Wheaton College - Tower Yearbook (Wheaton, IL)

Page 29 text:

. ,fL5:'Q..- M ' F f. , 5 V ' ' Y fa f 1, w . K, 'Rf-5. gg X V X - 11 . 1 K. K x Rini,-' N',TR Ki, ' , 'HX F, 1 1 -.., J ., LQ X, ,N X X-A Y, xx:---4, ATN-f h v 4 N S- Y ? f X Q--,,,-' X V V ' fi' L w ,r 'M' 1 :- - f-ff' . Q xr. L 'xx -1 X XX' 1 'W '-if , X' 5 ff 1 f- '- ' ' O ff ' ' 1 ! .- Q N 19-gn if X U Cfhjqn gxlgg yyfv ,J A-I ,NJ gf, '-faxxj ,Q ww , N, , . J, v V ! ay h 7-1 6 N 4 -4- -,N--,QL ix? ,- fx U lid I, Jw I tNc,5,f ,gfy wx J 0 of fy-wff, , Q Q J57., f ..,f vxy 4 fff 13 x fb IA-P w 1, J. ' Q Ng-iff '1E ' A ffl!! we Q , 1 7' I ,iv ',.,, , ju-J' .L M 4.3 X , be 'wr-J Aj , . U K XX 'RQX 1071, Xu Lxgjd ,, - 1 .-A b K-, , ,N .,., X 7, , Jr, V K . L-, 1. U ,RH J, if V: ,V NR, 4 ,,V, ., A 4 CMI! QM 'fff ,figf W if-42 K' , 2 , ' f J ,, ' C 1'-' ,J U, , 5 f W .-Lf! ,, ,:,,,,' X '- ' ff , v ff W - -Lff 'N V 1 N' 1 , ' Y WL! 1,1 ' - ,-ff,Lx..N-1 'I ,J E2

Page 28 text:

ff' MN '21 FYQ Al' 'YA' 'fd 'ta 141 v-7-s rl' f-ff! fri 4-'as f-'fs 1-'Q a-'N 4-94 1.-.1 V vc V'rf if ri-M' V'V'v'Vi'V'V .flt .1 ,L JAL .1 ,M ,P-11.1. .fp-ff,t, jL , , ,jg .J,tY,t,'7f,t?-ff,1?'ff,m, J41?ff.t?'ff.tF' MR. PRESIDE T Presidents have added a great deal to campus tradi- tions, in fact, it is traditional to have a president! Wheaton has had four. Ionathan Blanchard arrived in 1859 and retired in favor of his son Charles in 1882, who reigned as Charles l until his death in 1925. Relationships between king and subjects were no more strained in those days than in these, tales of mis- chief by lively students are plentiful. One especially dark night a group of prankish young men stole into the elder Blanchard's barn and removed his carriage, taking it to a distant spot. joking over the contempla- tion of his predicament on the morrow, they had al- most departed when a deep voice from within the con- fines of the buggy startled them: Gentlemen, would you be so kind as to pull me back to where you brought me from? And somebody got taken for a buggy ride! The tenor of Charles' forty year reign was in no small measure due to a character which differed mark- edly from the somewhat austere mein of his predeces- sor. When father introduced son to the college family he said, You will find him a much sweeter man than I am. He does not take after me . . . He was undoubt- edly an unusual man - for example, he remembered people by geography rather then by name. He was popular as a speaker, and on one occasion was slated to speak at Moody Church. At the last minute he found that his train had changed its schedule. Realizing that a large audience would be waiting for him, he set out to find other means of transportation. Prom the stationmaster at Wheaton he found that nothing in the way of freight or passenger trains could possibly help. Snatching at the hope that he might be able to catch a fast freight from West Chicago, he boarded a train and stopped to inquire there. They were sorry! Then as a last resort he asked, What will you charge for an engine to take me into the city. The station agent replied that he could not ride on an engine unless a car were attached, which service would cost 5550. The president of a struggling Wheaton was not rich, and S50 seemed a prodigious sum - but the appointment must be kept. He was soon riding his one-man train into Chicago. And when he later visited the offices of the Northwestern Railway to settle ac- counts, he was told that there would be no charge! Following the Blanchards, Dr. James Oliver Buswell, Jr., ruled wisely and well for fifteen years. It was dur- ring his jurisdiction that the faculty decided to copy the senior habit of sneaking lofficiallyj, and retreated for pre-autumn discussion and fun in 1937, spending a rainy day at Lake Geneva. Since than the retreat has been broadened to include three days, and has become an annual fall event, but since 1940 Dr. V. Raymond Edman has been the beloved presidential leader of the affair. from Tradiquette, 1950 President V. Raymond Edman and friends v ,v, 1, 1, o ,v,, ,v ,v,, ,J X v ,r,. r v., 1 1. 1 ,v.,,, 9- 0 Us f 00 Q A V ,A an ff 04 0 r-4 'A alt .tt -1.11 .ut lv ftt, .f,t, ali .gt LQ!! N-fflir-fra. Ja, Ja, .fa J.L .QL JBL 141, JON

