Invasion of Yard by Navy Radio School Compels Freshmen to Retreat to Houses

With a bow to the exigencies of war, most men of the Class of 1946 who enter this June will set up their first Harvard housekeeping in the modern Houses, rather than the traditional and hallowed halls of the Yard. There will be some, of course, quartered in the southern-most part of the Yard, but the majority will live on the other side of Massachusetts Avenne's trolley tracks. All Freshmen, nevertheless, will dine and commune in one or another of the various Houses.

Recent generations of Harvard men, who have undergone the orderly graduation from Yard to Houses, will look upon this innovation with far greater shock than will its victims. Should the cause be sought by either, it lies purely and simply in the fact that the Yard is being turned over to the Navy for a Radio Communication School. Gone also for Freshmen will be the Harvard Union, where so many of their forebears have first learned to complain about College food.

All Classes Now Mingle

There are certainly advantages enough to the new arrangement to counter-balance whatever is lost to Freshmen by way of tradition and segregation. Finding themselves shipped south of the border and down on the river, they will immediately have the chance to mix with upperclassmen. Old class lines have been so thoroughly overrun, and in fact desecrated, by the acceleration program that it would be wrong to set the Freshmen apart and wholly to themselves.

Quite naturally, the presence of hordes of should-be Yardlings will put the cramp on the capacity of the Houses. Many suites that have for years been luxurious singles will now serve two persons; doubles will be augmented to triples, and so on (within reason.)

Adams House contains "Gold Coasters," quite a heterogeneous group who firmly vow that they have everything. They do have a swimming pool, considerable local spirit and frequent fracases with the Lampoon across the street. They take pride also in the fact that they are closest to the classrooms in the Yard.

Dunster Stages Wellesley Race

Just as diverse is the complement of Dunster House, the smallest of the lot. It has the largest library and its inhabitants manage even so to engage in every sort of activity, even to the point of staging an annual bicycle race to Wellesley.

Newly lost to Eliot House is its Famous Master, Professor Merriman, but his successor, Professor Finley, should keep the "Elephants" in their true tradition. Repute would make them a gathering of sophisticates, but last year they came up with a good football team to disprove the theory.

More abundant than elsewhere, probably, is the House spirit which prevails in Kirkland. The Straus trophy, emblematic of athletic supremacy, has fallen its way almost more often than not. The "Deacons" take further pride in the excellence of their dances, which are both large and lively.

Leverett, home of the "Bunnies," contains every conceivable type of human. It alone has a House Glee Club, but the fact is hardly indicative, inasmuch as one of its more active and energetic members of recent winters built an igloo in the court.

Lowell Boasts Bells, Brains

Largest House is Lowell, traditionally home of Harvard's brains, as well as of the only local set of Russian Bells--hence the "Bellboys." Actually, its proportion of brains to other varieties is far from excessive.

Winthrop House, the abode of the "Puritans," contains an abundance of athletes, but a surprising number also of would-be doctors, editors, teachers, and the like. It has more frontage on the Charles than any other House and its members are thus exposed freely to the charms of that body of water so long connected with the name of Harvard.