USA > Ohio > Butler County > Oxford > Old Miami, the Yale of the early West > Part 3
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Now there was one very weak spot in young Anderson's armor; and Martin, experienced debater that he was, found it at once.
"The young gentlemen has suggested that we procure a bust of Doctor Bishop for our hall. An excellent idea; very ex- cellent, and in splendid taste. But whom can he have in mind to mould the classic features of the Doctor? As he is weil aware, as all the gentlemen are well aware, America has but one sculptor capable of such a trust-the great Green- ough, of Boston, and he is unfortunately at this time in Italy."
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Probably not one in ten of the gentle- men in question had ever heard of Green- ough, or knew if his habitat was Boston or Bohemia; but when Charles Martin appealed thus to their superior knowl- edge, not one of them would fail. But the future Governor was on his mettle. Jumping. to his feet he assured them in shrill tones that they need not go to Italy or even Massachusetts for their modeler of clay. No farther away than Cincinnati there was-there must be-an artist equal to the task. Some of them had seen his work and knew what perfect like- . nesses he produced. True, the medium was slightly different, but that didn't matter.
"Will the gentleman, then," Martin interposed with a tinge of irony, "kindly inform the society who this local sculp- tor may be, and where his masterpieces are found."
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Anderson flushed. It did seem foolish now at the finish. But he went doggedly on. "I don't know his name, but he's the man who made the wax-works at D'Or- feuille's Museum, and I-" The rest was lost in a shout of laughter, and it was mighty hard for a certain tow-headed freshman to hold back a few big hot tears. When quiet was restored the vote was taken and the original motion carried by a large majority.
Then the prospective politician and a few faithful cronies began to do what should have come at first. They attended to their fences. Governor Anderson has since confessed that his methods on this occasion were decidedly shady, and de- clared that he used such tactics only this once in his career. An opposition party was rallied, not from those who merely wanted a bust, but rather from the large miscellaneous element who for one rea-
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son or another wanted to "bust" Martin. All the youngsters were ready. Martin, they said, was a conceited puppy who tried to patronize people. Some of the older brethren joined in because they had old accounts to settle, and a few came along just to see the fun. Such an at- tendance had never been seen before. Promptly at the call for business a re- consideration was voted and almost with- out debate Erodelphian Hall decided to adorn itself with a plaster bust of Doctor Bishop, the same to be modeled if possi- ble by the unknown Cincinnati wizard who made waxworks for D'Orfeuille's Museum. A committee with Anderson at the head was commissioned to contract for the job.
In a few days the three advanced upon Cincinnati, where they had not a friend or acquaintance to help them out. An- derson as guide and spokesman led his
party direct to the museum, where duty was forgotten in a half hour's joyous con- templation of the world in wax. Then they went at their task. The first guard accosted was a wax one, and they col- lapsed in giggling confusion. They waited till they caught one walking, and were directed to a dingy little office at one side, where a small French person beamed upon them and shrugged friendly shoulders.
"Ze man zat mek ze wax-woork? Non, Non! Zat ees mon grand secret; mon! He ees un miracle, un prodige, un -vat you call gen-i-us! I cannot geef him up! Ze Musee uptown, zey send you here ? Hein?"
With some confusion on their part and many shrugs and grimaces on his, the boys explained the real nature of . their errand.
"Oui, oui, certainement! Ze bosse, ze
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statuette. Zis man he mek you ze won- daireful bosse. Parbleu! Who else should mek you ze bosse? You find heem where ees ze cornair of Feefth Street wiz ze Main Street. Voila! Hees name eet ees Pow-airs, Hiram Pow-airs. Un jeune fils, un gen-i-us! Oui, oui!"
With swelling hearts the trio hurried up the street to the workshop studio of their gen-i-us. In his muddy apron Powers himself met them at the door. This raw Vermont lad, clock-maker's ap- prentice and moulder of waxen images, was at that moment entering upon the career of achievement which was to bless the world with his masterpieces. The creator of the Greek Slave was making his first attempt in clay. He was all the boys had hoped of him, modest, genial and capable. He was willing to under- take the commission and would insure them satisfaction. The clay model would
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cost them one hundred dollars; it could be moulded in plaster for five more. The contract was closed in a jiffy, arrange- ments were made for the artist to study his subject, and the committee strutted toward the canal-boat-the most self- satisfied group of infants the sun shone upon. Thus Hiram Powers entered upon his first remunerative piece of sculpture, preserved in that time-stained plaster cast in Erodelphian Hall.
