SUNSHINE AND SHADOW
"Our college is stronger than ever before, the education she offers to students is richer and fuller than ever before, " Rhees declared in the spring of 1916, "alumni spirit and enthusiasm are higher than ever before, student life is more active, and the future prospects more interesting than ever before..."
For that optimism, for that faith in tomorrow, there were solid reasons. Yet before another year elapsed the intervention of the United States in the World War churned up academic affairs from top to bottom, though perhaps it was less disrupting than the Civil War, for women students afforded an element of stability lacking in the 1860's. Not long after the signing of the Armistice in November of 1918, the college groped its way back to something akin to "normalcy." It was not, however, a complete restoration of things as they had been; men who had served in the armed forces, especially those who had seen Paris, were more restless than their pre-war counterparts. And, besides, plans were maturing for education in music and in medicine which would eventually convert the regional college into a University of national proportions.
Five new faces appeared on the trustee board, three from the business community of Rochester, another business man of New York, and the last a public school administrator. Church affiliation, a dwindling consideration for years in the selection of trustees, no longer possessed any significance whatsoever. In the footsteps of his grandfather, F. Harper Sibley of Rochester, a young Harvard grad entered the corporation in 1917 on the distinct understanding that his responsibilities would not consume an inordinate amount of time and thought. So tepid was alumni interest in the privilege of choosing a trustee that at one point it looked as though the right might be withdrawn; actually, Herbert S. Weet, 1899, joined the board in 1915 by reason of alumni election and two years later Horace F. Taylor, 1893, was chosen for a second five-year term.
Upon the death of Lewis P. Ross, Rochester manufacturer and banker, in 1915, Dr. John P. Munn, 1870, a veteran member of the trustee body, commenced what proved to be the longest tenure of the presidency in the history of the U. of R. Owing to ill-health, Rufus A. Sibley felt obliged to retire, and he was promptly awarded a newly created title--honorary "trustee emeritus." Evidently, the idea of having the college faculty represented on the corporation came under serious review. Rhees let it be known he was "watching a Cornell experiment" of this sort with interest, though he felt strongly that professorial participation in the administration of European universities had produced untoward consequences. Perhaps administrative matters could be divided, he speculated, so that the faculty would share more actively in formulating educational policies, without concerning itself with business affairs. 1
In February, 1914, a party was staged to celebrate the recent raising of the $1,100,000 fund. Trustee Alling attributed the splendid outcome to the resourceful labors of Rhees and to the fine spirit of the graduates; responding, the President paid warm tribute to the generous donors. The goal had not been reached by a few thousand dollars, but bequests by alumni soon cleared the deficit. Gifts for library purposes came in steadily, and Jesse L. Rosenberger, 1888, permanently endowed (1915) a lectureship bearing his name and provided money for a prize to be given to the Sophomore who had shown the greatest academic improvement.
Under the will of the late trustee president, Lewis P. Ross, the University obtained eventually about $840,000, a larger single benefaction than ever before received. It was stipulated in the will that a Department of Vital Economics should be created, and since the department was soon united with the School of Medicine and Dentistry it will be dealt with in that relation.
From the fund for the Anderson statue, a small surplus was diverted to library purchases. Whereas in 1913-14 the college budget amounted to about nearly $125,000, it rose sharply during the war period and by 1918 a debt of nearly $50,000 had accumulated. Declining male registration and therewith a reduction in tuition income, higher costs for fuel and supplies, and extra payments to the faculty in the face of a steep rise in living costs put the budget out of balance.
A summary statement of college finance in the spring of 1919 revealed that the value of real estate and equipment amounted to $1,340,000 and productive resources had reached two and a half millions. Expenditures for the year totaled slightly under $208,000, while income was $192,000, nearly sixty percent of it coming from endowment funds. The treasurer rejoiced that the only securities in default were bonds of Imperial Russia, "now in the hands of a protectorate."
Later in 1919 a Victory Endowment Campaign for $1,000,000 was undertaken. It was calculated that the income generated would liquidate the debt of the war years, make possible urgently needed improvement in faculty compensation, and finance for some additional professors. Conducted in November of 1919 by forty teams of solicitors, working with alumni, students, and friends of the University, the drive, to which some 2,896 donors responded, yielded the desired sum, George Eastman contributing one tenth of the total. The assumption that Rhees asked the Kodak magnate for financial help only once in his career--that is, for funds to erect what came to be known as the Eastman Building on the Prince Street Campus--is belied by the evidence. When the 1919 campaign was in train, the President solicited assistance from Eastman, who shortly before had made "magnificent provision" for a school of music, and, according to his account the latter answered, "I don't expect to give any more money to the U. of R." Rhees remarked, "I don't blame you at all; you have done marvelously as it is." Conversation proceeded, however, and before it was over the philanthropist promised "to chip in" $100, 000--and did so. 2
By reason of the fund-raising success of 1912-1913, creative dollars were available to expand the faculty, necessitated partly by the growth of the feminine clientele, and to enrich course offerings. To the German department, Ewald Eiserhardt, born and educated in Germany, was added; tall and erect in bearing, his black hat, flowing cape-coat, quaint and charming accent, and old World courtesy lent a cosmopolitan flavor to the faculty and made him a distinctive campus personality. Very much the idealist in the tradition of his ideal, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, and an exacting and stimulating teacher, Eiserhardt endeared himself alike to colleagues and undergraduates. After an unhappy experience in the War era, which is related in another context, he concerned himself primarily with art history, becoming an expert and travelling widely to enhance understanding of his specialty; he died in Germany in 1936 while on an art research mission to China.3
On the recommendation of Professor Morey, economics and sociology were detached from his area of instruction and organized as a new department; Meyer Jacobstein, non-graduate, 1904, was brought in to teach economics. As has been previously noted, Jacobstein after six years on the faculty forsook an academic career in favor of labor management and public affairs. The English department was strengthened by the appointment of George C. Curtiss, whose entire academic life, with one interruption, was spent on U. of R. campuses. Scarcely had he settled in than the Campus greeted Curtiss, who had played baseball as an undergraduate and had been games master in a school, as "Western Short-stop on the Faculty," who believed that Shakespeare and baseball made a good combination. A lively man in the classroom, "Red's" caustic sarcasm, sharp tongue, and dry humor delighted the brighter students and goaded the laggards into greater exertions. A man of high principles, always accessible to the individual student, Curtiss' concern for undergraduate welfare was sustained, useful, and deeply appreciated throughout his long tenure. In dedicating the Interpres to him in 1923 (an honor repeated ten years later), the editors alluded to "his valued guidance in scholastic activities and his efforts on behalf of the University's athletic program...."4
To cooperate with Morey in teaching history and government, Laurence B. Packard joined the faculty in 1913. A specialist in European history, trained at Harvard and the Sorbonne, Packard became a paradigm among teachers, a scholar with extraordinary ability to excite students by integrating the past and the present. Urbane and sophisticated in the classroom, he displayed an irreverence for pedantry that younger learners found refreshing and provocative. Taking the long view of the recorded human past, Packard resolutely declined to be overwhelmed by pessimistic analyses of contemporary society. To his peers and to undergraduates, he stressed the importance of developing insight, of broadening horizons; he loved to teach and to encourage the unfolding of personalities. Many students signed up for his classes less because of any heartfelt interest in the subject matter than to hear the professor lecture. He presented a new and famous course introducing students to the evolution of Western Civilization, and he was equally effective in teaching European history in advanced courses and in seminars.
After Packard moved in 1925 from Rochester to Amherst, it was written of him: "The freshmen he captures almost from the start by the quality of his lectures. The delivery is forceful and somewhat staccato, with emphasis given by voice and gesture....Each lecture is a work of art, beautifully formed, skillfully integrated....Here is a man whose wide and deep knowledge of history has given him a contagious enthusiasm for the insights it can offer, the understanding of the world it can provide, the illumination it can shed on the complexities of modern life." That appraisal might with equal validity have been written of Packard during his dozen years at Rochester.
Packard was singularly successful in guiding able students into history as a profession. Five of the men in his very first class at Rochester proceeded to graduate studies in history, three of them earning doctorates, and scores of others at Rochester and Amherst followed in their footsteps. Aside from vigorous participation in extracurricular affairs and in faculty counsels, Packard devoted a good deal of time to addressing audiences off the campus. Upon the outbreak of the war in Europe, he spent himself enlightening community groups on the issues and the episodes in the agonizing struggle; with uncanny accuracy, he predicted in February, 1916, that the fighting would rage on for two or two and a half years longer and would end in an Entente victory. While he often drew applause for wise and puckish public performances, he was also attacked for diffusing convictions that were less than universally popular.
Tempting offers invited Packard to return to his Harvard Alma Mater or to go to another prestigious institution, but he repulsed them all until 1925 when he accepted a bid from Amherst. "I am going to Amherst," he announced, "where there will be a somewhat broader scope for the kind of teaching and investigation in which I am interested." His departure, the Campus truly remarked, was "a shock" and "will leave...a place that will be almost impossible to fill." 5
By arranging for his college classmate and intimate friend, Dexter Perkins, to come to the U. of R., Packard merited very high marks. To inexhaustible mental and physical vitality, Perkins united, in the language of a biographical sketch, "breadth of view, idealism, and capacity for brilliant generalization." Upon his arrival at Rochester in 1915, he gave the impression that "he might have been a successful football player... having a fine pair of broad shoulders, and being of good size throughout." Although he received alluring invitations from other institutions, both to administer and to teach, he chose to remain at the U. of R. until attaining the normal age of retirement.
Apart from masterly instruction in American history and government (in his early years), frequently eloquent, spiced with sparkling wit, and in which sacred cows were gored if that seemed in order, Perkins tirelessly gave extra classroom talks to undergraduates, promoted extracurricular discussion groups, and entertained undergraduates at his home. By his marriage to a brilliant student, Wilma L. Lord, 1918, he brought a breath of romance into the sedate academic community.
Perkins also devised (1947) a trail-blazing scheme of training graduate students in which sound and thorough scholarship was combined with directed preparation for teaching; in fact, he regarded excellence in the classroom as the supreme challenge of the academic profession. As president of the American Historical Association, he delivered (1956) a memorable address, defying the conventions of the office, on "We Shall Gladly Teach." A pivotal force in faculty transactions, he was cherished by and an inspiration to colleagues within and outside his own area of learning.
