Publicly accessible
URL: http://nzetc.victoria.ac.nz/collections.html
copyright 2012, by the Victoria University of Wellington Library
All unambiguous end-of-line hyphens have been removed and the trailing part of a word has been joined to the preceding line, except in the case of those words that break over a page.
Some keywords in the header are a local Electronic Text Collection scheme to aid in establishing analytical groupings.
"When is the council going to do something about our cable car?" That's a question that a lot of Vic students may have been asking lately as they battle out of the sheep run to catch the five o'clock launching of that "antique tram that rattles up the hill."
Last week Salient put the question to the Mayor. We pointed out that the Wellington City Cable Car, touted as one of our scenic wonders, is also a bit of an economic marvel. Apart from being one of the most overworked and underrated of the Transport Department's services, it has managed to show a profit continuously for years: last year it made the tidy sum of £4,135 after its direct working expenses.
We considered that pretty good, especially when the Department as a whole showed a £131,000 loss. Mr Kitts was of the opinion that it was impossible to isolate any of the Transport Department's services as an economic unit, any more than one could say that the sewerage system was unjustifiable because it did not run at a profit. Very well, we said, but surely if one was going to improve a service, a likely choice would be one that already ran economically.
Even in its present antiquated condition the cable car is a fast, high-density service — carrying three times as many passengers a mile as the average Wellington Transport vehicle. Vic has always taken an interest, ranging from benign to vindictive, in its welfare, as well we might: before Varsity was in session this year the weekday turnover averaged about £75; during enrolment week it averaged about £120 a day, and now it has settled down to a steady near £100 a day during term. The Vice Chancellor estimates that enrolment will increase to about 7,000 students by
The cable car is not really a cable car, by the way. It is technically a funicular railway. A cable car is a single car that grips onto a continuously moving cable to go, and releases it to stop. The Wellington car was originally planned on this model, and Training College students may be interested to know that it was supposed to go right over the hill into the Glen.
Apart from the rush-hour rat-race and some lovely fluorescent lighting our great-grandfathers wouldn't feel out of place on the trip up the hill today. When the council took it over in
Nothing much more was heard of that plan. Some of those students with that trampled five o'clock feeling may be asking what happened also to the "various types of cars" that a W.C.C. Transport Department annual report of about four years ago said "were being considered" for "the modernisation of the cable car." One, designed right down to the indirect strip lighting and pink ceilings, was a light and strong metal car designed to carry 110 people. The present car carries only 75. Apparently this plan was pigeonholed.
A lot of other plausible ideas have been contributed by people interested in the car's future. Every four minutes the car can haul a full load of people from the densest part of the city to a low-density suburb—has the Council considered the possibility of a parking lot at the top to encourage people to leave their cars there instead of in Salamanca Road? Has it thought of aligning the stops to cut out the grinding halts in between stations, which make the grip men gnash their teeth? A little work with a stopwatch showed that this could raise the number of trips per hour from thirteen to seventeen.
Mr Kitts himself mentioned the possibility of a second Cable Car: an alternate route had been considered from Dixon Street up to the Science Block, but he said that governmental pressures against the raising of loans by local bodies would make that sort of largescale improvement unlikely in the near future. He agreed with us that there was a case for improvement of the existing car. Frank Kitts has a reputation for getting things done in Wellington—Salient and Vic hopes he adds to it with our Cable Car.
"Why not let the people of N.Z. keep ourselves as pure a European race as we possibly can?" No, this is not a quotation from the tirade of some present-day anti-immigration rebel. It is part of a speech made by Sir George Grey in 1880, quoted by Con. Bollinger in a talk to the W.A.C. on Wednesday, April 11.
In spite of our large Polynesian minority, he said, "we are essentially a piece of transplanted Europe, an offshoot of British 19th century civilisation." As far as foreign policy is concerned, this has meant that up until the Statute of Westminster in 1937, we remained the "Loyalist daughter" of a country thought of as "home" and the provider of all benefits and stimuli.
Through the supply of wool and meat to alleviate the growing pains of industrial Britain, "we became, in fact, an integral though far-flung part of the British metropolitan economy."
After producing these facts concerning N.Z.'s primary allegiance, Mr Bollinger then went on to discuss the relation of N.Z. towards its geographical neighbours. "A wave of Asian immigration in the period of the gold rushes and afterwards, caused a genuine panic." Rather too obviously, this fear was only the result of a guilty conscience over our favoured position at the fringe of an underfed and over-populated Asian mainland.
And this it was that inspired the Chinese Immigration Bill, during whose debate Sir George Grey made the remark quoted at the head of this report. At the same debate, the supposedly humanitarian Seddon said, "There is about the same distinction between a European and a Chinaman as that between a Chinaman and a monkey." If leaders of a country could say this sort of nonsense, the irrational fears of the people themselves must have been considerable.
After switching to the justly feared Japanese efforts of expansion during the Second World War this fear has now turned full-circle, by returning its object to China and becoming aligned with the current "red peril."
The war itself was another indication of our foreign policy in times of national emergency. As has been seen, N.Z.'s economy has been so closely knit into that of Britain's, that military bonds are also strong. Froude. in the
The most outspoken anti-militarists during the outbreak of World War I were undoubtedly members of the Labour movement. Considering this vitality's existence so long ago, it is a wonder that the idea of international fraternity of labour pushes its way ahead so slowly. But then, ignorance and prejudice are very considerable barriers to such an idea.
Actually, Labour's golden hour was the period
But soon war was upon us once again, and Savage returned to the loyalist cry: "Where Britain goes, we go. Where she stands, we stand." This war brought about two changes in our foreign attitudes:—
The anti-Japanese attitude reached its highest point during this time when Semple was moved to describe the Asiatics as "slit-eyed yellow dogs."
The two major foreign policy moves have also reflected this pro-U.S., anti-Asia attitude.
Anzus Pact (
Seato Alliance ( 1954) has only faintly recognised the Asian countries it is designed to help, is suspected by Asian neutrals. Indeed, Soekarno, Nehru and other leaders have all expressed doubt whether such another "western bloc" alliance can, or really wants to, help the peoples towards whom it is directed. N.Z. entry is wholly due to the newly re-oriented attitude to the "great white hope" of the U.S.
In this light, it seems fair that, should Britain join the Common Market, N.Z. is justified in breaking ties with the "mother-country" completely. So in conclusion, the two basic elements of our previous foreign policy:
are seen to be gradually dissolving with a more realistic approach. Such schemes as the Colombo Plan may have a strategic background, but seem, from the N.Z. standpoint, to have nothing but a good result as far as understanding and sympathy are concerned.
The true realisation must be that the only path to proper security lies in closer ties with Asia.
A talk, centred mainly on how flora and fauna came to New Zealand and their first appearance as fossils was given to the Geological Society by Dr Fleming of the Geological Survey.
His talk was based on a new Paper he is writing for "Tuatara". Of particular interest was when a slide was being shown illustrating the positions of fossils on the time scale, was the unexpected appearance of a mermaid in the Eocene.
Dr Fleming also showed how difficult it was to draw an accurate map showing the presence of fossils in particular areas.
This he said was due in part to the patchiness of the fossil beds and the difficulties in correlation arising from this. Another topic of considerable interest touched upon was the extent of the Ice Age in New Zealand, this was illustrated by two new maps recently compiled by Dr Fleming and his colleagues.
The lecture was well attended and all enjoyed an interesting evening.
The following officers were elected:—
Patrons: Emeritus Prof. Sir Charles Cotton, Prof. Clarke. President: Mr Brathwaite. Secretary: Mr Wilkinson. Treasurer: Mr. Wellman. Committee: Mr Henderson, Miss van Asch.
New Zealand administration in Samoa had been a whole series of blunders, claimed O. Tamasese. But these blunders and the bad administration awakened a consciousness that made it possible for Samoa to become an independent nation.
In a talk to World Affairs Council. Mr Tamasese (son of a Samoan Chief of State) gave a critical assessment of this country's record of administration in Samoa. Although there had been some bloodshed, he said, there had been much less trouble than in other colonies.
The
A major shortcoming was the lack of trained persons to rule the colony. The men who did run the island never had their finger on the nation's pulse.
One of a whole series of blunders was the sending of a ship to Samoa without a medical certificate. The ship sailed from Auckland without inspection. The epidemic that the ship brought, killed 8,500 Samoans.
The plantations while run by the Germans were a model of efficiency and were admired by the people for this. New Zealand management was, by comparison, completely inefficient and ran to a financial loss. Once again the Samoan assessment of New Zealand fell.
Richardson's bungling had one good effect, in Tamasese's eye. Whereas the Samoans had been grouped in clans, now they were awakened to a consciousness of Samoa as a unified nation. The speaker approximated that 95% of Samoans were behind the Mau nationalist movement.
Throughout New Zealand's ad-ministration. the Samoans themselves were the initiators of progress. Added to this was the fact that New Zealand only acted when prompted by the United Nations.
At a Student protest for arrival of U.S. politician Dean Rusk, Kiwi Keith drove up. After usual salutations, he looked at a banner reading "After Rusk ... The Fallout."
Wondered he: "What fallout?" He was told it was fallout from nuclear explosions.
"Oh, the bomb ... Oh, I see," he said vaguely. "Lovely morning, isn't it?" he said, turning to go into Parliament Buildings. He had a satisfied look on his face; he now knew what all these protests were about.
Published by the Victoria University of Wellington Students' Association.
The opinions expressed in "Salient" are not necessarily those of the editors or staff. All unsigned and anonymous material must however, be construed as editorial.
Another Easter Tournament has ended, and still 17,000 odd New Zealand University students are no wiser as to the real importance and function of Tournaments. To the New Zealand student, Tournament, along with Executive organisations, N.Z.U.S.A., N.Z.U.S.U., and similar bodies, remains an enigma. That Tournament is a meeting ground for the respective Universities to do battle in the extravert activities of cricket, rugby, athletics, etc., most students realise. Realisation too, of the social importance of Tournaments is seldom lacking in the average Joe Blow student. What is missing in the appreciation of Tournament value, is the knowledge that it is here, the national student body, the New Zealand University Students' Association convenes.
The business and duties of N.Z.U.S.A remain hidden from all but a handful of people. It is not known that in N.Z.U.S.A. each and every student in the country is being represented at a national level on such international bodies as World Assembly of Youth and International Student Conference. It is not known—to the average student—what policy decisions, what directives, what representation on important issues, are evolved by N.Z.U.S.A. The organisation (as is the case with many Executives at a local level) is an impregnable hostel of secrecy, incorporating in subtle politics, skilful backstabs and an overblown status-conscious officialdom.
That N.Z.U.S.A. has an important role to play in local and international student affairs is obvious. Too seldom however, does notice of the machinery of N.Z.U.S.A. appear before the student public. Indeed, there is no available means through which the New Zealand student can acquaint himself with the workings of N.Z.U.S.A. It produces no Newsheet as do other national unions: it is a voice seldom heard in the journals of Coordinating Secretariat, International Union of Students, I.S.C., etc. Its sole, direct mediation with the student is through the constituent New Zealand student newspapers —this is far from adequate. N.Z.U.S.A. remains a closed shop to all but the "exclusive brethren".
Thus with the local Executive, thus with the national Association, and, once again, thus with the international groups. One may reflect; if N.Z.U.S.A. poses problems for the student, what of such organisations as Cosec, I.U.S., and
In a forthcoming issue, Salient will be featuring an article critically evaluating the functioning of N.Z.U.S.A.
Copy Closes for Issue 7 on Friday, May 28, at 10 a.m.
Sir.—You (9th April) have an amazing art critic! His article "Art and Anarchy in New Zealand" is not only factually incorrect. but a misleading statement of situation of New Zealand art.
Andre Brooke does not "run" anything in Christchurch. He is the Secretary and Treasurer of the Canterbury Society of Arts. This society has a gallery and offices in Durham Street, Christchurch. but other than this there is no such place as "The Durham Art Gallery", as stated by your critic.
Knowing Andre Brooke, and having been in a position to watch his work over the last few years, I was amused—astounded, in fact —to read the comparisons, made by your critic, between Brooke, Dufy and Watteau. Such statements are nothing but misleading distortions.
Further, can I point out to your critic that of the New Zealand painters recognised here and abroad (I refer to Colin McCahon, Toss Wollaston, R. Gopas, Louise Henderson, etc.), most are abstractionists or semi-abstractionists. It is audacious in the extreme to suggest that their development is due to a period of stagnation and repression. Alas, their very existence has inspired the younger painters—T. A. Field. Julian Royds, T. Fomison, T. Moffitt. etc.
How can your critic consider these to have no craftsmanship, no technical ability? They may be. in some cases, immature in expression, but what they have to say they can express in paint with some considerable ability. This is craftsmanship—the ability to express oneself in some medium. The craftsman to the artist, this has been the order of an artist's develovment, from Fiesole to Chagall.
Finally, your critic suggests that there is no "professional art criticism of any standard in New Zealand". Having just read his article, I am inclined to agree! However, thank Heavens for John Summers!
Mr Evans replies:
Dufy and Watteau and Brooke. Any comparison between Brooke and Watteau would be ridiculous. A valid Reference was made to the "more than a casual relationship" which exists between Raoul Dufy and Brooke. The citing of Watteau and Corot was with reference to the constablesque "poetic qualities" the very absence of which marks out Brooke's work.Craftsmanship. After all, I can express myself most forcibly in the field of expletives but I don't claim to be a craftsman in that field! After all, there is a great difference between a craftsman today and his pre-Industrial Revolution counterpart!
Sir.—There has been in recent months a new trend noticeable in the administration of the University. I mean by this, the appearance of large numbers of gentlemen, dressed in grey coats, who appear to perform such indispensible tasks as issuing parking tickets to naughty students with cars, or helping to operate the lifts in Easter field in their spare time. The place must be kept clean, of course, and I am all in favour of providing employment for such members of the community as are willing to take on such arduous work. Yet I cannot help feeling that such large numbers of grey-coated gentlemen (I'm sure I see a new one every week) are not able to find useful employment in so small an establishment. It seemed to me that the lifts operated satisfactorily in previous years without the assistance of paid operators, and that the University and Student Union buildings were kept clean by a comparative handful of men who did not have time to go about performing officious and useless "duties."—Yours etc.,
As from issue 7. no letters will be published in Salient under the guise of nom-deplumes.
Persons wishing to correspond with this newspaper must do so under their own names. No letters will be published which are illegible, or which are not double-spaced.
Extravaganza 62 was a show we could be proud of. Paul Spender, who wrote the script, looks like becoming an important asset in the Big Business. His twisted mind produced such irresistible scenes as a rocket launching from the Nelson cotton mill, and cheese-making fertility rites led by Kang Cheddar on the (green cheese) moon. Any relation to the Order of Service purely coincidental.
King Cheddar is the unsuspected Denise Renwick and Dinah Bradalter ego of Keith Holysmoke, who was played by Barry Green. Aided only by a couple of fetching ministerial outfits, this was one of the hardest and most-appreciated roles in the show.
This year Extrav introduced a number of very promising newcomers, Including Frances Lipson, Barrie Travis, John Metekingi, ley. We look forward to the development of another Extrav nucleus for the years ahead.
An Extrav blue to honorary student John Koolman, as agent in the "redistribution business." who ended up close beside Margo Sutherland, or a reformed Russian agent called Titania in Nelson and Tanya in Moscow.
Margo, the audience solidly behind her, balanced delicately on the absolute brink of censor's tolerance with some of that particular shade of Extrav humour which is guaranteed to elicit a slow, deep "heh heh heh" from the back stalls. I hope someone got a recording of one of her songs, "Femininity."
Jeff Stewart is number one of the people who should get a lot more credit than they do for the success of the show. Smooth producing was very unobtrusive, but very impressive in looking back at such scenes as the Nac flight to Nelson and the waterfront shambles.
It was a pleasant relief to find that songs have become just incidental again. Instead of the musical show hits of recent seasons, there was a tendency to use older stuff ranging from "Two Little Girls in Blue" to the just un-copyrighted Gilbert and Sullivan. But the songs were never allowed to intrude on the continuity of the plot; the emphasis was on the dialogue.
Congratulations to everyone concerned for a lively and quite successful season.
As usual the Debating Society has decided to hold a debate on a provocative sex topic, since for some strange reason, such topics have always proved extraordinarily popular with students of this university. It will be held this Friday, May 25, at 8 p.m. in the S.U.B. Theatre. The motion to be debated is " That New Zealand Women Should Be Nationalised".
We are aware that all our prize perverts, misogynists and ardent feminists will turn up in full force but it is hoped that many so-called "normal" students will be attracted, as in other years, to give the meeting a semblance of sanity.
For an evening of unparalleled entertainment (free!) come along and listen in disapproving silence, or applaud with vociferous enthusiasm or even face the ravening multitudes to air your own prejudices or reveal your lack of inhibition.
The following is a report of a lecture delivered at Victoria University by Sir Leslie Munro, K.C.M.G., K.C.V.O., secretary-general of the International Commission of Jurists. The lecture was organised by the New Zealand Section of the International Commission of Jurists.
Teenage girls and boys are to be seen drilling everywhere in the streets of Java. Uniformed men and women are to be seen everywhere. For the country is in a state of war. Java today is a scene of destruction; broken streets and crumbling pavements are a common sight. Disorganisation reigns in Java. Yet, not so many years ago, Java was actually a very wealthy country.
On January 16 of this year, two former prime ministers, an attorney-general, and a number of people of great eminence were arrested. The arrests were never disclosed in the Press. This conspiracy of silence was the result of government action.
The people behind these arrests are creating a new system of law; they need a different type of democracy from ours; unlike we in New Zealand, they cannot afford to have press freedom.
Pakistan is our ally in Seato. When Sir Leslie arrived in East Pakistan, the students at the university there had gone on strike. He was met by the Dean of the Law faculty, and one of the judges.
The previous afternoon, the students had thrown out three members of the intelligence service who had been passing themselves off as students at the university.
On the same day, a Minister was supposed to give a talk on foreign affairs. But the students said that they were not interested in foreign affairs, but were more concerned with domestic affairs. The Minister was thrown out of the campus also. Sir Leslie was next on the list of speakers. But apparently, he survived.
The day after he arrived, the students began a series of riots which were to last for several days. He went to see for himself, at one of these riots, and someone translated to him what some of the students had been shouting. It was: "Would they not, as fathers, save them?" (The students were presumably appealing to the government ministers. One of their number had been killed In a clash that day).
There was a declaration of martial law; and the Supreme Court actually held that fundamental human rights no longer existed. The ex-premier in East Pakistan was thrown into prison. By virtue of the decision of the Supreme Court, he could not apply for a Habeas Corpus; for he had no human rights; he had no right to freedom.
The practitioners, with great courage, demanded that he should be tried the ordinary way. The outcome is still unsettled.
Much as Sir Leslie respected the Chief Justice, he could not agree with his views.
Calcutta was a scene of incredible poverty, dirt, and misery. Mr Nehru was doing his best. But it is possible that India is not improving fast enough. To improve any faster, however, it would be necessary to resort to force (as the Russians had to do). There were these two ways of improving; but Mr Nehru preferred the democratic way. But sometimes, one is tempted to ask if the democratic way is moving too slowly. There are people who argue that communism has nothing to do with poverty; and that it is equally possible to have communism spreading in a wealthy state. It could be so. Sir Leslie would say however that in Calcutta, we have the most terrible poverty, and we have a very great advance in communism.
Communism has a great effect on the Rule of Law. It has the most devastating effect imaginable. Every judge is subordinate to the power; and judges in an un free state immediately lose all ideas of judicial integrity. Everything must be done to advance the aims of the party.
It is idle however, to think that it is only the communists who are giving trouble. In South Vietnam, the government has also the task of fighting against other distant opponents. While Sir Leslie was there, there was another revolution going on. (A revolution is legal if it is successful).
