Cold Comfort

Spring seems to be arriving at last; at least the snow has turned to rain in Cambridge, and the frozen ground has oozed into the perennial mud. It is not too early to start planning for the vernal equinox.

The Harvard continental set has been heard murmuring about the marroniers soon to blossom in Paris, the sweet fragrance along the Seine and how the cafes along the Champs Elysees or the Kurfurstendam are putting up their awnings again. The lament of the Eliot House cognoscenti or the bread-cheese-and wine continental wanderers at the Bick for the douceur de vie is especially plaintive as Harvard thaws.

Both to greet the spring and to provide a suitably simpatico atmosphere for those would-be travellers who must remain in Cambridge for the while, Harvard should add that most pleasant of European institutions--an outdoor cafe.

Perhaps the Fly Club property could be appropriated; the University could remind the Fly of its civic responsibility, and put the umbrella-covered tables up in the area on Plympton Street.

As for managing the enterprise a condominium of the owners of local coffee shops could be installed. Napoleons from the Patisserie Gabrielle; Viennese cakes and coffee from Tulla's; espresso from the Mozart; and capuccino from Mount Aubrun 47 could serve as fare. Perhaps Jim Cronin could learn to mix Noilly Cassis for afternoon sipping and the Wursthaus could offer good Pils or bock beer.

The possibilities are infinite: each coffee house could contribute its own favorite guitarist and folk singers to wander and strum on different days. Russian Volga songs, French chansons; perhaps even American folk songs (though this is recommended hesitantly) would float between the tables.

Cambridge is, for all its brick sidewalks and miserable weather, an unfortunately American town. An outdoor cafe could dull the red-brick austerity and usher in spring with langorous and graceful living.