Tale of Two Types

Last Saturday night, there was social tension on Mount Auburn Street. Flushed from their rooms by the mild weather, two species of students rubbed shoulders. One type was headed for a dance in one of the Houses, escorting beautiful women. They were the haves. They traveled on polished shoes or open convertibles. But roaming the street in knots of four and five, scuffed of shoe and sloppily dressed, were the have-nots.

The have-nots eyed the haves with as much jealousy and hunger as ever a swarm of 18th century peasants peered through the bars of the Monseigneur's iron fence. Just as the peasants' eyes followed the fresh beefsteak from the hands of the leering Monseigneur into the jaws of his dogs, so the have-nots watched the haves promenade their lovelies on Mount Auburn Street.

That was only the first mild spring Saturday evening. There will be more. The tension will ripen with the weather, and it will not be surprising to discover some day that a group of have-nots has overturned a convertible, beaten its male occupants and ravished the women.

At Harvard, sad to say, there will always be haves and have nots. The only way to prevent tension is to separate them, especially during the difficult hours of the early evening. Parietal rules being what they are, the haves are forced to come out for air at eight o'clock. It's not fair to ask them to use the steam tunnels or the central kitchen tunnels to get their dates to House dances.

Yet it is equally unfair to expect the have-nots to remain in their rooms all night. Fresh air is a palliative for frustration. Have-nots, thought, could easily stay off the streets from eight to eight-thirty. And even if they do happen to be out when couples head for the Houses, let them turn away and think of that wonderful day when they too join the satisfied ranks of the haves.