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(04/27/94 9:00am)
They could not be stopped. As the members of the Class of 1995 marched from Hill Field to Junior Balcony in the Quadrangle to College Green, they only had one thing on their minds -- becoming seniors. And nothing could stand in the way of this red-shirted mass of excited -- and inebriated -- Hey Day participants. Even the streets were cleared by University Police to allow the marchers to pass. "It's like we're?molten lava. We're just moving," said Engineering junior Andrew Goodale. "We can conquer anything right now?a small country would fall to us." Goodale added that the excitement during the event was "unbelievable." The Hey Day activities started at noon Friday with a Dining Services picnic in Hill Field. By 3 p.m., when the crowd gathered at the field's gate waiting for the march to begin, no one was thinking much about food. Taking bites out of each other's styrofoam hats and banging their wooden canes on anything and everything around them, the students enjoyed this decades-old tradition to its fullest extent. "It's exciting, it's amazing," said College junior Donna Sartz. "The people that haven't seen each other since freshman year are getting happy and hugging each other, and it's just a nice closure to junior year." As the group converged on Junior Balcony, a melee of cane-banging, hat-biting and loud cheering ensued for almost 30 minutes. And although open bottles of Jack Daniels and the like were prevalent at the scene, the group remained amazingly composed -- the atmosphere was pure celebration. When the mass finally embarked on the longest portion of the march -- from the Quad to College Green via Superblock -- it became apparent that the entire University was celebrating with the junior class. Hundreds of people lined Locust Walk -- many with drinks in hand -- to watch and cheer on the juniors as they walked their way to seniorhood. At 4 p.m., Interim President Claire Fagin and Interim Provost Marvin Lazerson gave their first and last Hey Day addresses to a screaming crowd. "Our Hey Day was special because it was the last year with [former President] Sheldon Hackney," said Senior Class President Matt Canner. "But this year [is] Claire Fagin's only Hey Day, so that will be special as well." Fagin -- who needed to quiet the crowd several times in order to speak -- finally got the words out that the massive drunken crowd was waiting to hear. "And now, by the power invested in me by the Trustees of the University of Pennsylvania, I now pronounce you seniors!" she said. After an intense roar of the crowd which lasted several minutes, Lazerson made his speech, which was only one sentence in length. "As the University's chief academic officer," he began to a small chorus of boos, "I hope that you will continue to party?through next year." The crowd roared once more, and then settled for a moment to watch Canner pass a ceremonial gavel to Senior Class President-Elect Loren Mendell. Mendell's speech was also quite brief due to the crowd's noise, as he was only able to get out the words, "We're now officially seniors!" Fagin described her only Hey Day as a "fabulous" event, adding that it was one of the best moments of her interim presidency. "I think we've had a lot of good moments actually, but this one is very exciting -- except for the smell of beer," she said. "It brings people together, it gives people joy, it gives people fun [and] it makes them ready to be alumni later, because everything like this you remember." Sartz said while the day's activities were very exciting, a "fear of the future" still loomed in many students' minds. "This is, in one respect, a bittersweet event because it means we have to be seniors and face real life, which is kind of scary," she said.
(04/18/94 9:00am)
The Quadrangle was not the only home to partying drunk students this weekend. Almost 1,000 people gathered Saturday night on Sansom Street, between 39th and 40th streets, for what has become an annual Spring Fling weekend tradition -- the Sansom Street Block Party. Party-goers said the party was fun, but "a fairly mellow time." University Police said otherwise. University Police Sergeant Thomas Messner said last night he responded to the area at about 11:30 p.m. when almost 700 people were in the street, closing it off to traffic. "In the past we've had some very serious incidents in that area, associated with this block party," he said. "One year we had a vehicle turned over and several other vehicles damaged." Messner said at one point in the night approximately 13 officers were on the scene because the party was not approved and there was no permit obtained to close the street. College sophomores Wilton Levine and Andrew Gano were at the party, and said the police officers might have used excessive force in trying to control the crowd. "One of them proceeded to walk towards us into the crowd," said Levine. "He got angry for no apparent reason, he said 'excuse me' very loudly, crossed his arms and charged into the crowd to make his way through." Levine added that several people were knocked down by the officer. Gano was one of those who ended up with a clear view of the ground. "He acted quickly and violently?and some people were hurt by that," Gano said. "The officer just pushed his way through the crowd, pushing people over, and reached his way over to one of the?houses where he started yelling." But Messner, who said he was probably the officer Gano described, said the partiers were "throwing cans, bottles and cups of beer at the officers." "People were throwing cans and bottles -- I did not want to be an easy target so when I walked through the crowd, I walked?very fast," he said. "I do believe our interventions helped curtail more serious problems." Messner said he told several bands to stop playing, asked people to remove numerous kegs of beer from the steps of a house and requested that party-goers to clear the street. But, at about midnight, almost 1,000 people had gathered in the area, and University Police required the help of the Philadelphia 16th District Police to help clear the area. Gano called the police's attempt "very unproductive," and said people were very confused when the police first arrived because "there were so many people that I think they just left." Messner said due to several cases of alcohol poisoning over the weekend, his main concern was the safety of the students involved in the party.
(04/15/94 9:00am)
The "father of gonzo journalism," Hunter S. Thompson, engaged in a rambling, chain-smoking and whiskey-gargling free-for-all discussion with 400 students in Chemistry 102 last night. Thompson is widely known for the columns he wrote as national affairs editor of Rolling Stone from 1969 to 1974 and for authoring several books that offer an outrageous and scathingly cynical look at American politics. He invented the art of "gonzo journalism," a term he coined during the early 1970s to characterize his own disjointed, demented and biting presentation of politics. With a reputation for drug abuse and hard-drinking, "Dr. Thompson" has attracted a cult following across the country. Many University students attending last night's discussion said they were fans of the 54-year-old anarchist and, in honor of the occasion, some could be observed smoking marijuana and drinking hard liquor before the discussion began. Thompson did not disappoint his fans. The audience welcomed him with a standing ovation even before Connaissance Chairperson and College junior Jesus Guerrero could complete Thompson's introduction. Thompson walked into the room, his trademark Dunhill cigarette dangling from his lip, and sat down at the table where a pitcher of water and a bottle of his favorite brand of whiskey were already set up for him. Guerrero began the discussion by asking Thompson his opinion of the state of American politics in light of the major political scandals of the last 20 years, including Watergate, the Iran-Contra affair and Whitewater. It would be the only question Guerrero was able to ask. Thompson started to answer the question, stating sarcastically that he had to be careful in answering because he did not wish to sully the audience's optimistic view of the future. But he soon digressed. "Drugs is one way to separate politics from reality," Thompson said as the audience rolled with laughter. Thompson's talk then degenerated into an unfocused question-and-answer session in which one audience member after another would cut Thompson off by shouting another question at him as soon as they believed he had concluded his often rambling answers. One member of the audience disrupted Thompson several times by screaming out the word "Satan." At another point, Thompson developed a violent, hacking cough which prevented him from continuing until he cleared his throat by gargling with whiskey. No one in the audience seemed to mind. Thompson wandered from topic to topic, touching on such diverse issues as his disillusionment with President Clinton, the candidate he endorsed in 1992, to whether he planned to see the Grateful Dead perform this summer. "I look at politics as a way to control my environment," Thompson said. "George Bush and Ronald Reagan left me with a feeling I was not controlling my environment." Former presidents Bush and Reagan were frequent targets of Thompson's wit. But Clinton was not free from attack either. Answering one question, Thompson said that when Clinton arrives at the "Great Hall where the Lords of Karma" decide how to reincarnate people, he will be sent back to earth as "a three-legged donkey on a Navajo Reservation." "I'm very bitter about Clinton now," he said, adding that the president is too preoccupied with winning votes for the 1996 election to make the proper decisions. "Clinton would initiate the gestapo if there was a well of popular support for it," Thompson said. "I had more fun losing with [1972 Presidential Candidate George] McGovern than winning with Bill Clinton." He also called U.S. Attorney General Janet Reno "that monster of a thing," criticizing Clinton's actions in Waco, Tx. and questioning his efforts to allow police to occupy housing projects in Chicago. When asked about cartoonist Garry Trudeau's Doonesbury character "Dr. Duke," supposedly modeled after the eccentric author, Thompson said he does not like the cartoon and thinks it is an unfair representation of him. After the discussion ended, several students stayed to talk and briefly smoke marijuana with Thompson, before the writer returned to his hotel.McCoullum" 'Speak your truths'
(04/13/94 9:00am)
A recovering student alcoholic and a member of Mothers Against Drunk Driving spoke to 20 students about their experiences with drug addiction and drunk driving in the keynote speech of Alcohol and other Drug Awareness Week last night in Houston Hall. Steve, a senior at a local college, and Karen, a speaker for the Philadelphia County MADD chapter, spoke on topics ranging from Kurt Cobain to the personal tragedies of drunk driving. Both speakers said they did not want their last name used, because of the personal ramifications of their stories. Steve said he was from a "blueblood Philadelphia" background and drank and smoked pot since seventh grade. "[I] partied my way here, to talk about drug and alcohol addiction," he said. Steve had a clear message for those attending the discussion. "It's not what or how much you've done, but what it did to you," he said. He recounted his high school cocaine addiction, the drug-related accidental death of a friend at 20, and how he finally "dumped everything onto the table" after his senior year in high school by telling his parents and entering a recovery program. Steve said he realized he "had been spiritually dead for a long time." "The bottle?was my best friend," he recalled. "[It was] the only one who understood me?The one I went to talk to." After conquering his addiction, Steve attended a local university and lived in a dormitory. He said he remembers watching freshmen, inexperienced with drugs and alcohol, disintegrate over the course of a year. He said he is part of a fraternity, which he said he enjoys because there is little pressure on him to drink. But he added that he sometimes feels like shaking up his brothers when they brag about their drinking binges. Steve also reflected on the suicide of Kurt Cobain. He said he felt sorry for the Nirvana singer because he was "an addict, he had a disease, and died in the way that a lot of addicts do." "Alcohol is a part of life," he concluded "And it's a matter of learning how to deal with it." Karen, the other speaker, helped start Philadelphia County MADD after a drunk driver killed her 13-year-old daughter in January of 1988. She said the numbers of drunk driving related deaths has been a major concern to her. "In the past decade, four times as many Americans died in drunk driving crashes than in the Vietnam War," she said. She estimated that drunk driving costs taxpayers over $148 billion annually, and argued that drunk driving "is a crime that has received totally inadequate treatment from the criminal justice system. "I won't ask you not to drink, because it's certainly your choice," she said "But don't be stupid, don't get behind the wheel of your car [after drinking at a party.]" She said that students driving drunk risked their own lives, and the lives of children like her daughter. Karen urged students to use a designated driver, or to walk home. Many victims of drunk driving spent the rest of their lives in wheelchairs, in jail or in diapers, she noted. Karen Pollack, a Drug and Alcohol Resource Team event coordinator, said the speech helped raise awareness of drug and alcohol related issues at Penn. Alcohol and Other Drug Awareness Week has two days of events remaining, today and tomorrow.
