In the context of Statue of John Harvard, explain the 1890 painting of the Pranks.
Following a May 31, 1890 Harvard athletic victory, front-page headlines in the Boston Morning Globe declared:
"Vandalism at Harvard; statue of John Harvard and college buildings daubed with red paint by drunken students; seniors and faculty indig­nant ... Riotous Mob Ruled the Campus." The next day the Globe further reported that a Harvard student observing graffiti-removal efforts "declared that no Harvard man ever daubed the impious phrase, 'To h—l with Yale.' He was of the opinion that a Harvard man would at least soften the profanity by varnishing it with Latin or Greek ... Two detectives who were requested to ferret out the perpetrators paid little heed to the discussion on swear words, but kept their eyes on several impressions that had been made on the paint when it was fresh. One thought they were made by a dog's paws, and as several students kept dogs the suspicion was magnified to the importance of a clue. A student, however, told the detectives that according to his view the impressions were made by barefoot boys walking on tip-toe." Out-of-state newspapers reporting the outrage, and to a greater or lesser degree following the subsequent investigation, included (among many others):The World (New York, New York; June 2, p. 2): "A Jocular Outrage — Harvard Students Exceed Decency in Celebrating."
Evening Gazette (Sterling, Illinois; June 2, p. 4): "Harvard Students on an Outra­geous Tear. — Slathers of Red Paint Used. — The Fine Statue of the College Founder Ruined by the Crazy Scapegraces."
Fort Wayne Sentinel (Fort Wayne, Indiana; June 2, p. 5): "The faculty will expel the criminals and persecute [sic] them if found."
The Philadelphia Record: "Painted Harvard Red — Disgraceful Antics of Rum-Crazed Students. — Cambridge is Horri­fied. — The Faculty Bent on Venge­ance ... Last night the whole college celebrated a wild orgie [sic] ... There were suppers, bonfires, fish-horns and a general pandemo­ni­um; but, save the insane acts of two of the students, who, overcome with enthusi­asm, deliber­ately threw their dress coats into the bonfire while dancing around the blaze, no great overt act was then commit­ted ... It was during the small hours that the vandals were abroad ... [John Harvard's] face, hands, books, and shoes were bright crimson, and his clothes striped like a zebra." Despite a mass meeting of outraged Harvard men (who insisted the culprits must be outside­ers or, failing that, freshmen), the hiring of detec­tives, and an apparently facetious report that Harvard President Charles W. Eliot was unavaila­ble for comment because he had "gone out in the woods to cut switches" (all Globe, June 3), on June 22 an anonymous contribu­tor (Globe, p. 20) intimated that while "the faculty claim that they have not found out any of the men who did the 'fine art' work ... I saw the ringleader on class day showing two very pretty girls around the 'yard'."
John Harvard Charles W. Eliot Boston Morning Globe right Scapegraces abroad fish-horns crimson switches Yale