- been equally busy. I bad not talked to him since our early morning breakfast, at which time he had remarked that he expected some Important results, and for this reason he might work continuously until the following morning. I gave his words little thought at the time: they came back to me later, poignently. I could hear the steady wash of the aves against the rocky shore as I sat writing at my window that night. Through the gloom of the forest I could see the dim lightof a kerosene lamp in Stanley's window, and at frequent intervals his form was silhouetted against the light as he moved about his room. It was his habit, when he was most intent on his work, to sing; and I could hear his voice softly crooning his favorite melody— the song of the trade wind: dow which framed the blackness of the night outside. Something about that black void held my gaze as if by a spell. Then I saw it. Sliding slowly up over my window sill, there came a clutching, claw-like hand. Before I could rise from my chair, something leaped out of the night through my window, scurried across the floor, and then erouehed in the shadows at the far corner of my dimply lit room. The only weapon within my reach was a walking stick which I leaned against the table back of me. The creature began slowly creeping along the further wall of the room, never once taking those horrible eyes from my face. Evidently, It. was trying to set behind me. Turning to face it, I reached behind me for my walking stick. My groping hands struck the lamp chimney. There was a crash of glass, and the room was swallowed up in inky darkness. Instantly the creature was upon me. Clutching hands reached for my throat. I felt the hot breath and fcam from those slavering jaws upon my face. In a frenzy or fear, I fought. I stumbled and fell. Th thing wai upon me, crushing me. Desperately, I struggled for breath, but I was no match for those gorilla-like arms. 1 felt my sense leaving me. Then with a shriek, the creature released me, leaped through the window, and—just as I lapsed into Unconsciousness — I heard it go crashing through the undergrowth in the direction of the cliff. For hours, I must have lain unconscious upon the cabin floor. When I 'finally opened my eyes, I saw the sun rising over the feathery tops of the pines. As its warm beams came through my window, the affair of the night seemed like a horrible dream; yet there were the evidences of the struggle. My throat was lascerated: my clothes were ripped to shreds. Painfully I got to my feet. Under my bunk I found my suitcase, opened It, and took from it my automatic pistol. What secrets those dark woods held, I knew not; hut I was determined to be prepared for anything that might happen in this strange land. Stiff and lame, I made my way to the brow of the cliff and looked down. There, directly below me, crushed among the rocks at the edge of the lake, lay the body of my assailant, its limbs sprawling about grotesquely. Descending to the lake shore by a roundabout path through the brush, 1 clambered over the rocks to where the body lay. I looked at it and started in dismay. It could not be . . . yes . . . the clothing was familiar. I leaned over closely, examining the features. Hardly believing my eyes, WARREN LEMMON PRESIDENT OF FRESHMAN CLASS Warren Lemmon, pres'dent of the freshman class, has been untiring in his efforts to make a bigger and better class than ever before. He is a graduate cf M lby Senior High School and held many responsible positions there last year. I saw that it was, indeed, the body of Dr. Stanley. Yet, what a change! The body appeared shrunken, shivel- ed as if by a long wasting illness. Even in death, the face still held the expression of mad ferocity I had seen the night before, a madness so terrible that—had it not been for the familiar clothes—I would have hardly recognized him. My mind began to grope for a solution. What had happened to my friend? Shocked almost beyond the point of reasoning, I clambered back up the steep pathway and entered Stanley s cabin. There I found a scene of wild disorder. The room was littered with broken glass, and the leaves of books that had been ripped from their bindings. Stooping, I picked up a sheet of paper upon which I found, in Stanley's familiar handwriting, these words: "I have made my discovery. I have found the bacillus that causes crime and madness in mankind. A skeptical world will not believe without absolute proof, therefore I have innoculated myself w.th the germ. In case of my death or disappearance, full data concerning my discovery will be found in my wall cabinet. The world can no longer doubt ... my ... " The last words of the message were mere scrawling lines, as if written by one who was struggling, vainly, for self control. Mechanically, 1 turned to the wall cabinet, but I found that it had been ripped from Its moorings as if by a mighty hand. Among the debris scattered about the cabin, I searched for the cabinet, hut found only a few blackened nails and charred bits of wood in the dead ashes of the fire place. True to his theory, Dr. Stanley, or, rather, the thing that had been Dr. Stanley—bad destroyd that which he most cherished. As the speaker ended his story, theer was silence for a few moments .in the smoking compartment. The listenrs started nervously, then looked sheepish, when a porter suddenly thrust his head In tbe doorway to announce: "We's gettin' into Ogden where we change engines. Does any of yo' gemmun want to get out and stretch yo' laigs?" The fat traveling salesman arose, lighted a cigar, and as he strode down the aisle I heard him mutter: "I reckon it might have happened, at that. Still ... I dunno." TAKEN FOR A RIDE his ship swings house): Ahoy! Lost ballconist low over a fa Where am 1? Farmer: Heb! Hell! Can't fool You're up there in that fool ba! Giddap, Bess. Rastus: Y big boy, an1 words! Mose: Chicken cults, watuhntelon say ything to me, make yon eat yo' mpl'n', hot bis
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