CRIMSON AND WHITE
VOL. XLH, NO. 11
THE MILNE SCHOOL, S.U.N.Y., ALBANY, N. Y.
JUNE 23, 1972
fetting Involved © RLP. ALEXANDER GRAHAM BELL DeathofaNewspaper
Who would make the best Presi-
dent of the United States next year?
Most major candidates have said
that they are opposed to the war in
Viet Nam, but which one has come
up with teal answers to the other
problems this country faces? I feel
that Senator George McGovern has
shown himself to be the most quali-
fied candidate for the Democratic
nomination, and I urge you to have
a say in his election, even though
you cannot vote.
Ever since McGovern has been in
the Senate, he has spoken out pub-
licly against the Viet Nam war. He
now pledges that United States’
troops will be withdrawn from Viet
Nam within ninety days after he
takes office, He will not require
the release of all American prison-
ers of war before the withdrawal
because he believes that the North
Vietnames will release them only
after United States’ troops have
gone.
McGovern also sees the necessity
of reducing the tremendous spend-
ing on unnecessary super defense
systems. He has sponsored an enor-
mous amount of legislation in the
areas of conservation and pollution
control. In addition, McGovern has
always fought for civil rights legis-
lation in the Senate and has worked,
during the primaries, to see that
delegations to the national conven-
tion will include women and minor-
ity group members.
There are other important issues
too numerous to list here. McGov-
ern’s stands on these issues can be
found in magazines and newspapers.
However, many people are still un-
aware of the candidate’s qualifica-
tions.
Here lies the perfect opj ortually
for Milne students to truly
effective. I urge you omibee
come familiar with the issues and
different solutions and choose your
candidate. Help the McGovern (or
another) campaign with time or
money, Talk to your parents, teach-
ers, friends, and older brothers or
sisters who have a vote. If you per-
suade one person and win one vote
for your candidate, then you have
already had an influence on the
election.
Imagine the increasing effect -that
the government will have on your
life within the next four years,
Wouldn’t it be worth it to “get in-
volved” in this year’s presidential
election. —Larry Levine
Trial?
Four Milne students were brought
to trial yesterday in Superior Court
of the State of Confusion, on charges
of trying to impersonate newspaper
reporters.
In_an historic decision delivered
by Superior Court Justices Steve
Benko and Merle Bachman. The
four were handed the harsh sen-
tences of one year of hard labor as
editors of next year’s C&W. Nina
Feltman, alias Rocco Vaselino, the
leader of the organization, was ord-
ered to be Editor-in-Chief, while
Marta Rockwood was made feature
editor, Irv Dunn, sports editor, and
Elizabeth Freedman, news editor.
it was late one chilly winter Sunday morning, that one blessed day of
tke week when I can lie sleeping tranquilly in my bed until noon or even
later if I choose. That particular Sunday, my parents out, I had chosen to
to exactly that, and I was dozing luxuriously, blissfully off in the land of
fantasies, wrapped up under piles of quilts and blankets, Ah, girl of my
dreams, come closer, closer .. . Wait, dream-girl! Why are you crying?
Stop it! What’s the matter? Oh, I hear, it’s that noise, that horrible noise,
what the devil is that noise?
I start tossing and turning, trying to escape | the sound, covering my : ars,
and then suddenly burst awake, I hear: Riiinnngggg! Rrrrriiiiii
The telephone; Oh no, oh my God, who knows how many times it’s rung
already, I'd better hurry! So I fling’ off my covers, spring to my feet, bound
into my parents’ bedroom, and dive for the receiver, banging my elbow and
stubbing a toe in the process.
A syrupy feminine voice responds at the other end, “Why hello, sir, and
congratulations! You are one of the lucky few who have been chosen from
our computer to win free, yes, absolutely free, a one-year subscription to
the world famous publication Scandal Magazine. Yes, you will receive at
no cost twelve big issues of Scandal which will give you candid and author-
itative insights into the private lives of all your favorite Hollywood motion
picture stars. Isn’t that thrilling? Gee, sir, I sure do admire your luck.
