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            Web Exclusives: 
              Under the Ivy 
              a column by Jane Martin paw@princeton.edu 
             
            April 21, 2004: 
            Beer 
              jacket jaunt 
              For seniors, now and then, the coverall says it all 
             Spring at Princeton has long been heralded not by the robin red-breast 
              but by the orange and black of the beer jacket. Fifteen years ago 
              they were worn by seniors a bit sheepishly, as we took pride in 
              the glory of their tradition but winced at their sheer dorkiness. 
              Through the years, though, they were worn with more genuine good 
              cheer, as symbols of seniority, literally, and the rights accorded 
              therein. Seniors in their beer suits (until the post-War years, 
              they were entire costumes of overalls, jackets, and occasionally 
              hats) could sit on the Mather sun dial, among other privileges. 
              According to the Princeton Companion, the suits got their start 
              in 1912, when seniors “while quaffing beer and carving their 
              initials on the tables of the old Nassau Inn, noticed that the foam 
              from their steins sometimes spotted their clothes.” They found 
              that overalls and jackets, commonly worn by working men, kept their 
              outfits pristine, and the next year the entire Class of 1913 donned 
              white coveralls. 
              The Princetoniana web site (www.alumni.princeton.edu/~ptoniana/projects.asp) 
              says that the first design on a jacket appeared in 1918. It was 
              simple: a beer mug inscribed with the year 1918, and a head of foam. 
              The insignias would quickly become more elaborate, however, and 
              within 10 years the logo became a primary identifier of the senior 
              class, summing up the experiences of its college years. In the late 
              1920s and ‘30s Prohibition and the Depression were common 
              themes; 1938’s emblem, for a class headed to war, showed a 
              dismayed tiger behind an eight ball — and from another perspective, 
              the eight was centered in the sight of a gun.
              This musing on beer jackets was inspired by a picture and description 
              of the Class of 1942’s insignia, one of the more involved 
              and ingenious designs in beer jacket history. It was drawn by Henry 
              Toll ’42, whose work I first encountered when editing a PAW 
              article on the Class of 1942 during the war. Toll had a distinctive, 
              angular, almost art deco-like style; his tigers look more like today’s 
              harsh Japanese graphics than the cuddly cubs of late 20th-century 
              Princeton years. When Toll’s beer jacket design appeared, 
              Francis Broderick ’43 disparaged it in his May 1, 1942 On 
              the Campus column disparagingly – “a poorly-executed 
              mélange of the class’s interests” — but 
              gave an excellent key to its many details. The logo featured, he 
              wrote, “portraits of President Roosevelt, smoking a cigarette 
              from a holder twice the size of his head, Churchill, munching a 
              cigar as if it were his lunch, and Stalin, just looking idly off 
              into space. There is a Tiger with a gun in one hand, indicating 
              what the class holds in store for the Axis, which is portrayed by 
              an ax (fasces) in the Tiger’s other hand. The ax and the gun 
              form, almost inevitably, V-for-Victory. Down at the left, the Rising 
              Sun is peering out of an oyster shell (Pearl Harbor). The top half 
              of the shell was designed in the form of a football with 150s written 
              on it to indicate the lightweight championship of last Fall. A winged 
              book commemorates the 17 seniors who have already been graduated 
              as a result of their own private accelerations. A Bulldog with four 
              patched bruises recalls that 1942 saw the Elis defeated in four 
              straight football seasons.” Whew. 
              Although I have seen the design once or twice before, I could 
              never have identified every item and its significance; even with 
              Mr. Broderick’s crib sheet, it took me a long time to find 
              Stalin (I believe he is at the very top, facing upward). And Mr. 
              Broderick even failed to mention the black storms of war and the 
              lightning bolts reading “42” above the Tiger’s 
              head.
              Over the decades the jacket designs became less involved, more 
              “stylish and free form,” as the Princetoniana site puts 
              it. Our own class of ’89 jacket, which I’ll haul out 
              for my 15th reunion next month, simply has a Tiger climbing over 
              the back of the ill-cut white jacket. However dorky, at Princeton, 
              you just can’t fight tradition.   
             
            
             
             Jane Martin 89 is PAW's former editor-in-chief. You can 
              reach her at paw@princeton.edu 
              
              
              
            
             
               
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