The Americans are the main supporters in this strife-torn country. Whatever mistakes the United States of America may have made in their administration, whatever criticisms we may direct against them, the fact remains that the United States is the only one who is contributing towards the defence of this stronghold.
If Vietnam goes, the countries to the south of it will probably go as well; and Australia and New Zealand will almost certainly be affected.
Sir Leslie pointed out that he was not claiming that Vietnam was very democratic; they needed a democracy different from us. But if Vietnam takes over, a chain reaction would spread, until Malaya would be taken over as well. Then we would have trouble on our doorsteps.
The British realise this. They are giving terrific support; they have tremendous assets in Singapore
New Zealand is not contributing quite enough. The burden falls mainly on the United States and the United Kingdom. Most people in New Zealand probably do not appreciate this. New Zealand and Australia should get together more often; the day may come when New Zealand and Australia will have constitutional relations closer than anyone ever dreamt of.
The Rule of Law is therefore related closely to the socio-economical conditions of a country.
We all need land reform urgently. In some countries, the urgency is not realised. The Rule of Law would be impossible without land reform.
The Commission does not think that we can have the Rule of Law in any of these countries unless we have social and economic reforms. It is useless talking to the humble fellow in Nigeria about the Rule of Law unless he is satisfied that he is taking part in a movement of socio-economic reform for economic advancement. The strife in Ceylon, in Pakistan, in Vietnam, in Germany, in Indonesia, shows just how urgent it is to better the living conditions of the proletariat.
Diversity of ideas, opinions and points of view was the prominent feature of the second Vic. debate of the year. Altogether, 19 speakers expanded the many aspects of the proposition "That Europeans Should Go Back to Europe."
Tamasese opened for the affirmative and out of much eloquence brought forward the argument that Europeans in New Zealand ought to go back — perhaps not permanently — so that they might see New Zealanders as they really are and cause less prejudice in N.Z.
Hamilton led the negative and having mildly reprimanded Tamasese for his "severe mouthings" pointed out that there was no reason why Europeans (who were not definable) should go back to Europe (also indefinable) since they were doing perfectly well where they were.
With a highly charged oratorical outburst O'Brien emphasised that Europe was the last bastion between the hordes of the East and the New World, and that there was nobody better suited to act as the buffer than the inferior European.
Bromby, second for the negative, pointed out that Europeans brought higher standards of living and skill to New Zealand, hence they were valuable economically and socially.
The variety of opinion was increased by speakers from the floor:—
Hogg spoke for the worker and was well aware of the threat to New Zealand's high rate of employment and low rate of suicide.
March wanted the upset of the sex balance in Europe corrected.
Miss Frost was convinced that Europeans should migrate to the European Economic Community and leave the fat of the land to less fortunate people.
Middleton thought they should go back because that was where their hearts were.
Prusad held that the proposition was condemned since it relied on racial discrimination.
Schultz maintained that New Zealand should keep the Europeans to pick their brains.
And Miss Boyle disagreed with all who had spoken and thought they should have to stay only as there was no reason for them to go.
Neither side in its summing up was able to impose much order on the mass of material and both were satisfied to break one or two of the opposing arguments and reassert their own.
The adjudicator, Mr O'Brien noted that the debating was in its usual form and that the speakers seemed fluent and in general able to speak without notes. He reminded the house that a person should have something to say if he was going to speak and this meant some preparation.
The motion was defeated 23-31 by the whole house and 16-27 by the student vote.
Placings: 1, Hamilton; 2, Hogg; 3, Tamasese; 4, Middleton.
Watch for Dr. Sasse
We had a tutorial there. Some chap was going on and on about some old fogey called Aristotle. They tell me he died a few years back. Pity. I'd like to screw his ruddy neck, giving us all that muck to learn. Anyway, we kept quiet and endured it.
We endured this silly business for an hour or so then bolted for the door. Escape was all we wished. But escape was not our lot. Why? The door would not open! The lock was, as they say. "faulty." We glanced back. There sat the lecturer, a fiendish grin on his dissipated face.
It suddenly became clear. He was getting his own back on Society and we were the victims. To have to suffer Political Science for the rest of our lives, such was to be our fate. Not that our lives would be all that long. What with lack of nourishment and over-abundance of learned phrases, we would not survive for long. He would remain, for that Greek was food and drink to him. We were trapped, and soon panic struck us. We lunged at the door, and heaved. It was no use. Perspiring profusely, we tore over to the windows. There was the outside world. Hope returned. Maybe someone would climb down or even jump? There were no volunteers. The steady drone of overworked vocal chords reverberated from the room behind us. Our punishment was beginning. Enough pairs of trousers strung together could make an ideal rope to safety. Again nobody offered, we were in mixed company when all was said and done. If we must die, was the general opinion, we must die honourably.
But help was just around the corner. The lecturer would be foiled. Below us, some fifty feet down, a human being was noticed bending over his motor cycle. Our first instinct was to throw something at him to attract his attention, something like a chair or a table; but as live heroes are usually better than dead ones, we confined ourselves to bawling at the top of our voices: He heard, he glanced up. "You're joking," he said. "You're having me on. People just don't get trapped in lecture rooms these days. You've been reading too many 'Famous Five' books." We sighed distractedly and tried to convince him. We finally managed it. He opened the door from the outside.
We are now free people, but we shall never be the same again. I don't think anybody could go through what we went through and still be the same. Half of us are thinking about throwing in our University education altogether I'm thinking about becoming a farm labourer.
The lecturer? Oh, he's still around. But you'll never find out who he is. He'll deny anything to do with trapping young students in gloomy rooms. He'll say it's all been made up. But don't you be too sure. Someday he may be more successful and you may be the victim.
All I can advise you is to never let any member of the staff of this university shut the door of the room in which you have assembled. Only by taking such a precaution will you remain safe to fail your exams., so do be careful, won't you?
For most people the term "Miracle Plays", if it means anything at all, brings to mind a vague picture of medieval pageantry. A few assiduous English students may have glanced at some of the York plays but most will have heard of them only as a springboard for the Elizabethan dramatic revival. We must be grateful to Alix McMillan and his cast for showing us that even the little-known Chester cycle contains much that is delightful in itself, independent of the later plays which grew from it.
This is not to ignore the quaint crudities of structure and dialogue which were the cause of some amusement for the modern audience ("And I shall quickly make a pin/And with this hammer hit it in"). But these plays have a freshness and liveliness which are the essence of theatrical effectiveness. There is in particular some clever, though rudimentary characterisation which can be touching (Adam, Eve, Abraham), semitragic (Lucifer), or amusing (Noah's shrewish wife).
Alix McMillan's lively production brought out all the inherent delightfulness of these plays, and played down their defects. In the original performances the lines were probably spoken with no attempt to disguise their crude metrical monotony. This, of course, would never satisfy the modern ear which has grown accustomed to the greater subtleties of Shakespeare and his contemporaries and successors. The cast was faced with the ticklish task of turning these regular metres into more attractive flowing rhythms. This they did superbly. In particular Peter Varley (Deus) made an excellent job of his long difficult speeches, all spoken off-stage. Varley is one of the country's best actors and this was not the least of his performances.
The production details were also beautiful and dramatically effective. The programme lists a large number of back-stage assistants and it is surprising and gratifying that so many minds were able to combine to achieve a unified production. That the set, costume, lighting, music, movements and grouping were all integrated into a pleasing unity says much for the taste and energy of the producer.
In such a production it is difficult to know who to praise, or how to commend one aspect of the production more than another. The costumes were lavish, as they were in medieval times, but were always beautifully matched with the set (e.g. in the opening tableau). The set itself was pleasing to the eye and gracefully adapted to each play. It was always helped by the lighting. Compare, for example, the sets for the two scenes of The Creation. In the Garden of Eden the oppressive tree and sinister serpent were matched by the subdued lighting (note too, the contrast, perhaps unintentional but effective nonetheless, between the dark visual texture of the nude human figures). In the succeeding scene there was more spaciousness, more light and more varied costumes all features contributing to a new visual mood.
Special mention should be made of the music, which was chosen with unusual imagination. It ranged from seventeenth century choral music, sung by St. James' Church Choir, to electronic music. There is no doubt in my mind that the theatre can absorb as much electronic music as the cinema has already proved itself capable of doing. The Hell sequence in The Fall of Lucifer was one of the highlights of the evening, and the music was an important contribution to the total effect.
The more outstanding actors were Kevin Woodill (Lucifer), Jeremy Stephens (Adam), Joyce Scott (Eve), Robert Hastings (Noah), and Pamella Webber (Noah's wife), but all of the thirty-odd people in the cast acted well. It was interesting to see professionals working with the amateurs and not surprising to note that there was no outstanding difference between them in quality. James Kennedy (Abraham) and James Ring (Isaac) unfortunately fell into the trap of "singing" their lines, causing a falling off of interest in the last play. The general impression, however, was of liveliness and surprising beauty. From choice of play to the last detail of production everything showed strong imagination, disciplined by intelligence, the only formula for real artistic creation.
The Weir House People's Army retired bloody but unbowed after a short skirmish on the steps of Parliament Buildings after Procesh. The Army moved into an unprotected offensive position on the main steps shortly after 1300 hours, and with the aid of a loudspeaker offered its services to Mr Holyoake as a mercenary force for "global holocausts, brushfire wars and baby minding." After a moment of silent prayer there was a general frontal assault on the main door, but one resolute and aged usher stemmed the tide. Ably led by Supreme Commander Rod Clarke, the troops withdrew to a stronger position at the S.U.B. party and fortified itself for another assault at a later date.
The West should not ban the bomb unilaterally. The Debating Society decided this by a vote of 27.23. A Mr March went further and suggested that the banners should be bombed. The motion: "That the West should Ban the Bomb."
Opening for the Affirmative, David Flude claimed that the bomb is a threat of total destruction. He told his sparse but attentive audience that the West was in a terrible dilemma. It would be difficult to trust the Russians, but this was the only course to follow. It could happen that the U.S. might accidentally precipitate a war. There was mutual mistrust, but it was better to he Red than dead.
