Two Campuses: One Old, One New Sharon Slater Burton '55 In 1954, I began my freshman year on the small downtown campus. I immediately felt cradled in the warmth of its traditions. I felt a kind of reverence not only for the old classical buildings, but also for the people who had been there before, students and teachers. I can still clearly picture the sunny days when we sat on the steps of the old Moench Building beneath the tall, feathery trees. We wore full skirts and bobby sox. We solved world problems there on those steps - or flirted with the boys. We joked occasionally with the teachers as they passed by. Classes were small and intimate. I can still remember in Walter Buss's geology class how those little rock samples felt and smelled and even tasted. How different they looked when we saw them in boulder sizes during the rock identification tests! And Sheldon Hayes's life science class - those long afternoon labs looking through microscopes at Paramecium. I remember thinking, "If I can get through this, I can get through anything." In Philosophy 101 with Jennings Olson, we looked at new ideas in old ways. I was proud of that B I received (without losing my beliefs as so many parents were concerned about then). And my literature class - especially that class! Wayne Carver at his best! The liquid language from his lips! My freshman heart was so in awe of him. Jean Kunz in a child development class became a perfect role model. She interacted beautifully with young children, and though she didn't realize it, influenced my life and career choice of teaching. I had received a tuition scholarship to attend Weber. The amount of the scholarship seemed gigantic. As I recall, the tuition was about $51.00 per quarter. To pay for books and extras, I worked in the "cage" in the women's gym (who could forget Gertie Stallings?). I can still imagine walking up the incline to the second floor, opening the hall door, and walking into the chlorine smell of the cage. For some reason I felt quite important being in charge of those powerful keys on the wall. I met a lot of new friends who idled by that cage window. Once when I was studying in the cage, the hall door thundered open, and an article of men's athletic wear cata- pulted through the air like a falling star. I screamed, picked it up with a coat hanger, and dumped it in the garbage can. Since I had grown up in a family of girls, I didn't know what it was. One of my friends enlightened me. Although we came to Weber with our own set of friends, we quickly and easily made new ones. It didn't matter what social club we joined, really. We were all friends, and everyone participated in activities, assemblies, sports, dances. I can even remember playing in a pool tournament. You didn't need any qualifications or special skills. You just did it. I remember a winter assembly in which Marilyn Johns, Ann Howell, Lila Allen, Carol Vee Robinson, Marlene Morgan, and I performed a creative dance in white furry hats and short red skirts trimmed with strips of white cotton stapled to the hems. We were ice skaters. To the tune of "Winter Wonderland" we whirled and slid and jumped in lofty synchronized patterns. Everyone participated in intramurals. I still have a basketball and volleyball W letter gently tucked between pages in an old scrapbook. Many music memories merge. We performed The Merry Widow and Roberta. I think of tuxedos and frothy formals. Basically, I was one of the chorus standing in a semi-circle singing. Sophistication in staging of choruses had not yet arrived at Weber. I did have one small part, a most unlikely typecast part, that of a model in a Parisian style show - one startled moment of walking on a ramp. The best musical memory, however, is of our own quartet with LuWanna Harris, Marilyn Kunz, Elaine Taylor, and me. We called ourselves the Nu Notes, a very bland name by today's standards. With arms shifting back and forth rhythmically like the wheels of a steam train, we warbled "Gonna Take a Sentimental Journey." We had fun singing frequently around the college and community. In 1955, I skeptically viewed the new campus. Stark and unimaginative, the four boxy buildings squatted against the magnificent mountains. Black chunks of soil, recently churned, begged to be smoothed and planted between the buildings. A roughly graded road veered to the south of the buildings. A winter assembly 82 We began our sophomore year on upper campus. No grass! No towering trees! No porticos or porches to sit under or on! No place to eat! No respectable parking lot - but that didn't matter much because most of us didn't have cars. And so we improvised. We sat in the classrooms and continued our conversations there. We brought our lunches in brown bags and ate in the classrooms. We played hearts and waited for afternoon classes and labs to begin. And besides, we still had the lower campus. That was for gym classes, assemblies, and other activities. We improvised there too. We literally piled into any cars available to make the pilgrimage between campuses. We really did get to know each other closer in those cars. The policemen along the way got to know us too. As student officers, we were concerned about keeping the warmth and continuity we had felt at our revered, tiny campus. We worried about unity on a divided campus. But we needn't have. The activities and old traditions continued: the flaming W hike, clubs, committees, talent shows, assemblies, cow-milking contests, dances, sports, intramurals, operas, plays, field trips. A few new traditions were started. More friendships were made and cherished. Between activities, we studied. Almost unconsciously, knowledge nudged us toward our futures. That was over forty years ago. The Weber I ardently hold in my memory is of two campuses - one old, one new. And I was fortunate to know both. An Unspoken Declaration Kay Karen Giles Genazci, '56 It is important to note that our Class of 1956 was the first class to attend classes straddling both campuses. Trying to get to the campus below was a challenge at times. Gym classes were still held on the old campus. In retrospect, I have been awed and am deeply appreciative of the opportunity to begin my college career with such an outstanding faculty and administration. Each department was excellent, with caring and competent professors. In fear of forgetting any one of them, I won't mention names, but know that this opinion is shared by others in the class of 1956. I do remember that by some unspoken declaration for femininity, women students did not wear pants. My legs would burn with cold, walking to and from classes and waiting for the bus to and from school. Luckily, that changed in the 1960's, and I wonder sometimes if the women now appreciate this small but positive turn of events. Kay Karen Giles Genazci Family Feeling Monty Shupe '56 Weber has always held a special spot in my heart. The family feeling that existed at Weber helped to create special friendships that endure even after forty plus years. A couple of the most memorable members of our class were Darwin Van De Graff and Alan Fleming. The programs that they emceed were unforgettable, but there are also many of that era who enjoyed midnight swimming in the school pool, thanks to Darwin's ability to sneak everyone in, despite security's watchful eye. To this day, no one dare ask Darwin where all of the Christmas trees came from, for the decorations for the Snowball. Probably the most stressful time for me was preparing for the dinner dance. We had received specific instructions from Wally Baddley that nothing could be attached to the ballroom walls, as renovations had just been completed. We constructed a free-standing backdrop for the bandstand made of cheesecloth. Sheryl Larson, our artist, spray painted designs onto the cheesecloth. The dance was a success, and everyone was very pleased until the following day when we dismantled the decorations. On the newly painted blue wall was a gold glitter fan. I waited until late in the day to take my "walk through" with Wally so that the sun could not reveal the added decoration. Thanks to advancing age and possibly poor eyesight, Wally never did discover our addition to his wall. Monty Shupe 83