The Undergraduate Chair
FORTY-TWO years ago the ALUMNI MAGAZINE'S editors made a fateful decision. They divided news of the College into (a) its undergraduate aspects, and (b) its supra-undergraduate aspects. They prefaced this portentous occasion, in part, as follows:
"The responsibility for the presentation of undergraduate news will lie, as is proper, with an undergraduate, Mr. Hor- ace E. Allen, of the senior class in College. Possessed of a just sense of values [Mr. Allen] should be able, each month, to give alumni a satisfactory view of undergradu- ate life as a whole, without the usual un- due emphasis upon those phases of it that, at times, seem all engrossing and that, by their prominence among the news items of the day, divert attention from activities of lasting importance."
Mandate firmly in undiverted mind, Mr. Horace E. Allen '12 then tastefully embarked on a monthly roundup of news: athletic team scores (very good that year), fraternity "cjiinning," freshman orienta- tion, activities of The Dartmouth, new student officers, engagements, marriages, deaths, "Songs, Cheers and Enthusiasm" and, invariably, et cetera.
Evidently the subjects change little. Only the content changes and the reporter. So here we sit, gingerly testing our venerable Chair, casting about for a "just sense of values," awed by the mantle of dignity in which Mr. Horace E. Allen, senior at the College, was once clothed, vexed by our unchanged task: tell about students. There is nothing for us but to get on.
About Freshmen: They are as naive as ever, and their exploiters are as predatory as ever. We recently witnessed '57 being gouged thoroughly, not only for rudimentary furnishings, but also for one "genuine medieval" velvet tapestry, one 1857 barrel-rusty derringer, two "Damascus" swords, one "medieval pike" (the tapestry rod), one straw donkey, one puppy dog (illegal in dorms).
Frosh are as confused as ever, too. This year their orientation program mixes the iron hand with the velvet glove. The Vigilantes are now cozily the Sophomore Orientation Committee but they wear the black skull-and-bones of yore. The SOC is forbidden to shake "Songs, Cheers and Enthusiasm" into freshmen, but if "persuasion" is ignored, recalcitrants face the quasi-judiciary wrath of some awesome upperclassmen.
About Sophomores: 485 pledged fraternities on October 14, emerging from a five-day gauntlet of glad-handing, ciderswizzling, class-cutting and shady pressuring. A few, as always, cross-examined Brothers of houses practicing racial and/or religious discrimination, either explicitly or implicitly.
Most, however, were too anxious to become Fraternity Men to worry about what sort of Fraternity.
About Juniors: They were jolted hardest by the crashlanding of the Air Force ROTC program. Seems the Pentagon brass suddenly ruled that all ROTC cadets must promise to fly, or accept meaningless Certificates of Completion in lieu of commissions, or get out. Hundreds of students, either not qualified for or not optimistic about the wild blue yonder, general-alarmed the Registrar's office for course changes. Since many stood to lose credits, the College offered one extra three-hour course for those in need.
This incident reflects a drastic change from two years back, when President Dickey predicted a "25 to 50 percent loss" of students through the draft, and when an emergency summer session was scheduled, then dropped. Now many graduates, anxious to get hitches over with, are finding they can't get drafted until months after they would like.
About Seniors: Many were mildly irritated with President Dickey's two-hour kickoff of Great Issues. The purpose of "liberating education" and of the College, they were muttering, has been defined upon appropriate ceremonial occasions for the past three years. But just how much attention is paid to bringing purposes and practices into line?
In this regard, Yale's bold new Plans A and B have intrigued many experimentminded seniors. In contrast, the Richardson Report, which is the basis for the College's present curriculum, will be thirty years old come January.
However, the lighter side of GI was evoked by course director F. Cudworth Flint who observed that his "trifocal lenses" are such a "triumph of optical engineering" that seniors had better make a "slight motor disturbance in the air" when raising their hands for questions.
About Etcetera: Jackolantern is dead. Gradually her naughty-but-nice character had decayed into a lewd, naughty and nauseous fossil. Late last spring she was financially and editorially tottering, so only the gentlest push we will not say by whom sent her into the grave.
Campus humor, however, did not die with Jacko. A new publication is about to spring full-grown from the monstrous heads of a newly-dedicated staff. Editor Bud Martz '54, harassed by imminent deadlines, had only time to sigh "We will be funny. We will not be juvenile. Go away. We will write about Dartmouth isn't this a microcosm or something? Come back later and I'll give you something funny. We will be funny. We will...."
And still another new publication is crowding the field. Station WDBS not only puts out a weekly program guide; now it's learned how to run pictures. If news from WDBS' United Press teletype breaks into print, The Dartmouth will call up the reserves.
Southbound traffic has been diverted, of late, from institutions of higher learning in Northampton, South Hadley and Boston to Lebanon. Female wrestling is the new attraction, and the feature-hungry Dartmouth has obliged with ample publicity. For example, Princess Maritza of Argentina owes her prowess to the benignity of astrology; Mars Bennett, ex-trapeze artist from Dallas, got her start through encouragement from Jack Dempsey; the love life of lady wrestlers is on the dull side because "somehow the boys are a little afraid of us." But intrepid Dartmouth reporters took the girls out for milk shakes anyway.
Evidently the Administration was so impressed by the success of last year's IFC sponsored identification cards, as a means for controlling the "big weekends," it decided to go into business on its own hook. Every student now carries his official College I-D card, sealed in plastic. Dean McDonald claims they are just a housekeeping convenience, and are not designed to police drinking whenever and wherever. But the cards have nothing but name, school, picture and date of birth.
If, in this first attempt, our "just sense of values" flaps too loudly alongside our "activities of endless triviality," we will try to clutch more ferociously to our Purpose as a Liberal Arts student when we tell more about students next month.
IN THE MOVIES: The Dartmouth Glee Club being filmed at the DOC House as part of a Cinerama production about New Hampshire in the autumn. Louis de Rochemont IV '52 accompanied his father the producer, to Hanover last month for two days of shooting of Dartmouth scenes that may be included in the Cinerama short. Glee Club songs will provide the background music.
With this issue J. Dickinson May '54 of Menlo Park, Calif., becomes the occupant of The Undergraduate Chair. He is Editorial Chairman of "The Dartmouth" and a member of Tau Epsilon Phi fraternity.
