MY YEAR AT LINFIELD COLLEGE
Looking back fifty years at this particular year in my life (1939-40) I have mixed feelings. It meant a return to college, and thus another step toward the achievement of my goal of a college education. I also must confess that I didn't make the best use of that year of school, and made some serious mistakes. That was one year I wish I could live again!
As I described in the previous chapter, some of my CCC friends saw me off on the train at Belton. It was late in the afternoon, almost supper time. I was too excited to worry about eating. I had checked my foot locker through as baggage, and had only my very large (and cheap) suitcase with me in the coach car. The bag went up overhead all right, and I settled down to watch the landscape. The country through which the train was going was very new to me.
After some time, mostly spent looking at mountains and trees, I dozed off and awoke as we were pulling into Spokane, Washington. Here I had an hour lay-over, as I had to change to a different railroad. I remember putting my suitcase in a locker in the Great Northern station, then going out for a walk in the night. It was about midnight when I strolled up over the Division Street Bridge, and looked at the city and the river. It was a quiet, cool night in mid-September, and there was little traffic. I remember seeing the stars reflected in the river. I noticed the lights on a tall building--the ONB building, as indicated by a large sign--though I didn't know what those letters meant.
Back to the depot, and then on board the new train, I again settled down to try to get some sleep. I was pretty nervous, afraid that someone would get my luggage, and wondering how I would get out to McMinnville from Portland. The map showed a distance of about fifty miles, and there was no railroad running out that way. Early in the morning I awoke, and went to the men's restroom at the front of the car, to shave. That was difficult to do, what with the swaying and shaking of the train. I was extremely hungry--"ready to eat a horse," as we used to say. I decided to go to the dining car and have breakfast; hang the cost! I didn't have much money, but had to eat.
I made my way back toward the rear of the train, going through other passenger coaches, and then through some Pullman cars, before I came to the diner. When I arrived, I was dismayed to see that all the tables were occupied. I was about to turn around and go back to my seat when a kindly looking man and his wife saw me, and invited me to share their table. It didn't take me long to accept the invitation!
I soon found out that the man was Doctor Pollard, a teacher of religion subjects at Linfield! I told them that Linfield was where I was heading, and asked all sorts of questions about the college. It was very encouraging to talk with them. They also assured me that in Portland I could easily catch a bus out to McMinnville, and told me how to get to the campus from the bus station. That was the first time I had eaten in a train dining car. I was properly shocked at the cost of that meal--something over three dollars, if I remember right. However, the coffee was thick and strong, and the eggs well done. I was very happy and satisfied.
While we were eating, we went past Bonneville Dam, and my eyes bulged, I am sure, as I gazed at it. I had worked at Fort Peck Dam, and had seen some big concrete structures, but nothing like Bonneville! I still like to look at that dam whenever we drive past it, as it brings back memories of that green college boy and his breakfast in the dining car.
Very soon, it seemed to me, we pulled into Portland, and I left the Pollards. I rounded up my two heavy pieces of luggage, the foot locker and suitcase, and walked the several blocks to the Greyhound Depot. There I caught a bus out to McMinnville. I got off at the bus depot, though I learned later that the bus passed along the edge of the campus as it left town. I could have asked to be dropped off there. As it was, I had a half mile or so to walk, carrying the luggage.
I remember that walk well. My foot locker seemed to weigh a ton or more, and I was very warm. I was wearing my raincoat, since I had both hands full with the locker and suitcase. Signs at intervals along the street pointed toward the college, so I had no trouble finding the school. There were a few students walking around, and someone directed me to the administration building. The campus was beautiful, with lots of green grass, and many huge old oak trees scattered around. There were roses still in bloom, and other flowers, as well. The buildings looked very good, though some were obviously old. The whole thing was a bit intimidating. Except for Al Mundhenk, my friend, I didn't know a soul there, and I didn't know where to find Al.
It seemed that the admissions office was all ready for me to arrive. The registrar had me signed up in a few minutes. They directed me to my assigned dorm room in Pioneer Hall, just half a block away. So I picked up my luggage once more, walked over to Pioneer, and climbed the stairs to the third floor. The room was easy enough to find--and large enough, too. I was the sixth person assigned to that room. Two others had already checked in. I found that they were all sophomores, and as a Junior, I could choose my bunk. I chose a lower bunk, in the far left corner of the room, and quickly got settled in. The wash room was down the hall several doors, and the college commons, where we ate our meals (and where I worked some) was on the ground floor.
In 1939, the college had about a thousand students, and a fairly large faculty. There were two large women's dormitories on the campus, and another men's dorm, much newer than Pioneer Hall. Several "Greek" houses-- sororities and fraternities--were scattered in the nearby area, off campus.
One of the first people I met was Zack (I wish I could recall his full name!) who was to be my supervisor in my various jobs around the campus. He was a senior, and a great friend. He was very strong and quick, though inclined to be a bit bossy at times when we fellows got a little rowdy. My courses were very interesting. I had advanced psychology, and later in the year, abnormal psych; a religion course taught by my new friend, Dr. Pollard; organic chemistry; and some courses in sociology. Oh--I had physical education, too, and that was good for me.
Because Al was a member of the Baptist Church, I began to go there to worship. Their church was large and somehow "cold" feeling, and I didn't seem to fit in too well. It wasn't long before I decided to visit the Methodist Church, and found I liked that much better. I became a regular member of the choir, and was active in the Epworth League.
My work on the campus was close at hand, to say the least. The tools I needed were stored in the heating plant, only a few yards from the dormitory. It was a simple matter to go down to the heating plant, to get the tools. I worked two or three afternoons a week, cleaning up the leaves that were just beginning to fall, and learning to prune roses to prepare them for winter. One day I was pruning the rose plants in front of the music hall when I noticed many students going into the building. I asked someone what was going on, and learned that they were going to a cappella choir auditions. I had already heard that it was very difficult to get into the choir, so hadn't really thought much about it. When my friend Al Mundhenk came by, and urged me to go in for an audition, I decided to try it! Lo and behold, I was accepted, and placed in the baritone section. That choir was the highlight of my whole year at Linfield. I had to rearrange my work schedule some, because we rehearsed three times a week, in the afternoon. It meant that I had to work a few hours most Saturdays, and some in the evenings, but the choir was so much fun it was worth it. Our director was "Ma" Elliott, the finest choir director I have ever known. She directed with her hands, no arm waving or other signals, except perhaps her facial expressions. I was fortunate in having a good ear for music in those days, and could quickly learn new songs. Everything we worked on had to be memorized in the first two rehearsals. It was wonderful experience, and gave me a life-long appreciation for a cappella singing, which is probably the most difficult of all group singing. It was a wonderful organization, and everyone had fun, while working very hard.
So many memories come crowding back I hardly know what to put down here. I did enjoy and look forward to the chapel services, held twice each week. We often had very entertaining speakers, very thought-provoking. I was reading a lot (as I've done all my life) in my spare time, and often found my thinking challenged.
I particularly enjoyed the course in organic chemistry, which ran through the whole year. Because I had achieved high grades in chemistry at Northern Montana College, and did well right away in organic, I became a member of the national chemistry honor society.
In the spring, when the weather warmed up a bit, I took tennis for physical ed. I had played tennis at NMC, so thought I knew the basics of the game. At Linfield I found that I really knew next to nothing! There were many excellent players, both men and women, and I loved to watch them play though I couldn't begin to compete with the better players.
My particular handball partner and tennis mate in PE was a Chinese boy named Eddie Liu. We had great times together, were pretty evenly matched. He came from a very wealthy family in China. One day Eddie asked me if I liked to play chess. I had learned just a smattering of chess while in the CCC's in Glacier Park, and liked the game. So I quickly took him up on his invitation to come up to his room in the dormitory to play chess one evening. I'll never forget those chess men! He had the most exquisite set I ever hope to see. The "whites" were of carved ivory, the king and queen about eight inches tall. All the pieces, even the pawns, had delicately carved faces. The "blacks" were of carved jade--beautiful, translucent green jade--and matched the ivory set in size and careful carving. I am sure the set was worth many thousands of dollars, even in those days in the 1930's. We played often with those precious things, and were good friends.
Early in the winter, Al suggested to me that we conduct special chapel services one evening a week, for the benefit of any students who might like to come. A young lady, Mary Louise Tannehill, of Billings, was available to help us. She played the piano for the singing, which Al led, while I often read Scripture and led in the prayers. We had many of those simple little meetings, with a small but faithful group of students attending. I am amazed now, to look back on those meetings. Surely God had a hand in them! I know now that I was not really a Christian, yet I truly enjoyed having a part.
Late in the fall the Epworth League had a party at the parsonage of the Methodist Church. I remember that there was a large turnout. Among other activities, we played table tennis in the basement. Somehow I managed to strike my hand against the edge of the table, and got a huge sliver driven into the thick of my right thumb. It was very painful. Most of the others just stood around and felt sorry for me. One girl, who lived there with the minister's family, came right over, got the sliver out of my hand, and applied bandages, etc., to stop the bleeding. She was very kind and friendly.
