history


16
Apr 13

Stuck in 1898, part two

I am very interested in some of the pictures from my oldest Glomerata, the 1898, the second one they ever published. Here are a few notes about one of the pictures.

On page 86-87 you find this image and the heading “Best Auburn Records,” which we’ll get to eventually below.

1898 Track Glomerata

These guys were a bit hard to dig up, but meet F. W. Van Ness, H. E. Harvey and W. B. Stokes. This is what we know about them after a few hasty minutes of online searching.

Franklin Waters Van Ness, was born in Pensacola. The 1870 census said there were 7,817 people in Escambia County. Ten years later there were more than 12,000 there. He studied at The University of the South, in Sewanee, Tenn., before enrolling at Auburn for mechanical engineering. In the first track meet in the South, held at Vanderbilt, he ran the half-mile in 2:06.

He’d go into automobiles and had a mention in Motor Age in 1916. He designed cars, vacuum cleaners, and more.

He’d later return to the south to run a cotton mill in North Carolina. He died in 1955, but the Internet doesn’t know where he (or his wife) is buried. They had three daughters. One worked in hotels and is buried in North Carolina. The second daughter died in South Carolina, but is buried in Kansas. Her first husband was an ambassador. Her second was an admiral in the navy. The youngest died in North Carolina. She apparently had a lifetime of health problems.

Henry Everett Harvey died on Oct. 14, 1942. He’s buried just two blocks off campus, at Pine Hill. As a young man he ran the mile in 4:48. That’s all I can find out about him so far.

William Bee Stokes was born in Mississippi, but his family moved to Marion County when he was 14. There were about 11,000 people in Marion at the time. When he moved to Auburn he found himself in a county of almost 30,000.

He was captain on the football team. He played in the first game held on campus, against Georgia Tech in 1896 and scored the first offensive touchdown on campus, a 7-yard run as Auburn was on the way to a 45-0 win. He stayed on at the university for at least two decades, teaching as an instructor and ultimately an associate professor of mathematics. He was making $750 in 1905, about $18,000 today.

In 1920 he took a job running the math department at Southwestern Louisiana Institute in LaFayette. During WWII he worked in the Navy’s V-12 program and taught thermonuclear physics, atomic arithmetic and aerial navigation.

He knew Gen. George Washington Goethals, who was the chief engineer when the Panama Canal was finally completed. He worked with former President Herbert Hoover. He retired to Guin, Ala., which was his wife’s hometown and near his own. He was buried there in 1960. His wife died in 1971.

The records: Auburn, which has boasted 38 Olympians and 35 national champions and a few hundred All-Americans over the years, has a fairly strong program, and it really dates back to these guys. Let’s compare their stats to the current school records. People ran a bit slower in the 19th century, but you really see the difference in the field events. Remember, the modern races are measured in meters, which are a bit longer, and the timers are more precise these days:

1898 Women Men
100-yard dash 10.2 sec 11.03 sec (100m) (2006) 9.98 sec (2000)
100-yard hurdles 17.8 sec 12.93 sec (100m) (2000) 13.25 sec (110m) (2008)
440-yard dash 55.2 50.11 (400m) (1993) 44.45 (400m) (2000)
High jump 5′-3″ 6′-1.5″ (2007) 7′-8″ (2007)
Shot put 32′-10″ 53′-9.25″ (2004) 68′-6″ (2005)
Hammer throw 82′-7.4″ 196′-11″ (2008) 243′-2″ (2008)
Pole vault 9′-5.1″ 12′-6″ (2005) 18′-4.5″ (1997)

Better equipment, dedicated training, diets, and so on. Anyone that’s watched any Olympics appreciates the progression of athleticism when they see old records fall. But consider that first number. The old 100-yard-dash number, if legitimate, is internationally impressive. The world record was set at 10.0 in 1877, 1878, 1880 and again in 1886. It wouldn’t fall to 9.8 until 1890.


9
Apr 13

Travel day

We left later than we wanted to. We did exactly as many miles as we’d like to do on the day. We had a burger on the road, stopped in Birmingham to pick up some banana pudding and managed to get stuck in only one city’s rush hour. It was a day full of travel. Here, then, are some simple pictures.