Along toward 1840 the literary situa- tion began to be complicated somewhat by the appearance of Greek letter frater- nities. Alpha Delta Phi came first, an importation from the east, and after it was well established sub rosa, began a series of free lessons in that subtlest of all arts, college politics. One cold winter morning in '39, both societies awoke to find that these mysterious Greeks, bear- ing gifts of flattery and promise, had es-
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tablished themselves in all the really honorable offices about the halls, and were running things "for the good of the order." There was a rallying of bar- baric hosts, and by the next election time the Alphas were confronted by two iron- clad ordinances-strangely alike-deny- ing membership to every Greek frater- nity man. They quietly gathered their camp-followers about them, retired to their own back-yard, and founded a nice little society among themselves which they christened Miami Hall. They man- aged somehow to get faculty recognition, and three societies sawed the air and talked themselves purple in the face till 1843. Then the hatchet was entombed, the Union and the Miami societies unit- ing in the Miami Union Hall. Erodel- phian and Miami Union have shared the field to this day, excent during the rather brief existence of the Eccriteans.
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Something has been said of unfriendly relations between literary halls and fac- ulty. Very real these appeared through a number of years, and were by no means a matter of jest. They were a favorite topic of conversation, embittered many a student's career, and blighted the admin- istrations of two able and consecrated presidents. All trouble seems to have arisen in the societies themselves through a misconception, or too literal interpreta- tion of their independence. They insisted that a charter from the state rendered their official proceedings as societies im- mune from any outside interference, whether by faculty or trustees. This in- sistence was largely the work of graduate members of the societies, who had, of course, no responsibility to the faculty, but by the old constitutions might sit and vote as active members of the halls when- ever they chose to drop in and exercise
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the privilege. They usually chose about the time they had an ax to grind.
No open break is recorded until Doc- tor Junkin's time. Soon after his arrival, one Dodds, a refractory and entirely un- qualified student not then in college, petitioned for the privilege of graduation. The faculty promptly sat upon him. The matter was appealed to the Board of Trustees. They sat upon him with an equal promptness. The Miami Society, with a fine show of innocence, then gave him a prominent place on the program for their commencement exhibition, an event that in those times overshadowed the graduating exercises themselves. To be sure there was trouble. Anybody but the Miami Hall must have foreseen that. The faculty in a long and formal docu- ment protested against such procedure. Even then the tabooed name appeared in the printed list of speakers, and at the
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proper time two bona fide seniors es- . corted Mr. Dodds to the platform, only to . be publicly and solemnly, if not affection- ately, admonished for their pains. These two also would have been denied degrees, except that they signed complete apol- ogies along about sunrise on Commence- ment morning.
Two things in these apologies catch the eye. One is an early phrasing of chartered independence: they "did not suppose the faculty had a right to inter- fere" with a literary society exhibition. The other breathes the song of everlast- ing youth in its rich suggestion of a melo- dramatic extravagance-which just failed to connect. It quotes rumors of a plot among the seniors of the Hall to tear up their diplomas publicly as they received them on the platform, or at least to cut out one certain signature. Luckily for Doctor Junkin, he was spared this crush- ing humiliation.
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A little later came the Jones case. Jones was usually in disgrace and always on probation, but blest with a thick skin. One morning he asked permission to read in chapel a note concerning the expulsion of a fellow-derelict from his literary society. Doctor Junkin refused until the faculty might act. Next morning Jones took no chances, but marched boldly to the rostrum and sailed in. The Doctor gently but firmly towed him back to port. The faculty lost no more time in taking up the question, and ruled that such literary skeletons should remain quietly in society closets, and not walk abroad disturbing the good humor of the com- munity. Informally they agreed that Jones was a thorn in the flesh and an un- desirable citizen.
