Class of 1947 Reunion Ruth Dixon Cannon The mood of the 400 girls who were enrolling at Weber College in the fall of 1945 was not particularly good. We were sick and tired. We were sick and tired of war; we were sick and tired of sending our men out to fight. We were sick of writing "V" mail, which took months to return. We were sick of rationing, those little coupons that said we could have only two pair of shoes a year, and little meat and little sugar. We were sick of not being able to take textiles and sewing classes because there was no material on which to sew. We were sick of having only one pair of nylons and having to take them to J.C. Penney's to be mended at ten cents per inch. But all 400 of us enrolled at Weber College with no idea of what earth-shattering bombs were falling on Japan, or of their fallout upon Weber College. Within weeks, men began returning to our campus, and the 1945 fall Signpost reported that "With more men on campus, the rationing of men has been discontinued." Within the next two years, enrollment quadrupled. We had football games again. The Signpost resumed publication because paper was again available. The men's clubs were restored. We had snake dances down Washington Boulevard before football and basketball games and pep rallies at the Egyptian Theater. Look magazine, on October 1, 1946, reported Weber College as one of the top 15 junior colleges in America. We didn't need Look to tell us we were the best, and these were the best of times - times to laugh and be outrageous and have fun, to sing and to be joyful and to be young at heart. Now, how did I get the honor of speaking for the women on the campus? There is a little story behind this. My father had asked my brother and me, at one point, not to run for office, and not to stick our neck out for things, because if we won, people had a lot to say about it. At an assembly, and I don't really remember how this came about, I was appointed freshman representative to the Associated Women Students. The following spring friends wanted to know if it would be all right to put my name in nomination for the presidency of the Associated Women Students. I don't know what possessed me, but I assured them it would be all right. There was a long list of names. We didn't campaign. There weren't any signs around, and I really didn't think much about it - believing my election would never happen. Finally, when there were only two names, my name was still there. I finally told my mother what I had done. Before the banquet, she said, "You have to tell your father what is going on." 1 remember the night of the AWS banquet, where the new president would be announced, and my father would be the only man in attendance. He didn't say anything. He just put his arm around me and gave me a hug, and we went on to the banquet. It was a long night. I was seated across from my father, and he didn't eat anything. I don't think I ate much myself. Someone, without thinking, had seated me right next to Beth Willey, who was my opponent. When it was announced, we were sitting right there, face to face. I did enjoy being president of the Associated Women Students. The thing I remember about my time in office was just struggling all the time because we had on one side Mae Welling, who was the dean of students, who tried to teach us some couth and culture, and on the other side we had Wally Baddley, who was probably the grumpiest man I ever knew. Between the two of them, they spent the whole year telling me what I couldn't do. It was very difficult to decorate for dances or whatever activity we had without crepe paper, which was unavailable. So, our parties were decorated with corn stalks and pine bows and whatever was growing along the ditch bank. Wally told us we couldn't hang them and we couldn't drape them, and Mae Welling told us what was right. Mark Petrich came back from the service, and every time we had an AWS function, he would write in the paper how silly it was for us to be doing these things in the wake of the war years. But it was great fun! The talent show with the Phoenix "Philharmonic" was unforgettable. Mel Thayne, the conductor, came in a tuxedo, under which he wore red underwear. Harry Burchell, all 300 pounds of him, ran the full length of the auditorium to play one note on the triangle. The Phoenix "Philharmonic" won the talent show. The prize, taken out of the AWS funds, was $ 15.00 for the winner, $ 10.00 for the runner up, and $5.00 for honorable mention. These awards just about broke our AWS budget. Along with the talent show, we sponsored the Pre- Ruth Dixon Cannon 114 ferred Man Ball every year. Mel Thayne was the preferred man our first year; the second year it was Eldon Malmquist. Eldon was the handsomest man that ever was. I would like to see Eldon again to see if he is still as gorgeous as he was then. We also sponsored a Charm Week, a week in which guests talked to us about grooming and manners. At the end of the week, we sponsored the Preference Ball. Annually, AWS sponsored a Friendliest Girl Banquet. The friendliest girl was chosen by secret ballot. Somehow the mantel