from him. Looking me straight in the eye, he said, "Mr. Collins, if you have some notion to be a writer, don't go to college; go away on a ship!" Then he ambled back to his desk. I have wondered at times if I may have contributed to his giving up teaching to become postmaster of Salt Lake City. My two years at Weber evidently were not entirely wasted because I was able to graduate from BYU while working, batching, and with a minimum of the required texts. I never owned a slide rule or a bacteriology text until after a year at Berkeley as a grad student. My wife finally bought me one of each for Christmas. Many of the students in the class of '37 at Weber were trying to get an education in spite of limited funds and in spite of not very promising futures because of the Depression. There were some interesting examples. I would like to mention Johnny Wedell. He was a pre-med student who worked his way through Weber as a "call boy." That's not the opposite of "call girl." His job was to ride his bike and to personally knock on the doors of freight train crewmen to call them to appear at the time the railroad station set for the "made-up" train to "make its run." So Johnny's hours were anything but reasonable or regular. He was a very good student though, with a photographic memory. He could memorize any chart or table in the texts; then with a pencil he would tap out a rhythm on a desk, and with rap-like lyrics recite the entire chart or table. After a hard day, Johnny often came after I had finished my janitorial work to go swimming with me in the Weber Gym pool. In those days boys were not allowed to wear suits in the pool - an economy measure? We'd have a cold shower, then dash past the lockers across the broad tile poolside approach to the water - under a balcony from which we often dove into the warm water. It was wonderful! One afternoon we completed our ablutions and raced each other to the water. Johnny was in the lead and ready to dive in. Suddenly he fell forward and was sliding on the wet tile toward the water. The next thing I knew he was on his hands and knees frantically clawing his way back into the locker room. I stopped in time to notice that the pool was full of girls! They, of course, were required to wear swim suits. Johnny finished medical school, becoming a very well-known neurosurgeon with a large practice in San Francisco. He died suddenly at 43 of an aneurysm. Two of his sons, I believe, are also doctors. Another student in the class of '37 became a good friend of mine. "Gibby" had a very high G.P.A. in accounting, but he needed a biological science class to fill his groups, so he took Dean Anderson's Intro to Bacteriology, changed his major, and earned a Ph.D. at Ohio State. Later he was employed at Dugway Proving Grounds on a germ warfare project, but he spent his life, until retirement, at the National Labs in Bethesda, Maryland. Gibby was a character - a real "Free Spirit." While at Weber he paid his expenses with a paper route in Roy. After finishing his route one day, he put a few things in the wire basket attached to the handlebars of that old bike and pedaled to Provo to register in bacteriology under Dr. "Tommy" Martin. His student job at the "Y" was to run a movie sound projector for various professors, as requested. He offered to give me a lift from the upper to lower campus. With a heavy projector in the basket in front, he put me on a skimpy seat on the fender. Before I could suggest that the projector could fall off and be mined, he shoved off. Down the curving hill we went, his legs and arms waving in the wind. He regained the handlebars in time to cut through an irrigation ditch and make a left turn onto the sidewalk toward the Education Building. Students on the sidewalk stood aside in silence as if they had just seen Ichabod Crane. Gibby was a very enthusiastic student, and Tommy Martin had given him permission to study pathogenic bacteria. In those days blood agar was not commercially available; so he secretly rigged up a siphoning system for drawing his own blood into a sterile flask, through a tube connected to a needle in his arm. He passed out! Only providence saved him from bleeding to death by clogging the needle. Owen Shurtliff, a friend of mine, and I had a passion for chemistry while in high school, and we each had labs of our own at home. Mine was in the attic. Owen had a shed attached to the home provided for his stepfather, the caretaker of Lorin Fair Park. We collected bottles from the back alleys of drug stores and doctors' offices, then filled them with chemicals we got from Ogden Wholesale Drug Company. Owen was very smart, but in those days some people thought he was a little strange. At Weber College he was a good student, but still a little strange. He was good at making sodium periodate, a very unstable substance. Owen was adept at depositing a few vials of this stuff behind the plate of the light switches. When some one came into a dark room, there would be an explosion when the light was turned on! Just a loud bang and a puff of smoke, but it was a challenge to Owen. At the U of U he was discovered by Bell Labs and taken into their very enviable research department. One of his contributions to the effort was his design of a special type of antenna for tracking satellites or missiles. I lost track of him until he died a few years ago. He had been using his real father's name, Owen Fiet, and had spent years in the Orient supervising the development of this secret project. One of my present neighbors, Steve Kennedy, another student in the class of '37, got a law degree after leaving Weber, became an FBI agent and later the State Fire Marshal. He made it possible for us to have some antique fire trucks in our 50th reunion parade, but to me, the most interesting thing about Steve was that he was a star football player at Weber. He told me, while working on our float for the reunion, that his real contribution to Weber's athletics was in basketball. Steve is about my height - 5 feet 8 inches! - and built like a linebacker. Yes, Weber encouraged everyone to lengthen his stride. There is one activity I took part in that no one ever knew about until now. After Weber I worked at Becker's Brewery to earn money to go to Cal. While "feeding" the bottle washer - a very dull job - I conceived of three articles in my head as I stood there putting dirty beer bottles on the washer rack. After work I handwrote the articles, signed them "Timothy Hayes," and stuffed them into the Scribulus box after hours. Two of the articles were published, but I have never seen those published articles. I wonder if somewhere among the memorabilia of the class of '37 there may be a couple of Scribuli with my pen name inside. 16 The Eggbeater Carma Jean Allen Rossi '36 My eleven year-old grandson, Patrick, had just put a baking sheet of chocolate chip cookies in the oven. While he was licking the bowl, I was busy rinsing the eggbeaters. Suddenly, he stopped and looked at me with his big Irish eyes and asked, "Gram, what did you learn in college?" It was like a bolt out of the blue. "Well?" He had me in his gaze. There was moment of silence. "You see this eggbeater? It played a big part in my graduation. I needed three credits, with only one semester to go. So I registered for a class in home economics - cooking." "So, you learned how to cook?" he asked. "Did I ever!" The first day in class, the instructor introduced herself at Lydia Tanner. She talked for a few minutes about good nutrition, and then Carma Jean Allen Rossi she came down hard like a hammer. She threatened us. "If I catch one of you who doesn't rinse off the eggbeater after using it, I won't give you a passing grade." It was like a fire alarm -wow! That's all I could think about, and I needed those three credits to graduate. I even rinsed off clean eggbeaters with ceremony, hoping to catch the teacher's eye. My grandson replied, "Gee, Grams, you learned a lesson. I bet ya some other graduates couldn't answer my question." Thank you, Lydia Tanner, for giving me the initiative to graduate from Weber College with an Associate of Science degree in 1936. I'm over 80, and I still recall when cooking became my primary responsibility. The Vagabond King and the Waters of Minnetonka Leah Stoker Tribe '39 One of my fondest memories is the association I had with President Dixon. I felt so privileged when invited by him to sing at Sunday night church services where he was the featured speaker. Doris Ward and I would go with President and Mrs. Dixon, sing a duet, and enjoy President Dixon's uplifting and happy sermons. I found the times with the Dixons very stimulating. They were such gracious people. I remember singing at their home during a faculty reception. Mr. Markham, who taught math and business classes, was an authority on Indian lore. Doris and I would provide the music at special evening meetings where he was speaking. We sang such melodies as "By the Waters of the Minnetonka." Many of my memories are tied to music, I find, and that has been true all my life. I remember rehearsals for The Vagabond King, singing with the Troubadettes, being half of the Frosh Duet and the Soph Duet. The Whip Club's trip to Ricks College in Rexburg, Idaho, to cheer on the basketball team was great fun. The Ricks College Pep Club entertained us beautifully, as I remember, at an afternoon tea all done very cleverly. I think it was during our first morning at Ricks, walking across the campus in a small group when a good-looking young man climbed out of a first-floor classroom window, ran toward us calling, "Do any of you know Leah Stoker?" Naturally, I said I was Leah. He was living in Rexburg with the Sorenson family; they were friends of my parents and Leah Stoker Tribe 17