To the Editors of The Crimson:

I have just received from a friend at Harvard a copy of an editorial entitled "Tears for Some Clowns," written by a Michael K. Savit. It appears to have been clipped from the Harvard paper appearing in a column called "Savoir-Faire."

Being from Dartmouth, it should not surprise any Johns that I experienced a mild amount of ire when I read that "piece." However, that ire was quickly transformed into quandry as I started to question what kind of person (I will avoid the Hanover diminutive "tool") would write such trash. Is he (and I use the term loosely) jealous of Dartmouth's trees? the unpolluted Connecticut River? a rousing spirit so painfully strived for in bustling, "civilized," polluted Cambridge? or did he just have a lousy time up at Dartmouth and felt vindictive? It could be that he had a beer spilled on him, was refused entrance into one of seven bands on campus or, just maybe, he is that poor "sluggo" referred to in the article entitled "Harvard Havoc Reigns in Hanover" (by Messrs. Calabrese and Yeager) who was caught "discussing ICBMs and Mutually Assured Destruction with a Skidmore freshman."

Regardless of the reason for his ragged literary display, this Savit character, who I can't help but pray is as typical of the average Harvard undergrad as is "Gorilla Monsoon" of the typical Dartmouth student, was very blatant and irresponsible in his editorial accusations: 1) Harvard must be beaten by Dartmouth so that these New Hampshire "preppies" can "justify spending the rest of their lives in a cow pasture"; "Dartmouth fans, obnoxious at best and crybabyish the rest of the time. . ."; "Harvard's victory was so terribly depressing for the Dartmouths. . ."; "you have to wonder how they can stand being cooped up in Hangover all the time."

A chronological response: 1) A "cow pasture"? Mike, my friend, did you really see any cows? Really? No, I'm not talking about the cattle on the football field. Mike, buddy, do you know what a cow looks like? No, I don't care about seeing a picture of a chewed-out pancreas of the Bos taurus on page 11,547 of your Mega-weenie B&D Super-tool Pre-med cadaver-scented Dissection Manual written by (surprise) the professor of your Worm Endicrinology seminar. Do you recall that this game was billed as possibly determining the League Championship? Enough said... 2) Tell me, my dear Mr. Savit, how many "cry-baby" sore-losers have you seen throw a bash like that which almost loosed all of Hanover and sent her plummeting down the hill to the Connecticut? There was heavy-duty partying from 9 in the morning before the game until 3 in the morning after the game. You, yourself, repudiate the possibility of the Green soccer victory as a cause for the brouhah. Do you suggest that it was just that we, in our trademarked slovenly drunkards manner, were drowning our sorrows in beer?... Obnoxious? I leave it to the normal Harvardite to respond to that one for me. 3) Return to no. 2. 4) "Hangover"! You must have read that on a bumper sticker somewhere. I really wonder, Mike, what you were looking at when you came up here. Are you so blind that you could not see the autumn colors for miles around that, by the way, draw thousands of tourists yearly to New England, and even Hanover, yearly. As for being cooped up, I invite you to escape the school hassle and feel "imprisoned in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

I wish to respond separately and succinctly to the following quote: The Green Degenerates "simply fail to realize that while triumphs over the Crimson might cause hysteria in Hanover, losses to the Big Green hardly cause a ripple around Tommy's Lunch." A good friend from Harvard, after the game, said that he had never seen the Crimson team jump around so much after a game. Mike, you might also consult Coach Restic concerning your blind assumption.

If I were to have journalistically evaluated my road trip down to last year's Dartmouth-Harvard game, I might have been able to expound on what a "weak-tit" atmosphere I found. But I would have been mistaken. Harvard weekend last year, despite the loss of the football and soccer teams and the torrential precipitation, was one of the landmarks of my freshman year. So what if Harvard people interrupted their studying (tooling) on Friday night just long enough to throw water balloons on visiting Dartmouth students four stories below. Or, how about the John who challenged some "Animals" to a beer drinking contest and then said, "wait and I'll go get a six pack."? Cambridge and Harvard were great and different from Hanover and Dartmouth; but not worse, nor a filthy hole, no inhabited by a bunch of tea-totalling weenies, Mr. Michael K. Savit.

If I were to have read an article in The Dartmouth after that weekend suggesting things as deprecatory and juvenile as those proposed by Savit, I would have been ashamed. I cannot help but think that the majority of Harvard students agree that Savit is naught but an ugly stain on a healthy Crimson rug. Speaking, I am sure, for all of the Dartmouth community, I look forward to seeing all of Harvard in Hanover for the next Harvard at Dartmouth football game.

Mike, you're invited too: and win or lose, we're gonna pahdy hahdy (but be prepared to lose). Always remember: "We are a small school, but there are those of us who love it." (Daniel Webster) Joshua A. Muskin