Well, I guess we all just can’t be so fortunate. Now, may I please have
your name and address so we can immediately start selling—I mean, sending
you your big bonus prize issues of Scandal?”
“Gosh, Miss, that sounds terrific. O.K. My name is Mr. Ernest T. Bass,
and I reside at the Senior Room of the Milne School in Albany. Now when
will Scandal start appearing on my front doorstep?”
“W-E-I-1, Mr. Bass, as soon as you send us a small shipping and handling
charge of oh, say eighteen dollars, we'll begin immediate delivery.”
“Eighteen dollars?”
“Yes, sir, just for shipping and handling, of course, You know how postal
rates are getting these days.”
“Boy, I sure do. Why, it’s almost a crime.”
“Well, I certainly agree with you there, Mr. Bass. I wish all of our
clients were as sympathetic with our poor, victimized financial situation
and philanthropic, unselfish intentions as you are. I’ll expect a check from
you then, right?”
“Terrific. Now, Miss, what are you doing tonight when you get off duty?”
“I beg your pardon, Mr, Bass?”
“T said, what are you doing tonight? After a long, hard, honest, altrustic
day’s work picking out random numbers and calling them on the phone,
disturbing people’s privacy and swindling them out of their paychecks, I'd
say you need a little relaxation. With the kind of mental and verbal prosti-
tution you're involved in now, maybe you'd like to get right down 40 some
physical degeneracy. Your place or
— CLICK —
“I sure took care of her,”
“Practice makes perfect.”
Elbow scraped, toe bruised and
inflamed, and any plan to sleep the
morning away now utterly wrecked,
I prepare for my morning shower,
turning on the water, adjusting the
heat, stripping my clothes off. But
just as I am about to step under
the stream of water, I pause, feeling
a zit on my nose, and stop to pop it.
© happy pimple! For when I am
once more ready to begin my
shower, Riiinnnggg! goes the tele-
phone!’ A feeling of righteousness
and joy comes over me. “I have
foiled it this time! I thad‘not even
one foot wet when it rang, thanks
to my ache,” I think as I stride
triumphantly stark naked toward
that obnoxious black box. “Hello!”
I proclaim, picking up the receiver.
“Hello, Steve, this is Mom. Listen,
I noticed that the front walk was
awfully slippery this morning when
T left. Would you be a dear and try
to chop some of the ice off this
afternoon so nobody hurts them-
selves? I'll be home in time to make
dinner.”
The conversation terminates. I
relish the sweet taste of my.victory
over technology. But like a modern
Laius and Jocasta, I cannot avoid
my fate; as soon as I am in the
shower luxuriating in the thick
Breck lather I have worked up on
my long locks, that unutterable
sound penetrates my soapfilled ears.
Once more I make a mad nude dash
to my parents’ night table.
think I.
mine?”
Rally Revisited
Presidential candidate, Senator
George McGovern of South Dakota
came to the Colonie Coliseum on
Tuesday night, June 3, to campaign
for the New York State Primary.
Nearly 10,000 people showed up,
mostly between the ages of 18 and
25. In this day and age of political
scorn for young people, it was quite
surprising to see McGovern greeted
by such an enthusiastic ovation
amid the homemade signs and raised
fists.
McGovern’s voice, clear and delib-
erate, is easy to listen to. His speech
expressed his thoughts on many of
the current issues. He attacked the
Viet Nam war, and the evasion of
tax payments by big business,
He discussed the new law requiring
candidates to disclose the amount
There are many things which we,
as Milne students, expect to happen.
We expect to come to school (no
later than 8:30, of course), to spend
a seemingly endless amount of time
attending classes, to parry the usual
battery of tests and quizzes, and
every two or three weeks, just to
break the monotony, we expect to
receive a copy of the current issue
of the Crimson and White. And
what is so unusual about that? After
all, Milne is our school and the
C&W is the Milne newspaper. We
have a right to expect a copy of it
every few weeks. We have a right
to read it, laugh at it, to praise or
Yes, that’s true, we, as
Miine students, do have these rights
concerning the school newspaper.