A prolific author, particularly on American diplomatic history and especially on the Monroe Doctrine, Perkins composed a row of books as well as a great many scholarly and lay essays, some of which were collected in book form. Altogether, he achieved a national and an international reputation as a historian of top rank. Perkins lectured at several distinguished European shrines of learning and established the celebrated Salzburg (Austria) Seminar in American Studies on enduring foundations. Upon his retirement at Rochester in 1954 after thirty-nine years of teaching, he assumed a new chair in American Civilization at Cornell University and along the way presented lectures at over one hundred American colleges and universities; in his mid-seventies it was his custom to offer a series of lectures on aspects of American history to large and appreciative audiences on the River Campus.
Perkins' concern for civic welfare was exemplified by innumerable addresses and radio broadcasts, by his tenure as city historian of Rochester, by his leadership in a variety of Rochester organizations. Further, he held the office of Moderator of the Unitarian Church of America and as a member of the board of overseers he shared in shaping the educational policies of Harvard University. That venerable institution, like Union College and Rochester, bestowed an honorary doctorate upon him.
Biographers ascribed the remarkable career of Perkins to his "enormous vitality, his quickness of comprehension, his instinct for moderation, his capacity for combining that wisdom which is the end product of great learning with the practicality which is the product of much experience..." What he would not, could not tolerate was laziness, dullness, and intellectual snobbery.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one;
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken and persuading;
Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not;
But to those men who sought him sweet as summer. 6
Physical education at the U. of R. entered upon a new era in 1916 with the advent of Edwin Fauver; five years later he was formally designated as college physician. In addition to diversified experience as an Oberlin athlete and as a coach, he held a degree in medicine. It required three years of negotiation, crowned by an assurance that the University had acquired a new athletic field, to lure Fauver away from Princeton. Immediately upon his arrival Fauver impressed undergraduates with his "congeniality and splendid good nature." Before long the Campus was saying, "Rochester realizes...what the presence of this magnificent personality is doing... when clear heads and great hearts are needed...." Fauver is "a man who inspires others to clean living through his own life...." The dedication of the Interpres to Fauver in 1921 described him as an individual "who has labored perhaps more incessantly and conscientiously than any other member of the Faculty towards 'a bigger and better Rochester.'"
Like his twin brother, Edgar, who had similar responsibilities at Wesleyan, Fauver was short and husky, gifted in satire, and a tough disciplinarian with the commanding bark of a drill sergeant, which at once repelled undergraduates and endeared them to him. Both men earned national reputations for promotion of high principles in sports and sportsmanship; they manfully fought anything and everything suggestive of professionalism in intercollegiate athletics and stressed the values and importance of intramural games. The Fauver athletic code regarded intercollegiate sports as recreational outlets for bona fide students; it frowned upon recruitment of players and athletic scholarships. It restricted games to institutions with parallel ideals, insisted that men should be coached to observe the rules of the game, not to violate them, and banned drinking or gambling by players. By precept and example, Fauver unwittingly assumed the role of moral guidance once supplied by the University president himself. Not only did he carry on as director of athletics, but he coached several teams and was instrumental in organizing athletic conferences and in fostering amateur sports beyond the borders of the campus. Appropriately, the Stadium on the River Campus was named for him, for he had a great deal to do with planning the superb facilities for physical training there. Many a Rochester alumnus fondly recalled an experience as counselor in a New Hampshire summer camp for boys operated mainly by the Fauver brothers. 7
Three alumni, to whom reference has earlier been made joined the faculty in this period; two of them, Willard R. Line, 1912, in Chemistry and Floyd C. Fairbanks, 1901, in Physics and Astronomy, served until retirement, and the, third, Lester O. Wilder, 1911, in English and administration withdrew for several years to engage in business. In harmony with the growth of the college, the first professional librarian was appointed in 1915, James A. McMillen, who remained only four years. To administer the new discipline of Vital Economics and to teach physiology John R. Murlin was chosen, but he did not start instruction until 1919. The first professionally trained psychologist at Rochester, Louis A. Pechstein, was put in charge (1916) of expanded training in pedagogy and subsequently of extension and summer school programs. He persuaded (1918) the administration to detach psychology from philosophy, making each of them an independent department. Very much an "empire-builder," Pechstein by his ambitions and administrative methods antagonized several of his colleagues and hosannas ascended in 1922 when he moved off to greener pastures.
Taking the faculty as a whole, there was a high degree of "inbreeding," that is, of teachers who had done their undergraduate work at Rochester. Harvard and Michigan ranked next as sources of the instructional staff. To the existing faculty graduates, a category called "junior" professors was inserted (1914) below senior teachers, though the new title was not publicly disclosed and was used only in the confidential records of the corporation.
During the war years, the trustees authorized emergency supplements to salaries in keeping with the size of each teacher's family. In 1919 compensation was modestly boosted, senior professors being paid $3,500 (notably less than at Hamilton College, for example), junior professors $3,000, and assistant professors $2,500; at the same time, the compensation of the President was advanced to $9,000, despite his vigorous protestations. Faculty gratitude over the salary raises verged on the pathetic; a younger man, who previously had taught at leading seaboard institutions, lauded Rhees for his "constant support of your faculty, a rare and encouraging thing." He had "not known another faculty so wholly without factional strife and so united in support of its President."
Of interest to the professoriate, the terms of the Carnegie Foundation grants, which assured pensions to teachers upon retirement and to their widows, proved too ambitious for the available resources and had to be revised, requiring annual contributions by the faculty and the college treasury. Called the Teachers Insurance and Annuity Association (TIAA), the new scheme, which became operative in 1918, assured retirement and insurance benefits to faculty, and administrative personnel and their survivors. Participation in this benefit program was an important factor in enabling the U. of R. to attract and retain superior educators and administrators. To encourage scholarly endeavor, the trustees appropriated funds to cover part of the expenses incurred by teachers in attending annual gatherings of learned associations, and it was customary for men who took part in meetings to report their impressions to their colleagues. On the invitation of Trustee Alling the faculty met regularly at his home to talk over matters of general academic interest; this novelty turned out to be, the germ of a regular faculty club. 8
Standards of admission for applicants from accredited secondary schools were raised and the practice of periodic visits by faculty members to such schools to inquire into the effectiveness of teaching and to cement cordial relations was given up (1916). A cynical someone has defined a college faculty as a company of earnest men who had just effected curricular reforms, or were about to do so, or who had revision under consideration. Under a revision that became operative in 1914, required courses were reduced and academic offerings were grouped in three categories: language and literature, social studies, sciences and mathematics. To prevent excessive specialization, underclassmen had to elect a full year of study in each of the three groups, including a course requiring laboratory experience and two years of French or German. Upperclassmen had to plan a program of concentration in the "advanced and progressive" offerings of a single area of learning. This reform, its proponents reasoned would promote coordination of knowledge and independent thinking.
To help freshmen in adjusting to the freedom of the college environment and to the duties of college work, upperclass advisers were appointed and supervised by the Dean of Men. He was also instructed "to get in close personal contact" with neophytes and if the task turned out to be too burdensome, he should enlist instructors to cooperate with him. Subsequently, freshmen were obliged to appear (1918) a week in advance of the opening of the academic year to receive orientation instruction in college ethics, hygiene, and methods of study, on which they were examined at the close of the lectures; anyone who failed had to read prescribed material and take a second test. Once more faculty meetings debated at length the desirability of replacing the historic three term year with a two semester pattern, which had been adopted in many colleges. On the whole, the teachers of science preferred three terms, but in the end they were overborne by a vote of seventeen to thirteen with three others recorded as indifferent. 9
Faculty legislation of 1915 aimed to achieve greater uniformity in evaluating the performance of students. Meticulous statements (not without quaint semantic touches) defined the various levels of achievement; a mark in the 70's, for instance, indicated that the learner was either "conscientious but dull" or "brilliant but lazy." A grade anywhere between 43 and 59 meant an "ordinary failure," while anything less than 40 implied hopeless failure.
Course offerings expanded, Chemistry collaborated with Engineering in creating a program in which upperclassmen might concentrate heavily in chemistry leading to a B.S. in Chemical Engineering. Instruction in the law of contracts was started. Freshmen were required (1916) to attend a series of lectures on Bibliography, which would acquaint them with efficient techniques of library study, and elective work of an advanced nature in the use of the library was introduced for upperclassmen. Experimental psychology took its place on the roll of studies, and for it a primitive laboratory was laid out in Anderson Hall. Beginning in 1918, the content of the course in Citizenship was broadened and it was made obligatory for virtually all upperclassmen.
Specifically to combat crop losses to market gardeners in the Rochester area due to diseases, instruction in plant pathology was given (1914-18) under the auspices of the department of biology and in cooperation with Cornell University. Costs of instruction and rental of a greenhouse for experimental work were met from the resources of an Agricultural Improvement Association and by individual donors. Accompanying one gift was an amused note to the President: "I have been wondering what you would take up next, but hardly looked for this development." During the war a unique Emergency Training Course for Employment Managers, requested by the Council of National Defense, was presented under the supervision of the U. of R. Ex-professor Jacobstein directed intensive six-weeks training by means of lectures and discussions, conferences and visits to Rochester factories. Three sets of students, prospective employment managers of firms having government contracts took the course, which elicited high praise from important government officials.
Of potentially great significance was the resurrection in 1916 of University Extension. The faculty readily approved a recommendation by the President that opportunities for vocational and liberal training for employed men and women should be offered, starting in February, 1917, in college buildings. Fees would be small, classes would meet in afternoons and evenings and standards would match those in the college itself. "The extension courses," a Campus editor believed, "should give Rochesterians as a whole a more sound understanding of the University and its worth... and dispel the idea that 'Rah! Rah!' and 'Waxy-co' are the principle [sic] expressions of University life."
Until he entered national service, Prentiss B. Gilbert, 1906, administered the program, which initially Presented courses by eleven instructors, almost all drawn from the University faculty. Registration exceeded 170, mostly teachers in the public schools of the city who wanted to improve their professional competence. With the coming of the war and the departure of many younger professors, the offerings were of necessity curtailed, but they bounded upward after 1918. For a time mere numbers of students had greater appeal for Pechstein, the second administrator of University Extension, than the quality of the instruction or the performance expected of students; by and large, courses were watered down in content and tended to be less sophisticated than those for undergraduates. 10
Consideration was given by the faculty to introducing a bachelor's degree in education, but the idea was turned down on the reasoning that it would be inferior in quality to the conventional degrees in arts or science. A like fate befell filmy proposals to create an authentic graduate school, though it was agreed that a very high level of work should be required for the master's distinction. It is worth noting that the first regular meeting of the Rochester Association for the Advancement of Applied Optics, the parent of the Optical Society of America, was held in 1916 in the Eastman Building. 11
On October 8, 1913, the Memorial Art Gallery on the Prince Street Campus was dedicated with simple but impressive ceremonies. Given by Mrs. James Sibley Watson, daughter of the donor of Sibley Library, it was an enduring memorial to her son, James G. Averell, a talented architect, who had died prematurely; not only was the Gallery an ornament to the Campus, it was a showplace of the city. While the University corporation was to act as custodian of "a people's art gallery on the grounds of a people's University," its affairs would be handled by an independent Board of Managers, representing the art interests of the whole community. Members would be appointed by University trustees from individuals nominated by the Board of Managers, and it was prescribed by Mrs. Watson that the donor, the University, the Rochester Art Club, and Mechanics Institute should always be represented on the Board. Expenses would be defrayed by income from Gallery membership primarily and from admission fees (abolished in 1920). 12
The Memorial Art Gallery represented the attainment of an objective cherished for decades by art lovers in Rochester. Not long after the founding of the Genesee village, short-lived galleries were opened and paintings and sculptures were shown in hotels or the City Hall. Several affluent Rochesterians, moreover, accumulated art collections of merit, and in the late nineteenth century campaigns permanent gallery were recurrently organized, though none succeeded. The spearhead of the gallery cause was the Rochester Art Club; created in 1875, which arranged exhibits nearly every year; competitive ambitions were quickened by the establishment of art galleries in Buffalo and Syracuse. Mrs. Watson, "a steadfast friend and patron" of the Art Club, made her benefaction in 1912, the year the City of Rochester celebrated its centennial. The veteran president of the Art Club, George L. Herdle, a creative artist and critic, was chosen director of the Gallery and at his death in 1922, his daughter and assistant, Gertrude Herdle Moore, 1918, assumed the directorship. Of Herdle, Rhees said that he was "the most even-minded, unselfish and courageous type of manhood I have known. " and a resolution by the University faculty echoed that judgment. 13
The site chosen for the Gallery, fronting on University Avenue, conformed to the general plan for the development of the campus. Designed by John A. Gade, nephew of Mrs. Watson and member of a New York City architectural firm, the structure was built under the supervision of the Rochester architect Claude Bragdon, Rhees, as usual, keeping a shrewd eye on the construction and expenditures. A dignified limestone building, the Gallery resembled the Malatestas chapel in Rimini, Italy, of which Averell had been fond. On the facade, groups in bas-relief symbolized painting and sculpture, architecture and music, and Raphael, Michelangelo, Bramante, and Leonardo da Vinci were commemorated in medallions. For the ceiling of the vestibule entrance, a Danish muralist, Frode Rambusch, painted splendid fresco, and directly ahead was placed a statue of "Memory" by William O. Partridge with a relief portrait on its base of Averell. On the main floor there were four bays for pictures and sculpture and the quarters of the director; an art library, small rooms for lectures and exhibits occupied the basement.
At the dedicatory ceremonies the principal address was delivered by Robert W. DeForest, then vice-president of the Metropolitan Art Museum in New York, who spoke on galleries and painting in the United States. In the evening undergraduates demonstrated their appreciation in a merry vocal serenade of the building. While the Gallery made a specialty of transient showings of art objects, the permanent collections were steadily enlarged, and community patronage of the institution, nourished by annual membership campaigns, increased year after year. From the beginning, the promotion of appreciation and understanding of art through exhibitions, lectures, and instruction made the Gallery the very center of the artistic life of the Flower City and its environs.
Thanks to the generosity of the Watson family, an extension to the Gallery in 1926 more than doubled the space; as well as increasing exhibition areas, library quarters were enlarged, and facilities to foster the interest of children in artistic enjoyment and creativity were substantially widened. Forty years later, the Gallery experience further much-needed expansion and the original structure, now over half a century old, underwent considerable renovation.
The University's master plan for the campus contemplated a fine auditorium between the Gallery and the Alumni Gymnasium, and preliminary studies were actually made. It would do no harm, Rhees informed the architect who had prepared the layout, "to let the public know we are in a receptive frame of mind.... We have not yet heard of anything coming down the pike that looks like a check." News of that sort eventually came, but the auditorium project was presently submerged by the decision to create an entirely new campus for men. 14
Physical equipment for the higher education of women in Rochester, meanwhile, had passed through a revolutionary cycle. On land at the southwest corner of University Avenue and Prince Street, formerly a skating rink, and deeded to the University by Mrs Aristine Pixley Munn, mother of Trustee Munn, two buildings for women exclusively were erected. At the time, parenthetically, the donor was in her hundredth year.
In May of 1913 ground for the buildings was broken. Planned by architect John Gade, the structures were so-called academic Gothic in style and limestone from the Rochester region was used. Facing Prince Street, Catharine Strong Hall, was given by Henry A. Strong, partner of George Eastman, in tribute to his mother. It contained a commodious auditorium with a stage, classrooms, a small library, administrative offices, and a lunchroom. An enclosed passageway linked the Hall to Susan B. Anthony Memorial Hall or Gymnasium, entered from University Avenue. Financed partly by funds collected by admirers of the indefatigable suffragist leader and more so from University resources, this structure had a well-equipped area for physical training and rooms for social purposes. Proposals for a swimming pool dried up because funds were not available.
Male students disdainfully referred to the women's complex as "co-edville" and the connecting cloister as "The Chicken Run, " while a co-ed rhymster sang:
Across the corner a trifling distance
The college for women came into existence.
They built structures of lasting stone,
We had buildings to call our own.
Susan Anthony, Catherine Strong,
Linked by a chicken run, drafty and long.
Speculations in the Rochester press that the University intended to erect a dormitory for women on a plot to the west of the Presidential home lacked factual foundation. Available for use with the opening of the college in the autumn of 1914, the women's center released the "parlor" in Anderson Hall for recitation rooms and study quarters for several professors. In introductory courses, except for the sciences, women met separately in Catharine Strong, though advanced courses were attended jointly with the males. Where laboratory work was involved women and men used the facilities at different periods. 15
Just as the Gallery was welcomed by men and women with artistic instincts and the women's block by coeds, so the sports-minded rejoiced over the acquisition of a new athletic field. In 1915 the corporation purchased a tract of approximately twenty-two acres at the southeast corner of Main Street and Culver Road, two miles distant from the campus, and occupied today (1968) by the monumental East High School. Laid out there were a football gridiron, encircled by an oval cinder track, two baseball diamonds, and a concrete grandstand to accommodate 1,700 spectators; beneath were dressing quarters for athletes, showers, and lockers. Plenty of space remained for other types of games. A lofty iron fence surrounded and protected the property.
With a maximum of fanfare, on November 10, 1917 the Culver Field was formally opened. The event caught the imagination of the community. Rochester's mayor proclaimed the occasion a civic holiday. A monster parade of over a thousand alumni and undergraduates, the largest public spectacle the University had ever mounted, marched by a circuitous route from the center of the city to the Field, accompanied by mounted police, a detachment of National Guards, and three bands. More sedately, "Prexy," trustees, professors, municipal dignitaries, and clubmen rode in a spectacular procession of some 500 automobiles. American flags, emblems of the Entente nations, and banners of sister colleges flapped jauntily in the breeze. U. of R. fans were distinguishable by yellow armbands and their ladies by yellow chrysanthemums; military uniforms were generously sprinkled in the huge crowd of spectators. Once speeches of dedication and gratitude had been delivered, the U. of R. football team did battle with Wesleyan--the colleges of the Fauver brothers. The contest was charged with high emotion, and, notwithstanding the disappointing outcome (the yeomen from Middletown, Connecticut, carried home a victory), the game was replete with thrilling moments. During the summer months the general public was permitted to use the Culver playing fields. 16
Annually, Librarian McMillen bombarded the trustees with laments about the inadequacy, the congestion in Sibley Hall. Teachers relied more and more upon library study by students, and the collection of books and periodicals forged upward year by year, though during the war learned journals from belligerent countries either ceased coming or were wholly suspended. Donations of books and memorial funds for purchases by alumni and friends supplemented appropriations from the University treasury.
Professor Packard devised an ingenious scheme whereby students in. the history classes paid a modest fee instead of buying a textbook, and the money was applied to the purchase of duplicate or single books for undergraduate use; several other teachers adopted the Packard formula. Whereas in 1901 the Library possessed just under 37,000 volumes, by 1919 the figure had climbed to nearly 75,000 and the annual book budget had tripled--to $9, 000. To satisfy student demands, the Library, remained open until ten in the evening on weekdays. Responsive to the McMillen pleas, Hiram W. Sibley authorized plans to remodel the Library. That done, he agreed to underwrite improvements after the war was over.
Undergraduate registration in chemistry necessitated (1915) an expansion of Reynolds Laboratory, and a house on the Prince Street side of the Campus was purchased (1916) for executive offices. Dr. Fauver broached the idea of a student infirmary, and animated discussions raged over the establishment of a lunchroom in the basement of Kendrick Hall which would eliminate the necessity of going to the nearby East High School cafeteria. Neither of these proposals, however; materialized at the time.
