Memorial Hall Scene of Numerous Episodes Connected With Harvard History --- Carrie Nation's Riot There Memorable

At 2.30 o'clock yesterday afternoon Memorial Hall marked time. Her old walls, about to be covered by preserving paint, were at ease to think of other days. It was a proud day for those walls when they were dedicated on the hallowed ground of the predecessor of Soldiers Field. But time has passed and many scars have been graven on the memory of the walled patriarch of Harvard.

Arouses Students

She recalls that day when a woman upset the staid order of affairs and sent the undergraduates into an uproar. There have been few more boisterous hours in Harvard's history than those between noon and 3 o'clock of November 14, 1902, when Carrie National made a whirlwind campaign to woe the student body from rum and nicotine. The Kansas hatchet-swinger, who personally broke enough whiskey bottles to arouse envy in the heart of the most rabid modern prohibition agent, stepped off the electric car that carried her from Boston to Cambridge and went straight to those claustral walls, where a thousand students were eating their midday meal. She had heard that ham was occasionally served with champagne sauce and that she had seen a menu which listed wine jelly.

Well do the walls remember how she went directly to the visitor's gallery. As soon as the students became aware of her identity, her first words were greeted with cheers and jeers. She tried to warn them against cigarette-smoking teachers. Then she came to the subject of the intoxicating items on the menu.

"Boys! Don't eat that infernal stuff. It's poison" she cried.

The students promptly took her at her word and abandoned their food as she came down stairs to sell her famous miniature nickel-plated hatchets. Students pressed around her, offering her cigars and cigarettes, and feigning great surprise when she struck their smokes wrathfully to the ground. One student made a grab at her bonnet, but was unable to detach it.

"Remember the Good Book says that men shall not wear the garments of women, nor women the garments of men!" She shrieked at the youth.

She ran about slapping faces, seizing cigars and pipes, and crying that every-one at Harvard was a hellion. The students enjoyed every bit of it, and proceeded to swarm about her and sweep her to Sanders Theatre. The boys smashed their way through the door and triumphantly carried Mrs. Nation onto the stage. The crusader again attempted to speak, but the 2000 men who jammed the hall vociferously drowned her out. Someone presented her with a bunch of crysanthemums, which she accepted with profuse bows and acknowledgements.

Interrupted by Cheers

Unable to give her speech because of the constant interruption of cheers and snatches of song Carrie finally gave up in disgust, abandoning the Harvard boys to their horrible fate.

This encounter can hardly be compared with the brilliant spectacle of a few months later. Memorial Hall was crowded to capacity that winter night, for King Edward VII, then Prince of Wales, was inspecting Harvard and was the center of attention in the gay banquet in his honor.

Amid the swishing music of busy paint brushes in the ancient common room, the walls can recall scenes of happy parties of youths who have long since become seated in the chairs of the mighty. Here was the scene of the boxing matches so famous in Teddy Roosevelt's time. Often did the little dice click on the floors in some remote, but now dusty corner of the room. Foamy beer trickled down the throats and the room rang with joyous song. This was "the busiest room within the walls of the busiest building in the East" as "Mem" was often termed in days gone by. Today, three men enter the portal. One is elderly, white, and bent with age, one is a man in his fifties, the third is an undergraduate with crew haircut. The first recalls the momentous occasion when the walls were dedicated. Another had many happy times here that he will never forget, but the last is barely interested. He is almost late for a class, and what does this place mean anyhow? To the first two of these men these old walls form the sanctum sanctorum of their college memories. They will continue to make their annual pilgrimages as long as she stands. It is a source of joy for them to bring their family with them as they relive the happiest days of their four years at Harvard.

But, the great bell in the mouldy tower bongs and time marches on. What are they going to do with the scared walls? They impede the course of Freshmen who make last minute dashes for the New Lecture Hall for History 1 lectures, not enough light enters the old windows to make it adequate for a good examination room. The janitor will not allow people to wander over the building because he fears they may be careless enough to let some stray cigarette ash fall on her floors and set her in flame, but a moment of grace is granted for viewing her dusty roots. In the heat of the old basement one discovers the remains of the old laundry wringers, now rusty with age. There are stacks of chairs which once were the thrones of exuberant Harvard men.

Naval Gun

Near the end of the long underground corridor, the sight of a gray naval gun can be discerned in the dim, half-light. Here in one corner is a deep sea bomb. A man is painting a periscope from a submarine in another part of the room. The Naval Science Department has asked for the use of Memorial Hall as its base, but they have been granted only a section in one of the remote parts of the basement. Once again the martial beat is in the heart of old "Mem."