One night in 1947, a delegation from the Harvard Boots and Wings Club, an exclusive organization open only to veteran parachutists, was wending its way back to the Houses from Cronin's. Pausing in front of the Kirkland Master's residence, and apropos of nothing, the men began to render "Noel" with great spirit. Mason Hammond, the Master of Kirkland, came to his bedroom window and made it clear that the serenade was not welcome. Since that time, few months have passed without the evening concert being repeated, with a three-year turnover in the choir but always the same refrain.

Hammond has come to accept these outbursts of song as inevitable, but he doesn't pretend to like them any better now than he did six years ago. In fact, Hammond seldom pretends about anything; he is straight-forward and direct, occasionally, as one Kirkland tutor suggests, to the point of near-indiscretion. But this frankness has won Hammond the respect of House members--you always know, they say, where you stand with The Mace.

Longtime friends of Hammond are quick to point out that, despite his directness and lack of pretense, he is a highly sophisticated man. A graduate of St. Mark's and Harvard '25, Hammond studied at Oxford for a year as a Rhodes Scholar. Except for three years of Air Force service in the '40's, Hammond has been at Harvard as professor of Greek and Latin. Then last year, he took a leave to travel to Italy at the invitation of the Academy of Rome.

The Oxford plan of small units within the University appealed to Hammond and formed his idea as to what the Harvard House plan should be. At Oxford, Hammond recalls, he was invited to take part in all athletics, and though he had no previous experience, he found himself part of a crew, rowing everyday and enjoying it. His four years at Harvard had been different. "I never felt that it made any difference to Harvard if I was here or not."

Other than winning the Straus Trophy, there is little tradition at Kirkland: a parade of chefs preceeds the Christmas dinner, and in the annual House plan, Hammond is obliged to take a low comedy part. "It is a poor custom which I've inherited," he grumbles goodnaturedly. Hammond does not regret the lack of formalities at Kirkland, however, for he thinks, "there is a certain tradition in not having a tradition."

One popular break in House routine is the Thursday dinners to which Hammond and his wife, careful that each House member is sometime invited, ask several students. Hammond met his wife in 1935 "very properly in Louisburg Square as befits a Bostonian," though she was a native of New Orleans. "Any warmth in the House," Hammond says, a little proudly, "comes from my wife." But, while House members attest to Mrs. Hammond's engaging personality, they usually add that Hammond under-rates his own influence. With his hearty voice and his sincere manner, The Mace has brought a warmth to Kirkland and a determination to be of real help to the students. This determination, while sturdy, has its lighter side. His College roommate remembers that Hammond always did crossword puzzles with the vertical definitions covered. He resolved to work to work out puzzles horizontally and after extra time, thought, and erasures, he would at last complete them. "That," reminisces his roommate, "is Mason's determination."