When it was absolutely certain that a V-12 unit would be assigned to the University, the library chime rang out with "Anchors Aweigh" and "Praise God from Whom All Blessings Flow." Unwittingly the music reflected the dual meaning of the V-12: to furnish preliminary training for potential officers--the official aim--and to assure the survival of men's colleges for the duration of the war. Banner headlines in the New York Times on July 1, 1943--the day the V-12 arrived on the campus--read: "M'Arthur Starts Allied Offensive in Pacific; New Guinea Isles Won; Landings in Solomons. Sicily Hit at Both Ends. Heavy Allied Bombing of Germany. Russians Repulse Nazi Attacks at Leningrad, Smolensk, and Kursk. $76 Billions Spent in U.S. Fiscal Year. Public Debt $140 Billions." "The Pacific Stalemate Ends," announced the Times editorial leader reassuringly. Representatives of Rochester service agencies greeted the out-of-city V-12 trainees at the railway station and whisked them off to the Gymnasium or Dewey Hall, whose first floor had been converted into Navy headquarters, occupied by Lieut. Commander Neill and a staff of about thirty, a medical officer, a Wave paymaster, and a director of physical training among them. (A collection of books on naval affairs was placed in Dewey.) Beds mostly in double-decker bunks were assigned to the men in the dormitories, the commandeered fraternity homes, and the Gymnasium; Navy instructions to quarter three men in most of the rooms in the residence halls were scaled down to two when it was pointed out that otherwise there would not be space for study tables. Numbers were assigned to the erstwhile fraternity houses, D.K.E. being "1" and proceeding counter clockwise around the quadrangle to Delta Upsilon "7;" the sacred, mysterious "Tab" of Deke was converted into a brig for men under serious punishment. Whereas Theta Chi housed twenty-eight men, seventy-two lived in Theta Delta Chi; fraternity furniture not required by the V-12 was stored in lounge rooms and kitchens. The tardy arrival of equipment for sleeping purposes caused nightmares. Bunks, mattresses, and pillows, supplied by the Navy, reached Rochester in freight cars only the evening before the descent of the trainees; next morning, the entire University maintenance staff, working feverishly, installed the furnishings in the rooms, and in the afternoon unheralded trucks pulled in with blankets which were issued to the men on the spot. The Navy also provided wardrobes or double-sized lockers, eating utensils, mess trays, and additional equipment for the kitchen of Todd Union, where meals were eaten. Instead of apprentice seamen exclusively, as had originally been expected, about 370 marine privates, along with sailors, checked in. Statistics on the actual complement vary from "just under 800" to 803, a majority of the men coming from New York State, but twenty-three other states were represented. Approximately a fifth came directly from secondary schools and nearly all the others hailed from fifty-two institutions of higher learning, diverse in character and quality; the largest groups had studied at Fordham and Syracuse Universities and over forty were U. of R. undergraduates. All in all, the first contingent of trainees on the "Good Ship Rochester" anchored beside the Genesee, and organized in five sailor companies and three of marines, exceeded the peacetime residents by nearly three times. Floors of buildings became decks, stairways companionways, and men on liberty "went ashore." They marched in orderly ranks to "chow;" "flunking" became "bilging" in naval slang and the victims were ordered to boot camp. A section of the gymnasium was blocked out as a "sick bay" or dispensary, and arrangements were made to care for cases of serious illness at the Strong Memorial Hospital. At least once during the V-12 era, navy dentists, practicing in a spacious trailer truck, visited the campus to look after the teeth of the V-12 men. II Upon registering, each man was handed "A Welcome to Rochester," a brochure containing pictures of the campus, its buildings, University personalities, a historical sketch and map of the city, a list of entertainment and church opportunities, a benign "Father Rochester" beaming joy over the newcomers, and a glossary of navy terms. "We are delighted to have you with us," President Valentine wrote, "We plan to do all we can to make your work and your spare time...as successful and pleasant as possible...We welcome you as full-fledged students and potential alumni...We want you to take with you warm memories of campus life, lasting friendships, and esteem for your teachers and your University. The Commanding Officer assured the men that "the University provides splendid physical facilities, ideally suited to your needs. Even more important, the University's academic standard is one of the highest and its faculty ranks with the best...Give your best effort in order that this unit may be one of the most outstanding in the country." And a third writer anticipated that the V-12 would "create for some future scribe...one of the best and noblest chapters" of the University's history. Deeply impressed by the publication, Washington naval authorities requested copies for distribution to other V-12 colleges. Feeding the men confronted the administration with perplexing and endless problems. It was not always possible to obtain the foods wanted or in the desired quantities, kitchen help was in short supply, and even after some remodeling of Todd, eating areas were badly overcrowded. Shortly after arriving, the trainees were vaccinated, took psychological and physical examinations, and signed up for courses, which, in view of the wide diversity in previous educational experience, presented enormous scheduling complications. Instruction got underway on July 5; about 220 male civilians likewise enrolled for study. Inescapably, the advent of the V-12 was a hectic, if epic, experience, which Dean Hoffmeister likened to "the eruption of a volcano, " but in a few weeks the President was able to say that the corps had "shaken down with a minimum of disturbance" in contrast to the situation at many other colleges where preparations for V-12 units had been inadequate. Quite appropriately, Valentine bestowed warm praise upon Lieut. Commander Neill (he was promoted to the rank of Commander during his Rochester stay) for his share in getting the V-12 launched and moving. A product of two proud schools, Virginia Military Institute and the U.S. Naval Academy, Neill had resigned his naval commission and gone into business. After Pearl Harbor he returned to active duty, and following a short stint of teaching at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute he was posted to Rochester as V - 12 commanding officer, staying on until the war was over. Not only University administrators, but the faculty, and the staff and men of the V-12 group respected and liked Neill, and the University counted itself singularly lucky to have so competent and genial a person in command; as a disciplinarian he was firm but considerate of human frailties. V-12ers tagged him "the Admiral of Dewey," or, less elegantly, the "Skipper." In a faculty tribute Neill was saluted as an individual of "character and decision," familiar with the nature and aims of collegiate education. Intensely interested in sports, he was not above reproaching referees for faulty decisions in language that all present could hear and interpret. An experienced Rochester reporter and shrewd judge of men, Henry W. Clune, sized up Neill as "a man whose sympathies for youth are keen and whose understanding of them is broad and deep. He has...a sense of humor; he is affable, kindly, and courteous; and very much of a human being, for all the gold braid on his cap." Lt. Clinton C. ("Snuffy") Nichols, a key figure on the V-12 staff, in civilian life a Maine schoolmaster, functioned as executive officer responsible for educational affairs until transferred to the Pacific war theater in the summer of 1944. Definitely a martinet, Marine Captain Herbert W. Coulter was written off by his men as "a bad guy." 1 III It is