Longtime debater Peter Hogg said that he agreed with the Affirmative in many ways. But the Negative disagreed with Flude's reasoning. The unilateralists did not look at the facts. It was a matter of balancing one set of risks against another. He thought that there was a better chance of remaining alive if the West retained the Bomb. The Russians were not to be trusted, the Chinese would soon have the Bomb.
Continuing for the Affirmative, William Dwyer forecast a Utopia. He said that Hogg had confused nuclear disarmament with complete disarmament. One side, claimed Dwyer, must break the present stalemate. The present competition between East and West is in the economic sphere. Productivity now wasted on arms could be spent helping under-developed countries. This would, at the same time both win the economic race and bring peace. The Utopia of a united world would follow.
Second speaker for the Negative, Lewis, claimed that the Russians, as people, could not be trusted. They were a cruel race. He was followed by a legion of floor speakers whose arguments centred around, for the most part, points raised on the platform.
Speakers placed: Hogg, 1; Lewis, 2; Dwyer, 3; Roberts, 4. The adjudicator was Mr Jim Traue, onetime Auckland University debater.
Then it rained. They seemed to have been walking for hours. Flowers followed and faced their feet from all sides. Wheat pricked its ears at their passing and whispered of the staff of life which leant on its winnowing. Life in stagnant pools of the memory made crimson mirrors in their common mind. A tree with love carved crudely in its side stood sadly and they stepped aside to tread the track that twisted to avoid it. Luke layed Maggie, off the beaten track, in his limited train of thought. Maggle felt they would so n make it; that the mystery would soon take shape and sing its sweet song in the dead centre of this man-made park. A broken bird lay dead before them, its beak and wings half-opened. A broken bird lay dead before them, its beak and wings half-opened. Maggie felt they would so n make it; that the mystery would soon take shape and sing its sweet song in the dead centre of this man-made park. Luke layed Maggie, off the beaten track, in his limited train of thought. A tree with love carved crudely in its side stood sadly and they stepped aside to tread the track that twisted to avoid it. Life in stagnant pools of the memory made crimson mirrors in their common mind. Wheat pricked its ears at their passing and whispered of the staff of life which leant on its winnowing. Flowers followed and faced their feet from all sides. They seemed to have been walking for hours, Then it rained.
I can imagine it pleasing the weirder elements of the university population, but exactly why John Cassavetes' Shadows should have excited so much praise from more serious film goers I find it hard to understand. Supposedly an "improvisation," it was shot on 16mm in New York with a hand held camera and used unknown young actors, both white and negro. With a saxophone aimlessly and monotonously filling the gaps in the sound track (the music is by Charles Mingus) the film chronicles the happenings in the life of a group of layabouts and their friends for a day or so in New York
Now, I've nothing against technical shortcomings as such If they result from the, limitations of locale shooting, Ho that the often over grainy photography and sometimes inaudible dialogue didn't particularly worry me, but the film's faults go deeper than that.
Its biggest disadvantage is the total boringness of these people and their lives. The life of the common man is not interesting to others, is not glamorous and is not worthy of comment unless it is altered, in its description, by artistic manipulation. And if you put a camera on the events of any Tom, Dick or Harry for a day or so, using available light photography and on the spot tape recording, it doesn't mean to say that you are going to get a good film. Quite the reverse it looks what it is, a home movie.
The artistic manipulation is done by the man behind the camera, he is the selective agent, and If he has no inspiration (I prefer the word ability), it doesn't matter how he gets the finished film onto the screen, whether he shoots it with a pinhole camera or shows it with a camera obscura. The means is unimportant if the creator has something to say which Is worth saying and can present the old in a new way.
And really, there is nothing in Shadows that we haven't already seen in a hundred other films about people who don't conform, belong, are a social or anti-social or whatever word you prefer, and the very spontaneity (i.e. lack of preparation) in the treatment ensures that we get no insight into the motives or reasons for the characters' behaviour.
Of course, the only valid test of a film is, is it entertaining? It doesn't matter two roubles if it has the noblest and sincerest theme or message in the world; if It doesn't interest, it is worthless. There are, after all, only a handful of themes available for treatment anyway, and probably the most overworked of them all is "the loneliness of the individual" that Is "his inability to communicate" (what?) with the cadet version of the same message, "the inability of the younger to communicate with the older generation."
The distressing thing is that a field of "sociological" criticism has grown up around this ethos; great message equals great film. (A good example of the desire to read a sermon into every film, whether one is intended or not, can be seen in the "Listener" critic's review of Fanny.)
Similarly, the viewer may read whatever he likes into Shadows— a tract on race relations, the emptiness of contemporary city life, its lack of values, the loss of meaning in sex, every man is an island, and so on (even a crack at modern ail if you want it.)
Cassavetes claims that his film is an "improvisation." Well, if you use the term as meaning the result of what, say, a musician does when he ad libs, then this film is obviously not the same kind of thing at all. And when we find that no script was used, that seems to have been the only justification for the term being applied to the film. For there is continuity of a kind, there is some plot line and the same characters appear all the way through. No, the earliest directors often had no script or formal shooting schedule either, but they provided a film with a plot, characterisation and interest. And just recently the makers of Nice Time did the same thing for Piccadilly Circus as Cassavetes does in New York. Though that didn't quite come off, It certainly had more punch and life than this pretentious piece of home movie making.
(Footnote: It's infuriating to see the Paramount up to its old trick of chopping up the image to fit the screen. What a farce!)
The following game was played in the
A relief from the usual 2. N-KB3.
White can't attack the Queen because of the occupied QB3.
To free the King's bishop.
To clear things up in the centre but allowing white to gain a tempo.
Black suffers from lack of development and no good squares for his QB.
A move reminiscent of the American boy wonder, Bobby Fischer.
Black's Queen is going to be out of the picture for a while.
Imagining he can get a blockade Knight on Q4. Better is 14 ... B-N2
The punch line, quickly capitalising on black's mistake, leads to win of material as will soon become evident.
Losing a piece because the bishop can't be taken, e.g. If 17 .... P × B then 18. Q × B. The mopping up process now begins in earnest.
probably quickest.
To enlighten the unsophisticated. If 24 .... Q × Q then 25 R × R ch R × R 26. N × Q and white is two pieces up. Of course not 24 .... R × R. See why! Also if 24 .... Q × R then 25 Q × P ch K-Rl 26. N-N6 ch K-R2 27. N-K7 Q moves 28. Q-N6 ch K-Rl 29. B-B2 and Black is mated next move or loses his Queen.
The 1962 Autumn Exhibition of the N.Z. Academy of Fine Arts has finished. There are several important exhibitions to look forward to later on this year. Before looking too far forward, however, an assessment of the 1962 Autumn Showing would be in order.
To begin with, the exhibition was a pleasing one; pleasing because there was, hidden amongst the dross, work of some quality. There was little evidence, however, of new vistas, new ideas, and this is not altogether unexpected. The preoccupation of our painters with topography is something we have come to accept; after all, the very remoteness of N.Z. reinforces the dominance of this constant phenomenon of the painter's visual environment. This is well analysed, by the way, by Peter Tomory in his chapter on "The Visual Arts" in Auckland University's "Distance Looks Our Way."
One has to use relative criteria in the criticism of work one finds, in the Academy or else a ridlculous result would be apparent. Yet there are. in this year's show, a very few works of art which, far from being what Clive Bell calls "Descriptive Painting" and not therefore, strictly speaking, good painting— make their form significant and have by any standards, the ever elusive qualities which make up a "work of art."
Particularly I think of Stewart Maclennan's "Road to a Deserled House". This painter is one who, I have no doubt, will contribute much to the betterment of New Zealand painting. This canvas is the finest in the show: the finest water-colour at the very least. Maclennan has been mentioned before as the winner of two recent watercolour awards the Hays and B.N.Z. Mural competitions and he will be mentioned again. One feels certain that those who saw the Exhibition could not but be impressed with the consummate skill and delicacy with which the subject matter—a tunnel of macrocarpa trees leading to a green sward—was handled.
The writer is quite certain this work has "significant form."; it is not an initiative work; it is an original and sustained interpretation of a common N.Z. scene, yet a scene bristling with difficulties masterly handled.
Evelyn Page of Wellington set herself—and very pleasing it was to see her do so—a difficult study. "Nude with Fruit." The painting was a lush, voluptuous and almost Bacchanalian study and perhaps the most difficult canvas in the Gallery.
Portrait painting, as usual, showed a singular lack of promise. Speaking personally, it is always a great pity we see so very few if any—attempts at domestic interior painting. The reason is, perhaps, obliquely obvious.
Colin Wheeler disappointed a little this year but we have certainly not heard his final note by any means and possibly his style will change yet. Paul Olds is a painter who causes me a little pain when remembering George Bernard Shaw's dictum: "The critic's first duty is to admit with absolute respect. the right of every man to his own style." One finds it genuinely difficult to formulate a just criticism of Old's work. He is. undoubtedly, a painter of considerable talent and his two canvasses his year though similar in treatment, were different in effect, There is almost an impressionist handling of light by Olds, yet his distinctive style of painting is not akin to Impressionism.
David Barker's work this year was not at all—to my mind at least—worth commenting on. Peter McIntyre, on the other hand, showed in his oil "The Para Para", an almost new face, and a very welcome one. The "Rangitikei River" effort seen at a recent James Smith's Gallery showing was poles apart from the Academy effort. One can see in Mclntyre untapped talent.
John Godrich, whose work was on display behind the millinery at the D.I.C., is rather an enigma. It is difficult to decide whether one should violently condemn his experiments or approve of them whole-heartedly. I think I rather disapprove. Mr Godrich is playing with putty and paint, he is not doing anything worthwhile. Flowers fascinate him. The flowers are so abundant and rich in colour that they almost entice the viewer to join with them in lighting the heathen who do not enjoy forming such tropical and oriental splendours in paste and oils. But there is a little too much magnificence. It is like a hangover from a previous age. These paintings are rich, ornate Victoriana.