Up to that point I had noticed her, but hadn't given her much attention. Things changed after that! She was two or three years older than I, and came from Portland. Her folks were friends of the pastor and his wife; that was how she came to be living there. She was a freshman that year, and wasn't at all sure just why she was there in school, anyway. To make the story shorter, we fell in love! After that I spent many hours at the parsonage. The pastor had always seemed reserved and stand-offish to me until then, but we became good friends. His wife was a friendly lady, too. They often invited me to eat Sunday dinner with them, and I enjoyed that. I'm sorry to say that I lost far too much study time the rest of the year, walking clear across town from the campus to the parsonage, and going on long walks with that wonderful girl. We saw too much of each other, I know; it wasn't good, though at the time it seemed like paradise. She and her parents were very good to me, on a couple of week-ends, and in the first weeks of the following summer, when I was broke and had no money, they put me up for three or four weeks.
Back to school! In mid-December the choir began to do a series of concerts, in McMinnville, nearby towns, and in Portland. I think we did four or five. Also, we sang with the college orchestra, presenting the Messiah oratorio. That was my introduction to that wonderful music. I've had a lasting interest in it every since, and have often sung in it in churches and with civic choral groups and orchestras.
Christmas came, and most of the students went home. I stayed on campus, partly to work, and partly because I had nothing else to do, or money to spend. I was happy to be back in school after the holidays. We in the choir were still working hard, getting ready for the spring tour.
Meanwhile, I spent an awful amount of time with my girl friend and my studies slipped badly. I was only earning "B's," instead of my usual "A" level. We indulged in some pretty heavy petting, of which I am much ashamed today. It was foolish to get so involved, foolish for both of us, I think.
Finally, about mid-April, the day came when the list of those who were to go on the choir tour appeared on the bulletin board. With many others, I read the list, expecting that my name would be there. But it wasn't! I can remember that moment very clearly. No one said anything to me, though some must have seen me standing there staring at the list. My eyes were full of tears as I turned and walked away. That was surely one of the most bitter disappointments of my life. I spent hours just walking, walking, and wondering why I had been left out.
Finally I went back to the campus. I didn't know how I could face all the others while eating in the commons, but being young and hungry, decided to go to eat. I remember that I went in, and when a girl in the choir saw me, she came running over, all excited. She told me that there had been a mistake made, that the list had been corrected, and my name was now on the list! She had noticed that it wasn't on the first list, and knew that I must feel bad about it. I could scarcely believe it, but was glad to hear. Later the director personally apologized to me, and everything was OK again. Somehow, though, it left a permanent memory.
I went on that tour, and had a great time. As I remember, there were about forty choir members, and two or three musicians who played solos or took part in instrumental numbers. We toured old Fort Steilacoom, near Tacoma, and saw the beautiful new Tacoma Narrows Bridge that collapsed a year or two later in a violent wind. We saw the beautiful volcanic mountains--Saint Helens, Hood, Ranier and Glacier Peak. We saw the great sprawling paper mills at Vancouver, and smelled the smell! We sang as we went, sang in churches and schools, even sang in the homes in which we stayed. It was a grand tour. Right after the tour we had our chance to "do our thing" at the Music Box Theater in Portland, singing with the Portland Symphony.
Then there was the earthquake! I was a very sound sleeper in those days. One night there was an earthquake, or maybe a series of shocks. Everyone in the dorm woke up, someone warned that we should all get out of the dorm, and all but one did. I slept through it all! When I awoke, I saw that all my books had fallen off my desk, right beside my bed. Big chunks of plaster had fallen from the ceiling to the floor. There was no one else in the room, and I couldn't imagine what had happened. It was only when I went down to breakfast that I found out about the earthquake! I was kidded a lot about being such a sound sleeper.
That was in the spring of the year. Graduation came, and I was happy to see my friend Al graduate. Now he was ready to go on to medical school; he had already applied and been accepted in a school in Portland. The students scattered out to their homes. I--what could I do? I didn't have even enough money to go back home to Montana. Sadly I packed up my clothes and books, and accepted my girl friend’s invitation to come to her home in Portland to stay until I could find work. It was embarrassing, but the only thing I could do, so I accepted.
That was the end of my year at Linfield. Everyone in the whole school, faculty and students alike, had been very kind to me, and for that I feel I owe a great debt. I didn't return to the campus until many years later, in about 1982. Pioneer Hall, where my room had been in 1938, was still in use, now as a women’s residence hall, though many of the other buildings were changed. The old oak tree out in front of Pioneer was still there, too, though one of its great limbs had been cut away long ago. Mistletoe still grows in the oaks, and is popular, I'm sure, with the fellows and girls who attend there today.