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UBC Publications

The Ubyssey Mar 26, 1954

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 Wither.-^ JHot and• tow
snatcbe^of hailrslwt, wow
Ve abd sunshine.
Tides — In and out. '
ilevatdrt«~ Up and Down.
How's things — So and so.
VANCOUVER, BRITISH COLUMBIA, FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1954
FINAL iririrC
Town Terrorized
By UBC Hoodlums
'Son' Team Flies
To Tragedy Scene;
Saves 'Son' Carrier
By MACK (RAYNOLDS)
A Vancouver Son reporter-
photographer team and Pacific
Western Airlines (no relation to
TCA) Joined forces Thursday to
bring Son readers today's outstanding coverage of the struggle
for survival of little Willie Her-
noid, who had inadvertently
flushed himself down the toilet
at his Burnaby home.
Sparing no expense, the Son
chartered a PWA plane to speed
two reporters and a Son photographer to Burnaby to meet the
hardy   adventurer  and   provide
the complete pictorial and writ- agement    was    somewhat    dis-
Riotous   Revellers   From
UBC Rapped For Rumpus
By CON STUFF REPORTER
Another instance of flagrant UBC hoodlumism occured
early today when J. Newton McSlurp, a third year Arts student,
deliberately violated Vancouver's laws by parking illegally
on Robson Street. _
This wasn't the first time that ^_-_—_—___-_-_-■-_-—--
UBC hoodlums had run afoul of
tiie law in this city. Last fall approximately 5,000 of the young
hoodlms invaded the peaceful
American city of Bellingham and
levelled the Leopold Hotel to the
ground.
The young hoodlums, who
should have been home studying, or at least engaged in harmful skiing on Grouse Mountain,
turned on fire hoses, smashed
lamps, throttled the manager and
raped all the laundry maids.
HOODLUMS
Needless to say, the hotel man
AMAZING COINCIDENCE was caught by on-the-spot Vancouver Son photographer Roy LeBlink who snaped this amazing shot while on the way to a Mount Pleasant Twong Pouch
Weaving Club assignment. Photog LeBlink, in one of the
unbelievably concidental shots of photographic history, JUST
HAPPENED to catch this portly young co-ed as she lifts the
totem pole from the Brock lawn (the snitch).
Ruthless
Run Case
Hit And
Messy'
By SIMMER HOT
There is a messy, sopping, tear-soaked scene today at the
home of Maximillian XXVI, 1984 W. 98th Ave.
Max, a Mexican chihuahua, yesterday saw his little mistress
ten details of the ordeal
The Son was the first to tell
readers of the horrible conditions little Hernoid labored under.
When the Son team, (at the Son's
expense) reached the scene, Wil- > the   young   hoodlums   had   the
lie (a Son paper boy) was going temerity   to  attack   one  of  the
under for the third time. honored professions upon which j
,    , .    .    all    Vancouver's    tradition     is*
Pausing only long enough to based—the law enforcement, of-;
take several dozen plx and sec   flcers of Police Chief w H (got
ure a Son tape-recording if Wil- an Irish Sweepstake ticket?) Mul-1
lies dying moan's the Son ex-:i|g{m {
pense-paid team pulled the child j HOODLUMS
to safety. |    Theyoung hooligans, who train '
The   Son   reporters   and   Son for »u?h "typeof hand-to-hand
photographers, in a Son car with f,ontact wi}^„st»ndin| Z a. i?!;
a Son police escort, rushed the »ine;l!P-   attacked   and   brutally
story and pix back to the Son ;^at two of our officers (without,
building   immediately   Just   for; %dr°rcflcX    ™>■       Saturdav|
the enjoyment, of Son readers,    j J^oCareTalfed StolhS!
Incidently Willie died just be-1 Commodore   Cabaret   on   Gran-
fore the Son team left him to ville Street to subdue more of i
APOLOGY
The Vancouver Son Thursday inadvertently imputed
doubts as to the sobriety of
one Frederick Fume in a news
story about an accident at
City Hall.
