.55" .w" ,".t r" 'vr v. r.SMV r:" .5. rr :ry{:::wr". ".;rty,. + ..r,.v y ' .. +rrr....wr r.<vv :varr .:vrt" """ "w '""'e "r
?'r t+.v. 4'S.rNr .:' n {v\?J+itt"?r'Jr .. ": .r.?. .: .'S'y S'r r 70"' . ! ... " ... : ,3. .pn... nr. "..s7:'rrtt r.r...x#M ,n..; ur ..Jn X, mt r.". x..
Jar h. f4.. ." 9ey. ...r. .. :!i, :... ..n. w.. r.VV".... '. h... .....n ..... hOJ.,.. G'l r...... . 7«: ...r: ': :5".. r'5.;., .
:?.5".':M1 'P"rN.Mri , :wvs1'S+....h.58"}:L".av?..k:ti:{..ao't ...,. }M"i:.X t'n r...,n.r r}.........y+.":.Yki. r rJnh?".' l0."'ity "g/."?r.°-0ea'' $:v . +.. r q ..n .r....t ..r .,!5'tv." 5' rr r?" .'l .h ..:Cti?:.. ".Rv.^:?
WY e .w«Yi' nn.V.:rv."."n' trr. O:Ah,..rr.'r.thv/.......r M1hw:"r{vrrrw..A.vGiw}:{:'4.,.N }}J......rrn' x % rih t .h r;4 ',rtr' ik' }r Y k r"i 4f+&K{ riJ Cr ?riti4 r":)4'rFk:? v$
Seventy-Sixth Year
EDITED AND MANAGED BY STUDENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
UNDER AUTHORITY OF BOARD IN CONTROL OF STUDENT PUBLICATIONS
POWER
POETRY
The Man Who Built His Own Memorial
by MARK R. KILLINGSWORTH
x.
>.: ;
:.
!
' :fir
.n.5.... ."!".{{ N r:W {... Fn"r, ."" vA "v r r " . . u
. '4 Yf. {. w. .Yi.' :." n: .
xe
ons Are Free. 420 MAYNARD ST. ANN ARBORMICH.
roil Prevail 4A
NEws PHONE: 764-0552
Li
Editorials printed in The Michigan Daily express the inidividual opinions of staff writers
or the editors. This must be noted in all reprints.
DAY, MAY 6, 1966
NIGHT EDITOR: MEREDITH EIKER
Summer and Seurat:
Ann Arbor's Pastel Days
ANN ARBOR in the winter has all the
charm and warmth of an abandoned
service station. Sleet and rainy snow
beat down in diagonal sheets against the
dull walls of University buildings and
against the dirty sides of small wooden
houses. Unsmiling little people rush from
door to door trying to stay a few steps
ahead of frost-bite. The sun rises at noon
and disappears shortly after lunch.
THE GREY DESLOATION of winter
slinks away shame-faced and defeat-
ed, however, when summer pours into the
city with new winds and fresh warmth.
The schedule and deadlines of winter life
lift like cold steel grates from the young-
lawns and lukewarm pavement of the
city, and people begin to walk slowly
from place to aimless place, as if walk-
ing were a privilege awarded only to the
few true sons of nature.
Ann Arbor becomes a village for some
people. For others, Ann Arbor is trans-
formed by summer and by summer people
into a strangely fluctuating colony of ar-
tists and engineers, a port of exile, a
reminiscence, or a hope.
SIT DOWN in a restaurant with big
windows, where they leave the front
door open, and watch. Dusty cars roll
by by issuing an occasional honk like
sheep moving up to summer pasture. Four
angry Arabs appear in front of the win-
dows: they stop and point sharp fingers
at each other, each one furious about a
separate problem. A silly fluffy-headed
girl dressed to resemble a contoured bar-
ber pole squeezes uneasily through the
loud Arabian dispute. The Arabs immedi-
ately stop disputing and walk away after
the girl.
Walk down South University for a while.
