A Knockout
Your just published journal [WM Winter 2013] is a knockout in tone and capturing the tradition of Wabash without getting maudlin or hackneyed.Congratulations for a sterling product.
It could be that I am prejudiced. Many of the professors cited in your magazine —Petty, Johnson, Cole, Charles, Baker, Rogge, Peebles, Harvey, Henry, Mitchum, Strawn, O’Rourke, and Salter—taught me and held me accountable. And, of course, Trippet was president during my four years, 1957–1961.
I am sure every graduate of Wabash reflects on his four years as the golden era of the College. When I read this issue, I sure do, and no one can convince me otherwise.
—Tim Conlon ’61, Bend, OR
“Utterly Without Guile”
The picture of Bill Placher on the cover [of WM Winter 2013] was a wonderful memory prod for me, as I’m sure it
will be for all who were lucky enough
to meet him. The entire issue was marvelously evocative of very happy times.
I write to thank you and [Professor] Derek Nelson ’99 for the absolutely magical story “To Be Known Better Than You Know Yourself.” I have sent a copy to my own children, all either currently attending or graduates of small, liberal arts colleges, as well as my wife and brothers. I plan to send it to as many people as I can think of in the future.
I live in a state whose recently elected governor spent some time on Bill Bennett’s radio show lamenting taxpayer dollars wasted on the liberal arts at the large (partially) state-supported universities. Your article should be mandatory reading for those two worthies, as
well as for the many other educational troglodytes whose voices are increasingly heard in these parlous financial times.
Thank you very much for the magazine and particularly this article. I cannot remember the last time I was so moved by something.
Editor’s Note: Dr. Jaquiss sent the following note (excerpted below) to his family along with “To Be Known Better Than You Know Yourself”:
I think it would be worth your time to read this article. The professor referred to in the story was William “Bill” Placher, a professor from whom I took two philosophy classes. These were among the most popular classes at the College during my time there. The draw was Bill Placher, who was absolutely brilliant. He could not have possibly existed outside a college campus—too absentminded, too cerebral, too disorganized, too sincere, and utterly without guile. He was incredibly generous and completely devoted to making the often incomprehensibly dense philosophical underpinnings of modern Western thought accessible to Indiana farm boys.
The story recounted in the article may seem a bit apocryphal, but it is absolutely consistent with the man a generation of Wabash students knew and loved. As liberal arts colleges come under attack, it is worth remembering that some (many?) of them are made up of people like Bill Placher. All students should have the opportunity
to know someone like him.
—Jake Jaquiss ’82, Duke University Medical Center, Durham, NC
With Gratitude
I never would have completed Wabash if it weren’t for Dr. Placher. After my father died, Dr. Placher lent me money and even let me stay in his spare bedroom
for part of one summer. I owe him a large part of who I’ve become as a man.
—Scott Brannon ’01, Indianapolis, IN
The photo of Bill Placher brought back a memory that I’ll never forget.
With 10 minutes remaining of an hour-long lecture that he was obviously very passionate about, Professor Placher had written something on the chalkboard and was walking back toward the
students while still making his point.
He may have been glancing upward when he walked off that foot-high stage that his desk was on. He didn’t fall—he somersaulted right back onto his feet,
all the while keeping his stride and
his point.
I don’t think he ever realized he had done it, but he amazed all of us.
—Steve Pettinga ’79, Indianapolis, IN
The photograph of Bill Placher brought back wonderful memories of him as a student and colleague, although I was away the first year he taught. He was
my sabbatical replacement for the year because Eric Dean had discovered that Yale PhD students could get some credit for teaching a year in the middle of their program and called Bill back to Wabash.
After that year, Eric wrote for Bill’s file a wonderful letter of recommendation, concluding with the statement that, if Bill decided he wanted to teach undergraduates, we would want to bring him back to Wabash. Eric called him back
as soon as he finished his doctorate.
During the years I chaired the Philosophy and Religion Department,
I thought that my greatest contribution to Wabash College would be to keep
Bill Placher happy and here!
—Raymond Williams H’68, LaFollette Professor Emeritus of the Humanities
“The Old Guys”
Professor Jack Charles [pictured in WM Winter 2013] taught me history in 1954. I have never ceased being grateful to him as I have explored the historical treasures of the world.
