University of Virginia Library

5. FIVE

Colgate Darden
and the Students

Colgate W. Darden, Jr., chancellor of the College of William
and Mary, former governor of Virginia, onetime
member of the U.S. Congress and of the Virginia House of
Delegates, was elected president of the University of Virginia
in the spring of 1947. From the outset he had been the oddson
favorite for the position. Prominent alumni backed him,
and the Alumni Association's board of managers urged his
election unanimously. But the faculty and students were far
from enthusiastic. Many professors viewed him askance because
as a politician he had not come up the academic escalator,
while the students feared that he planned to abolish fraternities
and otherwise put the screws on the undergraduates.
Yet both groups swallowed hard and their spokesmen promptly
expressed themselves favorably, even enthusiastically concerning
the new president. A faculty assembly, representing all departments,
adopted resolutions without a single dissent voicing
"complete confidence in Mr. Darden and pledging him
full support and cooperation." This was an effort to counteract
some of the extreme positions being taken, such as threatened
resignations. College Topics hailed the new president without
reservations.

As governor, Darden had manifested a great concern for
the improvement of education in the state at all levels. He was
anxious to increase the percentage of public school pupils matriculating
at Charlottesville. What alarmed many of the undergraduates
at Virginia was his recommendation as governor

to the William and Mary Board of Visitors that students there
be forbidden to live in fraternity or sorority houses, a recommendation
that was adopted. His reasoning was that fraternities
and sororities were "undemocratic" and placed a financial
burden on parents. University of Virginia students somehow
got the idea that Darden, a member of Phi Gamma Delta,
planned not only to seek a similar regulation affecting them
but also that he wanted to abolish fraternities entirely. Repeated
denials that he wished to liquidate the university's
Greek letter organizations failed to convince them. He did say
that he thought stricter discipline was essential to the fraternities'
proper functioning, but he added that the discipline
should be in the hands of the students.

As a result of all the discussion aroused by Governor Darden's
position on the issue, the university's Board of Visitors
in 1942 had appointed a ten-man committee, headed by Judge
A. D. Barksdale, '15, to examine the fraternity situation at the
institution and make recommendations. This group, which included
representatives of the faculty and alumni, as well as
fraternity and nonfraternity men, reported unanimously in
early 1943 against forbidding the students to live in the
houses. After a careful investigation, the committee concluded
that such a prohibition would entail heavy financial
problems for both the fraternities and the university. The
thirty-three fraternities had 610 rooms where students could
stay, at less cost than in the dorms and much less than in the
boarding houses, its report declared. Additional rooming facilities
would have to be found elsewhere or built, if students
were forbidden to live in the quarters of the Greek letter organizations.
The committee said, further, that grades of the
fraternity men were slightly higher, overall, than those of the
nonfraternity men (a temporary phenomenon). It stated, too,
that living in the houses was beneficial "in the formation of
character, discipline and studious habits," although there had
been "too frequent instances of conduct . . . that did not reflect
credit on the fraternities." The committee strongly urged
that the state provide funds for "a modern, well-equipped student
union or student center where facilities will be available
to all students for social gatherings and entertainment." This
would take care of the complaint that nonfraternity men had
no such facilities.

With the election of Colgate Darden as president of the university
four years later, discussion around the Grounds of his
views concerning fraternities was intensified. He had told the
General Assembly while governor that he did "not object to
the fraternities themselves" but to "conditions at the university
to which fraternity houses have made more than a modest
contribution." He added that "fraternity house life at the university
is entirely too free and easy" and that "if the students
are unwilling to institute reasonable rules and regulations, especially
for supervision over mixed parties, then the university
administration must do so." By the time he took over as
president in 1947, the students had published page after page
in Corks and Curls showing carousals in the fraternity houses,
with girls and boys waving whiskey bottles, girls sitting in boys'
laps, some in a semicomatose state, and a student or two lying
prone on the floor. The fact that similar photos graced the
annuals at various other institutions of higher learning did
not lessen President Darden's conviction that the time had
come to institute stricter rules at Virginia.

