Haverford College - Record Yearbook (Haverford, PA)

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tor a third floor hideout with books, hi-fi, cat, and wife. All he has rescued from Ruritania is .1 Tyrol- cm -1.1 it which he is unashamed to wear, although it nuke- him look like an officer, .1 hell-hoy, or just plain friend. Having been in hanking, he could no longer endure the odium of parasite with which his father-in-law stigmatized him; he transferred from University of Pennsylvania and became our German travel agent. For Mike Smith, who doesn ' t even have to worry about surviving MaeCatfrey, the problem is what to do when one does survive. As a sophomore and junior, Mike lived with elder compatriots in student government. So when senior year came ' round and the cabal had vanished into the outer world, he followed as far as he could without getting beyond walking distance of Chase Hall. Still, other adjust- ments had to be made. To replace the fondly remem- bered revels of the Council room, he tried dramatics, journalism, even studies. It was no go. Morose mel- ancholy set in. He snarled at freshmen. He even thought of getting a date. Finally the only thing left to do was graduate, and that Mike did as quickly as possible. The truth which he would never admit was that Mike was too brillant not to get bored with Haverford. Frank Parker was consistently regarded as the campus logician, although it was as much a term of opprobrium to some as of praise to others. By carefully determining wh.it was being said, and clearly explaining its error, he alone justified the glorious claims of the Socratic method. At last word he was writing lucid philosophy, in the sultry Mexican sun. While Professor Parker prepares to publish, Johnathan Bennett, trained in the English tradition of strict logic and thorough scholarship, is replacing him. He more than compensates for making his students think before they write, and even under- stand their subjects, by his warm and sympathetic interest in them, and the pleasure we have in his brisk gait, felicitous witticisms and delightful British accent. Back, this time from India, Douglas Steere again walked amongst us, the incarnation of Quaker Virtue and Love. Because he so well speaks for the peace of mysticism and Christian living he epito- mized both every heretic ' s concept of Christianity ' s faults, and every believer ' s concept of its rewards. Dr. Steere specialized in courses on religious thought which were eagerly attended by those who either didn ' t mind the very penetrating but slightly sub- jective analysis, or welcomed it. If it is not too symbolic to see in this kindly professor, Haverford ' s issue of virtue vs. truth personalized, then in him also we see the issue nobly resolved. The only member of the Philosophy department Thirteen

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The Abstract Sciences History and Philosophy Thomas Drake is the head of the History Depart- ment and the sole professor of the history of our fair land. By a happy combination of Quakerliness, friendliness, and provocative teaching, he serves Haverford indispensably. Simply and efficiently he supervises the priceless stock in the Treasure Room. In the classroom discussions, also handled simply and efficiently, he inspires in all but the most callous freeloader a love for books, any book, all books. The occasional but apparently constant assignment of book reports transforms desire in to necessity. His academic forte is the ideological trends in our fair land. His pedagogic forte is his own fine personality. In each class period, it takes Wallace MacCaffrey half an hour of fast talking to list the next reading assignment. After that come the impossible questions: What do you make of this week ' s reading? . . . A small voice asks where a picture of Hugh Capet can be found. Well, try page 207 of Cassier; which of course brings us to the larger question: What is feudalism? Mr. MacCaffrey ' s future wife may be able to keep him from wearing maroon shirts with tweed jackets, but his basic pedagogical method — wide reading and exacting discussion — should survive married life. Unquestionably, it teaches the student an alarming amount of history, and besides, that ' s the way we did it at Reed College. Guess what MacCaffrey said today? I know . . . Cod-pieces went out of fashion by the end of the 19th century. Even when J.B. gleefully bounds in to relate this, or a morbid tale of torture under Casmir II, he is, irrevocably, a gentleman-scholar. From his grand- father ' s shaving brush and his copy of Pennsylvania Finances: 1682 to his recent discovery of B.M.C., J. B. Rhoads suggests a reassuring blend of tradition and spontaneity. To his roommates he is associated with black powder experiments and bounding down the stairs armed with sundry containers of water. But these frequent descents from the ivory tower of scholastic medievalism arc only temporary, and he reascends convinced that history is a firm base for the aspiring physician. The aspiring history teacher must also survive MacCaffrey. Fritz Renken really isn ' t a hermit, he ' s married, having exchanged his ancestral domain

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who dared to slant even Stoicism into his own brand of German idealism, was Martin Foss. His lectures entranced the devout, frustrated the opposition, and bored the indifferent. His accent amused or con- fused students. His love of the human spirit (as exemplified in friendship) was either avidly expounded or violently rejected. Hardly any less than the other philosophers, he demanded accurate logic in assigned papers; but a little more than they, he expected this logic to lead to certain specified conclusions. For those who reversed the First Cause, he was the Inspiring Teacher. Paragon of the Inspired Student is Gerald Wither- spoon. Gerry was once a Fundamentalist; now he thinks. He is so devoted to the pursuit of Truth, that the drop of a pin, or over-generalization sends him into a Scholastic fury. Frustrated by the clumsy syllogisms of guiding student government, he retired from the secretari.it, into the more congenial groups like the Philosophy Club, and Mr. Bennett ' s Peripa- tetic scholars. Devoted hardly less to the pursuit of Friendship than of Truth, he displayed at all times the happy smile and attractive personality essential in the truly rounded intellect. Wandering in from McKeesport, Ralph Barlow set his sixth sight upon medical school. By his second year, he had found a better way of life, and plunged into the awaiting arms of the philosophy club and department; thereby quickly elevating himself to the clouds to search for Truth. However, he did come to earth periodically, to manage basketball and tennis and to serve as chairman on the Honor System Committee. Then he would return to the realms of mysticism which disturbed roommates for he often failed to function in carrying out his mundane duties. However, Ralph managed to combine the Ultimate with the More Immediate in sufficient pro- portion- to obtain his A.B. in philosophy. Oppressed by the materialism and impersonality of Harvard, Newell Mack transferred to Haverford, delved into Philosophy, and in spite of its material- ism, majored in Biology. It was no wonder that he found Harvard impersonal; his own affability, sincer- ity, and depth, made superficiality with him im- possible. He studied assiduously, argued perceptively, and lived (except for a disheveled haircut) im- peccably. His hard working with plenty of time for bull sessions, may seem contradictory, but, after all, Isn ' t Truth the synthesis of apparent contra- dictions? Bob Broughton was one of the few fellows who managed to lead a sensible life and enjoy it. The rigors of the Political Science Department taught him the habit of doing his work very thoroughly, rather faithfully, and almost punctually. But the ineluctable complexities of metaphysics enticed him to devote to philosophy the major portion of those hours beside the midnight lamp on Featherbed Lane. Sauntering leisurely over the campus with his bright smile, he habitually trapped his friends in discussions of Descartes or Machiavelli, Malthus or Kant himself. Both his affability and his attitude were summed up in his favorite cliche, It ' s a hard life, but it ' s great. Fourteen