University of Washington - Tyee Yearbook (Seattle, WA)

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m THE WINGED YEARS Henry Landes. Dean of College of Science. rTjTlT SEEMS but yesterday, so kind have been the winged years, that the telegram came I 1 1 announcing that we were to go to the University of Washington. From our house on li ' bn ' ' small hill, overlooking a most beautiful rock-bound bay on the coast of Maine, we ' ' took one last look at the deep-blue waters of the Atlantic, and never tarried until we had crossed the continent to our new home on the Pacific border. It was on an afternoon in September, 1895, that our train arrived in Seattle, and we alighted on a broad street near the water-front. 1 he low buildmgs, the general lack of paving, the hilly streets, and the straggling nature of the city afforded to our eastern eyes some strange contrasts with Boston and New ork. First street, then called Front street, had a most dilapidated plank pavement, over which cable-cars careened in such a way that a passenger could imagine he was a child again and engaged in a game of see-saw. Second avenue was paved for a short distance with brick, and so was a section of Pike street. Third street was planked but it abounded in hills and hollows and in profile resembled some letter w ' s placed side by side. It was on Third street that the University ca r-line ran — one of the six independent lines of the city — without transfers. The running time from Yesler Way to the University was fort ' -five minutes, if the car remained on the track, which was unusual. I will never forget with what absorbing interest I made my first trip to the University over that line. After we had rattled along for an interminable time we got out of the city into the woods and it required much reassurance on the part of the conductor to make me believe that the University was yet ahead of us. I remember that I counted the abrupt turns on the way and there were twenty-two of them. There was an occasional turn-out on the track, which was hardly necessary because there were but three cars operating at one time. A rambling trail led from the car-line, through the woods and among the big stumps, to Denny Hall. This was then called the Administration building, and was not yet finished, although occupied by teachers and students. The obser ator ' was com- pleted and the instrument mounted. (An observatory had been built because the Presi- dent at that time was an astronomer. He could not be censured for preferring to look at the stars rather than at the terrestral things around about him). Peering through the straggling trees, in the distance, one could see the outlines of the gymnasium. When I first saw it I thought it was a train-shed and I expected to see a smoking engine run out of it. It was then regarded as a mere makeshift — to stand only until something better could be had. To my knowledge it has had a new roof, new walls, a new foundation and new floors — and is today the same temporar ' structure. In those early days there were very few houses north of Lake Union and faculty and students in their places of living were widely scattered. Some students lived in shacks on the University grounds and in the neighboring woods. A few members of the faculty were brave enough to live nearby, and followed the devious and winding paths which centered at the University. The President, returning home one night from some function, fell over a cow that had grown weary at night-fall and had made her do Tiy couch athwart the trail that lead to Prexy ' s house. The embarrassment was mutual. (This was not the astronomer previously mentioned. We swapped Presidents might) ' fast in those days). 18

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When I reported for duly a few days after the term had opened, I was assigned a small room as yet unfurnished. With the help of willing students we rustled a few boards for seats, a big box which I used for a desk, improvised a blackboard, and started on the rocky road to some knowledge of geology. Naturally 1 asked for an early intro- duction to the pay-roll, when I found that in seniority I was number eleven on the teaching staff. The faculty was so small that we held our meetings in a semi-circle around the President ' s desk. I was immediately impressed by the enthusiasm, the earnest- ness and the hopefulness of my colleagues. Those were the days of frequent changes. New teachers were rapidly added, and one by one the older ones withdrew. I desire to mention a few of the earlier instructors who are yet in service, and to give in a word a tribute of my appreciation of their inestimable value to the institution. In the order of the catalogue list the first is Professor Meany — eloquent, gifted, tireless, wholly unselfish, extremely helpful to student and colleague alike, and consumed by his burning zeal for Washington; Dean Smith — judicial, scholarly, a stimulator of vigorous thinking, coura- geous with no knowledge of fear, and a seeker after the everlasting better; Professor Ober — esteemed, enthusiastic, gracious, patient and kind, beloved by her students, and greatly respected by her colleagues; Dean Fuller — courteous and conscientious, capable, modest but vigorous, possessed of a fine professional spirit and filled with high ideals; Dean Condon — forceful, indefatigable, public spirited, insistent upon work of the highest quality, practically the founder and since its beginning the head of a law school of great value and influence; Professor Byers — intrepid, talented, a close student, foe of the slothful, exacting but warmly sympathetic, possessing a gruff exterior but all heart within ; Professor Kincaid — brilliant, tireless, inspiring, forever youthful, the lamp of genius always aglow, he has done more than anyone else to make Washington widely known. I ha ve mentioned only those instructors who were members of the Faculty within the first five years of my service and who are known to this generation of students. If space permitted it would be a joy for me to speak in a similar manner of my associates who have joined the staff in later years. The student makes a great mistake who does not break through the reserve of the class-room and become well acquainted with the real men and women who are to be found within the teaching exterior. You will find them companionable, inspiring, interested in you, and intensely human. They are placing their lives of service at your command, and the friendships you form with them should be among your most valued possessions for all future time. In the five generations of students that I have seen pass through the halls of the University it would be strange if I had not obser ved marked changes in them in a host of ways. The average student of today may possess limited means, but twenty years ago substantially every student was well-nigh penniless. Instances of students living in cheap quarters and cooking their own meals were common. Courses were elected where there were no laboratory fees and where the text-books were the least expensive. Books, cadet and gym suits and other things, used by students were generally passed along from person to person as long as they would hang together. It was a time when stern necessity compelled the simple life. It was a time when dress-suits, banquets, box parties, taxicabs and such things were words in a foreign and alien tongue. And yet the students were wide-awake and enthusiastic. They were eager to learn from their teachers of the ways and habits of students in other institutions. Many were the efforts to launch a tradition or a custom at once and under full-sail. One of the early classes decided to wear caps and gowns at graduation and this was continued for a few brief years. I recall that my