Peace On Earth An Editorial by Leland H. Monson In the colleges of America there is a tendency to suspend the publication of yearbooks, magazines, and newspapers; to eliminate for the duration certain well established courses in music, art and literature and, to curtail the expenditure of funds for lyceum programs. The national government in its prepared curricula for servicemen has eliminated most of the work in these fields of knowledge. President H. Aldous Dixon of Weber College, however, has continued to emphasize the necessity of maintaining our original program. As a result of his support our department of music continues to present its usual number of activities. To date we have had two musical concerts, an oratorio, and plans are well under way for the presentation of the annual opera. Our department of English and speech has presented Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest. This first issue of Scribulus has been published and another will follow it. The usual number of issues of our school paper have been distributed among the students. The lyceum program has been enlarged. Only a slight curtailment in our regular curricula in music, art, and literature has been found necessary. By encouraging this program, President Dixon has shown genuine foresight. All too frequently our educators forget that leadership in the affairs of men and progress in civilization flow in part from our great streams of culture. Of necessity we must now stress technological advances in science as a means of winning the war. Instruments of destruction superior to those being manufactured by our enemies must be invented and produced. In carrying out this important mission, however, our educators should not lose sight of the fact that soon a bombardier will have loosed the last blockbuster over enemy territory, a tank driver will have driven the last tank into battle, and a gunner will have shot the last torpedo into the bowels of an enemy battleship. An armistice will have been signed and the citizens of the great democracies will write a treaty which will determine whether future citizens shall have any guarantee of permanent peace. Culture should then take her place at the peace conference, drive out Intolerance, Hatred, and Revenge, and must seat Love in a position of dignity and honor. Only as science and culture move in concert can we hope to solve our problems of war and peace. Neither of these great forces should be sacrificed to the other. Justification for our continued emphasis on art, music, and literature at Weber College is to be found in our knowledge that permanent peace will come when culture teaches man to use the technological creations of science to build rather than to destroy the world. Dreiser The Man A Criticism by Iran Watts I had just come from hearing Dreiser. They say that there is a veil between a speaker and his audience that conceals the true man. That veil can never be torn away. This night, for at least once in history, there was no veil. For two hours Theodore Dreiser talked to a thousand persons as you might talk to your intimate friend in your own home. Speaking in a low key and without use of any of the better known arts of the public performer, the author told the story of his life and drew from it such conclusions as these experiences had taught him. Life had not made him a happy man, and he did not speak happily. Such minor profanity as "hell" and "damn" occurred every ten or fifteen minutes. The whole man was drenched in bitterness. Listening and watching, one felt that this canker had come as a result of such circumstances as his father's too severe discipline, his early subjugation to the family's religion, Catholicism (which he criticized in some detail), his own high temperament, and his lack of the usual personal, prepossessing qualities. But now and again during his youth, precious brighter moments had welled up, and these apparently had sustained him. These were first his mother, and then his "pretty teacher," her faith evoking in him as he talked an island of sentiment and warmth, and finally in his young manhood in Chicago his colorful brother Paul, popular composer of the turn of the century. Chance, he said, gave him his opportunity as a writer when, utilizing an accidental meeting with a political tycoon, he talked himself into the job of reporting the national primaries. He turned this and other experiences of his life into a personal philosophy, framed only in general details. As I turn later to a consideration of what effect Dreiser's two hour self-revelation had on the concourse assembled by his great name, I can say that he succeeded in influencing favorably only a few indeed, among them me. I liked the spectacle of a great writer. I liked the story of his spiritual and physical struggles. I enjoyed for once in my life hearing a man speak out honestly and bluntly on touchy matters with regard only for the facts and not for what his listeners might think or feel. There was the storm afterwards, showing itself in apologies of sponsors, in the piecemeal, fuzzy reports of the newspapers. Of course, his use of an inductive style of organization confused nearly everyone as to his conclusions and the reporters no doubt caught only a little of what he meant. Moreover, his talk was rough and at times almost savage. Perhaps the most devastating criticism of all has been this fact: Since his appearance, no writer has been invited to speak here on a lyceum program. And it has now been several years since he appeared. This may be a two-edged criticism against both him and us. page twenty The Spirit Of 1918 By Valeta Parrington I am the spirit of 1918. I marked the end of a great war, or rather, the beginning of a greater one. Yes, I told your fathers, your mothers that they must do their part, do their part to win a war to end all wars. Their part was giving a son, a healthy, laughing, sturdy son, in return for a hardened, bitter being, or the vision of a small white cross in no-man's land, or hopes and prayers of the deep unknown. Their part was buying Liberty bonds to put the bullets in the guns and the guns in the hands of their boys. Yes, they made sacrifices, but their part was more than that, and they didn't know. They forgot to finish their job after November 11; they forgot why their sons are lying in Flander's field; why Jimmy Jones will never walk again; why Bob Smith will never see. They forgot as Wilson pleaded for a "United Nations." Yes, they forgot. But you remember. Remember, and tell those memories of Dunkirk; tell those memories from the foxholes of Bataan; tell your sons at Guadalcanal; tell those at the Solomon Islands; those in desert Africa that the peace they're fighting for will not be forgotten. And that peace for the entire world is your part. Give your sons and replace them with your daughters; buy your bonds and stamps; sacrifice your luxuries to give a soldier a living chance; write your letters and sing your songs of victory. Yes, that's your part. But more, don't forget as they did; don't forget why you are sacrificing. You are fighting for a unity of the brotherhood of man, when your sons and daughters can all breathe the fresh air of peace, and American, Japanese, Chinese, Russian, English, and German may clasp hands in a spirit of understanding, when hate can be replaced with love, and man can regard all races as brothers in justice, equality, and freedom. page twenty-one