Likening non-residency to the inexpensive foreign cars, Leighton points out that, during the 1957 "auto recession," sales of such models tripled. "The College has been advertising only its most expensive model," he points out, and this spring for the first time, application forms for upperclass rooms carried this listing: "Cooperatives--$110" per term. In addition, all members of Dudley were asked to fill out a special section.

For 1959-60, Dudley is offering a total of 77 residental places 29 in the present Cooperative House, 16 in a new house on Massachusetts Avenue on the upper floors of Apley Court, and 23 in J and K entries of Wigglesworth. As Leighton expect- ed, response this year has not been enthusiastic.

Even of Dudley House does succeed in attracting a hard core of "resident commuters," however, its problems as a commuter center are far from solved. In an article in the Dudley Reporter (the House's dittographed newspaper), a student claims that, for 80 per cent of commuters, "Dudley is no more than an occasional snack bar, and a ping-pong and dance hall for most of the others." He continues: "The same names appear with monotonous regularity in the House Committee, Dance Committee, sports events, at dances, and on the Reporter's masthead. The number of Dudley men who, by being active in the affairs of the Housee would derive real benefit from a new center, is proably less than ten per cent of the whole."

In an effort to determine the attitudes of commuters toward their center--and themselves, a one page poll was sent to over 3500 non-residents. To date, about a third have been returned. While no precise statistics can be derived from such a sampling, most of the questionnaire was concerned not with numbers, but with reactions and suggestions. For these questions, the commuters were faced simply with a blank line.

About a third get to the Square by bike or on foot, and their average time for a one-way trip is 15 minutes. Another third who drive or get rides with friends take about a half hour, and the others come by public transportation, averaging 45 minutes per trip. The average non-resident spends a working day of 8.5 hours somewhere at Harvard, and the 70 per cent who use Lamont spend three hours a day in the sterilized stacks.

Though roughly half of all commuters never set foot in Dudley, the others eat lunch there, on the average of three or four times a week. About a quarter of these bring sack lunches; the others buy from a cafeteria selection that includes excellent ham-and cheeseburgers. Half did not list any extracurricular activity except "work," but the rest claim to spend around seven hours a week on a wide variety of clubs and sports.

One student, disturbed that he was not asked directly to list the advantages of commuting, took the questionnaire's suggestion to jot down comments on the back:

"The most important reason for being a commuter is financial. . . . Secondly, if I were living in a House, probably most of my friendships would be with other House members. In contrast and far more preferable is my situation in which I have friends in almost all the Houses, in several of the graduate schools, and among people who have graduated and have jobs in the Boston area.

"A third reason is privacy. When I want to be alone, I can; when I want to see other people, I can always drop in on friends. Fourth, I suffer from no parietal rules to restrict my making friends. . . . Last, and for once, least, I can wear a T-shirt to dinner if I want. I don't have to eat three meals a day in a Kiwanis Club atmosphere."

Most students, however, emphasized, and listed among them: "time wasted traveling," "out of touch with classmates," "trouble finding parking places," "lack of close association with students of different backgrounds," "daily contact with family often cumbersome," "sense of isolation," "lack of intellectual atmosphere," "feeling as though I were still attending high school," "nearly zero contact with the faculty," and "inability to make full use of Lamont."

Asked to react to "second-class citizen" as a "stock phrase," the majority considered it--and rejected it--as a description of the commuter, the most typical comment being "nonsense" followed by one of more exclamation points. Others, however, saw a "grain of truth." "Many commuters suffer from an inferiority complex . . . and show it," wrote one, and another snapped out: "I gather that as a member of Dudley I belong to an underprivileged group of some sort." A third non-resident observed that "I haven't come up against scorn; what I do resent is the automatic pity I get for being a commuter."

Questionable Morale

Commenting on the phrase, "commuter espirit de corps," students ranged from humor to bitterness. "Will be formed when Napoleon is appointed Master," wrote one wag. "You meet happy people on the MTA," another improvised. "Ridiculous and hollow," "frightening artificiality," and "a rationalization for dissatisfied commuters"--these were other reactions, together with "Pleasant in many ways, but causes a provincial, cliquish atmosphere," and "Definitely true--too much, perhaps makes us clannish." This sentiment was echoed in other parts of the poll.

Tutor-student contact in Dudley was called "almost non-existent, otherwise amicable," and "no worse than the other Houses." But other commuters have gotten to know the tutors, and their reaction was "improving," "gaining," even "excellent." Most, however, found the same barrier that exists in many of the residential Houses: "Staff sits together at lunch, and it is difficult to approach them without a sense of intrusion."

The commuters' athletic program drew a mixed response--"good spirit and interest, although lack of time to participate puts Dudley at the bottom of the Straus competition." Though one student claimed that it was "well-run, despite natural difficulties," another said the program was "terrible because of student apathy and commuter inconveniences." All college students complain of the lack of time, but commuters, who average a half hour on the road per day, have reason to complain a little louder.