However, there is one right we don't
have. We don’t have the right to
ignore it, to take it for granted be-
cause if things continue as they have
been, there may not be a newspaper
in years to come,
As it now stands, the C&W is, as
usual, understaffed for next year.
Far worse, there are very few
prospective juniors on staff. This
fact becomes especially distressing
when you consider that there will
be no qualified juniors to take over
the paper when next year’s senior
class graduates,
Many clubs have come and gone
here at Milne, Yet, each time an
organization disbands through lack
of interest, funds, or for some other
reason, a little part of Milne dies
with it. The death of the C&W
would take with it much more than
just a little part of Milne.
A newspaper should be an inte-
gral part of any school, something
its students can take pride in be-
cause they, themselves, create it.
But how can Milne hope to have a
truly interesting, creative paper if
its editors are perpetually forced to
beg people for articles, struggling to
fill the spaces left by people who
had promised to write but simply
“didn’t have the time.”
We'll all have “the time,” with
the long summer ahead, to perhaps
think about thins that each of us
could do to help make the C&W a
better newspaper. Perhaps you have
an idea for an inieresting article, or
a poem which you'd like to see
printed. And next year, when a
C&W meeting is announced, try
very hard to attend. Even if you'd
rather not actually write yourself,
you could still offer your support
and ideas to those who would, Be-
lieve me, contributing to the crea-
tion of a school newspaper can be
a truly gratifying experience!
of money spent on their campaigns. =
In addition, McGovern also spoke about relieving the country’s unemploy-
ment crisis and of spending tax dollars on services which benefit the people.
Preceeding McGovern, as an added attraction, was a country music jug
band, “The Star Spangled Washboard.” They were quit versatile as they
succeeded in holding the audience’s attention. Tom Paxton, the well known
folk singer, was on hand to sing his new song about peace, a theme which
seemed to set the mood to greet McGovern.
Remarks such as, “Never again shall young men give their lives for a
corrupt militaristic country,” brought the audience to their feet in waves
of applause. McGovern’s sense of humor was quite evident in his remarks
against Nixon and his administration, his jokes bringing cheers of approval
from his enthusiastic supporters.
Mary Ann Krupsak brought a close to the evening with some encouraging
words for McGovern, as he exited with a thunderous cheer from hissup-
porters. —Helene Galek
PAGE 2
CRIMSON AND WHITE
JUNE 23, 1972
In Cape Cod with the “Fearless Five”
When the plan for Seniors to have independent projects for the Mini-
Mester was approved, five crazies planned to bicycle to and around Cape
Cod. These people, who had heard of the wonderous exploits of their
member and leader, Debbie Stinson, the summer before, began to salivate
over the idea of reproducing her amazing feat. So, on Friday, May twelfth,
the “Fearless Five,” (Ted Mineau, Ani Shahinian, Debbie, Kevin Murtagh
and me), followed their mentor, Mr. Donald J. Pruden, on the first leg of
this historic venture.
Although their mileage for the first day was a measly seventeen miles,
it took them three hours to complete it. The group stayed the night at the
Prudens’ (very hospitalable people) and embarked on the thirty-two miles
to the Pittsfield hostel, Unfortunately, four miles from the house, my gear
lever came off and a halt for repairs was necessary, as was a call to Mr.
Pruden for HELP! The problem solved, the brave fiveful clambered over
the mountain that sits between New Lebanon and Pittsfield, bought food
for dinner, scaled another rather large lump in the road and finally col-
lapsed in the Pittsfield hostel—which looked rather like Girl Scout Camp
re-visited. As they settled in for the night, Ted made the wonderful an-
nouncement: “Somebody stole the hamburger and there are bugs in my
bed.” The question of stolen hamburger surprised the other four—who
would want 1.35 pounds of hamburger? Ted, Ani, Kevin, Debbie and I
enjoyed a scrumptious meal of Product 19 that evening.
