Bootleggers Resort to Intimidation to Sell Liquor in Harvard Rooms--Pair Combats Them at Their Own Game

A new racket has appeared at Harvard, and almost simultaneous with its arrival, a means of combatting it has been devised. A pair of ingenious go-getting bootleggers recently hit upon a novel means of increasing their effectiveness as salesmen of illicit spirits. They had tried arguments supporting the authenticity of their liquors; they had worn stiff collars, shined their shoes, brushed their hair, and worn pleasant smiles on their unrefined countenances.

If they were to withstand the stiff competition of the bootlegging industry, a more modern, more effective sales argument had to be found. The solution to the difficult merchandising apparently turned out to lie in intimidation, big and tough talk, and downright bullying. A ready market was created as soon as the winning smile was discarded for hard-boiled scowls and Chicago along. Most effective of all was the brandishing of a neat steel-blue automatic. No direct threats are known to have been made, but insinuations of what had happened to other undergraduates who had crossed the paths of these bootleggers, intimations of what tough hombres these bootleggers were, all had a stimulating effect on sales.

All went well for several weeks until the pair went to call on a gentleman from the West, who possessed a brace of 45's. He found that with their leather holsters and cartridge belt, the "shooting irons" lent a decorative, masculine, frontier touch to the effeteness of his Cambridge quarters. He had heard about the unique sales arguments of the two vendors of booze, and when the pair arrived in his room one evening, he had an idea of how to bolster his sales resistance.

After courteously asking the bootleggers to make themselves comfortable, he found some pretext to call a roommate into his bedroom. They emerged a moment later, their hip-pockets bulging with the giant 45's.

The bootleggers opened their talk--from the sides of their mouths--and soon came to the point when one of them produced his gun, described by the Westerner as a 32-calibre police pistol. "Ever seen one of these?" the bootlegger inquired in ominous tones.

"Can't say that I have", replied the Westerner. "Never cared for them toys. I always use one of these." And with that he and his roommate produced the huge 45's. "Yeah," the second student replied, "I never would think of doing a job with anything smaller. Now take these notches in the handle ..."

But the two callers were nowhere around. They had pocketed their "rods" and have not been seen around Harvard Square since