The Undergraduate Chair
IT was a raw, blustery afternoon just four days before Thanksgiving vacation, when Laurence N. Mamlet '54, a member of The Dartmouth's junior news board, rushed breathlessly into the newspaper's directorate office.
"The Indians are trying to take over Vermont!" he exclaimed, waving a tattered New York Times clipping. Three sleepy editors looked up from their typewriters, caring little at the moment for Indians, and wishing they were far, far from Vermont.
Mamlet explained: Iroquois Indians on three Canadian reservations, done out of 2,225,000 acres of the Green Mountain State in 1798, were now pressing claims for the entire northwestern portion of Vermont. Acting under the advice of Attorney Roland E. Stevens '95, the Indians were asking compensation for four counties, containing three big cities and the state capital at Montpelier.
One editor chuckled, another yawned, and a third volunteered, "Maybe the story's worth a couple of yaks." Mamlet was told to write a small feature for Saturday's paper, with tongue as far in cheek as it would go.
A long-distance phone call revealed that the governor of the threatened state thought the story was the funniest thing he'd heard in years. Said Emerson: "I don't think there's going to be any invasion." The Dartmouth's readers chuckled, and the Montpelier Evening Argus jumped on the laugh-wagon with an advertisement placed by the New Hampshire Chamber of Commerce: "Vermonters! Get Out While the Getting's Good," it warned. "Move to New Hampshire!"
But Lawyer Stevens failed to see humor in the situation. In a Hanover interview, he described the poverty of the Indians, and bemoaned the lack of funds to carry their just cause to the Supreme Court. The editors of the college paper were impressed, and thus Saturday's edition featured a half-serious editorial, titled "Wampum," advising Vermont to "seriously and objectively consider the case." But, at the same time, running slug-heads in the story facetiously suggested: "Give Vermont Back to the Indians."
The slogan proved the catalyst for a brainstorm. Monday night, the directorate of the paper met for its regular weekly get-together, and came up with two conclusions:
1. There was still some more life in the story.
2. And maybe the Indians could really be helped.
Thus was born the great crusade of December.
The Publicity
One thousand slogan buttons awaited the directorate upon its return from Thanksgiving. Organization and distribution were the paramount problems.
The first problem was solved with the formation of the "Committee to Give Vermont Back to the Indians." The directorate cast eyes about for a chairman, and found within its ranks a young gentleman by the Roger Williams '53, an assistant managing editor from Yonkers, N. Y., who vigorously insisted that he was no relation to the original Roger Williams, Indian ally and founder of Rhode Island. Protests got him nowhere he was stuck with the name, and with it, the committee.
The second problem began to be solved with the issue of December 4. The Dartmouth screamed its new slogan in 48-point headlines, and the new committee sent out 500 letters to newspapers and wire services all over the nation, asking for contributions and publicity.
All were glad to oblige, either through sympathy for Indians or lack of news. The Associated Press and the United Press picked the story up immediately, and Life and Time, sent inquiries to Hanover. A local news photographer accompanied Mamlet and committee member William H. Nickerson '55 to Montreal to investigate the Indian conditions first-hand. Stevens began a series of articles for the West Lebanon Valley News. Committee members pinned a "Give Vermont Back to the Indians" button on a 78-year-old squaw. Telegrams and letters requested buttons by the dozens. By the end of the first week, $100 had been collected, and things looked up for both the Indians and the committee.
The Repercussions
But the fight was not unopposed. Roger L. Emerson '56, nephew of the Vermont governor, said that the campaign was "silly" and publicly disposed of a dozen buttons in protest. A letter from a man from Maine approved of the Indians' taking over of Vermont, but, he pleaded, "Don't export any of the present inhabitants to Maine." A University of Vermont student wired that he wanted to support the campaign, but that he had to do it incognito. The reason: he didn't want to incur the wrath of his university administration, which was seeking a state loan from the next Vermont legislature.
It was a joke when one member of the directorate wore his button to dinner in White River, and a waitress asked "Do you think the Indians will want Vermont?" But it was a joke that was pounced on eagerly by the Vermont Development Commission in Montpelier.
