He's the fair-haired boy; he's the local yokel who made good. He's Whitey Fuller, Dartmouth's press agent.

Although a Dartmouth graduate of only a few years, Fuller may well be considered eminent in his chosen filed, sensationalizing his alma mater and primarily the Indian football team. From his pen comes the torrent of Big Green propaganda we read in the Boston Press.

But Whitey has apparently changed his tune and his strategy. Instead of playing up Dartmouth's prodigious strength as of past years, this fall's epistles from Hanover contain tear-jerking reports of pear material and a light and inexperienced squad. However, it's the same prolific Whitey. His articles may lack optimism, but their frequency, length, and intensity remain.

Prospects Played Down

For ardent alumni and press consumption, Whitey starts off the season with a neat pamphlet on the personnel and prospects of the team. A year ago its pages glowed with confidence to thrill the hearts of Eleazor Wheelock's sons. This fall pessimism pervades. Earl Blaik's imported Minnesota star, Bob Krieger, has been bailed abroad; but at Hanover, Whitey says "Krieger is no MacLeod by any means."

If Krieger's as mediocre as Fuller maintains, our conclusion is that Dartmouth is playing the sucker; for Bob annually pays his college bills and has money in the bank left over from funds unknown.

Inspired by Fuller, metropolitan papers report that the Big Green is woefully weak in material. Injuries and academic standards have riddled the team's prospects. The boys are so small that Fuller in an optimistic moment labelled them the "mighty mites." Why, there's not a man over 250 pounds!

There can be no denial of the success of Fuller's campaign. The public trembles at the thought of their future. Successive encounters with the glants from Saint Lawrence and Hampden-Sidney (enrollment 350) are expected to permanently cripple the Indian "midgets."

Gates Indebted to Fuller

But Whitey's success in the field of propaganda doesn't stop with the gridiron. Why, it was Whitey who landed Dartmouth on the front page of all the nation's papers with the story of Heavenly Gates, the quarterback who left the pig-skin for a religious retreat.

Instead of sparing the slightly unbalanced Gates national notoriety, Whitey imported sound trucks and reporters for one of Dartmouth's biggest publicity outbursts. We doubt if Gates found the "peace" he sought, but we'd willingly wager that with Whitey as his manager, he could clean up in a sideshow circuit.

All in all the publicity philosophy of Robert "Whitey" Fuller might well be compared to that of the press agent in the Broadway production "Yokel Boy." When the hero objects to unfavorable publicity, the agent airily replies: "You get thrown in jail. So what? ...Your name is mentioned."