The Son begs the forgiveness of the offended person
and earnestly hopes that no
damage has been done his good
name. The Son in no way
meant to imply that Fume was
even slightly intoxicated to
any degree whatsoever. If this
Earlier • in  the  year more  of.   impression was received, The
Son hereby apologizes.
pleased.
Not content with this, the UBC
hoodlums burned the Blaine customs office to the ground on
their return to Vancouver.
tush back to the Son building.
However it was discovered later
by the Son Morgue that he was
these   young   university   punks'
who are continually getting into
trouble and giving a bad name'
, ,   , ..ii, »».«». ,     ,   ,,,   , ' descended from aristrocracy so; to The Ubyssey, UBC's almost
chopped down ruthlessly by a Morris Minor as she hobbled j Son   readers  may  rest  content sickenly   clean   campus   newv
- across Granville St. at 97th Ave. that it was aRoyarFlush. Paper:._            __„!_
on   her  specially-built   prefabri-| _^n>"*     k A I I" f\     __.
cated   crutches,   shortly   before; Q_,lJv#     fWOIlOPOly     rOrCOS    VjUl
Son' Brings
Fortune To
Poor   Widow
midnight. |
Little Haemophelia, 19, a mid-j
get, was the only mistress Max;
Suppressed Competitors
We would like to assure all
Son readers that Frederick
Fume was sober all day Thursday.
Son' Steno
Holidays
At Flats
By BORA MYLE
It's a mighty leap from the
boss's lap to the enchanting,
exotic splendour of the Flats,
but thanks to the Vancouver
Son, I finally made it.
I didn't know what to think
when Heemie—the little dear—
told me. We were just sitting
there in thc office while he was
had ever known, and Max loved;        -ft-e Vancouver Son learned today that the Canadian Broad- j dictating "a"few:Tetters7when all
his  little  mistress,  even   if she -,    .    ..      ,       „   . „„„i.,«,;.,„ -;-u*_ «.„ „n Vw Ana of a sudden he said, "Well, Bora,
did kick him in the chops when corP!n8 Castration has secured exclusive nghts to all hot-dog ; time hfla ^   l thinR {
stands lor this summer s British Empire Games. should do a little something for
CBC, this country's state-owned radio network (hiss), thus  you."
.     '-.    I said, "What could you mean
Kisky?"
"I've decided you need a lioli
adds    the    hot-dog    concession   ,
chops
Mrs. Camelia Slutchkept. 4437 he licked her puffy cheeks. He
Catwood, picked up the Son on is wasting from sheer loneliness
Thursday   and   discovered   that into a shadow of his former self.
she had been left a $700,000 for-     After the accident, Max took
tune by' an uncle in Puerto Rico one    glance    at    Haemophelia's to lts ever-growing list of mono
who  recently  died  of  heart  at- broken body lying retching and polies.
tack when  a  cap gun  went off gurgling on  gory Granville St.,
in  tho legislative gallery whore then  turned  to  run  home  with
he was sitting. all his little Mexican mite.
Earlier it was learned, by the
Son, that CBC  had  gained  exclusive rights to radio, TV, movie,
In  u  statement  to  a   Son   re-     He refuses to be coaxed from grj ancj comic book concessions
porter. Mrs. Slutchkept, who had out of the garbage disposal unit a^ ^e BEG
been  forced  into  washing  golf- where  he  intends  to  grind out
balls for a living, said, 'I owe it the rest of his life unless some- •    The acquisition of the lucrative
al! to the Son. Usually I only use thing can be done. hot-dog business spells ruin for
thc Son to wrap the fish scales      You   can   make   Max   happy hundreds of frankfurter distribu-
in but today I decided to read it." again if you have an extra little tors who, incidentally, read the
You can have a subscription to mistress apound the house. Just Vancouver Son.
the Son by phoning TA 7141 and pack her securely and send her
asking for Sam. to the above address.
The CBC  is operated  by the:
same group which is in favour I
1 of TCA.
CfumtnLf StoA. Chalet
World tensions got you down? Get away from it all with
a weekend atop God-forsaken Grouse Mountain.   You will
read only the Sunday Son—no world news guaranteed.