Just south of the Alabama-Tennessee state line. There is a rocket at the rest area, because this part of the state is full of super smart people, because SPACE.

rocket

That is the Saturn 1B, 141 feet of muscle, angry loud power and mid-century sexiness. Team America! Previously you could walk under the engine nozzles, but now that is fenced off. Team Lawsuits, I guess. The 1B was the predecessor of the Saturn V, which took people to the moon. Anyone remember that?

Nashville was the place where we started and stopped in traffic for no discernible reasons whatsoever. Nashville does that to people.

We stopped in Kentucky, because apparently I still need to take breaks to stretch my back and shoulder. Saw this marker. The good people of the great state of Kentucky have too many numbers on this plaque on this rock at a rest stop. I did not see the 2009-present numbers:

marker

Had dinner and spent the evening with the step-dad. We’re up for a conference close by and he let us spend the night. This is my too-tired-to-go-get-my-real-camera shot.

marker

We stayed up too late. That’s going to hurt at the conference tomorrow.


4
Apr 13

More on the depot and on smoky smoke

I took extra pictures of the old train station, so I may as well use them. It is a neat old building:

trainstation

Click the image to embiggen it in a new tab. The old Auburn Railroad Depot is one of those Places in Peril lists. In the old days, this was the center of everything, but the last person got off and on the train in Auburn in 1970 and things have just crumbled and suffered lately.

There was a real estate company operating out of there for two decades, but the depot has sat vacant for 10 years now. Here’s a look through the windows:

trainstation

And the overly fancy door handle:

trainstation

In addition to the official marker, found here, there is an older plaque mounted on a large stone just outside the depot.

trainstation

The building is described as “A typical example of Victorian railroad architecture, the one-story Richardson Romanesque-styled station boasts long hip roofs, deep eaves, dormers, finials, rounded arches over the windows and flat lintels.”

It is owned by a Montgomery lawyer, who is asking a steep price on a building that needs a lot of work, in a historic district — which would make a new building on the property problematic. So there is a sad stasis to the whole place.

But I love this. This would have been the sign you saw getting off the train:

trainstation

A little bit more of that font in life would never be a bad thing.

This is the third building, built after a 1904 fire. Eight trains a day once stopped there.

The Jolley principle: Where there is smoke there is smoke.

If you are still trying to figure out what a Roopstigo is, and you want to hear some poor arguments for journalism, and from an Auburn journalism grad of all things, you can listen to the interview the guys at 790 The Zone conducted with Selena Roberts. She’s been doing things like this for years, though, and nothing here is that surprising. It is amusing to hear the host’s exasperation with the entire thing. This a direct link to their mp3.

Oh, and now ESPN is stepping in it. They’re calling it a six-month investigation into Auburn, which is great. It took Jay Jacobs, Auburn’s long-suffering athletics director, about four hours to dismantle the entire thing:

The facts clearly demonstrate that the Auburn Athletics Department and the Committee on Intercollegiate Athletics acted appropriately and aggressively in response to the growing threat of synthetic marijuana during the 2010-2011 academic year.

Auburn Athletics began testing its student-athletes for synthetic marijuana three days after a test became available. Since our drug testing policy was amended to include synthetic marijuana as a banned substance, there have been three positive tests for the drug out of more than 2,500 drug tests administered.

It becomes an item-by-item, blow-by-blow mitigation of everything ESPN thinks they have. It is thorough. It is just this side of terse. And it is just about the most thorough media pimp slap you’ll ever see from a group of people who’d prefer to take the high road.

Also, if you’re still wondering about the Roopstigo thing — who? — she named it after her dog. So, previously, we wondered why Selena couldn’t sell her creative writing to another outlet. (Then you read the creative writing which was, in a matter of hours, refuted by almost every source she pretends to quote.) Now we’re wondering “What did you name your dog after?”

Meanwhile, The War Eagle Reader found the first thing she wrote in college. It was … strange.

All you really need to know:

Aubie


2
Apr 13

Stuck in 1898

I am very interested in some of the pictures from my oldest Glomerata, the 1898, the second one they ever published. Here are a few notes about one of the pictures.

