Public opinion against the Germans had begun to cool by this time, and the Bolsheviks became the new target, zealous patriots made accusations where, particularly in American colleges, with the University getting more its share of abuse. In those days students didn't stage riots--only an occasional "Revoit of the Proletariat."

February of 1927 saw the famous University Theater disturbance, an affair rather similar to the recent Pogo incident. It all started when a crowd of undergraduates left the U.T. after a "Mid-Night Smoker" and gathered around two townies who were fighting.

A policeman moved in to break up the trouble, only to stop back suddenly and hold the group at bay with his revolver. He was joined shortly by four paddy wagone, out of which emerged 40 cops. Use of night sticks aided in the arrest of 39 rioters; among those booked was a Somerville druggist, who happened to get off a bus at the wrong time.

Four students and two policemen came out of the melee badly hurt, and President Lowell requested resignation of four of the law enforcers. In his statement, Judge Arthur P. Stone said. "There can be no excuse for three officers beating one man of ordinary physique." The CRIMSON editorial of the day claimed. "The police created a riot before quelling it."

In the first trial of the case, 23 were acquitted, two were sentenced to 10 days in the House of Correction plus a $25 fine, and the rest were meted out various fines. The appeal was postponed four times, and when it finally took place two months later, the students pleaded nolo contendere and were put on a 9-month probation period by the East Cambridge Superior Court.

Although the remainder of the twenties and early thirties saw frequent anti-Prohibition mass meetings and even more frequent Volstead violations in private, the next full-scale riot did not occur until the spring of 1932.

At that time, about 2000 stormed about from 'Cliffe to the river, begining after dinner and not retiring until 1 a.m. in the longest-lasting outbreak in the history of the school. The business started over some stolen bell clappers but soon degenerated into a run-of-the-mill riot.

Students rocked buses from side to side and gave trolley cars a thorough going-over, until the police arrived with a new weapon, tear gas bombs. The crowd retaliated with eggs, while eight from their midst were being arrested.

In a subsequent action, the University put 16 on probation; District Attorney Warren L. Bishop's report called the evening affair a "direct assault upon society." The next serious assault took place five years later.

Ironically enough, Dean Hanford had just prepared a message warning of "severance of connection" for fracas participation: and the night before it was to be published, the disturbance took place.

A minor water-fight began in the Yard and spread to the Square despite the efforts of University police to quell it. Over 200 undergraduates soon joined in on the fun before the familiar sirens were heard screaming down Mass. Avenue.

As rioters began to pull trolley poles from the wires, the police trotted out their trusty tear gas guns. They fired the gas right into the face of the crowd, but to no avail except for the fainting of one woman.

With the familiar yell of "Up to Radcliffe", the mob headed north. One group built a monstrous bonfire, while another constructed a barricade across Concord Avenue. When the smoke and gas had cleared, only one student had been arrested, but 400 others went home minus their Bursar's cards.

The one unhappy individual paid a $10 fine, and this time, Judge Stone stated. "There seems to be some idea that there is something sacred about the person. "There seems to be some idea that there is something sacred about the person of a Tech or Harvard student and that the police should not touch them. That is not the fact."

In the years that followed, undergraduates favoring war with Germany an those against it split into rival camp Each of the groups held their mass meetings, while their opponents picketed an heckled from the sidelines. Hitler was hung in effigy at one, but none of these outbreaks was as violent or destructive as past non-ideological disturbances.