"Harvard Square is not a Square, and it is not in Harvard," asserted Bruce U. Totalizer, tip sheet operator and handicapper in the Department of Geography, to his Radcliffe class yesterday. "It begins in a night lunch and ends in a graveyard," he continued, "and there is a big hole in the middle, out of which proletariat spew."
With a good pick up on your car you can hit a pedestrian at twenty paces.* There are more taxi drivers than students, and more yard cops than professors. In President Wigglesworth's time the college played a man $2000 a year to mow grass in front of Lehman Hall, which was then a stable. The man's name was Harvard, and he had a square wooden leg, and consequently when he came to the end of the lawn, he could only turn a sharp corner. These sharp corners formed a square, which came to be called "Harvard's Square."