Selling 'C's' by the Hundred
Exams were over, and the local tutoring schools were counting up their receipts after the long ordeal. The manager of one, the College Tutoring Bureau, estimated that he had sold 1100 notes since the start of Christmas vacation. The CRIMSON wrote that "when asked if he had been able to estimate the results of his labors, the manager claimed that he had been responsible for probably two or three hundred C's. 'For,' he explained, 'one student buys, notes but four read them.'"
A major administration turnover occurred in mid-April, when Dean Chester N. Greenough '98 retired to devote all his time to teaching English. Alfred C. Hanford, professor of Government, replaced him as Dean of the College. Greenough remarked that "it will be, of course, a great relief to shift the burden and serve Harvard in the line instead of on the staff."
The undergraduate was reminded of the football season, even in the spring, when Harvard and Yale agreed to abolish scouting for one year on an experimental basis. The Athletic Directors made the move in the hope of preserving amicable relations with the New Haven University, focusing perhaps an uneasy eye on the situation that had culminated in the Princeton trouble.
But even reminders of Princeton couldn't subtract from the effect of the varsity baseball team's first victory over the perennially powerful Holy Cross nine since 1920, 9 to 2. J. N. Barbee '28 held the Crusaders to only six hits. Almost a month later, on June 5, the varsity licked Holy Cross again, but this time the victory came harder--4 to 3, in fourteen innings.
A new September came, bringing the Class of 1930 into its sophomore year, and two sophomore backs, Wallace R. Harper and Guy Holbrook led the varsity to a 14-6 victory over Holy Cross. But Dartmouth had improved since the previous year, and the improvement was enough to rout the varsity, 30 to 6. Once again Harper's solid line-bucking stood out.
Yale was also a powerhouse that fall, so much so that many observers considered it "the greatest Eli gridiron machine since the war." The varsity's 14-0 loss was thus sustained without the loss of Crimson honor, and despite the hard running of Harper and fullback Josiah W. Potter, another sophomore.
It was a momentous fall if only because the College was lively with plans for the first Reading Period, in accordance with a system announced the year before. Each Department revealed its own plans: some eliminated all lectures entirely during the fortnight before exams and others retained only those in the elementary courses. The whole thing was so new in approach to studies that there was no way of telling whether Widener would be jammed beyond all capacity, whether anybody would be able to obtain the books desired, or even whether anybody would bother to return after Christmas vacation.
The University Librarian announced that every effort was being made to obtain duplicate copies of books assigned for the Reading Period, and expressed the hope that most undergraduates would see fit to study in their rooms and to choose books that weren't in great demand. But he could only hope; there was no telling what 3,500 students were going to do.
The Hive Above the Steps
After the system had been in operation for almost a week, the CRIMSON noted that "the halls of learning have not been deserted in wholesale fashion. Whatever else had happened, reading is being done. Whether that reading is accomplishing any permanent results is a question for the future. But anyone who doubts the ability of the undergraduate to rise voluntarily before ten o'clock and to sit with a book in his hands for several hours . . . had best climb the multitudinous steps of Widener Library and gaze upon the hive."
When Reading Period came to a close, the CRIMSON took another look and found results that seemed to be most encouraging; perhaps the undergraduate was civilized after all. It found that "one thing is certain--the organization of the College has been proved capable of functioning without that bond which American educators have heretofore considered essential--required attendance at classes."
Perhaps the Reading Period layoff from lectures gave the student lots of free time or perhaps he was very interested in intercollegiate debating in those days. At any rate 3,000 attended a debate with nearby Boston College on the subject, "Resolved. That Al Smith is eminently qualified for the presidency." Politics and alcohol used to mix, for the debate was full of references to the prohibition question.
A bombshell arrived in mid-January when the great Copey--Charles Townsend Copeland '32--unexpectedly announced his plans to retire at the end of the academic year on the advice of his doctor. Luckly for the undergraduate, be planned to keep his famous Hollis 15 room and the equally famous discussion hours that passed behind its doors. For more than 30 years, the legendary figure had lectured from Harvard podiums, and it was all but impossible for many to imagine the University without him.
Conrad Aiken '11 humbly remarked that "the experience of being taught by him is one of the most starting and vivifying and alarming and altogether unforgettable adventures that can possibly befall one."
Other changes were also in the offing, but these concerned Harvard's athletic plant, the Stadium and the proposed Indoor Athletic Building in particular. Athletic Director Bingham suggested enlarging the Stadium to a seating capacity of 80,000. Wooden stands containing room for 22,000 had been erected annually but were now termed a fire hazard and had to be removed.
Bingham wanted to replace them with a larger concrete addition to accommodate the alumni and the increased size of the undergraduate body. But opinion was sharply divided: many were afraid that a larger Stadium would mean professionalize football, while many thought it was the duty of the College to seat the alumni. The Overseers proposed a compromise-- In January, an unknown alumnus subscribed $100,000 toward an indoor swimming pool, a project that interested Bingham far more than a litte, and the H.A.A. started action that would culminate in the present I.A.B. Harvard knew so little about indoor pools, however, that questionnaires were sent to several colleges inquiring as to how one went about building and running one. The year 1928 was election year, and undergraduate interest in the coming battle ran high. Five hundred student delegates attended a mock Democratic convention in May, with the keynote on a return to Wilsonian ideals and a movement away from government by and for monopolies. Al Smith and former Secretary of War Newton D. Baker were the leading candidates for mock nomination, but a dead lock between the two could not be broken until Thomas J. Walsh, a Montana Senator, was brought forward as a compromise candidate. Regarding every day Cambridge, Clara Bow and Mary Pickford appeared regularly at the University Theatre; Willie Hoppe, Bill Tilden, and George M. Cohan appeared in Lucky Strike advertisements; Langrock, Browning King, and J. August The times were good. By the end of his sophomore year, the member of the Class of 1930 knew a bit about studying, perhaps a bit more about