John Godrich's idea is to give depth and substance to his representations of flowers (and other, more abstract, ideas) by sculpturing their form on to the canvas. In many of the paintings the foreground is in relief and the background painted on the flat canvas—similar to the modern stage set with a painted backdrop. But all this sculpturing seems out of place on a canvas, where perspective, depth, light and shade should all come through the handling of the paint alone. Thus in " Protea", the trumpet part of the enormous tropical flower protrudes an inch or two from the canvas, Yet "Bird Tongue Flower" gives the same effect of immediacy, the same almost tangible quality in the flower, without going (literally) to the lengths of using the "Protea" technique.
The colourful abstracts were often reminiscent of William Blake: "Lucifer" was perhaps the best—crimson and orange-red, and hopping with devils. The pre-occupation with flowers—insinuating flowers that are almost alive, some of them, and as terrifyingly strong in evil persuasion as any dream-flowers from Mars in science-fiction is toned down in. places to produce some good normal-style paintings: "Orchids", for instance, a still-life where the pale flowers against a dark velvety background were reflected with a wineglass on an ebony surface.
It is good to note that Mr Goodrich is not a monomaniac— some mediocre landscapes were hung. Most of these had more neat line-work and detail than the oils suited. Some effects did not come off at all—in one case a pale sun filtering through clouds bore an unfortunate resemblance to a nearby marigold study. " Towards the Heads", the most stylised, was the most successful. "Sunset Over Tahiti" was rather more Blakian.
The show was a success in that it roused all visitors to some reaction. A floral artist thought the flowers were "real—too real". Someone unidentified said "wicked, but clever". The work is exuberant, but it is difficult to take it seriously.
Recently all publicity media have been saturated with emotional appeals to your pride and your purse, on behalf of the current campaign for the Maori Eduction Foundation. You have been subjected to a deliberate distortion of the situation from which the campaign arises. This article is written, not to invalidate the need for a solution but to present a more balanced perspective of the problem.
For:
(Quoted from M.E.F. propaganda) "The Foundation is an independent statutory authority jointly managed by Maori and pakeka trustees. Its objects are to foster post-primary technical and university education, and trade and vocational training among the Maori people. It aims to raise Maori educational standards to equal those of the pakeha. If racial relations were to deteriorate through a weakness in Maori educational standards we should have a grave national problem. All New Zealanders can help avert such a possibility by supporting the campaign."
"Because New Zealanders traditionally stand for racial equality it is fell that the Foundation will have a strong public appeal. Now is your chance to have a stake in it by supporting the Maori Education Foundation. It has the full support of both Parliamentary parties."
The really basic issue, which has been deliberately glossed over is this: the Maori people have a right to equality of educational opportunity. and if this right is not being met then it is the duty of the Government to finance remedies. It should not be financed by the voluntary contributions of private individuals.
During a recent discussion on M.E.F. Mr. Hunn, Secretary for Maori Affairs, and a member of the M.E.F. Board of Trustees, admitted this, but said. "The Government is not willing to foot the bill. Meanwhile something must be done." No wonder the M.E.F. has "the full support of both Parliamentary parties!"
If (to quote the pamphlet again) "New Zealanders traditionally stand for racial equality" why has the Government allowed the following disgraceful situation to eventuate: "Income per head in each Maori household is less than half the income per head in each pakeha household. Approximately one-third of Maori houses are overcrowded and substandard?"
Also, why has it taken until
The whole campaign is redolent of latent apartheid sentiment. The average white New Zealander has always been placidly indifferent to the Maori people. Occasionally some illustrious Maori will come into the limelight, e.g., Maori soldiers in the World Wars. Maori footballers, Maoris outstanding in the fields of art, science, writing, politics, etc., but after the first pleasant little glow of national fellowship the average Kiwi sinks back to apathy.
Suddenly, instead of the terms "New Zealander" and "Kiwi" we hear the old terms "Maori" and "Pakeha." We hear phrases such as "raising the Maori to the pakeha level" or, worse still "raising the Maori to our level."
We hear of cases like the recent problem in Auckland, where three teachers, one a Maori, under the South Auckland Education Board, applied for leave to tour Australia as sports representatives. The Maori was refused leave, but went anyway, was injured early in the season and returned home—to no job. The other two teachers completed the tour, and returned to find their jobs waiting for them.
Or again, in Whangarei a week or so ago, a Maori jockey who is well-respected in the Waikato and two friends arranged accommodation at a hotel. When they went in to finalise matters the person receiving guests apologised but said that they could not provide accommadation for the Maori jockey in the party. They were told—"We cater for Europeans only."
Recently in a local theatre Wellington audiences were shown a film which wasted twenty minutes explaining that Maoris aren't so very different from us! The effect was to give birth to an uneasy feeling that somewhere there were differences that weren't being mentioned. Apartheid is among us already!
Insidiously the formerly apathetic Kiwi is learning that he is on the brink of racial intolerance. The M.E.F. pamphlet tells us, "If racial relations were to deteriorate . . . we should have a grave national problem." In other words "Pay up or admit y u are prejudiced." The fact of the matter is that we already have a grave national problem caused, not by colourprejudice, but by Government negligence in the past, and public apathy.
All this is raising another big problem. The M.E.F. campaign is a big step towards full integration of the two cultures. Is cither culture inferior to the other? Should either culture dominate the other to the point of complete assimilation? Is full integration desirable? Many progressive thinkers from both cultures do not consider it so, and their opinions are not colour-biased either.
The last major objection to the M.E.F. campaign concerns the distribution of funds. Quoting Mr Hunn,
Will the money go to scholarships for top-level I.Q. children? If so, how does this benefit the bulk of the Maori people? What happens to these scholarship children? Cut off by education from their natural environment, will they become just mediocre imitation pakehas?
Will funds be used to further housing in poor areas, and is this justified considering how the funds were raised? Which comes first-improvement of the economic condition of the Maori people, or improvement of the educational standard?
Does the following case indicate future M.E.F. policy? Earlier this year the M.E.F. assisted a Maori married man, the father of three children, by paying his University fees in two subjects. The man already had a fulltime job, and a 3-hour part time job. What time would such a man have for University study?
Finally, is it wise to let a great part of the M.E.F. resources stagnate by a policy of capital endowment? Would it not be better to spend the capital and then subject the Government to shouldering the burden of further grants?
Think it over!
"He looks an odd one, doesn't he Rose? Look at his clothes, they're ilthy."
"Drunk too, for sure."
"Rose, is he drunk, is he really drunk?"
"Course he's drunk. When you've worked here as long as I have you can pick them a mile off."
"Will you serve him Hose, if he wants any tiling?"
"Too right I will. His money's as good as anyone's."
"I feel sorry for him."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know. He's just so, sort of—you know, helpless."
"Crikey, your sort of sympathy will get you into trouble."
"Trouble?"
"Yes, trouble. You heard what I said."
"Stop getting catty at me Rose. 1 haven't done nothing to you."
"Give off will you kid. If he wants coffee, coffee's off. If he wants tea, tea's off. If he still hangs round, you're off. I'll handle him. I'm used to it."
"I thought you were going to serve him."
"Changed my mind. He's not good looking enough."
"Well I think he's sweet. Look, he's going to work the juke."
"He's seeing double. Probably play both sides at once."
"I wonder if he's sick."
"Sick!"
"Are you sneering at me, Rose? Why are you sneering at me?"
"I didn't know there were kids as dumb as you are, that's all."
"I'm not dumb."
"Okay, you're not dumb. Better give him a hand to put his six-pence in."
"I—I wish I'd been around like you had, Rose. You know such a lot more than I do about things. You know, life and people and all that."
"For Chrissake, shutup will you. You're getting me down."
"I wish I could help him."
"He's a bum. The sooner he . clears out of here the better!"
"I still wish I could help him, Rose"
"There's one born every minute."
"He's chosen a tune. Let's listen to it."
"You can, I don't want anything to do with him."
"Rose, you know something?"
"What."
"You're not a very nice person."
"That's right. I'm not a very nice person"
when Lucas lurched into the glaring doorway of the milkbar, he was several hundred miles away but he knew he would find the tune inside. He was entering a room where the people were not strangers but friends he had known for years. There were acquaintances, he was not alone. There would be no need to greet anybody because they would all recognise him.
And they would understand his tune.
This pleasant phantasy stayed with him several minutes while he swayed dreamily in front of the ice-cream posters and neon lights. That was the trouble with being a heavy drinker. You had to keep having that extra drink to maintain euphoria. The same as an insomnolent needing to add an extra pill each week to his quota. A vicious pyramid.
He hesitated before entering. There's no need to make a fool of myself, he thought. Better make sure I've got the right coin. It always pays to look as though you know what you're doing. Otherwise you're bounced before you get a chance to show you're just as harmless as the next chap. If these people could only realise how a drunk really feels, they wouldn't snigger behind their evening papers half as much. They can't see that a drinking bout magnifies the love a chap has for the world. And for a tune. The love that every man stores in his heart for his neighbour.
Lucas puzzled over this for a moment. Perhaps I'm wrong. I might be the only one who feels like this, he wondered. But it's true. When I'm sober, the world holds my hand. When I'm drunk, the world is in bed with me.
He laughed at the absurd path his mind had followed. Poetic in sight, that's what it is. Imagery, the very word. I make love to mankind. Florialis became the father of twins but he had to be four times cuckold first, according to—according to who? It'll come to me later. They say you can remember things better by diverting your mind to a subject entirely different.
He searched through his trouser pockets but was unable to find a sixpence. His hands trembled as he explored again, first the left leg, then the right. There must be one somewhere. Fool! Hip pocket of course. They were always cached there to feed to parking meters. A lapse of memory, but he could forgive himself that. Every man is his own confessor and forgiver. Forgive me Father, they know not what I am. Forgive me Lucas, I know not who you are. I don't think we've had the pleasure of being introduced. Come around to my place sometime, we'll celebrate. Yes, you'd better wear a tie. And have a shave too. A man is as respectable as his razor allows him to be.