not possible to reconstruct a fully accurate account of the numbers of "men on board" throughout the V-12 period, because changes in the personnel occurred every four months, some men who lacked officer qualifications were sent to boot camps during term time, others came to the University from sea duty at odd times, all of which produced divergences in statistics. Approximations on newcomers, mostly straight from secondary schools and classified as sailors, ran as follows: November, 1943, 143 (145); March, 1944, 204 (211); July, 1944, 332 (340); November, 1944, 45 (50). At that point the unit stood at about 487, sailors exclusively; companies were reduced to four, and all V-12 men were quartered in Burton and Crosby dormitories and one fraternity house. In July, 1945, the last contingent--fifteen--came on board and the complement dropped to around 300. From first to last, the V-12 students totaled somewhere between 1542 and 1564; of this number perhaps as many as 639 finished their training to the satisfaction of their teachers and the V-12 headquarters. The remainder consisted of men who had been transferred to other institutions, or who had been found unsuitable as officer material, or who belonged to the unit at the time of its discontinuance. Under the V-12 program about a dozen men were stationed at the Colgate-Rochester Divinity School, and since they were being trained as naval chaplains, they wore uniforms at all times. A bronze plaque at the School reads: "This Mark of Commendation is awarded to the Colgate-Rochester Divinity School for effective cooperation in training naval personnel during World War II...Navy V-12 Unit (theological). James Forrestal Secretary of the Navy." 2 By the terms of the so-called G.I. Bill of Rights, V-12 trainees were eligible for most of the benefits, though not the educational ones unless they had seen service with the active armed forces for at least ninety days. The Bureau of Naval Personnel in Washington had jurisdiction in everything pertaining to V-12 curricula and training. It issued "A Manual for the Operation of a V-12 U.S. Navy Unit," which prescribed three terms of sixteen weeks each in a calendar year, beginning in July, November, and March. Curricula, oriented to wartime needs, were designed for potential deck officers, engineers, and prospective physicians and dentists; mathematics, engineering, the sciences, English, and certain naval specialties were emphasized. Trainees were required to study "The Historical Background of the Present World War" (as taught by Professors Perkins and Van Deusen, American democratic ideals and foreign policies were stressed) and a second course on "Naval History and Elementary Strategy." The size of classes jumped to double or more than the pre-war level, the history course in one term soaring to 575. Credit toward a bachelor's degree was granted for all courses completed satisfactorily. For purposes of indoctrination recourse was had to motion pictures. 3 Many V-12 men had had little previous experience with quality education and found academic work at Rochester very hard; the proportion of unsatisfactory performers ran high. On the other side of the desk, teachers had to shape their methods to meet the requirements of a different student body with different backgrounds and different goals; freedom-loving faculty spirits disliked the navy rule that attendance had to be reported after each class meeting. "The general shaking up has been good for us all," President Valentine thought. "We have had to break away from old routine...The experience should be invaluable to education in readjusting to peacetime needs." And he added, "Our College faculty has never appeared in a finer light..." Thanks to its "human assets," which displayed "good old-fashioned qualities of loyalty, industry, cheerfulness, and teamwork," the work at the University had been maintained at a "high qualitative level." At the beginning of the V-12 era, over thirty teachers were brought to the faculty, principally in the sciences, mathematics, and English, and they were reinforced by instructors recruited in Rochester public schools and industries. During the first term certain courses were conducted in the evening; but later only delinquent students attended night classes. For faculty members not engaged in research, twelve hours a week in the classroom was the normal stint, and they carried on for eleven months of the year. Compensation for the increased time devoted to instruction was marginal; when Valentine learned of professorial grumbling about money he was filled with sorrow and anguish and excoriated the dissidents, for whom the war had involved few hardships, as "not patriotic enough to teach without extra pay." 4 IV For the trainees, naval and marine standards of discipline reigned. They were forbidden to smoke or eat on streets, to lounge about on the campus grounds, to gamble or drink excessively, or to show "undue signs of affection in public with women." Two demerits were chalked up for untidiness, ten for absence from a class, twenty-five for gambling, and fifty for drinking at an "off-limits" establishment. Penalties, as a rule, took the form of limitations on "liberty" time, but if a first-year V-12er accumulated more than 150 demerits--half that for more advanced students--severe punishment was imposed; actually, in the first period of V-12 eighty-five percent of the men had no demerits at all. A Student Discipline Board, set up in 1944, recommended penalties if men arrived late for "chow" or lingered too long in the "sack" in the morning. The intrusion of "undesirable women" on the campus led to restrictions on visitors after six p.m.; guards patrolled the ground s all night long and no one was admitted without a pass. A bugle sounded reveille at 6 a.m. and the trainees promptly "hit the deck" for vigorous setting-up exercises; lights out at 22:00 was the rule though on Sunday the hour was 24:00. Barracks were inspected daily to see that everything was tidy and clean; if not, or if there was noise at night, demerits were handed out. At the outset, only fatigue uniforms were issued, the white-garbed gobs being nicknamed "street cleaners" and the marines "garbage men; "morale perked up when "blues" were shipped in for the navy and "greens" for the marines, who eventually got storm hats and fur-lined vests as well. During the early weeks of the program, the men were not permitted to leave the campus. Later "liberty" was granted at mid-week and from 5 p.m. on Saturday to Sunday at 11 p.m., and still later extended liberty was allowed once a month, though it could only be spent within twenty-five miles of the University. If academic work and personal behavior were satisfactory, a leave of three days was permitted at the end of the term--and even longer when the picture in the fighting theaters brightened. At least two men who violated the regulations on liberty were summarily dispatched to boot camps. Cheating on academic work reached a point where the situation was described as "critical;" more cases were investigated in the first V-12 term than in the six preceding years. The faculty Committee on Academic Honesty was raised from three to six members and six students were added; proctoring of examinations was tightened up. 5 Very popular was payday, when each man received a cheque of fifty dollars from the Wave paymaster in Dewey Hall; but after deductions for insurance, a war bond, and the compulsory laundry service, not a great deal was left, though a few trainees somehow contrived to save as much as $1,000 in the course of their V-12 careers. Protests over fees to pay for athletic contests, student publications, and Todd Union were loud and long. Yet sailors and marines responded unanimously to appeals for donations of blood ("Blood ran like borscht," it was said), surpassed the quota for "The March of Dimes" to fight infantile paralysis, and some of them helped in harvesting crops and in canneries. Aside from military drill and maneuvers--held sometimes at night-physical conditioning had an important place in the V-12 program. Every man had to pass a swimming test, work