Rice History Corner

I ran across these two images on a single piece of photo paper in a box of Elizabeth Baldwin Literary Society things. They were pretty clearly taken on the same night, as I think I recognize some of the dresses in both shots. They’re lovely and nearly unimaginable on campus today:

Note that rascal Dr. Joseph I. Davies in the top image, chaperoning yet another dance.

Unfortunately, the date on the back is smudged enough that I can’t be sure what it says. My best guess is 1961. Anyone have thoughts?

Bonus: Thanks to loyal reader Marty Merritt for this haunting image of the old Bostonian lamps being removed from the sidewalks near the Shepherd School. They look decapitated.

I think they had to go because they interfered with the Turrell light shows. Remember this?

And this?

I believe this is the ill fated Bo Hagan, who succeeded Jess Neely as Rice’s head football coach in 1967, circling a possible recruit.

They’re labeled only “Beaumont.” It looks a bit . . . awkward.

Bonus: I like the way this looks. I did not climb up there although I wanted to.(I might yet.)

One of my colleagues recently came to me with a true treasure, several bound editions of a late 1970s-early 1980s periodical called The Staff Speaks. This seems to have been a precursor to News from Fondren but with one very important difference: it was clearly intended for internal circulation only. I can say with complete confidence that I have never laughed harder or longer at anything I’ve seen in the Woodson. A lot of it is “inside library” humor of a very high quality, some of which I’ll share with you later. Some of it, though, will make immediate sense to anyone who has spent any time in academia:

This one makes me laugh every time I look at it.

Bonus: A couple of days ago I was walking across campus when I spotted this:

I had to sprint to catch them–and it’s a good thing I was wearing flats because I don’t think I could have caught up in heels. It’s great to see horses on campus.

One of the best things in those issues of the RI Magazine that I was talking about yesterday is a series of articles about each of the departments on campus. I’m sure you won’t be surprised if I start with the library, my home at Rice since I first arrived 25 years ago. This piece captures a precise moment–the summer they began moving books into the new Fondren–and gives us a nice glimpse into what the librarians thought they were doing:

I protest the idea that there’s something wrong with being a bookworm’s dream world, though. That’s exactly what I like about it.

Also, I believe the word they’re looking for is “carrel.”

Bonus: Here’s what moving all those books looked like.

Floyd Lear and Katherine Fischer Drew on the occasion of Dr. Lear’s retirement, 1975

Another day, another small miracle.

I walked in today and found that a kind donor had brought us a box of letters. I’m sure you all recall the saga of the Floyd Lear correspondence from last spring, which began with a carton of papers next to a dumpster in a California senior living complex and ended with our visit with Queenie.

Almost unbelievably, this new box of papers turned out to be a second cache of Floyd Lear’s correspondence. This batch has a more coherent history. They are all letters from Katherine Fischer (later Drew) to Dr. and Mrs. Lear, the bulk of them written from 1948 to 1950 while she was at Cornell studying for her doctorate. They passed from the Lears to Mrs. Drew, and from her to one of her graduate students, Joan Ferry, who worked in the Woodson for many years. Joan and her husband brought them to us.

These letters are a delight, witty and intelligent, as well as a treasury of bits and pieces of Rice history that would otherwise vanish. I’m not finished with them yet but my favorite so far is this snippet from a letter written on April 17, 1949, wherein Fischer is thanking Lear for sending her a supply of recent Threshers and Rice Institute magazines:

You know, I wasn’t familiar with the RI Magazine but if anything would make me get up and look for it, this was it. (I couldn’t find it by myself, incidentally. Many thanks to my colleague Amanda Focke for her help.) Here’s the article in question, which frankly left me flabbergasted too:

Bonus: RI Magazine existed for about six years during the late 1940s and early 1950s. I had never seen it before. It’s good!