The formal ruling was announced in chapel next morning before prayers. The informal one became manifest imme-
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diately after the Amen. For Jones the irrepressible was once more on the plat- form, reading away at the same old soiled manuscript. The president demanded silence. Jones read the louder. The audience became much affected. Groans and cat-calls, cheers and hisses drowned the speaker's words, but he finished the paper and stalked off the rostrum into the great world of business waiting to receive him, unheard but victorious. But all this was only a new symptom of an old dis- ease. It all came out in the faculty clinic that preceded the lad's expulsion. Thus reads the diagnosis:
"A further ground of action in finding this sentence, but whichi its very nature prohibits being published, is that Mr. Jones did very distinctly and repeatedly intimate to the Faculty that he would be sustained by his Society in all that he had done; that he had talked with all, or very
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nearly all, the members since Monday morning, and he knew he would be sus- tained :- thereby obviously intending to intimidate the Faculty with the fear of a general combination to resist."
With the coming of great-hearted Doctor MacMaster, with his scholar's want of tact, societies and faculty settled down to their sweetest, juiciest bone of contention. Every organization in those days delighted to be talked to. No society had blue-blood or recognition with the smart set, unless it had itself learnedly addressed, at least once a year, by some degree-bespangled wise man of the East, on "The Social Significance of Oriental Mysticism" or "Unquestioning Obedi- ence to Properly Constituted Authority -the Real Safeguard of a Republican Government." It was always a moment- ous occasion. The village belles were all there, and in later years came the demure
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young ladies from the female institutions. The members beamed proudly over im- mense rosettes the size of liver-pads, and tried to look unconscious of their pinch- ing boots as they squeaked loudly up and down the aisle. The president of the concern outdid himself in an introduction magnifying the colossal achievements of the speaker of the evening-and invari- ably forgot the distinguished gentleman's name.
Well, each of the halls had one of these dissipations every commencement week and another during the year. Their in- tellectual natures demanded it. The speakers usually were men of real ability and fame, though occasionally they did strike one a bit unsound in his theol- ogy. History records no real blunder of judgment anywhere along the line. But as each side remarked-with one paw on the bone-that didn't matter; it was a
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question of principle. Clearly, everybody who had ever held membership in the hall, and paid his fines and scraped his boots on the doormat, might come in when he chose and cast his vote in electing these speakers. If the faculty had no veto power, any old body might some time be chosen to air his views, orthodox or other- wise, on "Unquestioning Obedience, etc., etc." "Certainly!" remarked the soci- eties, in firm and chilling tones, "and be- cause of our herein-before-mentioned charters from the state, it is none of your cultured business." Then they all took another try at the bone.
Not very dignified, is it, looked at through the vista of three score and ten merry years? But out of such petty bickerings, men tell us, often evolves great history. In this case there were four years of skirmishing. The trustees were summoned as reserves and gave an
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overwhelming decision against the soci- eties. That ought to have been final: trustees conducted the examinations in those days. But these gentlemen were requested to assume a position of inert suspension right beside the faculty. In solid and offended majesty they turned upon their teaching staff. "Why, bless me, professor, mercy on me," they wheezed, "you must chastize these impu- dent rascals, you must indeed! And soundly, too, very soundly!" And the fight went cheerily on.
Apparently nobody thought, at the time, of the possibility of having these boasted charters revoked. Nobody thought, either, of cutting former students out of active membership in the halls. Bothı parties continued giving up their peace and happiness for principle, until the division had entered into the little faculty itself, and the prejudice had arisen which
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colored every action of the president, and biased students ere they set foot in Ox- ford. The Snow Rebellion drifted in, with its ugly contentions, and the severing of friendly associations. Then at last, one day in 1849, Ardivan W. Rodgers, charter member of Phi Delta Theta and secretary of Erodelphian Hall, quietly submitted to the professors the society's appointment for anniversary speaker and politely requested their approval. They gasped and promptly granted the re- quest, wishing for the society a long-con- tinued career of prosperity. The raven croaked and the gray wolf howled as the moon rose over the battle-field. But the fight was over.
