blanket plus an air mattress to go with my sleeping bag, I spent a chilly night as the ground cold permeated the various corners of the bag. Others less well equipped than I was, moved closer to the fire hoping to draw a little heat from the dying embers. The morning revealed a thin coating of frost on the ground and on our sleeping bags as people arose and headed for the resurrected fire. Several of the girls said they hadn't slept at all, and I innocently said I had an extra blanket I hadn't used that I would have lent to them if I had known. This evoked a wild denunciation, and I feared I wouldn't have a seat mate on the trip home. AMS Outing Ogden Stake Park on the south fork of the Ogden River was the setting for the annual AMS (Associated Men Students) spring outing. The jamboree was ably directed by Winn Richards, Bob Losee, Dick Farr, Bob McAllister, and Dick Williams. Paul Huish was the faculty adviser. Aside from the hot dogs and a watermelon bust, the highlight was the tug-of-war across the Ogden River. The teams were organized with freshmen against sophomores. Though outrageously outnumbered, the sophomores were confident. A stout rope was stretched across the Ogden River with the respective teams lining up, their objective to pull the opposing team through the cold river. After a few preliminary tugs, the contest took on a dramatic struggle with the freshman team gradually pulling their opponents nearer the water's edge. At that point the losing team suffered significant attrition with only the stalwarts clinging to the rope. Their efforts were rewarded with a chilly dousing, while the victors paraded their laurels with cheers and catcalls. The losers, their prowess thoroughly dampened, accused the winners of tying their end of the rope to a tree. This was hotly denied by Jim Blair, who had been seen practicing Boy Scout knots. AMS also sponsored snake dances at noon in downtown Ogden, bonfire pep rallies, and a Ping-Pong contest with the winner, usually Joe Kenny, being challenged by Abe Visser of the building and grounds staff. Robert E. Hansen Memorial Smoker The Hansen Memorial Smoker had its genesis in humor and tragedy. During an assembly, Phoenix members insulted the rival Excelsior Club, whose response to their damaged egos was to challenge the "Phoenix sisters" to a smokeless smoker. Bob Hansen and Lynn Winchester of Excelsior met with Bill Blair and Ralph Call of Phoenix to work out the details. In the aftermath of a fall football game at the Ogden Stadium on Canyon Road, a group of students commenced to tear down the wooden goalposts. The cross bar fell, striking Bob Hansen on the head. He died several days later of complications from a skull fracture. The smoker was postponed until spring, when Excelsior opted to memorialize Bob, an aspiring boxer, with a memorial scholarship to be awarded to an outstanding high school pugilist. The May 14 contest was held in the coliseum at the Ogden Stockyards. Several high school boxers competed for the scholarship, which was awarded by Mrs. Arlo Hansen, Bob's mother, to Gayle Stevenson of Davis High School. Five bouts were promoted pitting Excelsior against Phoenix. Jim Blair fought Keith Chadwick to a draw, while Excelsior's Lynn Winchester decisioned Ralph Call. Dee Call, defending the family honor, TKO'd Red McPhie of Excelsior, while Willis Wynn pounded out a victory over Dean Singleton, spurred on by one of Willis's ex-girl friends, who was cheering wildly for the Excelsior battler. Laurence Burton and Rulon Garfield staged a match that resembled a courting dance of the prairie chicken rather than a fisticuff finale. The following day the combatants wore their cuts and bruises like badges of honor, and each club planned its next insult to the other's vanity. I don't know how long the memorial scholarship continued, but for a short time, a fine friend and athlete. Bob Hansen, was remembered. The Faculty I have often wondered why so many of the good faculty members stayed on at Weber when they undoubtedly could have gone to other institutions or to more lucrative AMS campfire 56 employment. I suspect part of their staying was the sense of family enjoyed by the faculty. A major part of the closeness appreciated by the staff was attributed to President H. Aldous Dixon. Dr. Dixon exhibited a calm, reassuring manner that put people at ease. He maintained an open-door policy to both staff and students and was frequently seen chatting informally in the lounge or hallway with members of the student body. President Dixon was an avid squash player and represented the faculty well in intramural events. The faculty fielded a team in many intramural sports, doing particularly well in tennis, handball, squash, and