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The Tufts Daily
Where you read it first | Friday, April 26, 2024

Alanna Tuller | Archive Addict

 

There are certain things about Tufts that make me proud to call myself a Jumbo: active citizenship, first-rate academics, groundbreaking research, chocolate fondue night in Carmichael. But there are also certain traditions in our history which do not necessarily instill the same sense of Jumbo pride within me.

Take, for example, the now-defunct tradition of Junior Day. During the early 1900s, the junior class organized what was actually a multi-day festival replete with dances, luncheons and athletic events and, most intriguing of all, an event known as the Horribles Parade.

From what I gathered by examining the historical record, the Horribles Parade was just as its name implies: a truly god-awful procession and quasi-hazing ritual in which freshmen and sophomores dressed up in ridiculous, homemade costumes to compete for cash prizes. The hype often began a few months in advance, slowly building the excitement as students waited anxiously to see just how far the youngest Jumbos would go to win a little extra spending money.

Though the festivities wouldn't take place until May, by the end of March, the Tufts Weekly was already announcing the parade route; in the middle of April, they began hyping the fifteen, ten and five-dollar cash prizes. The week before the 1922 Horribles Parade, the Weekly relished in describing the particulars of the parade to those who had never witnessed this "time-honored" tradition:

"Dressed in anything that happens to be handy, the two lower classes will present a spectacle that would have made Barnum's clowns turn a faint Nile green with envy
 Owners of window-curtains, portieres, rugs and lamp-shades are hereby warned."

My imagination went wild, trying to imagine what these ragtag bands of students looked like as they stormed the quad. Fortunately, the Weekly faithfully reported the results of every year's contest. In 1926, "Five members of Beta Kappa [dressed as] 'A Motley Group,' won the first prize. The second prize was awarded to A. Alcorn who impersonated 'The Last of the Romans.' G. Govoni won the third prize as a chem. lab. cripple." Lovely.

Unfortunately, I would consider the 1926 contest to be positively progressive compared to the costumes displayed in earlier years. Apparently, in the 1922 contest "Shoe-blacking played a prominent part, several of the contestants wearing it practically unassisted
 [and] [t]here was evidence that some of the coeds had loaned certain articles of dress to the Horribles." While I don't take issue with the cross-dressing, the fact that students were rewarded for dressing up in blackface and as "cripples" is more than a little troubling as a Tufts legacy.

And, in addition to these somewhat offensive displays, there were also costumes that were just downright strange. In 1925, the Weekly tells us, "The scene in front of East Hall took on the aspect of a gang of 'extras' gathering for a mob scene as the time for the starting of the 'Horribles Parade' arrived.ghgh
 The second prize of five dollars went to a rather futuristic conception of the chapel organ. The spectacle seemed worthy of Bunyan and although the idea was hazy it showed originality." While I think that final euphemism tells us what the author really thought about the poor student's costume, I must say that with Halloween just around the corner, I'm quite tempted to recreate it.

Fortunately, the tradition of the Horribles Parade died out by the late 1920s and, if I might add, with good riddance. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of Tufts traditions I am proud of and wish we had preserved - NQR, anyone? - but this was one truly horrible tradition I don't think anyone misses.

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Alanna Tuller is a senior majoring in English. She can be reached at Alanna.Tuller@tufts.edu.