Lucas found the required coin and inserted it carefully, waiting to hear the metallic click as it fell into position. His eyes were fixed on the mechanical arm as it swung across in a grandiose arc to select his record. As it fell firmly into place he twitched nervously. He watched the disc begin to circle and the pickup whirr into the three minute spiral.
As the introductory guitar chords struck he winced perceptibly. Strange how four bars of a particular combination of notes could affect one so much. What was it called? Mexico, that's right, Mexico. Hard to remember the names of these tunes that have no words to them. You associate tunes with people and places and incidents. but never words.
He turned as if to choose a table but instead he placed one arm up against the jukebox and leaned unsteadily on it. His breath clouded the curved glass panel and he patterned in the mist a triangular shape. Beak of a bird. The bird that flew so high above his comrades he lost his sense of direction and died on the wing searching for them. Lucas drew a sharp, thumb sized line through the beak. Shot down with its own arrow. He giggled foolishly.
The record had finished so Lucas put another sixpence in. He would play it until he had nothing left. If he could only burn the tune into his brain he might then be able to carry her around in his mind constantly. There would be no need to keep making these short, futile calls to visit her for a few minutes at every music box in town.
A rueful smile flickered on his lips as he contrasted the brightly snapping orchestration with his own body, in a state of semicollapse, draped around the chesthigh case. He had to absorb every chord, every harmony, into the million drugged tissues of his body.
But he no longer cared about any of that. He was happy because he could recall her clicking fingers and twisting slacks of that Saturday (or was it Sunday) morning some months ago. She probably had not known then or even now that this was how she would be remembered. She had given herself to the tune and danced a few careless steps on the carpet floor of the living room in her flat. She would not remember though. The tune had meant nothing more to her than a passing pleasure or the approach of another afternoon in her life.
And he had given her a cup of coffee in bed while the sun was rising and later they had .talked of good and evil and foothpath saints.
"It's good to see you again," she had said and he replied: "Good to see you, too." But the phrasing was a formality for both of them. She was as mentally tense as he was physically exhausted. But in the early Autumn of her eyes there was present for an instant the understanding that reflected some of the former intimacies of their relationship.
"Forgive her, Father, she knows me not."
Later they talked of trivial matters from opposite sofas while the streets outside cried their teething troubles to the world.
And when they parted, her lips formed a gesture, not a kiss.
Lucas nodded his head in time to the raucous beat of the tune. He covered his forehead and saw her again before him, her quiet sympathy enveloping him in a womb warmth. He felt through the cheap glass panel the rhythmic pulse of her palm on his, and the artificial sensation belonged to him alone. He felt his consciousness slowly ebbing, a riptide that was quickening in pace, as the current at the mouth of an estuary, and sweeping him away to an unreturnable depth. His mind struggled for coherent thought but tile words formed were like the numbers recited under the early stages of a nitrous-oxide anaesthetic. They split and shattered flashes of silver upon his senses, their meaning destroyed before he could grasp hold of them, each successive phrase double the eternity of the preceding one.
Lucas cursed desperately as his arm slipped, rapping his head sharply against the machine. Almost stumbling, he righted himself and swung viciously at the jukebox. The record had finished.
He knew he could not pay any more into it but he needed to hear the tune once again. He hammered harder still upon the transparent shield that was between him and the tune; the tune that was her's and was his. He had to release her from the prison of his own mind where she was ensnared and where she had ensnared him. Trembling with the sobbing self pity of a neglected child, he punched violently at the glass.
As it shattered, the gentle tinkling soothed him, and from his hand the slow crimson stain crept furtively amongst the fragments.
He smiled: he had freed her.
"Thank God the police took him away, Rose."
"Why?"
"Well, see for yourself You saw what he did."
"I saw what he did."
"Is that all you've got to say: 'I saw what he did'?"
"That's all."
"What a nasty type he turned out to be. It just shows you, doesn't it, Rose?"
"It just shows you."
"You're not really listening to what I'm saying, are you?"
"No."
"I can't make you out, sometimes, Rose, honestly I can't."
"It just shows you."
"Rose, you're laughing at me."
"I'm laughing — but not at you or anyone in particular."
"You're laughing at him?"
"No."
"I'll never serve him if he comes in here again. You saw what he did."
"I saw what he did"
"Rose?"
"What now."
"What was that tune he was playing?"
"Mexico—something like that. Does it matter?"
"No—I don't suppose it does really. I mean, when you come to think of it."
"When you come to think of it."
"Will I close the doors now Rose?"
"Close the doors."
About half-way along Willis Street. Very smooth-flowing silent wool for knitting during lectures. Muffled needles sold. Seriously though. specialists, with the best range of plys and colours in town.
At 48a Manners Street, a co-operative bookshop. Buying a single share (£1) ontitles you lo 10% discount on all titles for life. German, Spanish, French and Russian. Any book ordered from anywhere in the world—delay about two months.
At 102 Lambton Quay, Phone 43-910. Religious books of all descriptions, e g., theological, devotional, church history — and children's.
54 The Terrace. Carry A Complete Range of Student Books in Commerce and Law.
Price Lists Available on Request.
(University Booksellers and Stationers) Lambton Quay. Wellington.
For the most complete range of Text Books. Discounts available to Students for Text Book Purchases.
Comes a degree. Comes a wife, child and bank account. Get in early with a Bnz cheque account. Pay by cheque. Get the record of your statement. Control your spending.
A network covered by trams, diesel buses and trolley buses, will take you anywhere in the City. Timetables can be procured at the Lambton Quay and Courtenay Place Terminals at 6d. per copy. The sight-seeing tours are truly remarkable and will make you familiar with the terrain of Wellington.
Telephone 42-719 for further information.
(Witcombe & Caldwell)
Half-way alonn Willis Street. Long-standing connection with University sport. Every one of Vic's twenty-four sports catered for here.
All contingencies provided for.
Nearest to the University, on the corner of Willis and Manners Streets. Many like the Back Bar. Never too crowded and comfortably twilit. Handy to eating places. Red Band Draught, drawn from a refrigerated tank room.
John J. Gray, Photographer. Shell House The Terraco, wishes to advise that the advertisement on Page 6 is intended to be taken seriously.
In the T. & G. Building, opp. Cable Car Lane.
A most handy shop with the usual range of soaps, cosmetics, ointments and soothing balms. Prompt prescription service.
At No. 3 Ballanco Street, in the Maritime Building. Wholesale wine and spirit people. Vintners to Students' Assn. Especially of interest are their sweet and dry sherry sold in flagons, which go well at a party. Also red and white dry table wines at 6/-. Minimum order 2 gallons.
Recently the department acquired two major items of equipment. The X-Ray Spectrograph, to be used for Research in the Geology, Chemistry and Physics departments; and the new Land Rover, to enable the department to broaden its scope in field work.
This year a course in Pedology will be introduced into the Geology curriculum. Apart from this there are no major changes in course policy.
During the summer vacation two expeditions will be sent to the Antarctic. A five-man team will map the Darwin Glacier, and a two man team will go to the Hot Lakes area.
There are no new members on the Staff at the moment, but there are one or two appointments to be made at a later date.
This year's Tournament at Auckland was marred by ineffective organisation, which showed a decided lack of preparation in most sports—though the efficiency of H.Q. must be commended.
Victoria, as usual, ran away with the Wooden Spoon. With the Swimming, Polo and Basketball teams playing above themselves, Victoria was challenging Auckland for the lead on Sunday, but as results from Shooting, Cricket and Yachting came in, we moved down to last and hence acquired the "spoon" for the sixteenth time (it is interesting to note that the other Universities combined, have managed to wrest it away from us on no less than 10 occasions)
It appears from the number of Victoria blazers and scarves at the Drinking Horn and similar functions, that had there been a competition for aggregate glasses drunk at Tournament, no amount of drinking by other Universities could equal even one-half of Victoria's total. I was gratified to see such supremacy.
I should be the last person to dispute the social asset of Tournament, but for our sake, let's win a few more daylight sports next Easter and loan some other 'varsity, the "spoon."
The Women's Basketball team, Water Polo players and the swimmers were sufficient indication of our capabilities, both on the field and in the House.
At the Easter Tournament, held this year in Auckland, Victoria University Swimming Club showed itself with distinction, winning both the swimming and the water polo. The swimming and water polo teams though fortunately having a strong backing of such men swimmers and water polo players as; A. Griffiths, P Hatch, P. Perkinson and M. Sladden; also gained much strength from other experienced competitors who have been swimming and playing for Victoria over the vacation, in interclub competition. Consequently, in the senior water polo competition much valuable tactical experience was gained for the defeat over the other universities
In the swimming at Tournament it was Empire Games prospect and N.Z.U. Blue, P. Hatch who gave some excellent performances. He won the 110 yards butterfly in 77.5 seconds, the 220 medley in 2 minutes 48.5 seconds, and came second to G. Monteith in a record breaking 440 yards freestyle with a time of 5 minutes 8.6 seconds. As well as this he broke the record for the 110 yards freestyle with a time of 61.4 seconds. Other men who distinguished themselves were: G. Caddie In the 440 yards freestyle, B. Bibby in the 220 yards breaststroke, and G. Thomson, who came second in the 110 yards freestyle and first in the 220 yards freestyle with a time of 2 minutes 20.7 seconds.
Women's swimming showed a marked improvement in Auckland this year, with Victoria gaining the services of Kirsty Macallan (formerly of Otago University), and Heather Randerson. Kirsty broke her own record for the 110 yards breaststroke with a time of 94.3 seconds. Heather won the 110 yards butterfly in 1 minute 40.4 seconds.
Although Victoria did not hold her second placing from Otago, she performed reasonably well, considering the leading club members were either unavailable or ineligible. Those included here—Dave Beauchamp, Dave Leech, Don Leadbetter, Frank Duncan, Colin Beyer, Lloyd Clarke and Lance Leikis.
In the N.Z.U. championships on Saturday, Jeanette Beauchamp starred when she acquired three titles and runner-up placing in another event, contributing 18 of the 19 points Victoria gained for third place. A truly memorable performance, Jeanette.
As was expected in the track events, Victoria did not distinguish herself at all.
The individuals in the field events, however, rose to the occasion; some producing personal bests to fill minor placings behind National-ranked competitors. Chris Corry and Peter Strickland both jumped well; and John Redwood hurled the javelin well to take third place.
It was in the hurdles that Victoria was expected to shine and pick up the points. Joe Pope hurdled well to win the 120 yards. He clipped the last hurdle in the 220 yards event when leading, but re covered to finish second ahead of Alf Harris.
The 440 yards hurdles (in which Vic. has three of New Zealand's top ten) was a tragedy. Harris was disqualified on an extreme technicality, by a very inefficient piece of refereeing; and Andy Larkin crashed badly—while leading—at the last hurdle and failed to finish.
However, Victoria was well represented by Joe Pope, Alf Harris, John Pearce (N.Z.U. v. Australian Universities) and Jeanette Buckland (N.Z.U. v. Auckland Women) in N.Z.U. teams announced after Saturday. It is essential for Vic. to acquire the interest of more promising juniors if we are to capitalise on the advantage of holding Tournament in Wellington next Easter.
Although there weren't any Victoriaites in the Blues awards, (incidentally six of the seven awarded went to the Auckland Architects team) Vic. performed creditably in the Drinking Horn, held at the Ponsonby on Tuesday afternoon.
The Vic. team recorded the fastest time (8.7 secs) during the first round, but dipped out to the Architects great tactics in the semi-finals. Next Easter Victoria should have a strong team and on their home track should be hot favourites.
This—by the way—is one of the few events where Vic. does not need any exhortations to improve. It might be a good thing if members of other teams let the experts compete here, and concentrate on picking up points in the sports they were selected for.
The following Victoria University Sportsmen were awarded Blues at the conclusion of the Auckland Easter Tournament. Salient joins others in extending congratulations:
Tom Gault (golf).
Peter Hatch, C. Thomson (swimming).
A. Griffiths (water polo).
Olwyn Frethey, Jeanette Mason (women's basketball).
Joe Pope (athletics).
The water polo team distinguished itself well with a total of 50 points for and 7 against, winning all games. However it was only through having trained and played competitively throughout the season which brought about this victory, because, as the failure to win the Bendigo Cup relay showed, the Victoria team did not possess the fastest swimmers.
The five Victoria men who were selected for the North Island Universities team were: A. Griffiths, P. Hatch, M. Kerr, P. Perkinson and M. Sladden. All of these, except M Kerr got into the N.Z.U. team which lost to Auckland 6-4. A. Griffiths was awarded an N.Z.U. Blue.
Next year, Easter Tournament is to be held in Wellington. A repeat performance in swimming and water polo will be likely, especially with callisthenics again this winter and continued inter-club competition in the summer.
A new "Twist" king has hit Wellington. He made his first appearance before delighted hundreds at the Capping Ball. Giving his fans little inkling to just where his true talent lay, he started by soothing them right down with a cool blue rendering of "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes." Female freshers, with tears streaming down their faces, led the general outcry of approbation at the conclusion of this number.
Then, with the versatility which is the mark of a true artist, "Little Dick," as he prefers to be known, set the whole place shaking with a tortured, pleading, way out, way off beat version of "The Twist." At the conclusion of this number, the only disgruntled person in the Town Hall was the saxophonist, for whom "Little Dick's" amazing ad Jibbing was too much.
Questioned as to future performances, "Little Dick" said his next appearance would be at the Law Faculty's Stein Evening.
Jeanette Beauchamp (Women's 100 yards; 75 yards discus).
Joe Pope (Men's 120 yards hurdles)
Joe Pope (Men's 220 yards hurdles)
Jeanette Beauchamp (Women's 220 yards).
Cam Murray (Men's 880 yards)
John Redwood (Men's Javelin)
Men's 4 110 relay team
Men's 4 440 relay team
Chris. Corry (Men's long jump)
Peter Strickland (Men's hop, step and jump)
Alf Harris (Men's 220 yards hurdles)
John Pearce (Men's 440 yards)
Virginia Ward (Women's 100 yards)
Vic. riflemen failed to perform very well at all — finishing fourth, and (like the cricketers) failing to provide a member for the N.Z.U. team.
Indeed, the Vic. standard was such, that the top Victoria marksman's score was below that of Otago's bottom man! Not a very satisfactory state of affairs. Shooting is a further addition to the long list of sports in which Vic. will have to improve if we want to lose the Spoon next year.
At the end of this year's Easter Tournament two N.Z.U. teams were announced for tours of Australia. The Women's Basketball team in August and a Tennis team in early
The following Victoria students were among those selected:
John Souter, Richard Hawkes, V Stubbs (reserve).
Olwyn Frethey, Jeanette Mason, Pat Buchanan, Winifred Kingma.
In the periods immediately before and after the Second World War, Capitalism was a discredited system.
The Depression and the rise of Capitalist-supported Dictatorships in Europe brought widespread disillusionment. By 1946, with Labour Governments in power, and the Welfare State becoming the order of the day. Socialist ideals seemed to be nearing fruition in the West.
Yet today. Capitalism is, if anything, more strongly entrenched than ever, particularly in those countries which espouse the supposedly Socialist Welfare State.
How has this come about?
Firstly the Post-War recovery and boom have given new impetus to industry and trade, while the increased prosperity stemming from this has meant a wealthier and larger consumer market.
Secondly, vast increases in military expenditure and increased military/scientific research made "necessary" by the War and by the following Cold War, have improved manufacturing processes and vastly expanded industries such as aircraft manufacturing.
Most important, however, has been the advent of the Welfare State Itself. The greater distribution of wealth and Increased social benefits have given the working-class greater purchasing power and a stake in the Capitalist system. The new Capitalism is an integral part of the Welfare State and draws its sustenance from it.
Modern Capitalism has two important features which distinguish it from its prewar counterpart. Both features were present, particularly in American Capitalism, long before the War, but during the
In one year, the Unilever group spends more on advertising than the British government has spent on Colonial Welfare and development in any year since.1950
In every Western Industrial nation, giant Corporations control markets and fix prices. They have assumed such importance in national economies that they have a disproportionate influence upon government policy. (In New Zealand, the Farmers and Importers occupy much the same position.)
Such groups can, if they choose, hold the interests of the country to ransom in order to further private interests. One can cite such examples as the recent price increases by U.S. steel firms, the dropping of the Nelson cotton mill project at the instigation of the importers, or the demands of New Zealand's farmers for increased subsidies despite the parlous state of the country's economy.
"Advertising keeps the wheels turning" is a true, if trite slogan, for it is indeed upon advertising that the existence of modern Capitalist society depends. Status seeking, though "exposed" by authors like Vance Packard, continues unabated in a society oriented towards material possessions and money as the ultimate in objects of desire.
Advertising encourages people to buy things they have no real need of and even things which may actually be harmful to them, such as cigarettes. Cheap culture and ' good living" are peddled indiscriminately.
Business interests control much of the Press and other means of propaganda, as well as Advertising so that the need for material comfort, free enterprise and liberty, and the dangers of Socialism are dinned into a receptive public. It is generally considered that the Welfare State has gone "far enough", or even "too far" towards Socialization.
In fact, Socialism, as far as it has been carried in countries such as Britain and New Zealand, has served only to give a fillip to the Capitalist system.
So long as a reasonable degree of material prosperity continues, there seems little likelihood of change. To say that modern Capitalism "contains within it the seeds of its own destruction" is nonsense. The only immediate threat to its supremacy is an external one—that of International Communism.
Your president, Armour Mitchell, is a man of many talents. Twenty-four-year-old son of a Hastings minister, atheist, title-holder of the N.Z.U. drinking horn, Mitch has completed a B.Sc. degree in Maths. He is now studying commerce. "I took six years to complete the degree," he said with a grimace.
His interests have now turned to commerce, and he will pursue them. To Armour Mitchell any knowledge is useful.
His energies are mainly centred around university affairs. But he finds an outlet in reading science fiction, and occasionally, a Carter Brown. In answer to my raised eyebrows, he explained, almost apologetically, that he reads merely for relaxation.
His musical taste inclines towards Dave Brubeck.
On controversial matters, Mitchell was cautious. Politically he has no leanings. He Is neither strongly Labour or National, rather—"in the middle". However, to my question, he answered that he thought extremist opinions amongst students desirable. They afforded opportunity for discussion, helped the indifferent student to become politically conscious, and to form his own opinions. When asked about his future, Mitch spoke of having political ambitions, but "in-the-middle Mitch" will have to decide which party is worthy of his support (or maybe which one would give him a better chance). He would not say anything else on the subject, except that there was scarcely any correlation between ambition and fate. He is a fatalist, and does not believe in God.
When asked whether he considered himself a conformist, or allowed his actions to be swayed by public opinion, Mitchell became visibly more cautious. On smaller issues, where principles were not of paramount importance, he would do his utmost to keep harmonious relationships. It was important to retain a distinction between pride and principles — but whenever he felt strongly enough about any matter, public opinion would never affect his actions. Casually, almost parenthetically, he mentioned that the element of surprise often gained him a decided advantage.
Armour Mitchell is not standing for reflection to the presidency of the V.U.W. Students' Association. He said that he had enjoyed the administrative work and meeting people. Now he felt that he should give way to a younger student.
It was the impression of this reporter that Mitch just might have his weather-eye open for bigger things. The V.U.W.S.A. presidency had been a challenging position itself, but was it merely a stepping stone?
Mitchell had some sound advice to offer freshers. "Look out for that apparent leisure." Elaborating, he said he thought that first year students were deceived by the amount of time they had to themselves, and crashed in examinations, having failed to utilise that time effectively.
