Instans Tyrannus

(Ed. Note--The Crimson does not necessarily endorse opinions expressed in printed communications. No attention will be paid to anonymous letters and only under special conditions, at the request of the writer, will names be withheld.)

To the Editor of the CRIMSON:

The time set for the ushers to be at the Stadium, was one o'clock for the first two games, twelve-fifteen for the rest. On October seventh I arrived there at ten minutes to one. No sooner had I received my badge of authority, than my eardrums were smitten by the jarring sound of a grouchy grumbling voice. It was His Exalted Highness, Mahadius the Great, shouting: "Come on, get along and do some work." All this accompanied by a lowering visage.

In my position, a Freshman would have touched his shivering knees to the ground with a awe-struck knees to the a Sophomore would have gazed in calm wonderment and passed on in a state of blissful superiority. But I, as a Junior--Well, I counted slowly up to ten, and then said in tragic tones; "Endure my heart, far worse hast thou endured."

On October fourteenth, I arrived at twelve-forty-five. This time it was: "Hurry up there! We don't want you fellow; you don't come to work, you just come to see the game!" What penetration, what philosophic insight into character!

My much respected but disillusioned Sir, what do you think we come for? Do you think we sit and wait for two hours before the game, and then usher for the sheer pleasure of serving You Diminutive Highness? Of course we come to see the game! Only that inducement could make us submit to the degradations of personal dignity which we undergo at the hands of your embryo top-sergeants! Ernest Fasano '35.