THE 1968 RECORD - Penn1968.com · OTTO SPRINGER Rarely does one man combine the careers of scholar,...
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Transcript of THE 1968 RECORD - Penn1968.com · OTTO SPRINGER Rarely does one man combine the careers of scholar,...
THE 1968 RECORD
CONTENTS
D ed icatio n 4 A cad em ics 90 A th l e ti cs 152 S o cial 232A ctiv itie s 344 S e n io rs 424
Randolph H. Elkins Editor-in-chief
Edward L. Glazer Managing Editor
John M. Heffer Business Manager
Ms
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OTTO SPRINGER
Rarely does one man combine the careers of scholar, teacher, and administrator and excel at all three. Otto Springer, who will retire this spring as Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences after ten years in the position, has done just that, and it is with the greatest appreciation that the Class of 1968 dedicates its Record to him.
Dr. Springer was educated in Germany, his native country, Sweden, and Switzerland, and took his doctorate at the University of Tuebingen. Dissatisfaction with the academic group and the lack of give and take between student and teacher in German education led him to America, where he spent four years each at Wheaton College and Kansas University as head of their Germanics departments before coming to Penn in 1940. From 1946 to 1959, when he accepted the position of Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, the Dean served as chairman of the department of Germanic languages and literatures, which now ranks among the top three in the nation. He has retained his position of Professor and despite his administrative duties has taught a full course load during his tenure as Dean.
Highly respected in his field, which includes Germanic linguistics, medieval German literature, Old Norse, and dialect geography, he is vice- president of the Linguistic Society of America. He was the editor of the two volume definitive English-German dictionary, the first of its kind in Europe to record both American and British English, and is now editing an equally massive German-English dictionary, which will come out in 1970.
The Dean has done much to further student contact with faculty and administration, establishing faculty-student coffee hours for freshmen and graduating seniors, and has tried to meet every undergraduate in the College. One of his avowed purposes has been “to destroy the myth that members of the faculty at Penn aren’t interested in the students, and has lowered the gap as much as he could. The editors and staff of the Record speak for the Class of 1968 and the entire University in giving grateful recogni
tion to this devoted educator.
DEDICATION
“Is college, you know, going to, well. . . .Change me?Myself? The catalogue says yes. But how?”
MENTALLYINTELLECTUALLYSPIRITUAL LYSOCIALLY “Are you serious? Try to be.I like me. But . . .Will I still believe in God?And Motherhood?And eating three square ones a day?And going to bed before midnight?(By myself!)And no consumption of alcohol or drugs?And keeping up with my studies?And please DADDYMOMMY can I be just like you and have a suburban home and two of cars, kids, and vacations?I wont grow long hair Or turn on Or tune in Or drop out Or be different Or be involvedOr go on the other side of Market Street Or cut an 8 o’clock class because I was up all night arguing over whether Marx was right. I won’t even go to those movies.Oh no.I shalt not steal I shall not killI shalt not have graven images — not John Paul George or Ringo I shalt not bear false witness against my neighbor.I won’t even say hello to him.
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And so you come to PhiladelphiaAcross the Schuylkill and down those narrow streetsTo the red brick of the Miracle Half-MileAnd it begins.You do change, but you don’t notice itNot right away — so when you leaveDown those same streets, you cannot say“Who am I?” or “Man! Gosh darn have I changed?!”Because you were always changing and it was alwaysInside you and maybe — (when you walked outof the final in Microeconomic Theoryand into the one in ContemporaryChristian Thinkers and youi nfind seemed rather clear orlate at night on Chestnut Street afterthe first bus has come and the last bus has goneand you’re with someone else tofade silently into the dawn w ith)You feel metamorphosed.Not changing.Changed.
ILL STUDENTS
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BEATLES doors CREAM byrds FUGS godz HOBBITS seeds ANIMALS who YARDBIRDS warmth
I see you, can you see me? or did you forget your glasses? or are you looking at your watch? or inspecting the sidewalk?
In the world of Personality Posters and Tensor lamps burning late and conversation pit arrangements of furniture around the perimeter of a room that has been waiting for you to impose your character so you do as you impose a personality on yourself from day to day as you meet people who really look like they know how to Be and run into ideas that you never met before.
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Doing things. Running around and getting happy and tired and bored and behind and thinking it might really be more fun to drive a huge street brusher or have a loose-limbed horse and a junk wagon or more worthwhile to be a fireman.
