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To the Editors of The Crimson:
What's worse than trying to sleep to the drip-drip of a leaky faucet? That's right. Trying to study to the clank-clank of a steam pipe. That's what the average stall-user has to contend with daily in Widener Library. With all respect to Widener's age and reputation as a bulwark of books, the place has at least this one uningratiating side. I guess you'd call it just old-fashioned wind. At any moment, the quiet of your stall is likely to be shattered by a god awful, devil-inspired cacophany of thumps, whacks, hisses, wheezes, gurglings and belches. All this gaseous activity fluctuated with the severity of the cold outside. On a bad day, it reaches to a furious pitch. This is not to say that everyone is, or would be, bothered by these arpeggios of steam in the pipes. Clearly not. But for those, like me, who in the pursuit of silence are sensitive to the least disturbance they are a virtual torment, and become almost a personal affront. Try changing your seat and they will follow you. (It may be that some people will let it bother them.) However, this chronic condition which is so inconsistent with the nature of a library I think deserves some remedial attention. Grenville Thoron Stall B-23
P.S.: Perhaps Harvard could undertake a feasibility study on converting to oil heat.
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