Not So Long Ago .... Spring
SPRING, WHEN IT finally came, was worth waiting for. The board walks were usually taken up during Easter recess and, though a heavy snow might fall any time up till the end of May, the back of the winter was considered broken by the middle of April. The earliest varsity baseball games were played on the green while the regular field was still wet. Later on interfraternity games occupied the uptown diamond. Probably such a one is pictured above, else why should Bob Fish have just lined one out. Or has he? None of the spectators seem interested in the course of the ball. The occasional army uniform would suggest the spring of '17 or '18 as the date of this contest, but I can't identify any of the bystanders or even the catcher, unless it's Stuffy Carr.
Hums were held two or three times a week when the weather really got warm; and Sal and Breg followed the Bones JoyGyp Green tradition of music on the Commons porch. Before all this, however, the advent of spring was officially hailed each year by an informal campus celebration following the first balmy afternoon. Starting in various ways—revolver shots, cries of "To hell with Rich," or the sound of broken cider jugs—its exact program was unpredictable. A bonfire, a parade, singing, yelling, milling around. Nothing special happened, but the whole college was to be found on the green giving vent to animal spirits. There is only one word in the English language to describe it and that word is not, properly speaking, in the English language.
The class of 1916 started the Balmacaan A. C. in its junior year, and the annual field meets at Lake Morey were well attended through 1919. Since then they have degenerated into "Senior picnics," "Old Timers' Days," and such-like uncolorful fiestas. Troughing suffered a well merited end at the turn of the decade, and freshman picture soon followed when the spirit of play expressed itself too fully with lengths of lead pipe. The Mayoralty campaigns and elections have faded away as increased sophistication and means of transport have sapped the need of inventing entertainment with small apparatus. In the days when no escape was practical, we devised our own merriment, our own political campaigns, and best of all our own Salvation Army meetings. But then, we had our Red Spillane's and Jake Weatherby's; and the early twenties had their John Sullivan's and Will Nicholson's and Irish Flanigan's. Today the funny men write letters to The Dartmouth and crack wise (or nearly so) in the Nugget. Not today could the Dirty Dozen organize to keep robins off the campus before six a.m.; nor could even another Gene Markey (if there were one) muster the Punjab Fusileers for their drills and night combat practice. Half of them would be in Hamp and the other half reading papers to their tutors in Honors meetings.
Spring Baseball A hit for Alpha Delta Phi.
