Editor’s Note: Hoots of the Owl was a humorous gossip column first run in 1928. Throughout the years many Optimist staffers wrote as the voice of the Owl, Hal Hoots. The column survived for five years, though it was frowned upon by the administration for most of its existence. Eventually, the column devolved into personal attacks. In 1932, President James F. Cox shut down the column.
Lest we forget, colleagues – this is exam week and take this note: You probably (one out of every ten does) have three chapel cuts left to utilize. You’ve thought of it already – use ’em for studying that forgotten lore. – Jan. 30, 1930
In keeping with this rapidly changing world the English language is also undergoing some few transformations. For instance, “neck used to be a noun. We might also add that woman was one time a side issue, but now she is the whole show.” – Jan. 16, 1930
Have you made any resolutions yet? The Owl has a good one which will revolutionize the college industry if observed properly. Resolved, to take three extra courses in order to get more sleep during the winter term. – Jan. 9, 1930
The all-knowing Owl as he travels hither and yon, certainly has acquired that trait which his journalism has taught him: “The reporter must wonder at the things men do, think, and write.” He wonders what some students do, how some CAN think, and why some write. – Feb. 6, 1930
If poor grades in one course point to extremely intellectual sharpness in the extreme opposite, a certain frosh English class tutored by one exacting one, will turn out a bumper crop of Einsteins, mechanical engineers, and mathematical proteges (59 of them to be exact in my prophesy). – Feb. 13, 1930
Really, there haven’t been any events at the local campus in the view of a newspaper mind. The following occurred:
The juniors and seniors met and ate.
Paul Philips now owns a kittie-kar.
Two girls won some debates.
The orchestra took up chapel period time on Monday.
Prexy furnishes his best joke of the season (unintentionally).
Weather unsatisfactory – continues same.
– March 13, 1930
“She may be fat,
She may be chubby,
But Presley is going to be
Well, well, I ask you, doesn’t that make a nice little phrase for a nice little melodramatic romance. We agree. It sings the song of blind love in its prime meaning. A certain lad at the boy’s hall has gone so hog-wild (roughly putting) over a little dame that it has provoked the popular little phrase from a mirthful heart. Ain’t love grand and big? – March 13, 1930
We often wonder if Prexy Baxter is as “splendid man” as he would have us believe he is. – April 24, 1930
The owl is a bird who believes in free speech and doesn’t give a hoot what people think about him. For years the author of said column has been kept a public secret much to the chagrin of the Faculty and the Welfare Society for the preservation of Left-over Beans, meaning no remarks aloud concerning the bill of fare prepared by the school dietitian, Sarah. No one can truthfully deny the dining hall version, “One day’s meet is another day’s croquette.” – May 1, 1930
The Owl would certainly appreciate it if a sophomore girl would quit writing in asking questions connected with herself. When the Owl wants to give you any free advertising, you’ll know. – ??
“Dear Hoot: We want to know if it is true that the reason Lafon Derrick talks so much is that she was vaccinated with a phonograph needle. The Student Body.” – ??