We have family in town to meet the new baby and just for fun some of us went out and played golf this afternoon. I’m pretty stalwart but it was so hot that I threw in the towel after 14. Cruising along in the cart for those last few holes I kept thinking about a couple of pictures from the Campbell collection. Something about seeing athletes smothered in blankets just resonated today:

Note that it seems to be a little chilly in the image of the relay men above. Not so in the next one:

I have in my house a surprising amount of secondary material about the history of athletic training but I haven’t been able to discover the theory behind this practice. I’ve seen marathon runners covered in those shiny blankets after their races but these are clearly much shorter races in these photos. Any explanation is welcome.

Bonus: Some students built a tree house between Ryon and Mech Lab this spring but today was the first time I had a chance to climb up there. It’s very solidly constructed and there’s a small door for safety.

I was somewhat surprised to see that a quotation from President Leebron is prominently displayed:

That’s the caption on the back of this undated image. I love its immediacy but I think the very best thing about it is the intrusion of those two striped trouser legs.

Snazzy.

Bonus: I’ll be off for the 4th. See you Tuesday! I’ll probably still be wet.

Construction started sixty-nine years ago. This building has seen some very hard use. It might be nearing time to put it out of its misery.

July 1, 1947:

July 1, 1948:

And here’s one that’s interesting for another reason: I’m not surprised to see construction scaffolding over at Anderson Hall, which wasn’t quite finished yet. But what’s that over the corner of Physics? It must be across the street. Also, if you zoom in you can see the shed behind Physics peeking out through the oaks.

A couple of odds and ends as I try to get back to normal:

Go check out this week’s KTRU Tuesday at the What’s in the Woodson blog. It features art professor David Parsons and the world’s tallest woman. Really.

I got an interesting email the other day from a Rice student who tried his hand at a redesign of the Rice shield. Here’s a link to his post–check it out and give him your thoughts if you’re so inclined. For my part, I like it. I think it manages to be both fresh and faithful to tradition, which is quite a trick.

And finally, a request from a very nice woman came in over the transom:

My name is Ayelet and I’m working on a new series for Audible, the world’s largest producer of downloadable audio content. I hope this finds you well!

I’m contacting you as we’re currently producing a series regarding the greatest speeches of our time and are looking to get in touch with someone who was present at the 1962 “We Choose To Go To The Moon” speech, delivered by J.F Kennedy at Rice Stadium.

It will be great to hear about the atmosphere in the stadium, the emotions it evoked and about life in the 60’s from one of the students/staff members who were there. I was wondering if you happen to know of anyone who was there and might be keen to tell their story or perhaps might be able to help me to get in touch with someone who was there? It will be great as some of them might like to share their memories of the day.

If anyone out there fits the bill and would like to speak with her, she’s at ayelet.rosen@itn.co.uk

I was saddened to learn yesterday of the death of David Hellums. As an engineering professor, as dean, and as a citizen of the university David served Rice well and for many years. He arrived here in 1960 as an assistant professor and became a pioneer in Rice’s turn to bioengineering, working closely with Michael DeBakey on early attempts to develop an artificial heart. (Click here for the Rice News biography, a record of a remarkable career.)

Although he was a Texas grad Hellums always seemed to me a quintessential Rice guy. He came from a small town north of Abilene, not quite in the panhandle but close, and boy, could you ever tell. He had that deep intelligence and curiosity coupled with a complete lack of pretension that I have found characterizes so many of our faculty and students from this era. He was, that is, not just a good engineer but also a good guy. He was the kind of guy that when a king came to campus, you put him in charge of the visit:

David Hellums, rest in peace.

We’re having a bit of a roller coaster this month. My daughter had a baby yesterday, her third, our first grandson. He surprised us all by arriving early but everyone is doing well. I’m on duty at home today with his big sisters–it’s 8:30 in the morning and I’m already exhausted.

Steven Alan, 8 pounds 5 ounces

When I first walked in to meet him this view was in front of me:

Such a strange sensation. I thought immediately of beginnings, as I suppose is natural: