Bolman Gives Oration, Lansing Reads Poem in Colorful Class Day Program

Class Day started slowly yesterday morning under cloudy skies. The events scheduled for the House quadrangle were moved into the New Gym, taking place on the basketball floor. Due to the poor acoustics, the noisy arrival of late spectators and several graduating members of 1935, the various speeches were hard to hear.

The ceremonies began with the Senior parade into the gym to the music of the Pierian Sodality. 1935 sat on the floor before the speakers, while the two grandstands at the sides of the room were filled with a paltry 500 spectators, parents, and press men. Herman Gundlach, Jr., First Marshal, presided and introduced the speakers, the first of whom was Frederick deWolfe Bolman, Jr., the Class Orator.

Bolman Speaks

Bolman, president of the Debating Council, spoke briefly and concisely on how the training that the Class of 1935 received differed from the training given to previous classes, and emphasized the fact that 1935 must be practical.

A side note at the end of this speech was the appearance of a blue-robed figure wearing a crown of blue and gold, a Neptune from the grimy sea, who noisily strode onto the floor and then beat a hasty retreat. It turned out that the figure was a reunioning member of the Class of 1925.

Ten Eyck Lansing, quiet and reserved, with a soft moving voice, read the Class Poem. This was followed by the singing of the Class Ode, written by George Lee Haskins, to the tune of Fair Harvard. Frank E. Johnson, III, Chorister, led the orchestra in accompaniment. The exercises were concluded by the march of the Senior Class to Kirkland House for lunch. Many in the audience expressed regret that these traditional exercises had been moved out of Sanders Theatre.

Lunch in Houses

From noon till the start of the stadium parade at 1.30 o'clock, lunch was served to the various reunion classes in the Houses and at Dillon Field House. The twenty-fives having a spread in Eliot House, were very lavish. Residents of K entry were delightfully surprised to find a well-stocked bar in the ground floor rooms, with efficient delivery out of the windows into the inner court.

After luncheon graduates grouped themselves at the foot of Holyoke Street to form the parade into the stadium. The Harvard Band, made famous by its stellar performances at the football games last fall, was on hand to lead the procession. Two other bands, and one aggregation of graduates which passed for a band, were on hand.

The Class of '69 had the honor of leading the parade, having one grizzled veteran, banner in hand, as a representative. George P. Gardner '10, Chief Marshal, was also in the front rank, taking his position on the rostrum immediately on arrival.

1873 Follows

Next followed a few representatives of '73, preceding a good number of the fifty-year class, who sported banners praising the author of "Casey at the Bat" and the famous '85 ball team, which won ten straight games, defeating Princeton, Dartmouth, and Yale. There followed a sizable representation of the classes of 1900 and 1905, both dressed in ordinary street clothes.

The first real bit of color in the procession came with the twenty-year class, who were white pants, green blazers, and white painters' hats with green visors. They were trailed by the Class of 1920, who were led by a special band, all dressed in army uniform with army tin hats painted with silver. The class members were dressed in orange coats, white trousers, and bright overseas caps.

1925 carried many banners declaring: "Supreme Court Declares Yale Unconstitutional," "Every Man Is a King," "Disloyal Order of the Kingfish," "Share Your Wealth With Your Wife," and "We Are Fugitives From a Chain Letter." They were dressed as kings, with blue robes and blue and gold crowns, making a very colorful procession.

Memories of '29

Next in the train came 1929, also bearing signs such as "Whose Babies Are We," or "Another Five Year Plan Gone Wrong." They were dressed in orange and white. Next came 1932, dressed in nightshirts and pushing before them a baby carriage in which was a real baby, (Mr. Felton's, we believe) over which towered the sign, "Is This the Class Baby?" Another banner declared "We Do Most of Our Own Work!"

A more dignified note was added to the procession by the blue coats and white pants of the 1910 Class, over 400 strong. They marched at the end of the parade, led by their own band. Last, but not least, came the graduating class (with one member of 1925 staggering in their midst.) The band had made a special circuit of the stadium in order to lead them in.

1935 was dressed in the traditional caps and gowns, looking very scholastic and dignified as they passed in review before the spectators. A note of humor was added by the fact that they carried on their shoulders three young urchins from the Cambridge suburbs, one of whom was sporting a severe black cap.