(03/31/94 10:00am)
Penn coach Bob Seddon couldn't have asked for any more. In a midweek game, Seddon chose sophomore Mike Shannon, not a regular starter, to pitch before 60,000 empty seats at Veterans Stadium. Shannon gave Seddon six strong innings and left having staked the Quakers to a three-run lead. He gave it everything he had. By effectively changing speeds, Shannon kept the Delaware hitters off balance for the majority of the game. Shannon set the first batter of the game up with fast balls, only to strike him out with the slow stuff. He found similar success with the Blue Hens' cleanup hitter, left fielder Tom Lafferty to end the first inning. Although he allowed Delaware to score a run and temporarily take a one-run lead in the second, the run more appropriately belonged to Penn freshman Mark DeRosa, who came closer to hitting the empty seats behind first base than finding Quaker first baseman Dave Krzemienski on a seemingly routine ground ball. After regaining his composure after the second, Shannon (6 innings, 6 hits, 0 earned runs, 4 strikeouts, 1 walk) went back to work, and never allowed a Blue Hen to get past second base for the remainder of his six-inning stint. He made Delaware look foolish as he had the Blue Hens swinging in front of pitches, behind pitches or just taking strikes all afternoon. "Mike was doing great," Penn catcher Joe Piacenti said. "He had a lot of pop on the ball. He was getting the curve over for a strike and was changing speed a lot. When you do that, the hitters can't sit back and wait on the fast ball." But when Shannon left, with the Quakers still clinging to a 4-1 lead, the fun really began. Senior reliever Mike Komsky looked impressive as he shut the Blue Hens down in order in the seventh. But unfortunately for the Quakers, the same cannot be said of the eighth. Komsky was ripped apart like a pi-ata on Cinco de Mayo. While Shannon spread out six hits over six innings, Delaware reeled off five hits in the eighth to tie the game at 4. "We blew it," Seddon said. "The relief pitching didn't hold.?Komsky pitched a good seventh and then he didn't fare well in the eighth. They had a couple of end-of-the-bat hits." But if Komsky's three runs in two innings had Seddon looking for the antacid bottle, junior closer Mike Martin's ninth must have driven Seddon to look for a bottle of scotch. Seddon handed the ball to Martin for the ninth with the score notched at 4. It didn't take long for Martin to get into trouble. Martin hit the first batter. The next bunted successfully for an infield hit. Then Delaware shortstop Deron Brown loaded the bases on a fielder's choice. So with the bases juiced, Martin faced the Blue Hens' star, third baseman Cliff Brumbaugh, who promptly hit the ball into deep center field for an easy double, clearing the bases. "I really don't have any excuses," Martin said following the Quakers' 7-4 loss. "It was just a bad inning.?I went out there and they just ripped the ball. I got the ball up a little bit and they punished me for it." After those final two innings, in which the Quakers were outscored 6-0, Seddon had a right to ask for more.
(03/31/94 10:00am)
MAJOR DRAGMAJOR DRAGSheen and Co. don't catch lightning in a bottle twice. In fact, Major League II is practically a carbon-copy of the original. A year after the Indians' Cinderella season, we find the Tribe getting caught up in their success. Delinquent-turned-pitcher Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn (Charlie Sheen) has gone corporate, abandoning his 96-mph heater for some weak off-speed pitches designed to extend his career. Speedster Willie Mays Hayes (Omar Epps, replacing Wesley Snipes, who wanted too much money to appear in the sequel) fancies himself a power hitter only to forget how to steal bases. And slugger Pedro Cerrano (Dennis Haysbert) abandons voodoo for Buddhism, becoming passive both at the plate and in the field. The movie follows the formula of its predecessor with a vengeance, even when it makes no sense to do so. Villainous owner Rachel Phelps (the delightfully bitchy Margaret Whitton) is back to drive the team's spirit into the ground, but there's no reason for it. Since there appears to be no prospect of moving the team to Florida (her motivation in the original), it's just stupid for her to try and get her own team to lose. Despite this slavish imitation, the sequel actually offers some modest entertainment. However, just as in the first film, which was stolen from "stars" Sheen, Bernsen, and Tom Berenger by then-unknowns Haysbert and Snipes, Major League II's most enjoyable performances come from the supporting players. Relative newcomer Eric Brukstotter is a hoot as the new catcher, the aptly-nicknamed "Rube" Walker. In addition, Epps, who has always seemed like a Wesley Snipes-in-training (both found plenty of early work playing athletes), steps into his predecessor's shoes as well as can be expected. He doesn't quite have Snipes' comic gifts (he's still trying to master the art of the double-take), but he has the same aura of brashness about him. Despite the appeal of the rookies, Dennis Haysbert continues to steal every scene he's in. He's helped by the fact that his character has a complete personality transplant -- the once surly Cerrano now thanks pitchers for striking him out. He has an inherent goofiness that most of his more established co-stars still lack. Bernsen seems uncomfortable throughout, as if he's waiting for his next paycheck, while Tom Berenger is as wooden as ever. Even Charlie Sheen's gift for deadpan humor gets wasted as he's shackled with a lame subplot about a love triangle. That romance actually typifies Major League II's biggest problem: too much time is wasted on off-the-field problems, and not enough is spent on the field. Hayes' ego seems to stem more from his time in Hollywood (in the off-season, he apparently made a cheesy blaxploitation film with Jesse "The Body" Ventura) than anything he did on the field the previous season. And Vaughn's inability to throw his fastball seems to be caused by his conservative haircut and Armani suits, not by any actual arm problems. The upshot of this is to distance you from the game itself, which is the reason director David Ward brought everyone back in the first place. Because so little time is spent on just playing baseball, we never really get a feel for the way this team's season is going, nor do we especially care. In fact, neither do the filmmakers, apparently. At the end of the original's 'inspirational' Big Game, we faded out on the players' celebration. This time around, the climax comes not at the very end of the Big Game, but afterwards, as Vaughn finally chooses the right girl. The greatest sin a sports movie can commit is to take the sport itself for granted. -Alan Sepinwall DUCKMEN Disney proves that two is better than one Surprisingly, D2: The Mighty Ducks, is quite entertaining. Granted, it's geared towards nine-to-twelve year olds, not the discriminating intellectual college student. But it still remains an amusing two hours. It doesn't have any universal truths (well, sort of) but is merely a tale of winning against all odds and the spirit of team work (which just happens to be the very same theme of the first installment). And it's a Disney flick, so that infectious Disney magic pervades the entire experience. The original troupe is back, a little older, but still cute and amazing on skates. For those die hard Brat Pack fans, Emilio Estevez is back in his coaching position. Thrown in for extra flavor are six new team members: a friendly if naive Texan, a brusque bad boy, a lithe Korean figure skater, a talented female goalie, a loud mouthed kid from South Central, and the fastest Cuban skater from Miami. Michael Tucker of LA Law fame plays the quirky, high strung sponsor and Kathryn Erbe is the peripheral, but safely cute, teacher for the team. The team's agenda this time is winning the world championships. They represent not just the Mighty Ducks, but the United States, and by extension, peace, love, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness on skates. In their way is a formidable opponent team (this time, mean blondes from Iceland) and their own conflicts of jealousies, misplaced priorities, mistrust, arrogance and getting used to one another. All this while frolicking in the City of Cities, Los Angeles, where the wide-eyed and rambunctious Ducks gambol on Rodeo, Venice, the Coliseum and even take an excursion to South Central. It's in the game against some locals that the clean cut team gets their rollerblades rattled, but it's in such fast-paced hockey games that the film really shines. Overlooking the costuming and characterizations of the local kids as somewhat insidious, the montage nevertheless charms. The other standout fast scene is early on in the film, and serves to establish the movie's pace. The Ducks go about rounding each other up at their locales while speeding along on their rollerblades. The film borders on the self-serving, with stunts, cutesy pranks and daredevil antics, all at daring speeds; but set against the saturated colors of a Kodak commercial and a background of good but generic rock, the Ducks are really too good at what they do to hold much against them. Who wouldn't want to skate through Minneapolis at a breakneck speed? Some might argue this is simply a rehashed version of the first film, with new characters and a grander scale, and it might be, but the goal of this and similar movies is simply to entertain, not to offer truths on man's innate evil or the disparity of existence. It's about a bunch of cute kids who know how to skate and how they skate their way into triumph. The scenes are well constructed, fast and entertaining, the games are as exciting as real hockey games and there are even some real Queen tracks to ensure an authentic feeling of triumph. ABOVE THE RIM Can you say "rehash," boys