Article

THE UNDERCRADUATE CHAIR

November 1959 TOM MACHURA '60
Article
THE UNDERCRADUATE CHAIR
November 1959 TOM MACHURA '60

PRESIDENTIAL timber or not, Nelson Rockefeller '30 came to Hanover, a town renowned for its sylvan surroundings.

The local chapter of the "Draft Rockefeller" organization had planned to demonstrate on the Inn corner as Governor Rockefeller rode into town. The crowd which eventually gathered included even some Democrats who put school ties above politics and would like to see "Rocky" win just so Dartmouth could join the ranks of other Ivy League schools and the military academies which have sent alumni to the office of the land second in importance only to the presidency of the Teamsters' Union.

But the governor, delayed by a flat tire, was re-routed through town and bypassed the mob waiting on the Inn corner. (To make amends, he spoke from the steps of Dartmouth Hall after the game.) He went directly to the Class of 1930 picnic at the Bema, where the atmosphere was more that of a summit conference than of a class reunion. Radio-equipped policemen kept photographers at a distance, and only a few curious spectators braved the precipitous slopes of the Bema to see how a governor eats. He takes his coffee with cream.

In a shrewd move reputedly calculated to appeal to the masses should he choose to run, Nelson Rockefeller temporarily relinquished the chauffeured Cadillac at his disposal and walked to the football stadium, where his seat, on the aisle halfway up at the forty-five yard line, afforded him multitudinous opportunities to shake hands, autograph programs, kiss babies, etc.

All in all, his visit here may be said to have been a success. Life carried a picture of the Dartmouth band at halftime manipulating rolls of tissue paper to spell out "NR." (to signify Nelson Rockefeller, and not, as some have alleged, Nixon-Rockefeller). And President Dickey has recently made public his support of "the Rock."

When Mr. Rockefeller was a senior, formal freshman orientation was brought to a close by a "rush" on the Green. Five footballs were put into play among the sophomores and freshmen, the object being to move the balls across the opponents' goal line.

Current refinements dictate that what must be the longest piece of two-inch rope in the Free World be stretched from one corner of the Green to the other, the freshmen at one end, the sophomores (and fun-loving seniors and juniors) at the other. A functioning fire-hose being placed at the middle, the tug-of-war is on. In itself, the latter method may be said to be the more humane of the two.

In the past several years, however, a trend seems to have been developing which, if carried to its logical conclusion, might well spell the downfall of this harmless exercise which involves the participation of more students than the annual Convocation ceremonies.

To wit: in 1957, the class struggle took place on November fourteenth. In 1958, it was the sixteenth of October.

This year, due to what the head of Freshman Orientation referred to as their "wonderful cooperation," freshman hazing ended with the tug-of-war on the eighth of October, a scant two weeks after the beginning of school.

If the purpose of all the various aspects of orientation be to make college men of high and prep school graduates, and all that is seemingly necessary is that they "cooperate," perhaps orientation could be completely eliminated by having incoming freshmen, before they even draw their first breath of crisp New Hampshire air, sign pledges stating they will cooperate.

Good or bad, the present situation seems a far wah-hoo-wah from that of 1832, when the entire freshman class was suspended from the College for throwing the stove of Dartmouth Hall into the river.

The psychological principle of reward and punishment has also been extended to other fields of college life. For instance, a recent Committee on Administration ruling permits well-behaved dormitories to petition for extension of the Saturday night hour until which women are allowed in College dormitories.

As it is now, women guests must be out of the dorm by midnight on Saturday. The new rule would sanction their presence until one o'clock in the morning.

Although most would hail this innovation as a great step forward toward something or other, I must nevertheless defend the position of the little men who will be caught in the pinch. For instance, what will happen to the student whose date, looking upon her weekend at Dartmouth as nothing less than a wonderful dream, turns into a pumpkin at the stroke of twelve? Might this not lead to many additional traumatic experiences? At least under the old system the couple would have usually parted before the bewitching hour, especially in the wintery half of the year when the elements prohibit most forms of outdoor recreation, including moonlight strolls by Girl Brook.

And there is also the problem of those who want to keep their dates in the dormitories past the legal hour just to add a bit of variety to their Hanover experience. Since the most likely time of discovery is the hour or two immediately after the legal deadline, the further inconvenience will be added that those with dates after hours will have to wait until two or three before being able to safely leave the dorm, as opposed to one or two under the old system.

Or they can of course just sit there all night and run the risk of some punitive action by the Administration. As the sage once said: "It is a small school, sir, but there are those who leave it."

Vice President Nixon, at a press reception held in Concord by United International Broadcasters Association of New Hampshire, converses with WDCR's General Manager Allan W. Cameron '60 and news reporter William R. Cogswell '61. The Dartmouth radio station covered Mr. Nixon's entire day in the state, obtained the only exclusive interview with him, and turned the day's work into an hour-long Public Issues Program entitled "A Day in the Life of the Vice President."

The occupant of The Undergraduate Chair this month is Thomas J. Machura '60 of Chicago, past editor of Jack-o-lantern and now editorial page editor of The Dartmouth. An English major, he is a member of Alpha Theta fraternity.