The Undergraduate Chair
Duckboards Give Trainees a Real Problem in Navigation While Rain, Sleet and Snow Prove Spring is Here Again
HANOVER'S GREETING TO THE MEN WHO entered on March 1 was wet. Dartmouth weather is no news to oldtimers, but the 800 new V-12 trainees and the members of the microscopic Class of 1948 were duly shocked. To say the least, one's first impressions of this town should not be formed in the beginning of March. The remains of last month's snow statuary all looked as if they'd just been through a very tough week-end, being quite gray, with all the sharp edges gone. During the first week it rained, hailed, and snowed. Sunny mornings melted everything to slush and mud, but by nightfall everyone would be spending some of his time seated on the glassy surfaces of frozen paths. Novice sailors (none of us dare to call them "boots") shivered in early morning chow lines but soon got used to our routine. Gradually they began to get uniformed, but before their gear was all issued some weird combinations appeared in the mess hall. Some of the lads were quite proud of glen plaid slacks surmounted by a new blue jumper with watch cap to match. A few tried wearing peacoats, but in consideration of the weather, gave that up in an attempt to hold out as long as possible. At present, with civilian creases pressed out of their bell-bottoms and the proper number of folds in their collars, they look like old tars, and their experience in navigating the swampland on the common seems to have qualified them for some kind of amphibious service.
The weather raised a considerable hue and cry for laying down the duckboards, early in March, but the Grounds and Buildings people, fully aware that in this town April's snows bring May flowers, didn't like the idea of putting down the boards and then having to shovel them from under the snow. But now the tipsy boardwalks are functioning in traditional style, and the only casualty is the occasional pedestrian w-ho hasn't acquired the mountain goat technique necessary to maintain equilibrium, and falls off the walk into a neck-deep mire. It's good for a few laughs, but in some ways is reminiscent of newsreels we've seen, and Marines, traversing the campus, have been noted to view the scene with a sort of wistful smile of anticipation.
As a sequel to the tragic history of the late Nugget, we have the news that staid old Webster Hall is presenting commercial movies in regular Hanover fashion. Rumors which began to fly while the Nugget was still steaming were soon authenticated when someone reported that men with yardsticks were crawling around the ceiling of Webster making purposeful grunts and calculations. Pretty soon welders were hanging a scaffolding of steel beams from the ceiling and there was no doubt that a projection booth was in the making. Now, a little concrete room is perched above the rear balcony and odds are being laid on the time when it will be shaken loose, which, since the beams are invisible, seems imminent.
It is probable that the ghost of our esteemed alumnus, Daniel Webster, is disturbed by the frivolity carried on in his name. An observer of doubtful responsibility reports the colors on the numerous portraits of Daniel which line the walls of the new movie house pale slightly during the evenings when the cloying whines of Hollywood starlets replace the booming oratory which the name and architecture of the place seem to deserve. For this reason it has been suggested that during film showings the building be temporarily renamed the Paradise, or the Bijou, just to keep a semblance of consistency.
And the air of dignity which is Webster's makes it fairly difficult to exchange cliches with Alice Faye or Don Ameche in the old Nugget fashion. The new set-up undoubtedly means fewer remarks from the audience to the great delight of some and to the obvious sorrow of many others. The undertone of crackling peanut shells which provided a comforting background for movies in the Nugget is also greatly missed by a few purists who like to keep traditions going.
The fourth estate has its problem too. A trainee who bumped into the Log's reviewer on opening night said, "I hope you're going to like a few movies this semester." The reviewer however is determined not to, if he can help it, and so it seems that our town's major aesthetic controversy will continue as in the past.
One of the '48s who just came to town reports that he walked into a small store on Main Street to buy a can of maple syrup and hadn't been in for more than a minute when a man eating a carrot rushed up to him, grabbed his hand and shook it violently, shouted in his ear "Tanzi!'27!," and then disappeared behind an over-size refrigerator in the dark rear of the place. He waited for a quarter of an hour until another man came up out of the cellar trap-door to sell him the syrup. We offer this as further proof that Hanover's normalcy has not been completely disrupted by abnormal wartime conditions, and that many of the good, solid things we have come to know and love will be here waiting for us when peace returns.
MASS DISTRIBUTION OF BOOKS under the Navy V-12 Program is providing the Baker Library staff with new experiences. Above, trainees are shown returning textbooks at the end of last term. Each copy had to be inspected and cleared before men could leave town.
