Rice History Corner

One of the more popular exhibits at the early Engineering Shows was a metal fire-breathing dog named Woofus. The first iteration seems to have been produced for the 1928 show and this one was from 1932:

Woofus evolved a much fiercer look over time and we’ve always wondered what became of him, sort of hoping against hope that he’d turn up in a basement somewhere. Alas, this is not to be. I was looking at WWII era news clippings today and learned of his demise in the service of his country:

This clipping came from the Garcia family, about whom I’ve written before. Their father is one of the men standing on the pile of scrap metal.

Newsflash: Hold on to your hats. The Thresher now comes out on Wednesdays. Seriously.

While I was rifling through a folder of 1970s era materials this image instantly seized my attention:

I think it’s the leadership of a group called the Rice Fund Council. Left to right are Malcolm Lovett, Sr.(’21), Harry Chavanne (’33), Norman Hackerman, someone I don’t know and Ben Love, then president of Texas Commerce Bank. Gauging by Norman’s hair I put it no later than mid-70s and the presence of Ben Love make me wonder if this had something to do with the fundraising for the Jesse H. Jones School of Administration, which Love helped spearhead.

What really appeals to me, though, are the overhanging branches of an oak tree that once grew out in the quad.

I would guess that almost no one remembers this, but almost two years ago I wrote a post about some of the bookplates in use at Fondren. I’ve never forgotten this particular post though, because I wanted so badly to find out something about the man who inspired this lovely plate:

I looked all over for him and never could find anything at all, not even a trace.

Yesterday I was doing some research in the Andrew Forest Muir (’38, ’42) collection—I was way, way down in it too, in a box full of personal and family correspondence and photos, more obscure you could hardly get. There were a lot of photos and they were all labeled, but each was inside its own individual envelope. This makes them hard to get at, so I was perhaps less than scrupulous about opening every one. I did, though, notice the one labeled “Charles Hamilton” because even after all this time I’m still looking for Wiley A. Hamilton and well, you just never know. It can’t hurt to look.

So I opened it and found him:

Retired from Schlumberger and worked at Fondren for three years before he died at age 83. He must have loved it in the library very much. No wonder someone made bookplates in his memory. Comparing the drawing and the photo from the obituary, I see that must be him checking out a book in the bookplate. (Those are Muir’s typical meticulous annotations on the side of the clipping, by the way. I don’t believe he ever left anything unidentified or failed to cite a source. I’m very grateful to him.)

Bonus: Here’s another Fondren bookplate. I don’t know who she is, but it should be easier to figure this one out.

Well, they’re all back now and the 2013-14 school year started today. A lot of the beginning-of-the-year rituals are kind of the same as they’ve always been, but also kind of not the same. Registration, for example, is mostly an on-line thing these days. If you click on that link, you’ll note that it’s rather confusing. Confusion, however, may simply be inherent in registration–here’s a set of instruction from the late ’40s that is no less dizzying:

Also, you still have to go to the bookstore:

It look like the late 1950s to me.

Bonus:

I’ve had a very long, hard week. I believe I’ll head across the street and join these ladies.

Rambling idly through one of the “Oversized” boxes, the Final Home of All Things Awkwardly Shaped, I came upon this undated, unidentified photo. (It’s really big, by the way.)

I may not accomplish much today but I do feel pretty sure that I have readers who can fill this gap in our institutional knowledge. I’d like to know who everyone is, of course, but I’m also interested in where it was taken as well as the purpose of the little thing that looks like a bell over the head of the seated (and handsome!) fellow with the beard. I’m almost afraid to ask about the thermometer. Any help is greatly appreciated.

Bonus:

Circa 1970:

This afternoon:

One afternoon last week—Friday, I think but I’m not certain—I was heading home by my usual route, which takes me through the stadium parking lot and past the football practice field. I saw these fellows as I turned the corner, pulled over and jumped out to take their pictures. Going about their business, they either didn’t notice me at all or decided that the smart thing to do was to ignore the strange lady with the camera.

What this means is that real work is about to begin on the new tennis facility. I think this is great, certainly needed and likely to give a big boost to one of Rice’s most successful sports in recent years. Also it’s named after George R. Brown, easily one of the most important figures in the modern history of the institution.

Still, it will be strange to have the courts all the way on the other side of the parking lot. For almost all of Rice’s history the tennis courts (at first they were the Men’s Tennis Courts, while the women had their own right next to the Administration Building where they could be properly supervised ) have been in roughly the same vicinity, just along the south loop road. You can see them in this 1921 aerial as a big white rectangle:

And here again in 1969:

Some new courts were added on the other side of the gym when Jake Hess Tennis Center was built in 1970. Then the rest of them were relocated to the back side of the gym much more recently. When? I can’t remember but I saw it happen. This image is from 2000 and they’re still there but it looks like their days are numbered:

Bonus: Those courts got a pretty good workout. This photo was taken in 1916. It’s hard to get a close look but I think they were clay:

And this one’s from the late 70s or early ’80s, I believe, based only on the length of the shorts:

The freshmen, that is, with all they entail. I’m on record as not being a big fan of O-Week (and yes, I understand that this is a minority opinion) but there’s no denying that O-Week is much, much better than what came before. Here, for example, is a picture of the new freshmen, then called “slimes,” hitting campus in 1929:

I never would have made it.

Bonus: It sounds like matriculation went well. Here’s a nice shot of it (no chickens) sent in by Campus Photographer Jeff Fitlow:

Extra Bonus: What I Did On My Summer Vacation: I had a very productive summer at Rice. I also saw St. Ignatius of Loyola three times. I was amazed at his shape-shifting abilities. First at Gonzaga:

Then at Creighton:

And finally at Cristo Rey Jesuit High School:

This was his actual size.

So graceful, like gazelles.

I can’t possibly be the only person who looked at this and thought of Caddy Shack.

Bonus: Things weren’t so cushy back in the 20s.