On the other hand, roads on the campus were rearranged, a central driveway proceeding from University Avenue to the Anderson Circle with a branch leading to the Art Gallery. Benches were set out on the campus, which furnished a summertime "breathing spot" for mothers and children of the neighborhood. With becoming ceremony, a commemorative Shakespeare oak was planted in 1914 between Anderson and Sibley Halls, matching one set out half a century before. Two graduates of the class of 1864 joined Rhees and several professors in tossing spadesful of earth around the sapling, and Slater, who fifty years later supervised the planting of a Shakespeare oak on the River Campus, read a long, original poem. As witness to age of gasoline, the trustees appropriated (1916) money to buy a power-driven lawn mower.17
The outbreak of the European war in the summer of 1914, seemingly remote from the New World, had little immediate impact upon University life. Interpretations of the struggle in faculty circles diverged, with partisans of the ill-assorted Entente coalition the more vocal. Professors addressed town and gown on the fantastic costs of the fighting and Rhees observed that there were "some minds which almost welcomed the great conflict, because of the rebuke it administers the superficial seeking after pleasure...." Presently, he castigated the Christian belligerents for the war and for appealing to the Deity for help. "The bitterness of it all is that we thought civilization has made some progress...." he observed. French professor Charles Carron upon returning from Paris reported that gaiety flourished parallel with sobriety in the "City of Light." Gaudily decorated French army men contrasted unforgettably with crippled war veterans and ladies gowned in mourning black. German aerial attacks worried many a Parisian and at night street lights were shrouded in cloth and, public transport stopped at ten; few restaurants were open and the Opera House had closed down completely. France intended to push its frontiers to the Rhine, Car r on remarked; the natural limit of the Republic.
Unfolding events in the diplomatic arena or on grim European battlefields found ready analyses on the campus and in the city by historians Packard and Perkins, both ardent supporters of President Woodrow Wilson. In a course on British history, Packard raced to 1914 in a couple weeks and spent the balance of the term lauding the island kingdom at war, and he spoke up strongly in favor of student preparation for military duty if a call to arms should come.
Scarcely had the fighting begun than British publicity agencies dispatched literature to the University setting out the British version of the coming of the war, in the hope of "counteracting German propaganda." On the other side, Harvard Professor Kuno Francke lectured on "Germany's Contributions to Civilization." Undergraduate voices sounded off against German recourse to the submarine weapon and manifested sympathy with the hapless victims of the war in France, Belgium, and Serbia. Funds were raised for relief of the sufferers, for the Red Cross, and for YMCA, work in European prison camps. 18
Because of the possibility of American involvement in the conflict; some thirty undergraduates in the spring of 1915, shortly before a German submarine torpedoed the great liner Lusitania, formed a military corps to train officers; lectures, mapwork, instruction in first aid, and, presumably, a bit of drill made up the program. Critics reproached the corps as encouraging a bellicose mentality and as disruptive of extracurricular activities. The negative side won a Commencement debate in 1915 on the adoption of the Swiss pattern of compulsory military service. That summer three undergraduates and two alumni who underwent training in a "West Point" school for reserve officers at Burlington, Vermont, agreed experience was most profitable and interesting."
An alumnus recommended that a peace society should be organized at the University "in order to somewhat calm the exalted status of student sentiment," and a second declaimed energetically against any move in Washington "that may lead us into the European war AT PRESENT." Excerpts were circulated from an address by David Jayne Hill imploring America to make itself so strong that its words and rights would be universally respected.
Although the principle of preparedness was defeated in a torrid student debate, "Prexy", thirty-two faculty men, about 200 hundred students and half as many alumni marched in a boisterous city Preparedness Day parade in June of 1916. At the conclusion, a sham battle in a Rochester park caused the death of a spectator. Just then the United States was involved in an angry quarrel with Mexico which had drawn several U. of R. men into military service. At the 1916 Commencement two seniors received their diplomas wearing army uniforms beneath their academic robes; at least sixteen Rochester students spent the summer in an encampment for officer training at Plattsburg, New York; and several professors advocated a University military corps, taught by Plattsburg products.19
As the diplomatic relations of the United States and Imperial Germany approached the point of no return, Rhees took part in a Congress of Constructive Patriotism in Washington. Upon his return, the President urged the undergraduates to remain calm, loyal to national ideals, and ready to make the ultimate sacrifice if that should be necessary; personally, he strongly favored universal military training though not in colleges. Before long, he read to a college assembly the dramatic Wilsonian message of April 2, 1917, summoning the Congress to declare war upon Germany.
Straightway, the President conferred with other academic executives of New York State on the responsibilities of higher education in the great crisis and on a uniform policy with regard to military service for students. Rhees accepted the chairmanship of a committee to establish student military units and to enlist youths for farm work; on its part, the faculty voted that Seniors in good standing who enlisted in the national service would be granted degrees if their officers reported favorably on them, and the same principle would apply to Seniors who took agricultural jobs; non-Seniors who enrolled in the armed forces or for farm work would receive academic credit for a full term. And the faculty requested the trustees to place all the resources of the college at the disposal of the military authorities. A course for college credit in Red Cross work or a related activity, it was announced, would be devised for undergraduate women, and in military training for men by way of preparation for an officers' camp.
"War Spirit is Present...No Excitement" proclaimed a banner headline in the Campus. The President disclosed embryonic plans for military training and pleaded with the men not to withdraw from the college in an emotional flurry, but to await developments. "The best sacrifice we can make," counseled a guest speaker at a college assembly, "is to go about our ordinary duties filled with enthusiasm for a great cause...It is a serious and glorious moment in which to live if you handle it seriously..." Scores of undergraduates, however, enlisted, animated by beliefs which were strong enough to inspire them to lay down their lives, if called upon to do so, in their defense. 20
In spite of calls for sobriety, understandable restlessness gripped the Campus. An exhibition of "trench" newspapers deepened understanding of the harsh realities of contemporary warfare, a geology teacher explained it detail how Rochester could be defended against assault by German forces, and a student clamored for the conversion of the University grounds into a producer of food as a "concrete manifestation of patriotism." In a manner reminiscent of the Civil War era and in imitation of what George Eastman and hundreds of other Rochesterians were doing, Rhees considered growing potatoes on portions of the campus and of the Culver Road playing fields if sufficient could be obtained; he toured the state addressing audiences on loyalty and patriotism. Student cries arose for the removal of the portrait of Prince Otto von Bismarck from a classroom, inasmuch as "his lust for conquest and cunning is comparable to the character of the ambitions of William II."
In line with the faculty announcement, a military corps enrolling about 200 undergraduates and several professors was formed, though the ranks were steadily thinned by enlistments in the national service. An ex-army sergeant, Joseph Futherer, was recruited to teach the corps the fundamentals of military drill; since rifles were not available, broomsticks, apparently, served as substitutes! As his special contribution, Professor Slater undertook to keep accurate records of U. of R. men and women who entered the national service; he communicated with many of them, issued appeals for information, and periodically published bulletins, styled "Soldiers and Sailors Information Service," on what he learned. "Things are pretty quiet at Rochester," he wrote, commenting on the large number of students who were in the fighting services. "It's been a long cold winter, but the dandelions are coming all right." Beneath the Stars and Stripes on the University flag pole, a banner carried a star for each man and woman in the national forces. 21
At the reopening of the college in the autumn of 1917, about one professor in five was absent in some form of government service, and male student registration had dropped and would be further depleted as the academic year proceeded. It was in truth a hectic time, rendered the more alarming, temporarily, by an order from Washington in January of 1918 to suspend instruction indefinitely in order to conserve coal; only the Kendrick residence hall and a room in Reynolds Laboratory were heated, but the ban was lifted after one week.
In the meantime, a department of military instruction had been incorporated in the college curriculum and a Rochester Training Battery had been set up. To instruct the unit, a youthful Canadian field artillery officer, Captain Francis C. Hamilton, who had been invalided home after lengthy duty in France, was engaged. Since equipment was lacking, he taught how to manipulate big guns by means of wooden "dummies" and lectures, supplemented by instruction in signaling and horseback riding. Underclassmen were obliged to enroll (in lieu of compulsory physical education) and their elders might do so if they desired; first and last, approximately 180 men were involved.
While on the college grounds cadets were under military discipline and were required to wear uniforms; a spirited professor recommended that the faculty should likewise put on military garb, but Captain Hamilton vetoed the suggestion. The cadet experiment, mostly for obvious reasons, never fulfilled the expectations of its faculty sponsors; as a fundamental consideration, Hamilton, who initially "captivated everybody," neglected his duties and was insufferably irritable. Upperclassmen in the corps complained bitterly because they were subjected to "swell-headed underclass non-coms;" protests in the Campus disturbed Rhees, who requested that complaints should be addressed directly to him or to the commanding officer. Hamilton, too, was less than happy with his adventure in drilling restive undergraduates and blurted out, "I'll be glad to get back to France; it's more fun pitching shells on Jerry than teaching you blighters to be soldiers." 22
"Our honor roll is a long one, and we are proud of it," a Campus editor reminded his readers in a special war issue of sixteen pages, "and we are confident that a speedy victory will crown our arms." As he interpreted the harrowing ordeal, Germany was striving to wipe out all human progress and to establish "the dominion of 'blood and iron,'" yet the powerful American war machine, he was sure, had already struck fear into the hearts of the Prussian warlords. A communication from Rhees to the paper prayed for a speedy and triumphant conclusion to "the great fight for freedom, honor, and humanity." 23
In the spring and early summer of 1918 the military situation of the opponents of the Central Powers took on a dark and forbidding character. More troops from America were imperatively needed and it looked for a while as though conscription would virtually empty college halls of men. Happily, that dour prospect was obviated by a scheme for a Students Army Training Corps (S.A.T.C.), worked out by the War Department Committee on Education and Special Training.
As eventually fashioned, the program, which was intended to give basic training to candidates for officers' schools and to technical experts, permitted physically fit youths eighteen years and older "by voluntary induction and draft" to attend colleges of their choice. Campuses would be transformed -- and in fact were -- into camps under army control; college faculties and facilities would be fully drawn into the national service -- and in fact were. The federal government would finance tuition charges, board and lodging, uniforms and equipment, and the standard pay of private soldiers--thirty dollars a month. If performance was satisfactory, the citizen-soldier would pass on to regular officers' camps for finishing touches on his training.
Briefing on the S.A.T.C. was given Rhees and Fauver, along with their prototypes from institutions in the eastern section of the country, at Plattsburg, New York. Temporary two-story wooden barracks capable of housing 200 men were hastily thrown up to the north of the Alumni Gymnasium, and as many as sixty more could be quartered (and were) in Kendrick Hall, to which improvised an mess hall with kitchen equipment was attached. Headquarters of the outfit were set up in the Carnegie Building, and there military equipment and supplies were stored.
