Editorial Comment

For opinions which appear in these columns the Editors alone are responsible

COMMENCEMENT AND REUNIONS

WHETHER or not the growing size of Dartmouth College Fill in time affect the nature and attributes of Commencement week, more especially with respect to class reunions, it is somewhat too early to say. It is quite possible, and indeed it would be rather natural, for a change to steal o'er the spirit of our dream with the augmentation of numbers and the growth of larger and larger classes. The change, however, has not yet manifested itself, because so many of the classes meeting for the regular quinquennial assemblages date back to the day of smaller things, which was a very long day indeed. We have become accustomed to the fact that the "center of gravity," to call it that, of our alumni body falls somewhere this side of 1912; that is to say more than half the present graduates belong to the more recent classes; yet the number of classes holding reunions will for some time to come include more classes that were in Hanover during the protracted period during which the normal class contained from 100 to 150 men.

The larger the class, the less the chance for the intimacy which marked the relationships among men in the time when classes were small. Thirty or 40 years ago, a man knew all his classmates and knew them rather intimately. That simply cannot be so often true where the class has from 500 to 600 members—more men than composed the whole college in the early '9os. Still it is to be hoped, and indeed expected, that with the new Dartmouth stabilized at a total of 2000 students there will be avoided that evil (for evil it seems to us) which in the more stupendous universities prevents the existence of anything worth calling class spirit. Our tradition is against its decay, and the distractions of a small country town are not so potent as would be the outside allurements of a big city environment. On the whole we should say, and we like to believe, that the traditional Dartmouth Commencement is secure—reunions and all.

It may not be amiss to draw attention here to the curious plan, now in use among many colleges, for "staggering" the reunions in a sort of systematic order, generally known as the "Dix plan," so devised as to produce a coincident reunion of the various classes, in rotation, that were in college at the same general time. Of course with the old system, which we still use at Dartmouth, whereby every class comes back every fifth year, the result is always to bring the same set of classes back on each occasion; and so it has seemed to some that it would be more desirable to vary the reunion period, so that in the course of several years each class would come back at the same time with various other classes that were in college during the same college generation.

It seems to the present editors that this argument is not particularly cogent, however. One has only a mild interest in the other classes of one's own day, and the time at any reunion is pretty well taken up with one's own classmates. Is the undoubted pleasure of seeing a few half-remembered men who were seniors, juniors, sophomores, or freshmen during one's college career, sufficient to counteract the delay which sometimes under the Dix plan produces a wait of more than five years between reunions? It is worth something to have reunions recurring automatically at perfectly well recognized and regular intervals. One knows they are coming and the fact that no other class having a coincident meeting was in college at the same time with one's own is of rather little moment.

Dartmouth is on the threshold of another Commencement and it ought to be among the most notable of this steadily increasing series. .To those who have no fixed reunion, it may be in order to recommend the experiment of coming back in an odd year, now and then, as a very enjoyable pastime. One is free, in such cases, from any set program of duties imposed by a formal reunion. There will be many acquaintances of the same general vintage who can be enjoyed the more readily because there is no prior claim based on one's own personal reunion. A visit to Hanover at Commencement in such circumstances can hardly be other than a delight.

NE SUTOR ULTRA CREPIDAM

THE eminent scientist who forsakes his special field to give advice concerning other fields may or may not shine—but generally does not. The outgivings of Henry Ford, for example, relating to other matters than the manufacture of motor-cars seldom awaken the response that an oracle would properly command. Hence when Dr. William Mayo, the eminent surgeon, declares that high schools, colleges and professional schools should operate on a 12-month basis, instead of on the familiar one of eight or nine months, he fails to awaken the same amount of respect that one would feel for a pronouncement by this same commentator relating to the ment of an ophthalmic goitre, or an inflamed appendix. Schools and colleges operating all the year round are not unknown, to be sure; but the ancient custom which closes the educational plant for at least three months in the summer still has much to commend it.

Dr. Mayo stresses, we believe, the fact that young people at the height of their physical vigor "do not need" three months of vacation every year—but are they the only ones to consider? How about the professors, who are no longer so young and vigorous? How about the wear and tear on the plant? How about the augmentation of the costs of education, already as high as can well be borne? It is easy to figure, on paper, that by keeping boys and girls at their education summer and winter during the dozen years that are commonly devoted to high school, college and post-graduate training, each individual might be hurried into gainful activity two or three years earlier than is the case now—but do we really want to do that, and may there not be compensating disadvantages worthy of considering? There is a lurking suspicion that it isn't a bad idea for even vigorous youth to pause now and then to play and give the education a chance to soak in.

As a matter of first impression, one may be pardoned for feeling that the great Minnesota surgeon is in this matter on the wrong track. Anyhow we should much prefer to postpone the experiment at Dartmouth until it had been made elsewhere and found not to be wanting in merit. Men are not machines—not even young men are machines. Even machinery could be overworked.