and girls? Above the Rim is out there for all those who need another basketball movie. Yet although it is a rework of worn inner-city and basketball themes, the film is not entirely without some merit. Set in Harlem, the movie revolves around basketball talent Kyle Watson (Duane Martin) as he tries to play his way out of the neighborhood by garnering a college scholarship. As backdrop to his struggle are two brothers who have split and taken divergent paths. One is a security guard who once had the potential to go all the way to the NBA, but was sidetracked when his friend unexpectedly died. The second and younger brother took the low road and became a dealer and a leader of a posse of thugs. The brothers each embody forces that push Kyle between these disparate avenues. If he pulls it together, he will live happily ever after, if he doesn't he will end up not being recruited. Guess what? He pulls it together. Overall, the movie invokes a strange feeling that a lot of cutting and pasting went into its making. Characters are quickly familiar because they've already been developed in other movies. There are all the recycled inner-city players, the strong single mom, the neighborhood dealer and company, the stoic father figure, the fast-talking clown. They are all characters from movies that deal with the inner-city and basketball such as Blue Chips, White Men Can't Jump, and Boyz N' the Hood. Besides the characters being similar, the conflicts and tensions between the characters are also familiar. It is hard to find anything slightly original in this predictable film. Ignoring its markedly banal flavor, the film is somewhat entertaining. Duane Martin delivers a strong, heartfelt performance. Parts of the movie are genuinely humorous. In one scene, Kyle gets hit up for a game of one-on-one by a homeless man. Although they were perhaps unkind, the insults and ridicule Kyle and his friend heap on the bum are hilarious. Above the Rim's quick-cutting basketball scenes are refreshing, especially in their depiction of the tumultuous outdoor-court basketball world. Those looking for some mildly exciting basketball scenes and inner-city jive and will have to forsake any semblance of suspense or originality, however. --Rand Orban IN THE HOUSE OF THE SPIRITS In The House of Spirits, Clara (Meryl Streep), who has supernatural powers, proclaims to the audience that she "sees the relationships between the events" in her life. Unfortunately, the viewer also needs psychic powers to understand the significance of all the people that die, the lovers that secretly meet, and the dead people that randomly reappear throughout the movie. This film follows a family in South America through three generations, and the events, some interesting and some entertaining, many repetitive or unnecessary, that happen to them. Most of the action takes place on the estate where the self-made patriarch Esteban (Jeremy Irons) lives with his sister Ferula (Glenn Close), his psychic wife Clara, and their daughter Blanca (Winona Ryder). The violent revolution is the backdrop for the primary storyline, which deals with the intimate relationships that bring the characters' lives together. The House of Spirits would be more enjoyable if it simply centered on these relationships or if it played more on the spiritual occurrences and ghosts that appear. Instead, the relationships are not closely examined at all, and although a few tables float in the air and Clara predicts a few events, her power doesn't seem to amount to anything. Ferula predicts that Esteban will end up alone in life, but he doesn't, and so this seems irrelevant. There is also eerie music that backs some of the scenes but since nothing particularly spiritual occurs, it goes mostly unnoticed. Another fault is that the film seems to have lost its Latin American style for which the original novel was acclaimed. And it doesn't help that the four main characters are played by Anglo-Saxon actors. Still, the biggest problem with The House of Spirits is Jeremy Irons and his character. He spends too much time chasing his daughter's lover Pedro (Antonio Banderas), and for all his heartache, he shows hardly any emotion. Basically, Irons sounds like he is reading his lines from the book and is completely unbelievable as the abusive father. Many of his character's actions don't add to the story and are only distracting. It's curious why he was cast , especially since his age isn't even close to that of the character. With a ridiculous ending following depressing turns of events, the film becomes tiresome and bland. Read the book-- it's better. --Shari Goldsmith JIMMY HOLLYWOOD Some actors just reach a point when they're running in place. Joe Pesci is one of them. Since his breakthrough in Goodfellas thrust him into the category of Hollywood leading man, Pesci has apparently done everything in his power to relinquish that role in a series of flops. Jimmy Hollywood, his latest, is no exception. Pesci doesn't do anything particularly surprising -- he is his usual opinionated, raspy-voiced, ranting and raving self. The problem with his acting is that he is unable to escape the typecasting that has followed him around for the past few years. It is entirely feasible to randomly interchange the roles he has played in previous movies without missing a beat, or losing much substance from his characters. In Jimmy Hollywood, Pesci plays an out-of-work, eternally angry actor named Jimmy Alto. Frustrated with acting, Hollywood, and life in general, he goes on a rampage after his car radio is stolen. His actions are mistaken for those of a vigilante group and, realizing his opportunity for fame, Jimmy grabs it. Along with his pathetic sidekick William (Christian Slater), he makes a name for himself as pseudo-crime buster "Jericho," the greatest (and only) role of his life. Soon reality and fantasy intermingle, and Jimmy fails to make the distinction. Slater's co-billing would seem to be a feeble attempt to generate more starpower for an already suspect screenplay by director Barry Levinson. Slater, however, fails to spark much interest and simply takes up space. He does quite a job of hiding whatever talent he possesses behind William, the partially mute, partially psycho but, ever-loyal weirdo. Although Slater's actual time on screen is substantial, his presence is negligible. The few lines of dialogue that he actually has consist of curt, boring replies ranging from one word to one sentence, hardly the thing for someone who is often addressed as the actor of the future. Slater's mumbling can also get on one's nerves, especially when clashed with Pesci's non-stop motormouth. Jimmy Hollywood is a black comedy, though if you're looking for laughs, you've come to the wrong place. It paints a bleak picture of the streets, society, and the difficulties in creating an identity in a town without pity. This idea is poorly executed, and the final moments of the movie may leave you wondering exactly where you parked your car rather than contemplating any messages conveyed. When the highlight of a film is during the credits, you know you're in trouble. --Jeff Han
(03/31/94 10:00am)
Intimations of Immortality from Collections of Early ManhoodIntimations of Immortality from Collections of Early Manhoodby Ben Myers The laboratories of my newfound potential profession were tucked tastefully away near Society Hill. Although I didn't have any trouble finding it, I certainly wouldn't have seen it if I wasn't looking. The offices had some reasonably high security, which mildly surprised me; I needed to be buzzed in to the waiting room. "It is a bank, after all," I reasoned, imagining the far-fetched possibility of an armed sperm heist. Since I was early, I was asked to wait a few moments in the empty waiting room. And, understandably, I began to get a little anxious. Not knowing what to expect, I imagined the worst: did they really use some sort of vacuum device? And would there be a catheter involved? Finally, a white-coated, rubber-gloved lab technician approached me. "Mr. Myers? You can come with me." I followed him around the corner. Pointing into a little room, he said, "the sample container is in the wicker basket." I nodded absent-mindedly, locked the door, and surveyed my surroundings. It didn't even really qualify as a room. It was more of an elongated closet–cum–bathroom than anything else. There was a sink, and a toilet; and, of course, tucked away in the corner was a large, pale imitation leather rocking chair set squarely in front of a 25–inch television set. I double–checked the door; it was locked. The wicker basket itself was the only puzzling aspect of the room. It looked large enough to easily hold a week's worth of dirty laundry, but inside was a solitary, lonely plastic bottle in sterile shrink-wrap. "Is this just the last one, or something? Wouldn't it be easier to just put it on a table?" I wondered. I had to reach way down into the basket to grab it. I re-checked the door: still locked. Assauged, I sat down. The first unwelcome thought was that my mother would certainly not be pleased with my proximity to the television. My second was that, in my semi-reclining position, my potentially valuable tools of the trade were in danger of becoming irradiated by the television's cathode rays. The video selections being piped in weren't what I would call hard-core pornography, but they were still too lewd to be cable-ready. The short clips featured just about everything short of violence. I noticed a sign above the set which read, "Please do not adjust the monitor. If you need help, ask an attendant." I thought about calling someone in to turn the volume up, just for fun, but decided against it. There were a few magazines on a table next to me; exactly the sort of stuff you would expect. On the bottom of the pile, however, was a Hollywood Women edition of People magazine, with a big