Many students appeared at his inauguration on Oct. 1,
1947, wearing black neckties, signalizing their concern over
what they took to be his plans. The principal speaker was Sir
Alfred Zimmern, emeritus professor of international relations
at Oxford, where Darden had studied for a year under a Carnegie
fellowship in the early 1920s. Gov. William M. Tuck also
spoke. Representatives of many universities and learned societies
in this country and overseas were present, along with
thousands of visitors.

In his inaugural address the University of Virginia's new
president offered the suggestion that "we should give careful
consideration to the establishment of colleges giving two years
of sound work to both men and women," adding that "this has
been done with great success by the College of William and
Mary in both Norfolk and Richmond, and the experiment has
enabled many to secure the training they desire at a cost
within their means." President Darden also urged "a carefully
prepared program of adult education," on the theory that "the
day will come when adult education will eclipse in effectiveness
anything ever done with children."

A ban against first-year men and women joining fraternities
or sororities had been instituted by the Board of Visitors before

the inauguration, effective at the session of 1947-48. It
had been announced the previous spring that such a prohibition
was part of President Darden's plan for the university.

The visitors also decreed that the incoming group of firstyear
men be organized into a class, of which they were to remain
members during their four years in the college. Each
succeeding new class was to be similarly organized. This edict
of the board was either withdrawn or ignored. Little more was
heard of it.

The Richmond Times-Dispatch had published an editorial approving
the rule against first-year men joining fraternities, on
the ground that the rule "should automatically eliminate the
young wastrels from outside the state who now manage to
spend a year or two at Virginia, for they probably will not wish
to come at all." It also called these plutocratic undergraduates
"the Buick and bankroll set." The foregoing references caused
near tantrums among the Cavaliers, and the editor of the
Times-Dispatch—the author of the present volume—was denounced
for a decade or more in student publications as a
"constant critic," "perennial critic," and "active critic" of the
institution.

Although a graduate of the university who had grown up
there, and the son, grandson, great-grandson, and greatgreat-grandson
of graduates, he was excoriated as knowing
little or nothing about its history and traditions and was depicted
as on the lookout for opportunities to publicize it adversely.
The sole basis for this prolonged brouhaha was the
"wastrel" editorial, plus condemnation by the paper of some
of the more outrageously undisciplined performances of the
students—at the university, in Philadelphia hotels, and elsewhere.

George O. Ferguson, dean of admissions and registrar, issued
a statement following the appearance of the above
quoted Times-Dispatch editorial, intended to show that in 1947
there were no "wastrels" in the university. He conceded that
there were plenty of them in the 1920s, but contended that
when a couple of hundred were dropped in 1928 and new
requirements adopted, the problem was solved. It wasn't, although
the postwar group of students was perhaps the best in
modern times at the university. Consulted in the 1970s concerning
Ferguson's statement, Colgate Darden expressed admiration

52. Jesse W. Beams, internationally famous physicist.

for the dean but said there was a problem in 1947
with a group of well-heeled loafers who should not have been
in the institution, a fact confirmed later by Edgar Shannon.
Darden was successful in eliminating many of them by instituting
stricter requirements. But the ban on first-year men
joining fraternities was abandoned after a trial of several
years, and a rule against rushing during the first semester was
substituted. The fraternity members were unhappy about that
too.

Darden criticized fraternities in his report to the Board of
Visitors for 1948-49, saying that "the university has suffered
too often in the past from the activities of a group of fraternities
and societies dedicated primarily and sometimes exclusively
to the outward and visible signs of social distinction." He
added that these organizations "have failed signally as organizations
to share the legitimate interests of a university community,
nor have they furnished the leadership which might
be expected of them."