one hour daily in the gymnasium, and take a strength test every four months. To the south of the campus playing fields an obstacle course was laid out, where the sailors crawled through "a rabbit run," swung on an overhead ladder, and climbed a ten-foot wall, all at a fast pace. For the winter months a miniature commando course was laid out in the gymnasium field house. To teach how to abandon a ship and how to return, a platform twenty feet high was erected on the edge of the swimming pool. From it the trainees learned the safest way to jump into the water and to scramble back on cargo nets. It was proposed that boats should be procured for training on the Genesee, one advocate, tongue in cheek, claiming that "If the Genesee can be mastered anything can," but the idea died still-born. Intercompany competitive sports included games, boxing, wrestling, and judo; rivalry was keen and the Rochester Rotary Club awarded trophies to the winning companies. Rifles did not arrive until May, 1945, and then instruction was given in the manual of arms. Customarily, a weekly review of the V-12, accompanied by band music, was arranged. And on more formal occasions full-dress reviews and parades were staged, as was true, for instance, on Memorial Day, 1944; at that time, the University alumni presented a handsome U.S. flag and a distinctive blue banner with a large white anchor in the middle," on it was inscribed in bold white letters "U.S. Navy V-12 Unit" and "University of Rochester." Throngs of onlookers at the review were impressed by the smart execution of maneuvers by the trainees. On D -Day, when the Allied forces stormed onto the beaches of Normandy, the companies were drawn up before Todd Union to listen to talks about the momentous adventure, and to the library chime playing, "O God, our help in ages past." An elaborate review was put on when the commanders of all the V-12 units in the Third Naval District met in Rochester for a conference. Solemn memorial rites at Kilbourn Hall, attended by teachers and students from the several schools, mourned the death of President Franklin D. Roosevelt, and when Nazi Germany capitulated, the V-12 unit assembled on the Eastman Quadrangle; Professor Emeritus Slater offered a moving prayer, closing with, "Eternal Spirit, show us great days when they come, great men when they go, and great light when it dawns." President Valentine reminded the men that Japan had still to be overcome and quoted passages from Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. On the day that Japan surrendered, the trainees were permitted to leave the University grounds and celebrate as they saw fit. V In keeping with well-loved military convention, the V-12 acquired a mascot, a brown puppy, Gizmo, who grew into a universal favorite. Killed by an automobile, he was buried in the hillside south of the football gridiron and a sorrowing rhymster wrote: If marines are sent to heaven, As they tell us in the song, They soon will have a buddy For our Gizmo can't go wrong. Cecil Cesspool, a bull dog, replaced Gizmo without, however, winning anything like the adoration bestowed on his predecessor. Men of the V-12 did not lack for diversions at the University--movies on Saturday evenings, performances by the Rochester Civic Orchestra, by Pianist Jose Iturbi, and entertainers from city radio stations, dances, dances, and more dances in the Palestra or Cutler Union or Helen Wood Hall, shows by "cuties" from Prince Street and by girls from a Rochester factory. A Social Committee, made up of delegates from each V-12 company, eventually assumed responsibility for planning parties and the like. Profits that accrued from sales at the Todd Union canteen, which operated as a modified ship's service store, were spent in furnishing entertainment; other revenues for the same purpose came from soft-drink vending machines in the barracks and from a photo finishing service. Early on, the deportment of some trainees at social gatherings on Prince Street provoked considerable resentment, but soon an intercampus social committee drafted what amounted to ground rules for parties, which brought about reasonably harmonious relations. Certain V-12ers regarded the undergraduates on the women's campus as snobbish, too serious, aggressive, and expensive. On the other hand, Dewey Hall authorities counseled, "Men, we must remember that it is far better for you and me to have something to do with girls of known character [i.e., Prince Streeters] than with the ordinary bar flies one is apt to meet in town." The Campus printed large pictures of a pair of beauties from the Sibley and McCurdy stores who promised "dates" to the trainees who wrote them the best letters--and they kept their word. Lonesome Rochester girls, eager to make the acquaintance of a sailor or a marine, inspired a fragment of doggerel, "Heard in South Park. " I want the lights that brightly shine, I want the man, I want the wine, I want the fun without the price, I want the game with loaded dice, I want the thrill of a long-drawn kiss, I want the things that the good girlies miss, I want the heart and the arms of a man, And still stay single if I can; Now what I want is a little advice... I want to be naught and still be nice. All the men had a standing invitation to frequent the Rochester branch of the USO, located on Franklin Square, which provided dances and roller skating, games, movies, meals, and an abundance of hostesses; and occasional unit or company parties were held in hotels, the Chamber of Commerce, the Elks and St. Joseph's Ukrainian Clubs. Rochester families welcomed trainees to their homes on national holidays and the Rochester Yacht Club opened their facilities to them. "This town is really heaven," a V-12er recorded. VI Although many pre-V-12 activities were given up, seamen and marines joined hands with civilian students in keeping extracurricular life going at a fast clip. On the reorganized Board of Control, which managed extracurricular affairs, the V-12 originally had five representatives and the civilians three; subsequently, the marines elected two delegates, the sailors and the civilians three each, giving students a majority of the membership of seventeen. At the beginning of the V-12 program, not much corps esprit or feeling of allegiance to the University was evident, but a change came rather quickly and a Navy student summed up what happened in this language. "It took us a while to get it; we are beginning to feel it, hear it, and see it. Spirit, we mean, college spirit--unit spirit." Whether due to gridiron triumphs or pleasing social affairs, "the feeling was growing. We were beginning to get used to the set-up, to the campus. We were a good crew." With the advent of the V-12, the experiment in a joint newspaper for the two colleges abruptly ceased "a short but happy marriage." Sailors and marines shared with civilian men in producing the Campus, whose staff changed every four months, which was not conducive to accuracy in reporting, among other things. In size, the paper varied from four to six pages, type turned smaller, and newsprint poorer. Yet there was some excellent photography, notably of full-dress V-12 reviews, along with a succession of "girlie" pictures. Sports stories, as was traditional, occupied a large amount of space, letters from graduates in the armed forces appeared spasmodically, and articles on the history of the University were published. Profiles of University teachers, V-12 officers, and veterans back from active service were frequently printed, together with faculty contributions on post-war problems. Editorials unhesitatingly detailed what the writers conceived to be right and what wrong at the college; after learning of the devastating aerial attacks upon Hiroshima and Nagasaki, an editor soliloquized that the atomic bomb would either put an end to all wars or to the prospects for a peaceful world. Necessarily, special Campus columns reflected the wartime atmosphere; "Straight from Dewey," for example, carried official notices from V-12 headquarters. While the "Entertainment Box" or "Tips for Week-End Liberty" or "The Liberty Bell" listed