3 March 1943 Carnegie Evacuation
By Carol Potee
Once the government’s offer had been accepted and the decision made to move the men from Carnegie into Westover Hall to make way for the in-coming Air Corps Cadets, the school authorities and students moved with such confidence and rapidity as I have ever seen before.
At the first mass-meeting of dorm residents, committees were appointed to work out details of the moving. Two weeks ago today, the second mass meeting was held. No sooner had we heard the reports by various committees – such as Third-and-Second Floor Improvements, Co-Op, Switch Board, Water Tank and Showers – than a whole battalion of workmen moved in.
We encountered the first eight o’ clock Thursday morning. Plasterers, paperhangers, plumbers and carpenters worked constantly.
At last, exactly a week ago, a holiday was declared – rumor has it the boys threatened to strike for one until Officialdom (itself) recognized the necessity and made the proceedings legal. Wednesday morning breakfast found the masculine fashion parade decked out in its best Sunday-go-to-meeting overalls, with some of the girls as well later donning slacks. At eight, the Great Exodus began. Fortunately no Red Sea appeared to engulf the pursuing Army – the United States this time, not the Pharaohs. As might have been expected, Bill Hancy attempted to enact the role of Moses in directing the wanderers to the “land of milk and honey.”
In lieu of camels, the Exodusing Carnegietes loaded the college truck with furniture, trunks and heavier personal property. Once this had been deposited on the porch before Westover’s north entrance, leg power alone was available for the rest of the long haul to the third floor. At noon Miss Raine announced that manna was served in the dining hall and the ravenous Pilgrims fell to.
Of course the girls, in the role of the Caananites abandoning a portion of the Promised Land to the invading refugees had assisted in the Exodus. Consequently, some were hurt by a depreciating remark dropped by Dean Hunter at lunch. Later, however, he assured us that he fully appreciated and was grateful for the efforts of the Westover lassies who had trod back and forth the path of Carnegie to the (one-time) Skirt-Barn, he hadn’t meant that we were no help, he did not even begrudge a well-earned rest to those who had, in the balmy pseudo-spring sunshine, reclined luxuriously in the grass – well, that is, except for the fact that it diverted some of the boys from more serious pursuits.
It was the half-a-dozen girls, however, who had worked steadily, that felt bad over the decree at noon closing the third floor to women henceforth and forevermore (Amen!).
In order to accommodate the new Army boys, other changes in the arrangement of the plant were made. The Hornets’ Nest now occupies quarters in the Westover basement. Although the new store is more roomy, it is less attractive than the old location. And in the corner stands a nervous boiler which beats out an accompaniment to the Anvil Chorus twenty-four hours per day with a most nerve-wracking gusto. The Music Department vacated its quarters in Westover Hall for a house on Westwood Avenue and the engineering drawing equipment has been moved from the basement to share the fourth floor art studios.
P.S – Orchids to Freak Watson and Doug Drysdale – although town students, they played a stellar role “moving day” or rather “night.” They claim that Miss Himler usurped them away from the “Numberpleeuz” gal in the phone booth to “help a man move a little wardrobe upstairs.” This turned out to be three portable closets of gargantuan dimensions and had to be lugged out of the basement, clear around the building, back in and up to the second floor. The effort was not without compensation, however. With Miss Himler striding ahead of them like a lictor before the Roman consuls, and her cry of “Man on the Hall” echoing through the corridors of Paradise, these two suck… that is, we mean young men were astounded to note that instead of sending the femmes scurrying for shelter, the warning brought a goodly number out to have a look.
P.P.S. – Dean Wake, if you have finished calculating the cubic capacity of and relative density of all the College property, will you please return the yard-stick you borrowed from the Press Office. Douglas Drysdale’s mother wants him to bring it home as she uses it for smoothing out the bed covers.
