DR. WHEELOCK'S JOURNAL

Containing a heartstopper in Cambridge and a plethora of anniversaries.

Norwich resident Edward Everett Emerson '26 ("Triple-E" to his associates) has seen every Dartmouth-Harvard football game since his freshman year 66 of them, as the teams did not meet in 1943-4-5 and he states unequivocally that the latest version of the matchup, on November 2, was the nail-biter of all time. Down 246 at the half, the Green tied it up at 24. Harvard went ahead by a touchdown; Dartmouth again tied it, 31-31. And with a minute to go, Harvard within easy field goal distance, both stands in an uproar, Dartmouth blocked the kick. If you are one of those who say a tie is like kissing your sister, your last name must be Monroe, Turner, or Grable.

That same day, not far from the stadium, Dartmouth's sailing team cruised to victory on the Charles River in die Schell trophy regatta, emblematic of the New England championships. Only two weeks before, on chilly and gusty Lake Mascoma, the varsity sailors had edged six other crews (Princeton didn't make it) for the Ivy League championship. The Green's 56 points beat runner-up Brown's 63 low score wins, as it does in cross-country. And in cross-country, Dartmouth won the Heptagonals for a record eighth time, with a near-unbelievable 1-4-5-6-9 finish. Women's soccer, too, shared the Ivy title.

Just one more sports item. As a gesture to bring together two of the campus's more mutually distrustful entities, senior Jon Yusen (we would be happy some day to commend him for a Near East diplomatic post) suggested a benefit softball game, on the College Green between the Hanover police and a fraternity pickup team. The master touch was getting Dean of Students Lee Pelton to umpire at first base, where even his closest calls were greeted with, if not outright applause, grudging approval. (It is our observation that the few decisions of another sort that he has been obliged to deliver have so far had the same refreshing result).

We recently read in the Chronicle of Higher Education that one of the dean's distinguished predecessors, Thad Seymour, just-retired president of Rollins College, "where he remains on the faculty as an English professor, is back in the classroom in more ways than one. He's taking two freshman courses in biology and mathematics, as a master learner,' to help his classmates cope with difficult subjects. He's not getting off lightly: math and science are his own weakest areas." His wife, Polly, told the press: "One thing about my husband he's very willing to be humbled."

Back to Dean Pelton: as part of another occasion, we learned from him that 85 percent of the class of '95 were in the top tenth of their high-school or prep-school classes, and 25 percent were valedictorians. Guess their "most common career choice" surprisingly, engineering. And if they stay around for Thayer school, or Med school, some '95s may still be here for the demolition of what is now the "old" hospital's main building, Faulkner, which is tentatively planned for sometime toward the end of this century. There should also be more than just polite discussion between the town of Hanover and the College about the fate of Elm Street, the short block just in back of Baker. Expansion of the library which expects to log in its two millionth volume'some time this summer will practically be a necessity by the time 2001 rolls around, but the town fathers and mothers may not be as obliging to give up a street as were their forbears in 1958 when South College Street was obliterated to make way for the Hopkins Center.

Said this magazine six years ago on the 100th anniversary of Rollins Chapel, "With the passing of required daily chapel attendance, there also passed, even among men not noted for their piety, a certain glory from the earth." The flame of this certain glory, we feel; has been kept alive by the Tucker Foundation, which has just observed its 40th year with a celebration of "Into the Streets," part of a nationwide effort to attract students to community service. Well over 400 students, including 100 new volunteers, College employees, and even alumni, joined in to build a Habitat home in Lebanon, repair and resurrect a homeless shelter in White River and a nearby community grange, and attend panels on today's countless challenges, in John Dickey's words, to "competence and conscience." Another example that his words have stuck: Dartmouth boasts the Ivies' only student body that participates in its local United Way.

As a sort of prelude to the $425 million capital campaign, which kicked off in exactly 48 hours after this was written, three most welcome gifts have swelled the College's coffers by $2 million. The Women in Science Project (its oxymoronic acronym is WISP) has received a National Science Foundation grant of $100,000 enabling the project to expand its purview beyond the freshman class, from which more than 100 '9ss have signed up. The W.M. Keck Foundation has come through with $300,000 for laboratories in the new Burke chemistry building. And Gordon Russell '55 has established a $1.6 million endowment in support of the College's Native American program, to augment directorship, professorship, and scholarship in what is already by all odds the leading such program of its kind. To paraphrase the late Senator Dirksen, a million here, another million there, and pretty soon you're talking about real money

If you missed being one of the nearly 1,000 alumni and their faculty mentors appearing at a dinner and symposia at the two-day campaign kickoff at New York's Lincoln Center, console yourself: many of the notables present will also attend future celebrations in eight or more other cities over the next year.

One more anniversary: the Nugget is celebrating its 75th this year, with a series of Sunday afternoon films of days gone by, popcorn sold at prices of those times, and a series of four handsome documents covering its colorful existence since its founding in 1916.

You may have your own favorite tales of rollicking student behavior at the old Nugget in your time, but perhaps you will recall ours. It was toward the end of exams, spring was in the air, and mayhem was on the loose. As it always inexplicably did, word got around: "Rush the Nugget!" The thundering herd crashed through the door, the ticket taker was bowled over, and soon all the seats were filled.

The film of course did not come on, but the head of Palaeopitus, to our memory a real stuffed-shirt type, took it upon himself to address the mob from in front of the screen: "There are 275 seats in this theatre and only 14 tickets have been sold." He paused to let that astounding fact sink in. Quiet. Then, from behind us, came a student's slow, sepulchral voice: "SOME... MAN... HERE... HASN'T... PAID."