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Maroon Tiger
May, 1968
ROBERT KENNEDY
STOPS AT ATLANTA AIRPORT
ROBERT T. SMITH, III
Sen. Robert F.Kennedy, on his way to speak at
the University of Alabama, stopped at the Atlanta
Airport for a short press conference to confirm his
seeking the Democratic nomination. Welcoming him
and two of his sons, who were with him, was an
enthusiastic and predominantly youthful crowd,
among which the Morehouse student body was well
represented.
Amid the crowd were novel posters and button
slogans, like - PAT PAULSON FOR PRESIDENT,
worn by eight evidently high-school students who
stood on their band instruments to see the Senator.
A small little boy was crying because his mother
made him carry a sign thatread, 15 YEARS BEFORE
I GO TO THE WAR. There was even a STOP THE
WAR, SUPPORT McCarthy sign.
Accompanying the Senator was Astronaut John
Glenn, who ironically stated that he had never seen
such a large group turn out just to meet him. Sena
tor Kennedy told his anxious audience that the
United States needed new leadership and asked the
help of the American Youth to help the country see
this. He seriously thought that the Georgia delega
tion would not be for him, but perhaps with the
help of those gathered there would be a way. One
reporter asked him to comment on the statement by
Gov. Maddox that he would rather vote for Fidel
Castro for President. Calmly, Sen. Kennedy
answered, “WELL, frankly, I didn’t know Mr.
Castro was in the race, but if Mr. Maddox wants to
vote for him, it’s his right to choose the best man.”
WAKE UP!
BY DAVID L. WILSON
What is a college? A dictionary defines a college
as “an incorporated school for instruction in the
liberal arts or professional studies.” Morehouse adds
to this definition a clause of its’ own: “Morehouse
builds Men.” In order to attain this goal Morehouse
uses weapons such as class and chapel-cuts. These
are two ways in which Morehouse makes me feel
as though I am a child and not a young man.
To illustrate my point, let us examine the two
weapons I mentioned. First, class-cuts. The pur
pose of class-cuts is to persuade the student to
attend his classes and to punish him if he doesn’t.
In my opinion the mere fact that a person has paid
his money to attend a school should provide him
with enough incentive to attend his classes and to
do so as he sees fit, and, furthermore, without fear
of losing credits or of being expelled. Secondly,
chapel-cuts. At Morehouse, for every five times a
student cuts chapel, he loses one hour of credit.
These credits will usually mount up until the time
at which said student is to graduate, at which
time he is called into the Dean’s office and
told that he is minus two or three (maybe more)
of the needed credits for graduation, because
he was a naughty boy in his freshman year.
And all of this happens simply because the student
quite easily found better things to do at eleven
o’clock than sit through an utterly boring chapel
which was of no importance to him unless the pro
ceedings were blessed with the presence of a Wyatt
T. Walker or Finley C. Campbell. Some will argue
that if a person comes to a school he should be wil
ling to accept the rules and regulations set down by
the schooL I would agree whole-heartedly, if
Morehouse were a monastery school for prospective
monks, “but that it ain’t.”
The time has come when a college cannot
dictate to young people who already have one
foot well inside the threshold of adulthood and
not expect them to question and, in some cases,
search for ways to dissolve said rules and regulations,
particularly those that can be considered as in
sults to the intelligence and sense of self-discipline
of the individual student.
Morehouse has presented itself as a college that
will not yield in any way to its students; at any
rate, it does more talking than anything else. It
boasts of its great student body; yet when a
faction of that student body organized a group
(Continued on Page 6)
Professor Maroon Tiger’s
FAREWELL
WALTER KENTLEY DANCY, EDITOR
Y’all old faculty folks need to get some different strokes to deal with problems in a new and effective way.
No, Dean, we do not believe that everything is all right the way they were when President Gloster wore a
crab cap. Change is the key word. It is difficult, we realize, for old habits are hard to break (also hard to take if
one is a student). We upcoming seniors would like a document, with Dean BRB’s signature, letting us in
on the secret of what we’ve got to do to get the degree and flee (no offense, but we feel much more secure with
it on paper; we know you would gladly tell us if we came to your office). Lastly, for now, chapel cuts are a Sin.
