GRADUS AD PARNASSUM

A MAGIC NAME among Dartmouth men is that of W. K. Stewart. During four decades he has grown constantly in stature as one of the truly great teachers of his time. Stimulation of the intellectual interests of a host of former students has been a distinguishing mark of his genius in teaching. And he himself, throughout life, has constantly developed and broadened his own erudition and distinction in the field of humane letters.

Owing to an attack of illness in the late summer Mr. Stewart is taking a leave of absence this year. His classes are being handled by Herbert F. West '22, author of the biographical sketch which the editors are delighted to publish in this issue.

One of W. K. Stewart's favorite authors is J. S. Mill who, in his essay On Liberty, deplores "a state of things .. . (which) cannot send forth the open, fearless characters, and logical, consistent intellects who once adorned the thinking world." The College has among its faculty men who measure up to Mill's requirements. Mr. Stewart is a leader in this group—a teacher who makes his students think.

High Achievement

OUR WARM congratulations to The Dartmouth on the 100th anniversary of its publication, observed last month. May this ancient, battlescarred veteran of the Hanover scene now enter upon a new era of true prosperity and high achievement.

"High achievement"—fine words but not empty or without significance in this case. We wonder if any editor of the undergraduate daily of the College ever took over his new and responsible job without setting that goal for himself, without dreaming of the great forward progress that might result from his work. It is an objective worthy of the ambition of any man in the undergraduate body—that of stimulating constructive thought and effort in the College toward greater achievements by officers, students, and alumni.

Regardless of the monetary compensation involved, hard work on The Dartmouth is a labor of love. When copies of the paper are dropped in front of silent rooms along the warm corridors of dormitories on a winter morning they are taken for granted—just another issue to be hustled through along with dressing and breakfast. But beginning in our freshman year, when editorial heelers took weekly turns on five a.m. delivery routes, we acquired a thorough respect and first-hand knowledge of the task of publishing that sheet every day. It was exciting. One could see quick results in type of the work of the day and night before. Natural talent for writing came to the surface of the whirlpool of editors and heelers, all cooperating in the congenial task of "getting out the paper." ... Long hours every day, but with the smell of printer's ink, and that far-away goal of a real job senior year, always enough to keep plugging for.

Viewed as a vital and historic institution within the College The Dartmouth is hailed on its 100th birthday. Hard and faithful work in its behalf must be appreciatively recognized. There have been countless contributions of literary merit to its columns, and of notable influence in shaping undergraduate and official policy. Our respects and compliments to Editor Thomas W. Braden Jr. '40 and the staff of co-workers.

AT THE HEAD of Gradus this month is one of the more exciting of the old views and prints of the early College. It was the gift some years ago of William E. Tucker '10, and hangs in Dean Strong's office.

It is a water color and must have been done before 1839 because the Howe Library, which was then the President's House, shows in the lower right corner. This historic building was moved in 1839 to its present location between the Deke House and the Nuggett. This being the 100th anniversary of its location on the present site there was talk that "it might be nice to have an anniversary celebration." Some of the trustees of the Howe Library thought, however, that 100 years isn't so much and the matter is put off until a later century.

The artist? Mr. Tucker, the donor, knows only what can plainly be read on the back of the frame—"painted by Oliver Wendell Holmes." The work is credited to the eminent Dr. Holmes who was professor Anatomy and Physiology in the Dartmouth Medical School 1838-41, but there's no proof. Harold G. Rugg '06, assistant librarian at Baker, who has more information than can be found in books about these things (and many others), refuses to be quoted. He seems somewhat skeptical but there is no good alibi for Dr. Holmes as the artist. This makes it a more interesting if not valuable relic, and more exciting to freshman parents in Bob Strong's office.

Miracle Man

FOR ONE REASON and another, and at different times, someone is hailed as a "Miracle Man." This is our idea of the way to sum up, and no fooling, what Earl Blaik has done with the football team this fall. It has been what Bill Cunningham '19, in his review of the season in this issue, calls "a big little team." Big in achievement, little in natural strength, size, reserves, and the other desiderata that are considered essential to gridiron success.

"Miracle" isn't the right word, at that. The superlative quality of Big Green coaching, year after year, is no longer a surprise. Earl Blaik and his staff have set a high standing for themselves. Given a squad composed of a little better material, which we hope they may have in the future, they can maintain that standard. To expect this to be done otherwise is expecting a great deal of a group of players limited in strength and ability, facing a long schedule of the keenest sort of competition.

To that small band of spirited players, and to the gentlemen who equipped them for their big tests, our congratulations on a fine season.

WHEN THE COACHES shifted Bob Krieger '40 from halfback to end the result was successful. But there was still one objector. Professor Fred Longhurst, director of the band, has been piqued ever since Mr. Krieger matriculated because he isn't playing sweet music in the band instead of football. Here is a leading athlete who doubles in brass and starred with a clarinet in high school. (Mr. Krieger Sr. is supervisor of music in the Minneapolis schools.) Mr. Longhurst doesn't care Whether Bob plays end or halfback; he would rather see him dressed in white trousers and a green sweater, toting a trombone rather than a pigskin.

