In the begiining was
the end of the line
VALENTINE'S DAY did not just happen, even though most authori-
ties claim that Feb. 14 is a merging of St. Valentine's feast and the
lovers' festival which were celebrated in spring by the Romans.
Valentine's Day began in the childhood of man, when boys and
girls held hands and formed lines and played Red Rover.
Everyone played Red Rover because the line could be extended
indefinitely. The most prestigious positions were in the heart of the
line, where your ability to hold the line together was aptly admired.
No one dared leave the line until one Feb. 14 when a little boy
and girl wandered off from the end of the line where they had been
for a long time. They walked down to the river and held hands by
Naturally the others called for investigations and retribution
when they found out. But after the hysteria had echoed through the
streets and faded away, boys and girls, two at a time, would slip
furtively down to the river to hold hands. Soon a law was passed say-
ing "we didn't like playing Red Rover anyway."
BUT EVENTUALLY all of the boys and girls grew up and gave up
going down to the river.
So they set aside a special day, Feb. 14, and called it Valentine's
Day so they would remember to remember what it was like when they
But even then they were pretty busy, since Valentine's Day
seemed to come right at the beginning of some very important thing
that had to be done, or right in the middle of it or right when it had
to be finished.
When the time came to write down the history of man, the grown-
ups tried hard to recall how Valentine's Day had happened. But all
they could think of was how they played Red Rover and held the line
-THE EDITORIAL DIRECTORS
three movie passes from a local thea-
We arrived, a few minutes later at
the parking lot of the motor p o 0o1
and circled around looking for a side
entrance. We parked between two bus-
We walked single file toward the main
door. Some workmen gave us suspic-
ious, sidelong glances. One of them
started toward us.
"Go on, ask him 'Isn't this the hock-
ey rink?" the photographer said.
The workman walked past.
"Let's just walk in there and say to
the first person we meet, 'All right, let's
see your security clearance.' That's
what Roger Rapoport used to do," I
BY TIS TIME, the editorial director
was at the window. "There it is," he
We all looked in, and saw a mon-
strous, bright yellow vehicle towering
over two buses that stood beside it.
"The riot vehicle-can you see that
thing coming down the street during a
protest demonstration? Someone said it
will go 100 miles an hour!"
The machine crouched there on its
five-foot, puncture-proof wheels, look-
ing awesomely devastating Ten feet
above the ground, on the ioof of the
cab, perched a strange-looking contrap-
tion. "Maybe that's used to spray that
slippery foam stuff," someone said.
A large winch was mounted across
the width of the vehicle, and a series
of holes were built into the side of the
body. The huge space behind the cab
seemed to contain water tanks.
WE WALKED inside, expecting to be
immediately stopped and evicted.
"Maybe they haven't seen us yet,"
said this reporter. "Start taking pic-
tures." The photographer pulled a
camera out from under his coat and
began frantically snapping pictures.
We walked up to a mechanic working
on the vehicle and introduced our-
"i," hey said. "This is our nlew fire
truck. It's 'goingto be used out at Wil-
We walked around and looked at it
again. "Well, yes, I suppose it does look
a little like a fire- truck."
AFTER CONTEMPLATING the ma-
chine a few more moments, we left the
"It was a lot more exciting as a riot
vehicle, I thought.".
"But they might use it for both, you
know. Maybe they'll just keep it out at
Willow Run until a riot starts. Then
they'll bring it back here and it'll come
charging down State Street, spraying
foam and shooting water and spitting
.4 &U e Ihave to live for...: y
others and not for my-
self; that's middle <
-G. B. Shaw
It is preoccupation
with possession, more
than anything els e,
that prevents man
from living freely and
'paradise on earth." If this life be not a
real fight, in which
[S FLED the visiontry gleam?
the glory and the dream?" or somethig is eternal-
principle friends put it, "You ined for the ni-
;ht between my principles and
sion, all the meaness which hade bs
ehind my facades of idealism no better than a game
of private theatricals
support the rent strike. When from which one may
I voted to endorse the Tenantswidw t ilB
rike, I wrote the letter that wasW<a.1 B
nts Union. It was a high-toned it feels like a fight.
need for unified dissent and
petty personal desires. These -William James
's of principle.
treaks my apartment green and
le can't compete with sunlight.
...and a mass ofpoetic excuses
By TOM HEISLER
I AM NOT a public man. I prefer Blake to
Pope and visions and dreams to political
marches in Chicago or Washington.
Thus I am not so well equipped for rent-
striking in Ann Arbor. Of course I have known
that the power of landlords is extensive, per-
haps unlimited. And I know that all student
efforts to negotiate with landlords had not
off your striking. The world is out of joint.
FOR A LONG TIME, I felt I had to help
stop this business. I began my investigation
with that in mind. And I was inspired when I
encountered the power of the landlords,
couched in the eight month lease. That in-
vention, devised by the landlords to profitably
appease student demands was intolerable.
I visited a typical four-man, two-bedroom
eight-month lease, and that such a break
made ;its reasonable for her to pay her rents
and stay out of the rent strike.
"We pay $70 a month for ten months,"
"But you only live here eight months,"
"Yea, that's true."
"So you really don't pay 40 bucks at all."