Page 30 text:

- ' 041. f-74 r-'Q IL' FIG f-'A r'4 v-'Q 1-'fs W gi ! 4 I-I-s 4-'Q 1-'fs 1-'Q 0-'Q JJ4 x,1'x+J'xv1'u.f'x-Y,'X-1' 'X,,'dZ AZ gz'N...--'x.f'x.z'XZ'x.f X-f'x,1 '-v,tr-sf,iYf,w,ir-ff,ir-:f,t.Yf.f,iw-:f,t-7 L . , J r1f,m,i,-:f,tv-:f,v-.1,ir4f,i:-:f,i:-ff,v-' THE DEMISE GF BLANCHARD HALL The news came to me one morning many months ago now, as I opened the mail at my desk. It was there, spread in big letters, heading the last two columns on the front page of the Record. The letters swam in a black pool before my eyes, and I was forced to hold it away and read again, slowly and deliberately. And then it sank in, imperceptibly at first, but then suddenly, as a dagger in my breast. The old dormitory had been slain. It was to be dismembered, as in a post-mortem examination, and laid to rest among the fondest memo- ries of its loved ones. I immediately likened the closing of the Fourth Floor of Blanchard Hall as a dormitory for men to the pass- ing of an intimate friend, one with whom I had spent many unforgettable hours. It was not as though I had been at the bedside watching this one slowly shed his earthly mantleg I was far removed from the scene, in a strange land, and I was gripped by the knowledge that upon my return this one would have been gone long, and his memory held by but a few. After sustaining the initial shock that morning, I made another comparison, even more regrettable than the first, for I could not then rid myself of the illu- sion. The remodeling of the dormitory into a suite of busy offices seemed similar to waking in the morning in the usual manner and going down to breakfast to find a host of strangers awaiting your arrival. True, it is the same house fthe campus is little changedj, but these strange faces throw you into excruciating bewil- derment. Your first impulse is to run from the house in terror. I fully expected that when I were to see the new arrangement in Blanchard Hall, I, too, should ask some understanding person to lead me away, for I pictured myself in a great state of perplexity. I hope someone, sometime, will record the history of that old place. I am capable of setting down only a bit of the trivia that has come to me in recent years, either by experience or by word of mouth. I believe Miss Julia Blanchard - if she were spared the years to write down all the things that have transpired during her lifetime - I believe she could write the opening chapters with a profound truth and with a light heart. It was from her that I learned as a Freshman reporter that the dormito- ry which was long known as the habitat of the mascu- line got its beginning as a rooming house for young ladies. They slept there, made their morning toilets in the tiny boudoirs, and trouped downstairs to breakfast in their long dresses. But the young ladies were moved from this domicile to the newly-built Williston Hall around the turn of the century. The men took over shortly thereafter, and though I was unable to carry on research at the time the news reached me, I was certain that the Fourth Floor contin- ued to hold the spotlight in campus activity down to the modern age. This age, the Glorious Age, began when I moved to The-Floor Kas all Floorites used to sayj at the beginning of my junior year. We alighted from the train that Sep- tember just as full of hope and expectations as were our bags and suitcases full of socks, shirts, and hand- kerchiefs. Though our personal clothing may have been borrowed, re-borrowed, and sometimes lost, our enthusiasm never disappeared. We had a good crowd that year: campus leaders all, or at least excellent followers. Floor men directed activ- ities of the newspaper, the yearbook, the Student Council, and had a hand in everything, small or large, important or mere routine. I guess that is why the tele- phone in the hall rang so much. It would jingle in the daytime, scarcely audible above the confusion that abounded. It would ring at three in the morning, like the gong of the volunteer fire department downtown. People called all the time. Girls called to confirm dates or break them. Publishers and printers called to get a weary editor out of bed to correct a proof sheet. Chica- go, Dallas, St. Louis were often on the wire. A haloo would ring out for one to take his call. And some would make love in the booth by the hour. A We studied. We were proud of our scholars. And unless it was extraordinary, no disturbance in the cor- ridor brought the dutiful student bounding to his door. However, come ten o'clock, or it might be an hour either way, a congregation soon gathered in our little parlor. There we discussed topics of the day, read the daily papers, or exchanged extemporaneous cri- tiques on that evening's concert or 'athletic fray. One night in the week was sure to find the little hall room crowded out. That was our night for prayer meeting. A bit of Scripture, a song, a personal word or two, and a genuine pouring out of the soul to God. Those who have worked on college publications know how it is to stumble home in the early hours, J. -2- -Te 'T' -M JA A.. xv- ,vs -2- fi' cf- 'K' rf' 'fa ff' 41, W-5315? f'4,iT'ff,tVf,iVf,LVJ,1F'4f,vF-if,tV Nr-?f.iF-6151?-?f,U7.f,1F?fpFff,LW.r,iF1f.F7,ir' VAR