Published October 9, 2009.

THE MASTHEAD
Editor-in-Chief: James H. Wang
Publisher: Isabel S. Murray
Executive Editor: Amanda R. McNally
Managing Editor: Soo Jeong Kim

Read this issue’s articles!

Published October 9, 2009.

It’s 10 o’clock at night, and you’re beginning to wonder why you thought it’d be such a great idea to walk to FoCo alone. You pull your sweatshirt higher around your neck in a futile attempt to block the cold wind and glance around the deserted campus. You know Hanover is possibly the safest town in America, but you can’t help but a feel a little creeped out by the lack of human life. To top it all off, you’re sure you’ve been hearing the eerie beat of techno music playing somewhere in the night…

Suddenly, a flash of red in the distance. You stop dead in your tracks, staring intently at the Green, positive that you must have been hallucinating. But after a moment’s scrutiny you realize that your eyes are not deceiving you—you really are seeing a luminescent red light saber twirling violently through the air. You pick up your speed, eager to know who could possibly be performing at this hour. You’re finally close enough to see the source of this glowing dance when you stop dead in your tracks again.

The man before you looks as if he were torn from the pages of a comic book. He wears a traditional superhero getup: tight pants, a close-fitting shirt, gloves, and a marvelous gold and black cape. But his mask is unlike anything you have ever seen before. Golden spikes radiate out from an inscrutable white face; jewels and pearls dangle from the chin and the points of each barb. He is, without a doubt, the most random thing you have encountered at Dartmouth thus far.

No matter how your initial experience with Johnathan Recor occurs, it is undeniably a memorable event. We had our most remarkable Recor experience one night when walking back to our dorm. He was walking towards the Green with Matrix Man—who has now been identified as ’13 Dylan Calhoun—when we stopped to ask about the man behind the mask.

He informed us that he wasn’t actually called Light Saber Man (he prefers to go by Johnathan), and that he was a first year graduate student studying creative writing. Giddy with excitement, we gushed, “So what’s your inspiration for doing this?” Without missing a beat, he simply replied, “Love.”

The purpose behind Johnathan’s active theatrical performance is to physically convey his “life experiences as a developing human being in search of love.” For Johnathan, art as a piece hanging from a wall is simply not enough to convey his emotions. His goal is to create a timeline of sorts, one that describes the deep emotions he has felt at various times during his life, and to display, record, and embrace them in an open kind of journal, one that we each can look upon and empathize with. He also wants others to recognize the “importance of acknowledging the love that every individual carries deep within themselves; the love that every living creature possesses from within, and from this, being able to share this compassion among all you come across to help improve the conditions of our society, world, and humanity.”

Since our initial nighttime rendezvous, we have met Johnathan several times both in and out of costume. The disparity between the man in the mask and the real Johnathan is almost startling: the intense energy and violence that he radiates whilst dancing with his light saber are nowhere to be found in the quiet man who ordered Smiley Fries at our EBAs lunch.

Without the mask to hide his facial expressions, he is a remarkably genuine and open person. His willingness to show his true self is refreshing in a world where people so often hide their deepest nature in order to gain the favor of their peers.

On Facebook, Johnathan comments on how difficult it is to “unlock and express the vulnerabilities of [his] heart and soul for all to see, hear, and judge.” As cliché as it may seem, he wears his heart on his sleeve whether he is in costume or not, and he remains an open individual despite the criticism he has received over time.

Although he was initially discouraged because his performances were often misinterpreted—one girl reported hearing that the “Sun God” would try to abduct you if you got too close—Johnathan is now “more confident than ever that the quest in pursuing [his] dreams, despite any and all adversity, is the true path to [his] enlightenment as a student, artist, and human being.” Johnathan is calm and cordial in response to detractors as he thinks that everyone is entitled to his or her own opinion. This simple characteristic is what makes him so strong as an individual. This project is something he believes in; it’s his passion and his art.

Johnathan’s theatrical endeavors have evolved from a fusion of interests he’s developed over the years. His father introduced him to mixed martial arts at the age of fourteen after noting how disciplined Johnathan was as a child.

