Edward Francis Chamberlain, the Assistant Superintendent at Lowell House, whose taste runs to rep ties and white bucks, is a man of two temperaments. To the crowd of Lowell men who gather at almost any hour in the superintendent's office to hear Eddie, he is an inexhaustible, rapid fire narrator of undergraduate wickedness, and a belligerent upholder of the Boston Post. But when the modern Boston whirl has been pushed aside, as it often is during his long afternoon talks with Professor Kellcher, Harvard's Irish expert, Eddie is in lower gear; his speech is deliberate, his gestures wider and slower. He is talking then of his beloved Ireland. "Last summer, Frank O'Connor (Eddie's good friend), Kelleher, and myself read some Irish poetry in one of the House rooms. It was murderously hot. We drank beer, and Frank read. I tell you, it must have been the heat . . . but that poetry, the tears ran down my face."

Eddie's life has been a curious mingling, yet tug of war, between Boston and Ireland. He came from County Clare to Boston Latin School at the age of 15. After gradation he worked for the Post as a night office boy. "The Post had a wonderful free and easy setup," he recalls. "Any kid off the streets could get space for a colorful story." During the day he went to Suffolk Law School. In three years he had worked up to a reporter's job, and then, "when I heard they had made me a reporter I quit law. Who the hell would want to be a lousy lawyer then?" In the three years before the war, Eddie deserted journalism twice to return to County Clare, the second time to marry. "Everyone knows the most beautiful women come from Ireland. And even MacCauley admitted that the most beautiful Irish women come from Clare. I went back to marry the most beautiful woman in Clarel" Doing defense work in Boston during the war, and odd jobs after, Eddie came to Lowell House in 1947.

Certainly no House man regrets his coming. Eddie says he can tell how long a man has been in the House by whether he's called "Mr. Chamberlain," "Hey Eddie," or something more familiar, if less exact. His popularity bobs up in the form of long bull sessions with the House men, coupled with Eddie's own brand of fatherly advice to their dates when they sign in. "If you need any help," Eddie informed one lady, "just whistle 32 times." "It takes 20 minutes to sign my girl in when Eddie's there," said a helpless escort.

Underscoring this ribald warmth is Eddie's serious interest in Lowell, and in his own education. Kelleher has called him a "mine of information on the Irish in America and a self educated man whose intelligence has made him shun the worst Irish day-of-the-morning elements." He sprinkles his speech with quotes of everything from Hamlet to Abou Ben Adhem, while his command of five languages (his German is "not very good--just a reading knowledge") have made him a "discovery" for each new class of Lowell men. Snatching time from his work and his reading, Eddie has become President of the Clare Men, one of Boston's many Irish county clubs that help newcomers get started. Any man from Clare, new arrived in Boston usually calls on him first for help.

But his quieter moments have been few, around the House. So far, Eddie has proved more than equal to the many minor emergencies that beset Lowell. One not so minor crisis occurred when the Archbishop of Canterbury arrived on a visit and the usual House reception machinery broke down, leaving no one to receive him. Eddie stepped in and did the honors. After a successful visit he and the Archbishop were walking across the quad together. "And what branch of the University are you connected with?" queried the Archbishop. The question was not new to Eddie. "Maintenance," he replied, and let it go at that.