Princeton's Clubs Bow Three To Sophomore '100-percent' Drives

A Princeton eating club, to a casual visitor, seems to offer nothing except an endless round of parties, dances, and dinners. But behind this facade of elegance--waiters, fine food, comfortable chairs, linen table cloths--lies a quarrel that nearly split the university in two three years ago, and the resulting mess is still the hottest topic on the campus.

Clubs always exclude someone and up to spring of 1950 ten percent of Tiger sophomores usually failed to make the grade and were condemned to Commons and Howard Johnson's dinners.

From being an experiment, Princeton's unique 17-clubs system has passed through the stages of phenomena and fadism, and at last proved itself an asset to the college. The sophomore "100-percent or none" movement of 1949 to 1950 virtually established a new and shaky Tiger tradition. Since then all eligible sophomores have received bids and as one Princeton said recently, "the 'right' attitude towards 100-percent is now accepted. . . '

Still this February's "bicker period," during which sophomores receive bids to join the clubs, will again be a rocky one; the claim of 1955 has five negroes. Twelve of the 17 clubs draw no racial lines, but all have held a color barrier so far.

Prospect Out of Bounds

The present bickering system is the crux of the "100 percent argument." Until he is elected to a club, Prospect Avenue, where the clubs are located, is out of bounds to all underclassmen.

Bickering starts in February with a calling period during which club representatives visit prospective members in their rooms--up to 11.45 p.m. Then a three day calling period ensues when for the first time sophomores can visit any or all houses. During this time sophomores receive bids and are usually given several hours to accept or decline. About two percent annually refuse all club bids.

A "Bicker code" defines "unethical practices" such as pre-Bicker beer parties and mailing Christmas greetings to promising sophomores.

One of the major obstacles to "100 percent" was the practice of "ironclads" whereby upwards of 14 men would insist on being elected to a club on masse. Current rules limit the size of such groups to five or six.

Almost all of a Princetonian's social activity is centered in his club. Here he eats, relaxes, parties, and houses his girl in the weekends. Meals cost about $19 to $21 per week, but for this sum an undergraduate avoids the noise of commons, student waiters, and Howard Johnson's food. Most say it is well worth the price. Scholarship students are called rate men and pay $17 a week.

In addition club men are assessed a party fee--about $40 to $75 a year, depending on the club. Rates are somewhat cheaper in Prospect Club, a cooperative. Initiation fees run in the neighborhood of about $50, and some clubs have undergraduate dues of about $25 a term.

At present, with the exception of Prospect, all club waiters are professional. The University has repeatedly tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade clubs to give up this luxury and employ students. As Minot C. Morgan Jr., Director of the Bureau of Student Aid and Employment, said recently, "It's something that's inevitable, only the date is uncertain."

Parietal rules are unknown in Princeton. Since the clubs are on private property the University has no jurisdiction over them. Under the so-called "Gentlemen's Agreement" clubs enjoy complete autonomy from interference by college proctors if they enforce the rules pertaining to undergraduate behavior.

Theoretically all men must leave the clubs by 2 a.m. on weekends and no liquor may be served without Dean's Office permission. The Agreement was revised this fall, but still "it's power depends solely upon what kind of a guy your club has as president . . ."

Criticism has dogged the Princeton clubs. In 1853 the University banned secret societies, so students turned to eating in boarding houses. This soon proved unsatisfactory, and in 1878 the first eating club--Ivy--was born.

According to legend a group of students, after they were ejected from their boarding house after a chicken croquette fight, rented an old house, hired a Negro cook, bought a stove, and Ivy club was in business.

Tiger, Colonial Cap and Gown, and other social groups soon followed suit and by 1900 Prospect Street was tabbed "The Street" with almost half the college belonging to clubs.

1917: Sophomore Revoit

Club abolition movements soon started. In 1913 President Woodrow Wilson tried to establish a house system similar to that adopted here. Four years later saw the first sophomore "revolt." Petitions, Club board resignations, and 'Princetonian' editorials ensued, but World War I prematurely ended the fracas. Fruitless revolts materialized in 1925 and in the '30's. The words "100 percent" were never mentioned, however; the demand was only for increased sophomore bids. Fifteen percent of the class, however, remained classed as "unworthies."

By 1940 pressure was applied again. A faculty-student fact-finding committee formed, but accomplished little except to issue the virtual platitude that, "all, or as many as possible, members of the upper two classes should belong to eating clubs."

Meanwhile Dean Gauss created an 18th club to absorb the 10 percent that weren't making the grade at the time. Gateway turned out to be not such a bad club after all, and until the first war class of 1942 almost 100 percent of the college were clubmen.

The next year, without coercion, '100-percent' was finally achieved; 1942 followed suit and 1943 had 99.5 percent. The sophomore fear of being cast into social limbo vanished. Then World War II arrived.

With war came more important problems. When it was ever there were only 17 clubs again--a temporary housing project had absorbed Gateway--and no 100 percent.

Perhaps irritated by the fact only 80.2 percent of the sophomores made the grade in 1949, the Class of 1952 started to agitate for "100 percent" almost as soon as they arrived. By December 605 sophomores had pledged not to join a club unless every classmate received a bid.

On the night of March 3, 1950, Dean Godolphin announced that the Undergraduate Interclub Committee had agreed to issue club bids to all sophomores; the controversial bicker was over.

In making the announcement Godolphin warned that "this success provides no precedent for the future . . ." The previous December President Dodds, strongly backed by Princeton's Club alumni, had proposed to solve the problem by building a non-elective 18th upperclass eating club.

Undergraduates greeted the Dodds plan with mixed feeling, many fearing the club would turn into a "dumping ground" for "undesirables." Club presidents blandly stated they "would welcome the new club as integral part of the Princeton Club system . . ."

The Korean war made all talk of a new building out of the question and the 18th club scheme was gradually dropped. As one sophomore said, "there is no talk of it anymore--even from Dodds."

Next year both the sophomores and the bicker period were relatively passive but again 100 percent was achieved. In 1952 all sophomore eligibles received bids on the second night of open house, in what the "Princetonian" called "a precedent-shattering climax."

All these changes have done much to democratize the clubs: no longer can they be characterized as F. Scott Fitzgerald did in the '20's: "Ivy, detached and breathlessly aristocratic; College, an impressive melange of brilliant adventurers and well-dressed philanderers; Tiger, broad shouldered and athletic, vitalized by an houest elaboration of prep school standards; Cap and Gown, anti-alcoholic, faintly religious and politically powerful; flamboyant Colonial; literary Quadrangle; and the doxen others, varying in age and position."

The age, position, and prestige may vary, but Princeton's clubs remain.