information on upcoming social events, "Where the Elite Meet" kept readers posted on the liveliest spots in Rochester for dining and dancing. A "Regimental Review" column furnished an outlet for men interested in humorous writing, a "Gripe Box" or "Discussion Box" afforded students space to ventilate grievances and to outline ideas for improvement, and another column dealt with music--jazz and classical. What was happening at the College for Women was recounted under the caption of "Prince Street News," supplemented by correspondence direct from the other campus. Beginning in January, 1945, a "Notes from the Quad" section, devoted to civilian interests, testified to the reviving importance of the non-military personnel. Never did the Campus have such able and provocative cartoonists as in the V-12 period. "Jughaid" depicted a choice Navy character in a delightful variety of circumstances and poses, and when his creator departed from the University, a short-lived "Launcelot" took over. Although the Interpres continued to be a joint enterprise of the two campuses, it was essentially a product of the College for Women. The yearbook of 1944 (class of 1945) carried pictures of the men of the class who were in the military forces; grouped by the branches of the service in which they were enrolled. VII Not only did the Navy authorities approve intercollegiate athletics, they strongly encouraged them. Several outstanding players, who came to the University from other institutions, enabled the football team of 1943 to compile a record of six victories, including Yale and Colgate on their home grounds, as against a single defeat--at the hands of the Red Raiders from the Chenango Valley before an unprecedented Rochester audience of 14,000. The stellar performer, George Sutch, gained the distinction of All-East fullback on the Associated Press team; other V-12 luminaries were Paul McKee, Robert Polidor, Roger Robinson, Robert Sauerwein, none of whom remained at the University long enough to be listed as alumni. Coach Dudley DeGroot, who resigned (1944) after four remarkable seasons to enter professional football, was elected to honorary membership in the U. of R. alumni body; to replace him an experienced and successful coach at Purdue University, Elmer H. Burnham, was chosen and he presided over varsity football destinies until retirement in 1961. In his first season the Rochester eleven was hailed as the mythical champion of New York State colleges, but the New Haven Bulldogs, winning by a lop-sided margin, discovered that the Yellowjackets had lost their sharp sting. In addition to the V-12 stars, Peter A. Stranges, 1941, Norman R. Gay, 1941, William Bruckel, 1942, Charles R. Carman, Francis E. Fox, Richard T. Kramer, Richard Secrest, all 1943, Robert J. Hoe, 1944, and Irving J. Baybutt and James L. Secrest, both 1945, earned secure niches among the U. of R. great. In basketball, the varsity of 1943-1944, composed almost wholly of sailors and marines, such as the luminaries John Bach and Robert Mulvihill, came out ahead in eleven of its fifteen games in a tough schedule; among the victories were thrilling triumphs over New York University in Madison Square Garden and Colgate. Next year, however, the pendulum swung in precisely the opposite direction. The swimming team, which lost twice as many meets as it won, boasted a brilliant performer in Benedict M. Reynolds, non-graduate 1947, who set no fewer than eleven University records. Spring athletic contests, track and baseball, after a two-year lapse, were resumed in 1944. For the first time U. of R. runners competed in intercollegiate track meets in the Boston Garden and Madison Square Garden, and the results were gratifying. The baseball nine started off by winning five straight games, but hit a slump and finished with seven wins and four losses. However, in 1945 the club vanquished all nine opponents, an unparalleled feat; the star twirler, Edwin J. Gniewek, 1945, subsequently tried his luck in professional ball. VIII To serve the religious interests of the V-12, clergymen of the three major faiths were available every day for consultation on the "second deck" of Todd. Worship on a regular basis was begun, but attendance at Protestant services was so sparse that they were soon abandoned. The Third Presbyterian congregation then arranged free transportation to its church, dinner in the home of a member, followed by a social gathering in the parish hall. Weather permitting, the Rochester Protestant communions initiated in 1944 Easter Sunday morning exercises on the Eastman Quadrangle and maintained the service for several years. Certain Roman Catholic students complained that their faith was not always paid due respect in college classrooms. Dean Oren H. Baker of the Colgate-Rochester Divinity School, who thoroughly investigated the causes for the frustration of efforts to foster positive concern for religion at the University, entitled his report, based partly on interviews, "A Study of Religion at the U. of R." He recommended that religion should become a larger offering in the curriculum, that forum discussions on religion should be planned, and that a consultant should be engaged to advise undergraduates on their personal religious problems. To implement the last proposal, the office of University Chaplain was created (1944), financial support coming from Protestant church sources. In the summer of 1945, V-12 men organized a series of experimental worship services as a United Protestant Church. It met on Sunday mornings in Strong Auditorium, city pastors preaching and students taking part in the service; once more, however, interest soon slumped. On the same general pattern as previously, the University administration arranged in 1943 a two-day conference on "The United Nations in the Pacific" with Congresswoman Clare Boothe Luce, Admiral Thomas Hart, and William Henry Chamberlin, journalist and author, as the principal speakers. In a somewhat similar vein, a series of radio addresses--"Time for Science"--was sponsored (1944) in cooperation with Time magazine. The science editor on the Time staff, Gerald L. Wendt, directed the, program and carried on a dialogue with a guest expert each week; together they acquainted the listening public with the significance of wartime research in science and the growing implications of scientific discoveries for everyday life. Under University auspices, too, "Let's Learn Spanish" offered instruction by radio in conversational Spanish. Phi Beta Kappa elected members as customarily and held initiation ceremonies, usually with addresses, in Cutler Union at least four times during the V-12 period. Along with women and civilian men, the Society, initiated four sailors and marines and two nursing students. In 1940 the Iota Chapter records listed 696 members, but that figure must have included scores who were in fact no longer living, since five years later membership was reported to be 499; the Society treasury boasted a modest but healthy surplus. Although much less active than Phi Beta Kappa, Sigma Xi chose fifteen new members in April of 1945. 