Looking back at Lawrence

How to Pick Up a Townie

From Vol. LXXXVII, no. 7, Friday, Nov. 3, 1967
by Neal HillerThere comes an evening in the life of every male Lawrentian when, it being later than 11:00 p.m., he feels the need to discuss the binomial theorem, the second law of thermodynamics, or Shakespeare’s sonnets with someone of the opposite sex. In order to accomplish this desired end, the Lawrentian in question must be familiar with the art and science known vulgarly as “picking up a townie.”

It should be made clear at the outset that there is no prejudice involved here against Lawrence women. Even if our male student happens to be dating a senior (the odds being only slightly above eight to one against this), he cannot contact her after 11:00 p.m. Since the magic card is useless in these instances, Rapunzel remains unaware in her tower, and our friend on the horns of his dilemma.

He must, therefore, head for one of the local spas in order to enjoy the pleasure of the company of an Appleton lady—which we have on good authority is not necessarily a contradiction in terms.

Because of the limited number of times such a feat is accomplished, there is very little dependable information on the subject. The library would only yield “How to Pick Chrysanthemums,” while the fraternity files were satisfied with “How To.”

One thing is certain: no Lawrence man has actually ever met a townie on his own, the normal procedure being an introduction by a friend—how this all got started we must leave to theologians. Conversely, there is no evidence that any Lawrentian has ever spoken to a male Appletonian, let alone been introduced, bartenders and Charles the florist excepted.

After being introduced, the only concrete dictum seems to be to play by ear. While this reporter was not in a position to test the effectiveness of that method, some general information that might prove useful came to light.

Lawrence men said: all townies are dumb—untrue, most of them talk a great deal; all townies are offensive—now, some of them have found it prudent to be defensive; all townies are uglier than sin—well, idolatry perhaps, or theft, few of them are really murder; all townies want to trap someone with lots of money and move out of Appleton —completely fallacious, several would like to stay right here.

A word of caution about subjects for discussion with townies is in order. There was general agreement among Lawrence men interviewed that all townies think that Newton was a cookie, Nietszche a middle line-backer for Green Bay, and Oedipus Rex a prescription, so these topics should be avoided.

In the interest of science, this reporter managed, through a friend, to meet several female Appletonians who said: all Lawrence guys (that’s what they call us, friends) are named John—no, one is named Botts; they are all “rich bastards”—a malicious lie, I know two perfectly legitimate Lawrence men; all Lawrence guys are inane—oh, come on now, some of my best friends are really quite ane; all Lawrence guys want just one thing—yes, to get out of Appleton.

Much to this reporter’s amazement and chagrin, when one of the subjects he interviewed was asked how many Lawrence men she had talked with in order to generalize, she replied, “Just you.” Some have called you myopic, and I believe them for I have seen you beneath the lurid yellow lights of College Avenue.

We would like to squelch right here the rumors that some Lawrence men take out townies even before 11:00 weeknights simply because they enjoy the relative innocence of automobiles, comfortable apartments, and negotiable hours; that the University fosters a double standard of morality by locking up its damsels and leaving its men loose with tacit consent to prey on defenseless townies. Completely false, the University merely perpetuates that standard.

One final charge leveled against townies is that they are oblivious to the cultural advantages afforded Appleton by the School. We are happy to report that this is untrue. One of our interviewees knew that Lawrence won the football game last week. She did not, however, know the score. But, then, how could she?

The library: Exotica and erotica

From Vol. LXXXVII, No 8, Friday, Nov. 10, 1967
by Ben Stotts

For Lawrence students who find the fish-bowls somehow inadequate and who don’t have the courage to tackle a townie, there is still hope. The Samuel Appleton-Carnegie Library is overflowing with smut. What is more, this plethora of pornography is all on the open shelves, as accessible to the driven searcher as the Farmer’s Almanac. The card catalogue is definitely the place to start one’s search. Under “sex” alone there are a steaming 3 1/2 inches of entries. Though when compared to entries under “The Bible,” (which take up four and one half drawers) 3 1/2 inches may seem insignificant, it should be enough to satisfy all but the most voracious reader. And this is not all. Only with the greatest perseverance can the lurid file be made to give up all its secrets. Although the bias is definitely heterosexual, deep in the stacks can be found The Sexual Offender and his Offenses, including The Normal Pervert.

