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MERCER UNIVERSITY, MACON, GEORGIA
May 18, H«i2
Volume XLII, No. 28
Carry Maioriello
EDITOR
Yvonne Keeves
BUSINESS MANAGER
Robert H. Hurt
MANAGING EDITOR
John Krueger
NEWS EDITOR
Exeeutivr Editors
HIT HIA McGLAUK
BETSY LIVINGSTON
JEANE FULWOOD
Staff Photographer
WARD LOWRANCE
Associate Editors
GRANGER RICKS
MAHTY I.AYFIELD
NELL HITCHCOCK
RONALD CARR
Feature Editor
TIM GILL
Social Editor
MARY JANE CARTER
Contributing Editors
LEE GOING
HANNA SAAD
News Staff: Karen Kennedy, Loy
I Iolrnes,.
Knight, Dick Shiver, Kaye Wells,
Dana l'oole, Ann Walker, Cynthia
Adams, Katie Koellner, Arnold Braw-
ner. Margaret Smith, Lynda Shaw,
Gayle Cox, Hugh Lawson, I.ynn
Editoriul Assistants: Judy Kennedy,
Mary Payne, Elaine Hudson, Anne
Johnson.
Business Staff: Genie Ashurst. Jean
Smith.
Sports Staff: Jack C. Fincher, Bobby
Lamb. Jere Key, Carolyn Arnold
I was very sorry indeed when a fellow staff
member informed me that many students on cam
pus regard the Cluster editorial staff as neurotic.
This adverse criticism obviously has some foun
dation. However, it is my contention that at least,
we are "neurotic activists”. We are seeking to
urouse a definite response in the intuitive minds
of our readers, lie it hate, disgust, or maybe even
fear. (One student said that we were wild (leasts!)
Moreover, one only has to consider the trite
hut, on the other hand, ludicrous definition of a
neurotic as "that peculiar breed of individual who
knows that there is a reality but cannot face up
to it." If this be true, then is not a neurotic ac
tually establishing an objective view of it?
Everyone and everything, it should be remem
bered. has a place in society—even the neurotic.
For example, if there were no murderers, what
would the Georgia Power Company do? More
over, if there were no floods, famines, explosions,
earthquakes, pestilences, hurricanes, and fires
A Neurotic Staff?
where would we all stand? Perhaps we cog
build a second story to the world as Dr. Glox
suggested in his lecture on Maithua, but I inis
ine that we would all starve anyway because
the tremendous taxes which would have to |
levied for such a project
In view of the overwhelming value of our cJt^
rated cause, we should, therefore, be praised ■
ther than st-orned. After all, is it not very postil
that potential murderers might be reading tl
column and become inspired to render their m
vices in dedication to their beloved country? W1
these vicious maniacs may even liquidate enoui
people to completely do away with the necoMii
of taxes. One does not need complex adroiniKtq
tive machinery, the main cost of our govemnvn
in a small country. (Also, small countries hat
fewer bureaucrats or professional civil eervsrtx
Future American taxpayers, arise! Harken to n
voice or forever in your ruin lie! . . . Wait . .
Help! I’m only joking. Help!
LARRY MAIORIELLO
The Purpose Of The Honor Council
Mercers Honor Council has been the subject
of many comments, arguments, discussions and
Cluster editorials in recent years—some have
criticized the Council for being too harsh, some
for being too autocratic and some for being too
soft. Apparently the critics have been more di
verse than consistent. Perhaps this is because
there is a wide field open to criticism.
But before any constructive criticism can be of
fered here it is necessary to ask what the Honor
Council is, and what it should fie. The Honor
Council should lie a "something" that would oper
ate to promote honor—that is, an innate sense
of what is right and true; it should encourage un
supervised integrity (for by definition integrity
rnnnot be coerced); and above all the Council
should lie a body whose members, methods, mo
tives and means are above reproach.
The Honor Council has failed on all counts.
The Honor Council is a group of monitors who
attempt to enforce what we call the Honor Sys
tem. A greater misnomer could not lx* imagined
lor there seems to be very little honor in the
system Academic dishonesty is increasing—judg
ing by the recent increase in (unreported) cases
before the Council.
As dishonor becomes more prevalent the func
tion of the Honor Council becomes less that of
encouraging honor and more that of enforcing its
rulcsi and convicting the violators, obtaining the
convictions by any means—some less than hon
orable. And as the Council goes farther afield
to enforce, the system is no longer an honor sys-
tern, but rather an informer system. And while
someday all cheating may be eliminated because
half the student body fears that the other half
is watching it, we will then find that all honor
is gone-—replaced by fear, suspicion and guilt.
Coerced honesty is nothing more than dormant
dishonesty.
