The Dartmouth Review 10.14.2013 Volume 33, Issue 8

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Page 1 The Dartmouth Review October 11, 2013

Dartmouth’s Only Independent Newspaper

Volume 33, Issue 8

October 12, 2013

The Hanover Review, Inc.P.O. Box 343

Hanover, NH 03755

Coming Home

Including

Some Thoughts From Robert FrostA History of Dartmouth CollegeRebuilding Dartmouth UnityDartmouth Night: Two Histories

My Daughter Won’t Go to DartmouthFreshmen Count Down Days to FratsSic Semper Journalis! To Arms! & The Return of The Week In Review

The Dartmouth Review




Some Thoughts from Robert Frost By Robert Frost

Frost ‘96 delivered this commencement address in 1955,

though it is denitely of more interest for those entering their

rst or last year of Dartmouth and still have time to change.

For those about to begin their education and for those

about to nish theirs. Was there ever a more subtly dark take

on education? And can one ever truly nish their education?

Finish growing into their life?

This is a rounding out for you, and a rounding out is the

main part of it. You’re rounding out four years. I’m rounding

out something like 63, isn’t it? But it is a real rounding out for

me. I’m one of the original members of the Outing Club—

me and Ledyard. You don’t know it, and I shouldn’t tell it

perhaps, but I go every year, once a year, to touch Ledyard’s

monument down there, as the patron saint of freshmen who

run away. And I ran away because I was more interested in

education than anybody in the College at that time.

I thought I’d say to you just a few words about that, and

so as to lead up to two or three poems of my own. I usually

am permitted to say a poem or two—am expected to. I’ll

make them short and easy for you to listen to.

But you came to college bringing with you something

to go on with—that was the idea from my point of view:something to go on with. And you brought it with an instinct,

I hope, to keep it—not to have it taken away from you, not to

have it tkaen away from you, not to be bamboozled out of it

or scared out of it by any fancy teachers. I’ve known teachers

with a real hanker for ravishing innocence. They like to tell

you things that will disturb you.

Now, I think the College itself has given you one thing

of importance I’d like to speak of. It’s given you, slowly,

gradually, the means to deal with that sort of thing, not only

in college but the rest of your life. The formula would be

something like this: always politely accept the other man’s

premises. Don’t contradict anybody. It’s contentious and ill

natured. Accept the premises—take it up where it’s given you

and then show ’em what you can make of it. You’ve been

broadened and enlarged to where you can listen to almost

anything without losing your temper or your self-condence.

You came from the “Bible belt,” let’s say. You were con-

fronted with the facts of evolution. It was supposed to disturb

you about your God. But you found a way to say—either with

presence of mind, wittily, or slowly with meditation—you

found the way to say, “Sure, God probably didn’t make man

out of mud. But He made him out of prepared mud.” You still

had your God, you see.

You were a Bostonian and you had been brought up to

worship the cod. To you the cod was sacred and her eggs pre-

cious. You were confronted with facts of waste in nature. One

cod egg is all that survives of a million. And you said—what

did you say? You found something to say, surely. You said,

“Perhaps those other eggs were necessary in order to make

the ocean a proper broth for the one to grow up in. No waste;

just expense.” And so on.

I myself have been bothered by certain things. I’ve been

bothered by rapid reading. All my teaching days I’ve heard

rapid reading advocated as if it were something to attain to.

Yes, sure; accept the premises, always, as a gentleman. Rapid

reading—I’m one of the rapidest of readers. I look on all the

reading you do in college—ten times as much a year as I do

in ten years, and I’m a reader—I look on it as simply scan-

sion. You’re simply looking the books over to see whether

you want to read ’em, later. It comes to that; and accepting it

that way. The word’s gone forth, you happen to know prob-

ably, that the rapid reading is going to be played down in the

educational world. But it can be regarded as simple scansion.

What you’re doing as a rapid reader is saying, per para-

graph, per paragraph, “Yeah, I know” (two words you see in

it)— “Yeah, that about ‘togetherness’” “Yeah.” And, paragraph

by paragraph you know that that’s what it would say if youread it all. And you can do that by the chapter—the chapter

titles. You say, “Yeah,” you know, “I know what that chapter

would be.” You can go further than that: “I can tell by the

spine of the book.” Very rapid reader.

Always fall in with what you’re asked to accept, you

know; fall in with it—and turn it your way. Expression like

“divine right.”—Divine right? yes,—if you let me make what

I want of it: the answerability of the ruler, of the leader; the

rst answerability to himself. That’s his divine right. First

answerability to his highest in himself, to his God.

Then one more that I’d just like to speak of—you run on

to these things all the time. I live on them. I’m going to tellyou that every single one of my poems is probably one of

these adaptations that I’ve made. I’ve taken whatever you give

me and made it what I want it to be. That’s what every one of

the poems is. I look over them. They are no arguments. I’ve

never contradicted anybody. My object in life has been to hold

my own with whatever’s going—not against, but with—to

hold my own. To come through college holding my own so

that I won’t be made over beyond recognition by my family

and my home town, if I ever go back to it. It’s a poor sort of

person, it seems to me, that delights in thinking, “I have had

four years that have transformed me into somebody my own

mother won’t know.” Saint Paul had one conversion. Let’s

leave it to Saint Paul. Don’t get converted. Stay.

This one turns up, too—another expression. They say,

“If eventually, why not now?” I say, “Yeah,” but also, “if

eventually, why now?”You’ve got to handle these things. You’ve got to have

something to say to the Sphinx. You see, that’s all. And you’ve

been, I’m pretty sure—you’ve come more and more to value

yourself on being able to handle whatever turns up.

What would you say to this one? (You probably haven’t

encountered it . I have lately.) We hired a Swede to come over

here and pass an expert’s opinion on our form of government.

And after he passed his judgment on it, we invited him back and

gave him another honorary degree, just like this. (Never mind

his name—we won’t go into names—maybe I’ve forgotten

it.) But, anyway, did you hear what his judgment was? That

our form of government is a conspiracy against the common

man.

You’ve been enlarged and broadened to where you can

listen to anything without getting mad. So have I. But I have

to have something to say to that, sooner or later—on the spur

of the moment, to show my wit, or at leisure, you know, to

show my ability at reasoning, my reasoning powers. Well,

the answer to that is that that’s what it was intended to be. It

was intended to be a conspiracy against the common man.

Let him make himself uncommon. He wasn’t to be put in the

saddle. And so on. Now I conclude that.

This is an emotional occasion to me. Mr. Dickey has

made it an emotional occasion, very much of an emotion,

such as has seldom happened to me in my life. I’ve been in

and out of Dartmouth all these many years and known the

presidents—no one so intimately as I’ve known Mr. Dickey.

Part of what I’m saying to you springs from what he’s been

saying. He spoke very sternly to you; splendidly, with splendid

sternness.

What I ask of you is the same: Have you got enlarged

a little bit? Have you broaded a little bit in these years, as

you might have outside? (I don’t know, maybe more so in

college than out.) Have you got where you can take care of

yourself in the conicts of thought—in the stresses of thought,

not conicts, stresses. I’d rather hold my own with anybody

than hold my own against anybody—with him. That makes

a polite evening—and polite class, a better class than any

other.

Shall I say you a poem or two? And you can maybe guess

what I was doing in the poems, after what I’ve said. Suppose

I say to you one called “Mending Wall”—countried poem.

And shall I tell you beforehand what I was dealing with in

it? I’d heard that life was cellular, in the body and outside

the body. Nobody’d ever put it in so many words, but I kept

hearing something that made me see that life was cellular.

(Even the Communists have cells.) All life is cellular, that’sall the poem says. It didn’t say that when I was writing it; it

didn’t say it until long afterward. It’s of the nature of mythol-

ogy to be wiser than philosophy, because it says things in

stories before it says them in abstractions. All mythology’s

like that. The Greeks’ mythology covered everything we’ve

ever thought in philosophy, but covered it in stories. And the

abstraction emerges even with the man that makes the stories.

[Mr. Frost recited “Mending Wall”.]

See, that all about life being cellular. I didn’t think of that

’til years after I wrote it. And you may be sure it is—walls

going down and walls coming up, between nations and inside

your own body. In seven years, you know, you’re a different person, though you don’t notice it.

Then, little one—two more—little one, again. This is

called “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening.”

[Mr. Frost said “Stopping by Woods on A Snowy Eve -

ning.”]

Now everybody suspected that there was something in

that line, “But I have promises to keep.” You see. And they

pursued me about that, and so I’ve decided to have a mean-

ing for it. Finally, a committee waited on me about it. I said,

“Promises may be divided into two kinds: those I make for

myself, and those my ancestors made for me known as the

social contract.” See, that’s a way out of that.

Then, two more—one another little one. I’d like to say

one to you that I wrote when I was about your age—just about

the time (’95 or 6 along there) just when I should have been

graduating, you know, instead of now.I saw you all I suppose, pretty much—’tis but yesterday,

isn’t it, we were in the G.I.—had you all where I could talk

to you—about Tom Paine I talked about to you there. I didn’t

get any great answer out of you. You didn’t get angry enough.

This one is called—it’s better without the name. It’s

about our American Revolution. I’ve met many who though

the British were to blame, and I’ve met a few Americans

who thought the Americans were to blame. Well, it doesn’t

matter. Accept the premises. Anybody’s premise is all right.

Nobody was to blame. All it was the beginning of the end

of colonialism. No animus on my part. “The land was ours

before we were the land’s.” It’s all summed up in that, you

see.

[Mr. Frost recited “The Gift Outright.”]

That poem’s twenty-ve or thirty or forty years old. It

isn’t just got up for the occasion of all this talk about the

end of colonialism. Ours was the beginning of the end of

colonialism, and that poem makes the point that ours was

the beginning of the end of colonialism.

Then, one more. You know you hear about retreat and

you hear about escape. When people talk about escape, I want

to talk about retreat. Just that way it’s pretty near the same

thing, but just my shade of difference. This is the last one.

This is called “Birches.”

[Extended applause after “Birches.”]

Shall I say one absurd one in parting? Somebody con-

gratulated me the other night on getting through an occasion

without every reciting this one. It’s hard—it’s a sort of temp-

tation to sort of break it up, you know, break up the meeting.

One of the things that you suspect the academic world of is

overpowering, overwhelming departmentalism, you know—

passing-the-buckism, whatever you call it. But now I’ve never

suffered from that at all. That’s why I ran away and all that.

I’ve just kept dodging round—just the same as I ran away, I

dodged—and I’ve never got caught at the departmentalism,

never suffered from it. But you’d think I had from this poem.

This is an agony. Shows where agonies come from, you know,

from nowhere. The less there is to them, the stronger they

can be.

I’ll emphasize the rhyme and meter in this for the fun of

it. Of course you’ve heard me do it, some of you have. This

is about an ant I met in Key West. It’s not a New England

poem at all, I like to say that disclaimer. It’s got nothing to

do with college or my having suffered form departmentalism,

but it’s just very objective.