Fraternities at Virginia "have been subject to less control by
the administration than at any other university in the nation,"
College Topics declared in 1947. The paper trotted out all over
again the argument that the new rules covering the houses
ran counter to Jeffersonian principles. "To withdraw recognition
of the rights and respect accorded the university students'
ability to act as gentlemen is to deny that the University of
Virginia, throughout its unique history, has been a successful
institution," said Topics. "We who have grown to love the university
for what it was cannot take it lying down." No mention
here of the fact that in 1825-26 Thomas Jefferson counted on
the young men to "act as gentlemen" but that those scions of
the Virginia aristocracy behaved like hoodlums, and the "uniform
and early rising laws" were enacted as a result (see chapter
1). Those laws, of course, were far more stringent than
anything even conceived of by Colgate Darden or any other
modern president of the university.

Or consider the provisions of the "Laws of the University of
Virginia" enacted in 1897. Under those regulations, as Staige
D. Blackford, Jr., later a Rhodes Scholar, pointed out in 1951,
"students could be meted out minor punishments for such iniquitous
actions as `non-attendance on classes, inattention to
the exercises prescribed, misbehavior or inattention in classes.' "

Furthermore, "it was a major offense for a student to show
`perseverance in habits of expense [and] . . . all meetings of
students in the public rooms of the university are prohibited,
unless the written consent of the chairman of the faculty is
first obtained.' " Blackford observed that in view of these and
other restrictions, "one might believe that the university could
have been more famous in tradition as the citadel of administrative
despotism, rather than as the shrine of student liberty."
He went on to say that "the students here in the great traditional
past enjoyed about as much liberty as a modern kindergarten
child." Yet most of the undergraduates in the midtwentieth
century continued over the years to proclaim that
the university in the past had been a uniquely free institution.
When any sort of mild restrictions were placed on them covering
the use of automobiles, chaperones in fraternity houses,
public drinking, or what-not, they bellowed that the sacred
Jeffersonian traditions were being undermined and Virginia
was being turned into "just another prep school."

The Interfraternity Council (IFC) offered a set of rules governing
women in the fraternities, but they were rejected by
the visitors, who proposed the following: No women in the
houses on Monday through Friday before 3 P.M. or after 8
P.M.; none on Saturday or Sunday before 11 A.M. or after 8
P.M., except that on Saturday night women were to be permitted
until 1 A.M. if chaperones approved by the dean of students
were present. Women were to be entertained in living
and recreation rooms only, and officers of each fraternity were
to be held responsible for enforcement. Alumni almost everywhere
were overwhelmingly favorable to these new rules.

The IFC asked for and got a hearing before the visitors. It
requested certain minor modifications, namely extension of
the curfew for an hour after the university dances and exclusion
of mothers, wives, sisters, and domestic servants from the
restrictive provisions affecting the visits of women to the
fraternity houses. These requests were granted.

Pursuant to President Darden's plan to impose greater and
greater responsibility on the students for maintaining discipline
in the university, he and Dean Newman arranged for the
Student Council to assume complete jurisdiction over all such
matters. This was the result of months of conferences between
the administration and the council. Darden stated that council

decisions would be overruled only in case of a miscarriage of
justice or upon the discovery of new facts that justified a reversal.

Conduct of students at football games had left something to
be desired and was placed in 1948 under a student committee
of thirty which, in turn, was responsible to the Student Council.
The committee members were readily identifiable by arm
bands. A similar committee had functioned the previous year,
but it reported to the administration rather than to the Student
Council. An undergraduate judged by the committee to
be guilty of public drunkenness at one of the games was put
under "strict probation" until the end of the semester. This
meant that he was prohibited from participating in any extracurricular
activities or functions sponsored by the university
and from taking part in athletic contests or attending dances
or concerts.

Several students were disciplined by the Student Council in
the spring of 1949 for misconduct. One was suspended for
the rest of the semester, seven were put on strict probation
until June 1950, and others were given lesser penalties.

On another front, the Interfraternity Council fined a fraternity
and closed its house to all social activities for sixty days.
These penalties were imposed for violations of rules laid down
by the Board of Visitors governing chaperonage of parties in
the house. The IFC acted under authority delegated to it by
the Student Council. President Darden said that the council
was operating "under the broadest grant of power given to
students by any educational institution in the United States."
He expressed gratification over the action of the IFC in the
above mentioned case.

