There has never been question as to the need of erecting a memorial to the Dartmouth
men who gave their lives in the World War. And it is a need,—not for those dead, but for those living. The men who have passed through turmoil into quietude are undisturbed by what we do or fail to do in recognition of their sacrifice. We who remain, however, are sensitive to every day's delay in perpetuating their memory.
The recent suggestion of a Memorial Field is most fitting. The men who went into the war represented the physical flower of the nation. If Waterloo was won on the cricket fields of England, Chateau Thierry and San Mihiel were won on the American diamond, gridiron and cinder path, whether these were spread in vacant city lot, in stubble field or in some public space carefully devised.
Indeed America's great contribution to the war was a manhood possessed of physique plus intelligent initiative. It is for the American College to help insure the preservation of this type. To do so with any thoroughness means well planned extension of the scope of athletic exercise from specialized games for the few to supervised sports for the entire student body.
Dartmouth took a preliminary step in recognition of its responsibility when, some years since, it accepted the idea of a gymnasium as a shop big enough to do body tinkering for men by hundreds instead of by tens. That was a notable innovation. Now, with the insistent demand for outdoor facilities to match those of indoors, comes the opportunity for supplying them as a Memorial Field.
For such a Field preliminary plans have already been drawn. They indicate an enlargement of the ancient alumni oval by inclusion of the entire tract of which that oval is now a part. There will be room for real tennis, and for hockey, and for several baseball and football games at once, and for a class track meet at the same time. Incidentally there will be place for varsity contests, and stands to accommodate those who wish to view them. Round about will rise a fence of sufficient height to safeguard the inquisitive eye against splinters. But there will be no stadium and no bowl;— merely a splendid great College Field for the use of an entire College.
It is one thing to plan, and another to pay. Dartmouth's Memorial Field will cost $360,000: that is $4000 for each of the ninety men who died. It is in terms of ninety gifts of $4000 each that the project should be financed.
Of the money supply there are several potential sources. First, the relatives and friends of the men themselves are entitled to participate in what is, in many ways, of primary interest to them. In many cases-in most—such participation will not be possible, and individual sponsors must be found among the alumni.
Then there are the families of those young men who came safely home. That thankfulness for the preservation of dear ones might express itself in an offering in behalf of others less fortunate seems thoroughly reasonable. And there will be other individual gifts sprung from an impulse of sorrow or of joy as the case may be. Besides these, some group memorials may be counted on,—fraternities, friendly coteries, classes.
But there will not be—there must not be:—any general drive, any inclusive solicitation. The alumni as a whole have certain special responsibilities for College income, which they must fulfill. And, entirely aside from that consideration—this Memorial Enterprise is one that may not properly be signalized by hysterical hatpassing or clamorous appeals to sentiment. It offers an opportunity to a few men working quietly together to accomplish a large and lasting work which will bring satisfaction to them, benefit to the College and honorable recognition to the memory of young lives given in behalf of a great cause.
Recently President Hopkins submitted to inquisition by a newswriter in Manchester. True to traditional belief in an institution of higher learning merely as a sacred grove completely surrounded by dormitories, the scribe ventured the suggestion that Dartmouth's problem of growth would be solved by the addition of a few bunk-houses to the plant.
Apart of the President's elucidation of the actual facts in the case found its way into the papers:—particularly his statement that for general construction and endowment, quite apart from dormitories, Dartmouth needs between five and ten million dollars forthwith.
It was this report that duly furnished suggestion for an interesting fraction of that column regularly dedicated by the Boston Transcript to things academic, under the caption of "The Quadwrangler". The Quadwrangler himself, be it remarked, deserves his entitlement; something of an argufier, perhaps, but thoroughly on the square, he views college questions with a kindly, albeit sophisticated, eye. Here is how he puts the case of Dartmouth:
"Why do the sporting writers, particularly the football experts, persist in speaking of Dartmouth as a small college? For all athletic purposes its enrollment is virtually as large as that of any institution in the county. It hasn't Columbia's thousands and thousands of summer school and extension students, and it hasn't Harvard's thousands of graduate students, but it has 1700 undergraduates, all potential members of varsity teams and all in residence at the college. At no other college, perhaps, are conditions quite so favorable for the development of strong elevens and strong spirit.
"Ask President Hopkins ; he knows, and he's not averse to telling. If the rush to Hanover continues another whole college will have to be erected. It won't be enough to tack on a few dormitories. There will have to be another chapel, another auditorium and more lecture and recitation halls. In other words, the Dartmouth soil is now being tilled to the very limit. If a larger crop is wanted there is nothing to do but to buy another piece of land. No amount of scientific agriculture will suffice to make the present land yield a bigger return.
"The Quadwrangler gives President Hopkins the credit for considerable shrewdness in thus putting the case before the alumni. In a sense he is asking them to decide what the future policy and status of the college shall be. 'Here's the situation,' he says in effect; 'with our present resources and accomodations we can handle our present number of students. If you want us to handle more you will have to provide the funds, which in this case will be about $5,000,000. We will do as we have done this fall and reject annually large numbers of qualified boys who want to come to Dartmouth or, if you prefer and will find the means for us, we will expand as the times are demanding that we expand. Meanwhile don't forget that we're crowded.'
"With all due respect to the college and especially to President Hopkins whom he likes immensely, the Quadwrangler has never been able fully to understand Dartmouth's great popularity. It gives excellent instruction, but so do any number of Other colleges. Its campus is no more attractive than dozens of others. Its athletic teams are uniformly good, but several colleges have that same claim to distinction. Can it be, perchance, that there is more in the Dartmouth spirit that meets the eye ? Is there a strange lure hidden in that very confidence that every Dartmouth man, alumnus as well as undergraduate, has in his college ? If anyone knows precisely what elements go to make up the Hanover magnet, won't he please tell?
"The Quadwrangler has never met a Dartmouth man who didn't think Dartmouth was the finest college in the world, and who didn't do some of his thinking along this line right out loud. Moreover, the Dartmouth's man's opinion of all other Dartmouth men is almost as high, and he is indeed the exception who will admit that there is a single black sheep in the entire Dartmouth family. This spirit may appeal to the alumni of other colleges as bordering on the provincial but it. is a wonderful asset to the college. No wonder they talk so often of capitalizing it. Many another college would be glad to have it to capitalize."
Far be it from THE MAGAZINE to attempt an analysis that has foiled the Quadwrangler. It has equally foiled the shrewd intellect of Editor Kibbee of the Manchester Union. Yet he affirms the reality of a special quality of Dartmouth that is inscrutably apart, when, in describing the sesqui-centennial, he writes:
"There is something big here. I can't quite grasp it yet, but it is here just the same, and I sense it."
Let it go at that. What THE MAGAZINE would respectfully beg of the Quadwrangler is a prescription for regulating the attractive proclivities of the "Hanover magnet". At present that instrument is operating rather over vigorously upon public affection, without attaining a synchronously irresistible draft upon the public pocket book. And just now there is no mechanic around the works who knows just what button to push in order to shift the current.
