On days like this when things get to be too much I can always console myself with the knowledge that at least I don’t need two telephones to keep things in order:
It’s not dated but looks to be quite early in his Rice tenure, circa early 1970s I’d say. I don’t know why he’d have two telephones.
Bonus: Seen on an office door.
The first thing I put my hand on when I got back on campus today was something I’d never seen before, an article recounting Dr. Lovett’s delivery of Rice’s request for a paved boulevard that would connect the Institute to the rest of the city:
This was really important. The lack of a paved road out to campus was a fairly major hindrance to the growth of the school and also of its ability to contribute to the larger Houston community. Here’s a shot of the dirt road Main Street just outside Gate 1, facing downtown, in 1912:
It looks relatively benign, I suppose, but you know what Houston weather is like. This is group of students trying to figure out how to get Norman Ricker’s car out of the Main Street mud in about 1914:
The project was approved and $100,000 of city money was allocated to build a boulevard 120 feet wide to the Institute and even well beyond. By June of 1916 one side was open as far as Rice’s main gate and many of the people who showed up for the first commencement came partly for the thrill of a smooth car ride out to campus.
If I correctly remember my Rice Business Manager records, there might be more to say about this. That 120 foot number rings a bell . . . so hang on.
Bonus: I got back from my ski trip in time to make sure I catch all of pollen season.
I’m still trying to get it together after vacation. If I owe you an email, it’s coming!
It’s very hard to imagine this happening now. The students are far more subtle in their menacing techniques these days:
I’ve written about both of the teachers who got pelted here before, Edgar Altenburg here and George Williams ’23 here. In spite of this rude treatment both spent their entire careers at Rice.
Bonus: This is my naughty grandson trying to knock over his sister’s snowman.
We have all taken off the week to go skiing. I’ll be back next Monday.
I’m not sure what it says about me but I think this looks like fun:
I got several emails last night and this morning from people who were agog over yesterday’s picture of Harris Bayou. So just for fun here are a few more. Some of them I’ve used in the long ago past but I’ve gotten quite a few new readers since then and there are a couple of new ones here too for you old timers.
The main reason that pictures got taken in this area was because it was occasionally full of water, sometimes to an alarming degree. This one, taken in April 1912, is the best example of Harris Bayou engorged. It’s impressive:
This is what happened when the rain stopped falling. The photographer was standing on the Main Street bridge looking up campus:
Here is one of our first pitiful attempts to control this force. The drains, incidentally, had been installed before the above photos were taken:
This next one was taken after an earlier flood in February 1911, which is what prompted the installation of the drains in the first place. It’s looking towards the northwest, also from the general area of Main Street. It looks kind of nice, I think, very serene:
I can’t resist one that doesn’t show the bayou but does make clear what a big problem it could be. This picture was taken all the way across campus, almost as far away from the gully as you could get and still be at Rice, from the northeast side of the Mech Lab construction site looking towards the main entrance. It’s from the same rain storm that produced the photo directly above. There was water pretty nearly the whole way in between:
And finally my favorite, a page from the 1917 Campanile with an image taken on a calmer day that shows the wild treasure that once lived here:
The Blue Danube was an ironic name, of course. Harris Bayou, although it could become a pretty significant body of water after a big rain, was never remotely a river. But what I hadn’t really considered before I ran across this in the Thresher was that by 1946 there was nothing blue or fresh about it. The cartoon was on the front page:
And this editorial was inside. It sounds, honestly, just ghastly and for once I’d have to say that the students actually had a legitimate complaint, but it wasn’t until 1949 that significant remedial action was taken:
Bonus: It didn’t always look so hot in 1913 either.
I love the days when I come in and there’s a package waiting for me, especially when I’m not expecting anything. Today it was a long skinny box, very intriguing. Inside were some papers that were so aggressively rolled up that I struggled to see what I had. Luckily there was also a note (sometimes there isn’t!):
I’m very grateful to Dan McCormack ’82 for sending these posters and I’d like to assure him that we do have a high-tech archival solution for flattening rolled up documents–big, flat, heavy pieces of glass:
Bonus: It’s art and it looks great.
When I saw this I immediately assumed the line was for concert tickets:
But it was a basketball game they were so excited about! Georgetown, with their great center Alonzo Mourning, was coming to play Rice just before Christmas break. The Owls had started the season well and the crowd was eager to see their first big challenge:
We lost 47-53 (!) but that must have been an extremely interesting game.
Bonus:
But can he be left alone to enjoy it? What do you think?
I’ve been in Omaha at meetings the last couple of days. This is roughly how I feel right now:
I’ll be back tomorrow after I get some sleep.
P.S. Love his shoes.
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