[Mr. Frost then said “Departmental.”]

And remember for me, will you, the one thing, that you’vereached the place where you can listen to what anybody says

and, you know, just pull it your way with one little, nice pull.

That’s what makes life. n

The land was ours before we were the land’sShe was our land more than a hundred yearsBefore we were her people. She was oursIn Massachussets, in Virginia,But we were England’s, still colonials,Possessing what we still were unpossessed by,Possessed by what we now no more possessed.

Something we were withholding from our land of living, And forthwith found salvation in surrender.Such as we were we gave ourselves outright(The deed of gift was many deeds of war) To the land vaguely realizing westward,But still unstoried, artless, unenhanced,Such as she was, such as she would become.

The Gift Outright



October 11, 2013 The Dartmouth Review Page 3

About two years ago, I began recommending to all of

my female friends approaching the age of college applica-tions that they remove Dartmouth from their list of target

schools. Even from their safeties. It broke my heart to do

so since I was in love with Dartmouth. This change of

heart was nigh impossible for my parents to believe after

the two years I had spent singing the praises of Dartmouth

to them. And that love hasn’t disappeared. I still believe

Dartmouth is a wondrous school, but mostly for men.

There are so many rea-

sons for this, many of which

are impossible to discuss in

such a short format as this

editorial, but I’d like to

focus on the gender roles

on campus. Now, I know

that for most of our read-

ers, those words are mostassociated with departments

ending in the word “studies”

and usually accompanied by

shudders, but hear me out.

I’ve always been a

feminist. Now, that doesn’t

mean I run around shouting

for equal pay or the right of

women to be promiscuous

without judgment. I believe

both men and women should

be held to higher standards

of conduct and clothing than

is currently accepted. But that’s neither here nor there. I

was what my father always described as a “Wild West”

feminist. My sister grew up with four boys and wrestled

and fought just as much as the rest of us. She read books,

she fought for her ideas and I ’d be damned if anyone told

her what she could or could not do. If she wanted to be a

doctor, fine. If she wanted to be President, I’d vote for her.

It just so happens that she

wants to be a housewife.

Fine, it’s what she wants

and that’s a noble calling.

If she ever changes her

mind, that’s fine too.

The trouble is, I don’t

know whether she could

have had the same journey

of self-discovery, mental exploration and argument at

Dartmouth. It’s shocking for a Western homeschooled hick

to see how women interact in the classroom here. They

seem to feel the need to be tame. Women once told me that

they felt pressure to appear stupid, air-headed, and ditzy. I

didn’t believe that was true until I came to Dartmouth. It

was a revelation to me to see how differently Dartmouth

women behaved in the workplace on off-terms. They were

direct, argumentative, and thoughtful. They didn’t feel the

need to play a role anymore.

Unfortunately, I believe most Dartmouth women are

forced to play a role. But sadly, it isn’t even a well-defined

role with good and bad characteristics. It lacks the chastity

and loyalty of the archetypal housewife of the 1950’s. But

maintains the flaws of ditzy and yielding. At the sametime, other roles force themselves on stage: the corporate

woman and the empowered womyn. Now, I wouldn’t be

disturbed by either of these roles. Empowered, thoughtful

and feminist womyn have often been my best friends and

my staunchest intellectual foes. But here, they seem stifled.

Shockingly, Dartmouth women are not taken seriously

in debates or classroom activities. They are often over-

whelmed by men or worse,

ignored. I find myself

often shocking Dartmouth

groups by how frankly I

will disagree with women

and point out how I think

they are wrong. Perhaps I’m

just abrasive, but it seems to

me that there’s somethingelse in the air. It’s that

when women at Dartmouth

express their opinions, they

are met with blank nods

of smiling approval. As

if they were five year old

children performing a play,

Dartmouth women are toler-

ated, but not argued with. As

a result, they do not receive

the same educational op-

portuni ties as men who are

forced to defend and debate

their arguments. This is not a hard and fast rule, but merely

what I have observed.

A corporate woman is about as respectable as a corpo-

rate man. In my mind, that’s not very much, unless either

of them also manages to accomplish valuable tasks on the

side of their corporate career. Yet at Dartmouth, women

in corporate recruiting are often seen as competitors to

the male students. If they

fail, it’s because they were

women. If they succeed,

it’s because of affirmative

action. Either way, they lack

respect.

And what’s far worse is

that women are expected to

negotiate the delicate inter-

play between each of these roles. To seem approachable ,

but not promiscuous. To seem strong and independent, but

not so much so that everyone assumes you’re a lesbian.

And certainly, never ever to seem so intelligent and ar-

gumentative that everyone just calls you a cuss word and

ignores you.

I’d rather send my daughters somewhere they won’t

have to pick and choose from a set of conflicting expecta-

tions. Where they won’t have to worry about being too smart

or too argumentative. You may think that no such place

exists, but I’ve been homeschooled, to charter schools and

boarding schools - and they were al l far better for women

than Dartmouth for these and many other reasons. n

Editorial

I Won’t Send My Daughters

to Dartmouth

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FoundersGreg Fossedal, Gordon Haff,

Benjamin Hart, Keeney Jones

“Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win great triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to takerank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.”

—Theodore Roosevelt

Special Thanks to William F. Buckley, Jr.

Thomas J.P. Harrington Editor-in-Chief

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Mean-Spirited, Cruel and Ugly Legal Counsel

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Submit letters by mail, fax at (603) 643-1470, or e-mail:[email protected]

John C. MelvinSports Editor

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Kingsley, Michael Haughey, Kush Desai, Christopher

Novak, Henry Woram & Jay Keating.

We are not a paper with deadlines.

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Kirk Jing • James G. Rascoff

Managing Editors

Martin J. GatensVice President

Hilary H. Hamm Media Editor

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Caroline A. Sohr Arts & Culture Editor

Martin Anderson, Patrick Buchanan, Dinesh D’Souza,

Michael Ellis, Robert Flanigan, John Fund, Kevin

Robbins, Gordon Haff, Jeffrey Hart, Laura Ingraham,

Mildred Fay Jefferson, William Lind, Steven Menashi,

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Rusher, Weston Sager, Emily Esfahani Smith, R. Emmett

Tyrrell, Sidney Zion

TheDartmouth Review

Nicholas P. Desatnick • Nicolas S. Duva

James G. Rascoff News Editors

Some Thoughts from Robert Frost Page 2The Week in Review Pages 4 & 5

The Storied History of Dartmouth College Pages 6 & 7Rebuilding Dartmouth Unity Page 8A Letter on Dealing with Journalists Page 8Freshmen Count Down Days to Frats Page 9Dartmouth Night: A History Page 10Dartmouth Night: A Day in the Life Page 11Last Word & Mixology Page 12

Inside This Issue

Thomas J.P. Harrington

It was nigh impossible for my parents to

believe after the rst two years I had spent

singing the praises of Dartmouth to them that I

couldn’t recommend it to my female friends. I

still believe Dartmouth is a wondrous school,

but mostly for men.

Will R.F. DuncanWeb Editor

Taylor D. Cathcart Director of Marketing




Stinson’s: Your Pong HQCups, Balls, Paddles, Accessories

(603) 643-6086 | www.stinsonsvillagestore.com

do well to consider subsidizing beer avoring devices whichwould satisfy the sweet tooth of many students in a much

less dangerous way. After all, a pink lemonade avored beer

is far safer than a pink lemonade batch.

McGrew Returns To

The Green

In January of this year, a member of the Class of 2013

by the name of Jennifer McGrew published a vitriolic edito-

rial in The Daily Dartmouth in which she listed numerous

complaints of claimed “injustices” she had suffered during

her four years at the college. While it is true that racism ex-

ists at Dartmouth, the examples she was able to provide from

her personal experience were lacking in substance, to say theleast.

Amongst the most egregious insults she suffered while

on campus were “I no longer wonder why my peers outside of

the classroom ignore me” and “I no longer think twice about

moving aside as my white counterparts walk past me on the

sidewalk.” Ms. McGrew, it is NOT racism if people you have

never met do not acknowledge you as you walk along, but in

fact it is a common social norm in the NorthEast. And if you

do not wish to step off the sidewalk when people are coming

the other way, feel free to stay on it and let them move. They

will not be offended.

In another part of her editorial, Ms. McGrew stated “I

cannot wait to get my Dartmouth diploma, walk across the

stage, and gaze at the green for the last time.” This would seem

a fair sentiment if her Dartmouth experience truly had been

as awful as her editorial led readers to believe. However, ithas recently come to light that the new “Community Outreach

Coordinator at Dartmouth College Career Services” is none

other than Ms. Jennifer McGrew, class of 2013. It seems that

instead of gazing on the green for the last time and venturing

off into the world, Ms. McGrew has come back to takeadvantage of the enormous administrative bureaucracy that

is largely responsible for the outrageous tuition burden being

forced upon the current students of the college. If only she

had taken her own advice, and not “looked back”…

Oberlin Racial Slurs

Revealed as Hoax

Racist incidents on college campuses are a nationwide

problem (yes, they are not just limited to Dartmouth), but

recently, Oberlin College has had some of the most outra-

geous ones. Last spring, racist, homophobic, anti-Muslim,

and anti-Semitic slurs plagued the northern Ohio campus.

The messages were extremely hateful: “Martin Looter KoonJr.,” “Celebrate Nigger History Munf! Rape a White Woman,”

“Don’t condone so-called ‘self-defense’ don’t ‘stand with’

Israel,” and “Faggots go against nature! Arrest them.” These

malicious actions convinced Oberlin to cancel classes for a

day in order to reect upon community and diversity. The

college held teach-ins, organized discussions groups, and

“promoted dialogue” among the student body.

But these actions were not the work of an intolerant

ideologue seeking to oppress minorities. Rather, the racist

grafti was the work of ignorant provocateurs. Dylan Bleier

and Matt Alden, two Oberlin students, perpetrated the scrawled

the racist messages over campus in order to “troll” the cam-

pus. “I’m doing it as a joke,” Bleier told campus police, “to

see the college overreact to it as they have with the other

racial postings that have been posted on campus.” Bleier, a

staunch supporter of president Obama and a self-described“atheist/pacist/environmentalist/libertarian socialist/conse-

quentialist,” was a member of an Ithaca-based group called

“White Allies against Structural Racism.” Before engaging

a lawyer, Bleier was relatively open in his discussions with

The Week in Review

Dogfsh Head Breaks

Barriers Yet Again

With Beer Flavoring

Dogsh Head Brewery has always been famous for their

ability to craft unique and daring beers. From 120 Minute

India Pale Ales with 17 to 18% alcohol content to green

beers with algae in them, Dogsh Head is always pushing the

boundaries of taste, but remaining rmly within the bounds

of good taste. After all, at the end of the day, you do have to

drink the beer, don’t you?