Hollow quad, not alive anymore, only Empty reflections of the moon’s lonesome
haze.Look out the window at the statue. The judge Sits unsmiling in eternal judgment,Is he thinking? or existing? or am I just waiting for him to assert himself, and . . .Go to the bathroom?The four o’clock world is silent. No comment. You feel alone. With yourself.You feel like you. Who?The line of print has faded out.The yellow magic marker has faded in.In this room the heat pipes just cough.The soul-music station plays soft.But there’s nothing, really nothing, to turn off.
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Vaiting for Monday to turn into Friday Vaiting for voices to turn into sleep Vaiting for Red to turn into Green Vaiting for day to turn into streetlights Vaiting for snow to turn into icecream Vaiting for intention to turn into completion Vaiting for a familiar footstep.
HE HOUSTON HALt
The Wall. The Big Board with the Giant-Sequoia rings of Penn history piled up in thin layers of rollered and brushed expression. Telling of meetings and parties and mobilizations and unmobilizations and remobilizations and quasimobilizations and protomobilizations and premobilizations and hypomobilizations and ambimobilizations and nihil- mobilization and Olatunji’s Drums of Passion and Bogie flicks—were you misinformed?—and a message of hidden love revealed to professors and bookbaggers and loaferscuffers and secretaries and continuing education mothers and interns and twosomes and lonesomes and mongrelly dogs and sketchers and librarians and Buildings and Groundsmen collecting the annual leaf crop, salting the ice puddles and mowing the patchwork of Philadelphia herbage Defense de cueillir des fleurs!
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Doing miraculous things and writing impossible papers and taking improbable exams and reading original source materials and seeing microfilm and graphs and statistics and theories SILAS MARNER IS ALIVE AND W ELL IN PHILADELPHIA.
Students being people and finding their own footnotes to put between the lines of their Assigned Reading as experience develops.
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I used to get mad at my schoolThe teachers that taught me weren’t coolYou’re holding me down,Turning me roundFilling me up with your rules.I’ve got to admit it’s getting better A little better all the time.
Lennon and McCartney
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Somedays kites really go high without getting Charlie Browned in a telephone wire or buried under a pile of blue exam booklets, when the FOOD FAIR sign glows reassuringly, when a face smiles MWF9.
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. . . because I’d have thought that in the United States of America I mean with the Sun and all that The open spaces, on the old campus,In your position, lecturing, in the centre Of all the intellectual life out there On the old campus,All the social whirl, all the stimulation Of it all on the old campus No time of day or night you can’t get a Cup of coffee or a Dutch gin —I’d have thought you’d grown more forthcoming Not less.
harold pinter
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There will be time and there will be time A time for you and a time for me A time to seek and a time to lose Or become . . . if we can forget time Because of the responsibility of it all On our shoulders or wherever you keep it But always there and did you think of what Would happen if it were the wrong time?Who will you be fooling?Can you be sure of anything even where you are. Can you accept the responsibility of knowledge? The end of man is to know.Time has passed.Time moves, time unravels.
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Wondering about the day after tomorrow and applications and business boards, and law boards, and medical boards, and doggyman boards, and human being boards.
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And wondering what late lights illuminate in the upper regions of Furness, in the studies of the third floor scientists in the Wistar Institute, in the West Philadelphia penthouse that you won’t believe you lived in looking back at the Good Old Days of ’68 when you were a carefree question mark.
TWO STUDENTS SEEKING
RIDE TO HOUSTON, Dallas, Phoenix, Tucson, L.A., or Mexico. Leave on or about Dec. 19, will share expenses and driving. Call Phil or Bob EV2-19104
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War! Poverty! Prejudice!There is rottenness here.One generation passeth away.We’ve been given a rotten heritage.And another generation cometh.But WE are different we will change things And the earth abideth forever.And without your middle-class morality The sun also ariseth and the sun goeth down . . . Or your hypocritical ideas Or your warsThat which hath been is that which shall be Or your wars which according to a roundup And that which hath been done Of late world news Is that which shall be done.Are void.And there is nothing new under the sun. Devoid.
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When life could be as slow or fast, as In or Out, as Yes or No, as you and the radio weatherman decided it should be. I * *
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Snowquiet when everyone feels friendly and you can’t see the sky because its all full of snow and you skid up Locust Walk and down past Houston Hall plaza falling almost, helping people help you stay on your feet. The same feeling that comes before vacation and before classes start and before special days and is a certain kind of feeling on the inside.
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Planned peoplehood. Unplanned. People living both ways and every other way coming to Penn and working in their own style. Being themselves. Becoming themselves. Getting absorbed in something or someone.
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You lose yourself You reappearYou suddenly find you got nothing to fear.
bob dylan
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