"He was the life and soul of Wabash College."












"Dean Moore epitomized everything that I hold dear about the college. The traditions. What it means to be a true gentleman and scholar. May his memory live on with all the accolades that it justly deserves. He was indeed some Little Giant."


Winter/Spring 2002

Norman Moore

Wabash College Dean of Students from 1959 to 1984

Excerpts from e-mails received by the College from those hearing news of the death of Dean Norman Moore

From: Steve a Baker, Portsmouth, UK
Subject: Dean Moore

He was the first person I met from the Wabash Community.

There was a restaurant in Mishawaka named the Lincoln Highway Inn where Wabash did a recruitment evening in 1970. My friend RJ Reed and I went along. RJ had already been accepted to Wabash; I was still thinking.

We walked into a large room of men wearing suits and it wasn't that comfortable. Then, this bearded old guy with a well worn jacket walked up to us and said "Well you're RJ Reed, so you must be Steve Baker." I was
floored. Later, I learned that he always knew everyone’s name. It wasn't that he considered it important; it was just magic.

He was the life and soul of Wabash College.


From: Steven Kain ’63
Date: Mon, 21 Jan 2002

My wife, Sharon, and I got married two weeks before I came to Wabash as a freshman in the fall of 1959. There were several married couples at that time with some living in Mud Hollow and others as ourselves in small apartments. Connie Moore and Alice Rogge served as sponsors for the Dames Club which provided an opportunity for the wives to have a social gathering. Several wives were pregnant and Connie Moore shared that same attribute as a sponsor.
Sharon and I had a daughter during my sophomore year and a son during my junior year (Bryan '84). Sharon worked my freshman year but I was the breadwinner the last three years delivering donuts for Hardy's bakery and clerking at the Sportsman Shop. Dollars were scarce. Thanks to Norman Moore and Connie and the Rogges we got free tickets to Pan Hel in both the junior and senior years. This was a great treat.

Twenty years later my son, Bryan, then a struggling junior at Wabash, contracted mono and was going to have to come home for a period of time to recuperate. This illness seemingly was going to end his stint at Wabash.
I decided that if anyone could help it was Norman Moore. I called him one evening about 9:30 to ask him to check on Bryan's status as a student and see if we could make arrangements to be able to finish the year and be in a position to go on to his senior year. Within 24 hours Dean Moore, as I knew him, had charted Bryan's remaining coursework and arranged with various professors to continue his work during the illness.

I don't imagine that this could have been done in too many other places. Bryan did go on to his senior year and graduated with his class in 1984.
Those are the reasons why I say that Dean Moore was "Some Little Giant".

Date: Tue, 05 Feb 2002
From: Guyanna Spurway, Assistant to the Dean for College Advancement, Wabash College

When I first started working at Wabash I worked in the Registrar's/Deans' Office with Dean Moore, Warren Shearer and Bob Harvey. To watch these three men at work was a joy and sometimes terrifying for a young lady!

I later moved to the Advancement Office and worked with contacting students to write thank you letters to the donors of their scholarships. Some students did not always respond to writing a letter and in the end I would call Dean Moore and ask him to get them to write. I actually had a student rush into my office in less than five minutes after I called Dean Moore and he had his thank you note completed. If I ever needed help with a student, I sure knew whom to call! It was also terrifying to come in to work on a Monday and find that the other two ladies in the office had gone on vacation for a week and I was left to work for Moore, Shearer and Harvey!

From: Jim Graham
Director, Conferences
National Defense University
Institute for National Strategic Studies
Date: Tue, 22 Jan 2002

It was a warm spring night, about MIDNIGHT and probably the biggest ever BETA-DELT water fight had been going on across Wabash Avenue long enough that the neighbors called to complain. (This was before the Delts moved to their current location so the DELT house was directly across Wabash Ave from the BETA house.) There were over one hundred students spread out in the front yards of the two houses and students were also running back and forth across the street to attack.

Dean Moore came sauntering across the Delt driveway from the east wearing his British driving cap and Bermuda shorts and of course he was smoking his pipe. He stopped as he reached the edge of the front yard and calmly said in a stern voice, "Gentlemen: I think it is time to stop." As the last word rolled off of his tongue, a water balloon thrown by the fullback on the football team, DELT Ken Parmalee, came from across the front lawn and hit Dean Moore directly.

