Morningside Melodrama

No scene in the saga of the Rover Boys surpassed in tension a scene enacted last week in the editorial office of the Spectator, undergraduate daily of Columbia University. At his desk was Editor Reed Harris, a dark youth of studious mien but tall, well setup. Around him stood some of his associates. Into the room, glowering, strode burly Ralph Hewitt, captain and quarterback of the football team, closely followed by even burlier William McDuffee, the team's centre. Ralph Hewitt had a copy of the Spectator in his hand. He was smoldering with anger.

"This is a direct reflection on all Columbia football players!" he growled. "If Spec ever publishes another article about the Columbia football team which appears in the downtown papers, I'll take it upon myself to beat you up!"

"Count me in on that!" cried Centre McDuffee.

"You're big enough to play football," continued Captain Hewitt, "and you went out there and found you didn't have the guts!"

Glowering menacingly at other Spectator men, Centre McDuffee said: "We'll beat you all up!"

Editor Harris (6 ft. 1 in. 210 Ibs.) used to play on high-school and freshman football teams. A heart ailment stopped him. He replied to the Varsity captain: "Your outburst is not going to stop us, and furthermore we will print anything we see fit on any subject."

There was no beating-up, and soon after the scene at the Spectator office, Columbia's footballers were forbidden to broach the subject publicly again. But Morningside Heights did not stop talking. Cause of the excitement was a contribution by Editor Harris to the perennial, nationwide discussion of emphasized football. He had written that he would "trade the whole Columbia football team for a nice little place in the country with cows and chickens.'' He had charged that football has become "a semiprofessional racket operated largely for the amusement of the alumni and the general public . . . until probably 80% of the men who play college football in the bigger institutions are semiprofessional athletes hired by assistant coaches who make annual pilgrimages to prep schools." He had urged that the game be returned to the students. If not, "let honest professionalism replace furtive hypocrisy."

Among the first retorts to Editor Harris had been that of Columbia's Head Coach Lou Little, who, having lately broken a vertebra, watches his team from a swivel chair: "If most student affairs were run as cleanly as football, there'd be little to worry about. I've been through college myself, and I know the graft connected with college publications, for instance, is on such a scale that it would put Tammany Hall to shame."

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