Thursday


1
Oct 26

Welcome to Catober

Welcome to October, when the certitude of the season becomes a certainty. We are past the equinox. The temperatures are dipping. The days are indisputably growing shorter. For a decade now I have not had the best reaction to fall. I’ve struggled with enjoying its many pleasures because of what follows it. Living in dread of something later is a great way to miss out on today. So, this year, I am trying a different approach.

I’ll start with the idea of being present. I’ll take deliberate efforts to enjoy this moment. Not that I am ignoring anything, but just because I will probably spend all of the winter indoors anyway, why hate that? Plus, El Niño is supposed to give us a milder, wetter winter. Conditions are ideal, then, to figure out how to not miss today. I should have rationalized that yesterday.

We’ll see how long it lasts. At least until tomorrow.

Catober has begun, as you might have noticed. We’ll have daily photos of the cats every day all month long. Tomorrow Phoebe will be at the top of the page around noon. Saturday, it’ll be Poseidon. Sunday Phoebe, and so on, throughout Catober.

And because it is the first of the month I have done all of the boring computer stuff. Cleaning old files to try to save a little space, changing the file structures, and so on. Also, I have updated the photos on the front page. After two tries of putting these together … they still aren’t working as well as I’d like. This is a beautiful creature, my photos notwithstanding. Anyway, if you go to the front page of the site, you’ll see photos like this.

That’s a lilac breasted roller (Coracias caudata). There are 15 photos. If you sit there for a minute you’ll see them all. Go on, have a look. We’ll wait for you.

In class today I finished up a week of talking about the sharing of data and surveillance. I used a lot of recent videos. I like this first one because everyone sits up a little bit straighter from the implications.

This one, I think, someone has to think about a great deal, but it lets me delve into some communication theory stuff.

And I played this one as a way to let us get to doxxing. Everyone knows about it. No one wants to think about it. And we should all pay a lot more attention to it.

And here’s a handful of recent stories that we touched on today, too.

Facebook is paying controversial creators to produce rage-bait content

LinkedIn and X are flooded With AI spam, browsing data suggests

Australians could soon be able to choose what appears in their social media feed. How would this work?

Warhammer YouTuber pulls the plug after 10 years amid games workshop takedowns, death threats, and doxxing over 3D printing designs

US judges are worried for their safety — and their independence

Elon Musk’s Grok AI is doxxing home addresses of everyday people

AI can now doxx your anonymous accounts? Here’s what’s going on

Somehow, because I worked on it quite a bit, I managed to make it a full class. Hopefully it was useful and helpful.

Later, I went to pick up my lovely bride across campus. There was a crowd at the parking deck elevator. And also fire fighters. I asked someone if the elevator was working. Seems like someone was trapped inside one of the cars. So stairs it was! What a great day to park on the fourth floor.

A fireman went up behind me, keeping pace. He had to go to the top of the deck, which is six flights up, to do something that aided in the rescue of people in a small metallic box. I was pleased he stayed the same distance behind me on the way up and that he didn’t feel the need to render assistance to me. Four floors isn’t that many floors, but my backpack is heavy.

I don’t know what the protocol for elevator incidents might be, or the specialties involved, but they sent out two trucks.

So that was twice this week — at least! — that they’ve rolled out to that building. I’m not nervous about next week at all, no. Why do you ask?

The sun and the sky and the clouds were putting on a great show for the ride home. We got in and sat out back and read for a bit, until the bugs came. The mosquitos outnumber us at least six-to-one, and we can also read indoors, which is what we wound up doing.

Before I went inside, I stopped by one of the hydrangeas. I love this part of the season for them. There’s so much character in the blooms, and they’re all so very different.

I’d like to think there’s a grand reason for that. Some epic story of success and minerals, trials and winds, and the way the rain drops land just so.

Maybe it has something to do with the sun or a bumpy part of the soil. Probably its just how the photosynthesis works on the thing, and how quickly or slowly some thing is going on in the root system.

These are all facing the morning sun, though, and what could make up that difference? Maybe its the fairies. Maybe it is plant energy. Maybe it is fairy energy.

Maybe each of these blooms has a different, but evolving, view of autumn.

One year, when I’m not busy, I’m going to watch that plant a lot more closely. It’ll be a photo study. We will figure this out.

Anyway, that’s enough for today. Happy Catober. Come back tomorrow for another great kitty photo. We’ll have a great time.


24
Sep 26

When you wake up and go to sleep in different places

No one was in the cat tunnel this morning, or at least this cat tunnel. But I liked the light and the colors and now you can appreciate them, too.