6 Curricular clubs stopped functioning when the River Campus turned into a military camp, but a small V-12 group convened now and then to talk about current events, and the Engineers Club was presently revived, met regularly, and issued The Rochester Indicator without interruption. In 1945 a student chapter of the American Society of Mechanical Engineers came into existence and at about the same time an Aviation Club was formed. In the autumn of 1943 the, University Marching Band, which performed at home football games, turned coed, fifteen women undergraduates donning uniforms. Throughout most of the V-12 era, a unit dance band flourished and was known interchangeably as "Hewitt's Hepsters" (Sergeant Hewitt being the founding father) or "The Sweaty Sixteen," and a spirited drum and bugle corps was organized. The Glee Club somehow managed to give two concerts each year. More alive were the Stagers, who periodically produced plays for the entertainment of the V-12, and in 1944 the Quilting Club, made up of civilian students as well as sailors and marines, was resurrected. Since the Greeks were forbidden to invite V-12 men to affiliate and since their homes had been taken over for trainees, they had to wage a hard--and a successful--struggle to survive. By decision of the Hellenic Council, no fraternity could pledge more than four civilians each term; some of them initiated only two or three a year. Meetings and initiation rites were conducted partly in college rooms, but mostly, it seems, in the living quarters of undergraduate brothers in the city. In the autumn of 1944, as the V-12 population declined, six fraternity houses were made available for civilian occupancy. Except for one of them, the houses had undergone little more than ordinary wear and tear, and generous compensation was paid to the chapters for use and depreciation. (University officers could write that in spite of the large number of people at the college, "the campus has never been as beautiful and clean" as in the V-12 period.) Simultaneously, fraternity social activity recovered in the form of an Interfraternity Dance and an interfraternity alumni gathering at the Chamber of Commerce. By the summer of 1945 the Greeks were well on the way back to their pre-war level; of the eighty-five civilian Freshmen admitted to the University in July, 1945, nearly half were promptly pledged to fraternities. The foregoing account plainly shows that the V-12 years involved many adjustments, large and small, but by any reasonable test the University had acquitted itself creditably. As the adventure in "education for victory" was drawing toward its close, Commander Neill accurately predicted that "the days of V-12...will prove to be among the most interesting parts of the University's history," and Dean Hoffmeister pronounced the training program an "unqualified success," an interpretation rather on the sanguine side. "We've profited immensely by our stay here," reads a Campus editorial of February 9, 1945. "We've learned that books and labs are a big part of life and we've learned, too, that books and labs are not all of life...We've learned that there is mutual benefit for professors and students in a college." The departing editor finished off his estimate with an expression of gratitude to citizens of Rochester for their hospitality. "There is almost something of the divine in the community spirit and civic pride of Rochester...Good-bye, Rochester, and from the center of our hearts, thanks for being a wonderful town." If sentiments of this nature were not universal in V-12 ranks, they were assuredly widely shared. IX Throughout the V-12 period, male civilians, either too young for military duty or physically disqualified, studied mainly on the River Campus, but a minority attended the College for Women. New civilian students might enter at the beginning of any term, and if they thought the curricular offerings at Prince Street better suited their tastes they might enroll there for the duration. President Valentine reported, happily, that "surprisingly cordial relations" prevailed between the V-12 men and civilians, particularly those engaged in affairs outside of the classroom. As of July, 1943, about 212 civilians were in attendance, and in April, 1944 162 were registered on the River Campus and twenty-eight at the College for Women; seven months later 132 were on the River and forty-eight at Prince Street; and in all divisions of the University there were twenty-three "foreigners," counting six Orientals born under the American flag. Thereafter, directives on deferment of military service having been tightened, the civilian population slumped precipitately; of the seventy men admitted in July of 1943 only thirteen remained two years later. At that juncture, civilian newcomers, designated as the class of 1949/1, numbered about 85, the largest group admitted since September, 1942. Unless they were war veterans, the greenlings were obliged to wear distinguishing "beanies" and to keep off the Eastman Quadrangle. Civilians who were not residents of Rochester had to find living facilities in private homes, except, that is for a set of graduate students who occupied the top floor of Dewey Hall where bunks were sandwiched in between museum skeletons. Beginning in November, 1944, civilians were allotted rooms in all but one of the fraternity houses. Upon the coming of the V-12 an improvised lunchroom for civilians and teachers was set up in the Fauver Stadium, ladies of the faculty volunteering as waitresses at what resembled a picnic. Soon, however, the kitchen equipment of the Faculty Club was transferred to the basement of Rhees Library and a cafeteria there served meals on weekdays. It was possible for faculty men to meet colleagues at "The Greasy Spoon," though "only those blessed with operatic vocal chords" could be heard above the noise; before long, a room in the library was set aside as a faculty rendezvous for part of each day. Hosannas greeted the news that after October, 1944, Todd Union would have space to feed teachers and civilian students. As has been mentioned, civilians took part in extracurricular activities with the V-12 and, as a harbinger of the shape of things to come, a Civilian Undergraduate Council was formed in the spring of 1944. Many civilians responded to constant calls for emergency labor in factories and on farms, where an energetic person might earn as much as seventy-five cents an hour on a piece-work basis. Of immediate significance for the undergraduate body was the establishment in 1944 of five competitive Bausch and Lomb Scholarships--for potential majors in an area of science--and their importance grew with the passing of time. These grants were the outgrowth, in a real sense, of nation-wide Bausch & Lomb Honorary Science Awards given annually since 1932 to secondary school seniors with high standing in scientific subjects. Pupils from anywhere in the United States might apply for a Bausch & Lomb scholarship, which carried a stipend of $500 for each of three academic years of two semesters, and, if needed, the University would extend a loan of comparable amount for the fourth year. Following a thorough screening, the survivors in the competition traveled to Rochester for personal interviews and tests; out of fourteen finalists in 1944, four men and one woman received scholarships and the same distribution prevailed in the second year, when three additional finalists were awarded other scholarships. At the same time a new Pan-American Scholarship was financed by the University treasury; the winner received a stipend of $1,200 for the equivalent of three academic years. 7 X Responding to the war emergency challenge, the Division of University Extension steadily broadened its course offerings to embrace studies geared directly to war needs and sponsored a lecture series on post-war public problems with professors and knowledgeable townsmen as the speakers. Registration in this component of the University, which had the closest contacts with the residents of metropolitan Rochester, trended upward in a gratifying manner. To heighten the prestige of the division, the trustees decided to give it a larger measure of autonomy and a more distinctive name. In honor of the first director the title "Prentiss Gilbert School" was proposed and the trustees, actually voted to call it the "Rhees School of University Studies," but when that name failed to attract unanimous applause, "The University School of Liberal and Applied Studies" was chosen (1944). The title of Professor Earl B. Taylor, the chief administrative officer, was altered to dean and, to cooperate with him in planning, a committee of professors and interested Rochesterians was appointed. Publicity efforts strove to acquaint citizens in the Rochester area, especially returning war veterans, with the wide range of opportunities that the School offered; study programs, it was emphasized, would be tailored to meet the interests of individual students. 