Dear, dear, Administrators: Sorry to dissappoint you, many of us are already men when we come to
Morehouse (undernourished as we are), so you will not have to take the trouble to build us. We know you tire of
useless chores that you feel that you must do for us. Fear no longer. No, we do not need compulsory classes.
If students don’t show up for classes, it may be a function of their “triflehood.” But usually it is the result
of teacher ineptitude, unbearable odors from fraternities’ Greek meals, or redundant talk. Some of us tire of the
incessant reminder from some of the overseers that we field hands should worship them for having skated
through X institution. Give yourselves a break. You men are dedicated and hardworking. We don’t want you
to get gout, anemia, apoplexy, or depressions. Let us make a few decisions.
Yes, Black Brothers, Black is Beautiful (sometimes) but learn some English so you can tell me about it;
learn some logic so you can persuade or frighten the Man, alias Charles/Chuck/whitefoiks. Since we both broke
we can keep the wild hair. May come in handy this summer. By the way — be kind to Negroes.
The folks at the Mental Hygiene Center (Infirmary) will take good care of you if you’re in need of consulta
tion; that’s their job and they’re very nice people (from experience). Make no mistake, Mr. Tucker will help
too.
Dear Mr. Tucker:
Please do not try to house again 500 folks in space for 220 -
the math won’t work. We still love you but business is business.
Students/ Fellow Slaves? / Legalized Plagiarizes? / Exam Crammers / Classcutters / Morehouse Men? /
Brothers / This is the message ...
Tell It Like It Is, Baby (says F. C. Campbell)
Ain’t No Way (says Dr. Brisbane)
Prove It (says Dr. Seymann)
Best of luck to alL
If some changes are not made on everyone’s behalf,
I will lose faith in Santa Clause.
If you are smiling or laughing, remember this: T H IN K.
SOUL ROOTS ’68
The 1968 Soul Roots music festival, presented
by Morehouse College on two nights (April 26 and
27) Sale Hall Chapel, was an assemblage of
several talented black artists. Despite the fact
that there were other campus activities, the Friday-
night performance of rhythm-and-blues had a
large and faithful audience.
Julius Lester casually presided as emcee and
was a performer. Mr. Lester, a photographer for
SNCC and an editor —photographer for Sing Out
magazine—is a new blues singer and composer. The
powerful and captivating voice of Bernice Reagon
opened the festival sometime after 8:00 p.m.
Len Chandler, an excellent singer-guitarist, follow
ed and captured the audience with a modern-day
song to the tune of “Battle Hymn of the
Republic.” “Move on over or we’ll move all
over you” was its chorus. Mable Hillery first
jolted, then won the affection of the audience with several funky-blues numbers. Buddy Moss,
who accompanied Miss Hillery, sang some blues solos and played the guitar.
Other performers scheduled for Friday were: the Key West Junkanoos, a musical group with
“a strong Afro-Cuban flavor,” Babe Stovall, a sixty year old blues, singer; Joy Leonard, a singer of
freedom songs; and Rev. Pearlie Brown, “a blind street preacher and singer.”
The program was “dedicated to Liz Spraggins, who is recovering from a serious illness, and to
the great man who wanted to feed the hungry — to ‘the drum major for justice.’ ”
SOUL '68
Soul 1968, to be put in a more lucid term, is black.
Black music, black food, black art, black dialect,
collectively, black culture or soul culture — is that
engendered by black people or black men, if you
prefer.
As a resuscitation of a Black Renaissance in the
1920’s, soul 1968 thus appears, though much too
long to be recognized.
Manifested in corner cafes, Franklin’s, Simone’s and
Redding’s music, Harlem’s art shops, and Stokley’s
language, it exists.
Greasy collards, shinebones, cornbread and butter
milk will enchant your taste.
Cadenzas of Coltrane and operas of Price will
pierce your ear.
The call is to adhere this year, 1968.
Repercussions will appear in ’69 being interpreted
as a sign of progress and sometimes decadence.
CARTHUR L. M. DRAKE