For several years Mitch was a prominent if somewhat unstable member of that venerable male institution Weir House. His stunts at capping week were known far and wide. The most memorable one involved a smoke bomb explosion in one or the city's more pretentious picture houses. Mitch's expertise in the art of drinking is a result of his early tutoring at Weir, according to some.
His Philosophy
The answer to my last question took long in coming, and it was typical of the man sitting opposite me. It was careful diplomatic and although not startling or even particularly original, it was, I thought, wise.
"I try to do what is rationally correct under the circumstances. I realise one cannot rationalise everything In life, but one must have a regular guide on which to pattern one's behaviour. One of my greatest principles is to serve those who employ me to the best of my ability. If a job is to be done, it must be done well."
My question? "What is your philosophy of life?"
Mr
"Is Victoria University red?" No. it is blue and has been that way for years. During the post-war years there was more misguided idealism than there is today. Student apathy can be trusted to keep radical movements the hunting grounds of only tiny minorities. Most students are just not interested.
A slow and careful speaker, Mr Lind-Mitchell took some time before committing himself on whether this newspaper should allow much space to articles on foreign affairs or not. He thought these are a good thing as most students are very ignorant in such matters. He did not think members of the University staff should contribute, however, as their accounts tend to be biased.
He considered that there has recently been a lot of hot air unnecessarily wafted around Exec, concerning "academic freedom." The Labour Department's request did not encroach upon this as such freedom concerns only the realms of literature and ideas, not administration.
As Social Organiser he intends to revive an institution of three years back. This is the weekly dance on Friday nights, which used to take place in the old gymnasium. It will now be held in the Union Building. A second plan is to organise club dances to raise funds and provide a livelier social life.
All in all, our Social Organiser seems a fair-minded individual of good administrative abilities.
Put the case of a city already short of hotel accommodation, this city being centrally situated in a country where the tourist trade is likely to expand.
Put the case of a city, a university city, which is short of accommodation for its students. The university is in the centre of the city and any land nearby is too valuable to put merely into lodgings and hostels which do not pay their way.
This is not Wellington alone, but also Copenhagen and Stockholm. It was in Scandinavia that somebody first put together the needs of students for the nine months of the academic year and the needs of tourists for the three months of the Summer Season and realised that they were complementary. A hotel might be built which is also a hostel, a hostel which was also a hotel. Moreover the tariff paid by the summer guests would subsidize the rent of students for the rest of the year. From the students' point of view it would mean obtaining first-class living quarters in private rooms for the normal rent of a flat. And the whole concern would even pay its way; not only would it return the maintenance costs but also the capital investment. For the university there was the relief of finding a way to lodge students who lived outside the city without committing a penny of university funds. Instead of going to wait upon the government, hat in hand, for a loan or a subsidy to build hostels at so many unrecoverable thousands of pounds per bed and finding in austere days previous little response, the university could put the proposition to private investors that they might raise a fine building for students as a civic venture — and get their money back.
Well it has been done in Scandinavia. Now, as a student or a tourist, you have the choice of living in the 'Domus and the Jerum in Stockholm, the Hotel Volrat Tham in Gotenberg, the Studentbergen Soga in Oslo, the Alrek in Bergen or, in Copenhagen, the Egmont, the Solbakken and Otto Monsteds Hotel Minerva. They have been variously financed. Some of them came originally from private foundations and trust funds. But in Amsterdam I visited a hostel in its last stages of construction, about to admit students for the first time at the beginning of the academic year in September, and it has been built, ten million Dutch guilders worth, with only such means as would be available in New Zealand. There is not a penny of government money in the building; to have awaited it would have meant postponing the project indefinitely. But the government agreed to stand guarantor to a third of the loan which meant that more favourable terms could be got by the non-profit organisation of three men which has been raising the money.
There are seven or eight storeys of the Casa Academica. It has a long gracious facade and a view from its hundreds of windows of all of the city of Amsterdam. It has a restaurant and a coffee bar on the ground floor which will be open to the public and will actually run at a profit all the year round, but where students may eat at reduced rates. The rooms upstairs impressed me most. They have been built along corridors, because corridors are economical, but each set of four doors has its own private bay which is wider than the rest of the corridor and separately lit. Inside there is a room or a unit of two rooms, self-contained, with its own "wet cell."
The furniture had been designed not to clutter; the divan was also the bed, the table was made to take a typewriter, the bookshelves could be adjusted along the woodwork panelling to take all the textbooks for Economics III in winter and pots of maidenhair fern in summer as desired. Above all the room had been built for privacy and the insulation of sound, so that there was a double layer of brick within the walls and a layer of wave plastic between the concrete and the floor tiles. The central heating was supplied by convectors which do not gurgle from room to room. Altogether it was possible to work in the most satisfactory silence while Sibelius was thundering next door. The final inspiration lay in the coating of the walls with stamoid, an elegant plastic wallpaper, which never shows drawing pin marks. I myself, jaded with the whole idea of hostels after nine years of residence in institutions of one sort or another, would have liked to live in such a room. The point of it all was not simply that in a place built also as a hostel, such ideal accommodation could be afforded. The accommodation.Hadto be of this standard before one could charge a high enough tariff to make the hotel economical in the first place. And theCasa Academica, built in contemporary style for light and privacy, could compete against any hotel of the same grade in the city
I remembered in time that I was meant to be representing not only the people who like privacy unlimited, but also more gregarious souls. Where should they all meet? Well, said Mr Scheltema, they could meet in each other's rooms —hostel dwellers and flat dwellers had a way of doing that in any case. And then there was the restaurant. It was easier to sit down and get to the bottom of Berkeley around a table in the restaurant than at any university high table. But if you chose not to eat at the restaurant, you could still bring food downstairs and cook it in the nearest kitchen. There was a kitchen, with lockers and tables and chairs as well as stoves, to each twelve rooms. In default of a separate staircase it served as a sociological focus for a small group within the larger unit of the corridor.
Difficulties ? Well married students were a difficulty. If a married couple preferred to stay in the city for those three summer months it was not as easy for them as for a single student to find a temporary vacancy in someone else's flat. Still, if as I'd said, students were generally younger in New Zealand than in Holland and Denmark and a smaller proportion of them were married, perhaps there would be enough single students to fill up 300 rooms? I said that according to official estimates there would be enough to fill twice that number. As for conferences, they'd had to go north for lack of room in the capital city.
"Well," said he, "I'd capitalise on that. You see, it works. The whole thing. Why don't you try one yourself in Wellington?A Casa Academica."
Then I asked, knowing I was being unreasonable—what about the Concept of a Hall of Residence? Any university community according to our ideal should include staff as well as students. To ask for this on top of all the rest! Especially when in New Zealand, though this had been our ideal all along, we had managed to achieve it in only one or two cases, and only then if the staff resigned themselves to becoming wardens.
Mr Scheltema had anticipated me even here. The idea behind the.Casa Academicahad come in the first place from Denmark. At theHotel Egmontin Copenhagen which is actually run under the university council, one of the professors lives with his family in a bungalow within the grounds and he spends an hour or two each day at Egmont on call to students as part of his job. The university in Amsterdam might decide to have the same arrangement here. But professor or no professor, certainly the hostel would have its junior and unmarried staff members. They would live here on the same terms as everybody else as part of the intellectual community without having to become wardens or house tutors or anything functionary. The conditions were attractive enough to keep senior students and staff members where they would have left other hostels as soon as they had enough money to keep a flat. On behalf of senior students and junior staff, I agreed profoundly
"Well then," said he, "on the seventh of November or whatever date you choose, in an instant the whole thing becomes a hotel. You have say 300 rooms (it's not economical to build less). Each of these rooms has a divan which can be unfolded as a single bed or a double bed. Your total capacity is 600 with the added advantage that each of your rooms is potentially either a single room or double room as you need it, and that each set of two rooms has been built to serve either as two separate rooms or as a suite, the divan in one room being turned into a bed and in the other kept as it is. No team of furniture-removers to stack and unstack 300 iron bed frames each year.
"The kitchens on each floor are stored with the goods of the students who won't be needing them till March. (It's an advantage of this hostel over any flat that a student has security of tenure into the next year without having to pay for the three months when he wants to be away). The shop downstairs which yesterday sold bread and milk, now sells postcards and souvenir jewellery; the room which held exhibitions by industry offering jobs to graduates, now becomes a creche; the seating accommodation for meals is boosted by the addition of the breakfast room which up till then has been used by the restaurant contractor to cater for wedding parties and Law Club dinners. Best of all, you have a staff at hand—all the students who want to stay on and earn money. And the man who was merely business manager under the professor, blossoms into a proper hotel manager. Simple altogether!"
Then, scrambling down fire escapes and through the breakfast room and along the terraces, Mr Scheltema and I discussed the essential ingredients of the scheme. Firstly a central site—because tourists find it handier this way. And if you were going to let out the hotel to a conference you need halls, preferably university halls, nearby. But perhaps we were lucky enough in my city at home to have the university in the centre of the city anyway? It was so! What could be better? And if the site was central, especially if it had a view, your restaurant could compete with all the others in town. (It was almost an advantage, by the way, Not to use any government money — one's commercial enterprise could run unfettered.) Money was another ingredient. As for that couldn't we tap for loans, say the farming community which sent its sons and daughters to the university anyway and would appreciate first option on rooms in the holiday season?
The growth of the educational exchange between the United States and other nations will presently give rise to a new 14-storey building on the United States Plaza in New York City. It will be known as the Centre for International Education. To be built by the 42-year-old Institute of International Education (IIE), it will continue the tradition of this organisation as headquarters for thousands of students from all parts of the world.
The Institute of International Education has administered exchange programmes involving more than 50,000 American and foreign students and many two-way scholarships. Its first student programme was established in 1919 in behalf of refugee Russian students in the United States who could not return home after the Revolution of 1917.
Nearly all today's students will return to the home countries. In
Among the outstanding I.I.E. programs are: Fulbright Scholarships—administered since
The new centre for International Education was designed by architects Harrison, Abramovitz and Harris. It will have a frontage of 100 feet (30.5 metres) and provide more than 100,000 square feet (9,300 square metres) of space.