Student Prince

To say that the Daily Princetonian neither looks nor sounds like the CRIMSON would be quite an understatement. In fact, except that both are student newspapers published at Ivy League colleges, there is virtually no common ground between them. They differ as to what stories are important, what tone is appropriate, and how the major editorial policies should be determined.

Previews of the weekend's dances are big news at Princeton--often occupying the same relative position on the Princetonian's front page as did the CRIMSON story last winter that President Kennedy had intervened concerning the "building on stilts." The CRIMSON treats student politicians with a tolerant and sometimes amused contempt; the Princetonian cooperates with their election campaigns and runs pictures of them all over the front page. The CRIMSON owns its own building, located a safe distance away from any other publications. The Prince pays $1100 a year for offices in the same building as those of the yearbook.

The CRIMSON is run on the principle of an oligarchy. The Daily Princetonian, on the other hand, is a sort of comradely dictatorship. Consider, for example, the matter of editorial policy. At 14 Plympton St. a topic which seems likely to arouse controversy inside the paper, such as whether or not the University should accept NDEA loans, or build bomb shelters, is discussed in a board meeting, where heated argument lasting as long as an hour often precedes the selection of a policy, by majority vote.

Princetonian chairman Lester E. Munson, Jr. writes virtually all the editorials for his paper. Occasionally there is a policy vote, but in general Munson is able to proceed on the assumption that he "knows how the other guys feel about this."

The oddity of this method of policy determination is that it works. The Daily Princetonian is not in a perpetual state of revolt over Munson's editorials--he usually is correct in guessing what the rest of the Princetonian board thinks on a given issue. He could not do this at Harvard, but then, Princeton is different from Harvard.

Princeton fosters an uncanny conformity among its undergraduates, evident from the moment a visitor walks onto the campus. They dress in one of the two Nassau costumes--tweed or dungarees and old sweater. They share a quiet enthusiasm for Princeton. It is this conformity which allows Munson to run his paper the way he does.

A consideration of the attitudes of the entire student body explains other things about the Princetonian. Dance weekends are big news simply because the average undergraduate is preoccupied with them. Unlike Harvard, Princeton is a lot farther than an M.T.A. ride from theaters and concerts. There is no Radcliffe just up the street, and no Wellesley 15 minutes out Route 16. The football weekend is about all the Princeton man has outside of an occasional splurge on a trip to New York.

Thus, the Princetonian can't really help itself. Even if the editors wanted to, and since they themselves are undergraduates it is difficult to see why they should, the Princetonian would have difficulty opposing the wave of enthusiasm greeting each party weekend at Princeton.

The Daily Princetonian's disdain for abstract education policy articles and its predilection for student reaction are other examples of the same type of phenomenon. The editors alone are not responsible for the Princetonian--the credit and blame lie far deeper, in the forces shaping the college itself.