Launched on October 1, 1918, the Rochester S.A.T.C. enrolled 249 men, together with four naval reservists on detached service who had little more to do than report daily to the corps commander. In charge was a Californian, Captain Ben Alexander (who was also responsible for a parallel unit at Hobart College), flanked by four second lieutenants, college undergraduates themselves with the dew of quick training at the Plattsburg officers' camp still wet on their bright new uniforms. The U. of R. contingent was split into three companies with a complement of sergeants and corporals picked from the corps. Reveille sounded at 6:30 in the morning, taps at 10 p.m., with rigorous routine and constant supervision in between. It was obligatory for the S.A.T.C. men to remain within the campus enclosure and to wear army uniforms at all times. A proposal to put the teaching personnel into uniform attracted some support in Washington, but was not implemented.
While authorities in the War Department largely prescribed the S.A.T.C. curriculum, issuing descriptive circulars on the content of courses, considerable latitude for peacetime courses was permitted. Drill and army gymnastics consumed eleven hours weekly, lectures and recitations on military subjects fourteen, and about forty hours more were devoted to other kinds of learning. Fundamental was a course on "war issues," calculated to make the stakes of the herculean struggle living realities and to resolve questions in the minds of the student soldiers. Disinterest in book learning was corrected by an order making academic delinquencies a military offense. At night, Sibley Hall was reserved for study by the S.A.T.C. exclusively and a "Y" hut was fashioned in the Gymnasium, undergraduates from the women's college acting as hostesses.
Official directives encouraged athletics and mass singing. "We: hope every man will be a singer," the relevant document read, "because when he gets to France the hours in the trenches and: back of the lines will be long and dreary." U. of R. companies sang original compositions, such as
To Berlin, to Berlin
Is our cry.
And we're going to win,
When we get over,
We'll plant the clover
On the chest of Bill of Hohenzollern.
"Kill-a-Hun, Kill-a-Hun 1-9-2-1," ran the class yell of Sophomores. At 24 dress reviews, a band played the only tune which it knew--"The Old Gray Mare." 24
Two weeks after Germany capitulated on November 11, 1918, Washington ordered, with a suddenness equaled only by the signing of the armistice, the demobilization of the S.A.T.C., and by early December the mustering out process was completed. A few men had been sent from Rochester to an infantry officers' school at Camp Lee, Virginia.
It is unnecessary to dismiss the S.A.T.C. as a "Sad and Terrible Calamity," in undergraduate parlance, though it is nonetheless true that there was not enough time to iron out the kinks in the program and a serious epidemic of influenza in October intensified confusion. Collisions between the military command and the teachers were remarkably rare. ''A jolting experience," Rhees called the S.A.T.C. months, which influenced him to oppose seeking a Reserve Officers Training Corps for the college.
From first to last almost 900 men and women with U. of R. connections were enrolled in the national service. According to the final compilation of Professor Slater, admittedly incomplete, 850 men were in uniform, 283 as officers and 153 non-commissioned officers, and the names of twelve women college stood on the honor roll. Among the older alumni, William W. Gilbert, 1861, who had fought in the Civil War, donned a uniform again, and Joseph T. Alling, 1876, worked as a "Y" secretary.
Eleven U. of R. men perished by reason of the war, three of them on battlefronts. A bronze tablet on a wall in Todd Union (1968) recalls that "nearly nine hundred graduates former students and undergraduates of the University entered military service" and records the names of the eleven "who laid down their lives that the cause of liberty and honor might prevail." Sixteen younger Rochester teachers, likewise, went off to war, and two served under YMCA auspices. Packard, for instance, as a captain was an intelligence officer with the American Expeditionary Forces in Siberia--and on his return to the campus he promptly initiated study on the history of the Far East. His colleague, Captain Perkins, who as a private had found military life "vastly interesting from a sociological standpoint," was attached to the historical section of the army in France during the fighting and then worked at the Paris Peace Conference. A "Y" secretary in Paris, Professor Havens kept Campus readers well informed on his observations and experiences. On the home front, University scientists took over the work of the city health bureau and tested military equipment manufactured by Rochester firms; the entire teaching staff was involved, of course, in the S.A.T.C. Proudly Rhees proclaimed, "Our laboratories and their personnel, our classrooms and teachers, our whole equipment of men and appliances was dedicated to...victory." In an editorial that had the flavor of a sermon, the Campus declared, "Our armies in the name of truth and righteousness have saved the world from tyranny and greed.... May America escape the untamed forces of anarchy as she has escaped the crushing burden of autocracy!" 25
An instructive, delicate wartime controversy involved Professor Eiserhardt, cherished by Rhees as a "beloved comrade and colleague." On vacation in his German homeland when war came, Eiserhardt, a reserve lieutenant in the German army patriotically volunteered to drill recruits; he shared the widespread assumption that the fighting would all be over in a matter of months. That calculation turned out, of course, to be utterly false, and Rhees appealed successfully to the military authorities of Germany to release Eiserhardt so that he could resume teaching at the U. of where "his influence would be strong and valuable to his fatherland." Upon returning to Rochester, Eiserhardt occasionally spoke to city audiences on eminent German cultural workers of the past and indulged in "high-minded and patriotic utterances in behalf of his Fatherland."
As an enemy alien, as a menace suspected of espionage after the United States became a belligerent, Rochester censors of public virtue, influential U. of R. alumni and trustees among them, set up a hue and cry against Eiserhardt.and uncompromisingly demanded that he should be dismissed from the University staff. Not unique at all, the clamor had counterparts in many intense centers of American higher learning in a time of popular anxiety and feeling of insecurity. Colleagues of Eiserhardt unanimously expressed confidence in his integrity, not a scintilla of evidence suggested that he had done anything harmful to the American causes and Rhees sturdily defended the professor in the Rochester press. But a wave of mass hysteria overbore him, and Eiserhardt turned in his resignation in order to silence criticism and relieve the University of embarrassment. After the conclusion of hostilities, he was restored to the faculty and thereafter concentrated more on art history than on German literature. 26
As was so true eventually of other segments of the college enterprise, the impact of the war upon the student body in its varied aspects was profound. For the first time in 1915 registration had passed the 500 mark, about forty percent being women. A peak of 578 was reached in 1916 but then numbers declined markedly; more women than men attended the college in September, 1917, and by the autumn of 1918, only fifty-six men, either too young or otherwise disqualified for military duty, were on the campus, apart from those in the S.A.T.C. Yet by the spring of 1919 enrollment had bounded back to 551; for the academic year 1918-1919, reckoning in the S.A.T.C. , students numbered 633.
Fewer than ten percent of the undergraduates--much fewer in the case of the "co-ords"--lived more than a hundred miles from Rochester.
An investigation on the reasons why men matriculated (1913) at the U. of R. showed that the geographical location of the institution, the influence of alumni and undergraduates, the reputation of the college, and financial advantage were the prime considerations. Foreign students in 1917 totaled five: one each from Italy, Syria, and, China, and two from Burma whose fathers were Americans.
Down to the war, the honor code worked to the general satisfaction of the faculty, which sometimes obliged the student honor committee to impose stiffer penalties on wrongdoers than had been originally given. For the women the system was perpetuated, but shelved in wartime for the men, and after the war students voted down a revised honor code. Interest in the competition for the various prizes dwindled and in several years no contests at all were staged. To encourage the joys of learning, the Class of 1908 donated a Scholarship Cup to be awarded to the highest standing fraternity or the "neutral" body. If any group captured the cup three years in succession, the trophy would be retained by it permanently; no three-time winner emerged until after 1920. The Phi Beta Kappa Society restricted (1914) elections to one fourth of the number in a graduating class, honorary members included. The Genesee Valley Club was the site of the annual initiation and luncheon until 1917, when the luncheon was abandoned and initiation took place in the Anderson Hall chapel.
Before the war it was noted that impromptu campus singing was on the rise, stimulated doubtless by competition for excellence between the classes in annual song fests. Snappy new melodies came and departed like the proverbial tides of the sea. One student affirmed his affection for the college with lyrical intensity:
Come! Come! ye valiant sons of Rochester,
Forget your cares and let us raise a song for her
Let others boast of whatso'er may please them,
We'll sing the glories of our noble Rochester...
In 1916, the musical clubs undertook the longest concert season on record. Although the college orchestra disappeared, the Mandolin Club, buttressed by violins, flourished under the name of the "Rag-Pickers" or the "Syncopated Nine." Late in 1917 musical clubs stopped functioning, but they reappeared in the spring of 1919, and that was also the case with dramatic organizations, class and other undergraduate clubs, and class dances. Rhees endeavored to eliminate objectionable dancing by instructing musicians on what they should not play. 27
Time and time again, Campus editorials reproached fraternity men for exalting the interests of their particular society above the larger welfare of the college, and relations between Greek groups were recurrently strained by petty rivalries and spites. Half to counter these tendencies and half to bring a measure of orderliness into the "rushing" process, the Hellenic Council, which had fallen into desuetude, was revived, and some good was accomplished. As a war-measure to line up students, the Council sanctioned pledging of youths in Rochester schools before they actually matriculated at the college.
Later than the other older fraternities, Delta Kappa Epsilon decided to erect a home on the edge of the college grounds, and a lot (with an austere brick residence on it) was acquired directly across from the Prince Street entrance to the Campus. War conditions postponed the building of a chapter house and soon plans for a wholly new site for the Men's College caused the abandonment of the Prince Street project. When Jewish students belonging to Kappa Nu sought formal recognition of their society by the faculty and the Students' Association, the request was turned down; the outcome unloosed controversy in the Rochester press and on the campus. The faculty took the position that recognition could not be extended to any society whose membership was restricted to a single "religion or race," and the students adopted a similar stand. A spokesman of Kappa Nu flatly charged that recognition was denied because of "a narrow prejudice against the race [sic]" to which the members belonged and termed the verdict "an insult to American ideals. " It was not until 1931 that Kappa Nu attained equality with the other fraternities. 28
In the autumn of 1917 eleven men' of the 1920 class formed an organization called ETES, whose avowed objective was to counteract excessive allegiance of undergraduates to their fraternities and to accent "loyalty and service to the University." In spite of the disruptive consequences of the war, the group expanded its membership, and little by little became indistinguishable from a conventional fraternity. Adopting Sigma Delta Epsilon as its name, the society, which was formally recognized by the Students' Association in 1920, eventually obtained a (1932) charter from the national fraternity of Sigma Chi. A group of Seniors founded in 1914 a class society known as the Falcons for the twin purposes of reducing interfraternity jealousies and of promoting extracurricular activities, but the organization nearly died in its cradle.