Without hesitation, Dean Moore sprinted across the front yard, put a beautiful Princeton tackle around Parmalee's legs, and with Ken lying on his back and Dean Moore sitting on top of him, we all heard "Ken, I SAID I think it is time to stop. Do you understand?" And with that, the crowd dispersed, with everyone going back to their respective living units. Dean Moore stood up, put on his cap, about faced and head off to the East smoking his pipe.

To my knowledge, nothing more was ever said about this incident.

From: Charles Quillin
Vice President for Student Development and Dean of Students, Point Park College
Date: Thu, 24 Jan 2002

The fall term, 1959 found me beginning my senior year at Wabash and Dean Moore entering his "freshmen" year. As a senior independent, I was selected as a member of a group of students to host a dinner with the Dean in the Great Hall dining area of the Campus Center. On the day of the dinner, I was not feeling quite up to par (the cause was to be manifested [experienced] the next day as a perforated appendix followed by incipient peritonitis) so I probably was not exactly on top of my game or one could say listless; thus, I was not the most sterling of dinner participants.

Making as pleasant a conversation with the new Dean as I could muster, I happened, by accident, to manipulate my arm in a movement across the top of my dinner plate on which rested a dinner knife. Unbeknownst to me, the sleeve of my jacket caught the resting knife and removed said knife, sliding if down the sleeve of the jacket.

As the dinner conversation progressed, my arm in gesture, aimed in such a way, as to propel the knife from the sleeve as a projectile across the table and onto Dean Moore's plate. The table fell absolutely silent with audible, muffled gasps as well as restrained snickers later emerging. I believe at that point I went into total shock followed by embarrassment if not humiliation. I was sure I was dead meat and would surely be deemed as unworthy to complete the senior year. I would imagine that I was quite a sight alternating between ashen gray and flashing red.

Well, Dean Moore cleared his throat then he lifted the knife from his plate, briefly contemplating it, and handed the knife back across the table toward my trembling hand; and in a calm, reassuring voice coming from the deadpan face with the twinkling eyes, said: "I believe you lost something!" His grace not only covered what at the time was a humiliating moment for me, but it eased for all an awkward moment.

I believe that Dean Moore, by his grace and presence, eased many uneasy moments during his career at Wabash. As I pursued a similar professional career as the Dean, I often reflected back on that event and Dean Moore's response, trying to emulate that grace as I have dealt with students. On return trips back to the College as a young alum, I always enjoyed looking up the Dean and sharing with him my early career development. He was a good role model. On one occasion, I shared the knife story with him. We had a chuckle.

From: Wm. Wleklinski
The John Marshall Law School
Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2002

Those who belong to Wally-L or Wally-A will know that Norman C. Moore has died. He was Dean of Students from the late 1950s till the mid '80s. My few experiences with the man were fine. I suspect many of us (Milan, Page, John Holt, Jim M., etc.) remember him well. He was a Princeton man, an assistant football coach, and also taught a section of "CC," as well as holding that difficult administrative job.


From: Lou Fenoglio, Salomon Smith Barney
Sent: January 22, 2002

There are many stories to tell—like leading the charge at DePauw after the Bell was stolen my junior year. However, I will share with you one among the many memories I have of Dean Moore. The Dean taught me a very valuable lesson of Honor and Integrity. I recall it to be my sophomore year near the beginning when we applied for new student ID cards. Not realizing the importance of the honor system, when applying for the ID, you were requested to provide your birth date.

Seizing the moment, I took what I thought was an innocent opportunity to instantly make myself "21" and gain entrance to various drinking establishments.
Of course, Dean Moore found us out and several days later "invited" me to his office for a "discussion." The offense was grounds for dismissal, I'm sure, but that is not what the Dean had in mind. Instead, he counseled me like a father or big brother on the virtues of honesty and integrity and how I might plan to conduct myself in later life. The point hit home! That was the last I heard of the Phi Delt ID caper.

A few years after college, I found myself in the new Dean's office helping to defend our then current Senior Pledge Trainer who was about to be expelled by Dean Miller for various alleged offenses. That senior graduated, but it seemed that that Dean was trying to find a way to kick kids out of college as a few other similar trials took place. And that was one of the key differences between the two Deans.

Dean Moore always tried to find ways to keep his boys in college!

From: Tim Wohlford ’84
Date: 17 Jan 2002

I met Dean Moore in the fall of '84.

