UMass' Upset Victory, No Drinking Rule, Nobel Award to Scientists Highlight Term

The whole thing had the worst of beginnings. Those who went, went because it was the first game and it was already fall. If they didn't expect much of a game, they at least expected Harvard to win; after all, who had heard of the University of Massachusetts? It was the worst of beginnings because it was the worst of upsets?

One bad football game doesn't ruin a fall, of course and it was a long way to exam period. But there were two developments that tempered weekend enthusiasm and made defeats all the worse. The day of the wooden goalposts was gone, replaced by an era of solid steel things. Drinking at games had gotten out of hand, they said, and "obvious violators" would be thrown out before they and their drinks could get into the game. Columnist Red Smith chided the H.A.A. for depriving spectators of "the only solace that would serve" when the Crimson wasn't winning.

Matthews, Maids, Measles

The undergraduate took to other pastimes on the duller weekends. After the muddy Ohio game, old Matthews Hall was almost blown from its foundations by two freshmen and their rocket fuel, a Claverly room caught on fire, and a resident of the same hall accidently suffered a deep chest wound.

For some reason pre and post game activity reached a low ebb. A mild disturbance before the Yale game was the only bright spot, but most of the noise and spirit came from a hard core of beer-drinking Elis. Oldtimers sadly remarked that the days of Pogo riots will become legendary when the class of 1955 graduates, and Harvard apathy will even extend to riot-making.

Developments that would have a long-term effect went almost unnoticed. Several advanced standing students were already residing in the Houses under the new plan, and the maids had deserted Lowell and Winthrop. The general reaction was that the student porters didn't seem to care much about the dust but did a good job otherwise.

Two University scientists, John F. Enders and Thomas H. Weller, received the Nobel Prize for Medicine for their work on polio vaccine, and soon afterwards Enders announced that he was near success on a vaccine for measles.

Business School Dean Donald K. David retired after 13 years and drew high praise from contemporaries for his active work in the School. Francis M. Rogers, Dean of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences, also retired to teaching and Mason Hammond, Master of Kirkland House, will become the second Housemaster (John Finley of Eliot was the first) in as many years to announce plans for study abroad.

An Appeal to Reason

Man gave in to machine in yet another sphere when the Memorial Church Bell was placed under automatic control after some 311 years of human manipulation. Then Arnold J. Toynbee came to talk and 5,000 people came to hear. A near-riot ensued when most of them couldn't get into Sanders Theatre, but a last minute appeal to reason by Dean Bundy carried more force than that mustered by the Cambridge Police.

Another chapter in the Furry-Kamin saga was being written as the term ended. Cited for contempt of Congress, both Wendell H. Furry and Leon J. Kamin '49 pleaded not guilty to a total of 16 charges and will face a long court battle this spring. Members of the Physics and Social Relations Departments immediately started funds for the defense of the pair.

Varsity Wins, Band Loses

Actually it was only the beginning of the term that was bad. Frank White ran a reverse one November afternoon and threw to Bob Cochran to climax a brilliant team effort over Yale and give the Crimson its first Big Three title since 1946. The sudden change of fortune on the gridiron apparently was too much for the Band's big bass drum, however, for the silent partner to the latest Crimson victories expired with the term.

On the whole the weather was typical of Cambridge: it managed to rain pretty regularly on Saturdays, but a dry January made tradging to Lamont almost bearable. The bad beginning didn't make for for a bad ending, and anyway spring is almost here.