“Bright and early the next morning the cyclists pedaled out of the hostel
and down a four-and-a-half-mile mountain, Aaaahhhhh!!! What a lovely
way to start the day, A stop for breakfast, and the quintet kept going until
it reached Sturbridge, a distance of approximately sixty miles from their
starting point that morning. Sadly however, Ani felt that she was dying,
so the “Fearless Five” had to spend two nights in the scenic PINK HAVEN
MOTEL. We took Ani to the hospital and the doctor pronounced her
normal.
On the sixteen we managed to do another sprint of sixty miles, this time
taking us as far as Ted’s sister’s house in Brighton, outside of Boston. The
following day the crew made it to Plymouth—about thirty miles. We
could have done more but the combination of a sixty-mile ride the day
before and getting out of Boston that morning had taken its toll. Wednes-
day night was spent in a boarding house, much to our shrinking wallets’
dismay, but it couldn't be avoided.
The Cape at last! We got into Hyannis by 3:30, visited the Kennedy
Memorial Park and then collapsed at the hostel. Two days of rain kept us
from seeing much more of Hyannis. We spent one of the soggy days sitting
in the Hyannis Public Library.
On Sunday, the twenty-first, we took the Hyannis-Martha’s Vineyard
ferry. On our way from Oaks Bluff to Edgartown we had our one and
only flat of the trip—Kevin’s back tire. Food, ai apes on bikes, held,
and juggled, was carried to the hostel. The hostel, although not completed
was beautiful and the people, absolutely fantastic. The Gay Head Cliffs
was everyone's destination on’ Monday. We split into three groups at this
point. The cliffs were beautiful, the beach, rocky but nice. We had
trouble getting Ani away. This day, too, they gave me a surprise birthday
party (nine days after my birthday.)
Tuesday, Ani, Debbie and I went to Chappaquidick—the island where
Ted Kennedy had his accident. It had one of the prettiest beaches I’ve
ever seen. Wednesday, our last day, was spent in a brief (about nine sec-
onds) swim in the ocean and in preparing for a going-away party for most
of the kids in the hostel.
The twenty-fifth saw us take the ferry to Woods Hole and from there,
Nantucket! On the first leg of the ferry trip we saw Livingston Taylor,
James’ brother. The hostel on Nantucket is an abandoned life-saving
station, which unfortunately is unheated. We stayed in the kitchen with
the stoves on for the next couple of nights because it was really cold!
Our stay at Nantucket was highlighted by: doing our laundry, sitting in
a square near the laundramat, riding Poplis Road to Sandaty Head where
there’s a cliff you can look over to see the sea, sitting on the beach, watch-
ing the Nantucket Town Memorial Day parade that took all of two minutes
to go by, painting the floor of the girls’ bathrooms in the hostel, seeing a
windmill and Henry Cabot Lodge’s summer home, and meeting some of the
nicest ‘people in the world.
We departed from Nantucket on the thirty-first with much longing to
stay. Who wanted to start home? The Nantucket-Hyannis ferry allowed
us another night in the Hyannis hostel, followed by a bus ride to Boston
and a ride to Brighton.
The next afternoon we were home.
Letter to the Editor
To the Editor:
This year was the first year Milne
has experimented with the Mini-
Mester. Since I participated in one
of the numerous courses, I can speak
from my own experiences. I was
fortunate enough to be a part of
the First-Aid course, taught by our
own school nurse, Mrs. McDowell.
The class learned quite a bit about
First-Aid, with the help of films,
and workbooks. Each student had a
“practice partner,” whom he band-
RP. (cont.y
It is a friend of my mother’s,
to leave a message. ’Bye ’bye now.
No, nothing important.
aged, splinted, carried, dragged, and
dropped occasionally.
In addition ‘to all the fun we had
in those three weeks, it really
seemed to pay off as we will all
receive First-Aid cards declaring us
official First-Aiders,
I really think a congratulations
goes to everyone who participated
in making the Mini-Mester such a
success. From what I have heard,
it was truly enjoyed by most, if not
all Milne students. and supervisors.