But now, you can do this experimentation at home! Bring

home the Randall Jr. Now, while this gadget may sound like

it wears trucker hats and plaid to weddings, it actually is quite

the nifty little whatsit. After all, it’s easy enough to use. As

Today’s reviewer put it:

Randall Jr. boasts a simpler design for home use. It

looks like a clear travel mug, but one with a double-

decker lid. There’s a wire mesh that screws on top of the

clear plastic cup, straining whatever is poured out of it,

and a green cap that screws on top of the mesh, sealing the contents for freshness.

Simply place the ingredients you wish to infuse into your

beer - be they hot peppers, fruit, herbs or candy - and then

ll the chamber with beer, screw on the lid, and place it in

the fridge for 20 minutes.

When your timer goes off, you screw off the top of the

lid assembly, leaving the wire strainer on top of the vessel,

and pour Randall Jr.’s contents into your glass without the

added ingredients following along.

You’re left with a glassful of avor-infused beer, which

might be lacking in carbonation – the beer tends to foam

up when it meets the ingredients in Randall Jr.’s 16-ounce

cup – but certainly isn’t lacking in avor.

Certainly sounds like quite the invention, but is it actually

useful?

While The Dartmouth Review’s investigative journalistassigned to the class has disappeared somewhere into the

recesses of [fraternity name redacted]’s basement, we have

found by scouring the internet that in fact, the contraption

is very popular, producing such wonderful concoctions as

blonde wheat beer with baby watermelon, IPA with peach

and a hint of habanero, stout with vanilla and espresso bean,

and even oatmeal stout with Reese’s peanut butter cup for

the truly adventurous.

Indeed, interestingly enough, the Randall Jr. is a min-

iature version of the device, which was originally intended

for pubs. Perhaps fraternities could be persuaded to purchase

such devices and install them in their basements? Perhaps

certain fraternities would develop different tastes and serve

new niches? Personally, I can’ t even imagine what a candy

avored Keystone Light would do for pong. Or what if this

drove the fraternities to begin choosing better beers, beer for sipping as opposed to chugging? One of our staffers reports

that his experience with a limited edition Hello Kitty Cotton

Candy ale was quite...unique. Arguably, if Dean Johnson

wanted to avoid future incidents with hard alcohol, she might

These Beta emails are bad enough that the press and administration will get mad at them but conrms to

everyone else how soft they are.

--Col. Donovan ‘39




The Week in Review

campus police: “I posted [Oberlin President] Krislov’s head

photoshopped onto Hitler’s body LoL.”

Unbeknownst to the student body, the Oberlin adminis-

tration knew the entire time that the incidents were a hoax.

While Oberlin swiftly removed Bleier and Alden from campus

for their despicable behavior, the administration never made

public their knowledge of the incidents. While messages like a

“whites only” sign above a water fountain and Nazi ags in a

student center are always hurtful, Oberlin could have reassured

the student body that the perpetrators were not members of

the KKK or the Nazi Party. Many Oberlin students lived in

fear of the presence such extremists when in fact there were

none. Following the racist incidents, there was “a report of

a person wearing a hood and robe resembling a KKK outt”

near Oberlin’s African Heritage House. Fear, unalloyed by

the Oberlin administration, took hold of campus. It turned out

that this alleged Klan member was just a woman wrapped in

a blanket. Furthermore, the Oberlin administration allowed

the pair to gain the attention they sought by allowing the

incidents to develop into a national story.

When the hoax caught national news, Oberlin president

Marvin Krislov used the media spotlight as an opportunity

for self-aggrandizement and “strengthening the emphasis on

diversity.” Krislov wrote a piece in Oberlin’s alumni maga-

zine entitled “A Fitting Response,” where he commended the

Oberlin community for turning “hate into an opportunity to

educate.” Never mind that this “hate” was in fact just extreme

immaturity and ignorance. Krislov really turned immaturity

into an opportunity to lament a supposed “institutional racism”

and preach from his ivory tower while lying to his students

and destroying the image of Oberlin.

Internal Emails from

Beta Reveal Little But

Mild Hazing

Earlier this week, campus was rocked by the sudden

appearance of yet another scandal. Dartmouth fraternities

had once more surged into the headlines. Well, not quite. In

fact, Beta Alpha Omega (or as they apparently prefer to be

known “Beta Alpha Bromega”) had only just made it to an

article on Gawker, an internet blog about colleges and a grab

bag of other such sundry and sultry subjects. Their crime?

Well, nothing too extreme: their entire email server was left

public by accident and so, all emails sent to the Beta server could be downloaded or read by anyone.

As a result, the deepest, darkest secrets of Beta were

revealed to the public. The overall response by college stu-

dents and even the would-be muckrakers at Gawker was...

disbelief at how tame Beta truly was. There was a picture

sent out of a clogged toilet, an email or two expressing re-

gret about a young girl who hit her head during a party by

accident (which might raise questions of witness tampering

since the fraternity members understandably asked the female

in question to not implicate the fraternity itself), and most

incriminatingly, a four page document describing the events

for a “Sink Night.” As every Dartmouth student knows, there

is always a ritual of some kind to introduce pledges or New

Members in a fraternity or sorority to the brotherhood. This

is known as “Sink Night” where the individuals “sink” their

bids at a particular organization and become pledges at thatorganization.

Of course, rumors spread about every house’s sink night

and the supposed horrors that lie waiting for innocent sopho-

mores. But here for the rst time is incontrovertible evidence

of such activities. And...it’s shockingly tame.

The pledges were split up and taken into separate rooms

where they would be either interviewed with such brainteas-

ing questions as “If olive oil comes from olives, where does

baby oil come from?” or “Would you rather save 3 children

or 1 adult?”

Another room would simply be a serious discussion of

pledge term. In the “Zoo” room, brothers went a little farther

and asked them “Which brother has the hottest girlfriend?”

And if they started to answer that, they were supposed to cut

them off by saying “‘Don’t F*#@ anser that one pledge’ then

call the pledge a ‘home wrecker.’” Yes, that is precisely how

tame the document is - a bunch of college boys who can’t

even type out an obscenity in a secret document for suppos-

edly hazing individuals.

In another station, the pledges would have to sit there

and listen to terrible music including heavy metal. Sweet

Jehosophat, that must have been incredibly painful for the

poor dears.

At the last station, brothers were told to be explicitly ex-

tremely nice to the pledges in a slightly over the top manner.

While this might be slightly mentally distressing, it’s hard to

consider this a hazing experience.

Finally, the pledges were led blindfolded into the base-

ment, put in a circle and...sprayed with champagne. They then

removed their blindfolds and participated in a ceremony of

welcome with the whole brotherhood that involved singingsongs together and passing around a “loving cup” lled with

alcohol which everyone took a swig from. If they chose to,

that is.

You see the document ends with the following in bold

and large font:

Never force a pledge to drink. Ask them if they’re

drinking, if yes - drink when need be. If not, make

someone else drink for them.

Be very conscious if some pledges are drinking a

lot. Never allow a pledge to take more than one shot

at your station. It is not worth the risk. If they get

two things wrong, make someone else drink and say

that it’s because “you’ve heard Pledge X is a pussy

who can’t handle it” (or something to that effect)

Beta was attempting to be reasonable, careful and thoughtful

while aslo introducing pledges to the house. Too bad they’ll be punished for their caution.

Bruce Rauner Selects

Running Mate for Illi-

nois Governor

Around the country, all eyes are rmly xed upon the

race for the governor’s mansion in Illinois. The current

Democratic governor, Pat Quinn, barely won election in 2010

by less than a percentage point or thirty thousand votes. It

was the seventh closest gubernatorial election in American

history according to well-known publication Politico. His

opponent Bill Brady, an Illinois State Senator, won all but four

of Illinois 100+ counties. As the years dragged on, Governor

Quinn found himself caught in a morass of difcult decisions

including cutting the budget, increasing the personal income

tax and the corporate tax rate multiple times to nearly double

their original rates, and cutting public union contracts signi-

cantly. By December 2012, Governor Quinn saw the Illinois

unemployment rate rise to fth highest in th United States.

Consequently, his approval rating has cratered.

In a recent poll, his approval rating as governor had

dropped to below 25%. He even faced a competitive primary

until recently when Former White House Chief of Staff Bill

Daley dropped out of the race. Yet, his greatest challenge will

be in the general where he will face one of four Republicans.

State Senator Bill Brady wants a rematch, but three

other Republicans are also jockeying to be at the top of the

GOP ticket. They include seasoned politicians State Senator

Kirk Dillard and State Treasurer Dan Rutherford as well as

a political new-comer: Bruce Rauner.

Yes, that is the same Rauner who donated the special

collections library that so many students pass on their way to

classes every day. A son of Dartmouth and a former private

equity guru who helped support many state pension funds

with outsized returns, Rauner threw his hat into the ring for

governor in early June 2013. Although he served as an advi-sor to Chicago Mayor Rahm Emanuel, Rauner has largely

avoided the realm of politics up until this point.

Rauner drove this point home with his recent announc-

ment of a running mate this past Wednesday. He chose a

rst-term member of a city council named Evelyn Sanguinetti,

the daughter of immigrant parents from Cuba and Ecuador.

She even touted her own credentials as an outsider, saying

at a campaign stop: “I’m sure a [under ve foot] Latina

with an Italian last name is not what the career politicians

had expected...I’m not part of a Springeld club, I’m not an

insider.”

Rauner has focused his campaign on education reform

where he has seen success as a philanthropist in the past.

While his choice of such a little-known gure may seem

odd, it’s important to remember that the Lieutenant Governor

of Illinois often has little power or responsibility and oftenattracts little-known candidates. By choosing someone who

complements his strengths, Mr. Rauner keeps himself in the

race as well as highlights the anti-corruption message from

his television ads.

While he currently polls in third place, the primary is

fairly divided and over a third of the electorate remains un-

decided. Mr. Rauner may be able to catapault himself into the

general election where he will face a very weak Quinn who

trails most of his challengers already in hypothetical polls. If

that happens, we may be able to add another name to that of

Senator Portman (Ohio - R) as Dartmouth alums who have

taken on powerful public service roles to help ease the pain

of the Great Recession.

Dartmouth FootballLoses to Penn in Lon-

gest Ivy League Game

In what is now ofcially the longest football game in

the history of the Ivy League, Dartmouth lost to Penn 37-

31 on October 5th. The game required a remarkable four

overtimes to be decided, with Dartmouth nally losing on a

20 yard touchdown run by Penn’s Kyle Wilcox. There were

two agonizingly close opportunities for Dartmouth to have

won, the rst being a eld goal attempt that was blocked in

the last play of regulation and the second being another kick

that went slightly wide in the rst overtime.

Standout performances by Big Green athletes included

sophomore quarterback Victor Williams, who completed 26 of 45 for a career high 296 passing yards and two touchdowns, as

well as senior running back Dominick Pierre, who carried the

ball 21 times for a total of 151 yards, his best performance so

far this season. This loss to the Quakers marked the end of a

seven game winning streak on the road for the Big Green and

was the sixth straight year that Dartmouth has lost to Penn.

