ea SS) pach eee Sa “W” hike becomes ae tradition landing where we recovered a large section of the pipe comprising the base of the original flagpole and also several pieces of cement from the base. Unfortunately, the concrete had shattered in the impact of the fall and while we could see very clearly the outlines of an old glass mason fruit jar which had been used as a container for the names of the original hikers, the parchment upon which their names had been written in India ink was lost forever. A large section of the flagpole base and several pieces of the concrete were returned to the campus and are currently displayed in the Rich Memo- EE twenty had become my wife. All returning now from both sides of the veil for one last curtain call. Once more I heard the refrain from “The Vagabond King,” directed by my father and Roland Parry: “Forward, forward, swords against the foe, onward, onward, the lily banners go. Rend the chains that bind us. . . and to hell with Burgundy!” Such words had sounded delightfully devilish to my then callow ears. Again I was reliving James M. Barrie’s “Dear Brutus,” starring my father as Dearth and twelve-year-old sister Joan as his daughter Margaret. As a tende;-nearted spectator, age six, i found the emotional trauma occasioned by their separation too much to bear. When Dearth vanishes into the waiting woods, failing to return, Margaret rushes weeping in search of him. “Daddy, come back; I don’t want to be a might-have-been.” Too much! I also begin to weep, literally blubbered, and was compelled to make a swift exit of my own to spare the audience. Waiting there upon an empty stage in an empty building, I felt it all returning. Expectantly, I glanced about looking for those furnishings that regularly disappeared from our home various other missing items at opening night on the Moench stage. Standing there alone, yet not alone, I remembered long hours nailing canvas flats, and the scenery meticulously rendered by artist B.Y. Andelin—simulated shelves full of books, door frames, windows with trees, sky, a yellow quarter moon, and the mountains beyond. I recalled student assezablies in later years—the celebrated Lawrence Burton/Dean Hurst Comedy Act, comedian Don Solberg of ever malleable countenance, skits and songs by the girls of LaDianaeda and Otyokwa, and a barbaric parody of “Hamlet,” discourtesy of the Phoenix Fraternity, long vanished into ashes, of which I was a member. Among the cast were Jerry Nilsson, Dee Jacobs, “Yours Truly” as off-stage narrator, and Cheerleader Neil Hess starring as a wild-eyed and incredibly gymnastic Hamlet: “TB or not TB... . that is congestion.” A portentous pause forth. Once my bed itself vanished, only to magically reappear along with followed by the passionate inquiry: “Consumption be done about it???” Then departing even further from poor Shakespeare’s original: “Of coffee can, of coffee can!” Horrible! But it nearly “rolled ‘em in the aisles” if anything ever did. Departing that small, yet remarka- bly bounteous stage for the last time, I glanced back at its velvet curtains, the deep, almost sepulchral blue, unfurling their own mysterious universe. Drapes of that same material covered windows at the back of the auditorium, emitting mere slits from the reclining day. The ae H. Aldous Dixon: Pres. for nearly two decades H. Aldous Dixon taught at Weber Academy and served twice as president of the college, from 1919 to 1920 and again from 1937 to 1953. presided over the college during World War II when enrollments dropped drastically as men entered the armed service. Despite the lack of students the school became nationally recog- nized for technical education and for war-related efforts. Pres. Dixon oversaw the beginnings of the new Harrison Blvd. campus and made the initial move to the present college site. Enrollment more than tripled at Weber College in the post-war era, and it was during Pres. Dixon’s administration that the Alumni Association was first organized. Hi broad stairs spanning the stage creaked in my descent, echoing with a soft, undeniable endlessness. The dark, wooden seats waited expectantly, anonymous, but somehow highly personal as though ready to speak. I was all alone, yet part of a remarkable gathering, surrounded, in the words of De La Mare, “by a host of phantom listeners.” Overhead the ceiling was beginning to slump in places, the outer — Carol (Barker) Hadley, 1952 _ studentbody vice president, Pres. H. Aldous Dixon and student body president Fred Ball (1 to r) break ground for the new Harrison Blvd. campus. wrecker’s ball. Milestones " Pres. Dixon visits with students outside the Moench Building. The Moench Building was torn down in 1977, but the college gymnasium, which was converted to the Deseret Gym, still stands. *May 193, Sept. 29, 1937 eJan. 6, 1939 eMay 9, 1947 H. Aldous Dixon becomes president. First edition of Signpost published. Vocational Arts Building dedicated. 175 acres of east bench property purchased for new eMarch 5, 1952 campus : 4 Pres. Dixon was. known for his personal interest in and concern for students. During his 16-year second term he eT pigeons. The following day the Old Moench began to collapse and soon buried itself with the aid of a be gone, along with chairs, wall paintings, a little brass lamp that I half in the other. It was, ironically, from that upraised hand that the light shone ee soft, persistent brooding of many rehearsals were ending. Another play was about to open, and in consequence our living room couch would probably fancied had belonged to Aladdin, and an even greater favorite modeled after a soldier from World War I—rifle and bayonet in one hand, a raised grenade eee elements having soaked their way through. From just above came the as a signal that the long, late-night sor ee was a flaming “W” blazing out of control. A substantial bill for costs incurred in extinguishing the blaze was duly presented to the college administration and the flaming ““W” tradition, as far as actual flames were concerned, was doused. There is a story behind this story, over the face of the cliff to the first i ae Malan’s Heights are rock crowned and relatively bare of vegetation which had long since been exhausted as far as a source of firewood for the fire at the peak. Planners of the hike that year engaged Dick Farr, a student who had been a former bomber pilot, to make an air drop of straw and gasoline for the display. The problem was that Just about that # ena realized that what I was witnessing Wildcat”, in flames. ae rhe rhe time, I heard the wail of a siren and was a crashing success—literally! the flaming “W” by outlining the face of ‘a newly created mascot, “Waldo the ie oy ST hike were a tradition; but apparently as the novelty wore off and actual participants decreased, students chose to shorten the distance by hiking only to Malan’s Peak where a large bonfire was built and the event became known as the “Flaming’W’ Hike”. I can recall as a youth during the 30’s observing the huge fire on the peak that could be seen all over the city. By 1946, with all the returning servicemen, the “Flaming ~W’ Hike” rial Lounge of the Dee Events Center. The Forestry Service permitted and assisted in the placing of a permanent plaque on the mountain recalling the incident. Rie Sacegreeee “jerry” cans of gasoline were smashed all over the side of the mountain but none reached the peak. If memory served me right, I think we ended up using colored fusees that year which still worked pretty well. With the move to the new campus in the early 50’s, the “Flaming ~W’ Hike” was modified from a hike to the display of a huge “W” on the mountainside east of the campus. Then a mishap occurred which considerably altered the tradition. During the lighting of the “W”, in the mid ~60’s, the flames crept over the outlines of the “W” and ignited the entire hillside. I remember watching at the time and not being aware of the actual circumstances, thinking how clever it was that the planners of the activity had added a new dimension to however, that is equally interesting. Shortly after my arrival on the campus in 1967, I received an anonymous phone call from an employee of the Forestry Service office in Ogden who told me that a flagpole erected by the college many years previously had been removed by the department in compliance with a law that forbade any such protuberance without appropriate authorization. Not being aware of the history or background, the pole and its concrete base were torn down and thrown over the cliff on the east edge of the peak. Several alumni, including Russell Croft, a member of the college foundation and former Forestry Service employee, were able to climb down os eae Spee dier and several bales of straw and pee the colors, singing “Purple and White”, and other activities associated with the Dick had been a pilot not a bombar- sg elie The 1922 Mount Ogden hike by the Associated Students of Weber Academy for the purpose of erecting a flagpole upon which future hikes would display the national and school colors had been a highlight of the waning years of the academy before high school classes were dropped in 1923, For several years following the installation of the flagpole, a hike to Mount Ogden’s peak for the display of oe by Dean W. Hurst Class of 1946 ae Fe Aciniseeta eart Flaming site. Ground broken for current campus location. ie ee