Mr. Vellucci's Gauntlet

When Councillor Al Vellucci proposed last week that Harvard be separated from Cambridge, his helpful suggestion was greeted by laughter. If Harvardians would consider this proposal for a Vatican City seriously, we would discover the limitless possibilities of a Free Harvard. With perhaps the highest per capita concentration of brain in any community in the world, a genuine cyclotron, and a private forest, Harvard could undoubtedly be the most powerful and influential political organ in the world. In view of Harvard's immense resources (the nation's second largest library, glass flowers, and Seymour Harris) it should not only separate from Cambridge, but announce its city-stateship.

By becoming a city-state, by virtue of our power, we automatically become a major nation, with a manifest destiny to conquer not only Radcliffe, but also Central Square, M.I.T., and eventually Katie Gibbs. Should the necessity arise, we might also (reluctantly) take over the rest of the world. Obviously, to accomplish these grand schemes Free Harvard would require a strong political organization. Fortunately, we have such a long tradition of sheer autocracy under deans and other supernumeraries that we cannot fail to be a powerful state. Luckily the University has not been afflicted with any of this unhealthy milksop Student Council Democracy stuff.

Many short-sighted individuals, however, might fear totalitarianism. They can cite Dean Leighton's power to refuse entry to people from gauche geographical areas. In a Free Harvard the good Dean could control immigration completly. Similarly, there is some fear that Free Harvard would automatically become a Theocracy, under the sway of President Pusey and a College of Cardinals (Red Kellogg, P. Tillich, etc.). Actually, a national church would be beneficial. For one thing, there would be a lot more pomp, of which there is too little in these meagre days.

Free Harvard might well be considered a constitutional government. It certainly qualifies under Bagehot's criteria, for Harvard has both "dignified" parts (the President, the Lampoon, the Advocate, and the final clubs) and "efficient" parts (John Monro, the Soc Rel department, Student Council, and the Harvard Times Republican). There is also a natural judiciary in the Housemasters and a Parliament, with the faculty playing Lords and the Student Council playing Common.

As for a cabinet, the new state would boast perhaps the best Department of Health, Education, and Welfare known. John Finley could head the Department of Labor and Steve Aaron would become curator of a Bureau of National Culture. The mint would present some problems, since a new currency would be necessary. A picture of Dean Bundy, however, could adorn the one dollar bill, Master Perkins the five, and John R. Thompson on the hundred. The thousand would remain bland until someone donates a new theatre. The revenue problem would be solved by a toll road on Mass. Avenue, a sales tax on the Bick, the Waldorf, Elsie's and Cahaly's, and a Casino to be instituted in Memorial Hall.

The main problem, of course, what with border depredations by gentleman of the town, would be that of defense. The crew, with Samuel Eliot Morison as admiral, could be recruited from the clubs; ROTC units could merge into a combined army and air force. With these stalwarts at the force, the new nation could conduct a police action to secure the vital Brattle Corridor to Radcliffe.

Under the impetus, of this attack, Harvard Apathy would die. Caldwell Titcomb's baroque national anthem, and the Ibis, national bird, would lead the Nation from lethargy to triumph. E unibus plenum.