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Editorially Speaking. • .
In the previous issue was an
article describing two nem
courses offered for the spring
term. BCI9B Sex Roles and
Lit297A Anatomy of a Mystery
Comp literature course. Both
were created by Dr. Sylvie
Richards. Not mentioned in the
article were the names of the
speakers from the Sex Roles
study course from the English
detment. So, without furthr
ado par
they are: Dr. Michel Sma ll,
Dr. Archie Loss and Dr. Diana
George.
Also in the last issue it was
reported that only 50 people at
tended the Snow Flake Ball.
Jovial Jolts
From Joe E.
By Joe Englert
Man, was I bummed out the
other morning. I got out of bed,
growled a few obscenities and
then scrambled around my
cubicle called a dorm room for
my bathroom supplies. I picked
up the soap that's "manly, and II
like it too", and the "toothpaste
that 4 out of 5 dentists recom
mened" and I began my trek to
the showers down a dreadful
corridor. Well, I opened the door
to the shower and jammed
packed in the bathroom, were
hoards of fellow students from
the second and third floors of the
building. They reminded me of
Steeler fans lining up for Super
Bowl tickets. (You see, the guys
from second and third floors had
to use our facilities when the
water pressure run out).
After shivering and shaking
through the shower, I started to
feel really sick, so I went to the
pay phone to call any doctor
practicing in Erie (I wondered if
they ever had doctor's games
because they always .1 actice.)
First of all, the phone .• • was
missing. (It was probably stolen
by the weightlifters down the hall
who rip them in half at parties to
show off. After finally finding a
phone book, I deposited a dime in
the coin slot. The phone ate my
dime and I shrewedly fell to the
floor feigning illness so someone
would throw me a coin.
No one did, so I went to my
room to dry off and change. As I
opened the door to my closet, the
rollers fell on my head from on
top of it. I turned on a light to see
how big the bump on my head
was. As soon as I hit the light
switch, it flickered like a
retarded butterfly and faded into
the nether world of G.E. 60
watters. The light was one of
those Penn State lights, you know
the ones that are guaranteed to
last a lifetime. Well, just like Joe
Paterno football teams and
Democrats, the lights never lived
up to their promises. I got in
touch with several folks who I
thought could help me replace the
light. Like the time the screen to
my room was stolen, they told me
they'd " look at it". Well, no one
looked at it or even glanced at it
for that matter.
I was thirsty after bitching all
this time so I went out to the pop
machine for a Coke. I put 35 cents
into the machine and as usual,
nothing came out. I punched the
machine and instantly, I beard a
can hitting the little ledge (I used
the old Fonzie punch but was
surprised I got results because
my strength is more like Jonie
Cunninghams). I picked up my
can (a beverage that all non-
Pittsburghers call soda) and
flipped off the tab while taking a
huge gulp of pop. When the liquid
touched my lips, I nearly spat on
the cheap lobby carpet. The
machine had given me a mixture
called Mr. Pibb. Mr. Pibb can't
be compared to Coke. It's more
like a second rate Dr. Pepper
with a trace of toilet water added
for measure. I looked at the
Actually, 50 couples attended the
affair. Also concerning the
5.U.8., an article chronicled the
discontinuation of the Coffee
House Entertainment program
due to Tina Marino's resignation.
However, Ms. Marino was forced
to resign by the members of the
S.U.B. and until further notice
the Coffee House programs have
ended. Que sera,•sera . . .
Just a reminder, that the next
Collegian is scheduled for March
20,1980. Hope y'all survive' finals,
the lengthy ten-day break, and
will be ready for an exhilarating
Spring Term (and then maybe
hell will freeze over).
calender and prayed for the day I
could go home to regular con
ditions.
Then I realized that college was
supposed to be. College is made
as miserable as possible so you
know what it is like in the "real
world," "life on the outside",
"the cruel world," "the big, bad
world," and all the other cliches
ever used to describe life. So I
carried on.
I looked at my obliterated
closet and realized it was
Tuesday, my wash day. I gazed
at my filthy, smelly Fruit of the
Looms and Lynyrd Skynyrd T-
Shirts and recalled that to do
laundry at Behrend (it required
Farah Fawcett's ransom of
change)._ .
