It has already been pointed out that the University Theatre, if it has not become a tradition, has at least become a habit. The Harvard character, whatever that may be, has always revealed itself in many aspects, but perhaps it has never thrown itself open to analysis as frankly as it has at this new entire of entertainment. Some people, particularly the college officials, feared that the new theatre in our midst would lead to indolence and waste of time; others, especially the managers of the theatre, saw hopes of giving the Harvard boys some clean and healthy entertainment to take their minds off books and study. The latter group of people have, with time, shown themselves to be the more nearly right.

One might well expect a theatre in the centre of a college community to be the scene of much rowdiness and laughter. The woman cornetist, the soft-voiced radio singer and the company of female artists would all be expected to receive enough ridicule to be good for them and satisfying to the audience. Such, however is not the case. The dignified atmosphere of the place stands out so clearly that to some of the more collegiate it must be painful. Perhaps the aristocratic ushers with a college education and baby blue tuxedoes so impress the student body that silence and respect are the only sufficient forms of applause.

There may, however, be a deeper-rooted reason for the restrained and reverential air of the collegians. It may be the final manifestation of Harvard indifference. In Boston theatres one often begins to sentimentalize over the closing clinch of hero and heroine, only to be awakened by the solo kisses of the cynical. Here in Cambridge we are beyond this stage. To a Harvard man a kiss is a kiss, and only deserves a yawn. We are not only indifferent about our work, but also about our entertainment. Cynicism has given place to boredom.