picture of pre–diet Oprah on the cover. Shaken, but undeterred, I removed into a quiet corner of the room and did the job I was expected to do. Afterwards, I checked my zipper about ten times. I walked out into the hallway and handed my vial to the lab tech who said passively, "Mr. Myers, this will take about fifteen minutes to liquefy." Although I was unsure what I had to do with the liquefication process, I was ushered into another office. "The worst of it is over," I told myself. I discussed safety concerns with a doctor. He told me that rigorous health tests were also performed on sperm recipients to insure that there are no claims of donated sperm causing diseases which were previously contracted. Good to know. And he told me that there was a fifty-fifty chance that my sperm would fail the "freeze-thaw" test. "Some men's sperm just don't freeze well," he explained. Not exactly reassuring. A nurse took a few vials of blood to test for "the good stuff": gonorrhea, hepatitis, the whole fun gang of venereal diseases. I then had the extreme pleasure of taking some samples myself which involved intimate contact between a pair of oversized Q-tips and my urethra. I couldn't help but think of those cotton commercials with "the touch, the feel of cotton" refrains. It was pretty painful stuff and, after this, I definitely knew the worst was over. Finally, I was put to work completing my medical history. Since I'm a reasonably healthy guy, the medical forms went very quickly: no allergies, no operations, no psychological problems, not currently taking any medications. I was flying through them. Finally, I came to a tough one: the Donor Profile. Large letters on the top of the page read, "The information on these forms will be provided to parents and may be given to any children which result from your donations. For obvious psychological reasons, it is important for you to be as complete and as accurate as possible in completing the following questions." I slowed to a crawl. Imagining one of my offspring someday reading this very page, I concentrated a little harder on my handwriting, composed my answers a little more carefully, and began having second-thoughts about the whole process. How could I communicate my abilities and interests on a mere six lines? The thought of condensing something meaningful about my own father onto those six lines made me more than a little uneasy. What exactly is my motivation behind all this self-manipulation? I don't know. And the more I think about it, the less sure I am. I suppose part of it is purely monetary: $150 a week is a lot of money for the work involved. Of course, some of it is undeniably egotistical: the urge to become a father, albeit asexually, could be nothing more than a manifestation of my own significant conceit. After all, any kid of mine has got better than a fighting chance, even considering the unknown factor of my mate-to-be. And there's even some altruism thrown in for good measure: these couples have decided that they want to have a child which is one-half theirs. By purely biological luck, I have some pretty decent genes and am willing to share them. And strangely enough, the thought of unknowingly running into my son or daughter 20 years in the future doesn't particularly bother me. So many of my friends kept asking me, "doesn't the thought of a bunch of little Myers running around bother you?" that I began to be a little offended. "Does the thought of a bunch of little Myers running around bother you?" I would counter. I remembered that everyone in the office calling me "Mr. Myers" began to really irritate me. Perhaps if I'm not ready to be addressed as an adult, I'm not ready to become a father. Even anonymously.
(03/23/94 10:00am)
Several customers' meals were interrupted last night at the Beijing Restaurant on 37th and Spruce by a heated altercation between one of the owners and a customer. At 5:45 p.m., a man in tattered clothing entered the establishment and ordered soup which he wanted to eat in the restaurant, said store owner Mark Gendelman. Gendelman explained that when he told the man that he had to get the soup for take-out, the customer said, "The hell I will," and pushed his way past restaurant worker, Anna Chan. Gendelman said that he suspected that the man was not mentally sound. The customer, carrying a plastic bag with food in it, took a seat at a table in the back. Gendelman said that when he picked up the phone to call the police, the man "started tearing up the place." The customer smashed his bag of food down on the table, which then overturned, sending tea cups, bottles of soy sauce and hot-pepper containers crashing to the floor. "I just heard glass breaking. I didn't know what was going on," said College of General Studies student Arlyn Apollo, who was sitting in a booth a few feet from the customer's table. The man proceeded to run toward the front of the store where he assaulted Gendelman. "He knocked me down and tried to hit me," said Gendelman, who emerged from the scuffle with a scratch on his arm. "Here is a time I'm glad I didn't have a weapon in the store," added Gendelman. "I would have hurt him permanently." Many of the restaurant workers who witnessed the incident rushed to the owner's aid, but by the time they got to him, the customer had already fled the establishment. People in the restaurant at the time were frightened. A boy could be heard saying, "Daddy, I'm scared." "I thought he was going to kill someone," said Apollo, who watched the incident. Soon after the customer left the restaurant, he was arrested by University police. Gendelman said that nothing like that has ever happened at the restaurant during the five years he has been there. Despite the commotion, service was not disrupted for very long. In a matter of minutes, the table was put back in place. Beijing employee Ina Yeung said the commotion frightened her. "A lot of these people are walking around here in this neighborhood," Beijing employee Ina Yeung said. "It's not very safe."
(03/17/94 10:00am)
So just what went on beneath all them skimpy thong bikinis this week? A little sand, random bottle caps, a little mixed pubic hair? You think I can't still call the shots like I see 'em? I never one time in my whole life saw such wet-shorted, tan-tittied, maxed-credit-card mayhem back on the farm, or even on the Jersey shore for that matter. No, with the energy y'all spent oiling up, ordering up, and throwing back what you hooked up, you could power some smaller townships for centuries to come. So just what went on beneath all them skimpy thong bikinis this week? A little sand, random bottle caps, a little mixed pubic hair? You think I can't still call the shots like I see 'em? I never one time in my whole life saw such wet-shorted, tan-tittied, maxed-credit-card mayhem back on the farm, or even on the Jersey shore for that matter. No, with the energy y'all spent oiling up, ordering up, and throwing back what you hooked up, you could power some smaller townships for centuries to come. FOUR ON THE FLOOR: Freshman Joshua Goldman was happier than a bull with its schlong stuck in a milking machine when, while leading one faux-tropical beauty back to his Cancun base pad, he and his thang-to-be stumbled across two mutual female friends. These two just happened to be nude, drunk, and eager for a slide in the Mexican Hot Sauce. The foursome decided to try the combination platter, making Goldman the first newmaking member of the underdeveloped frat newcomer Pi Kappa Phi.So just what went on beneath all them skimpy thong bikinis this week? A little sand, random bottle caps, a little mixed pubic hair? You think I can't still call the shots like I see 'em? I never one time in my whole life saw such wet-shorted, tan-tittied, maxed-credit-card mayhem back on the farm, or even on the Jersey shore for that matter. No, with the energy y'all spent oiling up, ordering up, and throwing back what you hooked up, you could power some smaller townships for centuries to come. FOUR ON THE FLOOR: Freshman Joshua Goldman was happier than a bull with its schlong stuck in a milking machine when, while leading one faux-tropical beauty back to his Cancun base pad, he and his thang-to-be stumbled across two mutual female friends. These two just happened to be nude, drunk, and eager for a slide in the Mexican Hot Sauce. The foursome decided to try the combination platter, making Goldman the first newmaking member of the underdeveloped frat newcomer Pi Kappa Phi.LOVE AT FIRST SHIT:After sucking back more than a few drinks during a sojourn in Key West, keen-eyed DU sophomore Joe Parisi felt an itchin' in his harpoon and began flirting with a Chick of the Sea. At her behest, they headed back to the slightly-curtained toilet. Expecting some buried treasure, Parisi was surprised when the mermaid daintily dropped her lycra and proceeded to squeeze out a few driftwood logs, of a sort. Keeping with the excretory mood, our salty dog asked for a little assistance emptying his ballast tank. His new-found friend hastily wiped herself and took his helm in hand, and turned on his bilge pump. Life is mysterious, very mysterious.So just what went on beneath all them skimpy thong bikinis this week? A little sand, random bottle caps, a little mixed pubic hair? You think I can't still call the shots like I see 'em? I never one time in my whole life saw such wet-shorted, tan-tittied, maxed-credit-card mayhem back on the farm, or even on the Jersey shore for that matter. No, with the energy y'all spent oiling up, ordering up, and throwing back what you hooked up, you could power some smaller townships for centuries to come. FOUR ON THE FLOOR: Freshman Joshua Goldman was happier than a bull with its schlong stuck in a milking machine when, while leading one faux-tropical beauty back to his Cancun base pad, he and his thang-to-be stumbled across two mutual female friends. These two just