Swarthmore College - Halcyon Yearbook (Swarthmore, PA)

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We watched, during those four years, as Swarthmore battled against the problems that were afflicting other small colleges, and realized that large faculty turnovers were part of the syndrome. But this still couldn ' t compensate for the loss of some of Swarthmore ' s oldest and dearest friends: Solomon Asch, Clair Wilcox and Samuel Hynes, and the many other good professors who either retired or resigned. We watched our own friends and classmates, almost forty percent, leave school for one reason or another. In 1966 we rode out the big social rule controversy only to see it buried again under a different rule, but with the same standards. In 1967 we saw SAC battle for a whole year over the liquor rule controversy, only to have that too unceremoniously buried. We saw the birth of a department of Sociology-Anthropology. And for four years we wondered just how good the Honors Program really was, and if there were any benefits to be gained by staying in Course if one were able to get into Honors. Finally we saw the Commissions established, and with them the chance for significant change; the chance for Swarthmore students who wanted to write, paint, act or dance to remain at Swarthmore, the chance for the precious elbow-room we needed so desperately during our college education. Something had to happen at Swarthmore College. During our four years the old era had definitely kicked its last and had died. A small college, more than any other, lives on its traditions: The Hamburg Show, the Folk Festival, Crum Parties, Somerville, Parrish Porch. Each one had been altered and slightly disarranged, some had died altogether. Whether the Student Life Committee ' s report will have any bearing on Swarthmore life during the next few years is highly doubtful. The administration assures us that it will continue to issue moral directives, drinking will not be allowed on the campus in the forseeable future, and there will apparently be a sex rule unpleasing to some. The college, as President Smith pointed out in his commencement address in 1967, is a corporation, and must be run as such, and Swarthmore students are, by-and-large, willing to let it remain as such. Yet what the Commission on Educational Policy has been able to see is that Swarthmore students need room to move in their education. They need the element of chance — the chance that they might come out of here and not go to grad school, to Law School or Medical School, or the chance to get excited by something that was non- academic.

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ome things never change. Magill Walk will always lead from the railroad tracks to Parrish Hall, you ' ll always need a key to climb Clothier tower on bright spring days, the Crum will always be beautiful in the winter, more beautiful in the spring and mosquito-infested in September. The food in the dining hall will never really be good enough, Swarthmore students will always play stretch in the spring. The basketball team will always lose. Some things change. Somerville is gone, and with it Somerville John. In its place, a luxurious student union. There is a new library, two new dorms, and a new admissions office. Ashton House is now a women ' s dormitory. It ' s getting harder to tell a jock from a bode. This was to be the year of Significant Change. In the spring of 1966, President Courtney Smith called for three Commissions to take a long, introspective look at the Swarthmore College community, and the Year of the Commissions was born. A year later they published their findings in Critique of a College and the Year of Change was at hand. Student Council expanded the Student Affairs Committee, and the departments elected representatives to meet with the faculty in Danforth Groups to discuss educational policy. Everyone seemed interested. When we first got here four years ago, they told us about a college that was friendly and hostile, big and small, kind but cruel. They told us that we were among the best. We were called Hoy ' s Revenge, the New Breed of Hoy ' s Wonders; wonderful enough to amaze the world with our peculiarities, smart enough to adapt to the work load, and naturally diverse and flexible enough to keep up with the change that was to come. in four years here, we watched the transition from Crum parties and lodge parties to Social Committee parties in the dining hall and off-campus beer blasts and private parties. We saw the polarization between jock and bode break down until there were no more bodes left. We saw the frats pledge better than fifty percent of the classes that were to come after us. We saw Swarthmore College trying to change its ragged, off-beat veneer and began to wonder what was becoming of those Swedish peasant girls Gunnar Myrdal wrote about. e a

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In four years at Swarthmore, we saw the end of an old-era and hopefully the beginning of another. We were part of neither. Some of us didn ' t care what became of M. L. 4, what became of Crum parties, or what became of the old Swarthmore songs. Some did, but all of us realized that they were gone. Whatever the traditions that replace them, we won ' t be here to share them, and for the most part, we were unable to share the old ones. But, as we said before, some things never change. There is a pervading attitude at Swarthmore that will never change, but perhaps due to the Commissions it will slacken a bit. The campus will always be beautiful, especially in the spring, and perhaps there will soon be time enough to enjoy it. Perhaps in the next few years people will be able to write for the Phoenix not because some day they hope to be editor, but because they enjoy doing it. Perhaps people will be able to get interested again, like they were this year. Swarthmore still has beards and blue jeans, but the people wearing them are a little different. Swarthmore will continue to have an Honors Program, but probably now the people it produces will be a little different. Swarthmore will continue to have its traditions, and they too will be a little different. And probably every spring people will play stretch in front of the library. Swarthmore, we could have had such a damn good time together. — Dave Cohen