University of California Berkeley - Blue and Gold Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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Thence forward all college exercises were conducted at Berkeley, instructors and students coming daily by horse-car from Oakland. The buildings in Oakland were sold and removed. Webster Street and Thirteenth Street were cut through the old campus. College Hall was removed to the corner of Twelfth and Harrison Streets, and converted into a livery stable. It was said that they had turned out the asses and had taken in horses. The old Brayton Hall was moved to the corner of Twelfth and Webster Streets and now is the home of a drinking saloon and the headquarters of a socialist organization. The small building, of three rooms, that had been erected for an administration building, was moved to the corner of Fourteenth and Webster Streets and for a time was occupied by The Home of Truth ; which raises a question as to what it was before. As I run on with these reminiscences, incidents grave and gay come trooping along, but I think it likely that I have already exceeded the limits set for me. I have had more than a little pleasure in recalling the four years spent in Oakland and in contemplating the changes that have taken place within the memory of many of us. Last May (1910) eight of the twelve graduates of 1873 had dinner together at the home of Frank Otis in Alameda. From an institution of ten instructors and thirty- five students, I have seen it grow to an institution of three hundred instructors and four thousand students, not including the summer session, attended this past year by one thousand. It is gratifying to see such growth. It is a pleasure to have been a part of it. GEORGE C. EDWARDS. 20

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If from among the number of people well known to the students in the early days of the University, one was to be selected whose comradeship was and is most appre- ciated, it would be Joseph Le Conte, the seeker after truth. My class came under his instruction for three years. The subjects were Botany. Zoology and Geology. V(j sat about a twelve-foot kitchen table that was covered with green oil-cloth, and took notes while Professor Joe with clasped hands walked up and down the room and talked on the subject that he had prepared for the day. It was his custom to spend at least two hours in the preparation of each lecture to be delivered before the class, no matter how familiar the subject was to him. Every now and again when desiring to emphasize a particular thought he would come to one corner of the table, rest one or both hands upon it. and look around into the faces of the members of the class, as in his inimitable way he would drive the thought home. It was just at this period that he was having his great wrestle with science and religion. He emerged from the contest with profound conviction, and reverence for each as a form of truth. Professor Joe with parties of students made horseback camping trips to the - -ra. where he rested, worshipped, studied, loved and grew. During the last year that my class was under his instruction there were twelve of the original twenty-five. He frequently referred to the class as the twelve apostles, but sometimes as the twelve s pokes of a wheel. If you had known the class, you would appreciate the latter comparison. I remember that in the course of Botany. Professor Joe was describing the great power in cell growth, and illustrated by telling of an experiment that had been conducted by some one. with a pumpkin, on which a platform some three feet square had been placed and then loaded with weights. A carefully constructed scale was used to indicate the rise of the platform from day to day. As it rose, more weight was added, until finally the power of growth was overcome and the pumpkin was crushed. One of the members of the class wanted to know of Professor Joe if that was the origin of the squash. Graduation time came : the competitive examination for the University medal was over (I didn ' t get it) ; the class dinner, at seventy-five cents per plate, had been partaken of at Barnum ' s Restaurant, corner of Seventh and Broadway, the Bacca- laureate sermon had been preached by Dr. McLean, and the Pacific Coast Alumni A ociation had had their dinner in the Grand Central Hotel. Nobody connected with the University lived in Berkeley. Berkeley was an area of farm land that lay some five miles to the north of Oakland. However, in anticipation of the removal of the University from Oakland to Berkeley a horse-car line had been built and was in operation semi-occasionally. Commencement Day we bundled onto a lot of flat cars that had wooden benches on them, and went out to the future home of the University. At Berkeley the class of ' 73 took formal possession of the grounds and buildings (two of them.) The exercises were held in the assembly room of the College of Letters, now North Hall. Governor Booth and President Gilman deliv- ered the principal addresses.

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The Eighties The classes of the eighties have sometimes been called the connecting link between the older and the newer University, and we are quite content with the title and our position between the probably arboreal of the seventies and the homo sapiens of today. When we started in the battalion consisted of but three small companies clothed in the brigadier general ' s uniform described by Colonel Edwards the frock coat and the slouch hat. The brass buttons of this uniform were fastened on with loops, the design being to allow the substitution of cloth buttons when the wearer, not on military duty, wished to use the coat as Sunday best. In those days the needs of the impecunious student were considered, and the elaborate class assess- ments and society dues of today were unknown. Even the officers ' insignia were movable silver stars, and I well remember the flutter occasioned by General Welcker ' s order that these should be worn on the collar. Confederate fashion, rather than on the shoulder. The protest was successful, and the order withdrawn. Athletics in those days were very simple. The only gymnasium was the open air. and the only apparatus was a couple of cannon balls. I remember well an impromptu track meet arranged when Moody of ' 80 pitted himself against the redoubtable Sherrod Williams of ' 79 in a hundred-yard dash past the Le Conte Oak, and the murmurs of the co-eds over the scantiness of attire worn by the runners. Football, if it so can be called, was by twenties when it was not by whole classes, and the famous game between ' 80 and ' 81 ended in a class rush over the possession of the ball. Eighty had won the game and was entitled to the ball, when fleet- footed Jim McGillivray ( ' 81) got possession of it and started off down Ellsworth Street from the field, which was where the Pacific Theological School now stands.