We have two cat tunnels because we have two very jealous sibling cats. If we didn’t have to walk around on the floor of the house we’d probably have a lot more cat tunnels. They’re cheap and the cats like them, but I think if you buy them in bulk you get a call from your bank or credit card about suspicious purposes.

“Who needs to purchase 45 cat tunnels on a Wednesday, sir?”

Some questions need to be asked, but some questions shouldn’t be answered.

In class today I refreshed our memories about the difference between performing and exhibiting identities. This seemed important based on the eager, yet quizzical expressions I received when I asked the day’s question: why would social media companies try to convince users that we are performing, rather than exhibiting, identity. This all gets to our previous readings, of which we have so far had four in this class. It is a bit philosophical, but not without some important distinctions.

It also allowed us to talk about the sort of data we generate. I made two nice slides on this and one of them I’ll use several times in the coming weeks, I am sure. We discussed user generated data, metadata, where it all goes, the databases it lives in, and the algorithms that grow from it. Students love to mention the algorithms, and this class goes probably a bit deeper than they thought possible or necessary. It is not enough to say “the algo” because there is ordering, interfacing, filtering, and all sorts of curation (biased and otherwise) to get to. Today is the day when I put up a slide about how bias in programming works against some users — usually marginalized or minority users, of course. And I introduced the whole room to the classic expression: GIGO. Garbage In, Garbage Out, a programming term that is even more applicable today than it was when an IBM guy coined it in the 1950s.

Next week we’ll talk about surveillance. Who knows what they’ll all think after that.

We left campus at a reasonable time and the sun was already doing this before we got home.

It’s pretty. It’s beautiful. I hate it.

I’m going to retire as a sunbird, moving from place to place that maximizes the daylight. A better plan may come along before I get to that age, but I haven’t thought of a better one yet.

Here’s a scene from the airport. I’m not sure that’s meant to invoke confidence at an airport. It is a helicopter either on fire, going down, or in too-close proximity to another aircraft. Also the guy in the EVA suit. What are we saying with this art?

And then here, in Nashville, is a bit more art. It’s evocative of the Tennessee flag.

That flag has been around since 1905, with the stars representing the three regions of Tennessee — legally and geographically unique — east, middle, and west. It’s a simple, clean look. Some people see some similarities to Confederate symbols. That’s probably more likely than not in Tennessee. I haven’t spent a lot of time looking into that, either way, it inspires some other nice art around there.

Anyway, I’ve flown to Nashville to go to north Alabama for a long weekend. Spending a little family time. More from there … that is, here … tomorrow.


17
Sep 26

Onions, anyone?

I woke up, I read the news. I did some work. I had an early lunch. I got ready to go to work. I sighed at all of the things I need to do. This, I thought to myself today, is where I wrestle this week into control. And also tomorrow. Also, let’s not think about all of the things I should do around the house. It’s that time of the semester already.

And so we hopped in the car.

On campus I had a chat with a colleague around the copy machine. The water cooler is just around the corner, but that seemed a little too on-the-nose. I sent a thank you note to another colleague. I replied to roughly half a dozen student emails. I took care of a small task upon which I was overdue by an egregious 13 hours. I finished my notes for class. Right on time, too. As I scribbled out the outline of the last things I wanted to say today — I use a very small notebook and 75 minutes usually works out to about three pages of outline-stye notes. Today, comparing thoughts to my prepared slide deck, I turned it into four pages and offered a little silent prayer that the class would have a conversation with me.

They did! We sat in that super hot room, which is now baking at about 82 degrees, a remarkable improvement from a few sessions ago when I sweated completely through a sport coat while sitting still.

Today we talked about the social part of our techno-social lives. How the technology influences the culture and vice versa. I successfully resisted the urge to make any Star Trek references. We talked about how technology changes our expectations of things. I stumbled upon a great question … who have you talked to already today that is out-of-state, and how did you communicate with them. People dropped all sorts of states, one student talked to a relative in Jamaica. I had deliberately sent notes to people in a variety of places already this morning, just so I could make my point if they did not. But they did!

They’re becoming a class of talkers and that’s going to make all the difference.

Anyway, the first half hour flew by and then the second half hour did a slow crawl and then accelerated unexpectedly. It’s a 75 minute class and I think we wrapped up at 74 today. Just as I hoped and hoped as I planned.

They have to read a great paper for class next week and I hope a few of them like it. It can inspire great conversations, and in our techno-social lives that’s going to be key. Three students stood around and talked about that with me after class for a few minutes.

Also one student whipped out an iPod on cue, as if she knew where the class was going. She later told me she had a cassette tape Walkman that she’d discovered in her mom’s old things. And that she and her roommate go buy records. People are full of wonderful surprises.

