J. P. Marquand once remarked that to qualify as a "true Harvard man" a student must have heard at least one of Charles Townsend Copeland's Christmas readings, and must have gone to at least one Boston Symphony Orchestra concert. To the undergraduate who for four years has fretted over mid-years and chewed his finger-nails when he thought of finals, this statement may seem a bit of a simplification. But it has at least as much of Mr. Marquand's truth in it as it has of his poetry.

The ever-growing hosts of Harvard students who look forward to Copey's Christmas readings are ample testimony to what these affairs have come to mean. The ties of the Boston Symphony to life in Cambridge are perhaps a little less obvious, but they are none the less substantial and real. The orchestra has, in its own way, become as much a part of undergraduate experience to many as have the time-worn benches in Sever or prescribed physical education.

From the day it was founded, in 1881, by Major Henry Lee Higginson, until today, when hundreds of students who probably should be home studying crowd around the doors of Sanders Theatre to "rush" for seats, the Orchestra's career has been linked to Harvard.

Major Higginson attended Harvard himself, though he quit to study music in Vienna. In his spare time, he gave the money which built the Harvard Union and most of the athletic facilities of Soldiers Field. As a matter of fact, the University may almost call itself the godfather of the Boston Symphony, for Major Higginson is reported to have made up his mind to organize a symphony orchestra when he heard "how badly some Harvard musicians seem to play."

Higginson hired his first conductor, Sir George Henschel, when the latter conducted his own Concert Overture for the Harvard Musical Association concert. He then rounded up sixty of the best orchestra musicians he could find, hired himself a hall, and set to work. The conductor and musicians were trouble enough, but it was the hall that caused the real headache. It seems that in renting it out to the Orchestra, the owners had neglected to inform the hall's former occupants of the change. Since these former occupants were prize-fighters who used the balconies for workouts, and were in the habit of carrying some of their more battered compatriots across the stage to the dressing-rooms, no little trouble ensued. A collective sigh of relief followed the purchase in 1900 of Symphony Hall, the Orchestra's present home.

The Orchestra's early Harvard concerts weren't too smoothly run off, either. Someone once unaccountable began to ring the Memorial Hall chimes in the midst of a Haydn Symphony and the sirens and accompanying sounds of the arrival and departure of nearby fire-trucks were a continual menace. The fire department has since agreed to be silent during Sanders concerts, but there are rumours that guards are still posted around neighboring chimes. And old-timers probably shudder even now whenever a cymbal is banged.

These early tribulations have been almost forgotten, and in their place has arisen a great symphony orchestra and a great conductor. Dr. Serge Koussevitsky--the doctorate was awarded him by Brown University--has become a dominant figure in Harvard's musical life. His concerts with the Glee Club and the Radcliffe Choral Society are always popular and memorable events. With them, he has made a number of recordings. And the effect that he and his pupils--including Piston and Sloninsky--have had on the collective musical mind of Harvard has been immeasurable.

To a lot of people, going to a Symphony concert is a plain and simple evil, and not even a necessary one--like sending birthday presents to great-aunts. But more than a few Harvard jitter-bugs and Totem Pole devotees have echoed the words of one Freshman who, on returning home after his first year at college, was asked what he'd grained culturally during the year.

"I was too busy to do much," he replied downheartedly. "But you know what?" His face brightened. "I did go to hear Koussevitsky and the Boston Symphony once!"