But the 4 to 1 ratio of men to women did not produce a much higher ratio at The Crimson, nor did The Crimson seem inclined to lead the way for the rest of the country by choosing a woman president. Two women have achieved the position of managing editor, but women still exist as a minority at The Crimson today.
The paper has tried to re-evaluate its role over the past few years, but some women editors have said that the building exudes a male-dominated atmosphere.
The paper also has a poor representation of blacks, a situation which has perplexed the staff. Some blacks have said that The Crimson, with its predominantly white staff, discriminates against blacks, a statement which the paper will deny vigorously.
Back in the thirties, the paper was much more formal. Well-known Marxist economist Paul M. Sweezy '31 was president in that era, but a glance at the paper during his year will give no clue to his later dedication to socialism.
But the thirties meant hard times for The Crimson, as it meant hard times for most businesses. The Depression cut deeper into the paper's capital, although the Harvard community learned little from The Crimson's columns about breadlines or CIO organizing drives.
The paper seemed to take a literary turn, as if to say that the hard news of the day was too depressing. The editorial page appeared day after day with editorials against initiation of the House plan (all upperclassmen live in one of 13 Houses near the river or in the Radcliffe Quad). And just when finances were at their nadir, The Crimson found itself with its first real competition since the 19th century.
The Harvard Daily Journal almost succeeded in taking over The Crimson's place in the University by taking advantage of the paper's complacency. But the appearance of the new paper brought out the dormant aggressiveness of Crimson editors, and a full-fledged war with The Journal ensued.
Well, just as in the TV shows, you all know the ending. The Crimson won, but the competition proved a revitalizing force. It propelled the paper into the forties, when a world war again sapped the paper's strength.
The Crimson found itself unable to continue throughout the war, and in 1943, the Harvard Service News appeared. This offspring served as a caretaker organization until the editors returned from Europe--returned for the battle against McCarthyism and the complacency of the fifties.
And then the sixties came, and the paper's politics drifted slowly leftward until The Crimson published an editorial on October 15, 1969 that made headlines in Paris--"Support the NLF."
During the late sixties, the paper found itself caught between the revolution and the reporting of the revolution. Some Crimson editors did both, while others criticized this lack of objectivity.
Into the seventies, the paper has reasserted the objectivity vital to a credible newspaper, but it has maintained its radical editorial stance--which is to the left of most Harvard students.
Yet throughout its history, The Crimson has been primarily people. From Art Hopkins, the linotypist in the forties and fifties who became a Crimson institution, to today's shop foreman Pat Sorrento, the paper has been run by dedicated individuals.
And a brief history of The Crimson would be incomplete without reference to Crimson parodies of the Lampoon, Harvard's humor magazine (and vice versa), or 23-2, the mythical score that is the margin of victory in every athletic contest participated in by the paper.
But if we tell you everything (and we'll try), you'll stop reading us. And if you've read this far, you'll remember the motto of The Magenta: "I won't philosophize. I will be read."