Informed sources at Princeton claim that alumni and members of a minority of the clubs "will never agree to this system." The University has no actual right to step in and take action without unanimous approval of the new quota system and without unanimous approval of the inter-club committee, something that seems impossible at present. Hence the current stalemate.

The history of the imposse begins in 1940, when Dean Gauss created an 18th club to absorb the 10 percent that wasn't making the grade at the time. Gateway, as it turned out, wasn't such a bad club after all, and for two years, until the first war class of 1942, virtually 100 percent of the college were clubmen.

Dean Gauss left during the war. Returning students were mixed up in potpourri of various classes following the war, and few felt like spending the valuable time in working out what to do with 10 percent. Gateway's clubhouse had been taken over for some temporary housing, and before anyone realized it, there were only 17 clubs again. The result was over-crowding, and generally un-luxurious condition in the clubs through the fall of 1948.

Many claim that it was in revolt of these crowded conditions, others bluntly allege that the class of 1951 was younger and somewhat set off from the classes ahead-but whatever the case, only 86.9 percent of the sophomore class was asked to join clubs during last February's bicker. Of all eligibles, a total of only 80.3 percent made the grade.

The current interclub chairman immediately announced his disappointment when the figures were tabulated, and he was joined in his lament by the Princetonian and officials of the University. The "Prince," in its next day's editorial, labeled the returns a "Club Flub," adding that it came as a real jolt to note that "13 percent of the first class to be admitted under the broadened regional admissions system should be refused or ignored membership in the clubs." At that time, one out of every five students belonged to no club, a figure obviously too high assuming the acceptance of the club system in the first place.

A few additions, on the insistence of the Uni-

versity and through the first fall bicker ever held, this term have swollen the total number of club-members to 1504.

Dean Godolphin has stated his objective. He sees no solution to the problem other than the acceptance of the entire college into the clubs, an institutions he expects to last for quite some time. But as he points out, the jump from 90 to 100 percent should be accomplished all at once, and, of course, as soon as possible. Should the percentage increase only gradually, non-acceptance would soon prove harder for, say, four percent of the college than it now does for ten. Other theorists, far in the minority, propose that a 60-10 ration would be even better.

As Princeton continues to fight for 100 percent club membership, those clubs wishing to keep their numbers at a hand-picked minority argue that they just haven't got room for any more members. True as it is that the average club has doubled in size before the war, and now averages about 90 members, there are holes in this arguments. Most members will individually admit that every club could manager to survive by absorbing its share of the unelected students, an average of ten apiece, without seriously affecting its dining hall service or over-crowding its other facilities. And then there are the other statistics that show only 32.1 percent of the eligible belonging to the Jewish faith the have been elected.

Whatever the excuses may be, the majority of students can find no causes for leaving out the 10 percent. As the Princeton pointed out following last spring's bicker, in a body of young men capable of gaining admission to Princeton "there is no such animal as a socially undesirable student." To solve the situation, the paper called for "more initiative from the men on Prospect Street," the same sort of initiative that got the whole system rolling seventy years ago