University of San Francisco - USF Don Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

Page 10 text:

The New Faculty Building George K. Devine, ‘22. TO some educational institutions a new building is a mere matter of course. Progress in material appointments,—in buildings, in scientific equipments, in libraries, in athletic amphitheatres, in campus extension and improvement, and so on through all the appurtenances of college life,—is a mere matter of regular routine. With St. Ignatius College it is different. Though the oldest institution of higher learning in San Francisco, with a proud record of achievement in the moral and intellectual order, she is poor in the material things of this earth, and like the poor child who has received what to the children of the rich would be an insignificant toy, she rejoices in comparatively small things and perhaps, with a little more enthusiasm than her more fortunate sisters in the college world. Content to keep the even tenor of her way she is happy even in the thought of her continued existence during years of trial and sacrifice and there is something of rapture in the happiness which she experiences in the slightest indication of materia! growth and expansion. To her the new Faculty Ibiilding means more than mere growth; it marks a distinct epoch in her history, and it opens vistas of future success that are as encouraging as they are full of golden promises. Conscious ever that the building does not make the college, she is not unmindful of the fact that the work of education is assisted by outward respectability and that it is, of its nature, worthy of being carried on in classic balls and in an atmosphere of architectural beauty and attractiveness. That the new Faculty Building is a very gem of architecture no one who has seen it will deny. It resembles a long stretch of the brown-fronted dwellings on Fifth Avenue, New York, or recalls an entire block of the Corso in Rome, with its extending balconies and broad windows and evi-

Page 9 text:

To Her I Love Best THERE’S a woman I love beyond tongue could declare, She is all the wide world to me; Her gentle smile vanished, this land were a void From whose gloom I would eagerly flee. Yet her Summer day’s past and the Autumn of life Is beginning to silver her hair And to dim that bright vision whose lustre serene With Hesperus once might compare. Oh! I know there are dames far more youthful and With beauty and riches galore, | grand, Bejewelled, brocaded, as stately as queens— You may find them on every shore. As they all pass before me in brilliant array, Each in grandeur surpassing the other, Not one—no, not all ta’en together could fill The place of my own darling MOTHER. JOHN WALSHE

Page 11 text:

XEW FACrLTY BUILDING 9 deuces of solidity. To describe it is difficult, to describe it alone without reference to its magnificent, setting,—the Church of St. Ignatius, which is an accomplished reality and the College which is a future possibility,—would be to give but an incomplete picture of the old historic institution that began amid tin sand hills of what is now Market Street and that is destined to adorn Ignatian Heights. The Faculty Building is only a part of an interesting group of buildings, that are or are to he, and though an important part,—it seems to baffle description. “There it is,M one might say, “behold it in its severe monastic simplicity, admire it as a generous gift to St. Ignatius Church and College, recognize in it an admirable and faithful exemplification of the architecture of the Italian Renaissance, but do not expect an elaborate description of what is, in itself, remarkable for nothing more than its unobtruding grandeur and humble usefulness.' We must, therefore, view the entire institution to understand the significance of this particular part and to view it to advantage we shall take our stand on one of the city 's many hills. Buena Vista, as it is appropriately called, rises in wooded grandeur in the very heart of the city. From its summit we may command a wonderful panoramic view. Beginning at the southeast we can follow the almost uninterrupted line of the bay shore. The world argosies, the grey ships of war, the hurrying ferryboats with their long white wake of seething foam, out beyond the smoking chimneys of industry and the rugged tops of the sturdy warehouses whence the treasures of fruitful California ore sent forth to the world,—all these unite to give one an impression of the business-like spirit of the great metropolis of the West. In front of us lies the main thoroughfare of the city, with tiny specks of mortals hurrying to and fro on pleasure or on business. Beyond this scene of bustling activity we gaze with pride upon the tower of the Ferry Building, which