IN THE BONDS DEPT LOST: At DKE House Saturday night: Gray Harris tweed topcoat. If found please return to Bill Hayes at DKE House.

WILL THE ONE who took wrong grey reversible from DKE House Saturday night please return it. I have yours. H. Ingersoll DKE House.

LOST: New couvert cloth (Co-op) topcoat, hat, at DKE House Saturday night. Sam Stonestreet, 102 Crosby.

From The Dartmouth

End of an Era

EVEN FOR many of us among the so-called younger classes, that are not supposed to know much about the Old Dartmouth, there were three famous Old Timers who weathered hard winters beyond three score and ten. Each was a familiar part of the Hanover scene; they were spirited old men with a wealth of tradition around their names, a throng of friends among the alumni.

These three were "Bubby" Bartlett, "Bobby" Fletcher, and "Dude" Colby. Now the last has gone. The thought makes Dartmouth seem younger, a little more reliant on younger men. These three were strong links with the past. They are not replaced.

No one had a deeper reverence and respect for James Fairbanks Colby than Trustee Philip S. Marden '94. In his editor's column Catchall in the Lowell Courier-Citizen he recently wrote random paragraphs of recollection about the distinguished Dartmouth politico-economist. There's no disrespect, but rather delightful reminiscence (we'd like to have space for the whole column) in the following:

"Despite a youthful inability to assimilate his political and economic theories, I soon found I honestly liked Dude Colby. He wasn't the sort of man you took instinctively to your heart at first sight, because he made you feel so young and callow. Somehow you felt there must be answers to his objections; but as you didn't know them it was just as bad as if there weren't any. What you came to feel, possibly against your will, was a yearning for the rather rarefied culture which emanated from such a man as that. Whatever else the Dude did or did not do, he never made intellectual virtue repellent, or economic vice attractive. He lived in a different and loftier intellectual sphere, but you suddenly realized that it was good. And later on you came to know that this awesome professor was a genuinely human being, who wanted you to like him as well as respect him—which eventually all of us came to do. No man on the faculty remained more steadfastly the friend of his students. I found myself always calling at his house when chance took me back to Hanover the only faculty house I felt impelled to seek out for the sake of seeing once again the man within.

"The Dude was a lifelong bachelor—almost unique among the professors of my day. I couldn't imagine him in the role of a husband or a father. He led a sort of hermit's existence, with his sister as his housekeeper—and somehow it appeared to be the one conceivable situation for a learned man. His cordiality of welcome when an old student dropped in for a chat was warm and friendly; and, much to most visitors' surprise, he revealed a personal recollection of each man which was hardly to have been suspected from the recollections one had of his classroom. I wonder if he wasn't really all those years a lonely soul, craving a more intimate companionship than he understood how to cultivate? His idea of special hospitality was to invite you to breakfast—and in northern New England that meal is usually understood to connote some such hours as 7.30, or 8 o'clock at the outside. However, those who were thus singled out for honor were delighted to go; and they saw a different side of the professor from what those who saw him only on the rostrum of his classes. There was apt to be a slight feeling of surprise on discovering that he ever ate anything at all!"

Five Star ***** Reader

RIDING ON THE train to Boston with an alumnus who was graduated in the period of the 1 goo's, an editor of the ALUMNI MAGAZINE received an earful of praise for the emphasis which the MAGAZINE has placed upon recommended book lists for alumni. "With my class notes," this alumnus declared, "the section devoted to books has become a 'must' section with me. I like the wide range of selections, I like the recommendations by readers and professors in so many diffEerent fields, and when I go to a bookshop or a library I always look up the titles recommended in the MAGAZINE."

Curiously enough, although this alumnus had been an athlete in his day, there was but little talk of the football game on the following Saturday. "I made my beginnings of reading in college," he went on, "and have always been looking for lists of books which would keep me abreast of current thought. I read a great many magazines of different types, but I find nothing to equal the ALUMNI MAGAZINE. Professors Bowen and West have certainly furnished me with something I needed very badly. It's a wonderful thing to feel that the College keeps up its interest in its alumni, and it's an especial treat for a man who engages in business every day to return home at night with books that furnish new ideas and open up new worlds to the reader. Enough variety is given to allow me preferences and choices, and although it is impossible to read all the recommended titles, I feel a familiarity with every book mentioned."

Things like this make the editors feel that after all an alumni magazine does have some function in the world.

IN THE FACE of compliments, which are re-directed to Author Francis Brown '25, on the Frank Maloy Anderson article in our last issue, there is one correction that should be made. Mr. Anderson called this to our attention. It was the editor's error when he said in a prefatory note that the noted Dartmouth historian was a member of the Peace Commission. The American Commission to negotiate peace was a very exclusive group —President Wilson, Robert Lansing, Henry White, Edw. M. House, and General Bliss. Many of our readers were infants at the time. The editor had just been accepted for membership in the Boy Scouts. Professor Anderson was a stalwart on the staff of experts attached to the Commission, but not a member of the Commission.

We were eager to assign all possible honors to our esteemed colleague. If he had been a full-fledged member of the American Commission we are sure it would have been a better peace.

THE EDITOR.