All morning long in Berkeley, Calif., a thin line of black figures crawled down an incline which was massed with others like themselves, crawled like ants across turf to a flower-decked platform, crawled back up and were lost among their fellows. At one end of Memorial Stadium, under the great gilded C which gleams on Berkeley's Charter Hill, the University of California was graduating its largest class. President William Wallace Campbell, 68, mechanically distributed from cabinets which were rolled up to him, 2,596 degrees.* The hot morning...
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