The game was a close one however, as neither team ever led

by more than one touchdown. Hopefully, the Big Green will

be able to muster the same impressive offensive performance

and a bit more luck for Homecoming weekend, as they take

on the Bulldogs of Yale University. Students plan to turn out

in droves for the Homecoming football game as the team’s

resurgence as a force in Ivy League football has drawn ever

more fans from the student body. n

Back in my day, we just transmitted our jokes by a special variant of Morse Code involving didgeridoos and three

tin cans.

-Col. Donovan ‘39




The Storied History of Dartmouth College

—Daniel Webster—

Editor’s note: The following short history of the Col -

lege and her presidents has beneted many contributors

over the years. It is always valuable to know the history of

such a famous and storied place as the College on the Hill.

Homecoming is a time to enshrine those memories as sacred

and beautiful.

Dartmouth represents the ninth oldest of America’s

Colonial Colleges. Established in 1769, she was the lastto receive her charter from England’s Crown. Dartmouth’s

founding has since become a matter of legend, at the center

of which lies one man’s unlikely vision, for a small school

among New England’s wilderness. In the ensuing decades,

Eleazar Wheelock, Samson Occom, and Daniel Webster,

Dartmouth’s favorite son, have all emerged as larger-than-life

gures. Learning about their journeys is as integral a part to

the Dartmouth experience as DOC Trips, Winter Carnival, or

the Green itself. We present their stories here, among others,

in a fundamental overview of our College’s celebrated history.

Eleazar Wheelock and Samson Occom

A sense of divine mission, which guided Wheelock

to found Dartmouth,

drove his life’s manyother pursuits. Born in

Windham, Connecti-

cut in 1711, Whee-

lock graduated from

Yale in 1733, and

was subsequently or-

dained as a preacher.

Soon afterwards, he

became seized by the

Great Awakening, a

religious fever spread-

ing throughout New

England. The Awak-

ening particularly in-

uenced Wheelock’s

sermons, which regu-

larly reduced audi-

ences to tears.

One of Whee-

lock’s rst pupils was

Samson Occom, a young Connecticut Mohegan who was

converted in the Awakening’s very heat. Wheelock helped

him prepare for college until Occom’s weak eyes forced

an abandonment of study. Occom established himself as a

schoolteacher in New London, later becoming a preacher

and schoolmaster to the Montauk tribe of Long Island. The

manufacture and sale of wooden spoons, cedar pails, churns,

and leather books, as well as shing and hunting, sustained

Occom’s large family, as well as his missionary work.

His efforts led Wheelock to conceive of a language and

missionary school, for Indian as well as white students, in

the Colonies’ heart. After receiving a £500 bequest from

two young Delawares, and an equivalent donation of land

and buildings from Colonel Joshua More, Wheelock set up

More’s (later Moor’s) Indian Charity School, in 1754. The

charity school was a pioneering enterprise, and received sup-

port from such luminaries as George Whiteeld, the famed

Connecticut Revivalist, who donated a bell.

A decade after the school’s inauguration, Colonel More

died, leaving the institution without its primary benefactor.

Furthermore, interest in educating Indians was declining, as

consequence of the French and Indian War of the late 1750s.

Wheelock also proved unable to obtain a charter for the in-

stitution, either from the King or the Connecticut legislature.

Financial hardship, meanwhile, only increased in severity.

The Royal Charter and The Earl of Dartmouth

Wheelock sent his former pupil, Samson Occom, to

England in 1764. As a well-received novelty in England,

Wheelock was convinced the Indian minister would be suc-

cessful in raising funds. Wheelock’s inklings were conrmed

when, along with Nathaniel Whitaker, Occom collected ap-

proximately eleven thousand pounds. It was an impressive

gure for the time, especially given deteriorating relations

between England and the Colonies.

A number of prominent Englishmen contributed to Oc-

com’s cause. Among them was William Legge, Second Earl

of Dartmouth, and Secretary of State for the Colonies. He

was an admirer of George Whiteeld, and, by extension, of Wheelock and Occom. Becoming president of the London

Board for Moor’s School, he eventually secured a £200 gift

from the King.

John Wentworth, an American residing in England,

was also a key player in Dartmouth’s founding. Recently

appointed as Royal Governor of New Hampshire, he was

eager to have the school relocate from Connecticut. His

uncle, former Governor Benning Wentworth, had offered

Wheelock 500 acres of land, to which John added the grant

of an entire township. Wheelock accepted, and a new charter

was nalized in December 1769. Wheelock chose Hanover

as the school’s domicile shortly thereafter.

Wheelock and Occom parted ways in 1768, allegedly over

the expenditures of Occom’s family. It is also likely that Oc-

com anticipated the character of Wheelock’s

new college as one primarily for whites, giventhe failure of Moor’s Charity School. Occom’s

afliation with a cause he had served so well

had come to an end.

Wheelock originally intended to name

the college Wentworth, but the Governor

persuaded him to designate it Dartmouth,

to gain England’s favor. Ironically, The Earl

of Dartmouth, William Legge, lost interest

shortly thereafter. He considered Wheelock’s

new plan a perversion of the original.

The rst building was a temporary log hut

“without stone, brick, glass, or nails,” which

served as a classroom and dormitory. In 1770,

Wheelock constituted the college’s sole faculty

member. John W. Ripley, Bezaleel Woodward,

and John Smith joined him as tutors the fol-

lowing year. In 1771, Levi Frisbie, Samuel

Gray, Sylvanus Ripley, and John Wheelock all

became graduates of the College. Dartmouth

has produced a class every year since, the

only American college to do so, as the Revolution, the War

of 1812, and other skirmishes periodically disrupted studies

at other institutions.

Daniel Webster and The Supreme Court

Wheelock appointed his son, John Wheelock, to succeed

him upon the older Wheelock’s death in 1779. John was only

twenty-ve, and seemed insufciently qualied for the presi-

dential ofce. Hesitant to approve his posting, the trustees

eventually relented, due in part to Wheelock’s willingness to

serve without salary.

Eager to cultivate respect and support, the younger Whee-

lock proved too fervent in such attempts, alienating students

and the trustees. By 1809, Wheelock’s opposition took hold

of the board’s majority, and slowly converted a majority of

the professors to their point of view. Impeaching Wheelock

in 1815, the trustees elected Reverend Francis Brown as

successor.

Wheelock, having no desire to yield, convinced New

Hampshire’s Democrats to join him in his struggle against

the trustees, whom he accused of various offenses against the

College. New Hampshire Democrats, led by then-Governor

William Plumer, at rst condemned the Dartmouth charter

as one “emanating from royalty,” and one thus unsuitable for

a republic like the United States. In 1816, these Democrats

then, by means of the state legislature, changed the name of Dartmouth College to “Dartmouth University” (calling the

College a “University” has been a grave offence ever since),

increased the number of trustees from twelve to twenty- one,

and created a board of overseers with veto power over trustee

decisions. Dartmouth was effectively transformed from a

private college to a state university. The resulting controversy

would outlive Wheelock himself, who died in 1817.

Daniel Webster, a young Dartmouth graduate (Class of

1801) of growing repute, had been courted by both parties

to the dispute, to serve as legal counsel. Some of the college

community’s older members recalled Webster’s Dartmouth

arrival, in 1797. Webster was then dressed in homespun cloth-

ing, dyed by his mother, whose colors had bled upon contact

with rain. Such was the humble beginning of a future Senator

and Secretary of State.

Webster lodged his support behind the College’s origi-

nal trustees. He suggested they le suit against William H.

Woodward, former treasurer of Dartmouth, demanding

return of the charter, seal, records, and account books seized

by him. The trustees were defeated in the Superior Court of

New Hampshire, but had their grievances elevated to the

national scene. The trustees could appeal to the Supreme

Court, though their prospects in that body were uncertain.

Furthermore, additional funds were in need, as the college’sendowment at the time amounted to only $1,500. Webster, for

a fee of $1,000, agreed to represent the Board of Trustees of

the College in the Supreme Court’s chambers. He would argue

that New Hampshire’s actions, in impairing the “obligation

of contracts,” were unconstitutional.

Webster testied on March 10, 1818, in the case of

Woodward vs. the Board of Trustees, before Chief Justice John

Marshall and the U.S. Supreme Court. Webster’s four-hour

oration stands one of the most memorable in U.S history. At

the end of his argument, he famously concluded:

“This, sir, is my case. It is the case not merely of that

humble institution; it is the case of every college in our land.

… It is more. It is, in some sense, the case of every man who

has property of which he may be stripped,–for the question is

simply this: Shall our state legislature be allowed to take that

which is not their own, to turn it from its original use, and

apply it to such ends or purposes as they, in their discretion,

shall see t? …“Sir, you may destroy this little institution. It is weak.

It is in your hands! I know it is one of the lesser lights in

the literary horizon of the country. You may put it out. But

if you do so, you must carry through your work. You must

extinguish, one after another, all those great lights of science

which, for more than a century, have thrown their radiance

over our land.

“It is, Sir, as I have said, a small college, and yet, there

are those who love it....”

Webster’s lip quivered and his voice choked as he deliv-

ered the nal words. Justice Marshall’s eyes were reportedly

moist with tears. A decision was postponed for a year as some

of the justices pondered the case. During the interim, Webster,

aware of public sentiment’s inuence on court decisions,

circulated widely the printed copies of his argument.

In February of 1819, the Supreme Court ruled in favor of the Trustees and the College. Only one dissenting vote was

cast. In his magisterial opinion, Marshall remarked, “Perhaps

no judicial proceedings in this country ever involved more

important consequences.” Indeed, the case had extended na-

tional power at the expense of the state’s, conrmed the charter

right of all private colleges of the land, protected business

and non-prot organizations, and furthermore encouraged

their very establishment.

Webster’s lip quivered and his voice

choked as he delivered the nal words.Justice Marshall’s eyes were reportedly

moist with tears. A decision was postponed

for a year as some of the justices pondered

the case. During the interim, Webster, aware

of public sentiment’s inuence on court de-

cisions, circulated widely the printed copies

of his argument.

As a well-received novelty in England,

Wheelock was convinced the Indian

minister would be successful in raising

funds. Wheelock’s inklings were conrmed

when, along with Nathaniel Whitaker, Oc-

com collected approximately eleven thou-

sand pounds.

—Rev. Eleazar Wheelock—




example. His inaugural address demanded greater represen-

tation of the “creative loner” at Dartmouth, and of “students

who march to a different drummer….for whom a library is

dukedom large enough.” With these words, Freedman set out

to cultivate a student body that was a far cry from Dickey’s

ideal, substituting balance for lopsidedness. The raising of

SAT scores’ importance in admissions was one consequence

of Freedman’s quest. The East Wheelock Cluster, that glorious

den of failed social engineering, stands as another monumentto his efforts. In the end, Freedman’s legacy was one of the

supercial academic. This was best exemplied a few years

ago at commencement as a student speaker mentioned the

‘Greek’ poet Catallus. (See TDR 5/14/07)

James Wright, who recently retired, was most notable for

his efforts to abolish single-sex Greek houses and effectively

do away with the College’s Greek System. This proposal,

announced in 1999 as the Student Life Initiative, met erce

opposition from both students and alumni. This opposition

led the proposal to die away, unlikely to gure prominently

in the near future. Wright also faced controversy for scal

mismanagement, for presiding over a bloated bureaucracy,

and for ineffectively addressing overcrowded classes in certain

departments (notably Economics and Government).

