Harvard University - Red Book Yearbook (Cambridge, MA)

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V . 2 LANDMARKS. The UT Uehj is the only movie house in the Square. Locke-Obers frenlerl is Boston's most famous restaurant. Two of the Arcade Spa maintained its pinball machines for those with sporting blood. MacBride's sold out to Howard johnson's which opened in the fall of ,48. Ev held out in the Tennis 8: Squash shop. The UT somehow still managed to obtain its quota of pre-historic double features. And the Gold Coast Valeteria, in one of its periodic squabbles with its clientele, waded victoriously through a Student Council investigation. The really big difference around the Square, however, lay in the prices. Gone were the days when the Georgian had advertised meals for 55c and even 35c, when the Pro peddled Bourbon for 382.49 a fifth and Scotch for only 50c more. No longer would the Coop sell white shirts for 351.85 and grey Hannels for 35.75. Haircuts took a second jump from 75C to a 351.00 injune of '48. Even the College had raised its room rents and board charges almost a third. The Higher Cost of Living was indeed something to be reckoned with in trying to make a GI check or allowance stretch for a month. Even the Bell Telephone Co. raised its price. Max Keezer was the only one who boasted that he hadn't raised his prices. Sin and Sex Downtown Boston had seemingly changed even less than the Square. All the bars and movies from Scollay Square to Broadway were doing very well, and the Old Howard con- tinued to nourish Boston culture. We could still save up our pennies and take an occasional meal at Locke Ober's or Durgin Park or the Ararat, and jake Wirth was still dispensing dark beer and darker bread. The Touraine had undergone a com- plete face-lifting and now boasted an Astor-type bar on the corner. The Copley Merry-go-round was still spinning its expensive rounds, however, and most of the other night spots were pretty much as was. r M . H. ,. 94 - . l - Square's oldest landmarks are Leavitt and Pierce fright, 'and Billings and Stover whose walls are lined with every prescription filled since 1854. Boston's tastes hadn't changed either. Kousseivit- sky's symphony and the summer Esplanade Concerts were always jammed to capacity . . . the movies had lines a block long on most nights, but you could walk up to almost any theatre on Saturday night a few minutes before curtain time and take in a good play. The great Boston newspapers still boasted their sensational front page formats filled with sin and sex, relegating less important news to the back pages, and there were always several juicy trials to follow daily. The Red Sox and Ted Williams were, on alternate days, heroes and traitors. Politics were as corrupt as ever, although for some unknown reason the federal government finally caught up with Curley and managed to pin him behind bars for a while in spite of appeals and heart troubles. Out in Cambridge, something fine had passed out of politics when Plan E came in. However, Councilman Mickey Sullivan was around, until his death in january, 1949, to provide free entertainment with his Universi- ty Red-hunts, Harvard Square campaign speeches, and single- handed feuds with the Corporation. But the bitter town-gown rioting and tension of the early war years had also left the local scene. The Gold Coast and the banks of the Charles were peaceful and quiet on the surface. Editorial Rumblings and a New Regime Television came to Boston just after the '48 Commence- ment and a huge tower marred the Business School-Soldier's Field skyline. jim's Place, along with other Square niteries succumbed and installed sets. By '48 the University was beginning to feel the price squeeze and it was announced that room rents, tuition, and board would all be up for the '48-'49 year. Cambridge flooded l90l

