Haverford College - Record Yearbook (Haverford, PA)

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contents

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introduction This is a record of Haverford College, 1950, not just a coverage of fhe four-year shenanigans of the graduating class. Not everyone, everything, could be included. In respect to those things that could not be covered, we hope that there is something here that will rennind you of them: of the cold dankness in the library foyer; of the weekly traffic jam at Collection exit; of rival political factions; of in-groups and out-groups; of the lawns that you couldn ' t walk on as a Freshman (Customs Committee), or as a Senior (the lawns were always in a state of re- cuperation); of baleful portraits and blaring music in the chow-hall. Of persons, places, things that mean Haverford to you. 1950, the mid-century mark, has been the cue for editors to comb their files for dusty, funny, photo- graphs and attitudes. Far be it from us at Haverford to ignore our unusual heritage, but rather than gaiing back in contemplation, we intend to become more aware of the value of what we have as it is applicable to our future. And in order to accent what we feel are valuable parts of our campus life, we have added sections to the year- book, put emphasis on in some places and taken it off in others. In the process no traditions have been badly shattered; we have tried to start some.

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dedication On a balmy day in late September of 1946, a snappy green coupe turned slowly off Lancaster Pike into College Lane. The driver noticed a slight figure in grey flannel plodding slowly up the Lane toward Barclay. The car screeched to a halt. Hop in, fella, said the driver. New here, aren ' t you, kid? he questioned. , Yes I am, his rider replied. A Freshman, huh? Yes, in a manner of speaking, I guess I am, came the reply. The car rounded the bend and approached Roberts Hall. Well, all out kid. And good luck. I ' m a Senior and take it from me, you ' ll find this is a great place. Say, what ' s your name anyway? The driver extended his hand. It ' s Gilbert White, said the grey-suited man with the crew cut. The Senior ' s jaw dropped. W-W-White? Not President White? he stuttered. That ' s right, replied the new president. And you needn ' t feel uncomfortable. After all, you ' re right. I am a Rhinie, smiled the President. Then he shook the Senior ' s limp right hand, turned and walked to his office in Roberts Hall . . . Such is the traditional tale of President White ' s introduction to Haverford. Now he, too, is a Senior, in a manner of speaking. Our four years at Haverford have been his first four; and as we have worked steadily toward our degrees, he has worked steadily toward making Haverford a better place for us and for those who will come after us. He has already done a great deal for Haverford, and those who have worked with him have come to respect and admire his qualities of leadership and his capacity for sincere friendship. And while we of the Class of 1950 have now reached the end of our careers at Haverford with the same feeling of regret that has gripped many before us, we can also carry with us the distinctive feeling that we have left behind one of our number under whose direction the College will continue to go forward. To President Gilbert F. White, an Administrator with vision, and a true friend, in the broadest scope and meaning of the word, this yearbook is dedicated.