After class I picked up my lovely bride and we drove home. We took part in the relative new ritual of sitting outside to read on Thursday evenings, because we know how to party. At about 6 p.m. she had to go inside for a meeting, and I stayed out for a bit longer to catch up on all of the ink that has been spilled today. This plane flew over head.

I didn’t look it up on the flight tracker app, because sometimes the mystery is better. This plane is on the usual route for airlines going to Europe, though, and I wonder where all of those people will wake up in the morning. I wonder if it is somewhere fun. I wonder if anyone looked out the windows and glanced down at the little places they are flying over and leaving behind to go somewhere fun. Let’s say Venice. Why not?

I went inside. Got cleaned up. Sat down at my computer to check the work email one last time, and do a few quick work related things that were on my mind. Set a fantasy team, checked the address of a meeting I have tomorrow. Attempted, once more, to wrestle this week into control. Succeeded, for half a second, in not thinking about the things I should be doing around here. Utterly failed at ignoring the work required of me next week or the week after. Then I recited the usual ritual: after that, there will be less today, and it will be easier.

Dear reader, this is a lie we tell ourselves every week. And already, my calendar is piling up into mid-October.

I was called down to dinner. We had barbecue chicken baked potatoes. We had barbecue chicken baked potatoes because my lovely bride had picked up some scallions. She doesn’t care about them, but I think scallions are a wonderful addition to most any plate.

Also, I do not have a good grasp of scallion-to-plate ratios. There’s a whole bag in the crisper. I retrieved it, found the good knife, pulled some onions out of the bag, considered what was in my hand, put some back, and started cutting. This was what I wound up with.

Note to self: four scallions is a lot of scallions.

They’re presented here for maximum comedic effect, but no matter how I pile and photograph them, that’s a lot of scallions. I was able to move things while cutting and eating so it didn’t seem like I was having a potato with my scallion plate. But there was a bite or two, right at the end, where it seemed no better than just pulling a handful right of the ground and eating it in your garden.

If you grow scallions I may come by and do just that. Not tonight. I’m good for tonight. But in the future.


10
Sep 26

The 1936 Glomerata, part one

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 1936. Some of the great old buildings are there, some not yet so old! It’s starting to look modern, in campus and in the people. 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 G.I. Bill brought the next population boom to campus, 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.

Clearly this particular book — which was unsigned and doesn’t seem to give us any context clues as to the original owner — has been through some things. I like to imagine that this is an Alabama clay treatment that someone put on the cover, just to remind readers of where most of the people inside came from.

Let’s see some of the photos from those first few pages. This yearbook was dedicated to university president, Luther Noble Duncan. (Guys you’ve already got the job.) The dedication reads:

Having labored unceasingly for the growth and progress of Auburn, Dr. Luther Noble Duncan is esteemed by the citizens of Alabama and beloved by the entire student body. It is with sincere appreciation of his services to the institution and profound admiration of his sterling character that we dedicate to him this thirty-ninth volume of the Glomerata.

Just a few years earlier, when he was the director of the Extension system, the largest newspaper in the state called Duncan “a master of political trickery…probably without a peer, certainly without a superior, in Alabama.” The publisher of the paper sat on the university’s board of trustees. Duncan came to this job when his predecessor, a man named Bradford Knapp, resigned, citing pressures and stress. Knapp, the son of the distinguished agricultural reformer Seaman A. Knapp and president of Oklahoma A&M College, was academically qualified, but politically outgunned for this job. (And believe me when I tell you that is the everlasting theme of the place. Duncan moved over to the mansion in 1932 after the locals landed on the governor demanding he get the job. They liked his financial sense, that he knew the state and the players. And, by then, everyone knew about his abilities in the political arena. There was a lot of figurative knife-fighting involved in Duncan finally getting the job, in 1935. I’m sure there’s some thin allusion in the above dedication to all that transpired, but there were a lot of problems on campus in those tense times.

Early (in 1932), the committee made its first report to the board. They had found that the college owed $160,000 for various supplies and expenses. Approximately $300,000 had been borrowed from this operating fund and placed in the building fund in anticipation of payment on state building warrants, which never materialized. They also found $10,000 in unpaid interest on loans. The treasury was empty and the committee had been forced to borrow money to purchase stamps. The faculty and staff, who had been paid in certificates of indebtedness for the past ten months, had been informed that no one could be assured of a job after July 1, 1933. No concerted effort had been made to register students for the fall quarter that had just ended.

Because of his budgetary experience as extension director, Duncan played a crucial role on the administrative committee during the coming months. As of September 30, 1933, the end of the fiscal year, the college had paid forty-five percent of budgeted salaries. Early in 1934, the board authorized the committee to obtain all state bonds due to the college, to exchange the state building warrants for bonds, and to pay the school’s outstanding debts with these funds. By July, the faculty were receiving sixty percent of budgeted salaries. In early 1935, when the board named a president, the choice was clear. Hanson still opposed Duncan, as did one other board member, but otherwise the extension director enjoyed solid support.

