The Vagabond may live in Memorial Hall Tower, he may be philosophically inclined, he may seem a little flighty at times, prefering the things of the mind to those of the body, but he is still in good physical condition, thank you, and very, very far from senile and decrepit. All of which means that he is girding his loins for a possible struggle this evening.
He is going to the Yale hockey game, of course, and he is not rash enough to hazard a guess as to who will be the victor--that he leaves to the respective teams and the somewhat fickle Goddess of fate. But if fortune smiles on the crimson-shirted players, and it may, there is one thing that the Vagabond is perfectly certain will come to pass, and that something is a subway riot.
The Vagabond is willing to admit that he enjoyed the first subway riot of 1929. Though entirely inexcusable morally, it had, at least, the element of novelty. Those of 1930 lacked even that saving grace. Riots in 1931 are just damn nuisances, painful alike to regular travellers and to students with even a microscopic sense of common decency.
There is a certain class of students in this college who under favorable conditions revert to the mucker-collegiate type, long since out of date, and insist on behaving in a way which can only be described as intensely and drippingly wet. Such are the kind that perpetrate the subway riot tradition, and upon this class the Vagabond proposes to do slaughter, mayhem, and bodily violence, when and if a riot breaks out this evening. His tactics may be all wrong, he may only be adding fuel to the fire but at least he will have given outlet to a desire which has been nurtured in the last two battered and darkened "El" cars in which he has ridden, a desire to pound the man who blows out the first fuse. He hopes he pounds the right one tonight if opportunity occurs.
"Public Opinion in Russia in the first half of the Nineteenth Century," Professor Karpovitch, Boylston 31.
"Revolution of 1848 in Austria," Professor Fay, Germanic Museum.