On page 86-87 you find this image and the heading “Our Co-Eds.”

Coeds1898Glomerata

Click to embiggen, and then read these scant little bios.

There is Miss Erin Black, who grew up in Lee County, home to Auburn University.

Miss Dabney Bondurant, who would ultimately marry Clifford L. Hare. Auburn people know him very well. ‘Fessor Hare was the longtime dean of Auburn’s chemistry program. He also played on Auburn’s first football team and would ultimately served the university for more than half a century, the football stadium is named after him. They are both buried in Pine Hill Cemetery, just off campus. Much of their personal correspondence is held in Special Collections at the University of Virginia.

Miss Mary Boyd, the daughter of Auburn’s fifth president David French Boyd, was the wife of Walter Lynwood Fleming. A professor at Vanderbilt, he was the recipient of the dedication in the book “I’ll Take My Stand: The South and the Agrarian Tradition.” David Boyd was pals, before the war, with William Tecumseh Sherman. After the war he started LSU. His daughter, Mary Boyd, pictured here, christened a Liberty Ship during World War II. All of that in the span of one generation of a family.

Ms. Lucile Burton would go on to be the secretary to the university’s board of trustees. She died in 1966. There’s a dormitory named after her today.

Miss Toccoa Cozart was born in Atlanta, and moved with her widowed mother to Montgomery just before the Civil War. She grew up on Perry Street, right in here. She became a school teacher, and attended State Normal College in Florence, Ala. (The modern University of North Alabama) and API, studying English and history, under the great George Petrie. She wrote a biography on Congressman and Ambassador Henry W. Hilliard. Her uncle was Confederate colonel William Howell, who took a famous photograph of the inauguration of Jefferson Davis.

Miss Marian Dawson might shows up in the society pages of The Atlanta Constitution in 1905. Seems she was moving elsewhere. The Internet doesn’t give us much more, however.

Miss Eula Belle Hale was the eighth and Miss Zadie Hale was the fourth of 11 children. They probably often heard the tale: their mother, Josephine, was previously courted by their father Samuel’s brother. But the brother was killed at Chancellorsville. They could trace her family back to early settlers in Massachusetts in 1637 and many fighters of the American Revolution. Eula Belle died in the early 1970s.

Miss Pearl Hanson was only 15 in this picture. She’d live only seven more years. Her brother, Charles, would move to Memphis and become a very successful business man. They’re both buried near their parents in Opelika. Pearl’s husband was Ira Champion, the secretary to Gov. Thomas Kilby. Pearl died just five months after they were married. Ira would stay single, worked as a journalist and finally caught on with the governor. He died in 1942.

Miss Fanny Holstun was born just up the road, one county over in sleepy little Waverly. And that’s all we know of her for now.

Miss Kate Lane stayed in town. She buried her sister in 1942. Her brother-in-law was Dean George Petrie and Kate donated his papers to the university in 1948, the largest donation they’d ever received at that time. She also gave her scrapbooks to the university, where they are held in Special Collections. Here is a picture of both Lane and Petrie. Her father was Gen. James Henry Lane, who was a part of Pickett’s Charge at Gettysburg and a hero of the Battle of Bloody Angle (Spotsylvania). She died in 1968, and was buried just off campus. (Update: The General James Henry Lane House, where Kate lived, also appears in the Markers section of the site.)

Miss Lottie Lane was Kate’s sister. While Kate stayed single, Lottie married Matthew Scott Sloan of Birmingham, who also attended API and played football there at the turn of the 20th century. Matthew was a successful railroad man, managing the Missouri-Kansas-Texas Lines in the 1930s, tripling their revenues, and that during the Depression. Before that he worked at General Electric, Birmingam Railway, Light & Power, the New Orleans Railway & Light Company and was president of the Brooklyn Edison Company. Harvard Business School apparently called him one of the 20th century’s great American business leaders.

Miss Jessie Lockhart escapes us entirely. But I did find that she had a younger sister, Katherine, born in 1900. She died, in Auburn, in my lifetime.

Miss Julia Moore married Marion Roby Buckalew. Together they had seven children, including an accountant, two Naval Academy students, an Army officer who retired to become a high-ranking official at Veterans Affairs (who died just a few years ago) and more. She died in 1938.

Miss Hattie Phelps may have become part of a prominent family in Athens, Ala. She could have also lived and died a preacher’s wife in Citronelle, Ala. Now that we’ve covered both ends of the state, via a newspaper and a headstone, the point should also be made that she could have become anything.

Miss Annye Purifoy remains an open mystery.

Miss Mary Robinson was one of the first six young women enrolled at API. (Presumably the rest are also on this list.) She was the second of 10 children, and also from Waverly. She started college with just three years of formal education. She’d go on to be a teacher, and teach all over the state, including just down the road from where I grew up. She attended Howard College (now Samford University, where I teach) for post-graduate work. Her father rode with Gen. Joe Wheeler during the Civil War, and she traced her lineage back to John Hart, a signer of the Declaration of Independence. A remarkable lady, she died in 1955. I found all of this, and more, on a page dedicated to her that was written by Mary Helen Stitzel Benford.

Miss Berta Summers, one of eight children, stayed at home in nearby Opelika. She lost a brother in France in the Great War. A National Register of Historic Places document shows her selling Summers Plantation, a carpenter gothic, to family members in 1954. These days that property is home to the Little Halawakee Wildlife Reserve. The trail for Berta goes cold there.

Not bad for a little Internet searching of people who’ve been gone for decades. It seems they lived full lives of various scope. You’d love to know more details. How many of these young women grew into the suffrage movement, for example?

Next week we’ll check out the 1897-1898 track team.

Hint: They ran fast — for their era.


12
Mar 13

Things I’ve read recently

Tuesdays sometimes get away from me. Of all the days of the week, Tuesday is the one I’d rather keep in order, but that doesn’t always work out. And yet it was a mostly productive day. Students are putting together the newspaper. I did a lot of grading and reading and writing of emails and so forth. Of its own accord it probably wasn’t much, but it is cumulative. It adds up.

So instead of reading all about that, read all about this!

I finished First Man, by Auburn professor James Hansen a few weeks ago. This is the authorized biography of Neil Armstrong, the often misunderstood engineer-pilot-astronaut … why am I explaining who Neil Armstrong was?

This is a fine biography, immensely detailed and well sourced. All but one of Armstrong’s sons took part in in-depth interviews and, of course, the biggest part of the tale leads up to one of the most widely observed accomplishments of all of humankind, so, you know, there are notes for the author to consult.

And despite his analytical, engineering approach to pretty much everything Hansen hints at an engaging Armstrong. He even tells jokes! Which might sound odd of a man considered by so many of his contemporaries considered aloof. He sounds more private, unassuming, and unsure of why you need to know so much about him. Armstrong, after all, only considered himself “a white socks, pocket-protector nerdy engineer,” (pg. 602).

One of the best anecdotes, perhaps, actually involved his wife, Janet:

For the terrors of the landing, Janet again needed to be alone, so she retired to the privacy of her bedroom. Bill Anders decided to join her. Bill and Janet together had given Pat White the bad news that awful night in January 1967 when her husband Ed died in the Apollo fire, and Bill felt he should stay with Janet right through the touchdown. Rick, a very intelligent and sensitive boy, also wanted to be with his mother. She and Rick and been following the NASA flight map step by step, now with Anders’s help. Rick settled on the floor near the squawk box, while Janet and Bill sat on the foot of the bed. (Long after the Moon landing, this led to one of Bill Bill Anders’s favorite quips. “Where was I when the first Moon landing occurred? I was in bed with Janet Armstrong!”) (pg. 480)

Last week I also read No Time for Sergeants which famously became both a Broadway play and movie. I find aww shucks hokum and dialectic reading to wear me out, but this was tolerable enough to get through in a day or two. It wasn’t as funny as the dust jacket implied, but the movie is great, and this scene in both formats is terrific:

It always helps to imagine Griffith in this role:

Mac Hyman attended Auburn for a short while before the war. He lived here. I looked for Hyman in the Glomeratas, but he didn’t seem to make an appearance.

Speaking of Glomeratas, stick around. There’ll be an update to that section later this evening.