Despite ten years of experience—and a third degree black belt—he has only just begun to integrate martial arts into his everyday life. In high school, he dissembled toys, and mixed their various pieces into his own creations (think Sid from Toy Story). After producing an amalgamation of different pieces of toys, Johnathan would feel satisfied and content with his creation. He says it was almost as if the toys he made helped him “becom[e] what [he] was making,” growing bigger and better. His love for martial arts and model making has transcended into a deeper cause. His desire to integrate his passion for mixed martial arts, dramatic theatre, and creation have led him to his current mode of artistic physical expression.

Johnathan‘s performance is also about appreciating the joy and levity of everyday life. He tries to impress this light-heartedness on others by interacting with them through dance and various performances. He is starting up a new daytime project to complement his typical nighttime light-saber shows. He plans to gather a group of about 10 members who will perform across campus in a mixed martial arts fashion, interacting respectfully and playfully with stressed out students. He wants people to loosen up and have fun amid the rigors of both undergraduate and graduate school course loads.

While others may refer to him as the “Sun God,” “Light-Saber-Man,” “Big Love,” or even “Sparkle-Face,” he will be the first to politely introduce himself to you as Johnathan, because the character he is portraying is simply himself.

His Theatre-on-the-Walk Program is a physical representation of his innermost feelings, an embodiment of something you can see and become a part of. His art is something that is alive and real, and that is what makes it so unique. We should all take a lesson from Johnathon and not be so hasty to judge an individual who follows his passions as far as they take him. More people should pursue their desires while maintaining spirits as bright and sparkling as Johnathan Recor’s gold mask.

Class divide is something that we don’t like to talk about at Dartmouth. It works invisibly, dividing our campus into categories we didn’t even know we fell into. Over half of our fellows here at Dartmouth pay full fare for their tuition. The rest receive anything from a few loans to fully covered financial aid.

I’m not making a judgment call. This isn’t meant to be a populist rant of the haves against the have-nots. Being affluent enough to afford a Dartmouth education is not something these students have chosen. In fact, their tuition money helps pay for so many of the great programs here—and, in part, the financial aid of the rest. But these aren’t even the main reasons why we shouldn’t judge in this regard, favorably or unfavorably. The main reason is that they are fellow students. They are not “they.” They are part of us—part of the Dartmouth community.

We all go to class. All of us pretty much eat the same grease-filled food at FoCo and at the Hop. We all walk across the Green, and in the spring, we all wade across the melted snow. These are things that bind us together. They help define us as members of the Dartmouth community. We dwell on a college campus that grants all of us the opportunity to have our voices heard in the classroom and community as students—as peers.

But despite all of this, our Dartmouth experiences are not all the same. Who exactly are the ones normally participating in Greek life or SA? And who normally mans the DDS stations, or the library help desks? You can always point to exceptions to the rule, but these questions retain their importance.

“But our house has this person who isn’t able to pay but gets scholarships from alumni and our house fund and…” say some fraternity and sorority chairs. I’m sure every house has some sort of system that attempts to make Greek life more inclusive, to a greater or lesser extent, but it doesn’t counter the systemic problems in our social life derived from these types of organizations.

Social and house dues will always deter the potential low-income rushee to some extent. Even though there are many “scholarships” or “extra duties” that can cover these social dues and house dues, how many students want to be second-class citizens in their own house? Maybe we don’t feel that a few extra duties during parties or a few more cleaning rounds in the dingy frat bathroom separates us. Do we really pass no judgment on those forced to do it? And do the students who perform these “extra duties” in order to participate in Greek life really feel no different?

Even if we believe we are somehow beyond judging along those lines, that still doesn’t solve the fact that there are still many low-income students who decide not to rush in the first place. They’re busy in the library, FoCo, Topside, Alumni Gym, or wherever they work to pay for Dartmouth. Many balance their jobs, their classes, and pong very well.

Others are not so lucky. One of my friends worked at both FoCo and the Hood Museum Shop, moving from one job to another to another all day long. While sitting in that store that no one goes into, he did his homework or played with the trinkets no one bought. And for the rest of the day, he gave students their “chicken,” “dinner special,” or “that,” behind the glass at FoCo, slopping our wet, oily meals onto plastic containers and dinner plates. Even if he wanted to participate in Greek life, would he have been able to find the time?

Maybe his case is rare. But it’s far more common than we acknowledge.