8 During the second half of the war era, registration at the Graduate School sank to less than 300. In 1943 only seven Ph.D's. were conferred--all in science, in 1944 seven more in the sciences and one in music, and in 1945 six. Work leading to the Ph.D. in biophysics was authorized, and the number of scholarships for graduate study was modestly increased. The Committee on Graduate Studies voted that the examination on a foreign language should be conducted by the language department concerned, using material submitted by the department in which the candidate was studying; ordinarily, the language requirement should be satisfied before the qualifying examination for the Ph.D. and at least a year before the final examination. It was also decided that applicants for admission to the Graduate School should take the Graduate Record Examination, except in the case of music and chemistry students and part-time students at the University School. 9 A graduate school committee on post-war planning recommended that greater consideration should be given in Ph.D. programs to broad intellectual and cultural education and that departments of the college not already offering the M.A. should be strongly encouraged to do so. To improve esprit de corps among graduate students and as a sort of channel of communication with administrative officers, frequent evening seminars were inaugurated to which all candidates were invited. At one session, President Valentine outlined an interesting vision of "The Ideal Graduate School," stressing that, as matters stood, too much Ph.D. training was too narrowly specialized. He proposed for discussion that a new graduate degree--call it a doctor of arts or a doctor of liberal studies--might be instituted with a curriculum to equip candidates for teaching posts, creative writing, and the like; to earn the degree aspirants would study on a six-year schedule--three of them undergraduate in character. Partly because of nearly year around use of facilities, University spending at all levels jumped by a million dollars between 1942-1943 and 1944-1945, exceeding $5.6 million. Relatively small sums flowed into the endowment portfolio in the first two of these years and the income generated by them was designated for specific purposes in the main, as the treasurer's annual reports monotonously, if not indeed regretfully, reiterated. But in 1945 over $2.6 million was added to University resources, four-fifths for a neuro-psychiatric clinic. Financial tangles of staggering magnitude and complexity emerged in connection with government reimbursement to the University for the V-12. Certain difficulties were traceable to the novelty of the whole scheme and to the inexperience of the fiscal officers in the Bureau of Naval Personnel with this kind of venture, while other problems were due to the constantly shifting size of the V-12 complement. Under a formal contract the federal government paid for the use and maintenance of the physical properties of the University, Rhees Library included, classroom and laboratory instruction, books, office and classroom supplies, the meal service for the trainees (which varied from $1.16 to $1.19 per man per day), the physical training program, medical and most dental care, and incidentals like long-distance telephone calls. Payments by the government, together with rising tuition income from the growing College for Women, enabled the University treasury to ride out the war on an even keel. 10 Except for the election in 1944 of Bartel H. Reinheimer, bishop of the Protestant Episcopal diocese of Rochester, the board of trustees experienced no change in the second half of the war era. But in 1945 Edward G. Miner, full of years and honors, resigned as chairman, though he agreed to keep on as a trustee as he had been doing for thirty-five years. To his surprise at the Commencement ceremonies that year, Miner was given a doctorate of laws--an honor to a trustee without precedent in U. of R. annals. In the stead of Miner, the choice for chairman fell upon a second veteran trustee, M. Herbert Eisenhart, president of Bausch and Lomb, Inc., who held the office until 1952. The Committee for the College for Women, Valentine observed, was surpassed in activity only by the Executive and Finance Committees of the trustees," experience taught that the presence of Marion Fry on both the College Committee and the Trustee Board was "an extremely happy arrangement." The Associated Alumni manifested (1942) their appreciation to the trustees by adopting all of them who were not graduates as life members of the organization, and at the induction ceremonial each trustee received a bottle of dandelion wine, inscribed "Alumni Brand, Vintage of 1850." Looking ahead, the trustees considered plans for post-war development. A committee, for example, was named to cooperate with alumni in obtaining gifts in proportion to their means and sense of responsibility. Shortly before the end of the war, Valentine tendered to the trustees a comprehensive agenda of future expansion. For the River Campus, he contemplated doubling the dormitory capacity, an urgently needed extension of Todd Union, wings on the Lattimore and Bausch and Lomb buildings (this specifically to ensure the return to the University of Professors Noyes and DuBridge when their wartime duties were over), enlarged facilities for engineering, and the erection of administration offices either attached to Rhees Library on the east or in a new structure facing Strong Auditorium. The College for Women required more residence halls, a new gymnasium with a swimming pool; and a new library or expansion of Sibley Hall; a men's dormitory for the Eastman School was cited as yet another pressing need. The estimated cost of implementing this program was put at $3.5 million--which seems skimpy. Aside from physical expansion, endowment resources, the President remarked, would have to be increased to finance larger salary budgets at the Eastman School and the Medical School (and more research money for the latter), bigger undergraduate populations at the two colleges, and for the Graduate School. Adding matters up, the University would require in excess of $14 million over the coming ten years. It was a challenge, Valentine commented, that left "the trustees gasping but game," and he reminded one of them that unless the proposals were turned down as unwise, "each trustee must roll up his sleeves for a real effort." True enough, and the Board, ever on the alert not to court disaster by overextending financial commitments, cautiously responded by assenting to the preparation of tentative plans. 11 XI While war raged all across the globe, University officers and teachers busied themselves with imaginative approaches to curricular and related matters of post-war education. Several projects, it is true, never advanced beyond the blueprint stage, as was the fate of an Institute of Government which in one phase of the lengthy deliberations was to have been combined with sociology in a regional Institute of Social Studies. Proponents reasoned that the name Institute would lend prestige to the undertaking which would constitute an agency for integrating social research bearing upon metropolitan Rochester with traditional disciplines. In 1944, the trustees actually approved a plan for collaboration of the University with the Colgate-Rochester Divinity School, whereby a student could obtain bachelors degrees in arts and divinity after six years. Up to a point, the scheme recalled the Siamese twin alignment that existed at the dawn of higher education beside the Genesee. It was not until 1967, however, that definite affiliation of the two institutions was effected and then in a way that served as a model for parallel coalitions in other American communities. Since a curriculum devised for business administration failed to gain the necessary stamp of approval by the New York State Department of Education, alternate programs were mapped out for a B.S. in business administration, which might be obtained either on the River Campus or at the University School, and for a B.S. with a major in accounting available only at the University School. Interesting though futile negotiations started in 1944 to remove the Lowthrope School of Landscape Architecture and Horticulture from Groton, Massachusetts, to Rochester. The School's director proposed that temporary quarters should be set up on the Eastman House property; Valentine countered that the school would have to bring a dowry of at least $300,000 and when that stipulation could not be met the school merged with a Rhode Island institution. 