Wheaton College - Tower Yearbook (Wheaton, IL)

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- ' 941. v-:Q r-21 G34 F21 ffm rin 1-X4 r-84 r-Z4 ata 1-24 1-:Q f-:Q P35 and 1'-P4 'UAE ALYIAFKI ,iFW,F'Tf,iF-1,15-?f,i.iL , 1 7 , ,jsYf,1,:'5jL'TI.1? ff.1T'ff.1F'j4fj1TX f'f.1F'ff.XPJ' HOW TO GET I TO WHEATO Yes, I know you got in. Don't brag about it. You're not the first one who ever did it. But the chances are that you did it the hard way. Didn't you write for application forms, fill them out with words you thought were the ones the nebulous powers who sit on majestic thrones in the Admissions Office would like to hear, get a doctor to read your blood pressure twelve points higher, and then list twelve upstanding citizens you hoped felt like you did about yourself ?iDidn't you have in mind the time you tried out for the tennis team and broke your racket in the first game, or the big election in which your elev- enth grade class put you in as sergeant at arms when you filled out the blank, Other Interests: Sports, politics? I thought so. I too used to think one had to be vale- dictorian, all-conference end, and song leader at the home town Youth for Christ before the college would begin to consider one's additional' qualifications. But- and this just goes to show the value of a college educa- tion - after I came to Wheaton College and read the Broadcaster faithfully, I found out that to get into Wheaton you don't have to be a superman. All you have to do is beat a system. Briefly, stated, the system is this: where F a,q,,: , +I Q4 I Zz., EJIDDJQH P+ C ,ff h a.q. equals acceptance quotient y equals year of application equals year of intended graduation equals distance from school to your home fin kilometersj r equals rank in class c equals number in class f equals floor on which your intended major departments offices are located. If undecided, write 0. F equals number of friends or relatives who were or are in Wheaton. Do not count those who flunked out. q equals average of ratings on single personality questionnaire n equals number of questionnaires S d If your a.q. turns out irrational, they send you a let- ter beginning, We regret to inform you . . . Between 0 and 2.43 you are on the waiting list, with the comfort of being on the preferred list if you got above 1.80. Prom 2.43 to 2.47 is in with no questions asked. 2.47 to 3.0 they string you along for awhile, then subtract the number of impatient letters they get from you to arrive at the final answer. Only two applicants have ever got- ten above 3.0 and they both canceled out, so I don't know what the policy is on them. Ofncourse, this isn't the same formula as is used for married students, but in cooperation with the social committee of the Student Council KODON addresses itself to those who are not. Transfer students may substitute the North Central Association rating of the former college for P in the formula provided they come from a usual university. Perhaps by now somebody has told you of the case of Samuel Schmatz, an intelligent young lad from Phil- adelphia. Samuel graduated from his high school with highest honor. Somebody heard from a classmate of his that he already had memorized Homer's Odyssey, with the critical notes, and was working on the Iliad in his spare time - in the original Greek, of course. Sam- uel also played the piano beautifully and was rehears- ing for a midwestern debut in Kimball Hall when he heard of Wheaton. That's where I'll go, said he, af- ter I finish my first year on the concert stage. And so young Samuel went on tour - Kimball Hall, the Holly- wood Bowl, Carnegie Hall and all the important places in between. I But when he placed his application to Wheaton Col- lege, the secretary fed it into the Application Machine, watched the dial, and gasped. Six times the square root of minor course, but Samuel Schmatz was Samuel Schmatz. Dr. Nichols came running as she pushed the buzzer three times. Let me see his papers again. Back into the Application Machine they went, and again the answer was the same. Dr. Dyrnessf' The two men went into an inner office and the secretary went back to her desk somewhat shaken. A telephone call brought the entire physics depart- ment over with pliers and micrometers, and the ma- chine was checked thoroughly. All they found was a mouse in the baseboard, which had no effect on the ,Q 1,,,.v., ,ya ,JA ,J F-R 4, e v,, 1 r v 1, J, 5-'A ' Us UJA 4-'A A :JA an ff r-4 00 04 1' My-6gr-qiiff,156Arvf,1517.515-?f,FW,iF2f JN4f,iF-ifjrvfjii-ff,i?irpF?f,FifgF?f,1F?7,LP' JAN.