So after all of this, you’re probably asking, “Now what?” Well, now that we see this problem, this issue, this thing that we loathe to speak about, what’s my grand solution?

How do I propose that we ameliorate the situation so that this division disappears and Dartmouth truly becomes an idyllic community?

Outreach, perhaps. More alternative social spaces. Maybe one of the half-dozen solutions that have been bouncing around for so long. But they’re also the point and the problem. We have potential alleviations, if not solutions to our divisions here at Dartmouth. The problem is they have gained little to no ground.

It isn’t the incompetence of SA or the hostility of the fraternities or even the glacial pace of the college administration. These may contribute in part to the lack of a solution, but these are certainly not the biggest obstacles. The greatest enemy is our silence on the issue.

We aren’t going to eliminate income differences, or for that matter, the greater hardships faced by some less affluent students. We aren’t going to make us all the same. And, at least for diversity on our campus, we shouldn’t become mirror images of each other.

However, there are still divisions between haves and have-nots—the elites and the non-elites. It’s more than the groups we choose to be with. The tragedy is that these groups are chosen for us. In a college where we are supposed to learn and work without class, race, gender, or wealth barriers, we should strive to close these gaps and make us a community instead.

Waiting for Godot premiered at the Hop on October 1st, treating those who attended to a masterpiece. The play, performed by the Classical Theater of Harlem, analyzes human existence and questions man’s true purpose on Earth. The underlying message of the play quickly became apparent to the audience: everyone is waiting for something.

Throughout the play, the two main characters, Vladimir and Estragon, idly wait next to a dead tree in the midst of a poverty-stricken area searching for hope. The audience quickly learns that they are waiting for God, a figure most people can only dream of meeting. This desolate scene sets the mood of the entire play.

Through a clever theatrical flourish, Vladimir and Estragon’s imminent encounter with God is made clear when Estragon slowly writes “Godot,” immediately after writing God.

If that gesture didn’t make the identity of their missing visitor obvious enough, a bright, illuminating light during the evening directly alludes to the heavens. As Vladimir shines underneath the light, the thought of the afterlife elates him. However, a subtler undercurrent that runs through the play is the grim possibility that Godot could also be Death, as the characters contemplate suicide several times because of restlessness.

Despite Vladimir and Estragon’s negative thoughts, they are nonetheless exhilarated by the thought of meeting Godot, until a suspicious character, Pozzo, appears instead. Dressed in white, Pozzo at first gives off an almost angelic aura. Minutes, maybe even seconds later, we see that he is not as heavenly as he appears to be. Pozzo owns a black slave named Lucky and forces him to commit degrading acts like wearing a rope around his neck.

The symbolic nature and afterlife images of “Godot” help add more meaning to the play, but several humorous wisecracks make the play more enjoyable. Right smack in the middle of the play, Vladimir performs an impression of Michael Jackson to catch the attention of those audience members who had lost focus.

Although much of the play consists of simply waiting, the play remained interesting. Nevertheless, it is understandable how Waiting for Godot may be confusing to some. The plot is somewhat difficult to follow, and the subtle acting can be a turn-off at times. However, as Dartmouth students, the play asks to be broken down and analyzed to reveal a deeper, more meaningful message underneath. Whether it be holding on to one’s faith, searching for meaning in life, or any other way you may have interpreted this very open-ended play.

Our minor criticisms are clearly outweighed by our overall praise of the play. Waiting For Godot is a well-crafted view into the disappointment and restlessness that permeates one’s search for God or meaning in the world.

Take a failed business idea, make it more costly to students by making them pay upfront instead of through their tuition dollars, and unleash it again! That’s a sound business plan—or at least Hanover Bucks thinks so.

Granted, one right thing they’re doing is catering the program to rich kids who don’t have enough time to call or e-mail their parents to ask them for money. Who else would want to use this program anyway?

You can tell that Hanover Bucks is definitely catering to the rich kids because it has a “Beg-o-matic” feature on their website to beg for money from your parents, similar to the “poke” feature we all used to poke our friends and crushes on Facebook four years ago.

Really?

Really.

I’m not joking. This is a real business initiative at Dartmouth. Having a currency similar to Disney Dollars, where there is no worthwhile incentive to use it instead of U.S. currency, is just ridiculous.