Actually, my father met him before I did, as Dean Moore spoke to the parents gathered for Freshman Friday. My father still tells the story of that session, where a mother began a question with, "Will the boys...". Dean
Moore was quick to tell her, and the entire assembly, that we were now men, and would be expected to act like men, and would be treated like men. In a culture with precious few "rite of passage" events to mark a transition into manhood perhaps this was the most significant sign to many of our parents—that Dean Moore said we were men, would be treated like men, and would be expected to act like men.

His ability to materialize out of thin ether while we were busy painting someone's anatomical parts a dark shade of green didn't hurt his ability to keep order either. Perhaps he was as much Zen master as he was educator.
Tim Wohlford '84
(putting patches on my jackets in Dean Moore's memory)


From: Tom Jennings ’71
Date: Fri, 18 Jan 2002

Dean Moore was the first person at Wabash who showed he cared about me. When my first semester grades had risen from abominable to average, he made it his business to let me know I had done "a helluva job".

Later in my Wabash years, I called him at home one early evening to ask what was to become of a guy with 4 F's and a D. He met me in his office in ten minutes. Our conversation was probably the first big "grow-up" pill I had to swallow. He just asked the right questions and let my answers be the solution to my problem.

I ended up leaving Wabash for a semester, but with the spectre of Vietnam facing me, I buckled down and ended up being graduated with my class.
I'll never forget the sight of Dean Moore in his cap, briskly walking across the Wabash campus. But never too fast to stop and encourage one of his charges.


From: Jack Hauber ’66
Subject: Re: Norman Moore

I remember Dean Moore as the person who gave me the opportunity to take attendance in Chapel ... Why? Because it earned for me the $900 a semester that I needed my senior year to stay at Wabash. The alternative was to drop out or finish at IU. Neither was attractive to me and he knew that. Since I live only 2 hours from Philadelphia, please let me know if the service is in this area ... I WILL attend because he would have done the same more me.

From: Mark Gilbert ’88
Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2002

Dean Moore epitomized everything that I hold dear about the college. The traditions. What it means to be a true gentleman and scholar. May his memory live on with all the accolades that it justly deserves. He was indeed some Little Giant.

From: Page Stephens ’65
Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2002
Without Norman Moore Wabash might not have had enough students to make up a class at least during my days in school.

Oh yes, he would throw out the occasional student. Two friends of mine suffered this indignity, but once they had paid due penance--in this case a hand delivered, handwritten apology for mooning the wife of the mayor of Crawfordsville while under the influence of all the spirits they could beg, borrow or steal from their friends they were readmitted.

Either Norm did not know or did not care that the two guilty parties were accompanied on their mooning expedition by those who were victims of the depredations on their booze supplies who had been following
them around just to see what would happen or he didn't care. Had he known that all too many of us were walking with them late at night and every time we saw car lights coming we would shout "(Names deleted to
protect the guilty). It's time to moon!" many more of us might have been forced to go to the mayor's wife with an apology in order to get back into Wabash.

Norm was correct in his assessment of the gravity of this situation: it demanded a decent punishment but not one which really deserved the ultimate penalty so instead he decided to deal with it by totally embarrassing those he knew to be involved.

Now that is the mark of a good and wise dean.

Page Stephens

PS. OK, Norm, wherever you are, you now know the name of at least one more of the people involved in this incident, and if you can communicate with me from the beyond I can give you at least one more name though
I have long since forgotten the rest since it was quite a crowd. And if you were unaware of the fact that the two perps also mooned the entire library from the top of the stairs you know it now.

I wrote a song about it at the time which goes "When the moon shines brightly at old Wabash, then you know you're in your Indiana home."

PPS. My good friend Bill Starr '38 and I are still working on our book of anecdotes from our Wabash years which will eventually include all of the most silly and embarrassing incidents which occurred when we as
all Wabash students are and must be of necessity, wet behind the ears.

Please send your own reminiscences to hpst@earthlink. edu.

From: Tim Oakes ’77
Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2002

From Class Agent Letter

Dean Moore was everything that I had ever seen in the movies about small, liberal arts colleges. He was about 5’8” tall with only a slightly portly figure. He always wore either a thick sweater or a tweed sports coat. Ever present was the tweed cap when he appeared outside in the elements. Finally, and as if to make the last stroke of the brush on a timeless painting, he usually had a large stogie (cigar) parked in the corner of his mouth. The black horned-rim glasses added the Barry Goldwater touch.

