Pandemonium Reigns in Memorial as 1941 Runs Gauntlet of Registration

9 o'clock: They've started.... Coming pretty slowly at first--who's going to be the first out? Here he is--Wesley Harrison Lowell, Jr. That red-haired, tough-looking baby almost beat him to it. Lowell was in such a rush he forget the name of his city on his Phillips Brooks card.

10 o'clock: Now they're really on their way. A steady stream from now until moon. "Have ya got any ink?" "God! Did you ever have to write so much!" "Is this what those exams here are like?" "What a noise that bell makes." "Would you like to pay this $5 now?" "Brother, if I had $3 now, I'd stand right up there and sing."

11 o'clock: Here's the peak crowd--four hundred through in just over an hour. Watch these solicitors along the back of Memorial and on the sidewalk. The way they yell and wave paper at everyone coming out they look just like--"Pardon me, chum; but is this place being picketed?" Well, you might think so; but John L. Lewis' son enrolled at Princeton today instead.

12 Noon: Very little let-up for lunch. Freshman naivete note; Solicitor: "Friend, you've got to have a pressing contract: can't get along without one." Freshman to his father: "Do my clothes really look as wrinkled as all that?"

All afternoon: "When do you think I'll be able to see my advisor?" "You'll be lucky if you get him before midyears; I never did." "What are November hours?" Only two men all day paid their Student Council contributions in silver; all the rest used paper. West of Chicago all you see are coins; cast of Chicago it's all paper.

Boston newspaper photographers climbed on ladders, lay on the floor and hung from the lights, in all effort to get original angles. The flash bulbs turned solemn Memorial into a scene resembling the opening session of a National Convention.