12 Valentine advocated a large program of industrial research, which would be jointly financed by business corporations, educational foundations, and the University, to be managed in conjunction with the office of coordinator of research. The President was deeply concerned lest Syracuse University should unveil a rival project before the U. of R. was ready to make an announcement; in fact, the plan, according to the extant evidence, never obtained trustee endorsement. The idea of educating engineers in aviation, either in cooperation with the Massachusetts Institute of Technology or alone, was debated in administration circles, but--again--nothing came of it. On the other hand, in February, 1945, it was revealed that a Division of Engineering would be created inside the College for Men, replacing the department of engineering and with something of the autonomy of a separate school. Following recommendations by national leaders in engineering, instruction in electrical engineering would be added to the existing offerings in chemical and mechanical engineering; a maximum of 300 engineers was envisaged for the postwar era. In the thinking of the President, an undergraduate body of 1,000 would be the ideal size for the River Campus and of 750 for the College for Women. Quality, not mere numbers, would be accented as in the past, and new capital funds, as indicated above, would be required to carry out the expansion. 13 For two years an able, industrious faculty Committee on Post-War Planning for the colleges, working in conjunction with a Rochester Council on Post-War Problems and in time with an undergraduate group of six women and two civilian men, grappled with an elaborate and steadily expanding agenda: the basic objectives of a university, the goals of liberal education, how to maintain the historic values of the liberalizing arts in the face of intensified pressure for vocational training, how the humanities and the social studies might contribute to service (an euphemism for vocational) education, how to attract and hold a teaching force of quality and adequate in quantity, the junior college, "language houses" such as were flourishing in many high-ranking institutions, courses of study that should be offered, whether to perpetuate the wartime accelerated schedule, ways and means to enable impecunious learners to earn a degree while earning a living, and not least, the care and treatment of military veterans. On invitation, University graduates and teachers sent in scores of suggestions on ways to make the college experience more relevant to the requirements of day-to-day living. Not many of the recommendations resulting from the protracted committee deliberations were ever put to application, though one member remembered that the effort was a rewarding personal experience. All divisions of the University toiled away on plans to furnish opportunities for discharged servicemen, both former students at the U. of R. and others. A letter to 330 men, whose studies for a degree had not been completed before they entered the armed forces, reminded them that academic work could be carried on while they were still on active duty or awaited demobilization. More than that, a widely distributed pamphlet, "Education for Veterans," assured readers of the eagerness of the University to help equip them for civilian careers. College credit, it was stated, would be allowed both for military training and for educational work performed while in uniform. It directed attention to the varied educational offerings available to veterans and to the University's counseling and placement bureaus, and outlined the provisions in the Servicemen's Readjustment Act, commonly known as the G. I. Bill, and related legislation touching on government benefits for educational purposes. At the River Campus a counselor for returned veterans was appointed and advisory counseling was likewise supplied at the University School. 14 XII When it was learned that the Navy intended to discontinue the V-12 on July 1, 1945--later extended to June 30, 1946--the University authorities assiduously sought a substitute in the form of a Naval Reserve Officers Training Corps (NROTC). The board of trustees authorized the construction of a building for this purpose at a cost of $200,000, three-eighths of which, it was erroneously imagined, would be borne by the federal government. The prospect of a special building along with the excellent record of the U. of R. in operating the V-12 were important factors in obtaining an NROTC. Scores of institutions put in bids for a NROTC unit, and early in May of 1945 news came that twenty-five colleges and universities across the country had been selected, Rochester among them, though having the smallest student body of the lot. It was understood that the NROTC would contain approximately 300 men, about half of them initially transferred from the V-12. The NROTC program, it may be pointed out, involved a permanent scheme of instruction in basic naval subjects coupled, with conventional academic disciplines. From the standpoint of the Navy, the fundamental objective was to turn out men as junior officers for the fleet or the marine corps. As a navy official put the matter, the NROTC would not "upset the [traditional] educational program, but [would] rather work with it. We look to the colleges for academic leadership," he explained, "and while the Navy has a particular interest in the teaching of naval science, it seeks the support and counsel of university faculties in making that department educationally successful. " A department of naval science and tactics, manned by professional officers, would be established and a course on "The Foundations of National Power" would be introduced to the curriculum. Navy enrollees, who would receive stipends and uniforms from the government, might obtain a bachelor's degree and commissions as ensigns, to be followed by a term of sea duty. In November of 1945 the NROTC at Rochester, which became a lasting feature of the River Campus landscape, came into being. 15 XIII Though the University service flag, stored (1968) in the Archives and denoting men and women in the national service, bears the numerals 2,423, it does not in fact count all who were on active duty. More accurate--yet not wholly so--is 2,549, divided into 1,811 graduates, 474 undergraduates, 264 faculty and staff. For the colleges 982 alumni were recorded, ninety alumnae, 474 undergraduates, and twenty-five teachers and staff; upwards of 500 from the Eastman School, graduates and undergraduates, served with the armed forces, and in addition there were five from the faculty; the Medical Center roll of honor lists 192 alumni, 234 teachers and staff, and forty-seven nurses. Between the halves of a football game on October 5, 1946, the University war dead were remembered. A color guard carrying a banner holding fifty-three gold stars paraded on the field, a trumpeter sounded taps, and the bellman at the library chime played the Alma Mater. Whether this commemoration was restricted to graduates and former students of the college alone is not clear; in any case it is incomplete. According to one compilation prepared by an unknown hand and dated September 6, 1946, forty-six casualties were identified with the Men's College, six with the Eastman School, and four with the Medical School, fifty-six in all, but that again is incomplete. Three more from the Eastman School are known to have perished, one more from the Medical School, eleven more from the College, several of them in attendance only briefly, and one who had studied at the University School, bringing the known total to seventy-two. 16 "It would be tragedy indeed," a publication of the Associated Alumni declared, "if we were to permit the list of Rochester's [war] casualties to become a list only...If we permit its names to blend into a sentimental and meaningless pattern of self-forgetfulness, we not only deny their sacrifice; we... waste the victory they purchased for us." As a matter of fact, while the walls of Todd Union contain (1968) tablets giving the names of the University men who died in the Civil War and in the First World War, there is none for the Second World War. After stating (erroneously) that fifty-nine graduates and former students lost their lives, a pamphlet called "The Morning Star" focused on the military career of one University serviceman, Norbert S. Schulz, 1945, who in boyhood had resolved to devote his life to medicine. Schulz graduated on October 7, 1944, but was not present to receive his diploma, for a month earlier he had been inducted into the army and in the following January he went overseas, eventually being assigned to a medical unit. Fatally wounded on a battlefield in Germany, he died on Good Friday, 1945, and was laid to rest in a military cemetery in the Netherlands. His mourning family established a fund at the University in his memory. 