Knitting, Gating, Son Reading, Eating. Sloping, Evacuating
Excellent View of the Vancouver Son Tower
VANCOUVER'S Only CR0MIE0WNED  PAPER
SON INTERNATIONAL
NEWS
Russia  declared   war   on   the
United States today.
SON PRAISED HICHL Y
BY INTELLIGENT MLA
High praise for the Vancouver Son was given in the Provincial Legislature again
Thursday.
J. Allen Smeed, MLA for
Salmon Arm, told members
that he thought a filler on page
46 of the Son's Wednesday
edition was real funny.
The filler read: "The modern
high school student is a sex-
crazed little s.o.b."
Oh, Boy!
Those Seals
day. After all, we don't expect
' a person to work around here for
25   years   without   having   ONE
holiday."
I let out a little sigh, which
nearly popped my girdle (no, I
'< haven't had it for 25 years), then
1 jumped up off Heemie's lap to
i tell some  of the  other girls  in
| the office the news*
j     When I got back to Heemie's
office, he was hunched over his
I desk, working out the details
| for my trip.
j "We want your trip to bo en-
; joyable as possible, and we're
'going to pay all the expenses.
, Nothing's too good for you. Of
(course wo want you to write us
i a story every day telling us what
you're doing.    We'll print them
on tho women's page."
"Anything special you want iu
the stories, Heem?"
"Nothing much, Just mention
the   Son   at   least   25   timta   in
every  story,   and   don't   let   the
readers   forget   who   sent   you.
When we send an employee on
a trip we want to let the readers
BY TERRY CRAP
Son Auistant City Editor
Woof! Woof! That's how the! know about it
seals bark at Stanley Park Zoo,1 "Where am I going Heemie?"
according to zookeeper Alan | "False Creek Flats. The soen-
Worst. ery's  beautiful." CBC s Fault Again
| There is much international news of concern in the
world today. The war in Indo-China, the uneasy peace
in Korea, tiie threatened ejid of tiie universe in the American atom bomb blasts in the Pacific.
| The Indo-China situation is easy to analyse. It is a
1 well-known fact that the native Indo-Chinese are a cultured, mature people. Disregarding the Occidental world's
mania for materialistic values, the basis upon which this
highly intelligent people base their society is one to envy.
I The Indo-Chinese people are, or were, a peace-loving
people. They loved to sit around their, primitive huts on
Sunday evenings and listen to the radio. Chance would have
! it that this friendly, peace-loving, cultured people would
tune in on Stage 54.
I Everyone knows the result.
1 The Indo-Chinese today are at war. They are engaged
1 in a bitter war which probably will go on for years. All
because of CBC.
Everyone knows that the Korean race is a simple people. They love the simple, basic life, complete with corn
flake boxtops, soap operas and give-away programs.
The only wavelength the Koreans can get is 690, CBC.
Result: the Korean people are prepared to go to, war at
any minute. All because of CBC.
It is obvious that, underneath it all, Ameripans are
frustrated. Actually, in spite of the extrovert, loud-mouthed
society they typify, all Americans have inferiority complexes.
Well, CBC annually takes all the radio awards away
from the big American stations. Result: the U.S. has to show
off in another manner—atomic blasts in the Pacific. All
because of CBC.
1 Bloody CBC
Harbor Span Needed
With the new Granville Bridge completed and the
building of a new Marpole span practically assured, City
Council may feel itself tempted to sit back on its laurels
with a boastful "look what we built."
The Vancouver Son, always a pioneering newspaper,
has consulted qualified expert opinion to determine' what
is now needed to insure the unimpaired growth of the
Lower Mainland.
On the strength of this advice, The Vancouver Son,
which first advocated the Marpole. arid Granville crossings,
now proposes that a direct communicating link be built
between the foot of Granville and Lonsdale Avenues.
| The alternative is a bridge cutting diagonally across the
harbor. This bridge would start at Hastings and Granville,
clearing the CPR's water front facilities, with auxiliary
ramps on Howe and Seymour, and cross in a wide curve
over to the foot of Lonsdale.
