TONIGHT AT SEVEN-THIRTY

Although impartial observers claim that over ninety per cent of contemporary newspaper publishers never went out for the Crimson, the fact remains that no less a man than James Bryant Conant (Crimson '13) has been heard to say that--for a certain type of man--the Crimson is more valuable than any regular curricular work. It is unfortunate that Harvard's president never went on to specify what certain type of man he was referring to; however, after delving deep into the depths of its morgue the Crimson board finally is able to clarify this statement.

For the athlete who after an exhausting workout wonders "is it worth it?"; for the bespectacled lad who in his Widener cell asks himself "where is this getting me?"; for the socialite who in Hayes-Bickford at 5 a.m. muses "why do I ever go to Boston parties?"; for the Brooks House missionary who in the squalor of the slums demands "what can I do for them?";--for these men particularly the Crimson has been proven to have the greatest value. Now if your life--or your shy modesty--prevents you from being included in any one of the aforementioned categories there is no need to give up all hope. Just go and get a medical exam and then trot over to 14 Plympton--the Crimson can use you.