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t ' first hold during the war has THE NEW LOOK. Joint instruction got its ' now become a permanent institution. Provost Suck feels 313-Lliqlgfyaliig has a definite duty to teach women . urtlesslwfi C 0056 Y? 53 . . The population. The University still insists it is not co e ucation Billings and Stover decided to forego the-luacury ofa soda fountain to concentrate on pills and prescriptions . . . the bars and restaurants on Boylston began to play leap ff0g, changing positions on the street with alarming frequency . . . even I-Iamilton's Liquor Store was spot on Mt. Auburn . . . there was the plus new Club 100 which set up shop to cater to the moneyed set and wound up the HLU for refusing to admit two Negro forced off its corner to a being picketed by students . . . jim Cronin had taken the tide.of the war boom at its flood and expanded his little bar into a sprawling garage-like air-conditioned Qso the sign saidj beer parlor on Dunster Street. . . . x' r YS W rain' I Crimion now elects Radcliffe members. As some consolation Radcliffe girls seemed to get better looking while '46 was in College. Rumor has it that the Cliffe is now re uiring entrance pictures. However, a few students like Burt Glinn frigbg still preferred the joys of Boston. For Those With Sporting Blood All in all, however, the tenor of the Square hadn't changed. The banks, and the book stores and the drug stores and the barber shops and the clothing stores wereall present and raising prices. The O.G. f Known from coast to coast Q was still serving beer-the beer was the same but the small talk over it had turned from reminiscences of senior proms and summer vacations to the old outfit and Paris and Tokyo. The Wurst-haus and Cahaly's looked good for at least another 100 years, as did Schrafft's and St. Clair's. Hayes-Bick and the Waldorf still catered to hungry characters, while the Harvard Pro had no trouble keeping up its volume, and Harry's DUATION. O f th ' reaso s fo the d' ' t' ' th Cl f 1946 ' h - 'SFS Cllgdjhgkblben enrolled in Clslfege, iight? as civilliansror as Ilfgnlflizggzfiflaltg lS1avyeV-Ssllxnit. Only it faegvelnfgnyflfgirj Q ' mill still be around when the College begins the 1949-50 academic year in September. Despite the wartime interruptions, the Class of 9 had one of the best scholastic records in Harvard history, with almost a third graduating with honors. Seventy-seven more '46 men ' l din fifteen with honorsj received their degrees in March, 1949, too late to be included in the chart below. The red portions one u g of the blocks in the chart on the right indicate the percentage graduating with honors. TOTAL NUMBER IN CLASS OF IQ'-i6 AS OF MARCH, lciqqi I'-I'-I4 TOTAL NUMBER OF Q14 ennouaves sv JUNE,l'i'i8 Q1 -,vt WITH HONORS . 8 611 gxo 6 E Q 394 355 L 35 3-iq J E gf: s 'RX .X s. X EQ 1. ,wi E E V-I2 14 l src ., -Y -' '- A-A-' f- ' JUNE NW NAR- JUNE DCI FEB. .wut oc1: re . Ju e 5 M 'WZ gqqg ai'-I M5 awe li'-I7 W49 ww was me MQ, N 5 PT IQHJUNE ENROLLMENT or THE CLASS or 1946 so L GRADUATIONS OF THE CLASS OF 1946

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,I , ' b 1 e house by Boston standards, used ilfmhifmefjldclhllijdtilliiid Sdgilazf rSf1ciiai'e iiigdl noted as the birthplace of Elihu Yale the founder ofa New Haven prep school. Harvard Square Qmzterl the Square with parking meters to meet its dehcits. The Coop lost 350,000 in a spectacular daylight robbery and prOmpfly announced that it would have to stop cashing checks as a precaution. i The Crimron, entering its seventy-fifth anniversary yf-Jflf, was still championing lost causes and during 1947-48 gave the Student Council and the Alumni Association's War Memorial Committee rather rough treatment for alleged Uinefliciencesf' With the '46 Triennial Reunion approaching in '49, the C1'im50'1 tumbled editorially about the strange circumstances of the '46 Class election and demanded a new ballot. The Young Republican Club's mock convention in New Lecture presaged a iiood of political clubs. ' . The Varsity Crew was nosed out by California in the Olympic trials at Princeton in july, which left the CUIHSOH with only three representatives at the London meet: Hammer- thrower Sam Felton, jr. '48, Forbes Ted Norris '49, a dis- tance swimmerg and Hilary Smart '47, who Went OU to Wm the star sailing competition. Q Dick Harlow, Harvard's head football coach since 1935, resigned in the fall of '47 because of ill-health and was replaced by Arthur Valpey from Michigan. Aldrich Durant, the Business Manager, reached the retirement age and an- nounced his resignation effective june, '48, along with Treasurer William Clafiin. Most of '46 had received their degrees by june, '48. Only a few were expected back in the fall. A handful attended Harvard's first pre-war summer school during the summer of '48, and found that parietal regulations had been amended for the summer to prohibit entertaining women in the men's dormitories and to institute quiet hours of all things. 1911 is one of the biggest trafhc headaches in the metropolitan area. Hayes Bic Criglalj along with Jim's Place, George's, the Bella Vista, and the O. G. are favorite Square eating spots. Epilogue This then was the College that we had come back to. We had completed the cycle . . . pen . . . sword . . . and pen once more. Our Harvard days were finished. We were free to debate the question of whether the education we had received was the best possible under the circumstances or whether we had missed something. We were at long last college graduates-a Latinized piece of paper testified to that, But exactly what that degree was supposed to mean we weren't sure. We were certain, however, that college didn't provide all the answers, and as we went out into the world, we could well wonder whether there was such a thing as morality or values . . . and if so, how did you reconcile them with the work-a-day world or the atom bomb . . . and how did you reconcile anything with the hundreds of millions of starving people in Europe and Asia and Africa. Perhaps at the 10th or 25th Class Reunions some of the answers will be clear, although quite possibly there are no answers to many of our questions. Only then will we be able to assess the education we received and the decisions we made in the Forties, some our own and others made for us. What will be remembered 10 or 25 years hence from our Harvard experiences? . . . an inspired lecture or an eye- opening discussion with tutor or professor ,... a torrid Wellesley date? . . . a night of beering? . . . an unsched- uled bull-session with the boys? . . . a long weekend fiow- ing about an exciting football game? . . . the beauty of the Yard and the River bank in the changing seasons? Probably all will melt nostalgically into a forgiving alumni's bigger-than-life remembrance of the good old days. M-J. S. W.