Harvard Law School Makes Online Zero-L Course Free for All U.S. Law Schools Due to Coronavirus
For Kennedy School Fellows, Epstein-Linked Donors Present a Moral Dilemma
Tenants Grapple with High Rents and Local Turnover at Asana-Owned Properties
In April, Theft Surged as Cambridge Residents Stayed at Home
The History of Harvard's Commencement, Explained
President Roosevelt will dine to the tune of discordant bells at the annual winter Fly Club dinner Saturday, February 23, the CRIMSON was startled to learn last night. The grinding clangor will not be celebrating his visit to Cambridge, nor yet a favorable gold decision, but will be fulfilling a wish that the unwitting President made in October 1933 when he was gracefully extricating himself from the Lowell House carillon flasco.
Mr. Roosevelt had just been informed by Julian L. Coolidge '95, Master of Lowell House, that the letter asking him if he would permit the trouble-some Lowell House bells to be named for him, was an undergraduate prank. Consenting to the publication of the correspondence, he wired: "In spite of it all, the next time I go to Cambridge, I propose to listen to those bells."
The President evidently did not know that it has been impossible to tune the bells. It is doubtful whether he was aware that the College has been unable to find an experienced Russian player, so that dubious but vociferous scales are about the only piece de resistance for would-be Lowell House sleepers Sunday mornings.
In spite of this, a few members of Lowell House have decided to grant the President's wish. Informed quarters suspect a more practical purpose. According to them, it is hoped that the President of the United States will lend his support to the pleas of quite des- perate Bellboys that the bells be exiled to the basement to Memorial Hall, where they can be tolled during examination periods.
Whether University officials see fit to override a wish of their distinguished alumnus remained a debatable question tonight. It is expected that Professor Coolidge will again have the job of maintaining cordial relations between Mr. Roosevelt and the bells.
A year ago last October an undergraduate wag decided he would ask the President if the bells could be named for him. Mr. Roosevelt wrote a warm acceptance to Professor Coolidge, saying lie was "delighted and greatly honored." Mr. Coolidge, to whom the idea had apparently never occurred, found that the terms of the gift made this solution impossible, and was forced to write his former pupil that he had been the victim of a prank
Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.