Such were the grievances aired by four different petition

candidates, vying for spots on the Board of Trustees. T. J.Rodgers, Peter Robinson, Todd Zywicki, and Stephen Smith

by name, these petitioners bemoaned Dartmouth’s abandon-

ment of the ideals of breadth, well-roundedness, and balance.

Each of these petitioners was subsequently elected, Rodgers

in 2004, Robinson and Zywicki in 2005, and Smith in 2007

by alumni to the Board. Their signicant margin of victory

served as a repudiation of Wright’s tenure. Wright took no-

tice. In the last trustee election he threw the College’s whole

weight behind every candidate—except Smith, going so far

as to set up a new website designed solely to discredit Smith

and abusing his ofce by mass mailing the alumni body in

regards to the upcoming election. Long seen as more tactful

than his immediate predecessor, President Wright used his

power more openly late in his tenure, abolishing parity on

the Board of Trustees.

The Board of Trustees controversy was then overshad-

owed by the very brief tenure of President Jim Kim. The president was well known in international health circles for

his time at the World Health Organization and for co-founding

Partners in Health. He was a celebrity, but he never really

connected with Dartmouth. Unlike President Wright, he was

an absentee president and rarely seen walking on the Green

or interacting with students. When a urry of scandals hit,

President Kim was quick to jump ship to the World Bank,

leaving behind a Dartmouth saddled with sexual assault,

a new center for Health Care Delivery Sciences, and even

more debt. To resolve this, President Hanlon was brought in

to serve as a steady and devoted hand on the tiller. A func-

tion only an alum could serve.The fate of Dartmouth, that

enduring institution, has not only been engineered from the

past. Rather, it is also being shaped in the present, by all who

attend or associate with her. n.

The Wheelock Succession

—John Kemeny and some of his friends.—

—Bartlett Tower and the remains of the Old Pine.—

Wheelock’s Early Successors

Webster’s ery orations brought renewed calm to Hanover.

The College, its very character once endangered, entered

into a period of normalcy. A pair of short, inconsequential

presidencies was followed by Nathan Lord’s ascension to

the Presidency. Serving for 35 consecutive years, Lord ex-

panded enrollment, in addition to constructing Thornton and

Wentworth, the buildings anking Dartmouth Hall. Lord’sopen endorsement of slavery, however, provoked a rising tide

against him. In 1863, faced with the prospect of removal,

Lord opted to resign his ofce. Rev. Asa Dodge Smith was

appointed as replacement. The College’s previous annexation

of the Chandler Scientic School (America’s rst special-

ized scientic institution) was complemented, under Smith’s

mantle, by the creation of the Thayer School of Engineering.

This period was also marked by the establishment, in Hanover,

of an agricultural college. Wallowing away for twenty years

south of East Wheelock Street, the institution subsequently

relocated to Durham, later becoming the University of New

Hampshire. Asa Dodge Smith’s successor, Samuel Bartlett,

established a pattern frequently imitated by administrators to

follow. Alienating legions of faculty, students, and alumni,

Bartlett found his position in serious jeopardy. Unlike future

leaders, however, Bartlett also possessed a magical touch,

almost seamlessly repairing the rifts he had sown. His crit-

ics were left speechless. Serving until 1893, Bartlett would

oversee Rollins Chapel’s construction, in addition to pushing

the endowment past the million dollar mark.

Safeguarding Dartmouth’s continued survival, in the face

of unforgiving wilderness, was the great triumph of early col-

lege leaders. Yet, succeeding leaders would facilitate equally

lofty achievements. Under their guidance, Dartmouth wouldnot merely endure, but rise to the very pinnacle of education

in the New World.

The 20th Century

It was throughout the early 20th century, when stakes

were highest, that the greatest of Dartmouth presidents came

to power. The College, at that juncture, constituted little more

than a nishing school. Its student body numbered 300, with

serious scholarship in short supply, and facilities antiquated.

While contemporaries fared little better, Dartmouth’s leaders

understood the direction the future necessitated. Assuming

the presidential ofce in 1893, William Jewett Tucker was the

rst seeking to bring Dartmouth into “the modern era.” His

storied accomplishments included an overhaul of the physical

campus. Construction of over 20 buildings was undertaken,

and the steam plant was erected. Wood stoves on campus thus

became relics of the past. The curriculum also was targeted

for change, as it was “broadened” and somewhat secularized.

The student body’s size expanded to 1,100. Tucker, like his

contemporary Charles Eliot at Harvard, was a persistent

advocate for progress in American education. He wished for

America’s academic institutions, particularly Dartmouth, to

bet the country’s greatness.

In 1909, Ernest Fox Nichols entered the presidency in

Tucker’s stead. The rst since John Wheelock not to belong

to the clergy, Nichols affected further secularization atDartmouth. His tenure was also notable for the founding of

the Dartmouth Outing Club and Winter Carnival. In particular,

The Carnival became the stuff of lore, often termed “Mardi

Gras of the North.” The setting of a 1939 motion picture and

the scene of countless depravities, it also served host to a

drunken F. Scott Fitzgerald. 1916 saw Ernest Martin Hopkins

appointed as president. In addition to developing the physical

plant, Hopkins introduced selective admissions in the early

1920s.

After almost 30 years at the helm, Ernest Hopkins was

succeeded by John Sloan Dickey. Though previously an at-

torney and high ranking State Department ofcial, Dickey

was a man of breadth, to be found not only in Parkhurst, but

also in full exertion among New Hampshire’s wilderness.

He sought to hone the mind, body, and spirit, and made the

same demands of every Dartmouth student. Under his watch,the ideal of the Dartmouth Man, as a well-formed, balanced,

and vigorous being, reached its fruition. Dickey furthermore

wished the Dartmouth man to be outward gazing, and cognizant

of the world at large. In this vein, Dickey strived to develop

a curriculum international in scope, establishing numerous

foreign study programs. As Dickey told a Dartmouth audience,

while the horrors of the Second World War were still fresh

in memory, “The world’s problems are your problems…and

there is nothing wrong with the world that better human beings

cannot x.” When Dickey departed from Dartmouth in 1970,

his was a towering shadow. He left Dartmouth the strongest

it ever was. Dickey instilled great love among Dartmouth

alumni for their alma mater. Almost 70% gave funds to the

College in any given year of his tenure, a percentage since

unequaled.

Replacing Dickey as Dartmouth president was John Ke-meny. Co-creator of the BASIC computer language, Kemeny

brought technology to the forefront of the College, as well

as gave students access to it. Now, he would preside over

co-education’s controversial beginning, with 1972 marking

the rst year of female admittance. To meet the needs of this

expansion of the student body, Kemeny instituted the D-Plan,

a year-round schedule of operations existing to this day. It was,

in the words of some, a means by which to t 4000 students

into 3000 beds. Yet, even into the 1980s, men lled as many

as 80% of those beds.

The Modern Era

David T. McLaughlin succeeded Kemeny and was himself

followed by James O. Freedman. These fellows were rooted

at opposite poles of the spectrum. McLaughlin, a business-

man by occupation, proved unable to adapt to the world of

the academy, and eventually tendered his resignation. Freed-

man, meanwhile, was an academic, xated only on the life

of the mind, and wishing others at Dartmouth to follow his

Alienating legions of faculty, students,

and alumni, Bartlett found his position

in serious jeopardy. Unlike future leaders,

however, Bartlett also possessed a magicaltouch, almost seamlessly repairing the rifts

he had sown. His critics were left speechless.

Though previously an attorney and high

ranking State Department official,Dickey. Dickey was a man of breadth, to

be found not only in Parkhurst, but also in

full exertion among New Hampshire’s wil-

derness. He sought to hone the mind, body,

and spirit, and made the same demands of

every Dartmouth student.

To meet the needs of this expansion of

the student body, Kemeny instituted the

D-Plan, a year round schedule of operations

existing to this day. It was, in the words of

some, a means by which to t 4000 students

into 3000 beds.




By P.C. History

Dear Sir,

Allow me to begin by stating that I can remember well

enough, for a man of my advanced years and subtler inclina-

tions of the heart. I recall much joy from my undergraduate

days, 1886 to 1890, accounting for my victory lap (as I prefer to see it). Yes, my memory is as sharp as the pain I still feel

for the loss of the Old Pine all those years ago.

Which brings me to my point: even back then we had

bonres, although we didn’t have no laffy-daffy lamebrains

legging it forward to touch the ames. I do not believe we

had a single man run the re in my day. But there was one

character--this was in autumn of 1888--a fat guts, cream-faced

loon.

I will not forget this man until the day I die, which by

my reckoning should be near enough. He was a godforsaken

out-of-town journalist. A real man about town.

A man of notions. Full of them.

He came to learn of our ways, no doubt he had heard tales.

He was a Harvard man at a time when that precise fact was

held against you in a town like Hanover. We detested civil-

ity, hated all things prim and proper. We were Vikings of thestill and silent north, not candymen from foppish Cambridge

town.

And this fellow, this detestable fellow--no man of the

cloth though he stunk of false piety--he came with his jotter

notebook and his ideas. Pre-established ideas. All he needed

was the scratch and of course in those days there was plenty.

Though not a single man dared touch the sacred ame,

week’s end held plenty of old-fashioned chicanery. The sort

your father taught you when mummy was in the other room

having a stern word with the help for bringing out the potted

shrimp too warm. We’d get a man well into the bottle and

then tell him his lady had eyes for another beau. Half thetime it was true. If a slumgullion left for the weekend we’d

nd a muskrat from the river and lock the room. These were

honest pranks, the sort boys play for sport, but to a Harvard

man they were evidence of the savagery of our dear mother

Dartmouth. Well I’m a man who likes his whiskey neat and

I’ll say this: the Harvard man drank only grenadine and that

told me all I needed to know. Once he got chummy with me

and I saw right through the deceit, gave him the old one-

two. Never trust a man who won’t take a drink after supper,

I always say. My father taught me that.

Regardless, I knew all too well that this Harvard man was

after what they called--in those days--”the scoop.” I wasn’t

going to be the nonce who gave him one.

But I would give him something else. I had the DKE

boys behind me. Nothing like a room full of itching DKEs

with revenging and no-goodery on the brain. The boys and Ilocuted late into the evening over a bottle of rust red rotgut,

and when the morning came we had our plan laid out before

us. We left the DKE lodge at rst light.

I believe it was Shakespeare who wrote, “While seeking

revenge, dig two graves.” I couldn’t agree more with old Bill,

better safe than sorry. To be sure, we dug three. Not that we

needed them for slime like that.

We reached the Hanover Inn, where this dandy was ru-

mored to be spending the night. Sure enough we found him

in the rst-oor drawing room, snoring over a bowl of peas

and pudding.

