Scanned image of the page. Keyboard directions: use + to zoom in, - to zoom out, arrow keys to pan inside the viewer.

Page Options

Download this Issue


Something wrong?

Something wrong with this page? Report problem.

Rights / Permissions

This collection, digitized in collaboration with the Michigan Daily and the Board for Student Publications, contains materials that are protected by copyright law. Access to these materials is provided for non-profit educational and research purposes. If you use an item from this collection, it is your responsibility to consider the work's copyright status and obtain any required permission.

June 19, 1971 - Image 4

Resource type:
Michigan Daily, 1971-06-19

Disclaimer: Computer generated plain text may have errors. Read more about this.

The All-American cocktail party

F YOU had to describe the number one game
of suburbia and the Beautiful People (BP) it
would have to be the All-American cocktail party.
I know, as a member of the "Youth Culture",
America should be spelled with a "K" and Cocktail
should be censored lines. But that doesn't have to
be true. The first cocktail party I attended made me
think that maybe, just maybe, the BP had some-
thing going.
When you first walk into one of those things,
there is a slight pause as you realize that most
of the people there are complete strangers.
Well, almost - I had seen the president of the
Belvedere Construction Company on the late night
movie, and I had met another person about a week
before, but for the most part, the people there were
total strangers, and they were stranger than any
of the people wandering State Street in the middle
of the afternoon.
BUT ENOUGH. This was the first party I had
been to in a long time where there was no dope. I
mean, the sweet smell of marijuana was noticeably
absent. Maybe some of the people smoked when they
went off in pairs to look over the luxurious Detroit
River, or show off each other's boats. The most I
could do was pretend that the smallest boat in the
marina had been given to me by an English duke
who wanted to marry me.
The first person I met was a man in advertising.
His wife was off gallivanting and making small talk
with someone else. He wanted to meet me, he said,
"because you don't look like the type who fre-
quents this type of get-together too often." I ad-
mitted my ignorance of the circuit, but appeared
willing to learn.
WE TALKED about Howdy Doody and Buffolo
Bob, who was also there. Nothing detrimental to
anyone's character. It was much too early, and nei-
ther of us had made it to the bar yet. So, in the
usual let-me-get-you-a-drink, why-don't-you-sit-
down, an evening of pleased-to-meet-yous began.
Twenty minutes and two drinks later, he intro-
duced me to the bachelor who had designed the
setting for the party. I didn't see anything unusual
in the room. I mean there were orange lights and
orange tablecloths on the seven or eight round tables
circling the room, but I didn't see anything that
looked like it had the designer's touch.
THE DESIGNER explained that he had been in
Detroit for about three days and then he was go-

ing to Philadelphia to design a party for M i k e
Douglas. After the name drop, I mumbled some-
thing about how exciting his life must be, and
he responded with how lonely it gets - Time to
meet someone else, but I remember thinking that
I should write to Douglas and ask him not to pay
this guy until after his setting was designed. I also
thought that I could match orange lights with
orange tablecloths much cheaper,
Jay came over, in his red satin suit and asked
how many drinks I had had. We had agreed that
we would have two drinks and then call it quits. We
both had had two, and we both were ready for ano-
So with drinks in hand, the first man introduced
us to the person who had drawn the Howdy Doody
poster for the Save Orchestra Hall benefit. At last
- someone with hair long enough so that he at least
looked like he could have lived in Ann Arbor for
over a month and a half.
We discussed, like in a seminar, the value of the
graphic arts versus the written art. In other words,
whether his drawings did more the publicize and get
across the Howdy Doody Show that did writing.
BY THIS TIME, I didn't want a joint any more.
Alcohol was doing just fine. But the potato chips
and pretzels only made me want to drink more.
Gin and tonic is a nice drink. It goes down the
esophagus much like dope goes down the trachea.
Anyway, then it was time to toast the guest of
honor. The ad man who I had met earlier proposed
a toast - "To Buffalo Bob." Every one drank, al-
though why they needed a chance to refill their
glasses is beyond me. In fact, most of the people
were feeling the effects of their drinks. It was pleas-
The rest of the evening was more conversation.
"I like the suit your husband? was wearing, or is
he your date?"
"No, he's a friend. I like him."
"THAT'S NICE - his suit is as admirable as your
cleavage." Time to meet more people.
And so it went, until it was time to drive. Three
drinks and two cokes later, it was time to leave. As
we were walking down the steps from the party,
we ran into a group of people, much the same age as
us. They had been enjoying a group called The
Werk who were playing at the Upper Deck. They
gave us the stares as if to say, "You're one of them."
And for a night, it had been fun . . . being one of
them, instead of one of us.

Welcome, freshmen-
to the Monheyhouse
IIlISHMAN orietation has bgun, bringing to campus tw
faces and unspoiled visions. uncomplicated souls and in-
nocent eetations.
I think of my orientation, of three days of confusion and
compulsion, and I know that the incoming freshmen I see on
campus now must share my former thoughts to some extent.
They wander timidly among the compartments of the multi-
versity. They gaze at icons. They gather glimpses of reality in-
But they are propelled by an overwhelming freshness; they
have collected no tarnish on their lofty dreams. And thus, for
wisdom, for tempered bliss.
"These are the best days of your lives, students, use them
well," the well-meaning spokesmen for academia say.
"YES, YES, we will. We promise to study, to be spontaneous,
to be excited by our classes, to meet life-long friends, to seek
hope and cherish opportunities to change," affirm the newcomers
to the cycle.
But they in their innocence cannot see what lies beyond the
clouds, They wonder, will Asian Studies be superior to Archaeol-
ogy? Will Shakespeare surpass Philosophy? How does Physics
compare to Geology?
And they know not that in two years physics will meet
geology and the universe that is their education will churn
in another direction, charting an uneven course, but always
pounding, pounding toward tomorrow.
FOR THAT is what the University can be. A c o n s t a n t
throbbing, pounding, an incessant knocking.
"Yes, yes, what is it?" An anguished shriek comes from
some of them.
"Oh, it's nothing really. I am your collective unconscious.
I motivate you to dissipate your energy, to assimilate, to become
an amorphous mass of college students who are uncertain about
their future and aren't sure whether to stay in school or leave,
who don't seem to derive much satisfaction from their classes
but generally like the idea of school."
And so it is. Another crop of eager freshmen stand ready to
enter the University, to become enmeshed in a sea of questions.
Questions, questions, questions, and the sad thing, I think, the
sad thing it, they never dare.
But what if they did? Dare to disturb the universe and
what will happen to you? If you don't come through the assembly
line turnstiles, the rotaries of life, will you be any different, and
wiser, an lota more alive?
It hardly seems that way.
FOR THE University offers a framework in which to grope,
a cage with elastic walls, and the students jump up and down
as much as they please but hardly make a dent in The Way
Things Are.
Yet in the process, all these nebulous accomplishments come
true. In the midst of frisbee frolics and Prufrock penchants, of
silly sentiment and pained perspicacity of wistful wisdom and
deferential dialogue, the hazy innocence of frieshmaninity doesn't
always die - there are many Peter Pans. And there are many
stars lying in wait.
Welcome to the Monkeyhouse
i15ht -

Letters to The Daily


To The Daily:.
I GREATLY appreciated the re-
cent article by Lynn Whitnall de-
scribing our informal seminars on
homosexuality. Let its hope that in
the near future the University 'ill
initiate some regular, c r e d i t
courses dealing with this import-
ant, if complex, area of human be-
havior from an interdisciplinary
-viewpoint. A host of schools now
have such courses i UCLA, South-
ern Illinois University, Brandeis,
University of Nebraska, etc.)
Your readers may se interested
in knowing that Idaho !) recently
became the third state to elimi-
laws dealing with private, consens-

uat homosexual behavior (effective
Jan. 1, 1972:. Connecticut's new
code goes into effect in October; Il-
linois abolished its old law in Jan-
uary 1962. Colorado, Oregon, and
Hawaii may soon follow suit.
Probably the most significant
and authoritative public document
recommending changes in social
policy is the 1969 Task Force Re-
port on Homosexuality oh the Na-
tional Institute of Mental Health
(Hooker Report). A very limited
number of copies are avaslable
from the Office of Religious Affairs,'
Michigan Union.
Lloyd W. Putnam
Educational Director, ORA
June 18

The wrong box
To The Daily:
I RETURNED two new books to
the University Cellar and w as
given a "used" price for them
since the backs were cracked.
When I went back to buy the rest
of the teem's books, I found the
returned books had been placed
on sale as new. The guy who
bought them "used" explained
that they had been put in the
"wrong" box, and that I shouldn't
be defensive about the situation.
Aren't they supposed to h e I p
--Joe Borda
June 7

"Lives really ARE cheap in
Southeast Asia . '
420 Maynard Street, Ann Arbor, Mich.
Edited and managed by students at the
University of Michigan
Editorials printed in The Michigan Daily express the individual
opinions of the author. This must be noted is al reprints.
Saturday, June 19, 1971 News Phone: 764-0552

Back to Top

© 2024 Regents of the University of Michigan