University of Virginia Library

B-Ball With The Breadman (And Other Tales)

By W.W. BARDENWERPER

SYRIA, Va., Sept 20 – Two
minutes into the old Graves
place and about ten feet from
the car we are greeted by the
friendly voice of Robert
Canevari with the "ground
rules" we of the press will
obey. Actually, it is a single
ground rule to which we
subscribe–no quotations. It
seems a little stringent in light
of the absence (for reasons
mysterious to us) of our radio
colleagues form WTJU and
WUVA and the editors of the
Corks and Curls, leaving us the
only media representatives
present.

Nevertheless, we can
understand that with big name
law enforcement officials
present, including Carl Deavers
(who turns out not to be a
fictitious agent but a genuine
person with a photographic
body) there might be more
candor and real
communication if everyone
knows he will not be quoted.
As it turns out, no one says
anything newsworthy anyway,
so we really do not lose much
by following the rule.

The first thing one must be
aware of, and it is immediately
apparent to the participants, is
that no concrete policies will
emanate from Graves
Mountain...almost a relief to
us. (Who wants to hassle out
the intricacies of University
policies in a nice, peaceful
setting where we can all be civil
to each other for two days?)

After some preliminary hob
knobbing with the people to
know, followed by supper,
followed by more hob
knobbing–by this time with
people you like, we are treated
to the big show. Actually the
title, "Drugs and the Law"
ranks with "Principles in
Mechanical Engineering" for
building excitement. But the
all-star cast puts the audience
on the edges of their chairs;
an electric sense of suspense
keeping us awake through the
law and order speeches that
preceded the remarks of the star
of the show, Mr. Carl Deavers,
Special Agent, Virginia State
Police.

Curtailing Drugs

Nothing new here. It is a
downhill night for Deavers,
whose picture, as one student
points out, does not even
command the high price it did
several seasons ago. But, in Q
and A sessions later, we learn
that the police are no slouches,
have informants everywhere,
and will be back for a big
season in '72-'73.

The watchword on drugs is
"Penitentiary." The police
intend to prosecute for
possession of marijuana, and
the courts intend to convict. It
is a very sensible way to curtail
the drug traffic by arresting the
potential market, thus
discouraging the
dealers...sensible if you first
accept the validity of the
marijuana laws and the danger
of any and all drugs as
indisputable.

If you do not accept the
premises, remember, the word
for the day is "Penitentiary."
We are told no secrets, but we
get the idea that these guys
know our every move.

Games

The sort of communication
indigenous to these affairs is
the informal gathering. The
informal gathering is marked
by some initial small talk
intended to break down some
of the vestiges of rank that are
impossible to ignore even if the
name tags say simply "Edgar
Shannon" or "Alan Williams."

A few hours of card games,
old Whitebread/Hogshire stories,
and a fitful half-night of sleep
in nifty little bunkhouses
(everyone is mixed together,
but no coeducation... a source
of ironic amusement to those
administrators who finally
allowed coed dorms back in
Charlottesville) and we are
back in the mess hall,
bleary-eyed but still amazingly
congenial.

Losing Our Heads

Morning sessions are on
diverse subjects. The SAC
being of special interest to any
CD staff member, we visit an
SAC/Organizations and
Publications gathering.
Fortunately, the discussion
becomes abstract. Rather than
waste time with figures and
minutiae of which we are all
aware, we begin to talk
theoretical economics.
Naturally, this is where we
laymen lose our heads a little
because we just can't seem to
separate the real and the
ideal... a very refreshing state
of affairs to everyone–and
amusing to the economist in
the room.

We spend the other
half-session talking about
"Women and the University."
Well, yes, they do feel they
have special problems. They
feel the security on the
Grounds is poor, they feel the
lighting is poor, and they are
irritated by being told nothing
more than to be careful. One
way to help, according to a
consensus of women
apprehensive about walking
alone at night, is for friends to
offer to escort them home
from meetings, the library, etc.
Most of us, we assured them,
would be glad to help.

Still, one can't help
wondering: is there a men's
committee at Mary
Washington?

Johnny Greenback

After lunch, we attend a
session dealing with
admissions. Dean Ern, Provost
Shannon, and Alumni Director
Gilbert Sullivan are the answer
men, and their figures are,
unlike most statistics, quite

provocative. UVa., for
instance, had a growth in the
size of its applicant pool last
year of 14 per cent as
compared to 2 per cent
nationally. Further, the waiting
list was never touched for
admissions offers for the first
time last year, there having
been a much greater than
expected percentage of people
admitted who "cashed in their
ticket" and registered last
week.

Money talks. Remarkably,
80 per cent of the University's
endowment derives from
out-of-state sources who are
what admissions people call
"legacies." This means, simply,
that the Admissions Office
necessarily must listen and
consider seriously special pleas
for little Johnny if his daddy is
Class of '39 and is now
President of The First National
Bank of Cleveland where he
earns $90,000 and gives the
University a slice of that every
now and then. If Johnny has a
reasonable chance to succeed
at the University, he's in.

All this makes for an
interesting session. But, when
all the special cases are settled,
the admissions process really
involves excellent
recommendations, good grades,
and a three-hour test that is
more important than anyone
anywhere ever acknowledges.
For those who come from all
the Crozets and Criglersvilles of
the world, the SAT is the great
equalizer.

When this one is over,
numbers are ringing in our ears.
Each is larger than the one
before... and that is the
message most applicable to the
University. Expansion is
apparently no longer an issue.
It is apparently settled. No
conferences on expansion...just
on its results.

The Shutts Show

It is playtime again, and
people are really starting to
adjust to the environment
away from the office or the
classroom–just having fun. Our
basketball team loses by about
48-45...or, as all-American
guard Charlie Whitebread says,
96-90. After two hours, that
sounds more like how tired we
are.

Finally, we get to Traffic
and Parking. Mr. Shutts makes
a sterling presentation...a
good-natured businessman, this
fellow. Almost makes you feel
good paying $100 to park your
car.

His committee, despite
internal dissension (also
good-natured) is received by
plaudits and encouragement
from all but a few who still are
not in the spirit. Besides urging
Mr. Shutts, who is cautious
(thank God) with your money,
expand the bus service
iately, no one really lays
a grove on him. Traffic and
Parking has come a long way
and is going in the right
direction. All it must do now is
get the diabolical bicycles off
the Lawn.

Just before leaving, we drop
in on Mr. Saunler's
presentation of a 1921 film on
the University. It is brilliant in
places; hilarious in others, and
cynical toward the end. All
done silently, except for Mr.
Saunier's personal commentary
which keeps the audience
guffawing throughout most of
the film. A real tour de force in
twenty minutes.

Good, Clean Fun

We leave knowing a few
people better, and wondering
how this ambiance, this
community spirit–shattered
only momentarily by personal
opinions on specific issues–can
get back to Charlottesville
where it belongs.

If we at Graves Mountain
are an elite who got there on
the basis of who we know
rather than what we know, we
do not hear anyone admitting
it. Each of us thinks he belongs
here. Each of us thinks
someone not invited should
have been, and some who were
invited should not have been.

Anyone who stayed in
Charlottesville probably feels
he should be here too...unless,
more likely, he thinks the
whole thing is a farce, in which
case he should be here, too.
No farce; just good, clean fun.