I crawled down to the R.U.B.
desk to cash a check given to me
by Aunt Martha for change to do
my clothes. After I wrote- down
my Social Security Number,
name, address, number of toilet
seats at home, how many pets I
had, and my mom's mother's
maiden name, the girl looked like
she would cash the check. After
she conferred with the F. 8.1., the
C.I.A. and every teacher I've had
grades 1 through 12, she didn't
cash it (Aunt Martha, it seams,
had a parking violation in 1923
making her money no good to'
P.S.U.).
I finally ended up borrowing
change from my roommate and
went to funsville, U.S.A. com
monly known as the Niagara
laundry rooms. (I feel like a real
fruit when I'm measuring out
cups of Wisk and Clorox with a
little pink laundry basket that my
mother bought me, at my feet.)
Well after washing my clothes, I
had no where to dry them
because the dryers were full. I
noticed though, that the dryer on
the end had stopped spinning. I
started to embarrassingly fold a
whole load of girls underwear
and put them on top of the dryer
so my clothes could be put in the
appliance. Just as I was folding a
real sheer pair of pink panties,
about five girls came down to the
room to check their wash. The
one that owned the pink panties
had accused me of stealing her
favorite pair of undies. I
vehemently denied the ac
cusation as I slipped my quarter
in the dryer slot. Well, once again
a machine had done its little
mechanical part to ruin a
segment of my day. It ate my 25
cents without working.
After getting done with my
wash, it was late and I went to the
bathroom to brush my teeth. As I
scrubbed my teeth, I noticed a
sign on the wall that read "One
broken chair $25.00. Extra
cleaning of scuff marks and
general grease and grime:
$15.00". Penn State had gone too
far, taking my money again!
So, I want you my fellow
students to rebel! Argue and bill
Penn State for all the things you
have coming to you. If you don't
do it for yourself, do it for Aunt
Martha. Penn State's got her
checkbook unbalanced.
Beluend Collegian 1
Albee's "Everything"
"A Nasty, Funny Play"
By Diana Hume George
Albee's Everything in the
Garden is a nasty, funny play.
"God, the ambition you have to
have to overcome good fortune. I
haven't got it," says narrator
Jack, the picaresque character
who provides the play, and the
audience, with - a broadly ironic
perspective on suburban charm
Jack's quip is at the moral level
the play both parodies and
exemplifies. When Everything
reaches for profundity, as it only
occasionally does, it fails; but
when it skims the surfaces
(rather than plumbs the depths)
of our venality and corruption, it
succeeds admirably and
amorally. If Everything were to
be directed with terrible
seriousness, it would become a
slight and pathetic Virginia
Woolf. Paul Iddings directs the
Behrend Playersproduction with
a light and, I think, exactly right
touch for both comic and
dramatic effect.
The entire production is
smoothly and confidently
professional. (I've said
elsewhere that the Behrend stage
often offers better theater than
fairly hot Broadway tickets. Last
summer's Equus was better, to
my eye and ear, than
Pomerance's celebrated
Elephant Man.) The several
leads are all played with
balanced skill. The Behrend
company works well together,
both permitting and facilitating
ensemble and solo effects. Sue
Klein as Jenny, the suburban
housewife who turns tricks in the
afternoon for extra money—lots
of it—has fully established
herself as among the several
First Ladies of the Erie stage. To
all of her diverse roles, from the
coffee-wise Grace in Bus Stop - to
the noxiously innocent ex
cheerleader in Vanities, Klein
has brought well modulated
control and a stage presence both
easy and compelling. Dave
McNeil proves himself Klein's
equal here as Jenny's multi
cuckold and bewildered
husband, Richard. He must
project an array of moods, all of
which he does very well indeed,
in superb conjunction with Klein;
I was especially impressed with
his ability, throughout the last
half of the play, to maintain the
pained and pathetic stance, and
the constantly pained visage, of
the newly dubbed cuckold. Nina
DeFabbo makes Mrs. Toothe,
who could be relatively
unremarkable, into a major and
formidable character. She
deserves high praise for that
most difficult task: managing a
respectable, consistent hybrid of
British and Stage accents. No
small feat; a badly dope British
accent (like its counterpart, the
Southern American) can spoil an
entire character, if not an entire
play. AsDeFabbo plays her, Mrs.
