My Life
in Review: Have I been Lucky or What?
My Life
in Review: Have I been Lucky or What?
In the fall of 1948 Brockport State Teachers College, one of eight such institutions in The State University of New York, had an enrollment of 1250 students. At that time its mission was confined to preparing elementary teachers and physical education mentors for elementary and high school. The postwar period had seen fairly rapid growth with returning G.I.'s forming a large and prominent segment of the student body. The faculty, organized in multi-disciplinary departments—Education, English and Foreign Language, Fine and Industrial Arts, Physical Education, Science and Mathematics, Social Studies and The Campus School—numbered fifty with fifteen new appointments.
The Social Studies Department boasted five stalwart mentors: Chairman Dr. Bill Edwards, Dr. Art Lee, Dr. George Queen and yours truly. Edwards taught the political science courses. Lee and Queen socialized in European History, Dedman in American and I handled sociology. All except Edwards shared lectures and recitation sections in the Freshman course, "Introduction to Social Science." That offering featured one weekly plenary session, a lecture in the auditorium, and two meetings of the recitation sections per week. All except the chairman were responsible for five classes (fifteen semester hour loads).
My departmental colleagues proved to be helpful and supportive in launching me on the seas of college pedagogy, especially Wayne Dedman. A bright scholar and sparkling teacher he took me under his wing, sharing syllabi, course outlines and other teaching materials and discussing tactics and strategies. All except Bill Edwards had offices in Building I where they formed a congenial group in that rather primitive educational edifice which was only a slight advance in educational architecture over the basic teaching triangle of the famous "Mark Hopkins, a student and a log."
Since my appointment came only two weeks before the opening of the fall semester I spent a feverish fortnight preparing syllabi and course outlines and searching for living quarters. Eager to settle in I impetuously rented a small second-floor apartment in a very modest house. When I took Jill to see it, a far cry from our diggings in Attica, she immediately discerned that its cramped dimensions would not accommodate our Governor Winthrop desk and several other pieces of our furniture which we were reluctant to give up. I conveyed that information to the owner, Mrs. Thomas, who graciously refunded the down payment. We were unable to find anything suitable before school opened.
At the first faculty meeting I met Dr. George Queen for the first time. He had just returned from his summer place in the hills above Wyoming. When he learned that we had not found a place he told me that he was remodeling the second floor of his duplex on Kenyon Street, right across from the campus, that it would be available in about a month and if we wanted it we could move in with a monthly rental of fifty dollars. It had a good-sized front bedroom, a central living room with a southern exposure, a modern kitchen and pantry as well as a separate entrance. We accepted his offer.
So the month of September found me commuting daily from Attica—a pleasant hour drive. I found that hour to be a functional prelude to the eight o'clock classes and a time for a meditative review of the day's agenda on the return trip. Our remote residence did delay our entering Brockport's social life but Jill, self-conscious about her pregnant condition, was not eager to participate and I was too preoccupied with class preparations to attend any social functions beyond The New Students' Reception, a formal affair.
Early in October, as George Queen had promised, our apartment became available. Freshly painted and papered in bright, warm colors with refinished, wide-plank floors it presented an inviting appearance. We were able to use all of our furniture which fitted happily into the attractive decor. We were even able to use our venetian blinds. We were located just across the street from the campus only about a hundred yards from my new work place, Building I.
Our new address, 30-A Kenyon Street, became our residence for the next two years. It was destined to be gobbled up by the physical expansion of the College. Drake Memorial Library rose up in that location and when the new Drake Library was built in the late sixties across the tracks and much further west the older edifice became The Center for Student Services. In the mid-eighties The Center was christened The Harold Rakov Center for Student Services, memorializing one of Brockport's finest administrators, great teachers and one of my closest friends. Interestingly enough the Rakov family had occupied the other side of the Queen duplex in the academic years 1949-50 and '50-51.
I enjoyed the teaching tremendously. Returned G.I.'s dominated the sociology course for physical education seniors and proved to be some of the best students I ever had. The only negative aspect of that course was its meeting time, 11:30-12:40 Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. The Saturday session made for a short weekend but the attractiveness of the class nullified that drawback.
The Introduction to Social Science course gave me the opportunity to lecture before a large group—four hundred—and my colleagues in the department. The rotation of lecturers meant that each of us would mount the podium every fourth week. I vividly recall my initial effort—the topic, "The Changing American Family." I worked on it for days, cramming copious data from several sources into a comprehensive outline. I had so much material and the outline was so extensive that I was forced to race through it to complete the coverage in one hour. A couple of years later that outline became the syllabus for a full semester course!
Early in the second semester I had the opportunity to develop an elective course, "Social Institutions," for the honors students. They were challenging but kind to a neophyte instructor. All ten of them went on to successful careers as teachers and administrators—one became a college president, another a priest.
January also brought a chance to develop forensic skills in a public debate. The faculty sponsored a series of public lectures and debates on current issues once a month on Sunday afternoon. The January topic, "Compulsory National Health Insurance," was a hot issue with such legislation pending in Congress as a prime goal in the Truman Administration's program. Wayne Dedman knew that I had written a term paper on that subject at Cornell and insisted that I represent the "pro" position. This meant that I would be pitted against the President of the Rochester Chapter of the American Medical Association. The AMA violently opposed National Health Insurance (they called it "Socialized Medicine") and had successfully blocked it over the years.
With Wayne as Moderator the debate proceeded in a gentlemanly and good-humored manner before a mixed crowd of "town and gown" (Brockport residents and College faculty). Wayne tactfully pronounced it a "draw" handing out equally favorable compliments to both speakers. As far as the audience was concerned I believe that those who favored National Health Insurance thought my arguments more persuasive while those who opposed such legislation found the doctor's arguments more convincing. In any event I gained valuable experience in public speaking and some confidence in appearing on a forensic platform.
Building
I
A description of the Social Studies Department would not be complete without giving some attention to our physical setting—Building I ("The Hall of Social Science"). This barracks-like structure contained four classrooms and offices for all except the chairman. Wayne's and my offices, formerly closets, flanked the central foyer. The building had no telephones and only one "John" (John Crandall). The heat, transmitted from the Administration Building, was controlled by a large valve in George's office. To regulate the temperature we had to manipulate the valve by placing a long stick between the spokes of a metal wheel, pushing it counter-clockwise to open and clockwise to close. The temperatures fluctuated between too hot and too cold and the floor temperatures were usually fifteen to twenty degrees cooler than those at the ceiling-level. We knew because we got up on a stepladder and measured them.
Building I was "for the birds." The shallow attic had openings and became the habitat of a few of our feathered friends who flew in and out of the open windows on warm autumn and spring days. But they were not the only distraction. Building Numero Uno sat hard by the tracks of the Rochester-Niagara Falls Division of the NY Central Railroad. With disturbing frequency freight trains came roaring past, their noisy engines and clattering cars drowning out the most stentorian lecturer, creating a hiatus in the lecture and discussions. I used to tell my classes that, instead of getting credit for the three semester hours, the courses held in that edifice would carry two hours credit and one share of stock in the NY Central. I also dubbed the break in the action the answer to Coca Cola's—"Pause that Refreshes" (Coca Cola's patented advertising slogan at that time).
Click here to see a photo of the Brockport campus in 1950.
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