Hawaiian Colony (continued from page 16) That first exchange of contests set the stage for the enrollment of the first Hawaiian lads at Weber college. At the urging of Castle Murphy, Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints mission president in Hawaii, four island students appeared on the Weber campus in 1931. One or two more came over the following year. Attendance was halted just prior to and during the war, but following the global conflict the island college joes, gaudy shirts and all, once again returned to Weber. Before we get ahead of the story, however, it should be told that the Weber squad and their coach, Merlin Stevenson, who had guided the Wildcats in the first two encounters with the Micks, made one more trek to the islands before the war interrupted the exchange series. They again succumbed to the wiles of the boys of the barefoot league and dropped behind in the series, two games to one. With the return to a peacetime normalcy in 1947-48 the islanders began to enroll once again at the Ogden school. That first post-war school year saw seven Hawaiians at the college; this year there are 18, nine of whom were members of the Weber grid squad. Outstanding among that first group who pioneered the Hawaiian movement to Weber were Bill Baker and Jimmy Ing. Football fans remember Baker as Weber's one armed center, who returned to Weber as coach of the Mickalums last season. Besides coaching the Micks, Baker now has interest in a floral business which ships flowers to the states. Handsome Jimmy Ing, also a former pigskin performer for the purple and white, has since married a local girl and now teaches music in Salt Lake City. Of the members of the Hawaiian colony now attending Weber, nine were members of the football team and all participated in intramural sports. Two of the boys are swimming instructors and several will play baseball this spring with the Wildcat diamond nine. Hawaiian boys on the gridiron squad, all of whom were members of the barefoot league back in Hawaii, agree with Danny Hipa, guard and former Mickalum, that Hawaiian love of sport and competition begins in organizations like the barefoot league "where everybody can fall in and play." Although, as might be expected, Hawaiian students remember swimming skills learned on Hawaii's famous beaches, few of them enjoy competitive swimming. Most of them learned to swim naturally while at the beach with their parents or friends. There are two boys at the colony, however, who have engaged in spirited swimming competition back in the islands. Big Henry Gran-berg, who ripped more than one big hole in opponents' forward walls during the football campaign, and Louis Kahoonei, glue-fingered end for the 'Cats in last season's grid wars, are both experienced swimmers and frequently take their licks in the college pool to keep in shape. According to the boys, Waikiki beach, which is the most publicized of Hawaii's many beaches, is frequented little by Hawaiians, who prefer less crowded beaches in other parts of the islands. An adeptness at football and swimming is not the only forte of the fun loving Hawaiians, however. Many of them have taken to the ski just as readily as they would a surfboard back home. Such students as Paul Chickamori and Rudolph Meyer, both of whom attended Weber last year, are developing an avid interest in "schussing" and "gelundersprunging" because of their weekly jaunts to Snow Basin with the Weber ski class. As few Hawaiian students have had the chance to ski on Mauna Loa, island ski paradise, they have the thrill of riding the hickory slats for the first time at Snow Basin. "Skiing is just like surfboard riding," Charles Baranaba, education major and president of the college dormitory, claims, "except that gravity pulls you downhill on skis and the incoming tide pushes you along the water on a surfboard." Other hobbies among Hawaiians at Weber include photography, music and collections of scantily clad Esquire beauties, the latter being found on the walls of most of the rooms in the dorm. Lehman Henry, author of "Henry," a column that appears regularly in the "Signpost," school newspaper, is the master photographer of the colony. His camera eye has caught many a scene about the college campus as well as at Snow Basin, Ogden canyon and other scenic spots near at hand. Milt DeMello and Buddy Lau, two of the "oldtimers" who came to Weber in 1947, are the outstanding judges of femininity at the dorm. Currently they hold the record for the greatest number and also the most beautiful pin-ups that adorn any room in the colony. Hawaiian students at Weber have combined melodious male voices with the rhythm of the guitar and ukulele to entertain at LDS wards and private socials throughout the Ogden area. The group, which is recognized by audiences as "refreshing" and "genuinely enter taining," mustered talent last February to give a prize winning performance in Weber's talent show. With a little grass shack for atmosphere, attired in red sashes and leis, and featuring Danny Hipa in a grass skirt, the Hawaiian group took first place among competing clubs and groups. When interest in skiing and dorm amusements pall, many Hawaiians enjoy walking back and forth along Washington boulevard to watch the people and because "it's so easy to get tired of looking at four walls all the time." Of course cold weather restricts this activity to merely walking down town and back for meals. Going to movies is a popular pastime among the Hawaiians who have an interest in most Hollywood productions that come to town. At night those who find time away from studies and singing engagements enjoy school and club dances with Weber coeds. Often friendships between coeds and Hawaiian students are extended to taking in a movie together or planning bi-monthly parties at the Bertha Eccles hall, which includes dancing, refreshments and singing. Ten of the boys, having served in the armed forces during the war, are attending school on the G. I. bill of rights. The rest depend on money from home, and cash earned by shoveling snow from walks or other jobs around the campus. Hawaiian members of the athletic teams are helped out with athletic scholarships which provide free rooms at the boys' dorm. page eighteen Deadline By BETTY McFERSON The pint-sized copy boy jumped to his feet at the shrill command of Tucker's voice. "All the clips the morgue has got on Halsey and for hell's sake hurry!" With these forceful words ringing in his ears, Fred ran swiftly in the direction of the library to obey the order. No wonder Charles Tucker is known as Hard-boiled Tuck, thought the boy as he laid a handful of clippings, filed in small oblong manila folders, on the big reporter's desk. Glancing at the faithful old clock on the north wall, Fred noticed that the deadline was not too far off. This was the time of day he liked best. Everyone was busy and everything was tense. He liked the uneven banging of the typewriters as they speeded up, creating high-pitched tones, like those of a snare drum. He liked the unexpected things that always happened in the busiest moments of a newspaper office. Now watching the city editor, Wilson Davis, chewing nervously on a cigar, scanning rapidly over a newly written story, Fred could not help wondering if all would go well and if they would make the deadline. Then suddenly the sound of the city editor's voice boomed out and Fred's heart chilled pleasur-ably. The Associated Press machines continued to pound forth the news of the nations. The typewriters shuttled back and forth rapidly as ever, but all Fred could hear was that deep, loud voice. "Tucker, this is not good! Cut it down!" With only minutes to go before deadline, Fred could not possibly see how even "Harboiled Tuck" could win this time. He moved closer to the rewrite man's desk just in case he could be of assistance in any way, but big Tuck had everything he needed on his desk. Tuck sat down and battled furiously away at his machine as the copy-boy gazed in wonderment. The typewriter willingly obeyed Tucker's masterful strokes, and the lad felt that not even time could stop this man from accomplishing what he wanted. Harboiled Tuck ripped the article from his machine and Fred stood by to do his part. This is one time he won't have to tell me to take copy to the city desk, he vowed to himself. Then he sped away with the papers in his hand. After handing the top sheet to Davis, the pint-sized copy-boy removed the carbons from the other sheets and spiked them to their correct spindles. Then he looked up at the wall. Four o'clock exactly and his gaze automatically turned to the city desk. He smiled proudly as he saw the city editor leaning back in his big chair completely relaxed. He then glanced respectfully at Tucker and murmured, "Well, we made it." page nineteen