Toothe is utterly sinister, ,but
impossible not to . hike. Greg
Terrell as Jenny and Richard's
son, Roger, is a show-stealer.
Ironic and witty—perhaps the
play's .. only legitimate moral
Bebrend Players Perform February 8-17.
touchstone--Terrell takes Roger
smoothly through the moves of an
adolescent more exasperated
than outraged by his parents'
moral turpitude.
The supporting roles in Act II
are played comfortably and
competently by Lori Gornall,
Mike Deely, Mary Ellen
Clemons, Robert Scypinski,
Randy Murzinski and Diana
Stark. Stark plays her character
as caricature, which is slightly
jarring in the context of the other
portrayals, which are straight;
but her marvelous mugging is fun
before it cloys. (I'd like to see
Stark show her stuff in a
straighter role, because I suspect
her of considerable acting
abilities that were veiled in the
caricature.) Randy Murzinski
deserves special note as one of
the husbands. Murzinski creates
a fine and funny character with
his few lines, primarily by body
movements and subtle facial
expressions, more indication that
Murzinski (the boy in Evros) is
one of the Players' most versatile
performers.
Several of Iddings' directorial
touches are superb, and worth
watching for; Jenny's extended,
instinctive response when Mrs.
Toothe throws money in the fire;
A Look At Valentine's
Days Past
By Joe Englert
Hey, its Valentine's Day once number of stages.
again! Lovers automatically Ages 0-5: I remembered going
envision, in their romantic heads, to all the little shops in my town
medieval angels slinging bows of with my mom and looking at a
love into mortals' hearts. bunch of pink and red glossy
Historians and "The hearts all over the place.
Untouchables" fans think of especially recalled when I was.
barbershops and the Valentine's four and I atetoo many chocolate
Day Massacre. (I loved the way heart lollipops. You should of
Walter Winchell, the narrator, seen the face of the store owner
said, "The Untouchables"). • when I got sick all over the
February 14 is remembered as cashews and covered them with a
the Valentine's Day Massacre by coating other than milk
my Uncle Vinnie, the florist. On chocolate.
that day in 1976 the competition Ages 6-10: My grade school
had an extraordinary sale on days. Everybody's mom would
roses that Made rumie go broke. buy their little kids candy and
Well, I look at the day in a Continued on page 3
latirnat Collegian
Gene Grygo
Editor
Melvin Anderson
Business Manager
Paul Elbel
Lonnie Gilbert
Bill Hegmen
Advisor: Dr. Michel Small
Jenny's back to the money as
Richard opens ten thousand
dollars she has anonymously sent
him; Jack's literal leap into the
room and the action. But the best
part of the direction is the tone of
the whole, one which allows us to
laugh outrageously at Richard's
lowest and most humanly
poignant moments. Gretchen
Foster's set design provides the
best possible use of space, ample
and graceful enough for the many
characters to trip over each
other's psyches without cram
ping their feet.
I save the strangest, and in
some respects the strongest, for
last. Bill Ingersoll plays Jack;
corrupt, smooth, charming,
disarming Jack. I'd have
believed anything he told me. It is
difficult to know whether the
audience's obvious attachment to
Jack is a result of the character's
intrinsic appeal, or of Ingersoll's
Frank Langella-Dracula
sexuality. At any rate, the
projection of that sweetly corrupt
(even, god help us, vulnerable)
sexuality is dearly the result of
fine acting. For those too timid
and sensible to act out • seedy
suburban sex. Ingersoll's Jack
will keep your skin vicariously
and pleasantly crawly for hours.
Member of
I. A I
Russ Miller
Photography Editor
1.1141Qi 4
February 14, 1980
Photo by Bill Hegman
Joe Englert
Assistant Editor
Mary Miseta
Brad Palmer
Tom Pyne
Pat Sedlak