Newspaper headlines screamed about scandals, prohibition, and the Ku Klux Klan as hordes of eager freshmen invaded Cambridge during the windy September days of 1923. Tradition-ridden Harvard lived a life of its own, however--a life that could be just as exciting as that in the world outside the Square. Still, current events were able to filter into and disturb the University scene; sometimes they momentarily banished sex and football as bull session topics.

The KKK was creating have in the state that was then the U.S.'s "enfant terrible"--Oklahoma. Governor Walton, backed by President Coolidge, had proclaimed martial law and forbidden the state legislature to meet while he was trying to curb the Klan's activities. Later the Corfu incident, the World Court, Philippines independence, and French separation of the Rhineland were to give the freshmen plenty to think about.

Records began to fall immediately, With a 930 man registration, and ten more added later, the class broke all Harvard enrollment records including the previous high set by the Class of 1921 with 856 men. Some ascribed this increase to the new ruling allowing the top seventh of each preparatory graduating class to enter without examinations.

Probably the freshmen failed to appreciate that an improved registration system had been inaugurated in their honor. The now-common well-filled manila envelope first made its appearance; no longer would students have to go from one corner of Memorial Hall to another to get the necessary forms. Also there was a choice of three days in which to register. But the CRIMSON noting the innovation, philosophized. "After all, even with its modern methods, the University is much the same."

President Lowell officially welcomed the new students at a reception in the Union. There they heard Dean Briggs explain the new, and stiffer, scholastic ruling--three C's and a D for a minimum of four courses instead of two C's and a D for a minimum of five. Groaning they heard that a series of lectures would be added to English A.

Many changes had but little effect on the new class. They were indifferent to the news that Professor Copeland was on vacation so English 12 and the "evenings" at Hollis 15 would suffer a half-term lapse. That there was a record football turnout and that Edward A. Stevans was the new crew coach made little dent on most of them.

No Cuts

The first Monday of the term 138 freshman football hopefuls reported to Coach Campbell. Later they were to find his "no cuts policy" somewhat disillusioning, for Campbell admitted. "If the freshman squad becomes smaller, as it undoubtedly must. it will not be because men have been cut, but because they have been transferred to other squads."--i.e. dormitory teams.

To help the bewildered members of '27, the sophomores and juniors formed a Freshman Information Service. Those feeling a need for spiritual guidance attended Dean Sperry's half-hour Monday night talks for freshmen in Smith Hall. Over 300 felt the urge the first week, but enthusiasts dwindled thereafter. The class' physical health was not neglected--all had to sit through one lecture a week in "Freshman Hygiene." Also those not in some organized sport had to exercise at least three hours a week. The class soon had a record fall sport enrollment.

The more energetic went out for some activity--the Glee Club, orchestra, Band and instrumental clubs held tryouts. And the ROTC unit and Field Artillery Club held a "get acquainted session."

And to help the freshmen on the clean and narrow track, Lampy inaugurated a new 'clean humor policy' with its freshman issue. "To say that the Lampoon is about to reform is not quite the story," President F. H. Nichols '24 said, "for I think that the Lampoon has always been the cleanest of college comics. There have been. however, occasional lapses."

Prohibition and Yale keynoted much early fall dining room conversation. President Angell had greeted their Eli compatriots with the dictum that either they observe prohibition or face dismissal. "The University will not permit dissipation. No man can come to any great success at Yale who is known to be a dissipated man." Yale sophomores were required to sign a pledge swearing they would never take part in a riot. Harvard yearlings began to be doubly glad they hadn't strayed New Haven-way.

In these first few months when the newcomer was trying to melt into the college landscape, the CRIMSON'S weekly fashion column was solving his sartorial problems. "If you are interested in any question of dress or etiquette," the column stated, "write the 'Well Dressed Man' care of the Harvard CRIMSON and your letter will receive prompt and careful attention."

Course-choosing is always a problem and while some did their best to get all classes at 11 a.m. or later and not above the first floor of Sever, others jammed Biology 1 where 200 disappointed would-be frog dissectors were turned away. With only three main freshman, dormitories over 500 freshmen had to board in private houses; however most ate in one of the three Halls and attended the October smokers there.

It wasn't long before the freshmen learned the Rhinehart tradition; Smith Hall rose in rebellion against having boiled eggs alternated with boiled eggs at every breakfast and 75 signed fruitless petitions--no relief was forthcoming.