Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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•Continuing a Tradition The names may change, but the message remains the same. O ne hundred and ten years ago, the very first “yearbook” publication was com¬ pleted by students of this school, then known as the Worcester Technical Institute. That book, called the Antenna, was really nothing more than a collection of anecdotes about the students and life at the school. The examples of these early yearbooks in the following pages still communicate the wit, excitement and hope of the people who have brought us this far. Looking back to the Anfen- na, (which, incidentally, became the After¬ math in 1891, L’Expose in 1892, the After- math again in 1910, and the Peddler in 1928) one can see a unifying thread which runs through all of these books. Their purpose is to reflect the character of the Institute and those who ran it and attended it. Essentially, it is like holding a mirror up to the school and preserving the reflection in print on paper. Thus, the premise is set and it may be fitting to quote a passage from the 1875 Antenna: “In the meantime, this pamphlet, the first of the kind by students of our Institution, we commit to the perusual of such as may see it . . . Hoping that it may be followed by similar productions, with great improvements, we now turn the leaf. ” fs T ?v

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EVERYTHING YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT CLASS RIVALRY circa 1875 A sobering look at why the rope-pull may be the last true vestige of such traditions . . . From the 1875 Antenna — What follows is intended to be an unprej¬ udiced account of an affair which resulted most disastrously to the class, and the partici¬ pation in which they have undoubtably re¬ pented of, with many tears. The lecture over, they (the class of 75) passed down the stairs and were met by 76 as they entered the street. Immediately they formed in a hollow square and settled down into a now-come-on-if-you-dare kind of an air. Nothing in the way of attack being offered, they took up a line of march for Main street. They marched in good order for some dis¬ tance, when . . . smash went a hat over the ears of one of the benighted 75s. This was the opening gun for a scene most lively. Hats were falling, canes flying, police looking com¬ placently on, small town boys shouting and seeming to enjoy the proceedings immensely. 75 still worked hard, but it was useless, — nay, worse than useless, and soon were the unmistakable signs of distress; calls of “ 75 this way,” “Give it to them,” “Stand off!” etc., were heard, but ... it was useless, and soon was begun a retreat. 76 then magnanimously desisted from any further attacks, but the “townies,” who had been looking on all the while, began to crowd around them and were verv ' unceremonious in their ways of dealing with mankind as embodied in the class of 75, W.T.I. They started again on a retreat, this time going towards Pearl street, evidently hoping that the crow ' d w ould not follow ' , but the crow ' d did follow and uncomfortably close, so they counter-marched through Pearl street. Thence dowm Main street tow ards Lin¬ coln Square, with the crowed still at their heels. Finally, by bad generalship or some blunder they became separated and then each did his best tow ards taking a bee-line for home. They might have been seen in all direc¬ tions “streaking” it as for dear life, and it is said that one of the number reached home, hat¬ less, caneless, breathless and pale, sank into a chair, gasping, and altogether an object quite frightful to behold. “You must learn something about everything in order to learn everything about something” — Emor Washburn Top of page: Title page from the 1875 Antenna. Below: The eastern face of Bo ' nton Hall. 6 Cp r.’T.t