thing, who had been in the sheep business, and who began his pre-med at Weber when he was in his 40's! I have been practicing those problems at this late date. Amazing! Those basics never change. I should have had an Engelder even if I had to steal one. I mention some of this stuff just to point out that I probably would not have made it in a "big" school, but at Weber the teachers knew I really wanted to learn those subjects. They would drill me on the blackboard. The lectures were personal, and we could ask questions. The lab assistants were sympathetic - we were all in the same boat. I must say that I was surprised that all my credits were accepted in Graduate School in Berkeley, but I had to take a course labeled "Physical Chem. for Biology Majors." I was comforted when I found that the text at Cal. centered on the same stuff I had learned in "Stubby" Gray's class! By the way, the Principles of Chem. texts we used at Weber College were written by Joel Hildebrand and Bray and Latimer, famous teachers at U of Cal. Hildebrand was still teaching when I was there. He was in his late eighties. Some of the other Weber teachers who fired me up, taught me well, and were patient with my limitations. Most of them were local people who were glad to have a job, and I think they liked being teachers at Weber College. Mr. Benson, psychology, was a musty old codger, but I liked him and did well in his classes. My workbook was always up-to-date because I had a real curiosity about the subjects. I was surprised, though, that some of the good students, quite often the girls, would borrow my workbook and then lend it to their friends. I was flattered, of course, but I was puzzled that those girls could get an A on their books while I got maybe a B-. Maybe it was just my bad penmanship. Dr. Miner, botany, very popular, had some of the very best students. I had no classes from him, but I could see that he was a dedicated teacher. It was a compliment to me that he asked me to do a couple of projects for him while I was lab assistant for Dr. Anderson. Dr. Lind, geology, I remember him, with his leather puttees and cane, though he retired while I was at the college. I never had any geology, but everything about him was an inspiration. His vast knowledge from actual contact with the formations that he shared with his students made him one of the most famous and popular professors of the time. In the lab Dr. Dean Anderson, bacteriology. I was a good student in bacteriology, my major, but I never owned a bacteriology book until after I was married and working. His lectures were good, and the labs were among my favorite classes. I became his assistant during the last half of my second year. His classes were the ones that I got an A in! In a "Special Problems" class (sort of undergraduate research), I was permitted to use white rats, into which I injected staph cultures that I had isolated from different sources, so that I could have actual experience with Kock's Postulates. While preparing an infected rat for dissection, I was anesthetizing it with ether soaked in cotton stuffed into a soup can. The animal began to struggle. I reached up with my index finger to restrain it when it bit me. Clamping its long yellow teeth into my finger, it died! I had to pry its jaw open to get it off my finger. I didn't dare tell anyone. I just quietly waited for signs of blood poisoning to show up. Luckily it never happened, and you are among the first to know about my brush with disaster and disgrace as a bacteriologist. Later I got into the newspaper because of my rats. A reporter who came to see me asked about my rats: "Were any of them missing?" I said, "No." Besides I had "sacrificed" all my rats weeks before. Well, it seems that someone had stuffed an infant's body into a garbage can in the park across the street, and white mice had been living under the can. Naturally the reporter figured the mice belonged to someone at the college. I don't remember if the mystery was ever solved. Orson Whitney Young, zoology, comparative anatomy, and cat anatomy. Each morning "Ors" greeted us at the door with a handshake. "Good morning, Mr. Collins, Mr. Savage, Miss Ban-ett etc. Sometimes he would say "Brother" instead of "Mr." His free-hand blackboard drawings were beautiful. That stimulated us to strive for perfection too. I was never good at drawing, but he assured us that he graded us on "adequate representation and accurate labeling, not art." I looked through my work a few years ago - the drawings were not as bad as I remembered them, but I didn't have the work of some good students with me for comparison. Some of those students must have had wonderful talent because I felt bad most of the time. We had good-sized classes. Most of the students were pre-meds, and Dr. Young's classes were required, so Ors had a highly motivated group to teach. He stimulated us to achieve with stories of his own struggles to finish his Ph.D. - ten years I think it was. He often invited local doctors to speak to us - as though we 14 were actually med students. I remember Dr. Rich's lectures on rheumatic fever patients - young people usually with the tell-tale nose bleed and leg pains often referred to as "growing pains" by parents who were not properly impressed with the need for long periods of bed rest so essential to a cure in those days before permanent damage incapacitated the child for life. I can still see his pained face as he told us stories of parents who broke the bedrest regime at times so the child could be in a school play or some other important event. We were filled with great desire to become doctors and felt privileged to be in Ors's class. This devotion to our studies caused us to try to act "professional" in cat anatomy lab. We had been assigned to "obtain a mature cat," which we put onto the lab's home-made gas chamber until it was dead; then we bled and "embalmed" it in Formalin. I don't remember how we kept the cats "fresh" over the weekends and between lab periods. But during the quarter we dissected them systematically - circulatory system, muscle and tendon connections, the digestive system, the skeleton, etc., making properly labeled sketches of everything. I'll never forget the sight of our only girl student alone at the gas chamber (she wanted to prove that she could "take it like a man") removing what turned out to be a cat and four still-breathing kittens! To convince ourselves that dissection was not all that bad, each lab day we sent someone to (what was the name of that just-off-campus snack-bar establishment?) with money to buy our favorite snack food to eat in the lab. This was to prove that we were oblivious to the smelly and macabre collection of dismembered cats. It seems to me that the cat class came in spring quarter. There were days when the smell of spring and the sight of couples lounging around on the shady lawns just outside the lab windows completely overcame our young doctor instincts. One day in early June we persuaded Ors to accompany us on a hike up Waterfall Canyon. The only detail of that excursion into debauchery I can recall was the sight of naked "doctors" cooling themselves in the icy spring run-off at the head of the canyon. Some one took movies, but I never saw them. (Wouldn't it be odd if someone would have the bad taste to submit them to Emeriti Council's memorabilia committee?) In spite of all this, some good doctors came out of Ors's classes - Grant Way, Ray Burdett - they were not in my class, but I remember them as good students; then there was Johnny Wedell -1 knew him very well. I have him remembered in another place in these memoirs of the class of '37. David Trevithick, creative writing. One of the reasons that I encourage students to study pre-med when they don't know what Lab paraphernalia to major in is that pre-med requires a well-rounded undergraduate introduction to college courses - science, math, language, social science, and English composition. After all, doctors should be good human beings as well as good physicians. I took Dave's class because something about the non-technical sound of the course title attracted me. I liked to write if someone required me to "get with it." Mr. Trevithick was my kind of guy. His clothes impressed me - good tweed jacket with coordinated color and textured slacks pressed razor sharp with just a slight break at the instep of his perfectly polished brown oxfords with wing tips and leather heels. I enjoyed the crisp sound of his heels as he sort of strolled along the halls. Coordinated shirt, tie, and pocket handkerchief completed the image. I can still see "Mr. Terrific" - tall, swarthy, wavy-haired ex-coal miner. But his personality, teaching style, and familiarity with all kinds of literature were also part of my perception of a masculine professor of a genteel subject. I liked him very much and was stimulated by his instruction and did the assignments he gave us with enthusiasm. Of course, any good professor of English would see to it that his students could write interesting paragraphs full of properly punctuated complete sentences of correctly spelled words! Mr. Trevithick would read our compositions and indicate imperfections with bold symbols and "creative" comments. We were then required to make corrections and where possible make reference to the rule involved - that, evidently, we may not have perfectly understood. Patiently he tried to teach me all the technical aspects of a good composition; at the same time he tried to encourage any spark of creativity that occasionally showed up in my work. So, when he graded my papers he wrote the grade as a fraction, example: A/C. The C referred to spelling, punctuation, etc. while the A referred to "composition." I was proud of those marks - unique evidence of a teacher who likes to teach, a quality I found in most Weber College teachers in those days. One day when my paper was returned, there were some incomplete sentences and other evidences of a weak understanding of the rules, but the composition had in it a "character" at my dad's workplace. He used many incomplete sentences and colorful expressions that I tried to use in my composition. So when I returned my "corrected" paper to Mr. Trevithick, I had written a note saying something like "But this is the way this guy talks! I wanted it that way." Mr. Trevithick ambled toward my desk -leather heels announcing a certain deliberateness in his advance. I looked up from my work and accepted the folded composition 15