The Class of 1940 entered Harvard in as carefree a mood as the times --the fall of 1936--permitted. True, there were problems in the big world outside: in the United States, depression and social unrest lingered, while in Europe, fascists had taken power in Germany and Italy and had launched a bloody war in Spain. But on the other hand, the freshmen were young, the prestige of their College had never been higher, and promised the Literary Digest, Alfred M. Landon was on his way to the White House. Things could have been worse.

During the four years that followed, things did get worse. The Class of 1940 grew more and more serious, more and more concerned. By the time the members of the Class had won their degrees, each of them had had to face the possibility

When the Class of 1940 arrived in of fighting in another World War. Cambridge, things were still in something of a happy shambles: the University had just celebrated its three hundredth anniversary. The celebration had drawn alumni and representatives of other colleges and universities from all over the nation for a program of dinners, receptions, forums and speeches, climaxing in huge gatherings held in the Tercentenary Theatre, the quadrangle of Yard bounded by Widener Library, University Hall, Memorial Church and Sever Hall. The money raised at the Tercentenary was used to establish the ambitious program of Harvard National Scholarships.

The new freshmen cheered for a football team that lost to Yale and Princeton, among others. They supported the CRIMSON's crusade for the formation of an Ivy League to preserve amateurism in College football. Most of them favored the Presidential aspirations of the Governor of Kansas; others helped raise money to buy an ambulance for the Spanish Loyalists.

Politics captured the attention of some of the freshmen, but most were given to more lighthearted pursuits. In the Spring of 1937, for instance, 1500 students attended a hoax lecture on birth control. The biggest lark of the season, though, was the riot. It started innocently enough one May evening with a water fight on Plympton St. A crowd gathered, and by midnight some 2500 students had packed the Square. The rioters strained the patience of the Cambridge police by disconnecting the power lines of three trolleys, thus rendering them unfit to carry passengers. Finally the police used tear gas, a tactic they were not to repeat for 25 years. The Square emptied, but 1500 diehards made their way to Radcliffe, where they spent the remainder of the night yelling, cavorting, and milling around.

As sophomores, the members of the Class of 1940 began to take a greater interest in the world outside Harvard. Reflecting this heightened interest, the CRIMSON began to print reports from the United Press on its front page every morning. The big issue in 1937-1938 and in the following two years was America's role in the world conflict that seemed more and more inevitable. A debate be between isolationist Republican Rep. Hamilton Fish '10 and Farmer-Labor Rep. John T. Bernard, who favored collective security, drew a large crowd. Malcolm R. Wilkey '40, just returned from a trip to the Far East, warned in a CRIMSON article that Japan's quarrel with China was far more serious than generally believed.

Then as now, most student political activists were on the left, but the right was by no means inactive. Conservatives Merwin K. Hart Jr. '40 and Sidney Q Curtiss Jr. '40 charged that the money collected for Spanish relief the year before had actually been used for a "communistic demonstration" in Harlem. Their charge provoked how is of protest, and Student Council president Francis Keppel '38 promised to investigate.

Despite injuries, the football team performed admirably. Torbert McDonald became the first member of the Class of 1940 to make the first string. Harvard beat Princeton, 34-6, and then dealt Yale its first defeat of the season. The victory over Princeton was the first since 1923 and the first major-game win for Harvard under Coach Dick Harlow.

In the fall of 1938, when the Class returned for its junior year, Cambridge was a shambles. A hurricane had cost the University $100,000 in damage and had flattened nine elms outside Eliot House on Memorial Drive. The football team was less of a disaster: It took Big Three honors by beating Princeton, 26-7, and Yale, 7-0.

During 1940's senior year, Harvard was almost the Berkeley of its time. President Conant's tenure policy was debated and discussed by nearly everyone A "free speech" controversy flared then the Corporation refused to give the John Reed Club a room for a speech by Communist party leader Earl Browder. And anti-war groups abounded. On one April day, the Harvard Student Union held a peace rally addressed by CIO leader Mike Quill, the Harvard Anti-War Committee blasted the Union as Communist-dominated and held its own peace rally with Norman Thomas, and the American Independence League attacked both sides for their 'partisanship."

Non-interventionist sentiment was widespread at Harvard. One poll found 95 per cent of students against immediate U.S. entry into the war, and 78 per cent against intervention even in the event of the defeat of England and France.

Agitation against the University as a "nest of Reds" was at a high point. The City Council adopted Councillor Mike Sullivan's proposal to ban, the use of the words "Lenin" and "Leningrad" anywhere in Cambridge; a day later, Sullivan cheerfully admitted that the measure was unconstitutional.

The football team's 9-6 loss to Princeton was regarded as a moral victory, but its 20-7 loss to Yale was a surprise, "We just didn't click," sighed Captain Torbert Macdonald.

Macdonald, now a Congressman, was a class hero, but his roommate brought the Class of 1940 its deepest distinction. John F. Kennedy stayed out of politics as an undergraduate, but his honors then in--later expanded into the book Why England Slept--was highly political. Kennedy graduated cumlaude, at the time a feat accomplished by only 20 per cent of the Class