After the entry of the United States into the war, the Greek societies tended to disintegrate. Satisfactory information is available only for Alpha Delta Phi, but doubtless its record was typical; resident membership dwindled to five and the chapter house was kept open by a couple of youths not in national service. Of the fifty-six Alpha, Delts in the classes from 1916 to 1921, forty-nine served with the armed forces. Nevertheless, by the spring of 1919 the active body had revived, twenty-four having returned to their studies. 29
As one sign of ever growing secularization, the annual Day of Prayer for the colleges was reduced to a meeting of one hour's duration, with academic classes as usual the rest of the day. Bulletins of the college, however, continued to announce that undergraduates were expected to attend church, that short chapel services were held regularly, and that Christian Associations were maintained for men and women. Advice was proffered in bulletins on the specific courses to be taken by undergraduates who thought of religious work in one form or another as a vocation; remorsefully, Rhees disclosed that not a single man of the 1917 class intended to enter the ministry. The Y. M. C. A. again was active, replacing the short-lived local men's Christian Union.
Extramural lecturers who addressed students included Harry W. Laidler, energetic secretary of the Intercollegiate Socialist Society, and the British man of letters, Alfred Noyes of "Barrel Organ" fame, the first appointee to the Rosenberger lectureship. Rightly guessing that Noyes would attract a huge crowd to hear him discourse on Shakespeare, the college authorities engaged the East High School auditorium for the lecture.
Beginning in 1914 and continuing until the outbreak of the war, the Campus resembled a standard newspaper in size; the quality of the newsprint and the type were decidedly improved. Sports, fraternity doings, the activities of debating, dramatic, and singing clubs dominated the pages, and frequently summaries of the weekly meetings of the Rochester City Club and columns of alumni notes were printed. To tone up the publication, professional Rochester newsmen addressed the Campus staff and in 1917 an honorary Greek-letter journalistic society, Delta Rho, was founded. So feeble were finances in 1915 that the discontinuance of the paper was considered.
Almost every year a "fun issue" was published; one in 1915 jauntily recounted the fictional burning of a fraternity house, a clash between the student military corps (which was gaily and maliciously lampooned in an editorial) and enemy invaders, the dismissal of "Prexy" for gambling in Kendrick Hall, and the marriage of Professor Havens (a lifelong bachelor) to a glamorous actress following a prolonged courtship. An apologetic editorial in a subsequent Campus reprimanded the editors who produced the "Xtra," as childish, discourteous, even indecent. A proposal for a coming magazine was discussed but died a-borning. Except for an ever larger array of pictures, the Interpres changed little from year to year.
Because of the war emergency, the size and type of the Campus were reduced in 1917, and the staff, which habitually had excluded news of the gentler sex from its columns, voted to print news about the women and even entertained suggestions to recruit women as reporters, but the Students' Association promptly turned down these revolutionary ideas. A "War Gossip" section on U. of R. men in the fighting services, letters from them, and the Honor Roll of the college were regular features, and there were occasional articles on China, prepared by a Chinese undergraduate, or on some aspect of the peculiar challenges of the time like the conservation of sugar. No Campus appeared in the autumn of 1918, but the paper was pretty much back to normal in 1919, even to the publication of a rollicking "Yellow Issue" sponsored by the "Liquor Interests" on the eve of the national experiment in Prohibition. 30
Athletics in this period passed through essentially the same cycle as student publications. So limited was the supply of football material that players (Freshmen included, for the rule against their participation had not yet been introduced) customarily played the entire game. When Rochester was mauled on the gridiron by much heavier Syracuse and Colgate clubs, undergraduates (and some alumni) demanded that these traditional rivals should be removed from the schedule. Splendid new Culver Road playing fields, as has been related, came into use in 1917. In the 1913 and 1914 seasons, basketball teams turned in excellent records, and Ezra A. Hale, 1916, who combined finesse in "defense and offense that has yet to be excelled" and was as much at home in a game "as a Mexican bandit in guerilla [sic] warfare," earned a secure place among the all-time U. of R. greats. Baseball remained in the doldrums, but hockey, soccer, and rifle clubs were launched.
After several false starts, the office of graduate manager to supervise intercollegiate athletics and certain other extracurricular diversions was instituted (1915) with Matthew D. Lawless, 1909, as the first incumbent. Alumni, who hired and paid the general manager, exercised considerable control over the intercollegiate athletic program, and sub rosa raised money to hire players, some of whom registered for only a term, dropping out after the season was over. "Prexy" prohibited tennis on the campus courts on Sunday and was much annoyed by stories of gambling at football matches. Until the end of 1917, sports, both intercollegiate and intramural, held to established patterns and then were abandoned, though they revived quickly in 1919.
Before the onset of the war, juvenile hi-jinks displayed familiar contours. Kendrick Hall was picked as the focal point of underclass battles, carousing and roystering and until the coming of the S.A.T.C.--and following its demise--Sibley Hall was the scene of boyish manifestations of hoodlumism and horseplay.
The revival of "college life" was heralded in January, 1919, by the customary all-student banquet, after which the Freshmen paraded into the city and invaded a theater, whose management protested vociferously to the college officers.
By way of assisting professional wreckers, undergraduates ripped lumber from the S.A.T.C. barracks, raised a fence around the Anderson statue, and boarded up the Prince Street gate. As for the improvised S.A.T.C. mess facilities, the administration decided that they would be kept for noontime meals, if the patronage warranted--which it did not. If any doubts lingered that the U. of R. had returned to a condition resembling "normalcy," they were dispelled by the reappearance of class banquets; Freshmen held their affair on a boat with the officers of the class of 1921 as captive yet very welcome guests. 31
Symbolizing the new chapter in women's education at Rochester, the Seniors in the spring of 1914 marched with their mascot from the Anderson "parlors" to the unfinished auditorium of Catharine Strong and conducted their class day exercises there. Unquestionably, the women's complex imparted a powerful impetus to the corporate life of the gentler sex; all manner of activities responded vigorously and in a sustained manner. "So different are your new surroundings... that it seems... almost as if you were attending a different college," an alumna reminded the undergraduates. The fine new home demanded appropriate new traditions, it was said.
As earlier, Croceus, the yearbook, most faithfully and almost alone chronicled the peculiar interests and diversions of the women. Successive issues paid high tribute to Mrs. Catharine H. Strong, Mrs. Rush Rhees, Dr. John P. Munn, Professor Slater, "our true friend and critic," Lewis H. Morgan, "in appreciation of his foresight and generosity," and George Eastman, because of "his kindly interest and generosity." Prose and poetic compositions, good and mediocre, held priority in the Croceus, though touches of whimsy were not absent. Many pieces of this type reflected the ongoing war in Europe. For example, "Why did the Russian army stop marching when it came to the Austrian frontier? Because it met a Czech." Or, "'Why don't the Magyars make good soldiers? Because Hung(a)ry soldiers do not fight well."
Wartime terms inspired a barrage of humor:
No man's land--Anthony Hall
Front line trench--The first row in Dr. Slater's classes
Over the top--Professor's explanations...
Before long, an entire section of the annual was allocated to athletics--tennis and basketball being especially favored. For swimming, the pool in the city YWCA was used, and many students resented a faculty rule that demonstrated ability to swim was prerequisite to winning a diploma. Apart from gymnastics, the Anthony facility, transformed into a "veritable fairyland," witnessed college dances and banquets. The "Y" earnestly fostered religious interests and acted as hostess in 1915 for a Student Volunteer convention of some 300 delegates from all over New York; daytime sessions of the conference convened in "Katie Weak," a label pinned on the women's hall by the men. Delegates to Silver Bay conferences were financed as usual by Kaleidoscope vaudeville evenings. Promoted by a very active Glee Club, music was enriched by a "New Alma Mater:"
Ever growing, ever brighter,
Lead thy daughters on,
'Till far distant climes and places
Sing thy triumphs won.
Before Catharine Strong had been fully completed, patrons of drama watched "The Cavalier," written by Slater and portraying "the irreconcilable conflict between the Puritan and the Cavalier spirit," with an all-girl cast. More memorable was "Mademoiselle Spectacles," an ambitious, original musical comedy replete with witty dialogue and gay melodies. A production of Seniors, every member of the class of 1916 took part in the s how with a solitary male actor drawn in for good measure. Half a century later actresses still recalled with pride the gala performance and on occasion hummed the well-remembered tunes of "Mademoiselle Spectacles."
In 1915 the Spring Day festival was staged on the lawn of a hospitable Prince Street neighbor of the women's center. For the first time a May Queen was chosen, and she had the children of faculty families as attendants. Dances, light-hearted speeches, and presentation of gifts to the Queen were features of the affair. 32
With the international sky darkening, money was collected for European prison camps, the education of a girl in China, and the multifarious work of the Red Cross. And when the American tocsin of war sounded, the Croceus editors observed, "We suddenly feel the weight of responsibility resting on our shoulders..." Students were enjoined to seek summer employment in industry, as farmerettes, or in some other way helpful to the country in its time of dire need. Sorority meetings concentrated on rolling bandages or knitting socks and sweaters. By 1918, the entire undergraduate body had become a Red Cross unit directed by a captain and eight lieutenants; all were committed to work at least an hour a week, and if one put in more than an hour she advanced to a higher rank than private.
From Paris, Professor Havens expressed gratitude to Dean Munro, who had knit a "wondrous" sweater, "heavy and soft" for him. Women students engaged in war relief activities and Liberty Bond campaigns and in the spirit of Florence Nightingale, several alumnae went overseas as nurses or on some other patriotic service. A poetess optimistically discerned in the million of war-borne tragedies "The future progress of the centuries." A second composed an ode "To An Aeroplane."
