iii'In iarsn
fr g lp
IT'S 2 A.M. ON A SCHOOL NIGHT.
The dimly lighted room reeks
like someone tried to cover up
the stale smell of a dirty ashtray with
bourbon and Old Spice potpourri.
"All right now, gentlemen, start
your engines and give it up for
Lisa," says the DJ in his best used-
car-salesman voice. With Whites-
nake's "Here I Go Again" blaring_
over the speakers, Lisa* struts out
from behind the red polyester cur-
tains. For the next five minutes, she F
will take off her clothes for a bunch"
of sweaty, lonely guys, half of whom
are no doubt named Earl.

educate college students and give them the facts, I
think they'll fall in line."
While College Republicans remind students
what Clinton hasn't done, College Democrats will
explain what a Republican Congress has done.
"We're concentrating on college loans and the
cuts Republicans are trying to make," Geary says. "If
we do not keep the White House and take back the
Congress, a lot of kids won't be going back to college
or starting college in '97."
But the real facts come
from the Libertarians,
says Jeff Kanter, Ohio
regional chair.
"The Democrats and the
Republicans pass programs
that are good for political
hay," Kanter says. "We're
more interested in the truth.
Let everybody know: Get it
all on the table."

Geary says it may seem like Clinton isn't addressing
specifically youth issues.
"Clinton has not talked about being the educa-
tion president," he says. "He wakes up every morn-
ing and is the education president.
"No one anticipates a primary challenge at
this point. If there were, I still think we'd be
behind Clinton."
One who would like to be a contender is Bruce

Daniels. "His primary message, which could be of
great interest to many students, is that President
Clinton has not held strongly to the liberal princi-
ples of the Democratic Party," says Mark Baldwin,
Daniels' press secretary.
And Libertarians? Students should favor the
Libertarians because they're so darn brainy, says
Kanter, who is also Libertarian candidate Irwin
Schiff s campaign manager.
"Most professional
politicians are very
dependent on their
advisers," he says. "Liber-
tarians come from a very
scholarly background.
Once you get involved
with Libertarians, you
start to think, 'Thank
God they're on our side
- they're so smart.'

It should be a
great show as,
once again,
the pols try to
peg our elu-
-perat-ingly'

licensel
To Sill

And all she can think about is
that philosophy test she has in seven
hours.
With new films like Showgirls
and Strip Tease glamorizing the
world of strippers, the perennially
taboo subject is on America's
mind. Most parents would go bal-
listic if they found out their
daughter was putting herself
through college as an exotic
dancer. But some students see it as
a fast way to pay tuition.
"Hell no, [my parents] don't
know," says Lisa, an Austin Com-
munity College student who dances
in Austin, Texas. "They think I have
three jobs."
Kim*, another dancer in Austin,
says that although the money is
good, the stigma of exotic dancing
can be a problem - when her
boyfriend first found out about her
job, he broke up with her. "He got
over it, though," she says.

"r/ got a great
now Job, Dad."
Heidi Mattson, a '92 graduate of
Brown U. and author of Ivy League
Stripper, paid her college bills by
stripping at Foxy Lady, a nightclub
in Providence, R.I. Mattson says on
a good night she earned $900 in
eight hours.

"It wasn't so horrible," Mattson
says. "It was a practical option, and
a lot of my financial crisis was taken
care of in six weeks."
As one might guess, however,
there are some risks that go along
with the large amounts of money to
be made in exotic dancing.
"One time I was doing a table
dance, and this guy comes up
behind me and grabs my breast,"
Lisa says in a tone of genuine disbe-
lief. "I had a woman offer me
$2,000 to go home with her."
"I'm not planning on dancing
much longer," she says. "I'm saving
for massage therapy school. This is
not a long-term thing."
Lisa hears the cue for her next
turn on stage. The song is "Here I
Go Again."
Name has been changed.
Jason Spencer, U. of Texas, Austin
Photo: Kim Brent and Alyssa Banta/
U. of Texas, Austin
Ger Sahn, U. of Massachusetts,
Amherst, contributed to this story

YOU CAN DRINK FROM A U.
of Miami beer mug or shot
glass. You can wear that
famous Miami orange from head to
toe. You can protect yourself from
the hot Florida sun with a Miami
umbrella. But there's no way you
can plant your cheeks on a Hurri-
cane toilet seat.
Official licensing of college logos
is big money for schools and big fun
for fans, but some products step
over the line.
"We'll turn down anything
that's in bad taste," says Charles
Canlfield, director of licensing at
Miami. "We've tried to steer away
from things that depict us as the
stereotypical 'Suntan U.' And we
turned down a request to put our
name on toilet seats."
Budd Thalman, sports informa-
tion director at Penn State U., says
the Nittany Lions, too, think care-
fully before entering merchandise
deals. "We shy away from attitude
T-shirts and anything regarded as in
bad taste," he says.
About $2.5 billion of licensed
college merchandise is sold annually
in the United States. About $100
million of that goes' directly to the
schools as royalty fees - revenue
generally earmarked for use as ath-
letic scholarships.
Canfield says Miami joined the
licensing game in January 1984 and

grossed just $6,000 its first fiscal
year. But by last year, Miami's
licensing proceeds had exploded to a
whopping $4.5 million.
The U. of Michigan reported-
ly generated the most licensing
revenue last year - nearly $5.8
million.
Miami operates its licensing
agreements independently, but
many schools prefer to hire licensing
agents. The Collegiate Licensing
Corp., which handles more than
150 schools, is the largest.
Although there is big money to
be made through licensing, not all
schools are making the big bucks.
Eastern Illinois U. signed on with
CLC this summer to protect its
name rather than to generate huge
sums of cash.
"There's a real misconception
that all schools are out to make piles
of money," says Steve Rich, EIU
assistant athletic director. "Licensing
allows us to control the way our
name is used."
Unlike some of the larger
schools, any revenue generated
through EIU licensing is funneled
directly to general academic scholar-
ships and to a growing women's
athletic program.
"We're not going to break the
bank with this," Rich says. "But we
know our name won't be used in a
way that goes against our attitudes."
Does this mean no EIU Panther
toilet seats? Only time will tell.
Tony Hansen, Michigan State U.
Photo by Somer Simpson, U. of Florida

What have you
done for me
lately?
Back to the issues. Col-
lege students are fiercely
interested in issues ranging
from scarcity of natural
resources to scarcity of cam-
pus parking. Which ones are
candidates targeting?
Republicans are going
after the issues college-age
voters are most concerned
about, says Galli.
Which are?
"Welfare reform, reform
of entitlement programs,
balancing the budget."
Oh.
"MTV doesn't speak
fairly for our generation,"
he adds.
Julia Herz, campaign
manager for Republican
candidate Tom Shellen-
berg, clarifies further.
"Tom feels that if we
don't address the bal-
anced budget issue, when
our generation is his age,
we won't have a nation
left," she says.
That's a little more like
it. As for the incumbent
party, College Democrats'

The greatest
show on Earth
Not very specific, but
that's about all the issue-
addressing going on right
now. However, the fun
has just begun. Maybe
Colin Powell will put out
a rap album. Maybe Bob
Dole will put out a rap
album. Whatever hap-
pens, it should be a great
show as, once again, the
pols try to peg our elusive,
yet exasperatingly desir-
able, demographic.
But that's their job.
Our job is to make sure
we don't settle for mere
media bites. Let them
entertain us, but make
sure they're answering to
our needs.
As Rock the Vote's
Batra says: "Voting is not
something that is sup-
posed to be trendy."
It's fun to watch the
fireworks, but it's even
better when you helped
spark them.
Bonnie Datt, associate editor,
is registered Independent
(herfiends and family told
her to).

Covering your ears won't make elections go away.


D.C. summer
camp(agn)
Fold. Staple. Mail. Fold. Staple. Mail.
Lyrics to the latest techno hit? No,
it's the instructions Libertarian presi-
dential candidate Rick Tompkins gives
to his campaign volunteers - "a num-
ber of little things that are integral to
any campaign."
Many college students spent this
summer doing just that, and more.
Melanie Asher, a junior from Duke U.
who volunteered on the Clinton '96
campaign, says she's always been
involved in politics. Her parents con-
stantly had the McLaughlin Group on
the boob tube. "Living in D.C. makes
you really politically conscious," the

self-proclaimed ardent Democrat says.
Asher's "in" to the world of politics
was her 26-year-old sister, who worked
on Clinton's'62 campaign. When her
sister was doing "advance" (making
arrangements with media before
appearances), Asher volunteered her
time three days a week, shuffling over
to the campaign office after working
full-time in a law office.
Asher attended the Democratic
National Congress' presidential gala in
June. She had the nonglamorous job of
usher but nevertheless says it was
thrilling. Although she has yet to meet el
presidente, she says it would be an
honor.
Unlike Asher, Georgetown U. senior
Heather Lauer met the man whose cam-
paign she volunteered for: Bob Dole.
Unfortunately, it was only the industry

standard meet-and-greet -- a quick
handshake and hello.
Lauer worked Monday through Sat-
urday, Sto 60 hours a week, with
about 20 other students in Dole's D.C.
headquarters. Hailing from Idaho, Lauer
was excited by the opportunities avail-
able in the capitaL "[it] opened my eyes
to a lot of different things," she says.
"It's a great experience."
Besides being a fun or (remember
staple duty?) at least different experi-
ence, working on a campaign provides
insight no poli sd class can. It also can
help you decide if the.world of politics is
for you and if so, where in the world you
belong.
Kevin Geary, president of College
Democrats and a senior atSt. Joseph's
College in Pennsylvania, knows from his
experience working on campaigns that

he wants to be in politics, but not as a
politician. At least not for a long time,
he says. "I might work on a campaign
tore-elect, or something involved with
campaigns."
Lauer says she got involved because
se's interested in the political process.
"i's never the same," she says. "There
are general rues--campaigns have
learned from their mistakes, and they
know what'sright and what's wrong -
but the process changes from day to day."
She noticed the job attracts a cer-
tain personality: quick-paced and
detail-oriented. "I enjoy the pressure
and the stress. It's constantly changing.
"People ask, 'What do you do?' It's
so hard to say. It's whatever needed to
be done 10 minutes ago."
John Youngs, U. of Connecticut

12 U.. Magaziie * November 1995

November 1995 e 17