Opening nights of CRIMSON competitions are rather like Mad Hatter tea parties, except, of course, that yards and yards of AP ticker substitute for tea and goodies. Actually, that's a bad metaphor, because it doesn't really describe the comforting and comfortable kind of beery chaos which reigns in the newsroom.

Mice

For one thing, 14 Plympton St. has mice. Mice are not at all like rats, nor are they a sign of decay or poverty. CRIMSON mice happen to be the most elegant of their kind in the western hemisphere. Newspaper mice are an especially varied lot, and include editorial mice, reporting mice, photographic mice, and, of course, business mice. The CRIMSON'S Sanctum is an ideal place for mice.

Besides its mice, the CRIMSON has a certain number of human beings on it. This can't be helped. No paper can do without them. These fall into roughly the same kinds of categories as the mice.

Editorial people, as you would guess from the name, do editorials. Also they write other things; in fact, a list of all the different kinds of things these people write would fill the remaining space in this story. Reporting people report. Reporting is difficult and arduous, but not so difficult or arduous as you would be led to expect. Once you get the hang of it, you're elected to the CRIMSON.

Mice Have Trouble

Photographing people take photographs (why these categories need explaining is a puzzle and really quite mad if you think about it). News photography is something mice have trouble with, so our photography people are doubly valuable.

Business people sell, create, and manage the CRIMSON's extensive worldly goods. Business, after all, is business. What more is there to say?

All these kinds of people and mice co-exist in the CRIMSON. Add the candidates who came last night, plus the candidates who will come tonight, include free beer, and you will have another example of the comforting and comfortable kind of chaos which marks the beginning of any crime-comp.