MEN OF DARTMOUTH
Despite the inventive genius of the independent young lads, however, it has been a dull time at Dartmouth—where something usually happens every minute—since last we went to press. Two rather sad announcements or events must be chronicled, nevertheless, for our insatiable readers.
The first was the business of Nelson K. Billings. It seems that Homer Low, attorney for Mr. Billings, communicated with Mr. Danzig, editor-in-chief of The Dartmouth, just before vacation. Mr. Billings, reported the daily, wanted to present the College with something or other in memory of his son who had died before entering Dartmouth. Mr. Billings was so eager about it all that he decided to come up to Hanover himself. And so, escorted by State motorcycle police and by Mr. Danzig too, Mr. Billings arrived one December morning at chapel-time and addressed a group of students in front of the Inn.
However, the generous old philanthropist happened to be just a wee bit "on the ball," as the saying goes and thus it was that after a dull and labored presentation speech concerning his departed son, his climax was a bit muddled. His gift, by the way, turned out to be the 1933 football team, when it should have been the 1934 football team; and since this gift was physically represented by numerous nondescript college janitors, it fell somewhat flat. The affair, believe it or not, was all a hoax: for immediately following, a banner bearing the legend "THE RETIRING DIRECTORATE OF THE DARTMOUTH WISHES YOU A MERRY XMAS" was unfurled from the roof of the Inn. It flapped rather wetly, come to think of it.
Our faith in Dartmouth men was further shattered upon consultation of the record of books missing from Baker Library. This despair was but momentary, however, and the faith partially restored after conversations with various men on the campus. The general expressions of wrath against the offenders leads to a startling theory: this is not an inside job! Seriously enough, too many volumes have been filched for one to believe that Dartmouth students have taken to wholesale petty larceny.
The trouble, of course, lies in the wide-open-this-is-your-library policy pursued by the officials in charge. The policy is naturally a splendid and reasonable one at first glance, but apparently it is proving a trifle expensive. Unfortunately, no adequate solution presents itself which would not involve changing the entire character of the institution. But then again, o£ course there is one: awakening the Dartmouth conscience to a concern for the public welfare—which should prove a relatively easy assignment for those young firebrands in Robinson Hall.
