meeting, and in a letter to the class there was a threat of withholding
faculty recommendations to employers, "because the sentiments of your
publication reveal such a want of manliness, sincerity and courtesy." The
next three classes gave up the idea of a class book, but it was revived in
the "Log of '88" a wholly innocuous publication that did not displease the
faculty. The class of 1890 confined its desire for a souvenir to a book of
pictures.
Then came the Aftermath, "A Log of the Class of 1891." All the pent-up
resentment about schoolmaster attitudes was let loose, chiefly in
pictorial form. There was a sketch of Boynton Hall, "The Jail," flying a
pennant, "The Students be damned!" There was a picture of Boynton St.,
then Faculty Row, which was labeled "Via Assinorum." Dr. Fuller was
caricatured leading the singing of the famous chapel hymn, No. 44, "Let us
with a gladsome mind . . ." and as a spy in sneakers treading the
corridors of Boynton Hall.
Five members of the class, editors of the book, received on the
commencement platform, in lieu of a sheepskin, a white envelope containing
an announcement that their diplomas had been withheld because of the
objectionable book. Four other members of the class were also refused the
degree because of a final failure. Few other incidents in the history
aroused student resentment to such a white heat. All of these nine men,
some of them the most prominent in the class, received their diplomas
later in the summer and went forth to make creditable, and a few,
distinguished careers.
The only subtle reference in L'Expose of '92 was its dedication to the
"Athletic Spirit of the Faculty." The Aftermath Of '93, Tale of the Goat,
went a step farther, being dedicated "To the next President of the
Institute." It was also guilty of publishing -the faculty list with blank
lines in the space where the President's name should have appeared,
supposedly because Dr. Fuller had requested the editors
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