Pray do not imagine that throughout their whole career these societies have continued daring the faculty to tread on their coat-tails. The little period of con- tention is almost lost to view amid the
years and years of cordial co-operation and zealous effort. Even in the contro- versy, for all its unpleasant features, there was experience and growth. The very key to existence in the literary hall is strife and rivalry, the mimic warfare that makes ready for the battle of life. Somebody is always getting angry, only to be laughed back to a grudging sense of his own hot-headedness. Those old meet- ing-rooms are alive with reminiscences, all too many for a tale like this, of the jovial wit-combats of other days. One example will have to serve.
Ben Harrison, the nation's Ben, was an everlasting student when in college; but despite his seriousness gave the im- pression of extreme youth. One night he was lined up with some young colleagues in defense of a measure, and was much in- censed when an opponent spoke con- temptuously of these "callow youths who
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would know more when they were older." Ben bided his time. Next Friday after- noon his crowd was due for declamations. They took two turns at their meetings then, you know; miscellaneous speeches in the afternoon, debate by candle-light. Harrison was called on first. He took a position squarely in front of his former opponent, stretched to his full five feet six, and gave with much feeling Pitt's reply to Walpole-"The atrocious crime of being a young man I shall attempt neither to palliate nor deny." One after another the youngsters took their places, each one on the same spot and with the same speech. The house was hysterical when they finished, and impromptus were called for. At once a little shock-headed urchin, smallest and youngest in the hall, and a frat brother of Ben's, leaped to his feet and finished the audience by piping out once more the familiar lines.
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Of course there were the Greek frater- nities claiming the closest affiliations of these young hearts. But the comrade- ship of the literary halls was a very real and very dear one. In those days when snail-like transportation made the home folks seem a long way off, this comrade- ship fought hard against illness and dis- couragement. Sometimes it struggled with death itself. Three tokens of these combats gleam white among the trees in the pretty village burying-ground. The modest slabs reveal the names of three old-time Erodelphians, ministered unto till the very end by sympathizing com- rades, although home and kindred were denied.
J. W. Smith. John Jameson. Joseph Little.
Above each name stands the motto of the society that erected the stone,
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"Scientia, Eloquentia, Amicitia." Be- low is the parting benediction of man to man,
"Vale, mi frater."
Say if you will the old-time literary society is a thing of the past. It has justi- fied itself a thousand-fold in pulpit and in forum. They served an apprenticeship better than they knew, those fiery-hearted lads of olden time. And we who profit by their national achievement and revel in their rich traditions, would gladly waft our message back to each of them along the corridors of time:
"Vale, mi frater."
VALE IL TRAILER
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T HERE is a tradition, dating back to the time of people who should have known, that the Indian word 'Mi- ami" meant mother. Nowadays people usually forget that the name is aboriginal at all; and cultured Easterners give it a rich, garlicky Italian twang, as they drawl it at you in melodious tones, "Mee- aw-mee." However, the old tradition lingers in its savage beauty and takes a real significance in the eyes of those much-abused but naively self-sufficient college organizations, the Greek-letter fraternities. For out of the loins of little old Miami, in the years "befo' de wah," arose in turn three of the largest, most
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prosperous, and most widely-extended of these secret brotherhoods.
Far be it from this sketch to attempt discussion of the impulses or ideals which operate to produce these unions of choice spirits, these gatherings of the elect, or whatever else they choose to call them- selves. The closed circle of intimates is as old as time; and contemporary with it arose a tendency to inward "peeve" and consuming jealousy among those just out- side the circle. If twenty picked men are gathered from a possible hundred, the pathetic part is not played by the hun- dredth man, but by Number 21. When Og and Glug, among the pre-Adamite cave- dwellers, happened upon a valley where sweet red berries grew, invited Wap to share their secret, and gathered daily in their close retreat to munch and snooze and barter confidences; when they decked themselves with the shiny fruit, leered in
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the faces of Tub and Blub-who weren't asked-and called themselves a string of gutturals meaning in their lingo "Order of the Sacred Grotto where the Red Berry Grows:" there appeared, in germ, the Greek letter fraternity minus the Greek.
In the college community there is par- ticular need for these limited brother- hoods. A fellow can't intimately fellow- ship a whole school, and there have to be the chosen few whose hearts thump in unison with his. To these alone he goes with the hopeless problem in algebra or the perfectly bully note from the girl with the brown eyes; these only are per- mitted to loan him money when dad's allowance is all spent, or to share the lus- cious box of "eats" that mother always sends on birthdays. A heartless world may scoff, or bone-headed reporters write scathing sarcasm of the "rah-rah boys
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from the Eata Bitea Pie crowd." But somehow there's nowhere else in college life where real youth-red-blooded, siz- zling, affectionate youth-gets expression so adequately as in the comradeship of fraternity halls.
To be sure their secrets and occult mysteries savor of a colossal farce. A Greek motto that not one undergraduate in twenty would recognize if he met it in broad daylight out on College Avenue; a set of digital contortions suggesting life- long agonies with rheumatic joints and called a grip; a ritual pieced together out of empty but resounding phrases and calculated to make candidates forget the miseries of the hot sands outside. Be- yond these, only the secrecy that belongs to every firm or corporation-the priv- ilege of attending to its own business. They tell us too that these Greeks waste precious time, and squander papa's
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shekels, and cultivate snobbishness, and acquire false ideas of life; some of which are dire charges if they should be true. They tell us, truthfully enough, that many a perfectly good fellow never "makes a frat;" and yet he learns his lessons like a little man and goes out into the great old world, perhaps even to be- come vice-president or invent a new breakfast-food. None of these proposi- tions does it behoove us to argue, but a few fundamental truths of life keep star- ing at us till we're cross-eyed. Most men revel in a secret, even a trivial secret, almost as much as a woman does. The harshest criticisms of fraternity life come from those who know next to nothing about it. We have quit heaping criticism on the church every time a class-leader makes tracks for Canada. The fellow who didn't make a frat, even though it was composed of his inferiors, was usually
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in the recipient condition of our old friend Barkis. Finally, the clan spirit never has been crowded out and shows no . signs of disappearing. Now let us turn to our mutton.
The Greek fraternity made its ap- pearance at Oxford when Miami was ten years old. In the fall of 1835 Samuel Eels came into Ohio from Hamilton Col- lege and settled in Cincinnati to practice law. At Hamilton he had been a member of Alpha Delta Phi, instituted there three years before. As he fell in with various Miami graduates and students about the city, it occurred to Eels that here was a fine chance to do a little missionary work and extend the field of his new fraternity. The process was delightfully simple. Se- lecting W. S. Groesbeck, C. L. Tilford and J. B. Temple as the most promising ma- terial, he called himself into executive session, voted these men into the organ-
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ization without a single black-ball, and, having found them willing to assume the trust, promptly initiated them at his of- fice in Cincinnati. Then he notified the Hamilton chapter that they had a nice new brother out here in the Ohio Valley, and he already bore a marked resem- blance to the family. There wasn't much red tape about those times.
The first activities of the baby chapter . were entirely in the dark. It was getting its eyes open, so to speak. Nine members were enrolled before even the existence of the thing was revealed. Then the president of the university, who had a pious horror of all secret societies, was asked one day to read an announcement of one of their meetings. Laboriously he spelled it out, "the Alpha and Delta and Phi Society," and his hostile suspicions were aroused from that moment. This feeling apparently was one of the few
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things passed on to Doctor Junkin, for in the last year of his brief administration the latter issued a written protest to the trustees against the existence of the Alphas. The Board investigated these young terrors, but failed to find anything incriminating or unorthodox.
In the meantime Alpha Delta Phi had instituted her school of applied politics, giving special attention to night sessions; and had made the two literary societies lie down, roll over and jump through paper hoops till they were fast losing all their self-respect. Then came the revolt, culminating in a resolution passed in both halls, that no hated follower of this Greek crowd should ever be admitted to membership. One result of this was the creation of the Miami Literary Society. Another, less direct, but farther reaching, was the founding of Beta Theta Pi.
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