Memorial Hall loomed large before 900 hesitant and expectant freshmen on the morning of September 21, 1928, as they filed before "the huge Gothic pile" to register as members of the Class of 1932. The eyes of Burke and Chatham looked severely down upon them, the jealous gargoyles stared angrily at the Yard behind them, and the clangor of the bell seemed to make time itself revert to the 19th century as they enrolled.

But by the time these freshmen graduated, the eyes of Chatham and Burke guarded little more than a storeroom for University files, the gargoyles gazed upon a College that was almost unrecognizable as the Harvard of 1932, and the bell, tolling too slowly to keep up with the changes that had been made, had been stolen in disgust.

Leaving the gargoyles behind them after registration, the freshmen strolled down Dunster Street, passed the green and white freshman athletic building, looked over at the little white colonial Hicks House on Holyoke Street, and disappeared into the Smith Halls, or walked down further, past the power plant on Boylston and Memorial Drive, to gaze at the Charles through the windows of Gore, Standish, or McKinlock. They ate in the separated dinning halls, met each other in the common rooms, and in a couple of months were so contented that they looked forward unhappily to having to leave their secluded dwellings with the Charles rolling alongside.

Mem Hall Had Gargoyles

Classes eventually began, and the routine that was soon to be sharply broken began. Those who cringed with memories of the gargoyled Mem Hall as they passed forbidding Boylston took heart that their chemistry courses would be in the spanking new Mallinckrodt Laboratory instead. Wandering by the Law School, they saw the rising additions to Langdell Hall which would eventually make it "the biggest Law library in the world" Right now, however, they were not particularly interested in the Law School.

The Hygiene Department announced to the Class the happy news that it would no longer have to take a Hygiene course which ended at Thanksgiving--it would end in January instead. The extension did little good, however: it was found in January that there was "a decided retrogression in the virility and quality of constitution of members of the Class of 1932 as compared to those of 1931."

Election Year

1928 was an election year, and the Class of '32 soon became embroiled in the not-too-enthusiastic politicking for a soft-spoken Quaker from California or a sidewalks-of-New-York-spoken Catholic from the Bowery. There were other suggestions offered; a senior from Hollis under the cryptic cognomen of "Number Ten" announced the formation of a King George-for-President Party, one of whose platform planks was to exchange Memorial Hall for the Houses of Parliament. The gargoyles growled.

Elsewhere, Franklin D. Roosevelt '04, candidate for governor of New York, spoke in the Union, was later swept into the Albany State House, and returned to the Yard in the spring to deliver the Phi Beta Kappa oration. Herbert Hoover was not so generous with his time; he was able to speak for only a few minutes on his way through the Square, but, in a CRIMSON-sponsored poll of the University, he was found to be the most popular candidate among Harvard men anyway.

Republican Corruption

Wise old Albert E. Hart '80, Eaton Professor of Government, solemnly announced that he was "strong for Hoover" because "the most important thing is that he is a real businessman and knows our economic situation perfectly." It is hoped that if Hoover had known the political situation at Harvard, he would not have been pleased: the Hoover-for-President Club was found to be padding its membership rolls and placing on it signatures of non-Hoover supporters. Although all of the political clubs were somewhat corrupt, it was found that the Republican Club did more padding than the others. At least one aspect of Harvard has not changed, anyway.

The Poll behind them, the freshmen returned to athletic pursuits. The team forgot its rout by the varsity and treat softly into the monolithic Stadium to beat a green Dartmouth team, 11 to 0, It was the first time a freshman team had played in the Stadium, and the '32 eleven was properly impressed. Harvard was changing, and the old and the comfortable had to give way to the broad vision of the mustachioed president in University Hall, who knew much and told little, and who had many new ideas for Harvard.

The Class of '32 also had ideas, and early in November it became the first freshman class to establish its own governing body. The nine representatives of the four freshman dorms met under the chairmanship of the Student Council, and elected W. Barry Wood as its head. The Council had just discovered that it had a $1,500 outstanding debt, and so it was happy to be able to do something to give it some favorable publicity.

Harkness Millions

November 9 dawned cold, and though the rain from the day before had stopped the overcast sky seemed to predict snow and possibly something else. The something else arrived, staring the freshman, the sophomore, the junior, the senior in the face as he opened his door and picked up his usually staid, quiet-looking CRIMSON. Black headlines leaped up at him: