In the social world this stately graduate school influence has bred an anti-collegian air which has become characteristic of Harvard. The fate of the All-College Weekend is perhaps the best illustration. The tradition of social independence which inclined the undergraduate to small cocktail parties rather than beer-blasts forced this experiment in "mass, collectivist entertainment" to close its doors after losing over $500. The College just seemed to have no interest in this sort of amusement after the initial weekend two years ago. It just seemed to crumble from inertia.
It's fall was symptomatic of a general dislike within the College for mass affairs for which notices are tacked on bulletin boards or printed in the Crimson and everyone is invited to the Straw Hat Ball with promises of "georgeous women, suave men, and soft, sensuous music."
Even the Pogo Riot of two springs ago does not exemplify the peculiar sort of school spirit which the beanie circuit so loves to rant over. Here was a case of a spontaneously begun riot which worked itself into a frenzy in a short time and died just as quickly. But there was no organization behind it, no crying editorials which said to get out and scream for the old school.
Lenient Rules
This is characteristic of a restraint in the College which is at once a part of the Harvard tradition and the settling effect of the graduate schools. The integration of the two has given the undergraduate a pride in his tolerance of partisan demonstrations, but his dislike for joining up to toot the proverbial horn. He prefers the wait and see attitude.
More likely than not this passive attitude stems from the sober University Hall as much as from any Harvard tradition of individuality. For within these gay walls the Rules and Regulations of Harvard College are made with great latitude.
Though the undergraduate has crossed officialdom frequently over parietal rules, he has held as a cherished possession his right to a car, to drink as he sees fit, and except for freshman PT credits, to exercise when and how he likes. And on such occasions when the parietal rules cramp his style, Boston awaits his dollar with open arms.
University Hall says only that bills must be paid and study cards filed on time, but no one has to go to Church and from orientation week to commencement no undergraduate has to attend more than one or two meetings larger than 500. So long as he passes his exams and complies with course requirements he is not compelled to attend lectures and, for that matter, to do the reading.
His is a free choice in a gigantic plant rising from the basement of Widener's stacks to the star fixed on the eye-piece of an observatory telescope. Whether or not he uses these facilities is up to him, but the very fact that they exist pose problems of selection which an undergraduate in an ordinary four-year college never faces. With such opportunities the Harvard undergraduate finds interests which he never suspected existed and which in large measure help to develop him as a scholar and as an individual.
This diffusion of talent and interests also characterizes the university's immersion in community life on a local and national scale. As a famous community of scholars, the university creates a reputation for the college so that in the minds of its students the two become synonymous terms.
Goldfish Bowl
Many come here under the impression that they are going to a college and emerge to find they have lived four years in a university whose national reputation has made the student feel he is swimming in a goldfish bowl through which he is always being observed. This creates a "high seriousness" like that at no other American university.
Away from the public's eye the college's social life is closely tied with that of Boston, so closely in fact that undergraduates find that the big city's night clubs, theatres, and restaurants are only a subway token away when the college entertainment isn't up to snuff. The effect of this metropolitan competition is to improve the quality of the college productions and give them an air of professionalism which a small college show in a small community never achieves.
Exactly how the "Back to the College Movement" under President Pusey will effect this college-university system is uncertain. Much has already been done through General Education to cut down specialization which the graduate schools brought to the Yard. And the strengthened tutorial program has tightened faculty-undergraduate relations.
The house system has brought together a cross-section of undergraduates into a social and academic unit, and the commuter is no longer a neglected figure.
But it is highly doubtful that any new trend toward a more closely integrated undergraduate life can upset the traditional immersion of the college in the university and through the university in the nation and world at large.
The university lifts the college student out of his collegian environment and thrusts him into an educated community. It is a Harvard phenomena that no man is known as "The Big Man on Campus" because there is no central Harvard campus. But it is characteristic of Harvard that the main building of the college is also the main building of the university