If "40-love" and "30-all" are music to your cars, drop in at 67a Mt. Auburn Street almost any time, and pull up a cracker box. When not on the courts, coaches Jack Barnaby and Dick Dorson spend most of their time in the shop, discussing strategy with their players or demonstrating a new slice backhand--to the imminent danger of life, limb, and the surrounding show-cases. Squad lists and tournament draw cards litter the room, for this is the indoor center of Harvard's tennis and squash activity.

Begun back in 1924 by Harry Cowles, then head coach, the shop has concentrated in the better grad racquets and in tight stringing. Everett Pocckert was with Harry Cowles when he started the shop, and is now a co-partner. But since Harry Cowles' long illness a couple of years ago, Everett has done most of the work behind the counter. In the line of duty, he has done many good turns for the boys, even serving as an ex-officio date bureau between Harvard and Radcliffe tennists.

Most of the top-ranking American players have had work done at the shop at some time or other. Bill Tilden, Vinnic Richards, and Little Bill Johnston used to drop in at Harry Cowles' when they were playing at Longwood. George Lott and Berkeley Bell still send their racquets up here for restringing. And the shop annually receives its order from an old Harvardian, now living in Singapore. All in all, upwards of 75,000 stringing jobs have been turned out at 67a Mt. Auburn Street in the past sixteen years.

Harry Cowles was the father of squash-racquets here in New England, and as a result, the shop's reputation in that game is perhaps even greater than in tennis: 163 championship winning racquets have come from the Tennis and Squash Shop, and among the regular customers there have been thirteen national champions. Many of their winning racquets now adorn the walls of the shop--including those of last year's national amateur champion, A. W. Patterson '32, and intercollegiate champion Kim Canavarro '40.

Never to be caught napping in the racquet game, 67a Mt. Auburn now sports the latest in stringing machines--a nifty little job which runs on compressed air. "It takes the guess-work out of stringing," explains Everett, "and brings equal pressure all around the racquet head--enabling me to work drunk or sober."

Stringing machines, however, may be a little too technical for the average observer. He's more interested in the atmosphere of the shop, and in the trophies and pictures which hide its walls. The pictures especially are intriguing. They vary all the way from a fading photograph of Harry Cowles, forty-five years ago, when he was a ball-boy at the Newport Casino, to a crystal-clear shot of Champion Beckman Pool '32, in his underwear.