From the swing set placed in Quincy courtyard by Elaine Dunn for the House's young population to the Scottish kilt worn by Charles Dunn on formal occasions, the personal preoccupations of Quincy's Masters have stamped Quincy House. However, the trademark of the Dunn's mastership continues to be "low-key."

South House

Rulan and Theodore Pian

At a time when many faculty members are turning down masterships because the position lacks its former prestige or is too time-consuming, recently appointed masters often have unique reasons for accepting the post. For Rulan C. Pian '44, master of South House, that reason was nostalgia. As an undergraduate at Radcliffe she lived on Walker St. near the Quad and she was envious of the women who lived on campus, in one of the six dorms that now make up South House. She is making up for that now, she said recently. Ironically, she will move into a new master's residence on Walker St. later this fall.

In the more than 30 years since her graduation from Radcliffe, Pian, who last year received both a joint-tenured appointment in the Music and East Asian Languages and Civilizations Departments and the House mastership, has never left Harvard for more than one year at a time. Born in Cambridge in 1922, Pian was raised and educated in China from 1925-1938. She returned to Cambridge, graduated from Radcliffe, received both a Master's degree and a Ph.D from Radcliffe College, and has been here ever since.

Pian received much attention last spring when she asked the now-famous "South House Six" to leave the House because of alleged "disorderly conduct." Pain said recently the incident, which she described as "quite a shock to myself, too," grew out of numerous letters she received, mostly anonymous, from intimidated students who feared the "six." She added that after the incident she was approached by both tutors and students in a show of support for what she had done.

That incident was one of many that point to the benefit of a co-mastership, Pian believes. She shares the role with her husband, Theodore, a professor at MIT, and she has found his assurance and different point of view to be essential. Because the two live in their own home in Cambridge (there has not been a master's residence at South House) contact with students is not as natural as other Houses. Yet the Pians have often invited students to their home for dinner, and have held teas and dorm dinners in an effort to fill what they see as the role of master--to let the students know that somebody cares.

While studying in the United States, the Pians made plans to return to China, and if possible to live or work with students there. They stayed here instead, but not without some reminders of their homeland. Sweet olive plants--a species rarely seen outside China and Hawaii, and Chinese calligraphy abound in and around their home. And in their desire to share their background and love of Chinese food with students in their House, the Pians held catered Chinese feasts last year in each of the South House halls. Students are sprawled out on the floor. There's only one rule: chopsticks must be used.

But gestures of friendship aside, South House is facing an identity crisis of sorts, struggling to determine how to increase its appeal with limited resources. Pian believes students don't appreciate the physical advantages of the House. Not being so close to the Square makes things peaceful, she says. And the physical structure allows small units to form and still remain part of a whole. "Students are too quick to notice the advantages of the River Houses--there are many things peculiar to South House that are not being made full use of, such as the little rooms in the attic and basements that could be fixed up and used." But despite this rosy picture of the architecture--Pian also envisions the Quad as a sort of private garden, if freed from the traffic that now pours through it--there is a security problem. With six separate entrances to the buildings, the best precaution would be a manned bell-desk at each entrance, she says. But there are no funds and therefore no bell desks.

Pian's specialty is Chinese music--she has written articles on such subjects as "The Function of Rhythm in the Peking Opera," and "Rewriting an act of the Yuan Drama"--and she says her main concern with her mastership is that it detracts from her working time. Nevertheless, she thinks it would be ideal if every faculty member had some experience around students, "in order to get to know them as human beings."

The Pians, who have one daughter, often travel to the Far East. They returned to the People's Republic for a month in 1975, where they visited more than 60 relatives who remain there. But while Pian says she would love to return to her homeland over and over, for now her loyalties are with South House, where she lives now as a dream fulfilled.

Winthrop House

William and Virginia Hutchison

In 1975, William R. Hutchison, Warren Professor of Religion in America and master of Winthrop House, made headlines by writing a letter he sent to newly appointed resident tutors informing them that the University forbade tutors cohabitating.

The day after the story appeared, Hutchison wrote a letter to The Crimson clarifying his personal views. He wrote, "I think students, to say nothing of tutors, should be much freer to run their own lives and establishments than they can be in the houses as presently constituted."