While the “Beg-o-matic” is amusing, it’s depressing how these developers think rich kids are distant from their parents and treat their parents as just money bags.

Maybe the developers did their research this time and found that rich kids do treat their parents like money bags. But based on how they’re bringing back a failed business plan with few improvements, I doubt it.

On the other hand, if you actually DO use it, feel free to write us at dfp@dartmouth.edu—though we reserve the right to ridicule you.

We began our Dartmouth careers associating AD with Animal House, labeling Sig Ep as the generic frat, and characterizing SAE as pretentious. But with so many of our cherished institutions of higher, erm, states of consciousness on probation, what effect does this have on the still malleable minds of our beloved ‘13s? What kind of effect will this have on rush and the dynamic of the frats on campus?

There are only a few fraternities at the moment not on probation: Sig Nu, BG, Heorot, Tri-Kap, SAE, and Theta Delt. Unsurprisingly, these frats are the ones busy hosting parties right now. Not only are these fraternities seeing the ‘13s for the first time, but they are also experiencing an overflow of refugee ‘11s and ‘12s whose favorite stomping grounds are now off limits—sometimes even upperclassmen get a case of the “fuck its” and try something new.

“Yeah, I’ll go exploring I guess. I went to Heorot for the first time!” said one ‘12 girl who usually spends all her time at Chi Gam and Sig Ep and wishes to remain anonymous. But while the probation epidemic is encouraging some to see what the other fraternities have to offer, many don’t actually see it as a novel experience.

“For me it’s more about the atmosphere than the structure itself. There’s always going to be a hip-hop party, a techno party, or a blackout Greek party. [The probations] affect me but it’s not like I’m going to miss Chi Gam’s stripper poles,” remarked the same ’12 girl.

We found similar attitudes across the board. “It’s not like on a Friday night I go out and am like, ‘Which frats aren’t on probation?’ It’s more just, ‘Are their doors open?’” said an anonymous ’13 girl. “It’s all about the camaraderie. I also don’t play pong, it’s just me and my friends hanging out, encouraging those who go.”

Some students have said that they are adversely affected by the probations. “It’s really hot and crowded,” complained another anonymous ’13. “I think it is just because there are so little options right now, and whenever there’s something going on it’s really crowded, and that’s just something I don’t like, being hot and crowded,” explained Ishita Kala ’13.

To be fair, many of these newcomers simply haven’t learned to appreciate their cups as half full (which they usually are). Anyone who hasn’t been exposed to the languor of a frat basement is bound to be somewhat repulsed.

On the other hand, Tuesday and Thursday nights weren’t always such a war zone. To any freshmen out there dying to practice their pong: wait for a couple weeks. In the end, there will probably be a shorter line for pong.

One ’12 who declined to be named said, “Because there are less social spaces, the [frats not on probation] get more crowded, which [lengthens the pong] lines. But I still haven’t had that big of a problem getting on table. And by the time it’s really packed there I don’t really want to play more pong.”

He adds, “It does make it harder to get drinks. I’ve mostly been going to Phi Delt and BG. The problem is that a lot of the places you think about rushing are on probation, so it’s hard to get to know the brothers.”

Despite many of the frats’ probations, not everyone seems to share these concerns. Chris Z. ’13, when asked about his favorite fraternity, said, “I would say Phi Delt, so far. I’ve been there the most and I’ve met some of the brothers there. They have this cool batch thing [reds] that they bring out. I thought that was pretty cool.”

He also said that he had visited many different frats despite their probation: “I’ve been to Phi Delt, Tri-Kap, Sig Nu, AD, Heorot, Chi Gam, BG, Sig Ep, and I also really like AXA.”

Probation has done little to the Dartmouth social scene. Obviously, probation hasn’t prevented some ‘13s from discovering the disciplined fraternities. It hasn’t kept these frats from holding parties either—just smaller, more intimate ones. Houses (even the ones on probation) still open themselves up, and people still merrily boot in frat basements.

