"You haven't heard!" he exclaimed. "I thought surely you would know
about it. You're always talking about freedom to apply thought for the
good of humanity. Well, we're finally going to do something about it.
You'll see. Keep your ears open, Carlson." Then he turned and started
out of the room. He paused at the threshold and fixed me again with
his ferretlike eyes. "The Wistick dufels the Moraddy!" he said, and
vanished through the door.
And that was my first unheeded omen of what was to come. I paid little
attention to it. Lillick wasn't the sort of man who inspired attention.
As a matter of fact, I considered reporting him to the head of his
department as being on the verge of a nervous breakdown. But I didn't.
In those days, nervous breakdowns were a common occurrence around
college campuses. The educational profession was a very hazardous
occupation. One Southern university, for example, reported five faculty
suicides during spring quarter.
* * * * *
In the days that followed, however, I began to realize that there was
some sort of movement being fostered by the student body. It couldn't
be defined, but it could be felt and seen. The students began to form
groups and hold meetings--often without official sanction. What they
were about could not be discovered, but some of the results soon became
evident.
For one thing, certain students began to walk on one side of the
street and the other students walked on the other side. The ones who
used the north side of the street wore green sweaters with white
trousers or skirts, and the south-side students wore white sweaters
with green trousers or skirts. It even got to the point where those in
green sweaters went only to classes in the morning and those in white
attended the afternoon sessions.
Then the little white cards began to appear. They were sent through
the mail. They were slipped under doorways and in desk drawers. They
turned up beside your plate at dinner and under your pillow at night.
They were pasted on your front door in the morning and they appeared in
the fly-leaves of your books. They were even hung on trees like fruit,
and surely no fruit ever spored so queer a seedling.
They said either one thing or the other: THE WISTICK DUFELS THE
MORADDY, or THE MORADDY DUFELS THE WISTICK. Which card belonged to what
group was not immediately clear. It was not until the riots broke out
that the thing began to be seen in its proper perspective. And then it
was too late.
When the first riot started, it was assumed that the university
officials and the police could quell it in a very short time. But
strangely enough, as additional police were called in, the battle raged
even more fiercely. I could see part of the affair from my window and
therefore was able to understand why the increasing police force only
added to the turmoil. They were fighting one another! And through the
din could be heard the wild shouts of "The Wistick dufels the Moraddy!"
or "The Moraddy dufels the Wistick!"
The final blow came when I saw the Registrar and the Dean of Men
struggling fiercely in one of the hedge-rows, and heard the Dean of
Men yell in wild exultation as he brought a briefcase down on the
Registrar's head, "The Wistick dufels the Moraddy!"
Then someone broke in through the door of my office. I turned in alarm
and saw a huge three-letter man standing only a few feet from me. He
had been in one of my classes. I remembered something about his being
the hardest driving fullback on the Pacific coast. He was certainly the
dumbest philosophy student I ever flunked. His hair was mussed and he
was wild-eyed. He had blood on his face and chest, and his clothes were
torn and grass-stained.
"The Wistick dufels the Moraddy," he said.
"Get out of my office," I told him coldly, "and stay out."
"So you're on the other side," he snarled. "I hoped you would be."
He started toward me and I seized a bookend on my desk and tried to
strike him with it. But he brushed it aside and came on in. His first
blow nearly broke my arm and as I dropped my guard due to the numbing
pain, he struck me solidly on the side of the jaw.
When I recovered consciousness, I was lying by the side of my desk
where I had fallen. My head ached and my neck was stiff. I got
painfully to my feet and then noticed the big square of cardboard
pinned to the door of my office. It was lettered in red pencil and in
past tense said, "The Wistick dufelled the Moraddy."
* * * * *
The uprisings arose spontaneously in all parts of the country. They
were not confined to colleges. They were not confined to any particular
group. They encompassed nearly the entire population and the fervor
aroused by their battle-cry, whichever one it might be, was beyond all
comprehension.
I could not understand either slogan's meaning--and there were others
like myself. On several occasions, I attempted to find out, but I was
beaten twice and threatened with a pistol the third time, so I gave
up all such efforts. I was never much given to any sort of physical
violence.
One night, I went home thoroughly disheartened by the state of affairs.
The university was hardly functioning. Nearly the entire faculty,
including the college president, had been drawn into one camp or the
other. Their actions were utterly abhorrent to me. If the professor
was a green-top, or Wistickian, he lectured only to green-tops. If he
belonged to the Moraddians, or white-top faction, they were the only
ones who could enter his classroom.
The two groups were so evenly divided that open violence was frowned
upon as a means of attaining whatever end they had in view. They were
biding their time and gathering strength for fresh onslaughts on each
other.
As I say, I went home feeling very discouraged. My wife was in the
kitchen preparing dinner, and I went in and sat down at the table while
she worked. The daily paper was lying on the table, its headlines
loaded with stories of bloodshed and strife throughout the nation. I
glanced through them. Lately, there seemed to be a sort of pattern
forming.
East of the Mississippi, the general slogan was emerging as the Moraddy
dufelling the Wistick. West of the Mississippi, the Wistick was
receiving the greater support. And it seemed that the younger people
and the women preferred the Moraddy, while elderly people and most men
were on the side of the Wistick.