Yale University - Sheffield Scientific School Yearbook (New Haven, CT)

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p FRESHMAN YEAR 19 the season by printing one of their stock senior-with-top covers from the spring cover drawer. But the dailies! No placid pictures of mush-faced couples, but large red headlines of f'War In Mexico assailed our eyes. Even the News went so far as to install a news service-incongruous as this may seem-while the Cow talked of sending a correspondent to the front. Public opinion flared up like one of Jacob's flashlights. People who thought Mexico was a dance involuntarily cursed the name of Huerta, and the debating team smashed three hundred board feet of table tops arguing about it. Some talked of a Yale Cavalry troop, and a few hardy souls hired a herd of discarded brewery wagon chargers, tied their feet underneath, and demoralized the pedestrians between here and East Rock. But the real call to arms came a week later. A big P-rade was held by certain restless souls, and encouraged by far-sighted News heelers. This demonstration was, in a way, official, and ended by speeches from Taft and President Hadley, and loud cheers from all spectators, as in the Congressional Record. The next night the idea was improved on by the High- wall volunteers, who, headed by a fife and drum corps-all solo- ists-marched to arouse Academic from their soulless inertia. if---i ff :::-gr,:' ' at Qai- . r

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18 HISTORY OF 1916 S. were making early preparations for spring victories. Bunker was working with Coachman and the other track men, Bradley was increasing his collar measurements in the gymnasium, Buchanan began his ight for the baseball managership. But the average man just slumped. True, Bales and Bourke broke each other's windows with insane disregard for the economic waste, and 82 Wall opened new fields for experiments with the laws of chance. An occasional return of interest would be aroused when certain of our comrades mysteriously disappeared over con- siderable periods of time, to return in a body, somewhat sadder, but unmistakably wiser. Then too, the gloom would be slightly raised by sundry banquets which, it appeared, were customary at this time of year. But for the most part, we just gloomed, and gloated, and grumbled, and knocked. Outside, it rained, and sleeted, and snowed wet New Haven snow. And suddenly it was Easter! A week of heaven after three months of muddy purgatory. Then back for the final stretch. New Haven, we found, is a mighty diierent place in spring from New Haven in winter. Some like it wet, some like it dry, etc. On our return, we could hardly recognize the old town. A warm south wind blew over the scientincally farmed green. Seniors from the college were self-consciously carrying out the roller skate, top, and short pants traditions. Everywhere were Bock Beer signs. The spring had come. The motor iends were the first to take advantage of the season. Alderman ceased temporarily to complain about the high price of woolens. Alec Patton purchased his famous vehicle of the self-propelling type. At the Highwall, various unlicensed individuals hired motorcycles, and raced the local electrics. A notorious character, from the top floor of this building, who has begged me to omit his name on account of his family, but whom I will designate as A. B., was arrested for this low crime, and hauled before the court. There he was fined to the extent of 36, later increased to 36.50 by the clerk after hearing the prisoner's confessed intention of abandoning the machine forthwith. The clerk was a nephew of the dealer who rented it. The monthly and weekly periodicals were embellished with the inevitable 'spring girl covers, and even the Record recognized

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20 HISTORY OF 1916 S. The attempt was amazingly successful. The dozen Freshmen at once found themselves at the head of three thousand wild-eyed students, ready for any brand of violence, providing it was violent enough. The question arose of what to do with them. Desperate plans were suggested, as marching in one door of the Hoff, and out the other. Eventually, the ring leaders, as the only method of turning off the current they had induced, marched the college about the campus with ferocious cries of Salute, you l-! ! salute! until they dropt from sheer exhaustion. Sic transit! In this dispatch we call attention to the signal services of color sergeant Williamson, fife virtuoso Nicholson, and the heroic drummer boy, W. Decker-who, however, deserted on perceiving who was leading the procession. The year is almost at an end. Rufe Scott has won his well- deserved place on the News board, Schaffer, Bill Easton, and Art Milburn are gamboling upon the diamond, Ooachman and Preston make tracks upon the track, and Fletcher forces the well-known welkin to ring with raucous cries of, Oh, the bishop! , his rather remarkable line in the campus play. We clean up successively in baseball, and crew. Word comes that Will Chappell, and Jim Ooghill have made the Shay? Monthly. Modesty forbids the writer to mention the Record election at this time. It grows hotter. One week of ghastly tests, and then-VACATION! ! I Freshman year is over forever for all of us. We may hush up the Junior, and boast of the Senior year. But that first nine months at Yale will be looked back on with something between a laugh and a sigh. We came as children, and went as men. It is a far cry to that distant time. But the orthodox beginning of a college anecdote still remains, lt was, said lie, smiling reminiscently, in my Freshman year- J. A. OREELMAN.