Nolo

Nolo contendere can mean just about anything. To the prosecutor, it spells an economical victory. To the defendant it means relief from what he considers the boring tack of proving his innocence. To the newspapers and the public it justifies all their conjectures, no matter what they were.

The response to this week's trial followed the time honored tradition. There were certain crowing sounds from the direction of police headquarters, and sighs of obvious relief from the twenty-six defendants, who had been prepared to fail their exams, disburse large sums of money, and undergo whatever other tribulations their particular situations imposed.

The fact that the defendants considered money and grades more important than a legal battle, however, is a more impressive argument that the I couldn't-be-bothered stand, especially since they changed their plea only on the guarantee that the district attorney would recommend filing all the cases away in the dusty corners of the courthouse, never to be heard of again.

Actually, then, the court decision has decided little or nothing. The University is still faced with the questions raised by an overdose of the billy stick. Thrown in for good measure is a separate problem--protecting the right of a student newspaper to gather information without interference.

The last time that billy clubs whistled through the air too often and too accurately--in 1927 after the University Theater released its swarm of students into a Cambridge mob that had gathered already--President Lowell responded by demanding the suspension of four officers. There may be no need for such a drastic rejoinder as that, but at least the University should make a clear protest and demand that relations with Cambridge be free of any more such occurences.