'One of Dufton's Boys, eh?'
THIS It THE SEASON ot Joyous awakening, of glorious rebirth ol nature, of beauteous trilling of feathery songsters, of soul-
satisfying celestial grandeur; in
short, this is the time when bounteous Mother Nature unfolds- her
ample bosom after the onslaught
of the icy blasts ef Winter's cold
and the woodland rills sparkle
swiftly through dappled glades
once again.
What a Joy it is to lie down
on the fragrant grass and watch
the little bugs running around at
their little tasks. What a thrill it
is te see the little ants carrying
home dead,caterpillars for supper. What ecstasy to see
that most noble of subterranean
invertebrates, the worm, playing
tug-of-war with the robin.
The rapturous melodies of our
feathered friends as they gracefully evade the embrace of the
itinerant feline evoke paeans of
praise for Nature's glorious plan.
See the lithe tabby as he playfully bides behind a tussock of
grass, observing the peregrinations of mother robin. He is going
to give her a surprise. Watch!
He leaves his place of concealment and dashes to her side, hoping to give her a fright, and his
Little trick succeeds! She jumps
into the air twittering excitedly,
while pussy stands below, his tail
wagging happily. How joyous!
The children run gaily to and
(ro in the spring breezes, casting
their winter garments aside. They
play their little game of tag with
joyous shouts interspersed with
the occasional sneeze, pausing
only to wipe their runny noses
or to shed a heavy sweater. Glorious Spring!
op op 9p
I THINK IMPERIALISM IS
GREAT.
Sometimes I think it's better
than that, but most of the time
I content myself with the happy
thought that imperialism is wonderful.
Mind you, I'm no reactionary,
but I must say that imperialism
is great. God and the Queen
(God bless her), I say, God and
the Queen (God bless her). Would
God have created imperialism if
he hadn't been in favor of it?
Balderdash!
Don't anyone tell you different,
my friends, those natives are
happy working for 3c a day. And
they don't really mind working
16 hours a day, no sir. At least,
I've never heard one complaining.
i
j    It's    these    communists    and
; socialists  and  liberals  that  are
(causing all the trouble. Telling
the natives about Sundays off and
three meals a day and standards
of living. Mush-minded idealists,
! that's what.
And what if there were no
colonies? Where would the Queen
(God bless her) go every year?
What would all those happy natives do with themselves if they
couldn't walk a hundred miles
overy now and then to huzza the
Queen (God bless her) as she goes
by? It just wouldn't be right.
These mlsgu'.aed reformers
don't know what harm they are
doing. What if the Queen (God
bless her) read some of their
rabble-rousing trash and saw
•some lie that the natives are getting tired of trekking across the
veldt in their quaint costumes to
sing songs for her? I bet she'd
be heartbroken
So just leave the natives alone;
the Queen (God bless her) is
happy.
"■■P
mmm
Jock
Wisserman
CROSS MY HEART
You may not believe it but this is. true. I was sitting in the
back booth in Dean's Cafe when Louie the Up and Barney
the Bastard dropped in, oozed into their seats and, while they
were heating up shots in their teaspoons, I overheard this little
story.
It seems that one of the wheels in Mulligan's gambling
Soon squad was involved in a floating crap game down in a
eymour street emporium tother night while accompanied by
a hat-check girl from the Penthouse who also had along her
kid brother who knew a tipster at Lansdowne whose uncle went
with a Cave chorus girl who recently was Renoed from a con
man who hangs out in the back of a shop run by one of the
B.C. Lions' executives who has dandruff.
Well the defective detective drops about three G's in the
bone game and is somewhat hot under the collar because he
hasn't got anything up his sleeve (get it?—collar- sleeve). He
whips out his book of parking tickets and clobbers the hat-
check girl from the Penthouse who . . .
Well "to make a long story longer, the goon squad square
gets mad, picks up his marbles and toddles off home, saying
that he will tell Watty all unless they give him back his money.
And all the con man said was "My winnings make me feel like
the bottom of a stove- grate, grate."
And this is true!!