Gardner Introduces

As soon as all the classes were gathered, Mr. Gardner spoke a few words of introduction, saying in part that the class of 1910 was still able "to totter down to the stadium." He toasted the Class of 1935 with a few well chosen words, declaring "the world is your oyster. Eat it alive, it tastes better that way. The blessings of 1910 are with you."

Gundlach then called for cheers from the Senior Class, who lustily saluted '10, '85, major sports, minor sports, and the ladies. At this point in the exercises the rostrum was turned over to Clarence C. Little '10, permanent class secretary. He declared that the Class of 1910 had several degrees to confer on its members. A diploma was claimed to be the most useless thing in the world, and for this reason fans were presented with the comment that the Class would have to be "like Sally Rand, not Talleyrand." George A. Parker '10 was the first to be honored. Mr. Parker was the head of the state police of Massachusetts, and he was called the guide of 1910 and its sons and their hope for days to come.

Hallowell Honored

Next came Robert C. Hallowell '10, from the board of the New Republic. He was named "a Quaker who wouldn't quake." Further comments by Mr. Little brought out the fact that he was now painting, not writing, and as a result of this he is now painting real faces and not literary faces. Walter Lippmann '10 was next called to the speakers' stand to receive the benediction that "he was a great journalist who refused to be buried on Boston Common." He was further praised by the phrase "his discussions of the Republican and Democratic parties are more interesting than the parties themselves."

Our Congressman, Ham Fish, Jr., was the last to be taken over the bumps. He was termed "the nine-lived Congressman who sees not only over our heads, but through them and is in the infra-red district of politics. Mr. Little's presentation was the best handled part of the program and brought many a hearty laugh from the spectators.

Palmer on Rostrum

Gundlach, after Mr. Little was through, introduced that great Lampooner, Vinny Palmer, who proceeded to give the Ivy Oration, mainly a history of the escapades of the afore-mentioned Lampoon. This was relieved by the action of an effective alarm clock and a bunch of sputtering firecrackers. F. Donovan Bisby, alias fictitious Lampoon character, came in for a good many tributes and was listed as being the blackest member of the Class of 1935.

Palmer also alluded to the great Lampoon fake, when they announced that one, Clarke had been named President of Harvard. He then went on to say that President Conant had in fact been an imposter since that time; now, however, the Senior Class wished to fully instal him in office. At the end of his speech he pointed out that the future of Harvard depended on the activities of Mr. Apted, head of the Yard police. Because of the importance of this office, he raised Mr. Apted to the station of Major-General, and at the close of his speech presented him with a sword and an admiral's hat.

Cheer for Conant

This finished there was a cheer for President Conant and for the University. Conant replied that he felt it was true that he was a pretender because of his inexperience, but that he was glad to be fully installed. He refrained, however, from giving an inaugural address, and contented himself with saying his final farewells to the graduating class and wishing them the greatest success.

This was followed by the singing of Fair Harvard under the leadership of Frank E. Johnson, III, Chorister. Hardly had the last note passed away than the battle of paper began, with great fury. With a strong breeze blowing, everybody was soon covered with bits of paper. The Senior Class with deadly accuracy threw paper bombs at their friend in the stadium, who returned in kind. After this subsided, the Class marched out onto the baseball field and halted in left field, arranged by classes. Then they all marched around the diamond, cheered the Yale team in their dugout periodically and finally made their way to seats in the stands.

The baseball game began soon afterwards with a cold wind blowing and the crowd shivering. After the first few innings, the people began to melt away and a crowd which had been capacity at the first of the game soon dwindled to a mere nothing.

Things Noticed

The Class of 1929 pushing around a half dozen or so miniature baby-carriages in which tiny pigs were reclining.

A member of 1925, in full class costume, carrying a wooden cross and a shovel, bound in an aimless fashion for the baseball stands.

The two bands at the baseball game trying to play Harvard songs in unison from two opposite sides of the field. The result was two bands in three-quarters of same time.

The very active and busy Junior Ushers, captained by Thomas H. Quinn '36, in the absence of Shaun Kelly '36, who wandered around and looked efficient.

Four Junior Ushers advancing to receive the colors from the graduating class in the absence of the officers of the Freshman Class 1938.

The members of the Class of 1932 pushing an iron wheelbarrow filled with cracked ice, etc.