An Open Invitation

By Alston B. Ramsay | Monday, February 16, 2004

Don: "Front page—column 1—rush it down to press, and I mean RUSH!"

Larry: "Yes, sir."

Don: "And keep women off your mind while you're on the job."

Larry: "Sorry, Chief, but you know how Carnival upsets a man's equilibrium."

—Winter Carnival, 1939

Dearest ladies of New England,

Once billed by National Geographic as the "Mardi Gras of the North," Dartmouth's Winter Carnival begins on Thursday. Unfortunately, the fete has been in a somewhat steady decline ever since the coming of co-education in the late 1970s. The presence of female outsiders, I'm sad to say, just doesn't hold the same allure it once did.

But never fear, the last couple years have seen a true resurgence. The snow sculpture, a lanky forty-foot cat roosting on a hat, is nearing completion, and Psi U's infamous keg jump will return after a three-year sabbatical. Additionally, alcohol-induced carousing and top-notch winter athletics will be on tap all weekend—as usual. Yet, Hanover's population will not double this weekend as it did for decades on end.

We at The Dartmouth Review are saddened by Carnival's decline. In this spirit, we would like to cordially invite you and all your friends to fair Hanover to enjoy a weekend of festivities unparalleled in these frigid climes.

Winter Carnival was once a magnet for college girls and stars alike. The 1939 filming of Winter Carnival included F. Scott Fitzgerald as a screenwriter. Fitzgerald, whose career was in a tailspin, was fired after five days spent binge-drinking and merrymaking in Dartmouth fraternities. After his ill-fated visit, he took a full two weeks to recuperate—in a hospital. Not willing to fall prey to the same trap, Mae West, the bawdy 1930s Hollywood actress, spurned repeated invitations to attend. She finally responded with a wire:

Boys, college men are my weakness. But snowmen are out of my line. I take my sleigh-rides in sedans. Regards.

The crestfallen men eventually put the slight behind them and moved on with their lives. Like our earlier counterparts, many of us will experience our last Winter Carnival this weekend—our final chance to go out with a bang. Perhaps we older, more cynical gentlemen desire more variety than typical frat-crawling provides. Or maybe, just maybe, we want to reclaim the glory of Carnivals past.

But how can glory exist without female companionship? Roger S. Brown, esteemed 1948 President of the Dartmouth Outing Club, eloquently explained that "Dartmouth likes company over Winter Carnival, especially if it is cute and wears skirts."

Women contemplating our invitation should be forewarned: According to Holiday Magazine's 1948 December issue, "Hanover climate is as capricious as a Smith girl on a Dartmouth sleigh ride." I am loath to speculate on the validity of this assertion—for I have never been on a sleigh-ride with a girl from Smith—but I will support the sentiment. The weather here can be merciless. But we'd never let you get this far without ample knowledge of the risks. The 1922 Carnival invitation to women warned of the cold:

We saw you at last year's carnival stand in the snow in pumps, silk stockings, and a fur coat. We were sorry, and you did not look as happy as you tried to. SO remember that there will be SNOW, and that you will have to stand in it. That it will be COLD, and that a muff is sometimes a nuisance. We wish you to look pretty and warm, not expensive and cold.

Pretty and warm, indeed.

But on a more serious note, Winter Carnival wardrobes should not be driven solely by pragmatic considerations. After all, the Queen of Snows must embody the spirit of Carnival—and a keen sense of fashion, to boot. "Girls, keep away from ski pants. The Lord never meant women to wear pants," admonished 1920s etiquette maven Emily Post. Dartmouth men had more practical—possibly self-serving—advice: "Bring some long red woolen underwear." Yes, attire can make or break a date; as written in a 1946 issue of the Boston Globe, "Every girl strives to impart that wind-blown, 'peaches and cream,' outdoor-type appearance." The Boston Herald, one year later, praised the Queen for her haute couture:

Clad in a dove-gray ski costume with black pony boots, Miss [Gwen] Latour, five feet seven inches of femininity, gained the august nods of the judges.

If fashion isn't your cup of tea, what else does Winter Carnival have in store, you ask? Why, let's not forget the long-standing fraternity and dormitory snow-sculpting contest. According to one newspaper, the 1946 winner was to "receive a cash reward from Chesterfield cigarettes and a keg of beer. Competition [was] fierce." Nine years later, Dartmouth witnessed one of the most poignant and touching sculptures ever made: Sextopus. The Daily Eagle described the "grotesque" first-prize winner as

an octopus wearing a tam o' shanter and wicked grin, whose inclinations are denoted by a whiskey bottle held in one tentacle and a female figure in the other. Unfortunately, the location, outside the dormitory, North Fayerweather hall, is inconspicuous.

Of course, inconspicuous has never been a hallmark of Winter Carnival. In most places, bitter winter winds drive people indoors, but here in Hanover, the gales have the opposite effect.

So hop in your car, and start heading north. When you arrive, we'll fill your hearts with mirth, and your mugs with warming elixirs. We'll breathe in the chill air together, and we'll wile away the weekend in the midst of Dartmouth's famed Winter Carnival.

The Mardis Gras of the North beckons with her slender, icy finger...

Kind Regards,
Alston B. Ramsay

An Open Invitation

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