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With the stimulating announcement that the talent for the forthcoming Smoker may run from Mayor Curley to Greta Garbo, the Freshman Affairs Committee is harking back to the whoop-de-do that marked the spirited festivals of the past. The razzle-dazzle that teased through the years with Sally Rand, Beatrice Kay and Jinx Falkenberg, was conceived in an all-or-nothing spirit that merited E pennants for entertainment. Eagerly anticipating upperclass status with a yell and a holler, all Freshmen banded together to throw their shackles into the Charles and emerge with the Biggest Show Ever. They balked only at the impossible, and-dreamed of painting their class numerals on the moon.
One of the few institutions capable of pulling a class together, the Smoker is one of the only ways to dispel the apathy so prevalent now. The present 1951 attempt to "surpass all previous Smoker gaiety" should not be stymied by the abortive affair of last year, when the Class of '48 was forced by fear of publicity to forego Jane Russell for chalk talks by Dahl, and finally to forego Dahl for no Smoker. But publicity is unfavorable only if riots and abductions ensue, and by vetoing the get-together, University Hall only intensified the disunity already present.
In spite of intimations to the contrary, the coming Smoker should be a lusty replica of its pre-war counterpart, not a colorless compromise reminiscent of short-shrift USO combos. The tremendous carnivals of the past that tried to "make Daniel Boones of Freshmen" and worried lost they "shock the boys," belong with gate-welding, goldfish gulpings, and other rah-rah episodes now practically non-existent. It is up to the Freshman Class to conjure up a Smoker so well-rounded with frolic and so fully-packed with talent that the air will be blue for days.
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