Editor, the Weekly
I had not been a "G .I. student" at Queen's University, Belfast, North Ireland, more than a few days before I discovered that one of the favorite campus legends here concerns Princeton's own President McCosh. It seems that Dr. McCosh, when a young, newly-created professor at Queen's several years before he came to the U.S., had a reputation as a strict disciplinarian and a stricter grammarian. Late one night, while proctoring one of the dormitories, loud noises of student revelry began to emanate from one of the third-floor rooms. Bounding up the stairs two at a time, Dr. McCosh strode to the offending door and rapped several times, accompanying the raps with his most authoritative "Open this door." After a moment's silence a tremulous voice queried: "Who's there?"
"It's me, Professor McCosh," thundered the good doctor.
"Whew," replied the voice, pregnant with relief, "you really gave us a turn — Professor McCosh indeed! Imagine Professor McCosh ever making a grammatical mistake like 'It’s me.' Beat it, whoever you are."
The man who was to become one of Princeton's greatest presidents slunk away as quickly as possible, utterly crushed.
THOMAS A. SHAW JR. ’46