He was a stickler on the chronology
of events—if you didn’t know when and why it happened, how would you ever remember it? I will never forget him
nibbling his chalk when he was especially engrossed in the subject.
—George Heiland ’57, Phoenix, AZ
Dillinger Day
Ian Grant ’13 was the co-editor of WM Winter 2013, and in that edition he asked alumni to tell him the stories behind the photos we published there. So many responded that we are beginning a new feature, “The Story Behind the Photo,” in the Fall 2013 issue of WM. Here’s the sort of story you’ll find there:
Imagine my surprise when I opened my latest issue of Wabash Magazine and found myself prominently displayed on page 54 “abducting” Dean Norman Moore.
Here is the story behind that photo:
During the late ’70s, the Tekes did a community service project called “Dillinger Day,” and this is a scene from the inaugural one in 1978. We made arrangements with prominent members of the Crawfordsville and Wabash communities prior to the event; we would “kidnap” them and hold them for a ransom of canned goods to be donated to FISH, a local community organization that ran a food bank.
We dressed as 1930s gangsters and borrowed a 1935 Ford coupe from a local auto repairman. Among the people whom we abducted that day were Mayor Glenn Knecht and President Lewis Salter.
We abducted Dean Moore and Professor Bob Henry on the Mall in front of the Chapel. I’m the guy who has Dean Moore’s right arm; Ray Mitsch ’80 has his other arm. (Clark Thorne ’81 is partially obscured behind Dean Moore).
As we loaded Dean Moore and Professor Henry into the back of the car, we were met by other Tekes dressed as police officers, and we held a “shootout” with them (armed with cap guns) for the benefit of the photographer and
a Lafayette television crew that was recording the whole thing for the evening news. The photos ended up
on the front page of the Journal Review.
As I recall, we raised over $400 in canned goods that day—quite a haul
for the 1970s.
—Ken Williams ’80, Valparaiso, IN
Arch Lore
I read with pleasure the latest WM. Unfortunately, most of the pictures are well before my time, but I can definitely confirm that there used to be a wall between Goodrich and Sparks. The wall was taken down about 10 years ago when Goodrich was rebuilt during
my time.
When I was a student, there was a tradition that students should never walk under the arch in that wall. They would always use one of the doorways instead. I was told that students didn’t walk through the arch because one winter ice had built up
on the carriage lamp until one day it came crashing down, killing a student.
Of course the story is a work of fiction, but it was popular with the guys who gave campus tours.
—Jonathan Galliher ’04, Chicago, IL
Volleyball Not on the Mall
The “On the Mall” photograph in the WM Winter 2013 appears actually to have been from the early 1990s (rather than 1980s). The two individuals on the left are Derek Tatman ’94 (white shirt) and Craig Stark ’94 (blue shirt), both fraternity brothers of mine at Lambda Chi Alpha.
—Damon Leichty ’94, South Bend, IN
Editor’s Note: And, as several readers pointed out, the game was not on the Mall, but in
the Lambda Chi’s side yard. As far as sports played on the Mall, Stan Vogel ’66, Topeka, KS, offered this one: “Byron Kemper ’65 and I used to shag flyballs on the Mall on summer evenings, until the groundskeeper ran us off—does too much damage to the lawn.”
From the Archives
I enjoyed WM Winter 2013 with its focus on archival photos.
On page 54, the three students in their room are Sean Sharma ’98 (now a family MD in Williamsport, IN; his partner, Kent Walters, is a visiting professor in biology
at Wabash); John Jefferson ’97 (now a contractor for the government working as a translator and intelligence expert after finishing his commission in the Army, where he was the 2007 Linguist
of the Year); and Mike Miller ’96 (who works as a chemist for Lilly, right now
in Ireland).
I spent a lot of time in that room, which was called “Northeast” in the Lambda Chi house.
—Jeremy Hartnett ’96, Associate Professor of Classics
A Sign for the Times
Here’s some detail and story to go with the photo of the DePauw sign reassembled on the Chapel steps.
That picture is from the fall of 1979. Herbert Marshall Greene ’80, then a junior and a presiding spirit in the Phi Psi house, came up with the inspired plan to “appropriate” the DePauw sign that stood along I-70.
