The Tao of Stephen

The bottles were unmarked, which was strange. They sat on a card table at one corner of the New Haven Green. Some cost two dollars, some five, and others ten, and all were full of liquids of varying color. The table was cluttered, gray, and worn. Surrounding it were people, bus stops, traffic, and noise. … Continue reading The Tao of Stephen

The bottles were unmarked, which was strange. They sat on a card table at one corner of the New Haven Green. Some cost two dollars, some five, and others ten, and all were full of liquids of varying color. The table was cluttered, gray, and worn. Surrounding it were people, bus stops, traffic, and noise. I gawked at the scene, dumbfounded in the middle of the city. The vendor at the table noticed me, sensed my puzzlement as I stood there. Like a good salesman,. . . Read more
Clint Carroll
Eyes on the Prize

The perennial filing frenzy that descends on the fellowship office at Undergraduate Career Services during the first weeks of September has finally calmed. Legions of Yalies brandishing applications and wearied from weeks of humble self-aggrandizement have given up their annual siege of 1 Hillhouse Ave. The many seniors who just couldn’t get that perfect Rhodes … Continue reading Eyes on the Prize

The perennial filing frenzy that descends on the fellowship office at Undergraduate Career Services during the first weeks of September has finally calmed. Legions of Yalies brandishing applications and wearied from weeks of humble self-aggrandizement have given up their annual siege of 1 Hillhouse Ave. The many seniors who just couldn’t get that perfect Rhodes recommendation or whose Fulbright interview flopped are now left to look for real jobs or to seek funds elsewhere. Yet the despair of these haggard souls is unwarranted. They need. . . Read more
Matthew Underwood
Letter From Prague

I’m in an abandoned building full of anarchist squatters, talking philosophy with Serotonin and Siv. Actually, Siv is doing most of the talking. He’s an English philosophy student, and we met him wandering in the cold Prague night, looking for a place to sleep. Serotonin and I were catching a night tram over to the … Continue reading Letter From Prague

I’m in an abandoned building full of anarchist squatters, talking philosophy with Serotonin and Siv. Actually, Siv is doing most of the talking. He’s an English philosophy student, and we met him wandering in the cold Prague night, looking for a place to sleep. Serotonin and I were catching a night tram over to the squat when bright-eyed Siv stepped from the shadows carrying a bedroll. Siv is 23, from Portsmouth, and he’s giving me his Hegelian explanation for why he came to demonstrate against. . . Read more
Erik German
Quoth the Ravens, Nevermore

The last page of the playoff edition of the New Haven Ravens program tells the story of Rally and Ribbi’s wedding. Apparently, the two mascots became Mr. and Mrs. Raven on August 6 at Yale Field. Guests at the wedding included the Mariner Moose, who flew in from Seattle, and local mascot Handsome Dan, the … Continue reading Quoth the Ravens, Nevermore

The last page of the playoff edition of the New Haven Ravens program tells the story of Rally and Ribbi’s wedding. Apparently, the two mascots became Mr. and Mrs. Raven on August 6 at Yale Field. Guests at the wedding included the Mariner Moose, who flew in from Seattle, and local mascot Handsome Dan, the Yale Bulldog. Immediately following the wedding, a baseball game was played. Baseball doesn’t seem to be a top priority for Ravens fans. It’s certainly on the list-maybe above the sumo. . . Read more
Michael Gerber
Hitchhiker’s Guide to the University

In the title of Michelin’s new Green Guide to Yale University and New Haven, the city and the institution of higher education huddle together, like college sweethearts in a twin bed, separated by a mere conjunction. After 300 years of often strained coexistence, Yale and New Haven, it seems, have finally joined together in a … Continue reading Hitchhiker’s Guide to the University

In the title of Michelin’s new Green Guide to Yale University and New Haven, the city and the institution of higher education huddle together, like college sweethearts in a twin bed, separated by a mere conjunction. After 300 years of often strained coexistence, Yale and New Haven, it seems, have finally joined together in a blessed union that is a worthy subject for one of the world’s most respected travel publishers. The blandishments surrounding the new Guide’s birth confirm this impression: At a press conference. . . Read more
Patrick Casey Pitts
Cell Division

Dazenia Henry’s son was awakened in the middle of a cold December night last year, shackled, hog-tied, and put on a bus heading south. Twenty-two hours later, he arrived at Wallens Ridge State Prison, a super-maximum ("supermax") security facility in Virginia, and was placed in a cell where he would spend 23 hours of each … Continue reading Cell Division

Dazenia Henry’s son was awakened in the middle of a cold December night last year, shackled, hog-tied, and put on a bus heading south. Twenty-two hours later, he arrived at Wallens Ridge State Prison, a super-maximum ("supermax") security facility in Virginia, and was placed in a cell where he would spend 23 hours of each day for the next six months. Neither Marcus Henry, a 23-year-old New Haven man who is serving the sixth year of a 45-year prison sentence, nor his family was warned. . . Read more
Jessica Bulman
Where Have You Gone, Joseph Lieberman?

A portrait of the candidate as a Yale man.

On Monday, October 28, 1963, Yale Daily News Chairman Joe Lieberman went on the record in support of the drive to register black voters in Mississippi. Along with 100 other volunteers from Yale and Stanford, Lieberman was heading south to help voter registration efforts and the gubernatorial campaign of black candidate Aaron Henry. He had the symbolic import of his mission in mind. The Chairman was going to show black Mississippians, as he wrote, “that there are white men who care about their plight . . . whose insides burn with anxiety and. . . Read more
Ronen Givony and Daniel Kurtz-Phelan
Higher Education

On a warm Tuesday night in September, I am sitting in the living room of an off-campus apartment when two other Yale students walk in. One is on financial aid; the other does not receive aid. They have come here, to a friendly apartment, to share a bowl of marijuana and a two-liter bottle of … Continue reading Higher Education

On a warm Tuesday night in September, I am sitting in the living room of an off-campus apartment when two other Yale students walk in. One is on financial aid; the other does not receive aid. They have come here, to a friendly apartment, to share a bowl of marijuana and a two-liter bottle of Mountain Dew. As they pass the pipe and the soda around the living room table, I ask them if they’ve heard of the July 1998 amendment to the Higher Education. . . Read more
Anya Kamenetz