Belated wayfarers along North Harvard Street have become timid these cold nights. They report that as they pass the Soldiers Field fence opposite the new Business School the have heard ghostly voices in the darkness, and the occasional ring of a bell. Investigation in the archives of Allston has found no record of a bell-ringing spectre that haunts the southern edge of the Lars Anderson Bridge.
But there is a much more homely and rational explanation. With the Business School so new-and-all there is a lack of telephone service, to the annoyance of the students. The telephone company, pitying the case of the men unreasonably deprived of the voice with a smile, has installed two pay-telephones on two telephone-poles across the street.
The spectacle of a human-being with his head and shoulders thrust ostrich, like into a box on the side of a pole intrigues the passers-by on North Harvard Street, who stop to gaze at the sight of a man asking for a telephone number, getting it, and talking with it, all in the open air, unobscured by the protecting walls of a booth. But one must telephone, even in Allston.