Word: maccracken
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...last week it suddenly came alive with young women in sports clothes hurrying along neat walks with bridge lamps, books, trash baskets, suitcases. Three hundred and seventy of them were freshmen. After supper they and 854 upperclassmen trooped into a red-roofed, Collegiate-Gothic chapel. There President Henry Noble MacCracken, his full, pink face looking some-what careworn, droned a mild message of greeting to the effect that while three-score years and ten is a respectable age for a human, it is mere childhood for an up & coming institution like Vassar...
Banned from Vassar's campus are alcoholic beverages, student-owned automobiles. But the young women are free to drink discreetly in designated Poughkeepsie saloons, smoke almost anywhere they please, stay out late at night, get married while still undergraduates. With President MacCracken determined to make responsible adults of them, they have attained almost complete self-government. Campus potentates are the president of Student's Association, the chief justice of Student's Court...
Surveying his Vassar domain, Henry Noble MacCracken, 53, can say: "Under favorable conditions and proper guidance we have found the American student to be characterized by self-control, reliability, persistence and tolerance." His tolerant charges in turn watch him play tennis with freshmen, dance with sophomores, romp in the annual costume baseball game between students & faculty, dress up to take the part of an ancient Greek citizen or Hindu prince in a college play-and find him pre-eminently worthy of respect, admiration, affection...
Vassar's Henry Noble MacCracken: The talk about the "brain trust" is all blather. It always was. People have always wanted brains in their rulers, when they could find them. It is not the brain trust that was the bugaboo. It is youth. What frightened Dr. Wirt was the discovery that he was 60 years old, and that his young secretary had more to do with government than he had. . . . He was not going to let on how old he was, so he raised the hue and cry over brains, and it was a false scent, as the folks...
While cocky Mr. MacCracken was getting his habeas corpus writ. Col. Brittin, gaunt and bespectacled Spanish-American and World War veteran who had learned to fly at 55, began his prison sentence in the dingy red stone District jail. The warden asked him what he could do. He said he knew clerking...