The Class of 1954 strides onto campus, full of vigor and packed with a melange of memories and expectations. Always a breathtaking spectacle, the transition from winter to summer has bathed Dartmouth in verdant beauty. A 360-degree survey from the center of the Green reveals only the Hopkins Center as "new." More than one-third of those who matriculated in 1950 have returned, several for the first time in a half-century. As we gear up to lead the Class of 2004 to their graduation ceremony on Sunday, a natural topic of discussion is Then and Now.
Our days on campus were decidedly simpler times. "Ivy League," per se, had not yet become a term in use. War hero Dwight Eisenhower was in the White House. Author-in-residence Corey Ford mentored the establishment of rugby and came close to reinstituting wrestling as an active sport. Our freshman reading included Huxley's "Brave New World" and Budd Schulberg's "What Makes Sammy Run?" ROTC was active in several military branches and, even though the Korean conflict ended in late 1953, we all acknowledged our service obligations following graduation. The morphing of Mr. Wheelock's initial intentions to educate Early Americans into the "Indian" symbol was a great source of pride to us, the term "politically correct" not yet having been introduced to our respective consciousnesses. President John Dickey was the right man for our times -- tall, craggy and an adept extension of his illustrious predecessors, Tucker and Hopkins. For those of us who spent a bit of time in the large ward at Dick's House, no image was more memorable that John Sloan appearing in the doorway, his hunting jacket dusted with snow and bellowing: "Men of Dartmouth!" Intramural sports involved a high percentage of us in friendly competition. And we reveled in the special Dartmouth image we carried to women's colleges within driving distance in search of the warmth of companionship. Our experiences in Hanover were likely not dramatically different from those of the Class of 1904.
The essence of Dartmouth is often captured in well-crafted quotes. Two come to mind: (1) Retired history professor Jere Daniell '55: "A liberal arts education teaches one to take advantage of the opportunities provided by luck;" and (2) Classmate David Mandelbaum '54: "Some of my best Dartmouth friends are those whom I met after graduation." The dynamics of our last 50 years reflect these observations. The "luck" we have encountered in life, much like an intercepted pass, had been run back for career touchdowns because of the capacities infused in us by all that was Dartmouth in the early 50s. The uniqueness of our educational and social preparation for responsible adulthood is what makes it so easy to lapse into easy new friendships with Classmates previously not known. This will be a recurring event during this celebratory weekend.
Now -- the differences. Today's Dartmouth certainly resembles the College of yesteryear in terms of "place," albeit architecturally modernized by the beneficence of generous alumni and the guidance of Lo-Yi Chan '54. The necessary and logical "progress" into a broadened curriculum and campus life regimen, however, has met with a range of reactions from the Class of 1954. To a degree, we often confuse fond memories with what we regard as tradition. As a result, we object to changing the words to "Men of Dartmouth," the elimination of the Indian symbol, the admission of women and the ever-present threat of Dartmouth University becoming a reality. Some feel strongly enough to withhold financial support, flood e-mails with contrary thoughts and to ask that they be classified as Not Interested. Balancing this grumpiness is the secret pride in the success of women's teams (particularly with daughters and granddaughters wearing green), the tacit admission that strong graduate programs make us university-like in prominence while still adhering to the structure of a college and a grudging acknowledgment that today's life does, indeed involve subject matter foreign to our aging sensibilities. "Sexual preference" is not in our lexicon and we are baffled at the need for administrative intrusion into student life, but, in sum, we shall continue to toast the College on the Hill in our primitive Alcazars, warmed by an abiding love of Dartmouth.