THE COLLEGE MAN IN AVIATION

LIEUT. Studley's article in this number and the recent visit of Captain Harry Lyon brings home to us in Hanover the great realization of the large occupational field that flying is offering to young men. The heroic figures that have already popularized aviation in America are themselves engaged in the business of making flying useful in its greatest degree to civilization and also in making aviation safer and safer each day for the man who can not afford to take risks. And following in the footsteps, or perhaps in the wing-trails, of these adventuresome pioneers come rushing the most valorous and daring of our youth, and among them a large number of college men, all bent upon making' life something more than a monotonous existence, upon embarking upon a new and unlimited career, upon choosing a field not hemmed in by conventional tradition. Those persons who claim that romance and adventure have died out in a machine age are invited to visit any flying field or training camp to realize that the spirit of adventure is just as keen in the youth of today as it was in the days of Raleigh and Captain John Smith.

Captain Lyon however had one word of warning to college men. And that was "Don't go into flying until you have finished college." The same sentiment comes from Lieut. Studley's story, and indeed it is a warning of the same type that has come universally ever since college played an important part in American life. Finish college first! Then fly, if you wish. The year or two that the entry upon such a career must wait, makes but little difference in the long run. The important thing is to do the present job well, to do it thoroughly, and to do it to the end. Men in business, and probably in aviation are a bit sceptical concerning the man who says "I was tired of college and left." The long grind of a business career has but little of the leisure afforded by college life and the man who becomes tired of the latter and leaps eagerly to the first job that offers itself is likely to become tired of the job before long. It is just that way with flying. The authorities want men who have finished one piece of work and are ready to take on another. The romance of flying soon takes on another aspect when the would-be aviator is confronted with hours and hours of tedious routine which will fit him for the big job of conducting a plane. Football practice is easy beside it. And the man who lasts out a college course is much more likely to last out the severe training which every student must go through before he attains his goal as a flyer.

The business of aviation has an enormous future, so great that we can but little realize what it will be in fifty years. Mr. Wells was wont to speculate upon a future full of fleets of a merchant marine of the air, and it seems almost inevitable that air transportation will grow year by year and eventually transform our entire system of transportation. In this enormous project college men are bound to play a part, and the elements of the business demand a flying knowledge of an air plane. The opportunity is here, but the opportunity is definitely for men who have finished one job well before they embark upon another.

THE NEW CARPENTER ART BUILDING

ALTJMNI returning for Commencement this June will see another development of the New Dartmouth in the Carpenter Art Building which is located northwest of the Baker Library, and connected with the library by a passageway which occupies an inconspicuous place in the architecture. This new building denotes the flanking movement of growth now extending out from the Baker Library as the center, and the nearly completed Sanborn building represents another step in the growth. As in the older universities of the Middle Ages, the library is the center of all college life; indeed in many old universities professors and students lived and had meals in the Bibliotek or Library and for their edification books were read to them while they ate. The reader sat in a "cubbyhole" built out from the wall with windows on all sides. The Carpenter building will not see such proceedings, although it will house the activities of a department which has been growing steadily at Dartmouth during the past 25 years, and it will offer a beautiful and cultural background to the study of art, and the appreciation of art, which has already attracted so many students.

As in the case of the Sanborn building, Carpenter will attract men who come for informal as well as formal activities. Students who are interested in art will come to the building anyway,—those who are attracted for merely casual observation or are drawn by special exhibitions will find themselves at home as well. There will be an air of sociability as well as study. What the fraternity buildings once gave their members,—cultural activities, a quiet retreat from dormitory life, debates formal and informal, libraries, and social quarters are all offered by this new group of buildings including the library , Carpenter and Sanborn halls. The Baker library has proved itself such a successful workshop for the whole college that the new buildings will meet similar demands growing out of the centralization of cultural activities in tire library. It seems as if the ideal conditions for meditation, discussion and study, such as marked the universities in the Middle Ages will prevail again. Men specializing in art will of course have access to the building at any time.

And the immediate need of housing the Art Department is imperative. The department has increased so rapidly that it has already outgrown three sets of quarters. It found its present refuge in Culver, the last resort of all departments before a new building is granted. By heroic work the Art Department has managed to carry on in Culver, despite the fact that Culver, built originally for an Agricultural College, possesses not one whit of artistry in any way. A more hopeless background for the study of art was never devised,—except of course that Culver did have plenty of room, the reason being that nobody else wanted room there. In such a dismal building the Art department has held classes, given exhibitions, conducted life classes in drawing, offered public lectures and served afternoon teas. The new Carpenter building fills a greater need on the campus than perhaps any other at the present time, and at Commencement the alumni will have the chance to see the latest edition to the Hopkins program.

ATHLETIC CLUB OF THE CLASS OF 1880(Taken in Senior Year) Left to right: Back roW; Cogswell Kibling, Samuel T. King, Gaines, John H. King, Charles S. Dutton; middle row: Flint, Ham, Clarence W . Spring, Sloane, Warner; front row: Dame, Teames, Danforth, Badger