Ping-Pong. Dr. Dixon took the time to personally write letters of congratulations to students who made a contribution to the college's fame, whether it was music, drama, athletics, or scholarship. I appreciated deeply his talking to me when I was facing a major career decision. His advice helped me make a choice that guided my pursuit in education. From a purely academic point of view, I have to put history teacher Dello Dayton at the top of my list of teachers. His love of history was matched by his ability to make it live for students, and his class lessons were colored with personal experiences he had as an army historian in World War II. O. Whitney Young was another of my favorites. We meticulously learned the spinal nerves to the rhyme "On Old Olympus Terrace Tops, etc." We agonized over the two hundred bones in the body numbered on the portable skeleton, and we stimulated muscles from a frog to test the S. R. theory. Dr. Young was adamant in opposition to two subjects, tobacco and human evolution. Oftentimes prior to a scheduled test a student would raise a carefully rehearsed question about the innocuous nature of smoking or the relationship between man and apes. Immediately, Dr. Young would launch into a lecture on the dangers of smoking or the folly of evolution, and we breathed easy, knowing the test would be postponed for another day. Invariably, the test would contain a question on the two subjects the following day. His skill, playing the guitar, livened many parties and pep rallies, and his eyes twinkled as he related the timeworn jokes of the day. One cannot help recalling the lessons in practical economics exemplified by O. M. Clark. He would sit at his desk and show the bottom of his half-soled shoes, then point out the value of resoling shoes with a home repair kit as opposed to taking them to a shoe repair shop. Likewise, he compared the cost, quality, and wearability of a J. C. Penney suit alongside a Fred M. Nye suit. The labels were merely ego-enhancing. Buying food in bulk, rather than pre-packaged, was another lesson tied into supply and demand. With these homey examples, complex economic theories were introduced, and pragmatic solutions were entertained. O. M.'s economic theories were often overshadowed by his musical talent. He could whistle in two tones. His rendition of'Listen to the Mockingbird" was a highlight of the faculty assembly. When he whistled, you had to watch for darting birds, thinking the sounds were mating calls. Bacteria seemed to grow on you after an exposure to Sheldon Hayes's bacteriology class. Cocci, bacilli, and spirilla became intimate friends as we cultured them in petri dishes. Some of us swimmers, who spent a couple of hours daily in the chlorinated pool, had trouble growing bacteria from skin swabs and had to take samples from less hygienic classmates. Dr. Hayes was a walker who lived on Tyler and 25th Street; he walked to and from school morning and evening and often during the lunch hour. He insisted that walking kept his internal bacteria under control. When he became a club sponsor, we found that beneath that sterile exterior was a person with an enchanting dry wit which we thoroughly enjoyed. Thatcher Allred was the epitome of the suave, impeccable, dignified professor. Words and body language were keys to the soul. His plays were widely acclaimed, and whether they were strictly college performances or part of the larger community theater, they represented his high expectations. The Broadway play My Sister Eileen featuring Marilyn Robinson, Leah Crawford, Kay Randall, Rulon Garfield, and Bill Carpenter gave Ogden a glimpse of the New York theater. And the short plays Why I Am a Bachelor (Burton, Williamson, and Childs) and The Mayor and the Manicure showed the versatility of Mr. Allred's direction. One of my favorite leisure activities has been exploring Utah's scenic back-country. I credit much of this interest to Walter Buss and his classes in geology and geography of Utah. The field trip to Zion and Bryce Canyons in the spring of 1946 brought about a zest to learn more of this great state. Dr. Buss exhibited a vast knowledge, not only about the geology and geography of the state, but also about the folklore and foibles of early Utah settlers. He imparted this familiarity as he muscled the school bus down the highway or rambled along country roads. Now fifty years later, I relate to my children and grandchildren some of the gleanings about the land I gained from this teacher so well remembered. Compassion wasn't a requirement for college instructors, but C. H. Anderson dealt me an undeserved quantity of it. In winter quarter 1943, I was enrolled in his United States History class. I had also enlisted in the Army Re- 57