Op Op Op
More Dirt — What rising young exec who developed a
thicW lip after being caught in an upper room of a prominent
hotel will shortly get the can tied to him for his questionable
activities along night-club row?
V V 'op
Crystalballing — As predicted exclusively here last week
the application for a liquor license for a Main street eatery was
turned down again by the Police Commission. The Police Commission had better pull up its flat feet as I see no reason why
that eatery shouldn't have one of Mr. Bonner's coveted booze
certificates.
*v **V *r
The Inside Dope — And it is reported that Margaret
O'Brien, who was recently in town for a date with the Avon
people, actually told her mother where to go one night after
she got slightly tipsy at a 'coketail' party. I believe Margaret
should be submitted to a strict Wisserman test.
Op Op Op
Wise Sayings — And if those kids out at UBC don't clean
up their paper I personally am going to tell the Post-Master
General on them. I didn't like that innuendo in that page 3 filler
and remember, when they are suspended, you read it here firsts
Around Your Dial — If you really want some good programs tune in CHUB, Nanaimo. The music on this program is
topped only by the ivory tinkling of Hugo Sartoretto in the
Grouse Mountain chalet. The joy of listening to Hugo is topped
only by skiing on Grouse Mt. And this is topped only by the
pleasure of attending a Son Salmon Derby (are you listening
Sam?)
Op Op Vp
Note to Mrs. lay Walters — Concerning your husband, "Isy
Is or Isy Ain't My Buddy?" . . . and is positively no truth to the
rumor that I am the Ted Seaton who writes in Flash.
MIN NND A FORTUNI /?     »
(M
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THt
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At  better  stores  everywl
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three-more     'DESERT    CASUALS
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Medium width, tiiet 6 to I2t
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Chomo-iuede flnhh m bl
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nnU:UUaAA<S
I    I    •    I    T    I    •
JJ43 DanfottH Avenue, fere*** IS, (
kn U.S.A Clark* ef tnglwid I
I J Mof wte H>*¥, Morwatk, Com. By Mt Scotch
K MAN'S MUSING
For sheer, Grade A poppycock
It's hard to beat some of the
public utterances of American
businessmen and I am contemplating a collection of the capitalist mind at work.
• J.C. Stuart, a director of U.S.
Steel, recently stated that the
free enterprise system is necessary for individual initiative. I
wonder if Stuart, from his palatial $40,000 home in Philadelphia, has ever considered the
plight of the South African natives who toil for 35c per day in
the silicosis-ridden mines of that
country.
It makes me sick to hear bloated public leeches like Stuart
pontificate about the average
man as he sips champagne at his
country home. A good, hard 12-
hour day at the mines would do
Stuart's individual initiative a lot
of good, if the natives could stand
the stench of his money. And yet
I still am receiving criticism for
my series on the poor, downtrodden, champagne-less Soujh
African natives.
*r *r *T t
My. it's nice here on my island
away from the hustle and bustle
of the city, the racket of streetcars and the raving of radio announcers.
Talking  to a  friend  and  we
agreed how unfortunate it was
that the average woman today
knows little of the unexpressable
joys of scrubbing on a washboard. Man, in his haste for big-
jer and better refrigerators, atom
smashers and busts on his movie
stars, has discarded many of the
down-to-earth pleasures which
made life really worth living
back in the good old days when
I wrote a column only three
times a week.
One of these forgotten pleasures is scrubbing on a washboard. Laying in my hammock, I
observed Brown-Eyes this morning as she flicked a switch and
sent her week's wash through the
new-fangled capitalistic machine
which saves her time, but deprives her of much wholesome
pleasure. What many women today need is a good back-breaking
session on a rough washboard.
We are becoming too soft, especially our women who have too
many modern appliances. I figured this out all by myself as I
lay in my hammock.
*
*
Into town last week and I gleefully stood at corner of Georgia
and Granville and just chuckled.
. . . my, but it's nice here on
my island away from the hustle
and bustle of the city, the racket
of streetcars and thc raving of
radio announcers.
