Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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sighted ship, sank same Civil Engineering Remember the morning we tried to sneak into a back seat only to be stopped with the familiar, “Good morning, mister; seats in the front sell for the same price as those in the back.” That’s Colonel Holt talking, and when he talked, we listened! How about the morning in November when we wondered about the meaning of the chalked phrase, “No problems due after June 9, 1954,” or the meaningful, “Looks like we have a few empty saddles today,” or, “Gentlemen, this class runs from 1:00 p.m. to 4:00 p.m. Would appreciate it if you would remember that.” All these and many more came from the stern “man in the saddle.” The Civil Department is, as well, blessed with the ob¬ ject of many of Bob Pritchard’s jokes. You know that means old “Kid Havana”, the man standing behind the five-cent stogie. The office on Boynton’s first floor could belong to anyone of the civil instructors, as it is loaded with blueprints, log tables, and financial reports; but that slow musty odor of the burnt hemp eliminates any doubt as to its occupant . . . A. J. Knight. “This course is basic if you just understand a few fundamental facts.” . . . leads one to wonder when about 65 of these fundamental facts conglomerate in a problem. Then there are his stories of the “Dark Ages” . . . comical stories coming from a man whose sense of humor is as big as his cigar. Now looking around from behind a sewer pipe is C. F. Meyer, the guy whose comments on returned exams will go down in history. The notations that “this answer is . . . the modern Sampson completely absurd,” or “this sounds like a hodge-podge to me,” or “I asked for a bullet you answered with buck¬ shot” come quickly and easily from the former Ty Cobb of Worcester Tech. It’s not too difficult now to recall the days of route surveying when the “little Caesar” was go¬ ing to separate the men from the boys. Those who gradu¬ ated hope he did. Vage Tiuenfy-six

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For no special reason, except perhaps that three of the editors of this year’s PEDDLER are chemical engineers, we have chosen to begin our cam})us tour in the Salisbury Laboratories. We’ll never forget the day, when as freshmen, we real¬ ized that Salisbury was the home of the Chemistry and Chemical Engineering departments. We had been told that it was one of the very first chemistry laboratories built in this country and now was used strictly as a mu¬ seum illustrating 19th century chemical techniques. The first thing that caught our attention was the floor which appeared to have been rather seriously affected by some earthquake w ' ay back when—but we found out later that those wrinkles were just a sign of old age. Of course we’ll always remember that elevator (which incidentally was the first of its kind built in the world) which never ceased to amaze us—and then there was the leaky toilet. . . . One of the first people with whom we came in contact was Dr. Ernest Wilson. “Doc ” came to Tech after a dis¬ tinguished career in the chemical engineering industry. The senior chemical engineers learned first hand from him the complexion of industry and got a valuable insight into exactly what was in store for us when we got out. Doc, along wit h his charming wife, attended every basketball game religiously. The team especially has a very warm spot in their hearts for the good doctor be¬ cause of the venison banquet he annually holds at the completion of his fall hunting trip. As Freshmen we got to know Prof. Harry Feldman probably best of all the faculty. Prof. Feldman seemed to understand better than anyone in the school, in those early weeks of school, that there is a big difference between college and high school. Dr. Maurice Smith, better known to two decades of stu¬ dents to whom he has taught qual and quant, as “TOMB¬ STONE” is one of those people about whom some gradu¬ ate will undoubtedly write a Reader’s Digest article about “The Most Unforgettable Character. . . .” Doc, along with carrying an active schedule of courses, is considered one of the foremost Industrial Analysis LTmpires in New England. Doc is a bug for neatness and proper lab tech¬ nique as can be clearly exemplified by his own private lab, better known among the students as the “Black Hole of Calcutta.” The chem engines and chemists met Dr. Bridgman in their sophomore year, and in Doc they found a warm, kind person, always eager to explain and straighten out some wayward chemists. During the easy year in the Chem engine department, the junior year, the fellows met Dr. Charles Stauffer, better known to those that know him as “Smiley” because it seems that his smile varied inversely as the average grade on the exams he gave. Usually he was in great spirits. And that term we met John “I’m your buddy” Petrie, and here had our first taste of actual technological problems and began thinking that maybe we had better transfer now to some liberal arts course before all the applications were gone. “And by simple mathematical juggling and inspection we arrive at the well known for¬ mula. . . .” The senior year Dr. Kranich and Bob Wagner hop on board the bandwagon and this is when the boys really learned what industry is like. As a matter of fact the chem engines used to get problems which had been stump¬ ing the design departments of the various local com¬ panies. After every exam we swore that the next couldn’t be any harder—but we were wrong. The graduate students Sarli, England, Salmen, and Sundstrum, are familiar to all. They’re the guys who copied reports last year, and that yell like heck this year if they even catch you using one for reference. Almost neglected but never to be forgotten are those laboratory assistants, Edwin and Hiram. The former seemed to be dropping things all the time, while the latter was continually thinking up some new form of laboratory demonstration design to keep those few freshmen nappers in the lecture awake. Looking back from our vantage point as seniors we find that even though it’s the toughest department on the hill it couldn’t have been better staffed. Not only are all the men imminently capable but what is probably more im¬ portant they are friendly, kind, thoughtful and under¬ standing and eager to make the students learn. But I’m your buddy! . . . Vaqe 7wenty-five

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Sitting, left to right: A. J. Knight, A. H. Holt, head of dept. Standing: C. F. Meyer, F, J. Sanger, C. H. Koontz. And who’s this staring from behind one of his three sets of spectacles? Looks like Fred Sanger, the man who is more British than the “Tower of London”. How often it happened that Fred would give the students writer’s cramp from two hours of lecturing only to summarize by saying, “This stuff is now outdated and practically worthless.” Remember the Geology trip when the “Brit¬ isher” toured the wrong side of Shrewsbury Street trying to test the compressive strength of his fender? The “Lon¬ don Limey” is another man of whom much will be said at class reunions. The newest member of the Civil Staff is the guy with the joke; the guy with the I-beam brain; the refugee from Ill inois, Carl Koontz. We’ll also recall the Geodesy sum¬ mer course when he tried his hardest to fudge a good closure; and those boards filled with figures on beam design were enough to demoralize the best of us. Midst all the kidding, these erudite gentlemen have been great. The thanks we can give them is the satisfac¬ tion of knowing that we are stepping out into industry well-fortified with the tools of our trade . . . our knowl¬ edge gained at Tech. four o’clock