There was also the political theater around something called the Teacher-Training Equalization Fund, which was, by this point, a several-years-long program that favored some institutions in the state over others for funding. This was nothing new. But it was changing. Just a few months after this yearbook came out Duncan won over the new governor, Bibb Graves, and the funds were equalized. This would be the first of many such corrections required for the university, over the next six decades or so.

He’s got a road on campus named after him, and also a building. I had an on-campus internship and an office in that building for almost two-years.

These past few years had been pretty tough on the Plains.

Charles Cary was the first dean of the vet school, and had been around for forever. Before he had that deanship, though, he’d also served as the first state veterinarian, and led in establishing meat and dairy inspection laws. He helped wipe out fever ticks in Alabama, pushed brucellosis and tuberculosis testing and the mass production of hog cholera serum. A few years later, in 1940, they’d name a building after him. it was the vet building for 30 years. Later, I had two biology classes there.

Bolling Hall Crenshaw was a local man, son of a judge, and taught the pluses and minuses for a long time. He was also part of a three-man executive committee that ran the university while they got their act together and finally decided to hire Duncan. His home the Crenshaw Guest House, is now a B&B — 12-foot vaulted ceilings, to golden heart pine floors, all Victorian design.

Porter Crowl Brook was a Georgia boy, the second oldest of six. He died in Montgomery at just 42. His wife survived him by 41 years.

There’s a George Ludwig Fick buried at Pine Hill. He died in 1936. His marker lists his Navy service, but nothing about the university. (Most all of the markers there do.) Also, I’m not sure about the years, since this says he left campus in 1932, but the Fick I found passed away in 1936.

They have a four-page spread of deans. The first one you meet is Marion Jacob Funchess, and he has clearly mastered the new art of the candid photograph. He has a building named after him, built in 1961. That place denies the rights and rules of physics. It houses the biological sciences department, entomology, plant pathology, agronomy and horticulture.

It smelled of formaldehyde and sawdust. It featured neglected taxidermied animals. I had … quite a few classes there, and so did a lot of my friends. We called it Funky Hall. It’s due to be razed sometime soon. (It is, in my estimation, on the list that need to go, but not at the top of the list. But that’s a discussion for another day.)

George Petrie, history professor, father of Auburn football, author of the Auburn creed. Man about town.

He worked on campus in varying roles from 1887 until his retirement in 1942. I wonder what happened to all of those books after that.

Petrie Hall was opened in 1939 as the athletics field house. Over the years it has had some academic uses, but has largely been administrative. Now it holds some athletics offices and storage. It’s a small building, in the shadow of the football stadium. How it has survived the march of progress I do not know, but I’m glad to see. I’m sure the name above the door has been a part of that.

John Wilmore would like you to hurry up with your little photograph, so he can get back to the important work of deaning.

Educated at Purdue, Wilmore spent 55 years at Auburn, and was dean from 1907 until 1943, during which time the engineering program went from 20 students to around 900. It’s one of the biggest, most prized, most valuable elements of campus today. Wilmore also served on that three-person committee with Brook. The Wilmore Engineering Laboratories building, a 65,000-square-foot facility, houses the academic offices for materials engineering, and office space for all sorts of engineers.

Major Gustav H. Franke led the ROTC program. He was a star on the West Point polo team way back when. The Army lifer was an artilleryman by trade. He’d commanded the first U.S. unit to fire on German forces in World War I. So you know no one tried to pull campus pranks on this guy.

This was his last year on campus. When World War II came he found himself commanding the Field Artillery Replacement Center at Fort Bragg, and eventually artillery for the whole 6th Infantry Division. He also led the 81st Infantry Division at Fort Rucker (the modern Fort Novosel) and was largely responsible for the buildup of that installation. He would retire a major general in 1944. Both his son and grandson would later serve as army officers.

First it was a department, but it became the School of Architecture, or Architecture and Applied Arts, under Frederic Biggin’s guidance, a man so well-respected still respected well enough that they use his name for high-dollar donors. His house, a Dutch Colonial Revival that is on the historic register, has been gifted to the school for meetings and classes. A New Yorker, he was on campus from 1916 until his death in 1943. He had a daughter, and she had two children who have passed away in recent years. They all stayed in the area.

He would never see it, but there’s a building, right on the corner where town and gown meet, named in his honor. It opened in 1951 as the College of Architecture, Design and Construction, but has been home to the Department of Art and Art History for some time. The university notes that the building’s “most prominent feature is a wall of windows facing north on Magnolia Avenue to let in abundant natural light favored by architects and artists.” At one point, the story went, the wife of a university president had a bunch of tall shrubs and trees installed so she wouldn’t have to see that building when she went by.

Shows what I know. Zoe is a popular name in this century, but the Greeks used it, too. I just learned that, reading up on Zoe Dobbs, who started at API as a professor of English and education in 1920. Later that decade she became the social director, and before long they named her the dean of women. She stayed on until retirement in 1952. Soon after, a dormitory was named in her honor, but its gone now. She died, and was buried in neighboring Opelika, in 1973.

Dean Isaac McAdory would like you to not notice his messy desk. He wouldn’t mind, however, if you realized his seat is right next to the radiator, and that his office is so small his plant is behind the radiator.

McAdory was on campus from 1904 until he passed away in 1952. In my time on campus, part of the veterinary facilities were named after him. This was notable to me, as I had also attended McAdory High School. Somewhere along the way I learned that Isaac’s middle name was Sadler. Two miles from my childhood home, and about that same distance from my school, was the historic Sadler house, pen log house done up in the Georgian style. It wasn’t until much later that I put the rest of this together, but the owner of that house was Isaac’s maternal grandfather. I wonder how much time he spent in that house. My high school, which opened in 1920, is named after his father, Isaac Wellington McAdory, who became a teacher soon after he mustered out of the Civil War.

John Scott would like you to know that he is so studious he has a special book on a special stand. He can leaf through it at anytime, and it’s got a look that suggests it was being used just enough. I wonder what that book was.

He’s about midway through his time on campus here, working through the economics department from 1927 through the mid 40s. And this is how you know university life has changed. He was the head of the economics department (which offered 35 courses) and dean of the academic faculty. In 1930 he was the dean of the School of Science and Literature, head professor of Business Administration, head professor of Economics and Sociology, and director of the Bureau of Economic Research.

That’s … a lot.

There was a great story about him in the local papers the next year.

Odd as it may appear, Dr. John W. Scott, dean of Auburn’s school of science and literature has today the experience of legitimately writing a letter to himself.

And even more unusual was the fact the letter had to be of a congratulatory nature, if he was to act in his strict line of duty as a college dean.

You see, it was this way: The name of his attractive daughter, Eleanor Lucile Scott, Auburn sophomore in science and literature, appeared on the list which came to him of students whose scholarship average for the first semester was 90 per cent or above. Miss Scott averaged 91.45 in her eight subjects.

Ten years ago when Dr. Scott came to Auburn from Oklahoma A. & M., he initiated the practice of writing personal letters of congratulations to parents of Auburn students who averaged 90 or better in their studies.

“Writing these letters to parents is one of my most pleasant duties,” said Dean Scott, “and I’m glad that Eleanor has placed me in this ’embarrassing’ position. I hope she does it again.”

Cliff Hare doesn’t know why you’re here, and thinks you should probably be over in one of the chem labs, working on your practicals.

By this point Hare had been on campus for 40 years. He would stay on the faculty for another 13 years. He was on the first football team, in 1892. If you watch Auburn play a football game, you’re watching in the stadium named after him. He was also president of the Southern Conference for a time. Also, he designed the first local golf course, helped the baseball program get off the ground, ran a local bank for 34 years, served on the city council, and as interim mayor. He also helped established a local medical clinic for people in the town. People sing his praises a great deal, but he’s still probably undersold for his importance.

This is one of the few people in this list I didn’t know anything about. Dana Gatchell was a professor of foods and nutrition. She was on the faculty for more than 30 years, retiring in 1956. In the university’s collection is a scrapbook she made that included pictures of the beds of royalty and aristocrats from Europe, and her notes on the development of bed styles from the 16th through the 19th century. What a great area of study!

She wrote several cookbooks, and collected them as well. She also wrote books titled Handbook of Menu Planning, Know Your Table Linen and Laces, and Know Your Tableware. She passed away in 1960.

You have to have a certain kind of confidence and swagger to make your way through this modern world with a name like Zebulon. You take one look at this man, and you know he had it in spades.

Judd was the school of education’s first dean. He was there for 40 years. The original purpose of the education program was to offer courses to people studying agricultural education. He died in 1960, at 83.

After the deans come the class photos. And at the front of each section is a photo of the snappily dressed class officers. Let’s wrap this post up by finding out a little about these seniors.

John Rush is the class president, and the guy on the far right, here. He was from Mobile, and majored in aeronautical engineering. He became a naval aviator. He died far too young, just before his 27th birthday, in June of 1941. He was conducting a test flight of the Curtiss SNC-1 Falcon when he got caught in a squall off Pensacola. He and his co-pilot were killed. Rush was buried at Arlington.

The light-haired guy sitting in the middle is William Fredrick Black. He was from Macon, Georgia and he, too, was studying aeronautical engineering. He was the class vice president. He played football in high school, and football and basketball in college. After he graduated he did six months at the naval base in Pensacola and was moved over to the reserves in 1937. He became a state trooper in Georgia soon after that, one of the first in that state, in fact. He would also be the first Georgia trooper killed in the line of duty, at the end of 1940, when he was just 29 years old. He and his partner stopped a car in north Georgia. Driving that car, which turned out to be stolen, was a man who’d already done three stints in prison. He’d broken out of a Oklahoma jail while awaiting trial on a robbery charge. Black was shot three times and died on his way to the hospital. The shooter was also wounded, but ran into the woods and led hundreds of law enforcement officers on a five-day manhunt. He was executed in 1943. Black was married to Juanita, who never remarried but focused on social work and service. She worked with the WPA, training women to sew parachutes and military uniforms. She apparently knew generals George Patton and Omar Bradley.

In the back is John Prentice Abel, and if that name seems familiar you were paying careful attention earlier. He was a senior from Roselle Park, N.J., studying mechanical engineering. He was the class historian, and he also appears on the In Memoriam page that we saw above. Abel died two months before his 21st birthday, just a few months before this book was released. He’d been riding in a car in Georgia and that car collided with a truck. It was December, I assume he was traveling home for the winter break.

That square-jawed man on the far left is James Moreman, a business student from Waverly, and secretary of the senior class. After graduation he went to work for General Motors in Birmingham. Like a lot of men his age, he found himself called to active duty. He was a captain in the army by 1943, and had been at Fort Bragg, Fort Sill, and Camp Clark, in Texas. In 1944 he was a major, and sent to Europe. The newspaper clippings tell us he was in the ETO for 18 months before returning home in September of 1945. It seems he and his young family bounced around the state a little bit before settling in the Birmingham area around 1950 or so. He was the commanding officer of an army induction station there until about 1951. He was active in the Civitan Club. Moreman worked as an accountant and controller for a truck leasing company. In 1975 James Moreman died, at 60, in Huntsville, survived by his wife and three adult daughters, a son, and six grandchildren.

Next week, we’ll take a look at a few of their classmates.

All of this will wind up in the Glomerata section (eventually). You can see others, here. Or maybe you’d like to click through to see all the covers. The university hosts their collection here.


3
Sep 26

The 1926 Glomerata, part two

We return to the dusty old pages of old yearbooks. This is a quick tour, where we are spending just two weeks on this particular year. The photography is a bit limited, but there are great stories, so we’ll wrap up 1926 in this large batch before moving on to another book next week. Enjoy a few pretty pictures from the Plains. (See part one here.)

These were, as we learned last week, troublesome days on campus. The university president, a man named Spright Dowell, wasn’t viewed as particularly effective. The university was about to celebrate its 70th anniversary, but the buildings needed work, the faculty needed raises, the sports programs were all struggling. and the university needed some actual respect from the state. It’s a persistent tale, particularly in those early years. The students hanged him in effigy.

Curiously, people seemed to like him as an individual, but didn’t seem to think much of his job performance. The newspaper editorials were unsparing, and they took turns at pointing at all of these problems and more. Of course, one of the newspaper bigwigs was on the board of the university. The ties and tendrils were everywhere, as they always are. Dowell knew the score, at least somewhat. He pointed to the athletics issues. He mentioned, the next fall, that perhaps he could have spent some more time being a man of the people. Perhaps he had in mind here his predecessor, who was well liked. Instead, Dowell said, he chose to spend his time focusing on the money problems. Certainly, when he said that, he had a lot of influential people in mind. Weeks after he said it, and before this book was terribly out of date, he would resign from the university. His tenure would end after seven trying years. He became the president of Mercer University the next year, where he’d stay for 15 years. But this isn’t about him. It’s about what’s inside this book, a handsomely produced, 375-page piece of history.

We wrapped up last week with the athletics section of the century-old book. The next few pages showed the “Beauties.” These women don’t always show up in other areas of the annual. In some editions they seem to just be local people. They were selected for this by Florenz Ziegfield Jr., the director of the Ziegfield Follies, which was still a cultural high water mark for the country.

I’ve not yet found the rhyme or reason for how all of that worked, other than Ziegfield liked the photos they sent him. Also, these women can sometimes be difficult to trace if they took their husband’s name in public mentions. If nothing else, we can get a glimpse of the hair and some of the clothing styles of the day.