During that time, many smaller, similarly shaped white signs, which were made of wood and served as directional markers all over the DePauw campus, were regular fixtures in Wabash rooms. Herb had the idea to get the mother of all DPU signs and to assemble it on the Chapel steps the morning of the Bell Game.
So, on Thursday night before the game, a good number of us from the Phi Psi house drove down to get the interstate sign. An earlier crew had been dispatched to loosen the sign from
its telephone pole-sized moorings.
Although the Phi Psi house maintained a pretty strict study table, we pledges were free that night to duck out a little early to participate.
The main memory I have of that night is—after an endless drive down countless country roads—helping to carry off the huge sections of the sign through what seemed to be an unending, dark Putnam County cornfield to the three waiting cars into which the signs were placed. Had our neighbor, Professor Hall Peebles of the religion department, been there, I am sure he would have drawn parallels to the Philistines spiriting away the Ark
of the Covenant.
The sign sat in the Great Hall of the Phi Psi house as its interim resting place before it was reassembled in the early hours Saturday morning on the Chapel steps for the game.
Your title says, “Now that’s ingenuity!” That was the genius of Herb, who later ingeniously talked his way out
of major consequences for himself and the house with Dean Moore, who equitably demanded that we pay the cost
of relocating and restoring the sign
to its original location.
Since it was Dean Moore’s request, needless to say, payment was prompt
and in full.
—John Van Nuys ’83, Crawfordsville, IN
I do not believe the fraternity paid any restitution for the damage to the sign, and here’s why: The sign theft was
in retaliation for the Dannies stealing the Monon Bell from Wabash earlier that fall. When the thieves tried to lower the bell, their rope broke and the Bell crashed to the floor, breaking the terrazzo floor and damaging the yoke around the Bell. The Bell was returned to Wabash in exchange for Greek composites which some Wabash guys had stolen from DePauw.
After we stole the sign, my memory is that DePauw sent a bill to Wabash for the cost to repair their sign.
In response, Dean Moore prepared a bill for DePauw to pay for damage to the Bell and the floor. He inflated the bill to $6,827.31, but then gave DePauw a professional discount of 88.81623%, leaving a total bill due of $763.55, which was exactly what DePauw was billing Wabash for the sign. I am not making these figures up. I was editor of The Bachelor that semester, and I still have a copy of the bill from Wabash to DePauw dated November 7, 1979.
—Mark McGrady ’81, Franklin, TN
Read more details of the great sign caper from Rev. Van Nuys’ fraternity brothers
at WM Online.
Reflecting on the adventurous activities during my undergraduate days, seeing the photo of the DPU sign on the Chapel steps evoked a profound sense of irony, knowing it was “relocated” from my farm property!
Some Little Giants!
—J.B. Michael ’69, Greencastle, IN
Caption Correction
What a great issue. I could not put it down.
However, the caption for the “Yester-day” picture on the back cover needs some cleaning up. It lists Stan Huntsman as quarterback, but the quarterback was actually my brother, Jerry. I am at the right-hand side playing halfback in my sophomore year, while Joe Dooley ’52 appears to be about to catch the ball from Jerry. Lew Jones is in the background. And an unidentified Little
Giant seems to be committing a holding
violation on the left side of the picture. The referee in the picture is Dick Tiernan from Richmond, IN.
—Stan Huntsman ’54, Austin, TX
Not One to Take Credit
While the College’s archives do contain a goodly number of photographs and movies that I took during my student years (1963–67), I can’t take credit for either of those pictures attributed to me in WM Winter 2013. When my father, Bob Henry, was imaging the February 1979 solar eclipse, I was viewing that event at the University of Iowa. The great classroom photo of Bob Harvey is familiar from my era but not from my negatives.
I suspect that the Harvey photo was taken by Dave Herkner ’64, who mentored me during my freshman year shooting for The Bachelor and Wabash yearbook. Another possibility would be Steve Wehrly ’65, who, along with Mike Curry ’67 and Doug Smith ’68, captured images for College publications.