While the situation is still far from deplorable,
the sis-ds have been sewn. The System and the
Council instead of being respected and looked up
to. have liecome things to fear and hide from,
!localise of the mysterious ways they move, cloak
ing all with secrecy. Then-in lies the vice.
It may sound naive, but where there is real
honor, is there a need for secrecy? Perha|>s if the
System were better understood by everyone, ami
IH-rhaps if the Council were more open in its
actions, and iierhatw if the Council's own rules of
procedure were followed in letter and in spirit,
and perhaps if the Council cast an occasional
i lit respective eye, the system might more nearly
approach a true honor system—one of mutual
honor and n*spect, rather than one of fear and
loathing.
If every Mercerian this summer were to think,
not about how to enforce or to circumvent fhe
System, hut about how to develop real honor and
integrity under fhe System we might be on the
right track to an honor system that would work.
LEE GOING
The Changing Scene
If was Sunday morning. I had not slept well the
night before and I had a headache. As I dressed
for church I thought to myself how nice it would
be to find a nice quiet island about three thou
sand miles Irom the nearest inhabitants and
there live in |x-aceful solitude for the next fifty
or sixty years undisturbed by the sub-specie of
animal that we laughingly refer to as the “hu
man" race—as you can see, I was looking forward
to a great day that Sunday—the only reason I
did not crawl back into bed and forget about it
all was my good old Baptist upbringing—habit
is a hard thing to break. As it was I took as long
as I could to get to church. When I arrived the
service had already started so I slipped into a
pew at the rear.
It wds a beautiful day and the sun was shining
through the stained glass wnidows and casting a
pink radiance on the area near-by. In the back
ground the organist was softly playing. In front
of me a little golden haired girl was sitting with
her father.
The Minister entered the pulpit and began to
speak but my attention was centered on the fa
ther and the little girl. She was about four years
old. and, standing on the pew bench, she was just
tall enough to lean over and hug her father’s
neck and kiss him on the cheek. Then with her
little fingers she would trace jratterns on his
cheek. From time to time the father would turn
and with the deepest tenderness act as if he were
going to bite off her fingers but end by kissing
them.
The Pastor droned on with his announcements
hut my attention was drawn elsewhere. Across
(he aisle from me sat a young, very soon to be,
mother. I looked at her beaming, radiant face
and in it I caught a glimpse of a life and beauty
that no artist could ever paint
Now the congregation was singing—I listener),
hut only vaguely. Seated a couple of rows in front
of me were a boy and girl around seventeen.
Every once in awhile they would look at each
other very tenderly as if they were the only two
people who existed in the whole world and their
eyes seem to be saying “I Love You" and as the
people sang I noticed that the young couples
hands were entwined under the hymn book.—Will
people ever become so old or so sophisticated that
they cannot remember the sweetness and won
derfulness of first love? Seated next to me was
an elderly lady. Her hair was white, her face was
wrinkled with age, and her hands were red and
rough but the intentness with which she listened
held my attention. Occasionally her eyea would
fill with tears and one, now and then, would es-
ca|x- and flow down her cheek.
Now the choir arose and almost aa one they
sang. I was so lost in thought that I did. not hear
anything and was surprised when I found myself
standing for the benediction. As I left the Church
I tried to think of something the Minister had
said but couldn't and this bothered my conscience
because, I asked myself, “how can a man com
mune with God unless he listens to the preacher?”
• : • X . '
Special CluesWr Photo
These Are The Stacks
As a s|x-cial service to Mercer’s graduating seniors, the Cluster lias
managed to procure this exclusive picture of a part of Mercer's closed
stacks. Since most Mercerians have not had the opportunity to see wlut
library stacks really look like, the Cluster makes this picture available
so that no member of this year's senior class need leave our cam pm
without ever knowing how library slacks look.
A quick perusal of the above photo will not show anything danger
ouB, repugnant or of a classified nature in the stacks. Our reporter tes
tifies that the main content of them is nothing more insidious than many
volumes of books and slight volumes of dust. Then why are they so car*
fully guarded from the students? No one really knows. It is probably
an old Mercer tradition. A tradition that has outlived its usefulness—
if it ever was useful.
We hope that this tradition will soon he abandoned, but until then
in the best interests of Mercer students, the Cluster will occasionally
print similar photos so that no one on campus will have to say they hav*
never soon the stacks.
EXAM SCHEDULE
The exam schedule for the ^spring quarter is as follows:
WEDNESDAY -
1st period classes—9:00 12:00 a.m.
2nd, period classes—2:00-5:00 p.m.
THURSDAY
3rd period classes—9:00-12:00 a.m.
4th period classes—2:00 5:00 p.m.
* ' FRIDAY
5th period classes 8:00 11:00 a.m.
6th period classea—12:00-3:00 p.m,
7th period classes—3:00-6:00 p.m. - V -
Ali night classes will meet at their regular clam time lor 1
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