happened to be nude, drunk, and eager for a slide in the Mexican Hot Sauce. The foursome decided to try the combination platter, making Goldman the first newmaking member of the underdeveloped frat newcomer Pi Kappa Phi.LOVE AT FIRST SHIT:After sucking back more than a few drinks during a sojourn in Key West, keen-eyed DU sophomore Joe Parisi felt an itchin' in his harpoon and began flirting with a Chick of the Sea. At her behest, they headed back to the slightly-curtained toilet. Expecting some buried treasure, Parisi was surprised when the mermaid daintily dropped her lycra and proceeded to squeeze out a few driftwood logs, of a sort. Keeping with the excretory mood, our salty dog asked for a little assistance emptying his ballast tank. His new-found friend hastily wiped herself and took his helm in hand, and turned on his bilge pump. Life is mysterious, very mysterious.HYPOCRISY IS THE GREATEST LUXURY: Selective philanthropist and SDT junior Jessica Pollock took a firm stance in the fight against cancer, buying a ticket to the annual Cancer Ball. But the intermittently thoughtful aspiring C. Everett Koop, when admonished for lighting up, responded with "I'm here to stop breast cancer, not lung cancer." Well, so long as you have your priorities straight.DAZED AND REMOVED: By the way, AE-Fly's Jon Hoffman was kicked out of his Spring Break hotel room for smoking weed. Ain't he cool? ORANGE CRUSHED: Everyone's favorite Argentinian Jew, Sig Ep's Emiliano Calemzuk, thought he had it made. It was Spring Break, the sun was shining, and he was ready to drink some overpriced Jimmy Buffett margaritas. But he was quickly nabbed by the cops for possessing, as they say, "false identification punishable by the Penal Code of the State of Florida." Calemzuk obtained the privelege of dressing in the ever chic orange penitentiary jump suit and pick up trash around town for a full day. LESS IS MORE: AChiO senior Nita Dang felt the heat of competition during a high tension wet t-shirt contest. As our dear Nita feared a loss to the, um, heftier Marisa Weiss entering the final round of the "ladies event," her competition tore off her own spindly halter top and shoved her breasts into the unwitting face of a female bystander. Even the cheap-thrill audience was shocked, and the less-than-D-cup Nita was awarded the prize by default. A GENTLEMAN(?) FROM VERONA: You'd think the typically erudite Penn student could function in most situations. Not SAM Brian Verona, who ventured to Jamaica's Hedonism resort and its nearby nude beach. The thrill actual naked people nearby was little too much, and he soon became embarrassed by the constant throbbing in his loins. So, in an effort to ease the constantly re-emerging problem, Verona demurely took matters into his own hands, and quickly softened up. LESS THAN ZEROES: Yes, yes, we all know that cocaine has re-emerged as the oh-so-elite narcotic of choice amongst Penn's finest with hefty discretionary incomes. But for those three black-booted gentlemen who emerged from the Palladium bathroom earlier this week, please show a little bit of class when doing it. All names are anagrams to conceal the ugly truth.
(02/24/94 10:00am)
by Shari Goldsmith Seagal plays Forest Taft, an employee of Agis Oil. Agis, owned by sleazy Michael Jennings (Michael Caine), is building a huge refinery in Alaska, which has been causing oil spills because of faulty protectors. Jennings keeps using the bad protectors while claiming that he doesn't know what's causing the spills. Not to worry, Taft discovers this corruption and attempts to save the world from environmental ruin. The corporation finds out, and Taft's life is saved only through the intervention of friendly Eskimos. What follows is a barrage of strange events in which Taft wrestles a bear and emerges from a lake as a sort of baptism. All of this is accompanied by drum-based music, an attempt to display Eskimo's lives and their belief in spirits. But all Seagal ends up doing is mocking their customs. Later, when his Eskimo woman companion (who's only purpose is as the token woman in the film) suggests that they use the spirits to destroy the refinery, he all but laughs in her face. This film seems more like a comedy than an action movie. After punching a guy who was insulting an Eskimo, Taft reasons with him and asks,"What does it take to change the essence of a man?" Later, he becomes MacGyver, turning a coke bottle into a silencer. But if your stomach doesn't hurt yet from laughing, wait until the finale, where the film makes an attempt at being an environmental documentary with pictures of destroyed lakes underscoring Seagal's lecture about big business' oil spills, oil cartels, and the importance of recycling. In his attempt to produce a film with an important issue, Seagal loses the intense action and suspense that made his prior movies enjoyable. It doesn't work to give an environmental or anti-prejudice speech when it is intermixed with violence. At the end when Seagal profoundly states "our planet is dying" you might think he should worry about his career and leave the planet's fate to the environmentalists.
(02/14/94 10:00am)
He isn't Jimi Hendrix. But Grammy Award winner Vishwa Mohan Bhatt's creative use of a guitar has added a new twist to classical Indian music. Bhatt and Sukhvinder Singh performed live Tuesday at Houston Hall for students interested in world music and cultures. The event was sponsored by the department of South Asia Regional Studies. Bhatt began by demonstrating a "rag," which is an improvisational piece with seven notes played in an ascending and descending order, he explained. "There are certain steps in each performance," Bhatt said. "The first part is an instrumental solo." In the second part, which is called jor, the pace of the music quickens, Bhatt said. At this point in the performance, Singh played the tabla, or two small drums. "Ninety-five percent of the performance is based on improvisation," Bhatt said. "If we play the same rag tomorrow, it will be different from what we played [today]." Each rag has its own particular mood, he added. Some rags are meant to be played in the evening, while others are intended for the afternoon, or morning. Bhatt said he departs from the traditional way in which classical Indian music is performed by using a guitar as opposed to Indian instruments. The guitar is modified to include four main melody strings, five drone strings and 10 sympathetic resonating strings, which make the notes echo, explained Indian music lecturer Allyn Miner, who spoke at the event. Throughout the performance, Bhatt slid a steel rod across the strings in order to achieve a wavering effect with the sound. "It's an important type of world music," Miner said. "To have it here at Penn is a big opportunity and to have people of this standard [come] is a real treat." Bhatt's album, A Meeting By The River, is a collaboration with bottle-neck blues guitar player Ry Cooder. It won Best Album at this year's Grammy awards. Professor Marina Roseman said she had her "World Music and Cultures" class attend the performance. "There is nothing like the students having a chance to hear the music live, to be able to ask questions, to have the music explained by people who play it," Roseman said. Many members of the audience said they enjoyed the performance. "For me it's the first Indian performance I've ever heard," said College freshman Jessica Schruck. "I loved it."
(01/25/94 10:00am)
Some students living off-campus had to brush their teeth with Evian water yesterday morning, after a water crisis Sunday shut off the water supply to many businesses and residences city-wide. The water crisis was triggered by water main breaks over the weekend, Water Department spokesperson Joan Pzybylowisz said last night. More than 150 million gallons of water were lost each day because of the water main breaks, which were caused by wild fluctuations in air temperature, she added. "[The water] is leaking underground and on the streets," Pzybylowisz said. To counter the massive water loss and to prevent fire hazards, the Water Department lowered water pressure throughout the city, she added. College senior Charles Maddow said yesterday he had to shut off the water in his 41st Street house after his floor became overrun with flooding caused by a burst water pipe. "I still haven't showered," he said. Maddow added that he had to brush his teeth with "bottled water." Wharton senior Dev Choudry said while the faint water pressure did not stop him from brushing his teeth in his off-campus apartment, he had to take his morning shower at Hutchinson Gymnasium. He said there was only hot water flowing from the faucets in his apartment. Choudry added that although his roommates took showers in their apartment yesterday morning, he was sure "they really didn't enjoy them." When he took his complaint to his landlord at the University City Housing office, Choudry said his landlord said it would be too expensive to fix the pipes. Students living on-campus have not been as strongly affected by the water crisis, though, said Executive Director of Physical Plant James Wargo. "We haven't had many complaints," he said. While Wargo acknowledged that there was lower water pressure in the University's water system, he said he believed the situation was much worse in South Philadelphia and Center City. Pzybylowisz said "certain complaints take precedence" over others, but would not say if the Water Department has devoted special attention to the University. She added that the Water Department has been receiving between 30 and 50 complaints each day about water shortages. Normally, Pzybylowisz explained, the Water Department receives about 13 calls a day. There have been "serious problems" with main breaks since Dec. 27 because the mains are "really old," she said. The recent "ice storm" only escalated the crisis, though, Pzybylowisz said.
