In one of the CANE Summer Sessions [at Dartmouth] back in the late eighties/early nineties, the group was housed away from the center of Hanover in some modern dorms toward the north end of the campus near the fraternities. As was our wont, some of us stayed up very late, chatting, mulling over ponderables, and partaking of the available grape juice.

We decided about 2 or 3 a.m. to stroll out and get some fresh air. We moved along Fraternity Row and were struck by the liveliness of the summer students still shouting and playing loud music at that hour of night. Agreeing that we frowned on such exuberance at that hour, we paused and thought about what to do. One in our midst, a senior member of our CANE Summer Institute faculty, let out an Indian war hoop that would have chilled the hearts and minds of any listeners. Indeed, silence followed; murmurs of conversation reached our ears as we were moving quickly away from Fraternity Row.

When we returned to our dorm, we heard no further sounds of party noise. The next morning, sitting at breakfast in Thayer near some undergraduates, we heard what happened after the war hoop . The students called the police to report a threatening disturbance; the police came, could find no villain, but were so distressed by the condition of the students and their incredible reports of the incident that they immediately closed down all of the parties on the street and upbraided the participants.

None of the students discussing the events of the night before were aware that we culprits were sitting nearby, listening innocently to their gripes.

-- Maureen Beck