No More Pencils, No More Books: Cambridge Exodus Proceeds by Land, Sea and Air as Spring Recess Opens

By noon today, Cambridge will be as quite as Dean Duhig's waiting room-and the mass exodus will be completed. The stagecoaches, mule teams, kiddie cars, atomic bombs, and shiny new Studebakers will have disappeared, and five thousand overworked undergraduates will be on their spring vacations.

Local citizens noted the exodus with approval, especially one S. Sigmund Hickenlooper '14, brakeman for the New York, New Haven, and Hartford Railroad, who said he was looking forward to the revival of his favorite outdoor sport.

"I always like to see Harvard boys riding in boxears," he noted gleefully as he flourished his nightstick. "They have such hard heads. Just the thing to keep me in practice for the Florida trade."

Mr. Sly Comments

Meanwhile across town, Ernest I. SlyocC, always the first to leave and the last to return, had this to say about travel conditions: "Well yes, they certainly are aren't they. But yes! Ha! Ha! They definitely are. And it's a good thing too."

Moguls of many of the local pinball emporia, however, sharply disagreed, as they contemplated their vanishing trade. "It's all a communistic plot to run as eat of business," one of them said. "This vacation stuff is all wrong. Why they can get all the vacation they used any afternoon at the pinball machines. Why, what has New York got that we haven't? Chicago? Detroit? Miami? Nothing, Nothing at all."

But to these the parting students paid no attention. They have packed their books, put on their best shifts, and headed home.

And they will be back to start all over again on April 7.