Rice History Corner

I don’t really have much to say about this. I scanned it a few years ago because I’d never seen anything like it and I think it’s pretty:

It came into the Woodson in a wonderful batch of pictures taken by Bob Roosth ’70, ’71, who was a photographer for both the Thresher and the Campanile. Most of them are just on contact sheets but my recollection is that this was actually a print.

Bonus: This is one of the little contact sheet images. I have no idea what it’s all about but I could use some psychiatric help myself these days.

This little tidbit in the back of the September 18, 1987 Thresher caught my attention a while back:

And here’s a picture of him playing all those people in the RMC:

But the Thresher never really followed up and I had to go the the Houston Post archives (September 21, 1987) to get the real story. First, the lecture sounds fascinating. What an unusual character Spassky is, so unlike anything in the academic world. And of course I’m a big fan of psychological ploys. But the account of the 50 player challenge is also unexpectedly intriguing. I love Janet Gibson, who not only shows up as the lone woman in the game but also surprisingly compares chess to football. We never find out exactly what happened, as I suspect that once the reporter had enough for a story she simply took off before it was all over:

I’d love to know what he thought about all this.

Bonus: April 8, 2020. March 6, 2020.

I just had an astoundingly busy day. (How can it be, you might wonder, that I’m so swamped during a shut down. The answer in three words: increased domestic obligations. For which I have no talent, leaving me with nothing but determination.) So I am doubly grateful to Annette Bruer Tarver ’86 for today’s pictures. She’s a long time campus walker and has sent me images of strange goings-on before. This time it’s the odd sight of the front gates completely closed. Note we get the view from both sides:

This is a new one for sure. In the past the gates were shut for only two things–the annual one-day closure to make sure our private streets stay private and the unauthorized student-enforced closures following some especially exciting athletic victory. I’ve written about the annual closing before here–be sure to check out the comments to get the real story. And just the other day I was looking through the David Davidson ’57 ’58 slide collection and noticed some pictures of the lockout after we beat Texas 18-13 on October 24, 1953. That was quite a season–the Owls went 9 and 2 and finished ranked 6th in the nation.  The Rice undergrads did a beautifully thorough job of closing the entire campus, not just he front gates. I’d be comfortable putting them in charge of the corona virus shut down:

With a suspiciously enthusiastic Dr. Charles Garside of the History Department standing way too close:

As usual I won’t be posting on either Good Friday. Happy Easter to all my friends who celebrate on the Western calendar and once again we’re a week later:

I know none of us will be doing things the way we usually do but if we’ve learned anything at all from How the Grinch Stole Christmas its that no matter what we do it comes anyway.

Bonus: I’ll leave you with a bit of optimism. Back in August I wrote a post with bonus pictures of new grass planted in the shady strip between Rayzor and Sewall–go here for a look. When I was on campus the other day I was astonished to see that the rye grass that they overplanted for the winter had died off in the heat but this zoysia underneath was still alive! I’m not going to claim that it’s lush or anything like that but it is most definitely not dead and it actually looks pretty good as long as you don’t look straight down at it. I’m taking this as a really good sign!

This emerged a while ago from the old Rice Institute Library papers. The restrictions on after hours access to the library in Lovett Hall are certainly eye-catching but I don’t think they’re especially surprising. On the other hand I was just a little surprised to see Augie Erfurth ’49 on the list of after hours users:

Augie was a San Antonio native and a four year track letterman at Rice.  After eleven years as a coach at Brackenridge High School in his home town he came back to Rice and spent 26 years serving with great honor first as track coach, then assistant AD, and finally as Rice’s Athletic Director. Here’s what he looked like when he was working late in the library:

Bonus: Of all the things I saw on the empty campus yesterday this was the emptiest.

The Woodson is just on the other side of this window. I tried to peek in but the blinds were closed.

Sigh.

I left my neighborhood for a little while today and went over to campus to see what was what. I’m really glad I did because in thirty years at Rice I’ve never really seen anything like it. It always quiets down over breaks of course, but this was something else entirely. I spent about an hour and a half walking around the colleges and the central part of campus and I don’t think I saw more than a dozen people, almost all of them either FE&P employees or Campus Police. There were a couple of dog walkers, a family on bicycles, and I could see that there was a little bit of activity in some of the lab buildings. It was so desolate that I nearly had the wits scared out of me when a couple of college magisters turned a corner and surprised me.

It was particularly bleak around the colleges, with frightening signs posted all around and evidences of hasty departures:

Hand sanitizer. I used it even though I didn’t touch anything. It’s good luck!

For some reason all the outdoor chairs are piled in groups and tied up. It looks striking:

Totally empty Cohen House lot:

More to come.

Bonus: Sad!

I spent part of this afternoon looking though some old scans and when I saw this one I realized we haven’t had a good aerial in quite a while. I think this one is especially nice, clear and taken from an angle we don’t often see, with most of campus visible:

When I first saw this one I was misled by the vast emptiness of the concrete surrounding the stadium. I assumed the date must be close to 1950 but with only a moments thought it’s obvious that that’s wrong. Rayzor Hall seems to be there and Ryon Lab is not (but might it be under construction?), which would make this somewhere between 1962 and 1965. The other thing that had me confused was the mess in the fields east of the stadium. I initially thought that must have been debris from the stadium construction but that clearly can’t be right 15 years after it was finished. So what is it?

Bonus: I took these the first week of March at one of the least photographed spots on campus. The only other picture of it I’ve seen was taken from a different angle here, showing very different landscaping in 1942.

But please, no more touching.

And six feet.

I’m guessing late ’70s but I bet one of you will know.

One of the minor silver linings of this coronavirus mess is that Willy’s Pub was spared the ignominy of an enforced shutdown for the rest of the semester. Here it is in happier times, all decorated for its 25th anniversary party in 2000:

They even had a cake:

I think it was an even happier day when it opened in April, 1975 and things were certainly easier before the drinking age became 21:

Bonus: I found this in Hackerman’s top desk drawer after he died. It may well be the most legible piece of his writing I’ve ever seen.

A Houston Press April Fools gag:

Shockingly, people bought it!

Bonus: I went Social Distancing again this afternoon.