I knew nothing about college when I entered Wabash, literally. I had never known anyone personally or in my family who had attended college. I assumed teachers at my high school had attended college, but our conversations outside of class centered on staying out of trouble, avoiding drugs, or some other safety advice. I would liken my idea and knowledge of what college would be to your knowledge of the daily life of the folks in a remote province of China today. You think you have an idea, but you just don’t know. As a result, I perhaps absorbed more of my surroundings than most during my freshman year. And I absorbed Dean Moore.

Everything he did when I was present was awe-inspiring. During my life, I have met only two men who carried a crowded room without saying much: Muhammad Ali and Dean Moore. These were people who, while talking to someone else, you were still watching them. I am not smitten by celebrity. My Appalachian family did not tolerate “big shots”, but when Dean Moore was around when I was at a function, in a room, listening to a lecture, or having a meal, I knew it immediately. Perhaps my experience was different than others during that period of the mid-80s. His legend was enhanced by the upperclassmen in my fraternity. Guys like Barry Bone, Ray Jovanovich, and even John Broderson lauded him to the underclassmen. A student may have gotten the worse side of a disciplinary decision of Dean Moore, but somehow, you left feeling that it was your fault and that you had let him down. Guys in my living unit may have gotten crossways with him, but I never heard one of them lash out at him personally.

My freshman-year meeting occurred in his office. I got my notice in the campus mail, and the notice was the same as my classmates: here’s your time, meet Dean Moore at his office, call if there is a conflict to reschedule. I am not sure if I know of anyone who ever rescheduled. I seem to remember that others had gone before me, but I don’t recall any horror stories about my classmates’ meetings. Still, I had this uneasiness about meeting with the Dean of Students. I waited for what seemed like an unusually long period of time outside of his office for my appointment. Since I had heard that he met with every freshman and every senior during the year, I expected to be part of a group or for there to be a long line of people awaiting their appointments. But I was the only one. So, I waited and tried to catch a glimpse of Di Springer every opportunity that I thought she was not looking my way. Finally, I was called. Again, I was surprised to find that no other student was walking out of his office. I wondered, “when did he find the time to meet all of these students?!?”

I sat across from him. I remember the sunlight and the arboretum in the window behind him. He had a file, which I assume was similar to Hoover’s files, except that it had my name on it. He studied for a short moment. Without engaging in small talk first, or anything else, he then looked up to me and asked, “Why is it that all the students that we get from Tech High School have really high math scores and really low verbal scores on their SATs?” I hadn’t expected this question, but fortunately my TWO experiences with the SAT and one experience with the PSAT had already given me the answer.

I responded, “Well, I assume it’s because the verbal on the SAT is not about grammar skills, reading comprehension, or the ability to read or write. It’s about vocabulary. If you don’t know what the word means, it‘s highly unlikely you will be able to remember it. And frankly, there weren’t too many words with over four-letters being used around Tech.”

Dean Moore had this cackle of a laugh. It sounded similar to the Penguin character from the Batman series. He let it out after my answer. “Well, I guess that’s probably true! AAH, AAAH, AAH!” He mentioned something about Wabash taking care of that problem, asked me how classes were going, inquired about my fraternity pledgeship, encouraged me to not get pigeon-holed in the Phi Gam house, and closed the meeting. I had only been in his office for fifteen minutes, but it seemed like an afternoon.

My second lasting impression of Dean Moore is one that is shared by many. I know because I have heard the story many times. The story always seems to be different in the location, situation, number of people, and other peripheral facts, but it is essentially the same. In my case, it was a Wabash-DePauw basketball game. Fans from both teams were getting closer and closer to each other at one corner of the court. The game was back and forth. The cheers turned more and more ugly and personal. Eventually, and as usual, scuffles broke out between the fans. Security and some members of the college communities assisted in breaking these up, but each incident only seemed to serve to make both parties angrier. Finally, at about the point where I thought the fights would become more serious, Dean Moore walked into the middle of the two groups of students. I am sure that he probably said something to at least the Wabash side of the fracas; however, I don’t recall ever seeing him say anything or hearing him. Nonetheless, the Wabash side calmed down. Of course, he is Dean of Students with the power to boot you if you got out of line again, but more importantly, his presence seemed to quell the DePauw students as well. To me, it appeared that he had just walked over there, stood in the middle of the two fighting groups, folded his arms across his chest, and that had ended the potential for scuffle. Other administrators, security personnel had intervened prior to his arrival, but the scuffles always started again. Dean Moore simply walked over there without apparently whispering a word, and it ended without return.

My third lasting memory of Dean Moore involves two phone calls and a chance meeting. I had heard about the “Dean Moore Fund.” I am not sure that I ever heard it called the “pinball” fund, but I somehow knew that he occasionally loaned a student money for some needy purpose. I had found myself overseas for a semester at Oxford University during the spring semester of my junior year. While at Wabash, I received enough financial aid and scholarship money to pay for my college tuition, books, and fees. Generally, I paid my housing expenses through a student loan and from what money I had saved through working summer jobs. Going to Oxford was, on paper, actually cheaper than going to Wabash for a semester, and somehow the money transferred with enough left over to buy my flight. Once I got to Oxford however, I found two things to be true: 1.) despite the record low value of the English pound, what dollars I had left with could not keep up with a hearty Wabash man’s appetite for food, pints, and trips, and 2.) everyone else on my program had an incredible amounts of disposable cash than I did. By March, I was nearly broke with two more months of school left. My parents couldn’t, or wouldn’t send me more money. I could not get a job since I did not have a work visa, and staying in every night and studying seemed to be a perfectly good waste of my time there. So, I called Dean Moore.

I can’t recall the amount, but it seems like he sent me, without the least bit of a question, one thousand dollars. It could have been only $500, but it seemed like millions to a broke student far from home. Unfortunately, whatever the amount was, it spent like pennies, and in less than a month, I was out of money again. Once more, I called Dean Moore. This time, the response was more reluctant. He made it very clear that this would be the last loan, and I was to repay the entire balance upon the first day back at Wabash in the fall. I understood and never questioned whether he was serious. Unfortunately, it was still not enough to get me to the end of the semester. I had to finish my classes early, and I used, literally, my last dollar to get a plane ride home in April.

By returning early however, I was able to get a better job for the summer. I went to see Dean Moore to make sure of the balance. I felt bad about having to borrow from him twice, and I told him that I would repay him as soon as I returned to campus in the fall. The harsh tone that had greeted me on my second call to him from England was gone. Instead, this almost grandfatherly voice replied, “I know you will.”

When I returned that fall, I walked over to his office. He wasn’t in, but I left a check for the entire balance. Nothing more was ever said about it.
To me, he had been a lifesaver. I had never known anyone to loan money like that. In the neighborhood where I grew up, the only people who loaned money were people in long Cadillacs with short pistols. And you didn’t want to owe them. The money that Dean Moore loaned me had allowed me to continue my “education” in Oxford. That was, and remains, priceless to me. Yet, when I mentioned to him during my senior-year meeting how much I appreciated his loan, he acted as if he almost didn’t know what I was talking about. How could he have not remembered? The loan had only occurred the year before! It was for over a thousand dollars! Today, that doesn’t seem like much money, and frankly, it probably was not much to him, or the fund, in 1985. I later deducted that he had probably not remembered because I was not such a rare case. My guess is that he had helped many Wabash students in their time of need. I was just one of many.

The same cannot be said of Dean Moore. I realize that each college, each student, each administration probably has its own Dean Moore. I am just not sure that those “Dean Moores” could have ever had had the impact on a student as the Dean Moore had on a young, naïve, red-neck kid in the mid 1980s. I am truly sorry that he is no longer with us. Yet, I will always be grateful for the opportunity to have known him and be with him.
-Tim Oakes ’86

From: Jim McDaniel ’74
Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2002

This is a sad note. Dean Moore was a fine gentleman, and Some Little Giant! A quick anecdote.

WNDY jocks were from time to time known to partake of the heathen devil weed. As GM of the station at the time, I had a very strict rule that such could not be done within the studios, since it would jeopardize our standing with the FCC if caught. So many a toke was taken on the steps from the basement on the north side of Yandes (now Detchon) while a long cut was playing on the turntables.
One night (well, probably 3AM, truth be known), several of us were huddled there passing a joint, when Dean Moore walked through the studios and out the door into our little gathering. Quoth Moore, "This isn't a very good place to be dealin', men." Quoth I (after I hope a short stunned silence), "We're not dealing...just smoking." Dean Moore relit his pipe and strolled on. None of us heard another word about the incident.

I think one of the indicators of Dean Moore's brilliance in the role was that even as the times became less civil, in the late 60s and early 70s, he remained a stable leader and reasoned disciplinarian. It's much easier to be a gentleman when others around you are, but as the campus environment deteriorated around the country, Wabash was one of the few places where the leadership of the college (Norman Moore and Thaddeus Seymour) held the campus with reins just loose enough to prevent trouble. Those who came to campus during those years inclined not to be gentlemen were often gentled by this approach, where other campuses were exploding because of either no control or too much control.
I've often said that if I can be half the father my father was to me, I'll be a successful man. By the same token, if any Wabash Man can be half the dean Norman Moore was to him when he was on campus, he will be a successful dean.

P.S. I recall a comic strip someone was drawing, probably in the 60's, but I saw copies in the 70's, which featured life at Wabash. A little better drawn, to my recollection, than the current "Cartooning 101" in the Bachelor. Dean Moore's name in the comic strip was "No-Man See More". Quite appropriate.

From: Mark Vincent ’87
Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2002

I got the message today about Dean Moore; I was sorry to hear of his passing. I have very fond memories of him. He was one of those colorful and unique individuals one never forgets. I have two very clear memories of him. Like many students, I secured a loan from him... though by the time you and I arrived at Wabash, these loans had simply become known (at least to some people on campus) as "Dean Moore Loans." The other memory I have is of Dean Moore breaking up a "fraternity war." This was a middle of the night fracas between the Betas and Phi Psis, complete with countless eggs and bottle rockets. In fact, just about everything that could be heaved across the street seemed to be in mid-air. Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly noticed that Dean Moore was walking toward us, about a block away, casually strolling down the middle of Wabash Avenue. His chosen method of stopping us was to simply walk down the street between the houses, telling everyone it was now time to go back inside. And we did. No mention of penalties, fines, or consequences.
Oh, and I remember those cigars, the tweed jackets, and the ever present flat cap... Dean Moore was truly respected and revered by Wabash students. I'm glad I got to know him.

From: Morrie Adams ’66
Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2002
I have two favorite stories about Dean Moore.
The first concerns my roommate of three years, Dave Whaley '65. At the end of his freshman year, Dave happened to tell Professor Richard Strawn of the French Department that he would be unable to return for his sophomore year because he had run out of money. A few days later, Dean Moore called Dave into his office to tell him that he would have a full tuition scholarship to Wabash and to forget any conversation about transferring to IU. Dave, of course, graduated from Wabash and went on to get a Masters in theater arts at UCLA. He is now semi-retired and living in California.

The second concerns Nick Nizamoff '64. During the great water fight in May of '64, Nick forgot to exercise some modicum of discretion and tackled Dean Moore. The Dean promptly told Nick to be in his office the next morning. Nick had visions of his graduation flying out the window. Later in the evening, Dean Moore told Nick to forget reporting to him the next day. Norm understood the evening was all in fun, and he tacitly understood Nick's youthful indiscretion.
To many of us of our generation Dean Moore epitomized what a dean of students should be. He understood that the school existed for the students. Sometimes it seems that some college administrators forget that simple fact. The really sad thing about Norm Moore is the fact that his latter years were spent as the victim of a massive stroke. He was confined to a wheelchair and had great difficulty communicating with others. He deserved a happier life than his turned out.
If Dean Moore was your dean of students when you were at Wabash, chances are that you loved him, even if he was forced to discipline you for a youthful indiscretion.

Rest In Peace, Norm. We have and will miss you.

From: Duane Hile ’67
Date: Thu, 17 Jan 2002

Between Norman Moore, Pres. Trippett and several outstanding faculty members (e.g, Ben Rogge, Butch Shearer, Steve Kurtz, and several others) the tone of the campus in the late 50s and most of the 60s was indeed a gentleman's school.
Everyone, including faculty members, knew what was expected and they acted accordingly. There were no public attacks (e.g, faculty attacking students with campus wide e-mail) such as those we see today. Page's example of how Dean Moore handled indiscretions and reinforced gentlemanly conduct can be multipled by hundreds—we all experienced and learned from his excellent leadership.

We have not only lost a great dean and gentleman, but we have lost decency. Let's hope the current deans, who had the benefit of Dean Moore's approach, can help us regain some of that civility.


From: Ron Bartlow
Date: 17 Jan 2002

When Wabash men of the appropriate era get together they exchange Dean Moore stories. Hopefully you will hear from first hand sources the tales of; Dean Moore and the fight at DPU, the drenching of Dean Moore by a student, the conversation between Dean Moore and a DPU administrator about Wabash reaction to a hypothetical Wabash/DePauw pregnancy, and the Dean’s response to the DePauw request that he rescue their Tiger suit.

In the case of the Tiger suit the fraternity with it in their custody changed their plans and returned it before the game instead of bringing it on to the field at half time hanging from a pole like a dead Tiger.

A number of Wallys on the Wally-L have reported occasions when Dean Moore delivered a needed boot in the posterior.

In 1961 one of the Morris Hall dorm counselors became disgruntled when forced to disconnect wires he had running about the outside of the dorm and his classwork suffered. It was not long before Dean Moore appeared at his door.
In the fall of ’60 while working in the came room I became weak and faint. I had to close up early and go to my dorm room. The next day (Sat.) after the dorm counselor looked in on me, the Dean came by. He took me to the infirmary where I spent the night and was seen by the campus DR. Sun. morning Dean Moore came by and told me I was anemic and should probably be hospitalized to find out why. He gave me the choice of doing it in C-ville or returning home. When I decided to go home, he called my parents and got them to come down that day and take me home. (It turned out I had a bleeding ulcer and needed four units of blood.)

In the spring of ’65 I owed the college $600 and my parents asked me to arrange payments. I went to see the Dean. He asked what I wanted and I told him I needed a loan. His first reaction was to ask how much and reach for his wallet. (When I told him $600, he referred me to the business office.)

From: Jay Fisher
Date: Thursday, January 17, 2002
Two reminiscences stand among a goodly number;

1. It was the spring of 1965 and the natives along Wabash Ave were celebrating a Friday afternoon after classes and a kegger along Wabash Avenue. Those years, the Delt and Phi Psi house were on one side and the Sigs, Betas, and Tekes the opposite. It was decided by the body politic that a water fight between "teams" representing their respective sides of the street was in order, although any alliance at that time between Sigs and Betas was always suspect and neither of those two could be trusted by the Tekes. Soon weapons escalated from balloons to buckets and from Rhyne surrogates to everyone, and the team competition gave way to the fun of dousing every car going to and from the shift change at Donnelly. Then the fire hydrants were opened. As always seemed to occur when fun such as this was being had, C-ville's finest showed up with no sense of humor regarding either the car washing or the street watering. Seriously outnumbered and several beers behind, C-ville's finest were watered down and their squad car washed on the inside.

It was at this time—a few nanoseconds before the Townie Enforcers uncradled their version of Gatling guns—that Dean Moore entered the scene, slowly walking down the center of the street saying "Gentlemen ... it is time to go home." I was in the Delt front yard with a goodly number of others, including Nick Nizamoff. It was decided that on the count of three all of us would rush Dean Moore and douse him. On the count of three, all of us except Nick chickened out and stood there. Nick did not get the word. Nick charged alone and dumped his load of water on the Dean. Dean Moore grabbed Nick and placed the larger man on the ground, saying "Mister Nizamoff. I will see you in my office tomorrow morning." With that, all of us "gentlemen" quietly went home and the constables closed off the hydrants, mounted their soggy vehicle and went wherever very wet policemen go. Nick suffered the next few hours with his scholastic and future life passing in front of him until, later that evening, very quietly, Dean Moore let Nick know no meeting was required and all was forgiven.

2. My brother is ten years younger than I and also attended Wabash. Freshman Sunday came and on that Sunday evening (for reasons I cannot understand, not having the same urges) my brother chose to go to the library. He was returning to the Phi Psi house with several books, when out of the shadows clad in "cat hat", scarf, and lighted pipe stepped Dean Moore. He said to my brother: "You are Jeff Fisher aren't you?" To this, my brother, a Rhyne of all of ten hours, responded timidly "yes". The Dean then said "Brother of Jay Fisher, is that right?" Again a timid "yes". "Well then" says the Dean. "I am going to call you little Fisher". And this he did for quite some time; my brother believing that either I had really done something or else 'Dean Moore knows all'. The answer, of course, is/was 'Dean Moore knows all.' It was only years later that Dean Moore let me in on the secret ... he studied the names, faces, and background of all incoming Freshmen in order that he could converse with them with familiarity upon first casual meeting (and perhaps begin the myth of total knowledge and total sight which served Dean Moore so well).

From: John Holt
Subject: Re: Services for Dean Norman Moore
In my two years at Wabash, I only visited Dean Moore's office once. I knew him better from the Scarlet Inn and from encounters around campus. I have met more than my share of deans since then, but Dean Moore remains my benchmark, both as dean and as gentleman.

Return to the table of contents