“Rise sir,” said my compatriot Bingham, although to

this day I do not know why we afforded him the courtesy. It

was only seconds later that Moon Hands dumped a load of commode water all over him. That got him going.

“Arise,” I said, stepping forth. “Arise, for we intend

to make worms meat of Ye!” Of course I have always been

prone to histrionics, and I’ll be damned if they did not slide

through the crimson fool like a hot knife through lard. He was

on his feet before the commode water had seeped through his

undergarments.

“March,” said Bingham, always a man of few words.

Crimson obeyed without uttering a single protestation, and

we marched him to the river, whereupon we stopped.

“Sic semper journalis,” I frowned at the petty man.“I’ll

be having that notebook now,” said Moon Hands.

At long last the crimson fool seemed to offer up some

resistance, straightening his back and holding shut his sleep

shirt. I presumed the notebook was within. “Makes no dif-

ference to me,” I shrugged. “Neither to me,” said Binghamwith a push, “And neither to the swift Connecticut.”

The sound of the crimson journalist hitting the water was

that of eggs dropping into a boiling pot.

I believe my point has been clearly obfuscated, and I do

not hold with insincere conclusions.

Expect a silver dollar by post,

P.C. History, Class of 1890 n

By JP Harrington

Over the past three years at Dartmouth, I have noticed how

campus has slowly torn further and further apart, fracturing

into smaller and smaller sub-groups. Unfortunately, each of

these sub-groups feels oppressed by all of the others. Each

tiny part of campus feels as if they lack control over their own

destiny. As if everyone is out to get them. In some cases, it’s

more justied than others. But let’s not dwell on who’s right

or wrong. The problem isn’t our small internal squabbles asa student body, but rather that we’ve allowed these divisions

to persist and expand over the years at Dartmouth.

Yet, it seems to me that there are several simple solutions

that could easily bridge these gaps in our student body while

also reinstilling certain core values to Dartmouth College.

First of all, there is a large gap in socioeconomic class

at Dartmouth College. On the one hand, it’s good to bring

different experiences from different cultures or economic

classes into the classrooms, locker rooms and dorm rooms.

On the other, it can lead to a certain group of the student body

behaving in a snobbish or privileged manner. I still remember

to this day, walking out of my freshman dorm room and being

confronted by an irate custodian. She was more than justied

in her anger. She’d just had to carry a trashbag full of human

urine down four ights of stairs, praying it wouldn’t burst.

The only pride I can take from that situation is that I knownone of it was mine.

But I was deeply pained that our students would behave

in such an absurdly disrespectful manner. At least fraternity

members have to clean up their own bodily waste (and guests’

too I might add). This privileged attitude has many other ex-

amples from vomiting in public bathrooms to other situations

not involving bodily luids. In fact, you can almost be assured

that some opinion article in The Daily Dartmouth will lament

this issue, but without any possible solutions other than the

long awaited required class on privilege and other such top-

ics. Unfortunately, I don’t think that attempting to brainwash

people into behaving nicely to one another will work. After

all, aren’t many liberal high schools attempting the exact

same thing with similar classes? Has that been productive?

Given our student body, I would say not. In fact, it tends to

instill rebellion instead of camraderie.So, how do we resolve this privileged behavior while also

building unity among students? I think it’s quite simple. We

just have to realize that forced interaction and teambuilding

activities are typically the only way to break down class and

cultural barriers in order to forge unity. Typical case studies

would include the military or team sports. So, how do we take

all of Dartmouth students, force them to randomly interact with

each other, and have coordinated

team goals? Sounds difcult, but

I think there is a simple solution.

There should be a require-

ment that each student work aminimum of ten hours per week

in a janitorial or administrative

role. The roles would be randomly

assigned in order to promote mixing and class unity. As many

hours as possible should be devoted to janitorial or similarly

manual labors in order to force all students to be stakeholders

in the physical well-being of the campus. At the same time,

it would force students to be equal in some respects and to

build mutual understanding and respect. It’s a lot harder to

look down at someone when both of you have spent hours

scrubbing toilets together. It’s also a lot easier to call someone

out for vomiting everywhere if you know the person who has

to clean it up tomorrow.

Despite unity and such, this would also have a second

impact upon campus culture. It would turn every student

into stakeholders in tuition increases. By laboring for their

tuition, they would all become aware of how money is spent

on this campus and where. This would not only increase the

dialogue about spending at Dartmouth, but also raise the

standard of dialogue. Instead of rants about unionized staff

without numbers or defending innumerable administrative

positions, we would perhaps see reasoned dialogue about

certain departments with facts and gures. Eventually, this

might translate into legitimate cost-cutting action.

Now that we’ve dealt with class and cultural differences,

let’s move on to general community issues. Of course, I’m

being facetious, I think that the job requirement is just the

beginning of building a Dartmouth that everyone feels a part

of, if that’s even possible. But, it’s a start to lling people’s

schedules and building connections that cross between

sub-cultures such as fraternities, clubs or other means of

self-segregation. But, sadly, there are less and less places

that students can congregate outside of the fraternities or

classrooms. This is particularly true for upperclassmen who

even lack residential communities like freshmen oors.

In particular, I’ve noticed that the new DDS SmartChoice

disaster of a plan has accentuated these differences. I have

also noticed through various blitzlists that I’m associated with,

that students no longer use the dining halls in the same way as

we used to. Whereas I fondly remember meeting at FoCo for

long dinners and chats or even late

lunches, it seems that now students

are far more focused on evading

the meal plan than joining other

people at the dining halls. It wasa place to celebrate community

and easily get together or join up

with another larger group.

Now, however I only see blitzes about eating downtown or

in another city or even just driving to get food from a nearby

fast food restaurant as opposed to eating in FoCo. At least

50% of my fraternity eats most of their meals from Novack,

which can neither be healthy nor tasty, but it’s better than FoCo

sadly enough. All it takes is a few cases of food poisoning

before people begin to use their meal swipes elsewhere. FoCo

is essentially a barren wasteland lled with a few athletes

and a co-opted throng of freshmen. If you wander past any

table of Dartmouth students at a meal, the preferred topic of

conversation will be how to get off of the meal plan and its

stringent requirements.

If the Dartmouth administration wants to truly rebuild

unity at Dartmouth, they should consider revamping the

SmartChoice plan in order to encourage people to use FoCo

and other venues as meeting spaces. When all-you-can-eat was

announced, the entire campus shouted that FoCo would die

as a social space. And it has. Instead of attempting to foster

alternative social spaces that never match student demand

and are rarely used (such as Sarner Underground - which few

even know exists), the administration should just revitalize

the social spaces they killed by accident. And it would also

have the benet of revitalizing FoCo to a system that didn’t

produce massive waste and poor quality food.

I think that these two simple steps are just that: simple

steps towards a very difcult goal, but by enforcing required

interaction and fostering spaces that allow random, self-created

interaction, the administration could seriously improve the

Dartmouth experience for everyone while also enriching

many people’s lives.

And, we might even nally get to cut some administrative

fat at the College. So, really it’s great all around. n

Mr. History is a distinguished alumnus of the College and a

contributor to The Dartmouth Review.

Mr. Harrington is a senior at the College and Editor-in-Chief

of The Dartmouth Review.

A Letter on Dealing with Journalists

Rebuilding Dartmouth Unity

R equire each student to work a

minimum of ten hours per week in

a janitorial or administrative role. Theroles would be randomly assigned in

order to promote mixing and class unity.




By Kush S. Desai

“Number of days until frat[s open],” announces a mini

whiteboard in a hallway of Russell Sage. This cheap, printer-

paper sized whiteboard was initially distributed to ‘17s during

an activities fair on the rst day of orientation. But ever since

moving in on campus, the ‘17s have anxiously been

awaiting the day that they too would be allowed to

carry on the ne tradition of loitering in the steamy,

Keystone odorous fraternity basements during “on”nights. Instead, for the past ve weeks since orientation

began, freshmen – holding true to Einstein’s “Necessity

is the mother of all invention” adage – have sought out

a number of creative ways to recreate all of the social

advantages offered by a vibrant and inclusive Greek

scene. And to that end, never have there been better

examples of the perseverance of College students.

On one particularly auspicious Wednesday eve-

ning, the ever so quaint folk of Russell Sage invited,

without precedent, a Boston stripper for a very lucky

birthday girl. Rivaling any and all previous – and

perhaps even future – “ragers” that have made Rus-

sell Sage endearingly nicknamed “Sussell Rage,” the

stripper’s show was attended by about thirty ‘17s.

Another few dozen students crowded outside the

cramped room hoping for a peek at the show. A partyattendee described the affair as “like a bachelorette

party… it was just between him [the stripper] and

her [the birthday girl].” And this entertainer was no

buxom blonde bella either; according to an attendee,

the stripper “looked like he was past his prime” with

a “5’7’’, hairy” physique, and a generally muscular

build complemented by a “beer belly.”

What’s interesting is that this was a group effort

– two organizers put together about $200 for the night

through their own generous contributions and through

a pool to which many others contributed one to two dollars

each. College students routinely partake in a litany of licentious

leisure activities, but strippers – especially male strippers – are

a relatively expensive and rare exploit. The student audience

was composed of “just average Dartmouth students,” a wit-

ness described, “not drinking everyday types… if we could

go to frats this denitely wouldn’t have happened.”

Strippers aside, the ‘17s have done well to carry on an-

other, more common Dartmouth tradition: drinking. As the

College deals with increasing scrutiny regarding underage

binge drinking on campus, administration ofcials hoped

that the freshman fraternity ban would limit binge drinking

and allow students to familiarize themselves in new social

settings and learn to drink in moderation. But instead, the

new policy seems to have shifted drinking away from public

fraternity basements into private rooms. Freshmen have been

using upperclassmen friends and siblings as well as fake ID

cards to procure – in accordance to yet another Dartmouth

tradition – boxes of Keystone beers and inexpensive vodkas.

Other students without fake IDs or connections usually scout

from building to building (namely Bissell in the Choates cluster

and Russell Sage) in search of parties and a good time.

One ’17, who asked to withhold his name, took a drastic

yet innovative step. He (legally) purchased lemon extract,

which can have an alcohol content ranging anywhere from

80-160 proof, and mixed it with Gatorade. “It’s something

to resort to just in case of an emergency when we really

can’t nd any alcohol,” he explained, “[since] nothing’s

[functionally] different about it as alcohol.” The fact that

this user and his friends must “resort” to improvisingtheir own alcohol gives special credence to the notion

that college students simply aren’t going to change their

ways due to a fraternity ban. This lemon extract chemist

reported using it “about four times over the past four

weeks” alone. At least on the plus side to this highly

experimental substitute alcohol, Gatorade-lemon extract

cocktails reportedly give the drinker a minty fresh breath.

