Butler University - Carillon / Drift Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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Butler ttinitoergttp X the summer of 1875, Northwestern Christian University was re- moved from Indianapolis to its present site in Irvington, and two years later, in recognition of the gifts of Ovid Butler, the name of the institution was changed to Butler University. The main building was the only one erected at the time of the removal, the others being added gradually at later periods. The dormitory was built in 1882, and at first both boys and girls resided there. The observatory was added in 1889, Burgess Hall and the power house in 1890. the gymnasium in 1892, and the library in 1903. At this time Burgess Hall was known not as the science building, but as the preparatory building, for a goodly number of the students were in the preparatory department, and their recitations were held there. Prior to the erection of the gymnasium building the large room on the second floor of Burgess Hall, now occupied by the physic- department, was used for physical training. ( )n the third floor of this building, the room which is now the museum, was occupied by the library. In the main building the girls ' study hall was on the first floor, the boys room was on the south side, and the third floor rooms were used as club rooms by several flourishing literary societies.

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The student body was not large. In ' 60-61 there were seventy-six students; in ' 61-72, seventy-three; in ' 62-63, fifty-three. In 1803 there was only one grad- uate, H. C. Griffin. Manv of the most promising students had left for the battlefield, but within the college walls were fought miniature battles among the student sympathizers of both sides of the conflict. Out of six seniors of the class of ' 61, three enlisted. J. W. Daugherty. G. W. Spahr and P. J. Squire. The latter was killed at Shiloh. From the other classes went also Henry C. Long. John C. Duncan. L. Mothers- head. John I. Morris and John Denton. Chauncey Butler, now secretary of the college, was in ' 64 a prep, only fifteen years old. Nevertheless, he enlisted and went to the front. Ex-President Butler enlisted in February of 1862, and saw three years of hard military service. He was in the battles of Atlanta, Missionary Ridge and Lookout Mountain. Joseph Gordon, of the class of ' 63, whose picture hangs on the east wall of the chapel, went out with the first troops that enlisted from Indiana. It was in the spring of ' 61. The men enrolled under the first call were enlisted for a period of three months, and sent to Virginia. In whatever part of the state they had been recruited, they were brought to Indianapolis and fitted out. preparatory to being sent to the front. They came into town from day to day in unordered squads, were taken out to camp, formed into companies and regiments, uni- formed, furnished with arms and equipments, and after proper drill and prepara- tion, the well ordered columns, with knapsacks on their backs and arms at right shoulder-shift, marched through the streets on their way to take the train. And with one of these regiments marched Joseph Gordon. There is fun in camp; the soldier has no care; the responsibility of the future belongs to others. He lives from hour to hour; his wants are in some sort pro- vided for, and no further act of his is required. And so, song and jest and jollity go on. There are hard lines in camp life, discomfort, weariness and waiting, a dreadful monotony sometimes that grows maddening. So it is with soldiering, and so it is with life. Joseph Gordon learned all this. For a short time he lived it. It was in the mountains of Virginia, he made acquaintance with cold and hunger. After days of toil he found sleep sweet on the cold, bare ground. Thirst parched his lips, and his eye grew bloodshot with vigils on lonely picket station. He was grimed with the soil of earth, and coarsest fare furnished him nourishment. Btrt he lived the free and careless life of camps, and his heart swelled with pride at making part of war ' s pageantry. When song and jest went ' round, his voice piped in boyish treble among the notes that swelled from coarser throats. Put although we live regardless of the future, heedless of what the morrow may bring in store for us, the inevitable hour comes to meet tis. One day when with his comrades Joseph Gordon rushed in deadly charge across a lead-swept field panting, not more from physical exhaustion than from exaltation of spirit, joyous with the fierce joy of battle, confident, victorious; in that moment there came one lightning flash of agony and death claimed him. So he died at seventeen, and the fair promise of his life was blotted out with a musket shot. He died a boy, but he died with men, and his spirit goes march- ing on. A. F.

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i ecoUecttons of a jformer Student OME tiling ' s were different nineteen years ago. and some were alike. For instance, those were the days when the city students were often late, as they still are: the street cars were always to blame. Then the street car company was experimenting with divers ways of transportation (of course trying to find the best). First a storage battery car tried to run, but more often it was standing with a carload of students anywhere between Indianap- olis and Irvington. Then a steam dummy really did run. ami one day oil the track. with fatal results. In those days the gay and festive Prep was much in evidence under the guidance of Dominie Wilson. But the principal of Burgess Hall was not the only member of the faculty who was fortunate enough to have a nickname — pri- vately, of course. Uncle Billy presided in Professor Johnson ' s room, scared the young women so that they forgot all they knew, and told funny stories in chapel — nearly always about his most intelligent cow. Then chapel was held every day. The boys sat on one side, the girls on the other. There was the same platform, but no green carpet, and only one of the forefathers gazed down on us from their frames. Tuesday mornings we reported our attendance at church and chapel. The faculty conducted the devotionals. and we always knew whom to expect. Caps and gowns were first worn vh m the writer was a senior. His cap was snatched from him one day, and a vain chase across the campus did not catch the naughty under-graduate, though the cap was afterwards returned. The Dorm sheltered both boys and girls in those days, and it was no un- common thing for the fellow who was starting to see his best girl to get a bucket of water thrown upon him as he went downstairs. Rumor says, too, that the girls used to hide alarm clocks which would go off at embarrassing intervals during the young man ' s call. It is even told that in those days a certain student — whcse daughters are now in college — was responsible for a cow getting into the chapel, and he finished his college course in good standing, too. Class scraps were quite the proper thing, participated in by the young women as well as by the young men. How proud were the young women of a certain senior class when they appeared in chapel wearing red class hats, but pride must have a fall, and the hats disappeared. But revenge is sweet, and under-graduates ' hats disappeared also, and some young ladies were hatless for several weeks, until the faculty stepped in and demanded that the hats be returned to both parties on a cer- tain day. at a certain hour. The ' students at one of the boarding houses made up the Spread Klub. Nothing need be said of the grub which the good woman furnished. The recol- lection of one of the students guarding another one with a revolver while he was getting coal which the landlady thought was going too fast, brings a smile. But the allotted space is gone, and there can be only a passing mention of Ben Dailey ' s red mittens, the filling of the president ' s office with hay. the painting of Buck ' s (the manager of the dorm ) white turkeys red after a great football vic- tory, and various other things. The writer had no part in any of these things, and only tells them as they were told to him. If he were to be a college boy again, he rather thinks that he would have. But he is glad for those days at Butler, and equally glad for the privilege of coming back through the years, and finding a college course whose ideals are high, and whose students were then, and are today, a fine lot of young men and women interested beneath their fun and prinks in the things which make for a true education. E. H. CLIFFORD.