Even rush has remained mostly unaffected. Most ‘13s we talked to had a good sense of the frat-scene layout, while ‘12s clearly already know what fraternities exist in Dartmouth’s social sphere.When asked about if the probation would impact rush, one ’12 guy said, “Probably not. I don’t think it has changed much since last year. I spent a lot of time last year trying to figure out where to go. But I feel like it’s changed a little bit. There’s no dramatic change. I remember what it was like from last year, and I still know some of the guys. It’s only 2 weeks [versus] the 30 weeks of freshman year.”

For many upperclassmen, each frat has a certain flavor firmly cemented in our minds (in some cases, in more unfortunate ways than one). For the first couple weeks of this year, the menu has been significantly truncated, and many of these preconceptions have been held at bay.

Surprisingly, the experiences of most of the ‘13s we interviewed were strikingly similar to our experiences when we were freshmen. Although the common stereotypes will inevitably prevail, this short hiatus has revealed how trivial our judgments truly are. Ultimately, we all drink the same beer.

Although the late Senator Edward M. Kennedy wrote True Compass in the last stage of his life, it is far from mournful. Instead, it is a heartfelt memoir about hope, courage, and perseverance in the face of personal tragedy and insurmountable odds. He may have been the youngest, most rambunctious and scandal-riddled politician of the brothers, but he ended in the pillar of the Kennedy family.

The most poignant parts of the book are his childhood recollections, his bond with his siblings, and his deep and loving respect for his parents. The influence Ted Kennedy’s father and brothers had on him is remarkably evident in the novel.

As a child his father told him, “You can have a serious life or a non-serious life, Teddy. I’ll still love you whichever choice you make. But if you decide to have a non-serious life, I won’t have much time for you. You make up your own mind. There are too many children here who are doing things that are interesting for me to do much with you.”

These words consequently spurred him to go into politics and run for office. His relationship with his brothers was also integral to his life choices. He recalls being in a “constant state of catching up” with his older brothers. And catch up, he did: he was a nine-time Senator of Massachusetts and a one-time presidential nominee.

In his memoir, Kennedy portrays himself as a clearly committed Senator with great political insight. Unlike his brothers who were viewed as incredible politicians, Ted Kennedy was underestimated.

His political savvy eventually exposed itself in Kennedy’s diligent commitment to improving America as a Senator. He brought people of all backgrounds together, served in many Senatorial Committees, and championed innumerable causes and bills.

Kennedy’s memoir is by no means a masterpiece. Some chapters just read off like a list of facts and seem detached. He shows sincere remorse but provides little new or insightful information about major incidents in his life like the car accident in Chappaquiddick that killed Mary Jo Kopechne.

If you were looking for a juicy tell-all, True Compass is not your answer. However, it is an incredible autobiography that details the political and personal life of a central figure from one of America’s most beloved families. True Compass brings this larger than life figure down to earth and reveals his true essence, ideology and convictions.

On September 26th, Programming Board hosted “Big Green Live,” the fall concert to kick off the beginning of the year. More importantly, it was the first “extensive outdoor concert in recent history,” according to PB’s Budget Coordinator Caitlin Halpert. The concert was also a response to Dartmouth students’ extensive criticism that Programming Board’s past concerts were not inclusive of all students or in exciting outdoor venues.

I wasn’t too crazy about the featured performers—Gym Class Heroes, Wale, and Mike Posner; however, I’ve never been much of a music person either. The overall scene was overall pretty nice—even fun, and I usually never attend PB events. It even avoided the usual whiney opinion article from The D that no one ever reads anyway.

Holding a big concert for the entire student body outside with free admission (yes, free!) is the perfect recipe to create an awesome event for Dartmouth students. Extra props to PB for having some sweet, salty and fatty foods. My Nutella and banana crepe pretty much sealed the deal, though a part of me wished that we could have at least used DA$H to pay for the food. I whole-heartedly approve of the changes they made so far to the concert format and hope to see more refinements to PB concerts in the future.

However, despite providing the student body with some good changes, I’m not sure that they answered its concerns in the best way possible. Yes, the concert took place outdoors, but a fall opening concert should take place in the quintessential Dartmouth location—the Green. A prime location would have taken care of most of the logistical problems Big Green Live had. If Big Green Live had taken place on the Green, there would have been less confusion about whether this was a concert-type or a festival-type event, the flashy food stands would not have blocked the stage, and the event would have seemed more official, something very Dartmouth.

