OLD HOWARD'S STRIP QUEENS LURE '48 TO SCOLLAY SQUARE

As much a part of Harvard life as the New Lecture Hall, Scollay Square's favorite institution for the frustrated Harvard man, the Old Howard, is still a favorite gathering place for civilians and Navy men of the Yard.

A poll of the Senior Album several years ago showed that the average scholar in the Class of 1940 had attended three Boston performances (including one midnight show).

The questionnaire also showed that some 20 men had been present for over a dozen performances. One man was even an usher at the strip palace for six months, and a question mentioning the ideal location of the theatre (half-way between the Charlestown Navy Yard and Harvard Square) was entered on a Geography 1 exam.

'48 Ventures to Scollay

Untried, the Class of 1948, prone to the adventures of Greater Boston, has not yet fully reacted to the Scollay Square establishment, although some Freshmen are reported to have ventured there fearlessly already.

In 1841 Father Miller built his tabernacle there and won wide fame by convincing a large Boston congregation that: "The end of the world will surely be in Eighteen Hundred and Forty-Three." Unfortunately for the prophet, in 1844 he had to revise the calculation and his fickle flock deserted him. A group of prominent Bostonians bought the building and converted it into an opera house after changing the name to the "Howard Athenaeum." There, in 1846, genuine Italian opera had its New England premiere with a performance of Verdi's "Ernani," and Sheridan's "Rivals" played to toney audiences from Beacon Hill until a fire gutted the wooden auditorium.

After the days of the proud, heavily-gilded, soft-cushioned Athenaeum, the Howard sunk to playing cheap variety shows in 1868. Ever since the name Old Howard has been used. For years the blue-lighted anatomical solos have brought the crowds past the box office.

Once in a while the long arm of the law reaches out to hold up a slipping brassiere or a drooping G-string, and occasionally competition has threatened the leadership of the Old Howard, but never did its loyal following of beardless youth and balded age fall away.

Here, with a bottle of Scotch and large cigars, fresh-from-prep-school Yardlings matched their manliness against each other. And, quite different from Boston's more pretentious musical revues, dress was informal even on opening nights at the friendly little theatre off Scollay Square.