We’re going back in time 90 years so we can see, just a bit, of what college looked like at my alma mater in 1934. Some of the great old buildings are there, and so parts of the place feel familiar, but nine decades is 20 or so generations of student churn in a college town. And we’re more interested in the people, anyway. What was life like, in a cash-strapped university, in a poor state, in the middle of the Depression? Before the war, before the growth that came with the G.I. Bill, it was a different world — but some of this is going to look familiar.
This isn’t a complete examination, just a quick flip through some of the images and names that jump out. Even still, we’ll be looking through this for the next few weeks. Let’s see what’s inside the first few pages.
This book belonged to a student named Bruce Johnson. I include this inside page because it amuses me, the big bold label, and the chalky material he used to stencil his name. Sometimes these books, when I got them, didn’t have names inside. I presume those were seniors, or people who didn’t worry about mixing up their belongings with their roommates and friends. But Bruce felt a need. Maybe he was a freshman.
I looked ahead. Bruce was a freshman. He was from Montgomery, Alabama, the state capitol. He majored in electrical engineering. I looked ahead into his senior yearbook, the 1937 edition. He was still an electrical engineering major. He played polo — the kind with horses and sticks.
Here he is, freshman year.
Beyond that … well, the guy’s name is Johnson. Not the easiest name to dig up.
I love these humble little pages. Some real thought went into this. Living — joyous and irresponsible … the sacred tradition of the past … the challenges of the future … when memories have been dimmed remembrances have faded … the joys of service will have been ours.
Someone was feeling poetic when they pulled that together.
The 1934 edition of The Glomerata, the 37th volume, was dedicated to this man, Wilbur H. Hutsell.
An international figure in the coaching world.
A modern moulder of men and an inspirational guidance to all, beloved by student and colleague, we proudly dedicate this volume.
Hutsell was born in Missouri, attended Mizzou and was a quarter-miler there. He coached track at his alma mater, and then became Auburn’s first track and field coach in 1921. He stayed on until he retired, in 1963. In between, he won three conference titles, won 140 dual meets, losing only 25. He coached four Olympians: Snitz Snider, Percy Beard, Whitey Overton, and Jim Dillon. He also coached three NCAA champions, five AAU champions, and saw five of his high hurdlers win national championships. He also served as the trainer for the 1924 Olympic wrestling team and was an assistant track coach at the 1928 Olympic Games. He was the university’s athletic director, twice. Hutsell is honored in the Helms Track & Field Hall of Fame, the University of Missouri Hall of Fame, the Alabama Hall of Fame and the USA Track & Field Hall of Fame. The track on campus is named after him (and also the coach who succeeded him). And all of that pales in comparison to having this book dedicated to him.
And that wood engraving. Isn’t that something?
There are more. This one was opposite the foreword, which we just saw.
Remember, we are in 1934, so we’re full up on art deco. The bottom panel is campus specific — that’s Samford Hall and Langdon Hall, the administration building and the theater/large lecture hall, respectively. Perhaps the yearbook people allowed for customization for each campus. The larger, top panel, though, is generic, or emblematic. The great man, pushing open the doors from campus, and is preparing to stride into the world.
This one looks equally generic, but no less lovely for it. It is opposite the table of contents in the book. Our great man is hammering something.
And whoever Davis is, he’s not on the staff of The Glomerata.
Here’s another generic one. Our great man is embracing the world. It’s lovely, and it’s stock.
Is that the Lyceum in the lower pane? Whatever it is, it isn’t from our campus.
This is the official coat-of-arms of the Alabama Polytechnic Institute. (API was renamed as Auburn University in 1960, though it had casually been referred to as Auburn by everyone for decades.)
This is a one-off, and so I wonder how “official” it is. (It was designed by a member of The Glom’s art staff, John Spearman, a junior studying commercial art, from Birmingham.)
It is always amusing to see these older publications move between the 1856 (or 1857 or 1859) and 1872 founding dates. The 1872 above the eagle head refers to the year the school officially adopted the Agricultural and Mechanical College name. (Auburn is, in fact, the fourth name of the campus.) It started as East Alabama Male College, a Methodist school. Then came the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Alabama when the state took control of the school, in 1872, under the Morrill Act. It was the state’s first land-grant university. API was the name from 1899 to 1960, and it has, of course, been Auburn ever since.
Spearman was the son of a steel man. He was born in 1912 and died in central Alabama in 1987. He married and buried his first wife, and then married again in his late 60s. He’s buried in Hoover, in a cemetery I drove by regularly for years and years.
While there isn’t a lot on his coat-of-arms, I thought I’d find more about him, but alas.
Finally, for the day, we come to The Glomerata’s staff, hard at work in this not-at-all posed photograph.
I never worked on a yearbook, though I have, in my professional capacities, casually watched a few staffs put them together over the years. This is about the right level of industriousness.
The editor was a guy named Joe Ledbetter, a senior from Anderson, South Carolina, a pre-law major. He was an ROTC captain, and a member of the Glee Club. And then, after he graduates, he just seems to have disappeared from view.
But I’ll keep looking. And you will too. We are, after all, just getting started. What’s in store for us in the coming weeks of our glance back 90 years ago, into a 1934 yearbook? You’ll have to come back next Friday to see.
The full collection will live in the Glomerata section, of course. You can see others, here. Or, to just see the beautiful covers, go here.