*T* *T* *f*
Went out to my little beloved
one-holer yesterday and as I sat
there, idly toying with an old
Eaton's catalogue, I sneered at
the whole world. Here I was just
sitting peacefully (I very seldom
have to strain), free from worries
or cores and millions of people
— were grubbing for money, getting ulcers, planning wars, attacking the CBC and going mad
from the noise of the cities. So I
just sat then in my one-holer
and gloated.
and gloated. . . . Mv but it's nice
here on my one-holer away from
the frightening slush and slurp
of city toilets.
FOR SALE — 37,948 EMPTY
beer bottles open for bids.
Highest or only tender not
necessarily accepted. Submit
to The Ubyssey, Brock Hall.;
•J «j u
WANTED    TO    BUY   —   UN-
abridged version of 1954 Sessional Law Examinations. Willing to pay top market price. '■
See Ivan Feltham. Law 3.
FOR RENT—SPACIOUS CLUB
rooms    on    campus.    Owners
forced to vacate. Apply to the
'secretaries, Newman Club and
VCF. j
LOST — IN THE VICINITY
of Botanical Gardens, size 40;
Maidenform bra. Finder please
phone Ann Breastwork Hall.
UP ONE
NOSTRIL
By Mamie Baloney
I see mat our friends down
south cf th? border have let
lcose an A-bomb which went
ou. of control.
Scientists uont the Atomic
Enerev Commission have admitted that the uower of the
recent'atomic blast was far be-
vo.-.d excectations and thr t the
forthcoming atomic explosion
fculd blew uo the world.
This mav be all very* well,
but what will the P-TA think
of it?
PANORAMIC VIEW of thriving young B.C. community is
snapped by Vancouver Son photog Bill Dennit in a Vancouver
We-Fly plane piloted personally by Fit. Lieut. Sam Crummy.
Yup, Yup, one of B.C.'s future cities is shown, containing
only two buildings at present — one is the City Hall, the
other is a Vancouver Son paper shack.
Canadians Say
GOOSE BAY BUGLE;—
We don't like Social Credit.
Twong pouches, used by" Elso- from rhinocerus scrdtums by the
domo    natives,    are    fashioned village elders.
L_ A I (J N O      tySiyte 7^mc^^
time  Now to  Buy Carefree
CASUAL  CLOTHES
Because  Soon  You'll  be
Taking  it  Easy
•      •      e
. • . exams over . . . the hard grind
behind you. You'll want to relax . . . have
fun . . . and the right clothes are essential.
for the Men ... faded blues
Jacket that's comfortable and smart looking.
Navy blue trim. Pockets. Slide fastener. 5.50
Pants to match 4.95
Short sleeve California-made shirt 7.50
Eaton's Men's Clothing and Furnishings
Main Floor
for the JGirls ... "slim Jims"
wool plaid close-fitting pants are news and
comfortable. 7.S5
top with a shirt-blouse from New York
(fashion-fresh, washable) 3.95
outdoors you'll wear a trim flannel blazer.
Classic cut.   ■ 14.95
Eaton's Sportswear — Second Floor
y
\
.,.--'' Bumbling llirds
Whittle, Wind Aid
Voltage Low Varsity
To Worthless Win
By SLAT PATTERY
A sloppy, disorganized, scatterbrained bunch of UBC weakllnes
pulled off the upset of the rugby
Reason Thursday. They won a
game.
After compiling their worst
losing, record in eleven years of
unorganised rugby at the University — in fact after managing by
supreme effort to lose more games
in one season than their hapless
predecessors had done in the previous eleven years added together — a dazed sixteen forgot
who they were and scored 16
points to the University of California's 9 in the best mumblepeg
contest seen on this campus in
ages.
The only explanation that can
be given tor the lose-happy Birds
duke win is that they had a 50
mile an hour head wind at their
backs. Another theory i« that
the waddling bears allowed the
Birds to fly to attract a crowd to
Saturday's game.
The highlight of the game came
when Max (Methusalan) Howell,
Australian Wallaby vintage '08,
drop-kicked the overgrown pigskin through the uprights from
M feet out.