The roughest penalty imposed by the Student Council during
this period was its recommendation for expulsion of an
undergraduate who violated the strict probation under which
he had been put by the council earlier in the year, by going to
several parties. He was expelled. Corks and Curls said shortly
thereafter that President Darden had never reversed the
council in any of its decisions, though at times he had disagreed.

Easter Week 1950 was "notable for its decorum and general
good behavior," Chester Goolrick wrote as editor of the Alumni
News. This was especially true, he said, of the quadrangle parties,

"though they were attended by literally thousands of
people." These affairs took place in the quadrangle on Rugby
Road surrounded on three sides by the Kappa Sigma, Delta
Tau Delta, and Chi Phi fraternity houses. A major reason for
the good behavior, he said, was "an open letter signed by 12
presidents of student organizations . . . calling on each student
to be `conscious of his own behavior at all times.' " The signers
went on to say that "it is time to revive the respected ideal of
the Virginia Gentleman . . . proud of his university and of his
responsibility to it." The year before at the quadrangle party
"an estimated 2,000 students and dates passed in and out," in
the words of the Virginia Spectator. An annual feature of these
parties was the fracas known as the Kappa Sig's Halitosis
Brawl.

Only 20 percent of the students were members of the
twenty-four fraternities still on the Grounds during the session
of 1948-49, according to the Alumni News. A number of
the Greek letter organizations had faded out since the early
1940s. Enrollment in the university broke all records in
1948-49, with more than five thousand students, of whom
over three thousand were financing their education by means
of the G.I. Bill.

Behavior of university men in Philadelphia following football
games with the University of Pennsylvania in 1947 and
1948 received highly unfavorable nationwide publicity. While
the conduct of some was bad enough, certain accounts contained
serious exaggerations. The events in the Pennsylvania
city followed by a few weeks some misbehavior by university
students at the Hotel Roanoke in Roanoke after the VPI
game.

Sensational newspaper accounts of the happenings in Philadelphia
misled the Student Council at the university into issuing
a somewhat more vehement statement that the facts
warranted. It spoke of "wanton destruction . . . in the hotels
and in the city of Philadelphia generally after Saturday's game
[lost by Virginia, 19 to 7]," and went on to detail damage to
three hotels. "Action will be taken in this matter," the council
declared. However, the Philadelphia Inquirer interviewed several
hotel men a few days later and said that while there were
undoubted incidents, the overall behavior was not so bad as
had been painted. Yet it was reprehensible; President Darden

spoke of the "very severe damage," and he added: "The only
thing that stood in the way of decisive action was the lack of
reliable facts." Neither the Pennsylvania authorities nor the
Student Council could identify any of the guilty parties, so
nobody was punished.

When Virginia defeated Penn two years later, 26 to 14,
there was further disorder in Philadelphia hotels, but once
again the episodes seem to have been painted in too lurid
colors. The president of the Hotel Association of Philadelphia
issued a statement saying that "we never saw anything like
what happened here," and he added that no more reservations
would be accepted from University of Virginia students.
They had come to the game "steamed up on whiskey and waving
Confederate flags," he added. The manager of the Adelphi
Hotel where the principal celebration took place said the
brawl was broken up at midnight by police, and that "chairs,
glasses, everything you can think of were thrown out of the
windows." But the University of Pennsylvania student newspaper
quoted the manager of the Benjamin Franklin Hotel a
few days later as terming the hotel association's pronouncement
"unfortunate" and "ridiculous." He said he would be
glad to accept University of Virginia students at his hotel at
any time.

President Darden and three members of the Student Council
went to Philadelphia for a conference. When it was concluded,
they issued a statement that "property damage to hotels
was not as great as we have been led to believe" (figured
overall at $1,150), but that "we were shocked by some of the
conduct that had taken place . . . in public rooms." They emphasized
that every effort would be made "to see that hotels
were paid for any damage traceable to university students."
Unfortunately, "no names of those guilty of these misdeeds
were secured," most of the misbehavior having occurred in
public rooms. Total damage to all hotels was put at less than
$800 in the final reckoning some months later. In the fall of
1950 Virginia played Penn again, but there were no complaints
of student misconduct.

