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Like most educators, the men of Caltech have their little eccentricities. Astrophysicist Fritz Zwicky takes peculiar pride in the fact that he has never given a student a grade of 100 (except once, and then the student turned out to be a fiction created by a band of Zwicky's colleagues). Brilliant young Theoretical Physicist Richard Feynman is a master at breaking lock and safe combinations (during World War II, he made the rounds of Los Alamos safes, depositing "Guess who?" notes in them). In his spare time, Nobel Chemist Linus Pauling likes to blast away at the souped-up claims of advertisers (he once completely deflated a popular chlorophyll deodorant by proving that instead of killing a smell, the stuff merely paralyzed the nose). But on matters affecting the institute, individualism melts into unity. On one occasion, a visiting professor from a Midwest university asked Physicist Robert Bacher how long it takes the faculty to reach a major policy decision. "Oh," replied Bacher, "anywhere from ten minutes to two hours." Replied the astounded visitor: "Why, it takes us months."
Balloon & Rocket. The gates of Caltech do not swing open for everyone who knocks. In a recent survey, the average student IQ was placed at 142, the lowest scorer (122) being a young foreigner who was still having trouble with his English. This brain power, when combined with mechanics, sometimes finds surprising outlets. Some of the japes at Caltech make ordinary college-boy pranks look like arrangements of kindergarten blocks. On one occasion a senior opened his door to find a completely assembled and working Ford in his room. Another senior found an assembled cement mixer, and still another bumped into a meteorological balloon that stretched from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall—completely filled with water. Even dance decorations may inspire the young scientific mind. Once Dr. George Mayhew, general panjandrum of student affairs, picked up the phone and heard a voice ask: "Dr. Mayhew, did you give permission for a 57-foot rocket to be built by Ricketts House?"
No matter what is going on at Caltech, competition is the order of the day—everywhere, that is, except possibly on the gridiron. There, Coach Bert LaBrucherie, who once led U.C.L.A. to the Rose Bowl and later got thrown out because he failed to make it a habit, rules one of the oddest squads in the history of U.S. football. Though the boys play hard, they have cheerfully lost 25 games in a row. At one time, when they piled up a losing score of 12-18 against their archrival Occidental, a local paper headlined the news: CALTECH THROWS SCARE INTO OXY. "For us," says Coach LaBrucherie. "this was a moral victory. We usually don't scare anyone." After his own experience with the big time, however, the coach is content. He can get along without the hoots of disgruntled alumni, the pressures of professional boosters, the shenanigans over athletic scholarships. The closest he has come to complaining: "Some of our budding geniuses can't see well enough without their glasses. Though a Caltech player has yet to tackle his own man, boys have been known to line up with the wrong team."