—Dennis Henry ’67, Gustavus Adolphus College, St. Peter, MN
The Call to Moscow
Not all the stories inspired by the Winter edition were prompted by photos. Witness this tale of Wabash students in dogged (and expensive) pursuit of the truth at the dawn of the Space Age. Thanks to Len Loker ’59 for passing it along:
The very first artificial Earth satellite, Sputnik, was launched by the USSR in the fall of 1957, but a few months earlier, while I was treasurer of the Kappa Sigma fraternity, rumors were flying that it had already happened. A couple of my fraternity brothers must have heard the rumors on late-night TV and were inspired to find
out if the rumor was true.
Ernie Lewis ’58 decided to call the shoe-pounding Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev in Moscow and ask him directly.
This call to Moscow was a more far-out idea at that time than one might imagine today. The only telephone we had in the fraternity house was coin-operated. It was in a built-in phone booth in the foyer. With more than fifty college-age men calling girls for dates and calling home for money, it was heavily used during most times of day, but this call was made about
2 a.m. in Crawfordsville (day-time in Moscow).
Ernie used a nickel to call the operator and asked how much it would cost to phone Moscow. She was probably bored late
at night, intrigued by Ernie’s idea of calling Khrushchev, and did her best to accommodate him. However, Ernie had nowhere near the amount of pocket change the call would cost, even with the pooled resources of the handful of “brothers”who were in on the caper with him. That is where I got involved. Someone remembered that the treasurer’s safe had piles of dimes from the Coke machine and ran to the top-floor dorm to roust me out of bed.I was the only one who knew how to open the safe.
I was groggy from being roused from a sound sleep, but I got up and joined in Ernie’s project with many rolls of dimes from the safe. Incredibly, the operator managed to reach Khrushchev’s office and asked that the coins be deposited. Dime after dime poured into the telephone’s coin slot, each one ringing a little bell and falling into the coin box. The phone wouldn’t take the whole amount because the coin box filled up before even half the toll was paid. The cooperative operator agreed to charge the remainder to Ernie’s parents’ phone
in Lebanon, IN.
Ernie was connected to Nikita Khrushchev’s English-speaking secretary. He was told the premier would speak to them, but only in Russian. Ernie needed a Russian interpreter quick. It turns out we had a fraternity brother, Byron Walter, who was studying Russian, but he was a Crawfordsville “townie” who lived at home. The operator agreed to call him and patch him into the conversation with Moscow. However, Byron was not so amused at being awakened at 2:30 a.m., decided it was aprank call, and hung up on Ernie. At that point, I went back to bed and heard the rest of the story
the next morning.
Khrushchev wouldn’t talk, but Ernie had paid for a call to Moscow, and he wanted to know whether a satellite had been launched. Somehow the Crawfordsville operator, in talking with another operator in Moscow, discovered he could talk with the New York Times correspondent in Moscow. The connection was made and Ernie asked, “We’ve heard the rumor that Russia has launched an artificial satellite: Is that true?” The Times reporter replied, “We’ve heard the same rumor, but we, too, don’t know if it’s true.”
That ended the phone call, but there was an aftermath.
Another brother, Bill Brantley ’55, had landed a job working for the Crawfordsville daily newspaper. Bill wrote up the story of the call to Moscow and broadcast it over the Associated Press teletype. Ernie got phone calls from people all over the country, some of them from radio talk show hosts. He was a minor celebrity for a few days.
—Ron Stoner ’59, Bowling Green, OH, Forwarded by Len Loker
No Need for the Bulldog
Like most alumni I take interest in things that relate to me and my time at Wabash. I used to block for Dave Harvey and Ed Jones ’76 back in the last century, circa 1975, and I believe that either Toni Barrick ’80 bears an uncanny resemblance to how I remember Ed Jones ’76, or this caption is in error. Dave was the quarterback and Ed was an end.
If only Ed’s bulldog were in the photo I could be sure.
—Dana R. Kolter ’76, Louisville, KY
Editor’s Note: Several of your teammates contacted us about this, Dana, and all of them say you’re right: That’s Ed Jones with Dave. Don’t even need Ed’s bulldog to confirm it.
Wrong Dilley
In the photo and story on page 64 of WM Winter 2013, we got the wrong Jon Dilley. The student walking with Ethan Olberding ’99 and Jared Hall ’99 is Jonathan C. Dilley ’99 of Indianapolis, yet the biographical information we
provided was that of Jonathan O. Dilley ’03. Our apologies to both, and thanks to Jonathan O. for
letting us know.