College Loyalty

Advantages and Disadvantages of Being an Alumnus

GEORGE S. CHAPPELL

THESE are the days of College Class-days, Re-unions, Commencements and Graduation Exercises. Alumni, all over the country, are flocking hack to the arms of their various Alma Maters, their hearts alight with the enthusiasm which has been naturally bred and carefully cultivated. It is a beautiful feeling. There is something fine and loyal and idealistic about all this devotion to a great, o'ershadowing influence of which one is but an infinitesimal part. Despite the animadversions of Messrs. Edison and Ford, one of the advantages of being a college graduate is the pleasant knowledge that you are one.

My own college horizon is tinged with the blue of Yale whence I graduated, magnu cum rowdy, more than two decades ago. Naturally, blue is my favorite color, the elm my favorite tree and the bull-dog my king of beasts. The mere pleasure of contemplating a violet, an elm-tree or a bull-dog completely repudiates all college critics. When I see the three in combination, as I sometimes do, I am speechless with delight. Again, frogs give me that peculiarly intense joy possible only to the sons of Elihu, for our college cry has its origin from the classic batrachians of Aristophanes. But 1 could go on indefinitely with these spiritual and mental pleasures which are brought to mind during these late Spring days.

In a more tangible way there are numerous practical advantages inherent in one's college fellowship, such as the ability to obtain seats for intercollegiate athletic contests, the big foot-ball games and the races at Poughkeepsie or New London. Then there is the college club with its many conveniences, its luncheons, smokers, baths, unlimited supply of free notepaper and quiet library where one may sleep without fear of interruption. Further ramifications of the college society system give one the right to wear some particularly giddy hatband or bit of jewelry—insignia which is only for the elect. All these things, I repeat, are very pleasant.

The Other Side

BUT I must admit that there are definite disadvantages as well, disadvantages which actually increase in proportion to one's college loyalty. It is of these, mainly, that I would speak, for I think that perhaps they have never before been collectively expressed. They are chiefly financial. I refer to the high cost of college cheer.

Like automobiles and white flannel trousers it is not so much the initial cost as the up-keep. We graduate with a fine spirit of college loyalty which has usually been presented to us by indulgent parents. Alas, we soon find ourselves in the position of the small town with the large library which it cannot afford to maintain. I recall that certain thrifty communities politely refused the offer of a Carnegie Memorial on the ground that they could not afford to be educated in that way. I am not sure but that many college graduates find themselves in the same boat. They ought to be endowed. In my own case I am positive about it.

Looking back over the calendar months of the year I cannot recall one which has not brought with it a special appeal for funds for some worthy object. It has become so that I know at a glance the touch of the University typewriter. Through the enclosing walls of the long official envelope emanates a chill due to the anticipation of an urgent request to come across, with which I cannot possibly comply. All this is a terrific strain on one's loyalty. If it would only crack! But it doesn't. There is the pain of it.

First and foremost among my own spiritual obligations comes the Alumni Fund. This is really a part of the University itself, the definite, economic partnership between students, faculty, corporation and alumni. It is necessary and beautiful; I know that when I read the annual letter, signed by the President, I am overcome with anguish and remorse. The needs are so many and my means so small. In my mind's eye I picture the campus in ruins —or falling to decay, the recitation halls bursting with an oversupply of pupils, the windows forced out like the elbows of an old coat. This conjures up a pitiful vision of the teachers, tottering to their classes, clad in rags, faint from hunger, their families starving for bread and an increase of salary. Believe me, back of this morbid exaggeration, is much truth. Of that, too, I am certain.

On top of the annual report comes a special, personal letter from my Class fund agent. This is of the cheery sort, even harder to bear than the pathetic. It begins, " Here we are again, back at the old stand!" and goes on to say, "I am relying absolutely on you to hold the old class-standard right up where it has always been." This sort of thing invariably reduces me to tears.

The University to which I pay my allegiance fosters an extension in far-off China, which has its own peculiar and pressing needs. From time to time I am seriously worried as to whether or not I am doing my full duty toward the mild-eyed Mongolians who, I am assured, are thirsty for occidental training. This phase of the Eastern situation makes me well-nigh desperate. The mournful cry of uncounted millions of Chinese rings on my anguished ears. Shall I be the one to doom them to perpetual coolie-dom or deny them a future above the estate of laundry-man? With sorrow I must admit that, up to date, it would so seem.

Closer at home and, therefore, less easily put aside is the call of one's college fraternal order. Plans for the new building "are now completed" and all that is needed to put the beloved Society where it belongs is the raising of the trilling sum of $250,000. Every man is expected, nay, demanded to do his duty. By some occult method of divination the chairman of the Building Fund Committee has arrived at a definite figure which he thinks each individual ought to give. Nothing has ever flattered me more than some of these estimates.

Supplementing the general Alumni Fund is the local organization, in my case that of Westchester County. In addition to small yearly dues and an occasional banquet these chapters support numerous scholarships by which worthy high-school boys are assisted through college. The idea of not doing one's bit in this good work is odiously distasteful but it is amazing how swiftly the months pass after signing along the dotted line and the morning's mail brings the notice that "your annual scholarship pledge is now due. " Of course you had completely forgotten it. It is just one more little weight added to the camel's back.

Occasionally I have calls at my office which show how closely other collegians are keeping in touch with me. When a name on a card is brought to my desk with the information that the bearer represents a business matter in connection with New Haven I immediately experience the old sinking sensation. On one occasion my visitor was an elderly frock-coated gentleman who from top-hat to lacquered shoes breathed distinction and affluence. "Aha," thought I, "a member of the Faculty, no less, probably come to offer me a degree." But no; the frock-coat cleverly concealed a panoramic, forty-volume book-prospectus which, unfolded, spread like a gigantic accordion over my entire establishment. The text dealt with the history of our country and was personally vouched for by leading college authorities. It seemed an act of shameful disloyalty to refuse my signature but, pale with the strain of the moment, I succeeded in so doing.

A Touching Intimacy

AT other times I have been cornered by pinkcheeked youths, fresh from the academic groves, who felt sure that I would like to have an advertisement in, or at least a subscription to, this or that undergraduate magazine. Indeed, so I should. I can imagine nothing nicer than a neat card announcing "George S. Chappell, Architect and Author. Bungalows while you wait. Try out Snappy Short Stories, the Old Eli Quality." But this would not be ethical and, on such occasions, I am nothing if not ethical.

As the years flit on toward my twenty-fifth reunion I am faced with the appalling knowledge that at that time my class will be expected to make a stupendous gift to the University. This has become a hallowed custom. I may not live until then. There are moments, when, as I consider the hundreds of things I should like to give to, that I feel as if I should not last through the day. The expense of educating my own son is a tremendous complication. Am I doing right in leading him into this same coil of circumstance? There is a fearful question. Right or wrong the spirit of loyalty will doubtless lead me to strain every nerve to give him the same advantages—and obligations—that I have had. It is at least my sincere hope that ere he graduates I mav have been able to set in motion the functioning of an entirely new fund which I know will appeal to thousands. This is to be known as The Yale Alumni Loyalty Fund, the interest of which shall be devoted to paying the subscriptions of graduates of proven loyalty the world over. Just how the principal will be raised I have not decided; probably by assessing wealthy and disloyal alumni—or perhaps the Rockefeller Foundation will help us out.

In any case the thing must be done. Otherwise, if I am able to struggle along until ray Twenty-fifth, I shall return to New Haven where, after three days of violent loyalty, I shall give a long cheer with "Bankrupt" on the end of it—and then end it all.