17 XIV Between the summer of 1943 and the autumn of 1945, graduation occasions came thick and fast--thirteen in all, two of them for M.D's. exclusively. Except for the "regular" Commencements in May of 1944 and 1945 at the Eastman Theatre on the customary pattern, exercises were conducted at the Strong Auditorium and ceremonies were cut to the bone. Women graduates met each year for a plain supper, and in 1944 a campaign was initiated to raise money for a swimming pool in an enlarged athletic and recreational facility, which might be attached to the south side of Anthony Gymnasium. "Let's all get in the swim," appealed a snappy brochure seeking contributions from alumnae. Year after year the alumnae resorted to a variety of devices to obtain funds, but before enough had been accumulated, the trustees made a momentous decision to integrate the two college campuses. For the duration of the war alumni reunions and other traditional Commencement weekend activities were canceled. By way of substitute, about a hundred graduates in the Rochester area volunteered as orderlies, elevator operators, and the like at Strong Memorial Hospital, where an acute manpower shortage existed. They were supplied with white, knee length jackets with "volunteer" stenciled on the sleeve, and they "set an almost unbelievable record in attendance and in faithful discharge of their duties." In 1945 Alumni Secretary Dalton, whose enterprising project to enlist graduates in selected cities to steer outstanding youths to Rochester had been frustrated by the outbreak of war, started the rejuvenation of regional alumni clubs with the same objective in mind. His opposite number at Prince Street, Janet Phillips Forbes, 1940, doubled as representative of the College for Women calling on secondary schools. 18 XV According to a tabulation completed in 1945, the University in ninety-five years had conferred approximately 12,600 degrees, nearly half of them B.A.'s; counting bachelors of science, too, first degree winners totaled about 9,500. Of the order of 700 had studied for their sheepskins at what came to be designated the University School of Liberal and Applied Studies. (Since its inception in 1916 about 15,000 men and women had received instruction at the School and its predecessors.) School of Nursing graduates were not included in the study, and only about thirty of the more than 1,500 V-12 trainees had remained long enough at the University to win degrees. About 2,725 graduate degrees had been earned (including 764 M.D.'s), and some 430 honorary degrees had been granted. It is worth noting that in 1945 women outnumbered men, 550 being in attendance at the College for Women, 440 at the Eastman School, 170 in the Graduate School, 325 at the School of Nursing, fourteen M.D. aspirants, and 750 in the University School. The total, exceeding 2,000, contrasted markedly with the little contingent of venturesome spirits who matriculated in 1900. 19 Several sons and daughters of Alma Mater who graduated during the hectic war years attained distinction in their careers at a relatively young age. For example, Norman R. Gay, 1941, specialist in thermodynamics and heat transfer, attained the office of dean in the School of Engineering at Notre Dame University. A top-ranking nuclear physicist, Herbert F. York, Jr., 1943, specialized in the application of atomic energy to national defense, working for various government agencies and writing extensively on his researches; in 1961 he became chancellor of the University of California, San Diego, a post he relinquished to take a professorship in physics there. Robert H. Dicke, an expert in particle physics, gravitation, arid relativity, received a Ph.D. in 1941, advanced to a professorship in physics at Princeton, his undergraduate college, and for his learned investigations was elected to the National Academy of Sciences. The distinguished service award of the Atomic Energy Commission--its highest employee honor--was bestowed upon William L. Ginkel, 1942, manager of the National Reactor Testing Station of the AEC in Idaho. Tagged a "one man peace corps, " William C. Caccamise, 1944, acquired an M.D. at the Medical School (1946), became a specialist in the medicine of the eye, and spent three months each year treating thousands of indigent patients at a clinic in Patna, India. 20 For their scientific accomplishments after receiving the Ph.D. in chemistry, three very capable men advanced to responsible professional positions. Max S. Matheson, 1940, an expert in photo and radiation chemistry and kinetics became research director of chemistry at Argonne (Illinois) National Laboratory, while J. William Zabor, 1940, was outstanding as director of research in industrial chemistry for the Wyandotte Chemicals Corporation. A distinguished professor of chemistry at Brown University, Josef F. Bunnett, 1945, was elected to the National Academy of Arts and Sciences. Noted for research articles in mathematics, Harold F. Bright, recipient of a master's degree in 1944, advanced to the vice-presidency of George Washington University. Two men of 1943 made their mark as historians, Richard C. Wade, University of Chicago, and Henry S. Vyverberg, University of Akron. Taking American urban life as his province, Wade wrote The Urban Frontier (1959) and Slavery in the Cities (1964), and Vyverberg was the author of Historical Pessimism in the French Enlightenment (1958). Burton G. Andreas, 1948, who concentrated in the psychology of learning, joined the Psychology Department at Rochester. After his graduation in 1945, Richard F. Eisenberg became a teacher of engineering at the University; his specialty was physical metallurgy and he was also a consultant on metals for industrial firms. Robert L. Conly, 1940, filled an assistant editor's chair of the National Geographic Magazine, while Emerson E. Chapin, 1941, worked on the New York Times, part of the time as Tokyo correspondent. Apart from writing and translating several books, such as Stockholm, Capital and Crossroads (1953), Barnett F. Anderson, 1940, became the deputy director of policy and plans of the United States Information Service and later a counselor in the U.S. Embassy in Spain. Unusually successful in the realm of business were John M. Wolgast (son of two U. of R. graduates), 1940, vice-president of National Airlines, Glen R. Lord, 1941, vice-president of the Northrop Corporation, and Glenn C. Bassett, Jr., 1945, senior vice-president of the Wells Fargo Bank in San Francisco. Robert A. Woods, 1942, Chicago investment counselor, and Richard B. Secrest, 1943, Rochester attorney, were elected to the University's board of trustees. Two alumnae of 1940 gained distinction as writers. Anna Marie Sinclair Mehdevi composed magazine articles and books with a Middle Eastern setting like Persian Adventure (1953). Noted columnist and television editor of newspapers in New York City, Harriet Van Horne Lowe was called "the china doll with a harpoon." 21
Robert Miles 23am Rar Files
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