False Alarm

Athletic Director Bingham's refusal to give 200 tickets to Phillips Brooks House for use by settlement-house boys raised a minor flurry of indignation last week, and the news that the decision has been reversed did not entirely remove the distinctly unpleasant taste from most people's months. The indignation was unnecessary, for the HAA's premature and apparently ogre-like refusal was conditioned only by the lack of some sort of assurance that the plan was well-organized.

Gilding the lily, the athletic directors have placed the boys half-way up and on the sidelines for the Rutgers game, instead of tucking them away somewhere deep in the bowl where the game is but a rumor. The cynics who look for evil motives may try to content themselves with the one hitch of a 25 cent tariff on each boy, but that goes to the government by law, and nobody around Cambridge receives a cent.

The first hasty refusal came from Mr. Bingham's memories of rowdiness and damage by holders of complimentary tickets in the Stadium before the war. He was reassured and impressed by the care that PBH has put into its plan, under which there will be thirty leaders for the 200 boys, all of whom come from settlement houses in Greater Boston.

The move is an experiment both for the HAA and for Brooks House. PBH has organized the project with good-will and practicality, while the athletic directors have shown sufficiently that, with a bleak wooden expanse in sight every Saturday afternoon, they are willing to give a few free seats for children.