Monday morning. There was a report President Kennedy would attend The Game. There was a rumor Sinatra was bringing the Clan. (On Friday the White House announced the President would attend. Nothing was said about Sinatra.)
Leavitt & Peirce, tobacconists, displayed memorabilia of The Game in their left window. (The right window is traditionally reserved for crew notices.)
Gagnebin posted a picture of a Yale player in each Harvard locker with the caption, "Will the Sunday papers mention him—or you? It's up to you!"
Monday afternoon at 4:30 Ray Colucci of Ray's Barber Shop on Holyoke Street was caustic about Harvard students. "That's about the only thing they still care for," he said of The Game. "For other games, they don't go. It's like a record I don't want to hear anymore. I say, 'You going to the game Sat'day?' And they ask, 'Who's playing?' It all started to change with the war. They're pigs. Dirty necks, dirty clothes. The artistic touch is all gone. They say, 'Give me a medium haircut.' The hair is so long, how do you know what's medium? Now you go back to the '30s, a shave every day, a haircut every two weeks.
"I learned how to play the horses from a Harvard student. Could you imagine that now? My God, they used to want me to make book in here. Those kids knew how to live."
Two doors up, business was brisk at The Andover Shop. Charlie Davidson, the proprietor, said The Game was important even though Harvard students wouldn't openly admit it. "They'll order a jacket a couple of weeks beforehand and then say, 'Oh, I'd like to have that a week from Friday,'—and that's the start of the Yale weekend. It's very subtle. When we had the shop on Mount Auburn Street the band used to march by, playing hard enough to knock the windows in. But instead of turning around, the guy would say, 'I'd like a tie with a little more blue in it.' "
According to Davidson, Harvard plays down enthusiasm for football as smacking of the Big Ten. " Big Ten" is Harvard's way of saying corny. At Harvard, Davidson concluded, "It's all right to hold a rally for SANE or H. Stuart Hughes, but not for football."
Tuesday. Inconclusive lunch with six Radcliffe girls about The Game. "Freshmen [from Radcliffe] just die to go to every game," said one. "They'll even take blind dates. On the other hand, sophs and juniors are more blas� about it and don't care at all. Seniors seem to regain their interest—I mean, it's the last year—and then maybe they're also getting a little concerned about marriage."
Perhaps Radcliffe's mixed attitude toward The Game was best summed up by Faye Levine while crossing Anderson Bridge after the Brown game: "I'll go to The Game and I'll look forward to it, in a kind of unverbalized way."
Wednesday morning. The Gargoyle Undergraduate Tiddlywinks Society posted a notice in Phillips Brooks House: "It's so colossal only the mighty parlor of P.B.H. could hold it! So stupid that Sports Illustrated is covering it—Saturday only, Yale vs. the undefeated G.U.T.S. 10 a.m. Free."