Regardless of how alcohol is being procured (or cre-

ated) by the ‘17s, it’s still being consumed in dangerous

amounts. No ofcial data sets has yet been released by

the administration that could uphold this, but anecdotal

evidence holds up. Freshmen representing most fresh-

man oors have awoken at Dick’s House after being

Good Sammed; scores more have engaged in danger-

ous drinking before returning to their rooms with little

responsible supervision to ensure nothing went awry.

The administration stated recently that the number of

Good Sams for freshmen are constant with last year.

The administration intended for freshman to have

some time to refrain from drinking and better under-

stand social dynamics in college. But the real result is

the forcing of freshmen to drink and party completely

unregulated in the privacy of their rooms. One ’17

remarked that “the organization and structure” of frater-

nities will help improve the issue. “They can kick you

out and send you home when you’ve had enough… if you’re

already home, there’s no cap,” he explained. The freshman

frat ban just may have created a solidly close-knit freshman

class, but it has certainly not created one free of alcoholism.

The question now remains of how the ‘17s will be able

to handle a sudden opening of fraternity basements and all of

the free alcohol– the true result will only become clear once

the whiteboard in Russell Sage reads ‘0 n Mr. Desai is a freshman at the College and a contributor to

The Dartmouth Review.

Freshmen Count Down Days to Frats

Write For

The

DartmouthReview

Home of scintillating journalism

and snarky wit.

6:30 PM Mondays

Free Beer & Pizza

Meetings at 32 S. MainStreet

Next to Lou’sUnder Lang McLaughry

Spera

—The infamous whiteboard that freshmen continually update as time passes

by. These and other signs have led to fraternities lecturing members on

the risks of the coming ood of freshmen students into their basements—




Dartmouth Night: A HistoryBy Joseph Rago

The following is an article by a former Editor-in-Chief

of The Dartmouth Review and winner of the Pulitzer Prize

for his coverage of the Affordable Care Act.

Friday is Dartmouth Night, an evening of tradition im-

pressive even by Dartmouth College standards. It kicks off

the traditional Homecoming weekend with an evening of

speeches, a parade, and of course, the famous bonre. For over one-hundred years, Dartmouth students, alumni, and—

ahem—administrators have reveled in the camaraderie, good

cheer, and College spirit. For instance, Douglas Vanderhoof

1901 wrote home to his parents during his freshman year,

“This is one of the best nights for years… & of course great

enthusiasm was aroused.” Though much has changed since

then, the classic spirit of the legendary re remains.

The origins of the Dartmouth Night re trace back over a

century. In 1888, students from all four classes built a bonre

of cordwood from the forests around the college to celebrate

a baseball victory over Manchester, 34-0. An editorial in the

Daily Dartmouth criticized the re, saying “It disturbed the

slumbers of a peaceful town, destroyed some property, made

the boys feel that they were being men, and in fact did no

one any good.” Nevertheless, the idea remained popular and

the bonres continued informally, both before athletic eventsand in celebration of their victories. These bonres frequently

included an outhouse as part of the fuel for the re. Five years

later, the College ofcially recognized the res.

Seven years after the res began, President William

Jewett Tucker introduced the ceremony of Dartmouth Night.

On September 20, 1895, the rst Dartmouth Night was held

to celebrate the accomplishments of the alumni of the Col-

lege and, in Tucker’s words, “to promote class spirit and…

initiate freshmen into the community.” The Daily Dartmouth

described it as an event where students were “addressed by

representative alumni who illustrate the success and abil-

ity of Dartmouth graduates.” However, less formal sources

relate that the evening tended to be composed of torturously

long speeches. Fortunately, over time, the speeches came to

compose a smaller part of the ceremony and other events

became more prominent.

Dartmouth Night became part of President Tucker’s

self-conscious effort to strengthen and deepen what he called

the “Dartmouth Spirit.” Or, as he put it another time, it was

a way to “capitalize the history of the College.” In 1901, for

example, the evening celebrated the hundredth anniversary

of the graduation of Daniel Webster (students were dressed

in eighteenth-century costume). At Dartmouth Night in 1896,

Richard Hovey’s “Men of Dartmouth’ was elected as the best

of all the songs of the College.

Probably the most famous Dartmouth Night occurred

almost exactly a century ago, as William Heneage Legge,

the Sixth Earl of Dartmouth and direct descendent of the

British noble who provided most of the original capital for

the College, visited the campus. The occasion was both dire

and celebratory. In February, the old wood-post Dartmouth

Hall had burned to the ground in a matter of minutes. The

Earl was here to lay the cornerstone for the modern recreation

that stands on the same ground today.

Thousands of alumni came to town for the event, gath-

ering underneath a huge electric arch over the length of the

Dartmouth Hall site, making brilliant the words, “1791—

Dartmouth—1904.” The Earl rose and said, “President

Tucker is the head of the family of Dartmouth on this side of

the water, as I am of the one on the other side. His family is

larger than mine, but I do not believe that I envy him in this

respect.” He continued. “I do believe, however, that his hope

and ambition for his family are identical with mine, that the

sons of Dartmouth, whether they be many or few, may be

God-fearing men and an honor to the name they bear.”

Royal Parkinson 1905, an undergraduate at the time, remem-

bered, “When that came from his heart as you could see that it

did, and as it must have since he was called on unexpectedly, old

alumni and guests on the platform jumped up and waved their

hats and an alumnus called for a cheer for Lord Dartmouth. We

almost had tears in our eyes but we gave the two loudest cheers

that ever shook the walls of a building. After that the cornerstonewas a small part of the occasion.”

The Earl’s visit on Dartmouth Night was, as a matter of

course, celebrated with an enormous bonre, but the students

were not content with the traditional re alone.

In order to make a vivid impression on the visiting Earl

and his companion, the young Winston Churchill, the students

formed a parade. The Earl took up the lead, and the students,

dressed in their pajamas, marched around the Green. The

traditional herding of the freshmen around the bonre was

inaugurated.

In 1907, the orations were moved from their original

home in the chapel of Dartmouth Hall to the newly-completed

Webster Hall. The celebration continued to be a big event for

alumni. Alumni groups from all over the nation converged

on Hanover for the festivities. For those who were unable

to attend in person, radio links were established to let clubsall over the nation listen to the speeches and revelry, and it

was popular for the clubs to send telegrams to Hanover for

reading at the ceremonies.

Football rst began to be associated with Dartmouth

Night in the early 1920s. Memorial Field was dedicated on

Dartmouth Night in 1923. The raucous pre-football rallies,

though, remained quite separate from the somber ofcial

activities. In 1936, the College rst began the tradition of Homecoming games.

Football, though, had always been an integral part of the

Dartmouth experience. Professor Edwin J. Bartlett 1872 remem-

bered in his little volume A Dartmouth Book of Remembrance:

Pen Sketches of Hanover and the College Before the Centen-

nial and After (1922), “Football was simplicity itself. You ran

all over the campus, and when and if you got the chance, you

kicked a round rubber ball. You might run all the afternoon and

not get your toe upon the ball, but you could not deny that you

had had a fair chance, and the exercise was yours and could

be valued by the number of hot rolls consumed at the evening

meal.”

Bartlett was clear on the value of football, “It was glorious

for exercise, and had enough excitement to make it highly

interesting. It gave ample opportunity for competitions in

speed, nesse, dodging, endurance, and occasional personal

collisions.” However, not all agreed: “For a year the faculty

in its inscrutable wisdom debarred this highly useful game

because of abuses, as they thought, in the manner of play-

ing it.” Bartlett was a member of the student committee that

successfully petitioned the faculty to reinstate football at the

College.

And like all of Dartmouth’s big weekends, Homecom-

ing became in many ways an excuse to import women to the

College. In the days before coeducation, when Hanover wasfar more of an outpost than it is today, Homecoming was one

of the rst times that women from area female colleges like

Smith, Wellesley, etc., would be bused onto campus.

During World War II, the celebrations were scaled down

markedly. In 1943, President Ernest Hopkins presided over

only a small gathering in Thayer Hall. However, following

World War II, Dartmouth Night enjoyed a resurgence of

popularity.

In 1946, the formal College events and the unofcial rally

were combined in a single grand event, and for the rst time

the festivities were intentionally scheduled on the weekend of

Homecoming. In the 1950s, the current hexagonal construc-

tion of railroad ties was rst used. Since then, the weekend

has undergone a number of changes, but its unique essence

remains.

Often, the tradition has been interrupted or sullied bymischief, violence, or act of God. In 1954, the bonre was

canceled due to an impending hurricane, and in 1963, a drought

raised concerns about a major re, which led to the cancellation

of the bonre. From 1969 to 1972, campus political sentiment

was such that there was no ofcial celebration of Dartmouth

Night. In 1976, student radicals lit the bonre prematurely,

as it was under construction, for political reasons. In 1987, a

dissident group calling itself ‘Womyn to Overthrow Dartmyth’and the ‘Wimmin’s International Terrorist Conspiracy from

Hell’ dressed as witches and threw eggs at the podium during

the addresses. In 1992, and again in 1997, the freshmen sweep

degenerated into full-scale rioting, with downtown Hanover

laid to waste.

Such a disaster seems unlikely this year, as Dartmouth’s

administration has prepared extensive risk management

procedures that will ensure that the night goes off without a

hitch. Still, as Prof. Bartlett wrote, the College “shall always

have the misdeeds of excitement; deliberate invention and

perpetration of mischief have nearly died out from the more

advanced colleges.”

Despite change, Dartmouth Night and the ensuing games of

Homecoming weekend still provide the ideal opportunities for

all members of the College community to show their dedication

to Dartmouth, lest the old traditions fail. n

Mr. Rago is a member of the class of 2005 and Editor

Emeritus of The Dartmouth Review.

Photographs courtesy of the Dartmouth College Library.

— President Tucker and the Sixth Earl of Dartmouth lay the cornerstone for the new Dartmouth Hall in 1904.

The bonfre is now constructed and lit every year beneath Dartmouth Hall’s gaze —




Dartmouth Night: A Day in the Life

Mr. Beard is an alumnus of the College and former

Editor-in-Chief of The Dartmouth Review.

By Sterling C. Beard

We present the following description of Homecoming

weekends in the recent past so that freshmen may know how

much the College has changed in just a few short years.

While originally addressed to the Class of 2013 (truly the

Worst Class Ever for their inability to either touch the re

or rush the eld), this article provides a quick glimpse at the

bonres of just yesteryear. While those weekends were verydifferent from those of yore, they were still harsher and more

traditional than the current incarnations.

Dartmouth changes from year to year as it is dened

by the ever-changing student body. We at The Dartmouth

Review nd this article to be a wonderful reminder of how

the student body has shifted the tone and impact of a weekend

in less than one generation.