High school kids rush in and out of the
Little Shop talking about mufflers and
Editorial Staff
CLARENCE FANTO.....................Co-Editor
CHARLOTTE WOLTER................. Co-Editor
BUD WILKINSON...................Sports Editor
BETSY COHN ..................*Supplement Manager
NIGHT EDITORS: Meredith Eiker, Michael Heffer,
Shirley Rosick, Susan Schnepp, Martha Wolfgang.
Business Staff
SUSAN PERLSTADT . . . .......... Business Manager
LEONARD PRATT.............. Circulation Manager
JEANNE ROSINSKI ........ .... Advertising Manager
RANDY RISSMAN............Supplement Manager
The Daily is a member of the Associated Press and
Collegiate Press Service.
The Associated Press is erilusively entitled to the
use of all news dispatches credited to it or otherwise
credited to the newspaper. All rights of re-publication
of all other matters here are also reserved.
Subscription rate: $4.50 semester ny carrier (85 by
(nal); $8 yearly by carrier ($9 by mail)
second class pystage paid at Ann Arbor. yigb.
Published daily Tuesday through Saturday morning.
hydraulic steering wheels. Two little boys
with voluminous haircuts and grasshop-
per legs follow an enormous blonde girl
across the street to look at the Campus
Theatre marquee.
A few steps away, Ken Bondjuk stands
in front of his clothing store enjoying the
light wind, nodding to friends, and de-
touring anyone into his store who strolls
by a little too slowly for escape.
CROSS THE CROWDED corner by the
bank: that angry little man in the
purple Buick, whose thoughts are running
to negligent homicide as he attempts to
cross the intersection with you in the
way, does not exist. He'll get over it.
Two engineers are standing on the grass
by the engine arch bouncing a football off
each other's shoulders. An earnest young
man is sitting on the grass with an earn-
est young lady talking in earnest about
trees. Two goliaths in sweatshirts are
hitch-hiking by the curb.
Smooth rolling green lawn comes down
from the dark walls of Martha Cook Dor-
mitory. Girls in light pastel blouses lounge
on the cool green carpet beneath pink
magnolia blossoms. Pause on the sidewalk
to gaze out over the wistful calm and quiet
grace of the lawn. Seurat. An island. All
on the other side of a fence.
SUMMER NIGHT in Ann Arbor brings
coolness and vague excitement to the
couples who walk hand-in-hand down
State Street smiling with the pleasant
tension of resort people. One half expects
to turn a corner and find the waters of
Biarritz lapping at white sand before a
noisy casino. The lapping turns out to
be the Huron River rolling through the
Arboretum, and the sounds of casino
revelry are emanating from five hairy
people playing guitars and harmonicas
in a tree: why not?
A thousand Ann Arbors exist behind
the screen doors and open windows of the
city in summer. Their populations mingle
on the street and in restaurants for a
while. Then they disappear into their sep-
arate lairs.
But each population belongs to the sun-
light and tree shade of summer. When
the sun begins to hedge and grow faint-
er, and leaves begin to swivel silently to
earth, the windows will close and the
people sitting on lawns speaking earnest-
ly will fade and disappear.
ANN ARBOR will lock up and get to
work. The greyness and cold will grow
back over the city like rust. And a few
people will sit chin in hand at wooden
desks staring at books and paper and
seeing girls on the lawn by Martha Cook
and hairy people in trees. In summer,
Ann Arbor is a feeling. In winter it will
be a regret.
-JAMES SCHUTZE
J OSEPH E. MADDY, the presi-
dent of the National Music
Camp at Interlochen, who died
last month at the age of 74, was
an incredible man and so was the
camp that he founded.
Maddy was born in Wellington,
Kansas, and conducted a concert
at the White House. He never
followed a course of study for a
music teacher's certificate, but he
was a major force in American
music education.
His own abilities as a conductor,
were, at best, limited, particularly
as he grew older, yet he almost
single-handedly created an en-
vironment where thousands of
young people (America's Gifted
Youth" the National Music Camp
called them) from grade school to
college have perfected their talent
for the arts.
