The Dean of Men

Pj HHE dean's profession is looked upon as a dangerous profes_..Lsion, quite properly. From statisticians' questionnaires about deans, I recall that their conclusion is that the life expectancy in the profession is a little less than eight years on the average. Vos morituros mortuus saluto! In spite of the risk, however, there is a fascination about the profession. I am reminded of that old story of the bootlegger who in prohibition days was called upon to deliver a package after nightfall to the mayor at the mayor's back door. He came at the specified hour, delivered his package into the mayor's hands and, while the mayor was paying him a rather round sum, he said: "You know, Mr. Mayor, in our profession the thing that is attractive isn't the money we make but the people we meet." So when I count up the friends whom I have made in my profession, I thank my stars that I was reckless enough to have become a dean. I am going to begin with a fundamental datum. My first proposition is this: We are living in the most revolutionary period in the history of our Western-European civilization. It is from this civilization that we drew our ideals, our culture, and our way of life. It is a frequent error to believe that we are just about to enter that period. We have been in it for about forty years-all the period of this century-and we have not recognized that fact. In that brief period we fought the two deadliest wars in all history; and in the second of these wars, the one just past, we have killed more civilians, more women and children, than ever lost their lives in any wars. We could almost say more civilians, more women and children, killed than in all the wars ever waged by men who call themselves civilized in all the tide of the times. We complacently call them "world wars" because this masks an important fact, which as I see it is this: