As if Jim Curley and Ted Williams weren't enough to make any city happy, Boston is now going all out in municipal coddling with a big, snazzy parking area under the Common, and more than ever it seems as though the College is on the wrong side of the Charles. Here, the battle for car space is fierce and unrelenting. Local policemen are tossing off tickets to violators faster than candidates for the Republican nomination utter cliches. But across the river, in what is swiftly becoming paradise on earth, Model Ts will nestle side by side with Cadillacs, in ample space and perfect safety.

Boston's action shines forth as an encouraging example of what can be done in an age when automobiles are getting sleeker, and parking space prospects bleaker. In New York, car lots have arisen on steel legs toward the heavens. Boston, not to be outdone, is going in the opposite direction. Yet Cambridge--and particularly the College--seems to be caught in the middle, getting nowhere, and in its own good time.

The possibilities for going underground for local car space are, however, immense. Boston has its Common; the College has the Yard. While it is difficult to arrive at precise estimates, the amount of time, money, and labor spent on constructing and tearing down the commencement platforms would, spread over a period of years, surely be enough to hollow out a good bit of the Yard. Of course, once the lot is constructed, the expense of hiring watchmen might be prohibitive. Such an area would be shot full of dark corners, and infinitely more dangerous to undergraduate morals than a co-educational library. But if Boston, the citadel of careful manners, can risk it, the College should be able to take a few digs in the interest of its motorized clientele.