Ah, homecoming, the time when the sons and daughters

of Dartmouth descend en masse upon the College on the Hill

to relive old times and renew old friendships. Alumni know

the drill. For freshmen, however, it’s one giant carnival of

sound, music, and wild fun. This year the class of 2013 will

run around the bonre one-hundred and thirteen times. I’d like

to take this opportunity to pass on some of my homecoming

experiences to the freshmen—so listen up, ‘13s, this article

is for your benet.Before the freshmen sweep passed East Wheelock, I

descended from Andres 302-C towards Brace Commons clad

in classic attire for the occasion: jeans, tennis shoes and my

class jersey emblazoned with the oversized “Dartmouth 12”

on the front. East Wheelock has long had the reputation of

being the quiet dorm cluster populated by nerdy, introverted

types, but that certainly wasn’t the case that night. Music was

pounding everything from old Backstreet Boys hits to much

more modern tunes (if memory serves, “Soulja Boy” was

played at least once), the lighting was turned down low and

dozens if not hundreds of pea green freshmen were gyrating

wildly around and having a blast. If you didn’t want to stand

out in this crowd, you had to afx a number of temporary

tattoos to your body, fasten a ludicrous number of green glow

sticks around an appendage of your choice and then dance

like a fool.

So I did; one pair of glow sticks made a loop around my

neck and another bundle was snapped together and wrapped

around my right forearm like some sort of brace. I had “Class

of ‘12” temporary tattoos on the backs of both my hands and

on my scruffy right cheek. I was ready for anything, or so I

thought.

It wasn’t too long before the world’s biggest ‘shmob

marched by outside and collected us. As the horde of fresh-

men oozed towards the Green, my roommate and I broke

off from the main group and joined the glee club in front of

Dartmouth Hall, which gave us the best view of the Green.

When I said that Dartmouth alumni descend en masse,

I wasn’t kidding. Thousands of people from every graduat-

ing class for decades stood shoulder to shoulder in front of

Dartmouth Hall. The marching band made their way into

the near-corner of the Green and after a few short speeches,

including one from then President Jim Wright, Louis Burkot,

the glee club director, took his position in front of us. We

sang two Dartmouth classics, the alma mater and “Son of a

Gun,” two of the oldest Dartmouth songs. To all you freshmen

reading this, I hope you enjoy the smell of Keystone.

Then we were all but shoved downhill through the crowd

of people and back into the mob surrounding the wooden

bonre. The bonre was lit and it didn’t take long for the

ames to begin devouring the towering structure. It was time

to run.

My aforementioned roommate, an engineering major,

had taken the time to estimate the distance of the run we

were to take that night: nine miles, quite a distance for people

who weren’t in shape. I wasn’t too concerned. I had played

football in high school and had withstood some conditioning

in my time. How bad could a leisurely jog around a bonre

surrounded by my fellow classmates be? I’d just set an easy

pace and keep at it until I had completed all one-hundred and

twelve laps. I was going to complete this thing with ease and

style to show my less fortitudinous classmates how it was

done.

I should have known better. As Colin Powell once said,

“No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.” Unfor-

tunately for myself that night, I was my own worst enemy

because I’d failed to take into account several things.

First, the diameter of the circled-off area was 50 yards,

which meant that the freshmen had to run around 150 yards per lap. On the face of things that may seem like plenty of

room, but in practice it’s rather difcult to squeeze a thousand

hyped up freshmen into an area that small, so the rst seven

laps or so took some time to complete and resembled less a

marathon than a cattle roundup. Second was the rather obvi-

ous fact that the gigantic bonre was hot, even from a good

distance away; the towering inferno was enough to remind

one of the Biblical story of the Israelites as they were led out

of Egypt by the pillar of ame at night, but this particular

pillar of ame was the god of NASCAR and we only made

left turns on a small track.

My nal mistake was my attire. The night was cold and

the combination of continuously running with my left side

facing the re and my right side exposed to the cold night air

meant that it felt like I was getting sunburned while freezing.

On balance, however, my jeans meant I’d dressed too warmly.The biggest problem with my clothing, however, was that I

was running nine miles and not wearing athletic gear. I’d have

been in much better shape had I been wearing mesh shorts and

a jock instead of my jeans—at least I wouldn’t have chafed

like mad. As you can imagine, all of these things made my

progress rather slow, especially later on.

Of course, in a throwback to Dartmouth’s old school

sanctioned hazing, upperclassmen encircled the freshmen

and made grabs at the glow sticks while screaming various

epithets and commands.

“Hey, twelves, you guys are the worst class ever!”

“You suck!”

And other variegated insults not t for publication.

And of course, that perennial favorite, “freshmen, touch

the re!” was yelled incessantly.

The pack began to thin as some fellow ‘12s made up

excuses to leave like, “hey, two plus zero plus one plus

two is ve, so I’ll just run that many laps!” Others ran only

twelve laps. Some ran thirty-two. More still gave up when

they got bored, regardless of what lap they were on. I pushed

on, determined that my jogging partner and I would be two

of the few crazies who ran all one hundred and twelve and

reasoning that we would never forgive ourselves if we didn’t.

As the night wore on and my jeans wore on my legs,

the re began to die down a little bit. The ring of S&S of -

cers tightened up and upperclassmen crowded the freshmen

towards the bonre. The effect was twofold. The number of

freshmen running had dropped considerably so that only a

few score were still going and that meant that it was easier to

move around the re in a tighter circle without bashing into

my fellow classmen. Regrettably the closer proximity to the

burned down re—which by the end of the run was merely

a pile of embers—meant that I had to contend with rather

thick smoke. I also wasn’t as physically t as I thought. I was

still making it around the bonre at a steady pace but I was

regularly lapped by those who had run cross country before

coming to Hanover.

Finally, I was done. I checked the Baker-Berry tower

clock. All one-hundred and twelve laps

had taken about an hour and forty minutes.

I’d managed to neither pull a groin muscle

nor singe my eyebrows off. What did I earn

for my trouble? Well, I and fourteen others

joined a Facebook group titled “I ran all 112

laps at Homecoming ’08,” and I had to walk

tenderly for a few days afterward. Those were unimportant,

though. What was important was that under our watch the

old tradition had not failed.

So now it falls to you ‘13s. In the words of the alma

mater, “dare a deed for the old mother,” and complete all the

laps. Ingrain yourself in the proud, long-running tradition.

You won’t regret it. n

—Debauchery in East Wheelock: Tattoos and Rock-n-Roll—

T ouch The F ire

—Last year’s bonfre—

Of course, in a throwback to Dartmouth’s old school

sanctioned hazing, upperclassmen encircled the

freshmen and made grabs at the glow sticks while scream-

ing various epithets and commands.

The bonre was lit and it didn’t take long

for the ames to begin devouring the

towering structure. It was time to run.




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It’s the rst night of male rush and brothers are handing out bingo cards scrawled with typical phrases from past deliberations.Sample squares include “really nice guy,” “plays a lot of pong,”and “super-chill.” Perhaps one brother has earned a reputation for impassioned pleas lled with tears. No doubt he’ll be crying before the end of the night. After all, tonight is the nal culminationof over a year of social climbing. Over a year of playing pong inthe right places on the right nights. Over a year of not making funof b-side brothers by accident or intimidating NARPy brothers.

And now it all comes down to this. Two hours of attempting to judge young men’s characters by a few experiences around a pong table and Facebook prole photos will determine a brotherhood’scomposition forthe next three years. But it’s okay, somehow it all works out.

First, however, you have to get through the damn event. Whichis far from an easy task.

So, with your bingo card, you pick up a cup and dip it into atrashcan. Three handles of Everclear had joined several gallonsof tropical fruit schnapps in the trashcan earlier. It’s a somewhat foul-smelling concoction, but luckily strong enough to erase anymemories of the entire process. Of course, the proceedings onlybecome louder and more boisterous as time goes on.

But, at least it’s better than whatever the girls have to gothrough, right? Hic.

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the last word.

Compiled by TJPH

1 shot Everclear alcoholtropical-fruit schnapps

Kappa Killer Kool-aid

“Some day you will be old enough to start reading

fairy tales again.”

-C.S. Lewis

Growing apart doesn’t change the fact that for a long

time we grew side by side; our roots will always be

tangled. I’m glad for that.

-Ally Condiet

I walked over to the hill where we used to go and sled.

There were a lot of little kids there. I watched them

ying. Doing jumps and having races. And I thought

that all those little kids are going to grow up someday.

And all of those little kids are going to do the things

that we do. And they will kiss someone someday. But

for now, sledding is enough. I think it would be great

if sledding were always enough, but it isn’t.

-Stephen Chbosky

If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity

to climb a tree, I’ll never grow up, never grow up,

never grow up! Not me!

-J.M. Barrie

The mark of the immature man is that he wants to die

nobly for a cause, while the mark of the mature man

is that he wants to live humbly for one.-J.D. Salinger

Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no

remedy exists, unless laughter could be said to rem-

edy anything.

-Kurt Vonnegut

I am convinced that most people do not grow up...

We marry and dare to have children and call that

growing up. I think what we do is mostly grow old.

We carry accumulation of years in our bodies, and on

our faces, but generally our real selves, the children

inside, are innocent and shy as magnolias.

-Maya Angelou

Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let

go of them. They move on. They move away. The mo-

ments that used to dene them - a mother’s approval,

a father’s nod - are covered by moments of their own

accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin

sags and the heart weakens, that children understand;

their stories, and all their accomplishmetns sit atop

the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon

stones, beneath the waters of their lives.

-Mitch Albom

I went to college for four years.

-Kim Kardashian

Don’t you nd it odd that when you’re a kid, everyone,

all the world, encourages you to follow your dreams.

But when you’re older, somehow they act offended if

you even try.

-Ethan Hawke

“He stood at the window of the empty cafe and watched

the activities in the square and he said that it was

good that God kept the truths of life from the young

as they were starting out or else they’d have no heart

to start at all.

-Cormac McCarthy

Don’t try to make me grow up before my time...

-Louisa May Alcott

The child who refuses to travel in the father’s harness,

this is the symbol of man’s most unique capability. “I

do not have to be what my father was. I do not have

to obey my father’s rules or even believe everything

he believed. It is my strength as a human that I can

make my own choices of what to believe and what

not to believe, of what to be and what not to be.

-Frank Herbert

Most of us won’t see one another after graduation,

and even if we do it will be different. We’ll be dif - ferent. We’ll be adults--cured, tagged, and labeled

and paired and identied and placed neatly on our

life path, perfectly round marbles set to roll down

even, well-dened slopes.

-Lauren Oliver

The place is changed now, and many familiar faces

are gone, but the greatest change is myself. I was a

child then, I had no idea what the world would be

like. I wished to trust myself on the waters and the

sea. Everything was romantic in my imagination.

The woods were peopled by the mysterious good folk.

The Lords and Ladies of the last century walked with

me along the overgrown paths, and picked the old

fashioned owers among the box and rose hedges

of the garden.

-Beatrix Potter

Growing up is such a barbarous business, full of

inconvenience and pimples.

-J.M. Barrie

I’m at that age where I watch such things with two

minds, one that cackles at these capers and another

that never gets much beyond a rather jaded and self-

conscious smile, like the Mona Lisa.

-Alan Bradley

Part of me is afraid that everyone will laugh.

-Laura Goode

Documents

The Dartmouth Review 10.14.2013 Volume 33, Issue 8