The library buys the majority of its books at the requests of faculty or departments, and smut, therefore, has its place up and down the Dewey Decimal System. Historical Sex, psychological sex, biological sex, English sex, French sex, no one could possibly leave the library unsatisfied.

In an interview with the Lawrentian last week, Walter Peterson, librarian and associate professor of history, confessed, “I’ll have to see if we have any dirty books.” This statement itself is indicative of the liberalism that prevails at the library.

Peterson noted that The Evergreen Review was one of two publications stored in the asbestos lined steel vault of the library. The review is a hippie magazine with nudie pictures and articles such as “The Relationship of Religious Ritual to Orgasm in Frequency Among the Tribal Women of Fungoolistan.”

It is also interesting to note that the only other salacious book now in the vault is a rare volume by Mark Twain entitled Conversation as it was by the social fireside in the time of the Tudors, from ye diary of ye cup-bearer to her majestic Queen Elizabeth, imprinted by ye puritan presse at ye sign of ye jolly virgin, 1601. Art books featuring nude pictures, once a permanent feature of the vault, are now on the shelves just like atlases, to be examined.

In order not to lead eager readers of this report astray, I must try to keep my objectivity. For the Appleton-Carnegie Library plots in the most subtle, malignant way to make it as difficult as possible for students to satisfy their scatalogical and libidinous desires. For in fact, after considerable research, this reporter discovered that the university has gathered together a huge collection of pseudo-pornography to hide its few choice erotic morsels from the public eye.

Sneaking up to the card catalogue and peeking at “sex,” who wouldn’t be disheartened at the sight of The Decline and Fall of Sex (which has never been taken out), The Christina Interpretation of Sex, Sex and Common Sense, The American Boy and the Social Evil and many others.

This is the plot. Librarian Peterson says very candidly, “I am not against sex, and, at the same time, the few truly titillating, worthwhile possessions of the library are hidden among a huge mass of petty porno”—the kind that would evoke a yawn from even the most dedicated dilettante.

Lascivious pleasure, for the benefit of unaware but interested readers, is not to be obtained from the following categories of sex books.

First of all, avoid with a passion the type of clinical sex found in tomes like The Effect of Segregation on the Sex Behavior
of the White Rat, as Measured by the Obstruction Method
—you will be wasting your time.

Next on the list of ineffective erotica are the psuedo-psychological types that fill to overflowing the stacks on the 2nd and 3rd level. This dreary type is typified by such titles as “Personality Functions of Symbolic Sexual Arousal to Music” and “Sex-Role Preference of Young Children.”

The third and largest category includes all the colorless books that combine in their titles some variation of the theme “Sex” to make it sell, and a distinct and pre-Victorian disapproval of what they are writing about. Everyone can give examples in this awful category, I’m sure.

Bigoted things like Right to Life (on abortion), The Caricature of Love, Marriage and Morals are fair examples, and all should be avoided.

What’s left is healthy, popular, salacious smut. What precious gems of prurience, what luscious listings of lewdness—a pity there are so few. Try Sex and Repression in the Savage Society. One reader kept if for over a month, so enamored was she with the spicy descriptions.

Or, if that’s not enough, the history department offers Sexual Life in Ancient China, with illustrations and everything.

There’s always Evergreen, too, because no one can steal it, and it’s certainly worth a few hours of your time. Cream of the crop is a toss-up between Kraft-Ebbing and The Jewel in the Lotus as steamy as anyone could want. And there’s always Lady Godiva—The Future of Nakedness.

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