Before we pull out our pitchforks and head over to a PB meeting, this wasn’t entirely Programming Board’s fault. Now, PB certainly has its share of criticism, but the College is largely responsible and has a lot of input for available spaces, especially for concerts. Yes, the Green is reserved for special events and rightly so. After all, the College does need to maintain an image for Dartmouth. However, there simply aren’t enough events that receive the proper space they need to be a successful student event. Events like the PB concert need to have the Green as a potential option now and then. It’s a prime location to have a concert, and would make students happy, or at the very least, not as unhappy.

The College and the town of Hanover, both of whom co-own the Green, may say that the concert would be too loud, or that it would harm the grass, etc. If that’s the case, why do we have any of their “approved” events on the Green? If that’s what they want, let’s keep the grass green on both ends, Dartmouth. Of course, that’s not what any of us would want to do. What else is the Green for except to host a menagerie of Dartmouth events like Homecoming and the Native American Pow-Wow? Noise may be an issue, but that’s primarily if it is after certain hours. It isn’t unreasonable to have a fun event during the day—we definitely need some excitement and variety around here.

Essentially, what it comes down to are a few officials, from the College or town, who are opposed to student activities, fun, and enduring a little noise. Technically, as a private entity, Dartmouth officials can do whatever they want, but honestly, it just makes them seem as if they oppose change, even if it’s for the better. Come on, Dartmouth and Hanover, let us have some fun. Give us the space we need. We’ll complain a bit less and wander outside of Webster Ave. a bit more often. Isn’t that what some of you want? Let us have our social space and let our concerts succeed.

When most people think of which state will be the next to legalize same-sex marriage, they usually do not think of the red states. Blue state bastions like Rhode Island, New York, and California (again) immediately come to mind, but few would even consider the possibility in the Union’s most socially conservative states like Oklahoma, Louisiana, or Alabama—and certainly not Texas. That was, until October 1st, when a Dallas district judge ruled that two men married in Massachusetts had the right to get divorced in Texas.

The significance of the ruling goes beyond simply permitting divorce among same-sex couples married in other jurisdictions. Texas, like many other Southern states, has a constitutional ban on same-sex marriage and other formal same-sex unions. Gay divorce, unlike gay marriage, is not technically prohibited in the Texas Constitution, providing a legal “gray area” where judges can rule either way. However, the judge in this case, Justice Tena Callahan, ruled much more broadly, stating that the already-adopted constitutional ban on same-sex marriage is “unconstitutional.” Justice Callahan ruled that the ban on same-sex marriage in the Texas Constitution is incompatible with the equal protection clause of the United States Constitution.

But before we get our hopes up, we should keep in mind that Justice Callahan is politically liberal and donated thousands of dollars to the Democratic Party in 2008. Texas Attorney General Greg Abbott has already pledged to appeal the ruling. For this case to have a larger impact, it will need to reach the Texas Supreme Court, where all eight justices are Republican, five of which were appointed by anti-gay Governor Rick Perry. And because Texas Supreme Court justices run for re-election every six years, they’re more likely to try to appease their constituents by declaring the ban on same-sex marriage constitutional. Even so, judges are meant to be fair, and less partisan than politicians. They are guided not by policy or politics but by legal precedent. So perhaps it’s OK to be cautiously optimistic in this case.

Despite an uncertain future, this ruling still remains surprising, especially coming from a conservative state like Texas. In fact, it’s even more surprising when one looks at the history of Prop 8 in California. Unlike Justice Callahan, the Supreme Court of California was unwilling to declare its state’s ban on same-sex marriage unconstitutional. In the court’s opinion, majority rules, and unfortunately, the majority denied fundamental rights to a minority group.

On the other hand, the Dallas case makes a much more interesting claim with possible national implications. It suggests that the only way to prevent gay marriage in Texas, and essentially anywhere else in the United States, is to repeal the equal protection clause of the U.S. Constitution. In other words, for Justice Callahan, institutions in our free society demand marriage equality for the LGBT community. Democracy doesn’t mean that 51 percent of the population can dictate the rights of the other 49 percent. Democracy sometimes means that the majority loses in favor of protecting the minority. This is hardly a new idea. Before the Civil Rights Movement, the majority (whites) thought it best to have whites and “coloreds” segregated. Brown v. Board of Education taught us that following the majority isn’t always fair. Similarly, a majority of Texans in this instance did not make a just decision when they voted on a constitutional ban against same-sex marriage in 2005.