THE NATIONAL MUSIC Camp
-which Maddy founded at a run
down old resort near Interlochen
("between the lakes") in the
northern part of Michigan's lower
peninsula-seemed destined for
difficulty from its inception. As
he usually did, Maddy embarked
on the project with a multitude of
cheers from the young musicians
to whom he had mentioned the
idea, and a bare minimum of cash
to make the idea work.
Aided by men like Thaddeus
Giddings, Maddy slowly began
building and hiring faculty for his
new summer music camp, one of
the first in the country. The idea
that red-blooded American youth
would waste their summers freez-
ing in Michigan's north woods
staring at orchestra music was a
little far-fetched to some. Maddy,
however, thought differently.
For a number of years he had
been witnessing and helping foster
a remarkable growth in the qual-
ity and quantity of bands and
orchestras of young people. He
himself had conducted many
groups in contests and concerts
throughout the Midwest. One such
group had cheered his spur-of-
the-moment bravado when he sug-
gested, "We ought to find a place
to do this all summer."
AND SO IT BEGAN, mostly a
gleam in Maddy's somewhat vi-
sionary eyes, but one for which
several generations of young mu-
sicians would be grateful.. -
Embarking on a long, never-
ending quest for donor money,
Maddy once rented a plane, crash-
ed it accidentally, and wound up
persuading his accidental host to
make a sizeable donation. The
National Music Camp successfully
withstood the onslaught of musi-
cians' union president, James C.
Petrillo, who wanted to end Inter-
lochen broadcasts because NMC
students were not union members.
The National Music Camp also
weathered all sorts of financial
crises (and once avoided being
turned into an air base), some of
which were due to Maddy's belief
in giving scholarships to needy
students and some of which were
due to what one aide jokingly
called Maddy's talent for "spend-
ing tomorrow's money yesterday."
BUT BY THE LATE nineteen
forties Interlochen was a manifest
success. NMC presently includes
camp facilities for boys and girls
from grade school to high school,
and boasts a branch of the Uni-
versity Music School as well
(Maddy for many years held a
joint appointment as NMC presi-
dent and professor of music here,
and in 1964 received an honorary
degree from the University).
Offering instruction in every-
thing from voice and instrumental
music to modern dance and ballet
to painting and sculpture, Inter-
lochen announced in 1962 the
opening of the Interlochen Arts
Academy, an arts-oriented prep
school operating during the regu-
lar school year.
In 1962 an NMC orchestra play-
ed with its ballet troupe in a con-
cert on the White House lawn at
the invitation of Mrs. Jacqueline
Kennedy; another orchestra play-
ed at the World's Fair; and other
NMC and IAA groups have played
at Fair Lane at the University's
Dearborn campus, in Philadelphia,
in Lincoln Center and several
times at Hill Auditorium. Luci
Baines Johnson narrated "Peter
and the Wolf" with the NMC or-
chestra in 1964 with Van Cliburn
conducting; Cliburn himself has
played an annual benefit at Inter-
lochen for some time.
* * *
INTERLOCHEN-both the Na-
tional Music Camp and the Inter-
lochen Arts Academy-is full of
contradictions. Maddy's stubborn
egalitarian bent, which puts seat-
ing assignments in the orchestras
and bands on the basis of weekly
tryouts and competitions, and re-
quires each camper to wear only a
camp uniform (blue corduroy
pants for the boys, blue knickers
for the girls, and light blue shirts
and red sweaters) sometimes had
trying or amusing results-the
tension over "challenges" for the
coveted first-chair spots in or-
chestra, the dismay when you
found you had a pair of corduroy
"balloons," the pleasure when you
discovered your girl's knickers
were a little tight.
THE CORDUROYS and chal-
lenges aren't the only surprises,
though. The high school NMC
camper gets up--no matter how
sensitive his artistic temperment
-at 6:30 for a round of calisthen-
ics and then swings into a vigorous
rehearsal - work - study - practice -
recreation schedule that ends with
an evening concert and lights out
at 10:00.
The social scene was a little
unorthodox, with the girl's camp
section protected by barbed-wire
fences, droves of flashlight-bear-
ing chaperones after concerts and
a bugler who sounds quarters just
when you begin getting comfort-
able with your girl.