(01/20/94 10:00am)
From Corin Brown's "The Ugly Stick Chronicles," Winter '94 From Corin Brown's "The Ugly Stick Chronicles," Winter '94Scene #1: It's 11:32 p.m. on a random fall Tuesday in a brother's room in the fraternity house. Four brothers lounge like slugs in varying states of immobility. SportsCenter is illuminating the otherwise dim room through the $800 27–inch Sony Trinitron. As SportsCenter anchor Craig Patrick silently mouths the gruesome but, to the slugs, only mildly interesting details of Lenny Dykstra's latest drinking–induced misadventure with the law, someone crams the bowl with the mustard colored buds of the newly acquired "Acapulco Gold." After a few moments of frantic rummaging, a flimsy, limp, half used WaWa matchbook is procured. Someone lights a match. Someone takes a hit. Someone passes the bowl. Soon that day's Finance midterm is forgotten. Soon next week's interview at Chiatt/Day in L.A. is forgotten. Soon the sadness over the new ex-girlfriend is forgotten. No worries. . . The screen dissolves. Scene #2: 1:19 a.m. Sink or Swim. Springtime. Two friends sit at the bar happily straddling the threshold of oblivion. They've been drinking since 8:00 p.m. First they killed a fifth of Cuervo at their Beige block apartment. Then they hustled over to Smoke's where it was amaretto sours, pitchers and Marlboro reds for the remainder of the evening. One friend just got accepted at UVA law that day. The other friend doesn't have class until 3:00 p.m. on Thursday. Just as Eddie Vedder begins waxing super sensitive to the tune of "Daughter," Joe the bartender walks over to the two friends with a small rocks glass in each hand. He slams a glass in front of each friend on the bar among the pack of reds, the pitchers, and the mugs which rise like islands through the expansive lake of spilt beer. Joe then reaches up above his head and seizes the liter bottle of Wild Turkey. He gracefully and professionally speedpours a triple shot of Wild Turkey 101 into each of the two new islands. Their brains devoid of reason, the two friends heartily throw down the triple shots without wondering who purchased them in the first place. This is heaven, thinks one of the friends: Listening to Pearl Jam, hanging out with my buddy, on top of my life, drunk as shit. No worries. . . Screen dissolves. The two scenes above are common. It is what we do. We drink, smoke, and do drugs for pleasure. We manage our lives in two segments: the segment of our life that we do not enjoy and the segment of our lives that we do enjoy. The segment of our lives that we do not enjoy is represented by our obligations and responsibilities. The segment of our lives that we do enjoy is represented by our vices. I am only a college student, but it appears to me that whatever equilibrium between the obligations in our lives and the vices in our lives has, in this century, shifted in favor of the Marlboros not the homework. This shift in equilibrium has fully administered its wrath on me. And this shift in equilibrium has kicked your ass too. Go on, admit it. We need constant mini–vacations from that which truly does suck in our lives. I need my hour of Sega a day. I am a slave to the fleeting buzz that a Marlboro red gives me. When I am stressed about how I'm going to come up with the 2.0 GPA to stay in school, I throw in a dip or a chew and wait for the freight train to hurtle through my mind. They own me. Philip Morris, Sega Corp., U.S. Tobacco Corp.; they all own me. For you saps who think you are immune from such vices, check out Anheuser-Busch's closing price for January 19, 1994 on the New York Stock Exchange: 48 1/2, up 1 1/2. Now for all of you who think you are too healthy, smart and sweet to smoke, drink or play vids, consider your University City Nautilus membership, your $700 Specialized mountain bike, and your frequent visits to My Favorite Muffin. These are your vices. The next time one of you suckers is enjoying a healthy Diet Coke after a gruelling, ten minute, leg enlarging stairmaster workout while sporting your $150 Reebok workout ensemble, stop and think who's behind all this. Try to imagine the fat slob CEO's of the companies you line up like lemmings to patronize in search for a pure and healthy life. And then, ask yourself who pays for their country club memberships, their mansions in Newport and their high priced hookers. We all do. There is no difference between the CEO of a tobacco company and a CEO of a Health Club company. To them, there is no difference between selling me Hockey '94 for Sega or selling someone else a $120 pair of Nike cross-trainers. They all own us. On the one hand, the marketing geniuses of the early twentieth century have conspired to invent unpleasant obligations and responsibilities for our society, such as work and school. At the same time, they have conspired to legally and illegally market vices for the same society to consume, giving it temporary gratification while making the captains of these industries obscenely rich. Could it be possible that this duplicitous act is a sign of the natural progression to Armageddon? There is something very Orwellian about this whole concept. Except that our current demise is much more elegant than Orwell ever prophesised. Today Big Brother is Joe Camel and the Soloflex couple, not that stiff, O'Brien, from Orwell's 1984 . This whole situation is thoroughly depressing – I think I'll go to Wawa and pick up a tin. Better yet, I'll go buy 100 shares of Anheuser-Busch at 48 1/2 so I can get in on this carnage of consumer sensibilities. Happy fucking New Year. Corin Brown is a junior Political Science major from Newton, Massachusetts. The Ugly Stick Chronicles will appear alternate Thursdays.
(01/18/94 10:00am)
California residents weren't the only ones shaking yesterday. Many University students were furiously trying to reach their families after a huge earthquake hit California early yesterday morning. Centered in San Fernando Valley, about 20 miles northwest of Los Angeles, the quake occurred at about 4:30 a.m. PST. The earthquake, which killed at least 27 people, measured 6.6 on the Richter scale and was felt as far as San Diego to the south and Las Vegas to the northeast. Lasting between 30 and 45 seconds, it was followed by more than 20 aftershocks -- one which measured 5.7 on the Richter scale. The quake awoke residents as it rumbled through houses, causing massive damage, and a loss of power and water for hundreds of thousands. "Members of my family were actually thrown out of bed this morning," said Wharton junior Jeremy Schwartz. "Things were flying across rooms." Schwartz said that while no one in his family was hurt, his house was "severely damaged" because the epicenter of the quake was only about three miles away. Damage to his house included a tilted chimney which will have to be rebuilt, cracked and collapsed walls, and broken windows. "For us, this is the worst earthquake since my parents have been in California -- 22 years," Schwartz said. College sophomore Amiel Weinstock said he heard about the quake from his father, who called early yesterday morning. "He said he wanted me to hear about it from them first instead of hearing it on the news," Weinstock said. "Just knowing that they were okay was enough for me." Weinstock added that his house also suffered damage, but that only material things were lost. "Everything can be replaced," he said. College junior David Doctorow was still not able to contact his parents or grandparents as of 9:30 p.m. last night. "I wasn't able to get through all day and still I'm not able to get through," he said last night. "Needless to say I'm pretty concerned." Doctorow said he heard a recorded message when he tried to call, which said that the "phone lines were occupied for emergency usage" because of the quake. Schwartz said usually during morning earthquakes, people wake up to "a very loud rumbling sound." "The rumbling usually comes with this rolling feeling which is hard to describe if you've never felt it," he said. "This one [was different because it] had a much more jerking feeling." Students also described how they typically prepare for earthquakes. "As long as I can remember going to school, we've always had to do earthquake drills," said Wharton sophomore Ella Kim, whose house in Los Angeles suffered only minor damage. "We learn how to cover our spines and crawl under the desk. "You're conditioned to do those things, but when?everything starts shaking, you don't really think about things like that -- you just run," she said. Schwartz echoed her sentiments, adding that when an actual earthquake occurs no one is really prepared. "As soon as you can realize what's going on, you try to get under a doorway," he said. "You hold on tightly to the sides of the door frame and you pray real hard that nothing drops on you. "It's a very scary few seconds," Schwartz added. But Schwartz said his family still tries to prepare by keeping emergency earthquake kits in the house and in each of the cars. The kits contain dry food, blankets, bottled water, first-aid kits, batteries and a radio. The last big earthquake to hit California occurred June 28, 1992. The Landers quake, east of Los Angeles, measured 7.5 on the Richter scale.Kratter named SCUE chair at elections By RANDI FEIGENBAUM Daily Pennsylvanian Staff Writer The Student Committee on Undergraduate Education elected its newest six member steering committee last night, outgoing chairperson Jonathan Pitt said. Engineering and Wharton junior Matthew Kratter was elected chairperson of the group and College junior Eric Stock was selected vice chairperson. "With the new president and the new administration coming to Penn, we hope to fill their needs for student input with regard to undergraduate education," Kratter said. Continuing current SCUE projects and beginning new ones are atop Kratter's list of priorities, he said. The University's calender and reading day schedule, inter-school minors, a proposal for rhetoric classes and Speaking Across the University are among the programs the new SCUE board hopes to focus on. He added that the group is also planning to develop a new University publication entitled The Practical Professor to discuss the "role and responsibility of the faculty." A 1995 White Paper on undergraduate education is also on Kratter's agenda. Stock said he wanted to better connect SCUE with the general student body. "I'm looking forward to making students more familiar with our role on campus," he said. "I want to make ourselves more available to student input and complaints." College junior Carolyn Choi was elected to fill the position of secretary and will become the group's first secretary since its founding. SCUE's 28 general members, along with the previous steering committee, voted in last night's election. Pitt reflected on his term as SCUE chairperson by reflecting on the issues SCUE tackled during his term, including the College General Requirement and the University's calendar. "I think we had a phenomenal year," he said. "I couldn't be more happy with the results." Pitt added that he had confidence in the newly elected steering committee. "I think the membership of SCUE wisely selected six individuals who will work together well," he said. "They are intelligent, articulate, knowledgeable, and committed to SCUE." Also elected last night were College sophomore Beth Tritter, a DP beat reporter, as treasurer, and Steering Members at Large Sharna Goldseker, a College sophomore, and Eugene Huang, an Engineering and Wharton freshman.