"A plain case of sour grapes" was the official state reaction to the student campaign. The Commission pointed to a petition by 16 New Hampshire towns in 1778 to become a part of Vermont. Hanover was one of the 16 towns, they said, "and we turned them down, so they've been disappointed ever since."
Meanwhile a many-titled "big wheel" from the University of Chicago sent an uncashable check for $10 and a letter describing the College as "nonchalance and whiskey." Insults the committte could take, but there was no end to their disappointment when they noticed that the check was made out to "The Committee to Give Dartmouth Back to the Indians."
SEVERAL student governmental decisions none of them unexpected were handed down during late November and December. The Interdormitory Council, following the lead of the parallel IFC, passed a series of new regulations limiting the size of the Winter Carnival influx. Guest cards were to be required next month for the first time in dormitories as well as in fraternity houses.
By unanimous vote, the Undergraduate Council amended its constitution, to grant the Rowing Club and the Forensic Union permanent representation.
And Topliff Hall and Delta Kappa Epsilon were both put on social probation after an accumulation of grievances reached the student judiciary bodies.
Pledge Echoes
An early December poll by the Interfraternity Council showed that fraternity rushing rules were obeyed "about half the time." Forty per cent of this year's rushing class were "dirty rushed," while 60% had already visited houses illegally during the freshman year. Seventy-eight per cent of the sophomores joined their first-choice houses, and 50% joined the houses which "dirty rushed" them.
Sixty-eight per cent expressed indifference to discriminatory clauses, while 60% were concerned with national versus local affiliation. Fifteen men out of 443 polled stayed independent because they didn't like fraternities.
Polls notwithstanding, pledging held unpleasant memories for Robert N. King '55, who landed in a Boston jail after a misunderstood pledge trip. Sent by Alpha Theta to be photographed with a girl in a Boston college, King followed directions explicitly until he met a prearranged contact at MIT. He received what he thought was the girl's address from the well-meaning technology student, and, unable to contact her through formal channels, scaled a wall and entered a second-story window in a girl's dormitory. The idea, thought King, was fine. But the execution, thought he, was unfortunate. The result for King was two appearances: one before a Massachusetts Grand Jury, charged with breaking and entering, and the second, before a red-faced MIT student, with strong advice to check addresses a little more closely in the future.
Christmas Cheer
The cold winds of winter brought with them Campion's annual Dartmouth scarf sale, this year modelled by "Miss Smith '54" who turned out to be an ex-Smithie and a Mrs. At the same time came possible cheer for Tass McLaughry: news that Tayet Ramar 11, a Sioux Indian and a direct descendant of Sitting Bull, will probably enter college with the Class of 1959, and head directly for the football field. Ramar is an expert point-after-touchdown kicker for his high school team in Boston, whose only worry is that "my tribal name may look odd on a Dartmouth football program."
The Town and the College planned to hold the annual Christmas festival around the center-of-campus tree, and preparations were made in Rollins Chapel for a double service the Sunday before vacation.
But the biggest Christmas present of all was an announcement made in mid-November by the Dartmouth Development Council: Davis Hockey Rink is finally to receive artificial ice. With a little over $40,000 already collected toward the $110,000 needed, the long-desired improvement seemed assured.
And So Forth
Left over from early fall was a final study of freshman orientation this time by the '56s themselves. Conclusions reached seemed to indicate a partial return to a more rigid system.
Last item concerns "Fifteen Dartmouth Men C.O.D." ordered by a girls' college in mid-November. Social Chairman of New Paltz Teachers' College wired Dean McDonald on November 12, assuring him that she and 14 other girls would pay cash on the line to treat the requested Indians to food, drama, dancing, and "all-night comfortable accommodations." A bombardment of telegrams all week, reminding the Dean to PLEASE send the men received ample play in The Dartmouth, and ample if a little skeptical interest on campus. But fond hopes were not to be realized, for, two days before the dance, the Dean received a fourth telegram, informing him, "We got Harvard men instead."
There were no comments.
"THE DARTMOUTH" SELLS BUTTONS
