Giris, the Yale Bowl was simply lousy with color this afternoon. There were just hundreds of those divine Harvards, with their knee-length tweeds, and as for the Yales well, I've never seen so many cute crew-cuts and those stubby little pipes. And such gentlemen too! I almost slapped one boy when he whistled and said, "Look at the open-work on that trolley". I turned on him, and said "Mind your manners." I could have died when I found he really was talking about a street-car.

Of course Lucius Beebe was there--in a herringbone plaid ensemble with hand-knit foulard tie. He's so exclusive he didn't speak to a soul--just sat there on the fifty yard line, changing his tie every quarter.

Fell in with a carefree group of those clever Yale News boys on the street-car going up to the bowl. One of them tried to give me a hot-foot with his cigarette lighter. He was all out of fluid though--one of the other boys admitted he had drunk it up.

Lucius Beebe showed up in a tweed-and-gaberdine reversible with an astrakhan collar.

Those two teams certainly packed a lot of punch and so did most of the rooters. (That's rather good, don't you think?) I'm so dumb about football--my escort (oh, no, I didn't go alone) nearly killed me when I asked him if those were draft numbers the players were wearing on their backs.

Back to clothes: everybody was wearing those lovely crinkly grey fiannel trousers effects, and I saw oodles of the smart new leather elbow patches. I suppose those boys have to bend their elbows a lot.

Of course, an old-timer like me kind of missed the good old raccoon coats--they used to be sort of like a haystack--if you got bored with the game you could crawl inside and go to sleep.

Notes on People and Stuff: Al Gilbert in a white turtle-neck sweater and a beret . . . President James Byrant Conant in an exquisitely cut six-button tweed--why is he only the fifth best dressed man? I don't think Max Baer's got anything on him . . . W. Russell Bowie, Jr., President of that delicious Harvard Lampoon, in a palmbeach suit and a steamer rug . . . of course Lucius Beebe came in a trolley car.