(12/02/93 10:00am)
Curbside recycling programs in West Philadelphia have gotten off the ground in the last two weeks, and City Hall officials report high participation. The Mayor's Solid Waste Advisory Committee was told at a recent meeting that recycling tonnage in Philadelphia has practically doubled since West Philadelphia was included in the city's recycling efforts, according to Nick Sanders, a member of the committee. "West Philadelphia was the largest number of households of any addition [to the program so far]," said Sanders, who is president of Spruce Hill Recycling Group. The West Philadelphia area was brought into the city-wide curbside recycling program on November 15, making it possible for residents to recycle metal cans, aluminum cans, glass jars and bottles and newspapers outside their homes. Recycling takes place on the work day before each residence's trash day, every other week. Tom Klein, director of education and promotion for the city's recycling office, said that many, if not all, households are participating in the program. "As far as tonnage, we got as much as 20 tons on our busiest day, and as little as six on our slowest day," Klein said of the program's first week. Regardless of the number of households that actually participate, Klein said, the recycling program ends up saving the city money. "It's cost-effective," he said. "It costs $123 to collect a ton [of recycling] as opposed to $143 to collect and dispose of a ton of trash," he said. David Hochman, president of the Spruce Hill Community Association, said it is too early to gauge the program's effectiveness. "Trucks clearly have been in some places, and haven't been in others," Hochman said. "I have a feeling there's a lot of variation in the neighborhood." Hochman, who lives at 40th and Irving streets, said his own block has been "ignored" for two pickups straight. Sanders, however, said he saw wide participation on his block at 45th and Spruce streets, with the blue buckets distributed by the city in front of every house on the program's first week. But he said the trucks came by much earlier than scheduled during the program's second week, catching the people on his block off guard. "I had to run out with my buckets when I saw them there," he said.
(11/05/93 10:00am)
Showered by fireworks and confetti, about 30 students took part in the IQ Society "Harvest Rite" near the McNeil Building early Wednesday morning. The IQ Society is reputedly a secret organization on campus whose purpose and membership are unknown. The students were told, by invitation, to meet at the "Eastern Foot of the 38th Street bridge" at midnight. After a few minutes, a series of bottle rockets and blackjacks were launched off the roof of McNeil. Confetti, gliders and leaflets also seemed to fall from the sky. Some of the fireworks got precariously close to students in attendance, although no one was hurt. One of the leaflets instructed students to "look in the rubbish bins near you," and upon examination, a nearby garbage can revealed two cases of Killian's Red beer. Other scraps of paper contained a lengthy message telling little about the organization, except that it hopes to "break down Penn's social, racial and gender barriers to form a secret community based on individual worth and a collective, committed whole." That's not much to go on. Students present were also curious about the organization, wondering whether they were "suckers" in a practical joke or legitimate "rushes" for the society. College freshman Paul Lisiak, who was present at the event, said he was skeptical at first. He said other freshmen were unaware of the society when he asked them about it. But after the fireworks started, Lisiak's impression turned favorable. "The IQ Society wants to bring back what college should be," Lisiak said, adding that he was impressed by the variety of people he met. "I don't think it was elitist, because the people seemed chosen because they were diverse. There didn't seem to be a stereotype or mold," he said. "You just don't see that kind of stuff at Penn." Last April, invitations distributed by the IQ Society also told invitees to meet at the 38th Street bridge. Once they were there, a message in a vial arrived via string from the top of 1920 Commons. That note read: "For the next 49 minutes, you should introduce yourself to as many people as possible, for there are members of IQ society present. Those considered for membership will be contacted tonight." These two events are the only known IQ Society events held so far.
(11/02/93 10:00am)
Beer bottles, Doritos bags and a lonely, forgotten, futon surrounded College senior Eric Schwartz as he stood shivering in front of the Palestra Friday night. He and dozens of other fans camped in front of the Palestra to get the best seats to watch the defending Ivy League basketball champions work their magic on unsuspecting Dartmouth centers and Yale power forwards. Of course, this happened before the ticket line got out of hand. But, if anything, the melee Friday night cemented the fact that Quaker fans have become more diehard than ever. "I sacrificed my stat test for these tickets," Schwartz said with a chuckle. After days of waiting, the area in front of the stadium resembled more of a refugee camp than a cathedral of college basketball. But most students didn't seem to mind the mess. In fact, they said they liked it. It made them feel grubby, like they earned it. "I'll never be able to do this again in my life," Wharton sophomore Marisa Carson said, adding that she was one of the few women who spent the night on the asphalt encircling the Palestra. "Between the people who have slept over, we have bonded big time," Carson said. Indeed, at the front of the line, strangers who had spent 30 or 40 hours with each other quickly became friends, joined by their universal love of Jerome Allen dunks and Tim Krug reverse lay-ups. "Now that I spent this time with them, the front row is going to be so much fun," said second-year medical student Praveen Raju, who quickly took the liberty to offer his season prediction. "They're going to win the Ivies," he added. "The Quakers are going to beat them all." The waiting paid off for most of the "squatters" as they were given a sneak peak of the 1993-94 Quakers at 12:01 a.m. Saturday morning. Penn's beloved hoopsters took the court and treated the fans to a 13-minute scrimmage as well as high-flying dunk-fest during warmups. At the back of the line, positioned behind hundreds of undergraduates half his age, graduate student Chuck Kanupke was just as excited although he did not get into the Palestra until far into the night. "It's an honor to be the oldest guy in line," Kanupke said, looking forlorn, however, about being last in line for tickets. Still, he said he and his friends, "Scream and holler and give all the cheers just like all the others." Up and down the line, past the roaring Penn Band and the students bedecked in their Penn paraphernalia, fans were forthcoming with predictions. "I think we're going to kill Princeton" said College sophomore Susie Korn. Engineering sophomore Adam Rubin was a bit more explicit. "The Quakers are going to kick ass!" he shouted.
(10/13/93 9:00am)
From Kenneth Baer's "Wired for Cable," Fall '93 I'm not ill. I'm a Phillies fan. For the first time in 10 years, the usually hapless Phils have outplayed the ex-cons of New York and the over-paid free agents of Pittsburgh to win the National League Eastern Division. I am ecstatic, and Philadelphia is going crazy. But it's an anxious happiness rooted in a combination of Philly's inferiority complex and the fact that we've been burned before. In recent memory, being a Philly sports fan is a lot like pulling out at the last second: you're so close and yet so frustrated. Despite the Phils' late-inning heroics and the accompanying trips to the Maalox bottle, the city loves this team. Even Billy Penn donned a gigantic Phillies hat to show his support. But why are we – those of us who either live in the area or venture off campus more than to go to a J. Crew sale – so taken by this unshaven, loud, out-of-shape rag-tag group of ballplayers? Because they are truly Philadelphian. Just look at our opponents, the Atlanta Braves. Atlanta is a booming, clean, new Southern city. Philadelphia is an old, pleasantly dirty, Northeastern industrial city. In Atlanta, their hero is Ted Turner, they drink Coke, and they eat peaches. In Philly, our hero is Frank Rizzo, we drink Frank's black cherry soda, and we eat cheesesteaks. The Braves' superstar is David Justice, a lithe, fit and ultra-cool fielder who is married to Halle Berry. Our superstar is Darren "Dutch" Daulton, who has a permanent shiner under his right eye. He's a huge, linebacker-esque catcher and is married to the national spokeswoman for Hooters. Philly loves these players because if they didn't play, they would fit perfectly into section 746. Through a stroke of luck, I ended up with two tickets to Game Two of the National League Championship Series last Thursday. My cherished seats with a street value upwards of $100 were in dead center field, last row, between the Phanavision and the scoreboard underneath the Marlboro sign. My seat back was the two feet of concrete that is the Veterans Stadium wall. Up in section 746, you see what baseball, or at least Philly baseball, is all about. No frills, no pretensions, lots of food, lots of camaraderie, and lots of mustard. Yes, mustard. During the third inning, my father and I – in section 746, fathers still take their sons, not business contacts, to games – saw that the guy two rows in front of us had his lower back covered with mustard. Hearing our laughter, the two burly men sitting in front of us leaned back and told us that one of them stood up to cheer and accidentally stomped down on a mustard pack. How do they fit so much condiment in that little package? We didn't know, we just watched and laughed. Since Atlanta kept sending the ball over the fence, we had to laugh at something. When you're not laughing, you eat. The souls banished to the far recesses of center field brought more than enough food for the journey up to the seats and a double header with extra innings. Hot chocolate, iced tea, sunflower seeds, pretzels, popcorn and peanuts abounded. And if the game lasted too long, between the programs and both editions of the Daily News we were set with plenty of reading material. 746-ers are real Phillies fans. A little girl in front me held up a sign praising the Phillies and CBS in a vain attempt to get on T.V. I didn't have the heart to break it to her that the blimp's camera was the nearest one, and we were too close for its lens to focus. Two older, distinguished, but not stuffy gentlemen sat next to us. They probably have been going to games together since the Phils played at Connie Mack Stadium. Next to them was the West Chester Marching Band's horn section. Decked out in old Phillies uniforms, they entertained the people who were too far away to hear the stadium's organ. Even when the game was clearly over (the Phillies were in a nine-run hole), section 746 still had fun. At one point, I looked over to see the sixtysomething man next to me standing on his seat, back to the game, looking out of the Vet. Soon, his friend, my Dad, me, and half the row was on their feet taking in the South Philly scenery. I even think I saw my car. Sure, it was disrespectful, but it wasn't booing. That happened much earlier in the game when Atlanta started to run up the score. For me, I joined this time-honored Philadelphia tradition when Bobby Thigpen took the mound to stop the Phils' hemmorhaging. Now, a good boo starts deep in your gut and is long, loud, and is usually followed by some clever statement like: "Bobby, you wuss. Go back to Chicago!" Mind you, this is what we yell at our own players. Even though our team and our city were losing, one teenage girl would not give up hope. Every time a Phillie was up, she screamed his name in a form of long-distance encouragement. "Gooooooo, Lennnny!" "Kill it Krukker," she pleaded as people in the lower sections filed out of the Vet in disgust. Like the working-class, rough-and-tumble group on the field, she wanted to win. But for her, the victory wouldn't mean a big bonus and national fame. She wanted them to win for her and for her maligned city. No matter what her head said, or what Mitch Williams threw, she believed. She had to. As I sit ready for Game Six shocked that it is even happening, I realize I should have stuck around in section 746 with that girl. You gotta believe. Kenneth Baer is a senior History major from Cherry Hill, New Jersey and the Editorial Page Editor of the Daily Pennsylvanian. Wired for Cable appears alternate Wednesdays.
