Laura Mannix


Articles

Not My Dartmouth

You know, I've heard that Dartmouth is like the date rape capital of the world." So said Karen as we walked down the hall of our all-girls high school in April of 1993. "And where did you hear that?" I asked defensively. I had a reason to be defensive; in the four days since I'd been accepted to Dartmouth, I'd already heard that there were no women here, that the Greek system was so big and all-powerful that if you were not a member of a sorority or a fraternity you had better resign yourself to having no friends and that there were no Catholics here.


Diagnosis: Senioritis

So there I sat in the doctor's examining room, wearing only that garment known by those in the medical profession as a "johnny" and by the rest of us as an "embarrassment." I'd been waiting in this Mass.


Dick's House: We Deserve Better

I remember about a year or two ago there was a big stink about a series of "Sleazy the Wonder Squirrel" cartoons in which Sleazy and company criticized Dick's House.


A Love Story

They got married in June of 1942, right in the middle of World War II. He was an officer in the army, tall and dark-haired, and she was a petite young secretary in Boston who had never planned on getting married and having children.


Listen Up, Ladies--Here are the Rules

For years, Dartmouth students have complained about the lack of a dating scene on this campus. Task forces have convened, discussions have been held, all to no avail.


The Cutest Candidate Wins

You gotta feel bad for Bob Dole. I mean, if I were a disabled war hero, an extremely influential member of Congress since the dawn of time and a morally upright hardworking American, I would be extremely annoyed at running a distant second to a smooth-talking, draft-dodging, skirt-chasing, scandal-ridden country boy like Bill Clinton.


Trips to the Ladies' Room

"Planning your escape?" asked Mikey. We were in a dark club in Cambridge, and I had been standing in one place, eyes fixed on the door, for 15 minutes. "Huh?


A Bastion of Civility

Freshman fall, I could find nothing wrong with Dartmouth. The "College on the Hill" was my own private Utopia -- I had fallen in love with the picturesque autumn scenery, the students who seemed so good at balancing work and fun, and the professors who inspired me. Life was good, so I shoved all criticisms to the back of my mind.


Your Typical Dartmouth Student

Ok," said one of the Aquinas House chaplains. "The next question I'm going to ask you is, what is it about you that makes you unique?" My mind drew a blank.


Major Headaches

So," said my Harvard-educated dentist, coming into the small sterile room and walking over to the chair where I sat. "Where do you go to school, Miss Mannix?" "Dartmouth College." "Really!?" he said, sounding shocked.