I suspect that there will be some backlash amongst conservatives, who will accuse Justice Callahan of judicial activism. But I do not believe that she was acting as an “activist” in this case. She merely stated an honest opinion protecting LGBT people from the tyranny of the majority. A democratic society like ours cannot thrive unless the majority loses from time to time. In the case of marriage rights, the majority’s concession affords LGBT Americans the rights they duly deserve, even in as conservative a state as Texas.

Everyone who has ever seen the movie Spinal Tap has an idea of the hardships involved in making a successful band. At Dartmouth, musical “success” is defined not by performances in big stadiums but rather more humble venues scattered around campus. Dartmouth guitarists are confined to playing in frats, banquets, barbecues, and until this past spring term, the beloved Lone Pine Tavern. Before closing last spring, Lone Pine always provided aspiring student musicians or bands opportunities to entertain audiences without tapping into pre-existing frat connections.

Luckily for us musicians, what used to be Lone Pine is being renovated and modernized into “One Wheelock” thanks to popular request (and one gratuitous donation). We have upgraded from a lonely Tavern to a café-inspired lounge with piles of free coffee, comfortable leather couches, a separate door that opens onto Wheelock St., and a slightly higher musical standard. But as thrilling as this news is, there are greater obstacles than financial concern in Dartmouth’s music scene.

Practice may not necessarily breed musical perfection, but it doesn’t hurt. A soloist or duo can usually find practice rooms to rehearse in but there are no spaces allocated for a full band to freely bang on a drum set and plug in to a quality sound system on campus. And nailing carpets all over my walls to soundproof my room seems a bit much. On top of the problems with noise levels, lack of equipment, and time slot scarcity, there is a more fundamental cultural void. The College provides no space for independent band members to hang out “off the record,” and develop their sonic chemistry.

There is certainly a ready supply of rooms at the Hop for a cappella groups and official school ensembles. Supporting independent musicians is not just a service the school should provide; it is also an investment in a service that the musicians can provide the school in return. The difference is that for independent bands, this service goes directly to the students in frat basements or at other functions. Programming Board, a student run organization, may not even know of the student bands available on campus. There may be enough money to hire professional musicians from all over the country every month, but that is no substitute for a real, local music scene at Dartmouth.

If the music department could recognize the benefits of campus bands, there would be a large incentive to help them to succeed; but these benefits remain unacknowledged.

The campus group “PRFORM” was created as a reaction to this culture at Dartmouth. Its mission is to provide musicians with a place to meet, plug into a PA system, and increase their awareness of other artists on campus. Although this group supports the noblest of causes, it has sadly been relegated to the fringes of campus attention and funding. In fact, the only place that PRFORM can call entirely its own is a small closet in the basement of Thayer where musicians can trust that their instruments will be safeguarded.

Although musicians are nominally permitted to use the space in Hovey Lounge (downstairs Thayer), the system for scheduling practice time is nearly impossible to navigate. You have to suggest a practice time to the faculty coordinator, who then has to defer to the Collis Governing Board to check for availability, which eventually tells you that you were successfully booked for three days ago. At this point, you charge up to the Collis front desk and ask the nice, pretty girl for a key, and lo and behold, she opens the closet for you, no questions asked.

This is not another poorly aimed critique of bureaucracy. PRFORM is an inspired group, and the idea behind it is a comfort to all wandering musicians. The new president, Patricia Lee ’12, has taken steps to stretch the meager resources the group has been allotted.

The main limiting factor for independent bands is space, and although there are numerous practice rooms in the Hop, it is difficult for a group with a drum set and equipment to use one at will. Two years ago there was a practice room in the basement floor of Collis, but due to lack of support, it was discontinued and the doors were locked.

As much as we can draw on our wealth of talent in a cappella groups or our large endowment, we still aren’t fully tapping in to the artistic reservoirs on campus that have been left adrift by our exclusive system. Creating a self-sustaining passion for music at Dartmouth means more than having just a Blitz list and a closet. It means forging a connection between the music department and the underground bands, and recognizing that both parties have something to offer each other.