No doubt for a while, Crime staffers treated their spanking new building more kindly than they do now, and the paper certainly was kind to them in those first few successful years on Plympton. But it was too good to last and hardly expected to with a Democrat, and a Princeton man to boot, in the White House.

"WAR" said the three three-inch letters of the April 5, 1917 head-line, and the honeymoon was over. The publication struggled gamely on for the next 18 months--no one knows how--and then capitulated. Then the student body, much to everybody's surprise, began vigorously to clamor for what it had previously clamored so vehemently against, and the CRIMSON was resurrected as a weekly only 2o days after it had quit.

After Christmas vacation of 1918, the paper was once again on a daily schedule; although set back fast. In 1919 CRIMSON bought the 20-year old Harvard Illustrated Magazine, a pictorial journal, and thenceforth published a bi-weekly photographic supplement.

The following year, the progressive staff bought a new press and enlarged its beloved rag by the addition of a fifth column laterally and five inches vertically.

Play and movie reviews have had a long and stormy history on the CRIMSON, Producers are as often as not sorry when they send complimentary ducats to the Crime, and the day may come when they will play the caustic Cantabrigians a fee not to darken their door or their theater. Although theater advertisements mean money, the courageous critics let fire any time they find the playwrights worshipping Theapis too little or the CRIMSON business editors worshipping Mammon too much.

From the Schuberts (who shut off the Crime's free tickets after its critics had roasted several pre-war turkeys) to the Hasty Pudding show (which ran an ad pointedly referring to the good things "professional" critics had said about the show), theatre groups have protested the Crime's high-minded approach. But the Harvard audience remains as discriminating and hard to please as any anywhere, and it requires like-minded critics.

But if the paper couldn't excell in quality, it could always turn to quantity, as it usually did on Yale game Saturdays. In 1921, the prolific Plympton men spewed forth a 16-page morning edition, a 40-page pictorial supplement, a 4-page post-game extra, and 45,000 song programs, which is a world's record for something or other.

The 1923 staff woke up one morning--if it had gone to bed the night before--to find that the paper was 50 years old. It was a hard-earned maturity, and the Crimeds looked back with pride, as various and sundry thousands climbed on the bandwagon of congratulation.

An article in the New York Evening Post among other things said, "The Harvard CRIMSON--a very fine and high-grade expression of the best student sentiment--has great influence and deserves to have it."

Mother Advocate pondered the past, thinking back to the days when the Crime was an upstart literary magazine rival, and stated, "If the child is father to the man, the two are often strangely dissimilar."

Cordial Relations

Faculty members made frequent contributions to the staid Crime of the 20's; by 1925, the paper-prof relations had finally become unbearably cordial, and The Confidential Guide to Courses was born. In the beginning, the Confy Guide was a part of the regular issue; it was a separate booklet first in 1936, also the year of the first CRIMSON Telephone Directory.

1925 also saw the first Student Vagabond column. Starting originally as merely a guide to local lectures. Vag later switched to a stream of consciousness style, making the feature a sort of "A Portrait of the Crimed as a Young Man."

Linotying was under the capable mishandling of the erratic and esthetic Dick Dyer in the twenties, and credit goes to him for about the worst "pruf hak (proof reading error)" in the paper's 80 years. A solemn theological article appeared one morning bearing the head-line, "Christianity: A Positive Farce."

If anything were a farce to Crimeds, it was President Lowell's House Pian of 1928. For some reason or other, after a previous board had sponsored the plan, the wrong, and they called the $3,000,000 bolt from the Blue alumnus a "misdirection of wealth."