What a Downer!

What a weird cover for a football program. It is for the 1940 Dartmouth-Cornell game that was held here in Hanover on November 16th. The strange dolls on the cover represent Cornell cheerleaders and the drum major in a state of despair. The designer of the cover couldn't have gotten it any better, but the dismay of the Cornell faithful was not over a thrashing of the football team by Dartmouth--it was far stranger.

It was a defensive battle. The game remained scoreless until the fourth quarter when Dartmouth managed a field goal to go up 3-0. But the next drive, with only minutes to play, Cornell methodically marched down the field for a first and goal on the six-yard line. On first down, they moved it to the three, then on second down to the one-yard-line, and on third down to the one-foot-line. The quarterback called a timeout, but the team had none, so Cornell penalized five yards back to the five-yard line. Fourth down... and the pass into the end zone was knocked down by a Dartmouth defender. As the head linesman carried the ball out to the 20-yard line for Dartmouth to take over and run out the final three seconds, the referee overruled him and placed the ball on the five, Cornell ball. In the ensuing play Cornell scored to win the game. You can picture those cheerleaders on the cover perking up!

But... that was FIVE downs. Cornell got the hell out of town with a 7-3 victory. Protests and chaos overcame campus for two days until, on Monday, the head linesman sent a telegram to Lou Young, the captain of the Dartmouth football team, apologizing for his mistake, and Cornell conceded the game to Dartmouth. According to the yearbook, the campus "went all out in the greatest demonstration of  football enthusiasm the college has ever known." Those Cornell cheerleaders stooped in despair, the drum major despondent, just like the program prophesied.

We pulled this program from Charles "Stubbie" Pearson's papers, MS-895, Box 4, Folder 16. Stubbie is one of our favorite Dartmouth heroes--for more on him see our "March Madness" post.

Early Modern Cross-Dressing and its "Cure"

Early 17th-century London had a problem: cross-dressing (gasp!). Apparently, women in the city had taken to dressing like men and having their hair cut in manly styles. In 1620, in response to this trend, an anonymous author published a pamphlet called Hic Mulier: Or, The Man-Woman. Beginning with a  quotation from Virgil, "Non omnes possumus omnes," the tract purports to be a "medicine to cure the Coltish Disease of the Staggers in the Masculine-Feminines of our Times."

The author's strategy to win over his transvestite audience is dubious, at best: he addresses his comments to them directly, but immediately begins by telling them that they "have made Admiration an Asse; and fool'd him with a deformity never before dream'd of" and that they "have made [themselves] stranger things than ever Noah's Arke unladed." Even the title, Hic Mulier, is designed to underscore the socially discordant spectacle of a woman wearing breeches: Hic is the masculine form of the demonstrative pronoun, paired with the feminine noun Mulier. Things go downhill from there.

To see the other ways that the author fails to connect with his intended audience, come to Rauner and ask for Rare HQ1148 .H5 1620.