College parties and dances were "Hooverized," decorations evoked the environment of a military camp, and the national anthems of Britain and France were lustily sung. In October of 1918 a wave of influenza forced the suspension of instruction for nearly a month. Cessation of hostilities brought no immediate change, the Croceus related, in the need to save and sacrifice. "The words 'Soviet' and 'Bolshevik' are on every tongue...the League of Nations...is in danger of fading before the glare of self-determination..."
Undergraduates speedily resumed the customary round of activities. A proposal by Theta Eta sorority to seek national affiliation and build a house of its own was discouraged by Prexy as too expensive; non-sorority ladies organized a club called "The Phiddists." After the war, a Literary Club, dramatics, gymnastics, and sports attained larger dimensions than ever. Spring Day in 1919 was celebrated with pre-war eclat, featuring "Dances of the Allies" and a pageant with players decked out as Liberty Bonds or the Star-Spangled Banner or farmerettes, and the like.
War or no war, criticism of U. of R. males persisted and when Croceus mentioned the men, which was seldom, it was with withering cutting sarcasm. A cartoon titled "The Unavoidable Nuisance?" pictured women entering a college hall, with one man chivalrously opening the door, while a second turned thumbs down. The S.A.T.C., it was said, "laid its tax of inconvenience and sacrifice on. the women's college." Readers were bluntly informed that the University "also maintains a college for men who occupy some of the older buildings..." 33
For the academic year 1918-19, collegiate charges were raised. Tuition increased to $100 for three terms and incidental fees to $30, an overall rise of $19.
With one notable exception, Commencement festivities until the United States entered the war adhered to established norms. However, the annual President's reception was moved to the commodious Art Gallery and the Alumnae dinner was held in Anthony Hall. The most striking innovation was the alumni "Circle Night" replacing the old-time smoker and business meeting. Initiated in 1914, this affair was staged beneath a canvas surrounding the Anderson monument; festoons of electric lights stretched from tree to tree on the college grounds. Slater composed a "Circle Song," alumni wore yellow hats, heard speeches, laughed at vaudeville stunts, saw movies of the U. of R., devoured cider and doughnuts, and finished off with a hilarious snake dance around the campus and to the fraternity houses. So successful was the first venture that a Circle Matinee at the Newport House on Irondequoit Bay was added--reuning classes paraded in costumes, all comers watched a baseball game. At Circle Night in 1916 the attendance smashed all records; the men of 1876 invoked "The Spirit of '76" and let go with a yell:
Fourteen of us still this side of Styx.
Trustee Alling led resounding cheers for the man of 3R's--Rhees-sourceful, Rhees-sistless, Rhees-ceptive. The class of 1906 as a group turned over a sum of money for current college expenses, which the President welcomed as the beginning of "a definite Alumni Fund."
War overshadowed the Commencements of 1917 and 1918, and a spirit of consecration to the national cause prevailed. Sober patriotic rallies in the the Gymnasium replaced the jolly Circle Night; the class day dance and banquet for the Senior men were omitted, as were the Alling interclass debate and the usual Senior orations on graduation day. In 1917, nearly half of the male Seniors, under arms or working on farms, received war degrees in absentia ; vacant chairs, flag-bedecked, marked the places of the missing men. A storm of applause greeted a Senior wearing a Naval Reserve uniform. In the baccalaureate sermon, Rhees alluded to "an irrepressible conflict in God's great enterprise against evil" and adjured the young men, "As you go forth, do so with a high spirit, affirming God's enterprise of conquest over the jungle...You will know for a surety that in, the performance of your duty on God's side you will have God's help."
Patriotic hands-across-the-seas emotions flamed high in October of 1917, when the University, in an unprecedented convocation, conferred honorary doctorates for wartime labors upon Lord (later Viscount) Northcliffe, chairman of the British War Mission in the United States, and Justice William R. Riddell of Canada, who had come to Rochester primarily to take part in the dedication of a Chamber of Commerce building. Although he was unable to be present, a doctorate of laws was also awarded to Andre Tardieu, at the time the High Commissioner of France in the United States.
Despite intense German pressure on the fighting fronts of France, prospects of American and Entente victory looked bright by Commencement week of 1918, and the following June a mood of gratitude, a sense of deliverance pervaded the exercises; proceedings generally paralleled the 1917 occasion, except for the restoration in 1919 of Circle Night on a limited scale. The principal Commencement speaker of 1919, former Governor Samuel W. McCall of Massachusetts, sharply criticized the Paris treaties and the disruption of the Hapsburg Monarchy, which, he predicted, would gravely handicap the League of Nations experiment.
Exuberance during Commencement seasons and the annual alumni-giving custom were not the only evidences of rising alumni interest in and concern for the progress of the college. To tighten bonds among graduates, to promote alumni work, and to nominate candidates for the board of trustees, an Alumni Council was created (1915); the regional club in Boston recommended (1914) the establishment of an alumni magazine, while a group in Seattle talked of organizing a club--which did not come to fruition until 1961. Each issue of the college bulletin begged graduates who had written books or learned articles to deposit copies in Sibley Hall--an appeal, alas and alack, that was not always complied with. A special alumni committee was appointed (1917) to cooperate in the war effort.
With the blessing of Rhees, the idea of a permanent, salaried alumni secretary was widely discussed in activist graduate circles. Arguing the case, Ernest A. Paviour, 1910, who had busied himself with obtaining wider publicity for the University, wrote, "With a capable, paid officer... a well-organized alumni working body will produce new students and money in a way that will measure adequately the devoted allegiance of former students." When "Prexy" recommended that the holder of the proposed office should also function as executive secretary of the University, the trustees gave (1917) their approval. The first appointee, Raymond N. Ball, 1914, fresh from the battlefields of France, assumed his twin duties in 1919. 34
Throughout this period of sunshine and shadow, the University educated an impressive number of men and women who scored high marks in their chosen vocations. Two men of 1918 presided over institutions of higher learning: Kenneth I. Brown at Hiram College (where he successfully applied a plan of studying intensively one subject at a time) and Denison University, and Clarence C. Stoughton at Wagner and Wittenberg Colleges. The cause of learning at their Alma Mater was furthered by Harold L. Alling, 1915 (Geology), his classmate, Winfield W. Scott (Urology), and William J. Conley, 1918 (Engineering); Raymond L. Thompson, 1917, filled the offices of treasurer, senior vice-president, and trustee during a thirty-two year tenure at the University. Clarence Heer, 1914, taught Economics at the University of North Carolina, Harold F. Gosnell, 1918, Political Science at Chicago and American Universities, and Chen-Ping Ling, 1918, was a professor at Shanghai Commercial College; he came to Rochester on a Boxer indemnity scholarship and was the first U. of R. graduate of Chinese nationality.
Professional historians included Frank Nowak, 1917, Boston University, E. Dwight Salmon, 1917, Amherst, Floyd S. Lear, 1917, Rice Institute (later University), and Courtney R. Hall, non-graduate, 1917, Adelphi College and New York University. Gordon H. Gliddon, 1915, was professor of Optics at Dartmouth and Frederick J. Converse, 1914, professor of Soil Mechanics at California Institute of Technology.
Into government service went Harold Shantz, 1915, a consul at Hong Kong and Moscow who ended his career as minister to Rumania, Goodman A. Sarachan, 1918, New York State Supreme Court Justice, and Kenneth B. Keating, 1919, successively Congressman, United States Senator, the highest elective office ever achieved by a U. of R. graduate, and Justice of the New York Court of Appeals; in the citation read when Keating received a doctorate of laws (1954), he was trenchantly described as "a public servant who has won the respect of both political parties without the sacrifice of his personal integrity."
Raymond N. Ball, 1914, compiled a record of exceptional achievement, most notably in pivotal University offices, such as treasurer and chairman of the board of trustees, and as president of what grew into the Lincoln-Rochester Trust Company. Intelligence, imagination, and personal dynamism in civic affairs brought him honors in such abundance that they seemed to have been gathered without effort, almost automatically. Outstanding, too, in the realm of finance were John W. Remington, 1917, also president of the Lincoln-Rochester Trust Company, Elmer B. Milliman, 1919, president of the Central Trust Company of Rochester, and his classmate, Leo D. Welch, who advanced to the chairmanship of the Standard Oil Company of New Jersey and after that took a similar position with the Communications Satellite Corporation (Comsat). Vice-president of Eastman Kodak Company, James E. McGhee, 1919, likewise served on the University board of trustees as did Keating, Remington, Milliman, Welch, and Ezra A. Hale, 1916. 35
Among alumnae who achieved distinction in the academic profession were Mary E. Marsh, 1916, the first woman to earn a Ph.D. at the University and a research scientist in medicine at the University of California, Isabel K. Wallace, 1916, an administrator at the U. of R., Angeline H. Lograsso, 1917, professor of Italian at Bryn Mawr College and a noted Dante scholar, Virginia Moscrip, 1919, professor of Classics at Rochester, and Florence R. Van Hoesen, 1919, who taught Library Science at Syracuse University. Their classmate, Honora A. Miller, in the tradition of Portia, distinguished herself as the Rochester corporation counsel. Gertrude Herdle Moore, a member of the exceptional class of 1918 which matriculated in the year that the women's complex became available, attained national repute as director of the Memorial Art Gallery, while Norma Storey Spinning, 1918, was the first alumna to enter the University board of trustees, chosen on the fiftieth anniversary of the admission of women to the college; later on Josephine Booth Hale, 1917, was elected to the trustee body by the graduates. At a convocation commemorating the hundredth anniversary of the founding of the University, a University award was presented to Margaret C. Klem, 1918, who had become Chief, Medical Program Branch of Industrial Hygiene in the Division of Public Health; to her credit are many learned publications on medical care and its costs. 36
Back to: History of the University of Rochester Homepage
Footnotes for Chapter 17
- Campus, XLI, June 8, 1916. E, G. Miner to Rush Rhees, June 23, 1914. Rhees Papers. Clarence M. Platt, 1906, to Rhees, Nov. 2, 1916. Ibid. Rhees to Frank L. Babbott, Jan. 25, 1919. Ibid. Executive Committee Minutes, VII, December 20, 1916.