There were also a number of
musical surprises. Plagued by the
fears of money and accommoda-
tions, Maddy became much more
an administrator (and a good
one) and a promoter (a tireless
one) than a musician-one New
York Times reviewer complained
of his "journeyman conducting"-
but Maddy, nonetheless, insisted
on conducting the NMC orches-
tras for several weeks each sum-
mer, to the dismay of many of the
young musicians, who would have
preferred to have another con-
ductor and other music (Maddy's
tastes centered on Tchaikovsky
and Sibelius).
BUT DESPITE the disappoint-
ments and restrictions during band
and orchestra-and at the girl's
gate!-Interlochen's occasionally
amusing, often exasperating musi-
cal and social quirks probably
aren't that important anyway.
For, despite those, quirks, and
contradictions, this writer and his
friends and thousands like them
had the thrilling experience of
playing great music for two
months each summer-including
for him one bright August morning
on the south lawn of the White
House.
And, despite his deficiences as
a musician and an educator, Dr.
Maddy (he never got a Ph.D., but
he earned nearly half a dozen
honorary degrees) created a vital
and valuable force in the musical
world which will live for a long,
long time. Far from revealing an
essential philistinism, his aggres-
sive and resourceful promotion was
a means to an end, the expression
of a vision 'to which Dr. Maddy
held tenaciously, despite heart-
breaks and defeats, and finally
saw fulfilled.
ARISTOTLE OBSERVED, "Mu-
sic and harmony find their way
into th seecret places of the soul."
So, too, for thousands of musicians
and their parents for over three
generations, it can be said of
Interlochen. That is Dr. Maddy's
supreme and lasting memorial.
4'
The Two-Fold Problem in
Vet Nam
By DAVID KNOKE
First of Two Parts
SEN. J. W. FULBRIGHT in the
last few weeks has continued to
probe hard at United States poli-
cies in Viet Nam, saying that the
diversion of energies from the
Great Society has "generated the
beginnings of war fever" at home
and that "gradually but unmis-
takably we are succumbing to the
arrogance of power" which has
toppled great nations in the past.
The military war did escalate
last week with the debarkment of
additional troops, raising Ameri-
can land commitment to a quar-
ter million, and the first air con-
frontations in eight months be-
tween U. S. planes and commun-
ist-flown MIGs.
THE "WAR FEVER" which
Fulbright has noted has not grown
as rapidly as the military build up
so far. Politicians with an eye on
the November elections cannot
ignore possible voter repurcussions
from domestic cutbacks in Great
Society programs and tax hikes to
finance a war towards which most
people remain apathetic.
And in the wake of Buddhist-led
protests in South Viet Nam which
forced a promise from the ruling
junta for elections for a return of
civilian government, Washington
must be going through a period of
intensified soul searching. The
search for a stable government in
Saigon is just one facet of the
war behind the war.
U.S. INVOLVEMENT in this
two-front war-the military battle
against the National Liberation
Front guerillas and infiltrating
troops from the North, and the
sociolpolitical-economic struggle
for reforms launched at the Hono-
lulu conference - hinges upon
American claims of express invita-
tion from the legitimate govern-
ment of South Viet Nam.
The Washington promise to
abide by the requests of a govern-
ment democratically elected next
September will pose a stickler if
the results were to run counter to
the larger intentions of United
States policy: containment of
Communist Chinese expansion,
even at the risk of war with China.
MOST OFFICIALS now seem to
think that a military "victory" is
a matter of eroding the already-
stalemated enemy forces. They are
further coming to realize that
such a conquest would be valueless
unless a stable, viable socio-
economic and political structure
can be offered as an alternative to
the Vietnamese peasants after
twenty years of hardship, prompt-
ed largely by foreign intervention
in their countryside.