Sunset's Sun Sets
As Sausages Sizzle
By SCABBY RISK
Economy Sausage really showed their meat Thursday night in
i skin-tight game as they came
ap over the horizon and eclipsed
.he bright glare of the Sunsets
in a Senior B grude (Grade A
nspection) game at the royal surroundings of King Ed gym.
In other games, VAD Oilers
greased the skids for the homeless
OrphaneH kiddies and Lions
?rowled past the low-flying RCAF
crew. PS. Chuck (Old Reliable)
Dean wasn't playing.
NO IMKr, FUSSY CUILS HEU!
SPORTS
i. -
FOLLOW
MY
SON
By Squirmin S. Vanguard
1 got tears in my ears from
lying on my back crying over
those poor little, brave little, goddam little Little Leaguers.
Yes, those kids lost the series
all right, but I tell you they put
up a magnificent fight. And it
wasn't Tremor's fault either.
Trevor — that's my little boy
— Tremor Vanguard. He was
magnificent.I never seen a boy
who could playlike that.
But getting back to my sob
story. I wish you could have been
there fans. It would have done
your heart good to see those kids
play. It was a great game, that
last one.
It was the last of the ninth with
two down and three on bases. I
My Tremor, he stepped up to the I
olate and you could almost hear ',
the hush that fell over the crowd j
is the pitcher be&an his wind-up. ;
I almost forgot, the homo team i
was one run up on vis. '
All that could be heard was a ■
[lull crunching sound as millions
of molars in thousands of mouths
gashed down on a trillion kernels j
:>t popcorn. i
The first pitch was high and '
outside; it caught Tremor on the !
"ui^e. I won i say the umpire was ;
.mfair but he didn't put the kid |
>n first for that obvious dust off. -
Rut never mind: that's all in.;
Ihe game.
The next pitch came right down !
■ hi1 middle and Trevor socked it
•lear out of the park. Unfortun- ,
itely there was a high wind coming in from the outfield. It took
hat ball, and wafted it right into
'he mitts of their center fielder.
But never mind, that's all in the
iame.
Well as you might guess, that
kvas the game. The kids lost, but
hey put up a heart-rending, jock-
.trap-straining, magnificent game.
I cried so much, the tears ran
iown my legs. In fact folks. I
thought my pants would never
1ry. But that's all in the game.
SPORTS EDITOR: SQUIRMIN S. VANGAARD
STEWED SCORES SHUTOUT
IN FOOTBALL PREDICTIONS
By STEWED MACTALE
The Son exclusively announces that Jerry OTlanagan,
starry UBC football player, has not signed with Calgary
Stampeders of the WIFU denying an earlier exclusive report
on these pages that he would.
9rmOtkerCohtpau
By Dick Bedclothes
Working on the principle, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained," your witless writer ventured out to that emporiupi of education — UBC — the other day and g*'n*d the dope On what
the culture clinic calls athletes., .■•,,
These weighty words are not ;to c^li down the meatballs
of the swear and sweat trade at UBC, they are iust to shed a
little light on a clouded subject. (Are you listening, Stuke?)
Frankly, sports at UBC leave me colder than an eskimo's
epidermis. To say that the Blunderbirds have not done so well in
attackeletics would be like saying that Stuke signed Johnny Latt-
ner. It just.aint} so!   •
While voicing the verbals with football (if you can call it that
at UBC) Coach Don Coryell, the hula boy from Hawaii. I was struck
with the fact that this poor wretch really believed that he would
hav* a good goon squad como the falling of the leaves.
According to confused Coryell, he has a sensational running
back from Regina. (Are you receiving me Stuke?) If he is like
Blurbs past running backs he should start running back right
to Regina right now.
UBC has the most honourable non-winning tradition of any
larnin club in Canada and from what these weary peepers could
perceive this year should prove no exception to the rule despite
what Mr. Coryell says. Before the season is half over he will be
singing "Take me back to Waikiki." It is somewhat easier to get
a picture of Princess Margaret smoking a cheroot than to produce
a winning team at UBC.
^--M_-__MB---B---a_--«-------a-M-a---_--^
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