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CSN ,LQ 'Jag 'Ja fi 1 f-'A 9-'fi ,Ja 0- S ,ZA A34 'Ls 'L' ,iq ,Ja 'IQ 'Jn xz.x.s.f'gf'x-1fLf. .x.X'x,x'-f' X! X . N-f'X ',.x- 1 IIs--5 T'ff41T'5' ,PUR ,t?1pF'f,iY.f,1F1f.i.'QL . 1bsfl.17f.L'fV.15'fJ.1?'5.P1.l?1.1T'f!.N? ' eyes burning from continual scrutiny, and the whole body numbed by relentless strain. Many are the times that we came in like this, utterly exhausted. If you have ever seen the front stepsf' of the Floor, you will understand that to us it often seemed like the last mile, and even beyond. There were four flights of an outside iron staircase, which some condescendingly would have labeled a fire-escape. The stairs were old, and rat- tled. Though we had a lenient and understanding proc- tor that year, a hold-over from earlier times bade us walk up the center bar of the treads, which feat en- abled us to ascend without a sound. And then, once safely in the corridor, the door would bang shut, and some irritated sleeper would demand an explanation for the celebration. Our annual winter party was something to behold. It had no match on the campus. Though the boys of Barlett Hall may think me biased, I insist there was not a single woman on the campus who would not have foregone a dinner party at the Palmer House itself for an invitation to that affair - if only to get a glimpse inside our notorious Sanctum. We had famous personages who were Floorites. They are now numbered among our illustrious alumni. We had a record of which to be proud. I was about to say that such a record would go on and on, added to yearly, but in the pursuit of my memories I had well- nigh forgotten the glorious days of the Fourth Floor Dorm are ended. These memories are all the more precious now. All hope for recurrence is gone. A man who once lived on the Floor was always welcomed home, a bed was al- ways waiting. He could relive for a night his under- graduate days. But no more. Do not expect, I pray you, the naked truth when a Floorite tells you of his experi- ences there. With the telling and retelling, embellish- ments will be inevitable. Legends will grow up about the place, and fathers will tell them to their sons as they send them off to school. Now we can live again those days only in our innermost selves. Such reliving brings, of necessity, a certain mellowness to the heart. Progress, brutal as it is, must come. We saw it rip out the old literary halls for a modern lounge. We now see it in the bright fluorescents and shiny floors of the offices on Blanchard's fourth floor. Other landmarks will fall, and I suppose we shall shed a tear. But not for long, for we ourselves shall be gone someday and shall leave the shedding of tears to others. Homer Dowdy'-17 from Kodon, 1940 I'll bet the spreads you have in Williston now cant begin to match the ones we had! Do you ever cook chicken in the closet? VVhy, you couldnt even find an And some would make love in the booth by the hour. old-fashioned high lamp like the one we cooked with . . . It was very simple, though, or would have been if we hadn't had to do it all in the dark. We just balanced a broomstick on two chairs, hung the lamp on the broomstick, and roasted our chicken. You'd have to do it by flashlight now. Mary Scoggins Freeman '97 from Kodon, 1951 0-'F 0-'Q 0,4 4 0-'G 0-'A r-'A I-'A AIN r-'A 1-'A f-In r-In r'-Q :JA r'4 1'-9 1-'N X.Z.x.Z' 'XZ' 'N-..J'XZ'X..J'g!'xf , 'X 1' 'xvf'-,v,'xvf'x-1'xvJ'xw1'X-X Up-C f-'sys .15-4f,'tVf,t,V.1,LYf,r-if.i.'bf JNYff.iHf LF'-?f,t'1f,i?Tfp.Yfi,i.'.fp1fp1,iP' I .469

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.- Qgel, ' f-Z4 f!-Q A!-w 'ZH 'fd '-fa 1-Z4 r-7-s 4 'YG f-fi I-to rfw 1-'Q a-'Q 434 gl xg gy xuf,wx,.z gy XZ XZ' 1' X-1' xr---' N---fr X-'ff V? f X,,-7 'ff,t?'ff4t?'ff,U'1 ,tF1fQP1f,t?-'J.tFif,t,'1L . J 5 01,151 ,irrfp-in ,131 lt, a,t?-5,13-Tip' machine anyway. Let me try it, said Dr. Martin, and the papers went through for the third time. For the third time the answer came back - an irrational six. A passing freshman was called upon for Paul Revere service. Soon the whole west end faculty was collected in the inner office. Gentlemen, began Dr. Nichols. I-Ie cleared his throat apologetically. Ladies and gen- tlemen, he began again, you have seen the applica- tion papers. You have examined the Application Ma- chine. You have all heard of Samuel Schmatz. Can someone tell me what is the matter? A hush fell over the room. All eyes turned toward the far corner as one of the associate professors in theoretical mathematics stood up. He was a man of few words. Those present remem- bered with hope that he had originally proposed the a.q. formula and ground the gear teeth for the Appli- cation Machine. Small f equals four, he said some- what disgustedly, then picked up a stack of books and left the room. Dr. Nichols looked puzzled. Then he broke into a wide, relieved smile. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. The west end professors went back to their offices. A statement, confidential, of course, went the next day to all who were in that gathering. It explained that Samuel Schmatz, being an intelligent young lad, had decided to major, not in music, not in Creek, but in history. And everyone knows that the history offices are on the fourth floor. Everyone knows too how such a factor, when combined with Samuel Schmatzs other qualifications, would inevitably lead to an answer of six times the square root of minus one. But it was too late. The automatic typewriter which a former efficiency expert had attached to the Applica- tion Machine had already dutifully typed out Form 128-Ci-55, beginning, We regret to inform you . And Samuel Schmatz, being an intelligent young lad of many interests, had already turned to Penn State, where he is today about to receive his degree in physi- cal education. loe Crimes from Kodon, 1949 The College Bookstore before in- flation and the intrusion of the Art Department. These were the good old days when it was possi- ble to buy a good book for a dime and sell it second-hand to a fresh- man for a quarter. ...QW 1-'R 0-'Q o-'A rt! QJA 'A rs' :JA 0-'A Y Y V Y 1 7 f 7 f . .... F. 6 . . X 1-.I ri! r-.Q r-'S 94 0.4 9.4 1-.4 f-.A X.Z, x.Zv ' 92 Q! -,J ' gl gy x..1 , ki , ' gif ' -,Y-1 ' xv! xvl xv! X-1 x.X 'U .156 .t,'U.i?'ff,F'ff,L'ff,tF7J,1?-4f,iN-'.f,t1V fifty-ffaiiff .tV,f.r?1r3Wc.L '.fp-ffltf-ffl? VIR