Japanese invasion, civil war be-
tween nationalists and the French,
successive Western support of
authoritarian regimes in the South
and presently, military support of
the generals' junta have given
most Vietnamese peasants little
incentive for enthusiastic support
of the Saigon governments. For a
war-weary and tax-oppressed
people, the promises of the Viet
Cong-who are, after all, Viet-
namese-may be more appealing
than American bombs. The Agency
for International Development
(AID) in the State Department
has budgeted $550 million in fiscal
1967 for food and other counter-
insurgency measures, but this may
be too little and too late to offset
the late start.
The effect of the reform at-
tempts-rooting out the guerillas,
land redistribution policies, im-
provement of schools, medical sup-
plies and agricultural methods-
will not begin to be felt by the
fall elections, perhaps not for
years. The 4000 cadres being train-
ed now will attempt to settle in
some 400 of the country's 2500
villages. President Johnson asked
Congress for $55 million to in-
crease the cadres to 40,000 by the
end of the year, following plans
discussed at the Honolulu con-
ference.
IN THE FACE of these ambi-
tious plans, Sen. Vance Hartke (D-
Ind) on April 22 revealed that he
had acquired evidence to show that
the economic commitment was no
more than "eyewash."
"(David) Bell (head of AID),"
said Hartke, "speaks of a possible
increase of perhaps $15 million in
United States economic assistance
over earlier plans. Now that's pea-
nuts. We've already given $3 billion
in direct' aid to Viet Nam. And
from 1953 to 1957 we have given
$823 million in economic aid. So
this $15 is really nothing."
Hartke further challenged Am-
bassador Henry Cabot Lodge to
account for the fact that "the
administration didn't know the
possibility of a political explosion
-that the Buddhists might threa-
ten to overthrow the government.
"Whatever the explanation is,
Mr. Lodge now owes an explana-
tion to the American people."
Harkte said he would press for
Lodge to testify before the Senate
Foreign Relations Committee.
"The administration is faced now
with the problem of reassessing its
position in Viet Nam, in addressing
itself to these internal pressures."
DEAN RUSK has indicated that
the U.S. is committed to accepting
whatever government is elected
by noncoercive means next fall.
In all likelihood, such a govern-
ment would be dominated by the
Buddhists, who have a political
organization at the grass-roots
level comparable to the NLF.
Two important factions may op-
pose the Buddhists-the strong,
anti-Communist Catholic minority
and the military, many of whom
are Buddhists. Any question of the
legitimacy of the election results
would complicate American desires
to see the Vietnamese people re-
gain a greater share in their self
determination.
Columnist Joseph Kraft, cabling
from Saigon in advance of a mili-
tary coup he believes might be
staged to head off a civilian take-
over, say:
"The Vietnamese military
have been tasting power ever
since the fall of President Diem
in 1963 and they have found the
taste very much to, their liking.
For one thing, being on top gives
them material advantages
For another, by heading off a
civilian regime they head off the
possibility of peace arrange-
ments; and the soldiers are
against peace arrangements, in
part because of conviction, and
in part because their own status
as important people would be
ended with the end of the war."
IN THE NEXT six months the
United States will find itself in
the delicate position of balancing
socio-economic advances against
the escalation of the military ef-
fort. A military coup or an un-
sympathetic civilian government
that requested withdrawal of U.S.
troops would strain America's al-
ready weak rationale for inter-
vention and pose the problem of
whether the U.S. should "go it
alone."
A partial answer may be seen
developing in America's changing
attitude towards Communist
China.
Next Time: The U.S. in Asia
Rut You Can't Draft Me-I'm a Student!
r
R #1;JFy \lt
By BILL GROUT
Collegiate Press Service
MILDRED M. BUNDLE, Clerk
Local Board No. 66
Security Building
Safe Harbor, Iowa
Dear Miss Bundle:
There has been a lot of talk
here lately about drafting college
students, and I wondered if you
would do me a favor of telling me
how I stand with you. I mean,
what's my status now. I just want
to be sure, is all.
Yours truly,
Herbert L. Booking
River City College
Dear Miss Bundle:
What's this form you sent me
for? All I wanted was for you to
tell me where I stand in regards
to the call-up. I'll just consider
this a mistake, then, all right?
Expecting to hear from you. I am.
