Visions and Revisions

One of the first things I used to look at when this magazine arrived in the mail was the letters to the editor section. I always found it one of the most lively, interesting features of the MAGAZINE, if only for the range of human emotions on display. As you might imagine, these days that section looks a bit different to me. Nearly every morning, I step into the minds of one or two of you with my first cup of tea, to be variously charmed, outraged, amused but, to be perfectly honest, never bored.

This month's letters section fits the bill quite nicely. There are some letters that we don't print, and they fall basically into three categories: 1) letters which are gross- ly inaccurate; 2) all-out adhominem attacks; and 3) those missives which are simply in bad taste. If you look closely, you will notice a number of letters printed here critical of everything from the content and layout of this journal to actions taken by the present administration. Of the letters I chose not to print there have been only

two so far one was an attempt to be witty about a distinguished alumnus. He had recently appeared in the Rousers column and a classmate wrote in with the kind of comment which, uttered at reunions, beer cup in hand, would undoubtedly pass for a moment of light humor. But on paper, it has connotations I'm sure the correspondent never intended. Hence, the decision not to print.

One letter which will appear in the October issue was, I am embarrased to say, right on point. I must confess, printing a letter that makes you look careless or just plain ignorant isn't one of the high water marks of being editor. The letter is from another distinguished alumnus, Professor Carl Bridenbaugh '25, author of several fine monographs on American civilization which I remember well from grad school days. The good professor took me to task for using "Rev." before Warner Trayhnam '57 without the"the" that should precede it. Having written many, many pages on James Marsh (Class of 1817) _ that's theReverend James Marsh _ and having dealt with that very issue at least 300 times, I should know better. Let's just call it one of those errors that slips in in the foggy hours of the morning. It brings to mind Herman Melville's complaint to his London editor, "Would that a man could write something and then say, 'lt is finished.'

There is a point to the outrage in some of the letters, of course, and it's akin to a point George O'Connell makes in another way in his splendid essay, "The Dartmouth Disease" (pp. 33-35 in this issue). Simply stated, it is that for all of the other things that Dartmouth is, there is something about this college that harkens back to the realm of emotion. Al Dickerson might have called it the "It-is-as-I have-said-Sir-a-small-College"Syndrome, but it takes many forms. A vital letters section is a bill of good health for any magazine; in our case probably an effective way to express opinions on College matters. But there is one thing worth remembering: 28 or 30 voices out of an alumni body of well over 40,000 are not necessarily representative. That's not an apologia, but an invitation. I take my tea straight every morning. You take it from there.