Just back from our tour through several manufacturing plants, we find an all-pervading smell of rubber in our hair, clothes and taste buds. But it was an exhilarating experience and I think some of us are just beginning to realize just what business 'production in particular is all about. Another one of these trips would be in order any time the School should decide to plan one for us.

These of us who visited the Hood Rubber Co. had an enlightening experience. We now know the effect the average male has on the average female. As one man put it, "We must have reduced production 20% but think of the morale of the worker!" Think of the frustration of the workers, we reply.

Down in one department the Hon. Mr. Beckham stood over worker No. 357-908 watching her as she went about her rubbery task. As he rubber-necked, worker No. 356-667 called across two across of assembly line in her sweet little voice, "Hey, Edna, stop drooling."

Then coming home from the excursion the beaut of the day was pulled. As the bus started over the Lars Andersen Bridge an alarmed and Regulation-ridden Curly Drexler shouted for all to attach a line and buoy to their wallets.

Spotlighting the weekend will be the Regimental Dance at the Parker House. Tickets are still on sale. At the door the ante will be raised to $3, so it seems to coincide with principles of good business to make your purchase now. Gene Speer and Braz Pryer are handling tickets for Co, 4, while Chick Henn and Bill Cousens will sell for Co. 3. Ruby Newman and his society orchestra will play. (Just what society Ruby means is hard to figure out.)

Wednesday night over at the Students Club a little informal was held for the WAVES stationed at Radcliffe. It was a very homelike affair. The living room effect of the main room of the Club was not disturbed but rather was enhanced by the appearance of the visiting ladies.

These days are trying days for many of the lads as they plod into the highways and byways of the surrounding districts seeking, seeking--ever seeking for an apartment, a room or even a large size closet in which to hang the Coop's hat during our last four months. Some succeed, others don't, but all try.

Now the solution to all our troubles is at hand. Norm Brown, representing the Amalgamated Real Estate Dealers of Malden, Mass., promises an apartment or room of any type to all who will vote for him as Battalion Commander. All those who are interested will please drop by Room E-22, Chase, and pick up (1) a Brown button; (2) a marked ballot. Better hurry up; they're going fast.

As a final shot in this half-shot column we have selected as our guest writer the eminent poet, Gilbert M. Cross. At present, Mr. Cross is working on a revision of Business School case books. Soon, all cases will be presented in a more lyrical, less prosaic style. The following will be heard years from now as our posterity sits in on a Transportation class.

Ode to a Great R.R.

I bring you the song of a Railroad.

It stretches far over the land.

It's known to a thousand admirers,

From brakeman to low section-hand.

(Chorus--with gusto and whistles)

Wanna, wanna, Lackawanna.

King of all Railroads, Lackawanna.

Very great, and very old

Uses ties of purest gold.

Rails of silver, spikes of brass.

Ballast clean and smooth as glass.

With a muffied rolling rearing. Like a giant bird in flight.

Mountains, forests, fields and rivers, ghost-like whisper through the night.

Then a voice low, strange and mystic calls, ere comes the morning sun.

"Where's the porter? Damn the beggar.

Gad, I'll kill the son of a gun!

Chorus:

Lacka, lacka, wanna wacka

Take you there and bring you back-a.

Speed, dispatch and great precision

Chugging on its mighty mission.

Cunningham, the Bard of Rails

Says, "Lackawanna never fails."