Virginia undergraduates were wont to treat their fraternity
houses at times approximately as roughly as they did the
Philadelphia hostelries, especially during weekend parties.
Time and again Greek letter organizations would collect

53. J. Malcolm Luck, director of alumni activities, 1930-55.

$20,000 to $30,000 from alumni members for doing the place
over, only to see it virtually wrecked by the next series of parties.

Prof. T. Braxton Woody, the first chairman of the university's
Housing Committee, said concerning the fraternities:
"One of our major problems was to inspect these horrible
places. . . . Just beyond belief, nobody can imagine human
beings ever lived in such places. We would tell them `this must
be cleaned, this must be done,' and we would come back a little
later, nothing done at all. . . . Or a boy would work like a dog,
get the place cleaned up, maybe he would get an alumnus interested.
They would spend thousands of dollars sanding the
floors, cleaning it up, renovating. Then a year or two later
. . . all that money gone down the drain."

Student Adviser B. F. D. Runk, who would become dean of
the university in 1959, was critical of the fraternities during
the 1950s since, in his view, "they were not doing their job." A
fraternity man himself who believed in the Greek letter societies,
he felt that "they were not fulfilling the function they had
here"—were not giving proper leadership to the university,
although "all of the student leaders were fraternity men."
They had let their houses run down, "were just beating the
houses all to pieces." However, he praised the Student Council
for the record it made during these years.

As governor, Colgate Darden had projected plans for a Student
Activities Building at the university, with the idea of making
conditions for students more comfortable and economical
and providing social facilities for all, especially nonfraternity
men. He estimated that about $3,000,000 would be needed
for construction of an adequate student center with dining
hall, lounges, reading rooms, offices for student publications
and other organizations, and so on. This would give the university
"equipment that virtually every great university in the
nation except Virginia already has," said the Alumni News. But
while that publication was strongly in favor of the plan, most
fraternity men after the war were grimly opposed. This represented
a complete reversal from a few years before, when
nearly everybody—faculty, students, and alumni—seemed to
want a Student Activities Building. One exception on the faculty
was history Prof. Thomas Cary Johnson, who addressed

the Richmond alumni on "Darden's First Year," and accused
the president of "ruining the university." When Darden heard
about it, he called in Johnson to learn more about his speech.
The latter repeated that he was ruining the university by
"making it a catch-all for everybody who wants to go to college
in the state." "That's what it's supposed to be," the president
replied. "Neither of us convinced the other," Johnson said
later in describing the incident. Cary Johnson, who spoke of
himself as "a reactionary," was one of the wittiest lecturers in
the university.

Many fraternity men apparently feared that the Student
Union would undermine their prestige and their domination
of university affairs. However, it was in fact necessary not only
for the nonfraternity men, who were without adequate recreational
and dining opportunities, but for everybody.

The University Center, revolving about Madison Hall and
established around 1940, had been christened the Student
Union in 1948, looking toward the ultimate construction of an
adequate Student Union building. The union was active in offering
various types of cultural and recreational activities, with
the indefatigable Mrs. A. E. Walker presiding over all. However,
Madison Hall, with its limited size and facilities, could
not possibly provide everything that was required by the
steadily growing student body.