Nell Thomas, for instance. I believe she was from Montgomery. She might have been the daughter of a prominent appellate judge. (But even there following her digital trail gets fuzzy.)

Bertrice Black was from Birmingham. She would get married in 1927 or thereabouts. Her husband would become an accountant, and served as a captain in the army during WW2. They had one daughter. Bertrice, sometimes, or at least later, it was Beatrice, died in 1977 at age 73.

Eula Martin is a name that feels so incredibly familiar I’ve spent the last few minutes trying to figure out if I’ve ever written about her before. I have not. Clearly, though, she had a thing for flappers and fur. Also this is one of the most soft-focused photos in the book. (I happen to be an expert on fuzzy focus.) She attended Howard College, the modern Samford University. She was a dancer. And this seems to be a photo that became her promotional headshot. Martin, or someone with the same name, was quite active in the social pages of the late 1920s. She came from a family that had lived in the state when it was still a territory. She wrote poetry. Throughout her long life she would join all of the important social and community organizations that a woman of her stature should maintain. She would marry — 99 years ago today — a man that we’ll meet in just a moment. They had a son. She passed away at 90, in 1995.

Martha Porter likewise doesn’t show up elsewhere in the Glom. She was from Tuscumbia, in the northwestern corner of the state. She became a teacher in a little town on the Tennessee River. She got married the next year to a Bama grad. He was a roofer and would eventually become the president of that local firm. He died in 1970, she lived until 1993. She lived in Florida for several decades. They had one daughter, a woman who passed away just a few years ago, who has a lovely obituary.

Elizabeth Chester just looks here like a silent movie starlet. She’s from Atlanta. She’s not otherwise in the Glom. I can’t find anything about her for certain.

And this is Margaret Whittle. She’s from Atlanta. If you know anything about her, pass it on.

Good as it is, the problem with books of this particular vintage is that the casual photos are almost always small. Usually they are of spotty quality. The equipment available to a poor college campus might not have been the best. Or maybe its the photographs. Perhaps my limited digitization. Whoever we blame, and blame me, the few pages of casual campus life all look like this, and if you get cutlines they are usually short on details that help us find out more about the people in them.

You see some fans here, some sort of band thing, a line where students wait patiently in line to register for classes, and two shots of the Wreck Tech parade, which was part of the festivities before the Georgia Tech football game. (It was the final game of the year, in November, in Atlanta. The good guys lost.)

There’s a section called Death, and it’s filled with poems and prose and jokes that probably made sense to the 21-year-olds who were already feeling nostalgic, but most of it is lost to us as personal reference. There’s some fun art in there, filling up the space, though. This took up a full page. Some of it looks like campus, some of it doesn’t seem familiar at all.

We have a rule that we always show the bikes that wind up in the Glom. Apparently that applies to the ones that are drawn, as well.

They look almost as cool as the real thing, anyway.

Here’s another one of those little marginalia doodles that is destined to become some sort of clip art around here.

This is the staff that put together the book. The business manager is Ben Screws Gilmer, of Montgomery, who was a senior studying electrical engineering. He’d worked on the Glom for two years. The blurb by his portrait in the class section recalls him as a gentleman, a conscientious student, and “As to him being a ladies man, we take great pleasure in referring you to Atlanta.”

Perhaps he was legendary.

He went to work at Bell System right after graduation, starting as an installer. Phones, wires, poles, I don’t know, but he did that for a month and then went into the company’s leadership training course. That was a wise choice by the company and him. He found his way into marketing and development, and then into regulatory work. He served in the U.S. Army Air Corps during World War 2, rising to the rank of lieutenant colonel. He returned to Southern Bell, became an assistant vice president and, before long, was running much of the phone company’s business in nine states. He also worked for Northwestern Bell, Pacific Telephone, and, eventually AT&T, where in 1967, he became the president of the company. He also served as either director, chairman of the board, or trustee of more than thirty civic and charitable organizations. The university gave him an honorary doctorate in the 1950s. In 1975, he was inducted into the Alabama Academy of Honor by the state legislature. He is similarly honored in the Alabama Business Hall of Fame and the Alabama Engineering Hall of Fame. His industry peers in Georgia would likewise honor him. All of that started right here. He and his wife had a daughter. When he died, at 98 in 2004, he also had two grandchildren and two great-grandchildren.

The editor was Charles Snook, a senior architecture major from Birmingham. Snook was in all of the leadership organizations on campus, it seems. He was also an ROTC captain. Who knows when he had time to attend class. Later, he served as a commander in the Navy. In his professional life he went to back to the Birmingham suburbs and worked as an architect. Snook was vice president of the local chapter of the American Institute of Architects and worked on at least one of those downtown revitalization projects that are necessary from time to time. I can’t readily find a list of his projects, to confirm it, but the odds are very, very good I know of some of his work, if I’ve not been in the actual buildings he designed — albeit decades later, of course. He had one son, who became a reverend, as did one of his five grandchildren. He died in 1973.

The art editor is William Sandifer, a senior from Mississippi who was also studying architecture. He was another prominent campus leader. Part of his yearbook blurb jokes that he majored in letter writing and minored in sleeping during class hours. And this was one of the men who helped design the Empire State Building, the World’s Fair, and several U.S. embassies. He’d served in the Army Corps of Engineers during the war, mustered out as a colonel, with Manila as his last duty station. In 1947 he and his wife purchased a huge, renowned ranch in Colorado, Greystone. He died in 1986, at 85.

Here’s the campus paper. I’d work there decades later, and didn’t give the first thought to the existence of any of these people, because I was 19 or 20 at the time, just like some of these people. They turned a post-game extra 15 minutes after the game was over using 1920s technology. That’s impressive in any era.

Jasper F. Thompson was another electrical engineering major from Birmingham. “Fritz,” it says here, “is a likeable cuss — always jolly, never worries and has a good word for everyone. The best ‘ain’t’ too good for him.” He worked as an executive with the Red Cross, pretty much running things across the southeast. He’d lived in Georgia for almost two decades, while his brother and his father were judges in Alabama. When he died, of a heart attack, in 1960 he and his wife had two adult children, a daughter and son.

Edward Donald Ball was the managing editor. Apparently he dosed off in classes. He caught on at the old Birmingham Age-Herald after school. He worked around the southeast, and in New York before the war. E.D., as he was known, would become a significant European war correspondent. Back home, he ran the Tennessee bureau of the Associated Press office. He worked for the AP for 31 years. He lost a young son, aged 18, in 1951. In 1959 he became editor of the Nashville Tennessean. He died in Georgia, at 88, in 1992. He was survived by his wife and a daughter.

William Horton was an engineering major from Virginia. He played football for three years, and was the sports editor of the paper. He was also an editor of a specialty engineering publication. They called him “the preacher, the philosopher, and the journalist of the Civil Engineers.” He’s difficult to trace definitively after college, however.

I’m assuming this was just yearbook art, but it also looks like a great poster. Illustrators could make some lovely work given the styles of the day.

Here’s the radio club, which is part of a fascinating little history at Auburn. I’ve written about it several times in a few places over the years. It was the early days of the technology, and these were days of important transitions with the technology on campus. By this point they had a handful of radio telegraph sets, and a radio phone. They could send a signal a good distance at night, but it was especially limited during the daytime. The hand-me-down gear was still serving the farmers who could hear the signal. The university had been a pioneer in the field in 1912 and 1913, but decisions had to be made about the future. And these guys were watching.

In 1925 WMAV would close its doors. This was a part of necessary upgrades. They built a 200-foot transmitter tower just south of campus. There were actually two stations working from campus after that. In February of 1926, probably just before this yearbook was released, WAPI took to the air for the first time. Many decades later, I broadcast on WAPI early in my professional broadcasting career.

One of these 1926 guys, as we learned last week, went to work for the American Telephone and Telegraph Company. He was a natural. Louis Howle was sending messages to stations in California so rapidly they couldn’t decipher his dots and dashes. J.M. Wilder ran the old WMAV when it came back to the students, from Birmingham, in the year prior.

John McCaa had a great live broadcast moment earlier this year.

(O)ne night we had a request for a popular number. Everyone could play it, but no one knew the words . I was selected to sing the words, so 1 propped the music up in a chair where I could read the words while playing. Everything was going fine till, when about half through, a strong breeze came through the windows and blew the music across the room. I just broke out laughing as did the others. The confusion lasted for about five minutes before we got back to playing again. Our mail from that program was more than usual, and of all things, people asked us to repeat that program as they had enjoyed our “skit.”

A few years after this someone conducted a a survey of land-grant schools that had gotten into broadcasting. A lot of them got out — poor financing, poor gear, low power, programming and technical difficulties. Auburn was one of those that stuck with it, though the people working in this area would do it with some miseries. By the end of the decades the second boom period of broadcasting at Auburn was waning. Sports were proving to be the only thing that could keep and captivate listeners. There were also all sorts of problems with frequency hopping. And then came the rise of the networks.

I’m glad they stuck with it. The radio that I knew, which would be all but unrecognizable to all of those men in the photo above, was one important part of my student experience.

All of these will wind up in the Glomerata section (eventually). You can see others, here. Or maybe you’d like to click through to see all the covers. The university hosts their collection here.