In spite of the ban which big bad Boston police have put on Esquire, a copy of that forbidden fruit mysteriously found its way into the Crimson office. More than that, it was coveted and scoured like a rare manuscript, and there was uncovered one article which all right-minded Harvard men should feel proud to read.

William Clark, graduate of the College in 1912 and the Law School in 1915, recently appointed to the Circuit Court of Appeals, and sire of Blair Clark, 1939-40 Crimson president, is the gentleman being back-patted. It seems that Federal Judge Clark has a quaintness-appeal. He is a two-fisted, raw-meat-eating, "trouble-shooting" bravadero; and at the same time a judge. This combination might ordinarily react like grapefruit and milk. But when a dash of good old Harvard indifference is thrown in with the mixture the result is something skin to gunpowder. The first big issue on which graduate Clark didn't feel indifferent was the liquor situation which existed in 1930. The situation was this: you couldn't get any. This sad state of things was enough to encourage revolt in the heart of any man who had experienced the liquid cheer which flows copiously between the Crimson and the Eli on countless occasions.

But Judge Clark decided to raise a kick. And he did, in his legal way. He called the Prohibition Act unconstitutional. Nobody really cares whether or not his argument was water-tight. The fact remains that people agreed with him, and after a while the Prohibition Act was repealed. Then, before the popping of the champagne corks had died down, this Harvard gentleman made sure that the legality of the liquor racket wouldn't be carried to extremes, by clipping the rather dirty wings of beer baron Dutch Schultz. By now, people in Jersey, (where the Judge was operating) were prepared for anything from this legal razor, blade-and they were prepared to like it. Well, the next objects of Clark's attention were the toes of "I am the law" Hague. They got stepped on. Result: "New jersey was practically, reincorporated into the United States."

Aside from the beaming glee which the Judge takes in going around breaking jinxes all over the place, he has other colorful peculiarities. He "would as soon cite Shakespeare or Gilbert and Sullivan as some legal savant" to prove his point in court; he likes to bully that specie of man named "lawyer"-to "prick their sensibilities, to bait them and make them squirm"; and, (strangest eccentricity of all), "the breath of scandal has never remotely touched him."

In spite of "da cops," Widener should purchase this copy of Esquire, bind it in Morocco, label it in letters of rare gold and slow it away in come ultra-exclusive stack for future generations to stare at in awe-this article; not the purty pictures hat go with it.