fell on my shoulders. Tonight I brought my bracelet given me that night with all the club pins attached. Because this was 1947, the centennial anniversary of the pioneers arrival in Utah, we decided to have a pioneer theme. Someone had the idea of having a bonnet, instead of a crown, made for the friendliest girl. Well, I don't know whom it was made to fit, but it wasn't me - it was huge -and it was wonderful, all hemstitched in satin. I couldn't see out from under it, which was probably a good thing, because a group of men had been asked to serenade the friendliest girl, and they had been giggling as they waited outside to come in. I know Mel Thayne and Willis Wynn and probably all of the rascals on campus were involved in this musical group. They broke down laughing in the middle of their song and were much afraid of Mae Welling afterwards. I thought they were laughing at me in this terrible bonnet. On the day following that banquet, about 10:30 a.m., frantic women started running out of the classroom. The hotel had served chocolate eclairs for our dessert which had something in them that belonged in Sheldon Hayes's lab, not in our chocolate eclairs. The women found refuge in the ladies' lounge, the men's locker room, the gymnasium, and the pool. It was quite a sight. The worst part was, that morning at 5 o'clock, a bus had left on one of Walter Buss's excursions to Grand Canyon. The illness hit the women as the bus neared Nephi. I believe every gas station between Nephi and Grand Canyon remembers us well. The reason the chocolate eclairs were suspected was that I and about half a dozen others were not ill at all. As the waiter had come down to the end of our table serving dessert, he had run out of chocolate eclairs and brought us cherry pie. In order to avoid a lawsuit, the hotel refunded the money that we had paid for the banquet, and we all lined up and got our $1.10 refund. We were so poor at that time that a lot of the girls thought that it was probably worth it. I loved Sheldon Hayes so much that I wanted to be a bacteriologist. I thought this was just going to be great. However, my faculty adviser said that it would not be seemly for a girl to major in bacteriology and that it would be much more appropriate to major in elementary education. What the world lost in my not being a bacteriologist is questionable, but no one would dare say that to a woman today. At this time, Weber was looking for property on which to build a new campus. The legislature had passed the bill giving permission to purchase land where we are now, the Mills property. Its cost was around $100,000, if you can believe it. The legislature would provide $50,000, but the community was expected to match the funds with another $50,000. Each student leader was paired with a member of the Chamber of Commerce and was given a list of businesses and offices to ask for contributions. Some of them really struggled to give us $ 10.00, and others would give us $100.00. By the end of the campaign, $50,091 had been collected, and land for the new campus was purchased. You can't believe how bizarre it was to live in the middle of the campus and some of the weird things that happened there. For instance, an old airplane was purchased for the vocational students to practice on. Somehow two of them got the propeller going, and it actually lifted off the ground ten or fifteen feet. Unfortunately, it came down on several cars parked behind the Vocational Building. People came back and said, "You know, I just parked my car behind the Vocational Building, and this plane hit it." Another strange thing happened when Weber had purchased a surplus radio station from the Navy. Communications taught radio broadcasting twice daily. What no one knew at the time was that the frequency of the radio station was the same frequency as the electronic garage doors in Ogden, and from 11 to 12 o'clock in the morning and from 2 to 3 o'clock in the afternoon, all these demented garage doors were going up and down. It took some real sleuthing to figure out what was causing the activity. I must confess that when Mel called me to help plan this reunion, I really didn't want to serve on this committee. I could see gray hair and wrinkles in the mirror every morning, and I wasn't sure it would be fair to expose them to my old classmates. Oh, I can't imagine what I was thinking. You guys never grew up. I drove into the parking lot to attend the first meeting just as Mel Thayne and Kay Randall drove up. They got out of their cars, and Mel went off to get me a parking pass, and Kay carried my books. It was as though the years had never been. We went into the meeting, and there was Willis and Larry and Marvin and Carol and Ettalue. It was just like old times. I don't know what you call it - this wonderfully elusive sense of each other that transcends the years. Today, they might call it bonding, a sense of community, significant others, meaningful relationships. Whatever it is, it is a wondrous thing, and it is a wondrous thing to share it with you. Thanks for the memories, and thanks for remembering my father. Bless you all. 115