(10/06/93 9:00am)
Take out the papers and the trash. Curbside recycling of metal cans, aluminum cans, glass jars and bottles and newspapers will come to West Philadelphia the week of November 15. "It's very exciting, and it's something that will require a lot of education in terms of the University's student body," Spruce Hill Community Association President David Hochman said. "Curbside recycling is going to mean some major changes for how people deal with their trash." Tom Klein, director of education and promotion for the city's recycling office, said off-campus residents living in houses with six or less apartments will be receiving blue buckets and recycling guides over the course of the month. Klein said the University's on-campus residences will still fall under the jurisdiction of the University's recycling program, and will not be affected by the new city plan. The guides instruct residents how to recycle and when to put out their trash. Recycling will take place on the work day before the residence's trash day, every other week. In addition, Klein said, the city is currently placing ads in community papers and arranging announcements through cable television stations. "You can't go out and do the city in one fell swoop," Klein said. By November 15, the recycling program will be fully implemented throughout Philadelphia, said Nick Sanders, president of Spruce Hill Recycling Group and a member of the Mayor's Solid Waste Recycling Committee. The new recycling process will be less expensive than the city's current trash disposal process, Klein said. While disposing of a ton of trash currently costs the city $140, it will cost the city $119 per ton to recycle. He said houses with more than six apartments and apartment high rises will not be part of the recycling plan. Sanders said the exclusion of larger residences from the recycling plan is due to the fact that commercial haulers, and not the city, are responsible for these buildings' trash disposal. "[People] will have to tell their buildings' management that they're very interested in participating in a recycling program, and they would like their commercial hauler to provide for that," Sanders said. "If enough people express that opinion, the community hauler might try to please them." In the past, off-campus residents were able to use the block corner program, in which they could bring their recyclables to designated corners around the area for pickup. But Sanders said the block corner pickup program, which has been in operation for seven years, will stop before the city's curbside recycling program begins. Hochman called the block corner program a "labor of love." "They've been doing it for several years, making miniscule amounts of money, and they can't wait to get out of that business," Hochman said. Klein said he feels the program will work well in the University City area. "I'm not sure what to expect," Klein said. "But given West Philadelphia's socioeconomics, I'd figure on fairly high participation."
(09/24/93 9:00am)
Football travels to Bucknell It was a momentous occasion when the Penn football team defeated Dartmouth last weekend. The Quakers avenged last season's lopsided defeat to the Big Green, and in the process made a statement that this year's Ivy title could be residing in Philadelphia. But don't break out the champagne bottles just yet, and certainly don't let the Penn coaching staff hear those kind of thoughts before the Quakers clash against Bucknell tomorrow at 1 p.m. (WXPN 88.9-FM) in Lewisburg, Pa. "If we don't give the respect that Bucknell is due, if we don't play with the same focus, if we don't play with the same intensity, if we don't play with the same fervor, then we [won't get the same results]," Bagnoli said. "I'm not happy with their practice habits. You can take that horse to water, but you can't make it drink. "Our coaches are on [the team] and we're trying to get them to understand that for the amount of time you got to get ready to play the game. You only play 10 contests. Now you're down to nine, and you'd better be ready to play all nine. I just hope that they're paying attention. That's all." This and other "kind" words have comprised the pregame messages of Bagnoli and the rest of his staff. The hope is that the players will set aside the joy of last week's win, and concentrate on tomorrow's confrontation with Bucknell (1-1) at Christy Mathewson-Memorial Stadium. "We should have come away with some momentum and confidence that we can compete with the better teams," Bagnoli said. "I think we came away with those. But also with it, we've got to get away from the complacency that 'oh gee I'm still basking in last week's glory and this is great now.' Last week's done with. We enjoyed the victory. As far as I'm concerned, Sunday it's over, and you look to the next opponent and focus on them." From senior quarterback Jim McGeehan's standpoint, the message is coming through loud and clear. "The coaches don't let up," McGeehan said. "They keep us focused. The coaches keep you in perspective. They keep you in check. You don't have to worry about getting a big ego or any overconfidence. If you do let up, you're going to get smacked by reality on the first play of the game." Heading into the game against Bucknell, Penn's biggest concern other than its own complacency is the unpredictability that the Bison could have after experiencing a week off. "We're not really sure what to expect [out of Bucknell]," Bagnoli said. "We've seen them [on film], but with a week off, that gives them two weeks to prepare a little different game plan and add some new wrinkles. What effect that will have I don't know. We're really up in the air in terms of new formations we haven't seen or different style of play. Those are some questions were trying to answer ourselves." There are some things that the Quakers can expect. One is junior quarterback Travis Kopp (14 for 27, 121 yards two weeks ago). Another is Kopp's favorite receiver, Patriot League sprint champion Damon Garner. But the Bucknell unpredictability again arises at tailback, where there is freshman tailback Rich Lemon. Lemon amassed 210 yards rushing in Bucknell's first game against Bloomsburg, but was knocked out of the Bison's game against Lafayette with a neck injury in the second quarter. Lemon will probably play against Penn, but it is not a certainty. Defensively, the Bison feature a 4-3 defense that showcases the talents of preseason all-league middle linebacker Russ Strohecker, who in Bucknell's first game finished with 17 tackles and a blocked field goal. But if there is a weakness to be found, it is on the Bison defensive line, which lost three starters of a year ago and did not generate sufficient pressure in their 31-14 loss to Lafayette. "They're inexperienced up front, but they do have some pretty physical kids." Bagnoli said. "They scare me," McGeehan said. "They can make some plays, [especially] if we aren't concentrating. We've got to maintain our composure [for the entire game]." As is the case with all sports, winning the game will be the most important thing for Bagnoli and the Quakers. However, it is also important for the coaches that Penn improve in some key areas and use this non-league game to tighten any other screws that might be slightly loose. "There are a few areas I hope we do better on [tomorrow]," Bagnoli said. "Number one is penalties. We obviously had 11 for over 100 yards [last week], many in crucial situations that got us out of field position that could have made the score a lot more comfortable than it was. I think the other thing we have to do better on is the kicking game. Some of the facets were very good, like kickoff coverage. But certainly we should be hitting more than one out of three field goal attempts that we try, and that's something we stress. Hopefully that will continue to improve." If the Quakers do improve, and the team heeds the cautious and wise words the coaching staff is throwing at it, this weekend could be another step in Penn's ultimate quest for an Ivy Championship. "The schedule played a little bit into our favor," Bagnoli said. "You have your doubts when you play a real good team early, but if you can come away with a [victory], then you have three non-league opponents and you have a young team and you hope you're going to be able to generate some momentum and a little bit more cohesiveness than we had. Hopefully that will make for a better offense and defense."