In 1952 the General Assembly appropriated $400,000 as a
sort of down payment on the much-debated Student Union.
A total of $2,750,000 finally was made available by the legislature.
Fraternity men had been lobbying against it, writing
Gov. William M. Tuck and members of the General Assembly
that it would be a waste of money. Some contended that the
sum would be much better spent for higher faculty salaries or
for a field house. A three-man committee of the Student
Council recommended against the project, "since present
plans do not provide facilities that would be attractive to students."
The building was jeeringly referred to on many occasions
as "the ping pong palace." The Virginia Spectator published
an editorial evidencing a discovery of horrendous
bugaboos under the bed: "We stand on the threshold of `State
U-ism,' that haven of the dungaree doll, the second-rate professor,
the pigmy-brained student, and the monolithic `campus,'

" said this organ of student opinion. "The title of `Virginia
gentleman' will no longer command respect, but will
become a rather ludicrous misnomer." Another writer in the
Spectator remarked sarcastically: "Thriftily priced at only three
million dollars, the structure [the Student Union] will be unobtrusive,
and probably not much larger than the combined
new dormitories and the Alderman Library." To all of these
fatuities President Darden replied, "I am not going to change
my position." His influence with the General Assembly far outweighed
that of the opposition.

The Student Union was built, of course, and named for former
President Newcomb. This led to the derisive student appellation
of "Mamma Newk," applied to the Union by students
who were using it regularly but had fought it bitterly. The
most important and necessary structure on the Grounds since
the erection of Alderman Library, Newcomb Hall had to be
enlarged in subsequent years, so essential was it to the wellbeing
of all the students, fraternity and nonfraternity alike.
The same type of undergraduate who had fought its erection
in previous years now denounced the president for delay in
carrying out its enlargement. Much credit for its almost immediate
acceptance and success has been accorded Donald M.
McKay, formerly director of housing, who was placed in
charge.

There were other causes of friction with Darden during the
mid-1950s, in addition to Newcomb Hall. Rules as to student
housing set off renewed lamentations that Jeffersonian liberties
were being undermined.

And there was the "sex scandal" on East Lawn in the spring
of 1954, involving a dozen students and a girl. The event occurred
Apr. 4, but did not become known to the public until
May 19, when the Cavalier Daily unveiled most of the facts.
The student newspaper, edited by Frank M. Slayton, expressed
approval of the dismissal of some students and the
suspension of others. This set off a great uproar, and many
undergraduates wrote to the paper expressing strong disapproval
of its stand and of the penalties meted out. There was
especially bitter criticism of the Board of Visitors and of Richard
R. Fletcher, director of student affairs, who had recommended
the penalties. Three of the men were suspended because

54. Tipton R. Snavely, professor of economics.

they failed to put a halt to actions of the others. These
suspensions were shortened.

All this, combined with the new housing regulations, the
building of Newcomb Hall, the perennial fear that fraternities
would be abolished, and other grievances, real or imagined,
caused the Student Council to call a mass meeting in Cabell
Hall. The council claimed, among other things, that its powers
had been "usurped" by "Dick" Fletcher in the "sex scandal"
matter, and requested that Fletcher's office be eliminated. The
Board of Visitors refused to grant the request.

In all this hullaballoo it is probable that the students did
have a genuine grievance or two against the university administration.
Some of those who led in mobilizing sentiment
against President Darden and his associates were young men
of intelligence and integrity. For example, Stuart Valentine,
president of the college, said he had attended numerous conferences
with Darden, but "when asked direct questions, the
president has dodged them completely. . . . Many times he has
been asked whether the administration is going to do away
with fraternities. His indefinite answer has always been that as
long as fraternities keep up their standards, he has no complaints.
The question is, whose standards—his or what the students
consider good standards." It would seem that if the
president had been a bit more categorical in his denials, he
could have saved himself a good many headaches. Stuart Harris,
a former member of the Student Council, said the council
had been bypassed and overruled on various occasions. Also
that a fraternity had been warned against playing softball on
Sunday "miles from the university." Just what was involved in
these episodes was not made plain. It may be that the boys
were not given a "fair shake."

Colgate Darden would have been the first to admit that he
was not infallible, and he could well have made some serious
mistakes in his relations with the students. If he had not done
so over a period of a dozen years in office, it would have been
little short of miraculous.

There were occasional cross-burnings near the president's
house on Carr's Hill, evidencing student wrath over this or
that administration policy. President Darden put a notice in
the paper saying that it didn't matter to him how many crosses
were burned, but please to stop leaning them against the fine

old oak trees since it was harmful to the trees and they were
valuable. There were no more cross-burnings.

