Barroom Essay By Jerry Carlile Draw two more please! You remember Eddie Stanley, don't you, Mac? Used to write stories and poetry for the school magazine. Yeh, that's him quiet guy, homely as an old Indian. Well, he and I went in the navy at the same time. Our names both started with S-t, so after boot we were transferred together from R.T.U. in 'Dago to Y.B.I., and stuck on the same ship, the Jameson, APO 001. We were buddies all the way through. Then we got hit in the Philippines and had to go over the side; I never saw him again until yesterday. Met him in here right down on that end stool he was sitting. He hasn't changed much. Remember how quiet he used to be all the time; nobody ever bothered much about him.Funny thing, too, because after I got to know him, he was quite a colorful guy. He was always going to write a story and send it in to a magazine as soon as he found a plot. Everything that'd happen, he'd sit and figure out how it could be used as a plot. One day at Guam, a seagull seasoned the eggs on the Old Man's hat. Eddie said probably it'd be a good idea to enlarge the incident and write a story. Have an old captain hunting for years for a certain seagull that had plastered him one day. But all the time Eddie'd think up reasons why it wouldn't make a good story, like for that one too fantastic, he says. How could this old barnacle know which seagull out of all the seagulls in the Pacific he was after? Now, I ain't no writer myself, but it sounded like it could be worked out some way. Say, you've pulled liberty in Honolulu, haven't you? Well, did you ever get over to the Waikiki Bar? Nice place lots of atmosphere. You sit back on a sort of screened off patio and look out at the ocean and Royal Hawaiian Hotel and Waikiki. There's a couple of trees with those pink flowers on 'em right outside. They light the place with candles so's it's romantic, and charge an extra nickel on every bottle of beer because they got fish nets strung under the overhead. There was a chick over there who played an organ with one hand while she played a piano with the other. She was really talented. All at the same time, she'd play this organ with her feet you know how they go the piano with her right hand, take your tip with her left, and catch the name of your request. Yeh, she was all right. Well, Eddie figured out that a good story would be to have some boot go up and request a tune and no tip, you know what I mean. He waits awhile, and no tune either, so he thinks maybe she didn't understand, and asks again. This goes on 'til he gets P.O.'d and slings an ash tray at a waiter. But this plot, says Eddie, don't amount to anything but a skid row brawl in a ritzy dive. "Don't have any meat," he says. Well, like I said before, I ain't no writer, but there's an awful lot of stories about brawls which really make money for somebody. Eddie was quite a boy for ideas all right. It gets awful hot in the Mariannas, you know, so we used to sleep on deck. If we slept below, our sack'd be wringing wet by morning, and the compartment got to smelling like an old pair of sweat socks. We'd lay up there and look at the stars and talk about school days. One night Eddie told me about how he'd fell in love with this beautiful beast maybe you remember her Marilyn Grant she was vice president of the student body when we were seniors. He never did get nerve enough to ask her for a date, but he loved her "from a distance," as he said it. He got a big idea; was gonna do a lot of research, ask people about her, what she was like when she was a kid, and figure out what had made her turn out so wonderful. The book would be in two parts the first part, the story of this author who fell in love with a gal, like Eddie did, from a distance, and went to work and did a lot of research on her life. It'd tell how he went to live in the neighborhood she'd lived in and talked to the people she'd known as a child. The second part would be the story her biography as he wrote it. And the big surprise would come at the end of the biography when it'd turn out that he married her, after all. You know, Eddie named the brightest star in the sky "Marilyn" and he used to sit and look at it. I'd come up on deck and he'd point it out. "There she is. There's Marilyn," he'd say. But about the book he said there wasn't any big lesson to teach in a book like that, and there always had to be a big lesson to make people live better after reading a whole book. Speaking of Eddie's love life, when we were in 'Dago we used to go over to the Hollywood you know, (Concluded on page 24) Page sixteen By RABE and STEPHENS The Scribulus staff offers proof that Weber College is synonomous with beautiful girls in the form of Joyce Barnes, a freshman who graduated from Weber high last spring. She is a business major, but most of her associates think of her as a girl with unlimited pep and a contagious smile. Joyce is small, petite, and has dark brown hair. Not one to shun her lessons, she still finds time to take part in many college activities. Page seventeen