Let's hope we can create an even
more exciting program next year.
—M.R.
No, don’t bother
“Thank God they don’t make videophones yet,” I think, treading my way
back over my wet path to the bathroom. But by this time the shower is
cold, not to mention my shivering and dripping body.
I duck my head
under, braving the shock of the temperature to rinse out my hair, then
dry off and start to dress. Ha-CHOO! Nothing at all,
I continue dressing,
and then proceed downsta!rs and make myself some breakfast.
One hour, two eggs, nine kleenexes, two aspirins, a wrong number, and
a television rating poll later, my hair is dry enough for me to go outside,
Toe and elbow bandaged and an extra wad of tissue in my pocket, I put
on my boots and coat, get the ice chopper from the basement, admire its
fine, sharp edge for a moment, leave the house and go to work on the
front walk,
Chop. Chop. Crunch, Smash,
Chop. Ring, Ring? Ring!
Chop. Crunch, Ring. Chop, Smash,
Ohmigod!
Acting on animal reflex, I jump
for the door to the house, throwing down the chopper,
Ouuuuueecechhhhh!!! My foot!
Blankety-blank sharp ice chopper! And
yet, even in the agony of an impaled foot, only one thought occupies my
entire being: I must get to that telephone. I hobble towards the door—
but don’t make it.
My injured foot goes out from under me on the ice,
and I fall backwards onto my good leg which has buckled under me, hear-
ing sickening noises in my knee and back, Yet the telephone has not
stopped ringing; finding that I cannot stand, as if possessed I crawl inside
on my stomach, using my arms to propel me forward. Stopping from
complete exhaustion just out of reach of the receiver, I summon up the
last reserves of strength in my broken body. Telling myself “C’mon, boy,
you can do it, you’ve got to, you've just got to, that’s it . , I stretch,
stretch, strettcchhh my arm to the very limit of human capability . . , I've
almost got it .. . suddenly, I feel something give in my shoulder, and I’ve
got the receiver! I’ve got it! I’ve got it! “Hellohellohello!” Hung up.
The next thing I remember, I awake in a hospital bed, Two doctors and
a nurse are standing over me. They tell me my parents are waiting out-
side. They tell me that my parents found me on the floor of our house,
clutching the telephone receiver, laughing hysterically, They tell me my
elbow is infected, my toe, two bones, and a blood vessel in my foot are
broken, the ligaments in my knee are shredded, two vertebrae in my back
are cracked, the tendons in my shoulder are strained, and I have double
pneumonia. They tell me that when I am well enough, I will undergo
psychiatric tests. They tell me that I may be there a while, and that with
my parents’ wishes, I am in a private room with all the conveniences of
home. Then they go away.
Tam alone. It is peaceful and quiet, I am beginning to think I may like
it there. I close my eyes. Ah, there you are, dream girl. It’s been a long
day ... dream girl, why are you crying? What's that noise?
I open my eyes in horror. Terrified, my whole body trembling, my
stomach turning, I somehow bring myself to slowly turn my head and look
over at my bedside table. I scream.
“Help!”
“Hello,” says the doctor.
“Can I help you?” —Steve Benko
If you ever have a chance, take yourself and your bike or hikin
and go see Cape Cod, We didn't see much of it, but the parts we ew ne
beautiful, and most of the people we met were friendly. GO!!! It’s the
nicest and most enjoyable way I know of proving your insanity,
—Sara Boomsliter for the “Fearless Five”
CRIMSON AND Waite
Vol. XLII June 23,1972 No, 11
Published by The Milne School,
S.U.N.Y., Albany. Address corres-
pondence to The Editor, ie
Member
Cooperative Student Press
Columbia Scholastic Press Assn.
Editors...Nina Feltman, Joe Lapidus
Features Marta Rockwood
News Elizabeth Freedman
Sports Irving Dunn
Art Frank Perlmutter
Staff: Merle Bachman, Steve Benko,
Sara Boomsliter, Helene Galek,
Larry Levine
Advisor. Mr. Richard Lewis