- Campus, XXXIX, Feb. 17; April 7, 1914. Rush Rhees to Frank Padelford, April 19, 1919. Rhees Papers. Rhees to George Eastman, May 14, June 3, 1919. Ibid. Eastman to Rhees, June 2, 1919. Ibid. Science, LXXV, April 15, 1932, 405. President's Report 1919. Trustee Records, V, 1919. Once more, it must be repeated, that disparities exist in the records of college finance. A tabulation for mid-1919, compiled apparently in 1923, gives plant assets at $1,628, 000, endowment $1,690, 000, total disbursements, $196,000, and total income $196,000, "Financial History from September 1899 to June 1923..." Rhees Library Archives.
- Campus XXXIX, December 9, 1913. John R. Slater, "Ewald Eiserhardt." Rhees Library Archives.
- Campus, XXXIX, Nov. 11, 1913. Interpres, LXV (1923).
- Campus, XXXIX, Nov. 4, 1913. Ibid., L, Feb. 6, 1925. H. Stuart Hughes, ed., Teachers of History: Essays in Honor of Laurence Bradford Packard (Ithaca, New York, 1954), pp. 1-5. Laurence B. Packard to Rush Rhees, July 10, 17, 1919. Rhees Papers. The Cloister, June, 1925.
- Campus, XL, April 22, Sept. 30, 1915. Glyndon G. Van Deusen, 1925, and Richard C. Wade, 1943, eds., Foreign Policy and the American Spirit (Ithaca, New York, 1957), pp. v-xiii. Current Biography, XIX (1958), pp. 331-332. Henry VIII, Act IV, Scene 2, ll. 51-54. For an interesting appraisal of Perkins' approach to history, see Anne L. Mooney, "Dexter Perkins: A Study in American Diplomatic Philosophy," a doctoral dissertation at Saint Louis University, 1965.
- Rush Rhees to Edwin Fauver, March 19, 1912, Jan. 14, 1913, March 8, June 8, 1916. Rhees Papers. Campus, XLII, Sept. 21, 1916. Ibid., Oct. 28, 1917. Interpres, LXII (1921); Ibid., LXXVI (1935), 141; R D&C, Dec. 18, 1949.
- Rush Rhees to H. F. Burton, July 13, 1914. Rhees Papers. Executive Committee Minutes, VII, Dec. 20, 1916. Trustee Records, V, June 17, 1919. T.A. Miller, 1907, to Rhees, July 9, 1919. Rhees Papers.
- Faculty Minutes, VI, May 28, 1915, June 17, Nov. 14, 1916, Feb. 7, 1918. Ibid., VII, May 18, 1919. Report of the Freshman Dean, President's Report, 1928-1929.
- Faculty Minutes, VI, March 3, April 7, 1915, May 3, October 4, 1916, February 28, 1918. For Agricultural Improvement Association, see Edward G. Miner to Rush Rhees, February 10, 1913. Rhees Papers. Hiram W. Sibley to Rhees, June 8, 1914. Ibid. New York Times, April 8, 1918. Campus, XLII, January 11, 1917.
- Hilda G. Kingslake, "The History of the Optical Society of America," (1966), p. 5. Rhees Library Archives. Faculty Minutes, VI, December 2, 1914.
- Executive Committee Minutes, IV, June 26, 1912.
- Campus, XLVII, Oct.6, 13, 1922.
- New York Times, April 13, 1913. Christian Brinton, "The Rochester Memorial Art Gallery," International Studio, III (1914), 203-204. Marion Leek Fass, 1935, "History of the Memorial Art Gallery From 1913 to 1935," an unpublished master's thesis, U. of R. 1935. Rhees Library. Rush Rhees to John Gade, June 29, 1915. Rhees Papers.
- Rochester Post-Express, August 8, Dec. 9, 1912. Trustee Records, IV, June 17, 1913. Interpres, LVII (1915), advertisement 46. Mrs. Henry Alvah Strong to Alan Valentine, January 16, 1944. Valentine Papers. Roberta Peters McFarland, op. cit. Rush Rhees to W. Sherwood Fry, February 2, 1922. Rhees Papers.
- Executive Committee Minutes, VI, Feb. 12 , 1915. RAR, XVIII (1940), no 5, 19, 1917. Campus, XLIII, Nov. 15, 1917.
- Rush Rhees to Hiram W. Sibley, April 9, 1917. Rhees Papers. Rhees to Francis R. Welles, 1875, Oct. 22, 1917. Ibid. Campus, XLI, Nov. 18 1915. J.T. Wyer, Jr. , to Rush Rhees, July 1, 1916. Edward G. Miner Papers, Box 193. Rhees Library Archives. Interpres, LVI (1914), 36.
- Attitudes and emotions in the college community inescapably responded to moods and movements in the city. See McKelvey, III, Chapter X. Campus, XL, Feb. 4. 1915.Ibid., XLI, April 13, May 11, 18, 1916. Ibid., XLII, March 15, 1917. Parker, Gilbert to Rush Rhees, Sept. 15, 1914 Rhees Papers.
- Interpres, LVII (1915), 187-188. Ibid., LIX (1917). 145-150. Campus, XL, May 29, 1915. Ibid., XLI, April 27, 1916: Rush Rhees to R.W. Matson, non-graduate 1917, et al., June 24, 1916. Rhees Papers.
- Campus, XLII, Feb. 18, 1917, April 12, 19, May 10, 1917. Rush Rhees to Charles Ashbrook, Jan. 13, 1917. Rhees Papers. Rhees to Augustus Downing, April 3, 1917. Ibid. Rhees to A.D. Dean, May 3, June 27, 1917. Ibid. Faculty Minutes, VI, April 11, May 2, 1917.
- Rush Rhees to Henry T., Noyes, 1894, April 13, 1917. Rhees Papers. John R. Slater to Rhees, July 25, 1917. Ibid. Campus, XLIII, Feb. 8, 1918. Interpres, LX (1918), 84-85.
- Campus, XLII, Oct. 25, Nov. 1, 1917. Ibid., XLIII, Jan. 31, Feb. 8, 1918. Rush Rhees to W.D. Merrell, 1891, Nov. 26, 1917. Rhees Papers. RAR, XVIII (1940), no. 5, 25.
- Campus, XLII, Oct. 11, 1917. Ibid., XLIII, June 6, 1918.
- On the broader aspects of the war era, consult, Charles F. Thwing, The American Colleges and Universities in the Great War (New York, 1920), and Parke R. Kolbe, The Colleges in War Time and After (New York, 1919); War Department regulations affecting the S.A.T.C. are reprinted on pp. 269-297. Executive Committee Minutes, VIII, Sept. 7, 1918. A sheaf of materials on the S.A.T.C. reposes in Rhees Library Archives, and Interpres, LXI (1919), passim, contains a great deal of enlightening information. RAR, XVIII (1940), no. 5, 25. R D&C, Dec. 8, 1918.
- Interpres, XXI (1919) 10, 11, 18 ff., Campus, XLIV, May 2, 1919. Ibid., XLV, Oct. 3, 1919. Dexter Perkins to Rush Rhees, Sept. 29, 1918. Rhees Papers. Annette G. Munro to Rhees, June 7, 1919. Ibid. President's Report, 1918-1919.
- Campus, XL, Nov. 12, 1914, Jan. 21, Feb. 4, 1915. Ibid., XLIII, April 18, 1918. Rush Rhees to Ambassador James W. Gerard, Nov. 16, 1914. Rhees Papers. Rochester Post-Express, April 9, 10, 11, 12, 15, 16, 1918. Rochester Herald, April 15, 1918. Carl Carmer, Listen to a Lonesome Drum (New York, 1936), pp. 38-39.
- Campus, XXXIX, Dec. 6, 1913. Ibid., passim, 1916-1919. Interpres, LVII (1917), 190.
- R U&A, March 1, 2, 1916. Campus, XLI, March 9, 1916. Ibid., XLIII, Feb. 14, 1918. Faculty Minutes, VI, Nov. 7, 1917, Jan. 21, 1918. Rush Rhees to Lewis Gannett, 1912, Jan. 17, 1923. Rhees Papers. Campus, LVI, Jan. 26, 1931.
- Charles R. Dalton, 1920, "History of Gamma Pi Chapter of Sigma Chi Fraternity" (1965), typescript in Rhees Library Archives. Interpres, LVI (1914), 97. Campus, XXXIX, May 6, 1914. Morris, "Alpha Delta Phi," 13 ff.
- Campus, XL, May 13, 20, 1915. Ibid., XLIV, May 30, 1919.
- Campus, XLI, Oct. 15, Dec. 9, 1915, June 8, 1916. Ibid., XLIV, Feb. 21, 1919. Interpres, LVIII (1919), 179. For an informative survey of the status of physical education in 1916, see, Edwin Fauver to Lee DuBridge, May, 1941. Valentine Papers.
- Campus, XXIX, April 21, 1914. Cloister Window, I, June 19, 1926. Croceus, VI, 1915. Ibid., VII, (1916), 152. Ibid., IX (1918), 151.
- Croceus, VIII (1917), 160. Ibid., X (1919), 100, 101. Ibid., XI (1920), 192.
- Executive Committee Minutes, VI, .March 19, 1915. Interpres, LX (1918), 64. Trustee Records, IV, March 3, 1917. R U&A, June 16, 18, 19, 1917. R T-U, June 17, 18, 1918. Ibid., June 16, 17, 18, 19, 1919.
- RAR, VIII (1930), no. 4, 108 (Brown). Ibid., X (1949), no. 3, 27; New York Times, Oct. 22, 1949 (Stoughton). R T-U, Jan. 11, 1962 (Thompson). Campus, LVIII, March 18, 1933; R T-U, Aug. 11, 1964 (Ling). R D&C, March 16, 1963 (Gliddon). Ibid., Nov. 18, 1935, July 28, 1952 (Shantz). Ibid., Oct. 9, 1966; Brighton-Pittsford Post, Oct. 13, 1966 (Ball). See, Alan Valentine to David Worcester, May 27, 1946 (Ball). Valentine Papers.
- Bryn Mawr Alumnae Bulletin, XLVI (Summer 1965), 26-27 (Lograsso); RAR, XI (1950), no. 5, 8; R D&C, June 4, 1966 (Spinning).