Yours truly,
Herbert L. Booking
DEAR MISS BUNDLE:
Miss Bundle, please! Why did
you send me this "Report" thing?
I'm in school, Miss Bundle, in
college-River City College. It's an
accredited college and everything,
and I'm taking a full load of six-
teen hours-all of them for credit.
I've paid my tuition and my room
and board, and I don't owe any-
body any money and my grades
are good ("B" average), and my
father .is avtern. PPase tell me
Miss Bundle, I was born in Safe
Harbor. I grew up there, went to
school there. My parents paid
taxes there. Is it because we moved
away after my Sophomore year
at Safe Harbor High? Is that why
you don't like me? Miss Bundle, I
love Safe Harbor. In fact, I cried
when my parents told me .we were
going to move. Will you please
check your records again? Will you
at least answer me? Thanking you,
I am
As ever,
Herbert L. Booking
DEAR MISS BUNDLE:
O.K. If that's the way you want
to play, I can play that way too.
If you won't answer me, then I
won't write to you any more,
either. Hoping you are miserable.
Herbert L. Booking
Dear Miss Bundle:
I've just written to the President
-yes, the President of the United
States! I told him my problem, and
I am confident that He will help
me. Prepare to lose your job Miss
Bundle. Here's seeing you a civilian
again.
Yours,
Herbert L. Booking
me. My time is getting short. I've
only two days left. On my knees,
I am,
Oh so truly yours,
Herbie Booking
DEAR MILDRED:
I've joined the Navy. Ha, ha.
Out of your clutches at last. I am,
Not truly yours,
Berbie Booking
Miss Mildren M. Bundle,
Clerk!
What do you mean by telling me
you made a mistake! You'd better
run, Mildred, because when I get
off this battleship Safe Harbor
won't be safe any more. You can
bet on that, Milly baby. Arranging
for transportation to Iowa, I am,
Soon to be truly yours,
Seaman Herbert L. Booking
USS Rough Water
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR:
Teaching Fellows: The Issues
To the Editor:
MR. HARRISON'S satisfaction
with his wages is laudatory,
but a sad comment on his own
abilities. At the present market
value of college instruction, we
perform services valued at over
$4000 a year. Mr. Harrison either
receives other renumeration or
only performs $2475 worth of serv-
ices, although the University ex-
pects more.
MR. HARRISON places an un-
due emphasis on the salary issue.
This is only one of a variety of
grievances. Under present office
allocation, most teaching fellows
find it impossible to properly
counsel students. We personally
have been forced, at times, to meet
students on the Diag or in Rack-
ham study halls in order to gain
the privacy in counseling our stu-
dents have the right to expect.
staff or students in our role as
teachers. Mr. Harrison feels com-
fortable in limbo; we do not. In
the past the University has taken
the position that, when there is
work to be performed, teaching
fellows are staff members, and
when benefits are available, teach-
ing fellows are students. Mr. Har-
rison is satisfied; we are not.
THE INEQUITIES in the teach-
ing fellow system have been pub-
licly acknowledged, both at the
University and throughout the
academic community. Vice Presi-
dent Smith has referred to our
conditions as the one real weak
spot at the University, and Russell
Kirk, in last Sunday's New York
Times Magazine, commented on
the teaching fellows' poor working
conditions.
The issues here are more than
just monetary ones and reflect
over a decade of University ne-'
wrote, on the editorial page of the
Michigan Daily, May 5, 1966.
I am ashamed that there are
people in this free country who
dare not use their own names to
present their own ideas. By apply-
ing this kind of tactic, the author
not only insults himself, but also
degrades those holding similar
views.
Similar forgery happened in an-
other local newspaper several
months ago on the same subject.
I wonder whether this is the stan-
dard tactic for people who urge the
independence of Taiwan.
I wish the editors would be more
cautious in publishing letters.
-Sing-Chin Pang
esperation
I think that 1 shall never pen
*
Dear Miss Bundle:
Oh, you're sneaky,
having a nunlisted
number. Well, there
ways to flop my mop.
all right:
telephone
are other
My father
knows the water commissioner in
1