When the Board of Visitors met in the early fall of 1954 and
heard the complaints of a student committee, it voted unanimously
to support President Darden and rejected totally the
contention that he was trying to turn the university into another
"state-U" or to drive out the fraternities. It commended
Beta Theta Pi for employing a mature and experienced hostess
who would be present at all parties to which young women
were invited and recommended that the other fraternities follow
suit.

Out of the ferment and controversy generated by the foregoing
events there came agreement on a far-reaching change
in the system of student government. President Darden and
the Student Council put together a plan for a nine-member
student Judiciary Committee which would try all cases of student
misconduct referred to it by the council and impose penalties.
Honor code violations would remain under the Honor
Committee. Cases to be handled by the Judiciary Committee
would be those dealt with during the preceding five years by
the Student Council. At the same time, the latter organization's
powers were broadened, and it would act as an advisory
body to the president of the university. The office of director
of student affairs would be retained and its occupant would
forward to the Student Council any cases that he felt should
involve disciplinary action. The Judiciary Committee had no
jurisdiction over the coeds since they had their own form of
government, the Women Students' Association. President
Darden expressed himself as greatly encouraged by these developments,
and the Cavalier Daily was ecstatic, saying: "Here
we have an unbelievable amount of freedom, and that freedom
has been broadened by the establishment of this new student
government." The plan was ratified overwhelmingly by
the students in a referendum. Five years later Dean Raymond
C. Bice wrote: "The student government, with its separate judiciary
function, has evolved from cooperative efforts between
students and administrators to make the University of Virginia
students envied by their counterparts in colleges
throughout the world."

A committee of seven administrators and professors, with
Prof. George W. Spicer as chairman, was named in 1954 to

study the fraternity situation and make recommendations. Its
report, made known the following spring, contained significant
proposals. Preparation and publication of a general
policy for fraternities was one of them. Another was appointment
by President Darden of a nine-man committee, which
would include three IFC representatives, this committee to be
responsible for the organization and regulation of fraternity
affairs. Also, each chapter would be required to secure the
services of a hostess approved by the university, "who shall be
present at all social events." However, fraternities on the official
list would be permitted to "entertain a limited number of
women guests in their fraternity houses during specified periods
without the presence of a hostess or chaperone." Appointment
of food service and housing service advisory committees
was urged, as well as strengthening of the system of
resident fraternity advisors, especially with respect to finances.
Hazing in connection with initiations should be prohibited,
and no initiation activities should take place outside
the house. Scholarship performance of each chapter should
be closely watched, and suggestions for improvement made by
the 3-3-3 committee, when this seemed indicated. An immediate
study of rushing policies was urged. These recommendations
were approved by President Darden.

Fraternity rushing rules were overhauled for the umpteenth
time, pursuant to the report. Major objectives were to
reduce the amount of time and money expended in rushing
prospective "goats." Road trips with goats to nearby women's
colleges were banned. The time for rushing, about the same
as before, was limited to the period between Thanksgiving
and the Christmas holidays, the first two weeks of the second
semester, and the third week of that semester (formal rush
week).

The Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity was caught paddling
initiates in broad daylight in the field in front of the Deke
house. This was in violation of the rules, so penalties were
imposed. But since various other fraternities had been doing
the same thing without being detected, some of the penalties
were removed. The Dekes, it was pointed out, were at least
not trying to conceal what they were doing.

The "Cross Fraternity Scholarship Award" was established
by Mrs. Virginia Cross of Philadelphia, mother of Richard S.

Cross, '22. An engraved trophy or plaque would go to the
fraternity with the highest scholastic average for the previous
season.

As noted in an earlier chapter, students were predicting in the
1920s that if the university's enrollment went beyond two
thousand, the Honor System would be endangered if not destroyed.
These premonitions were unduly alarmist, for the
system held up well for decades after many more than two
thousand students were enrolled. By the 1950s, however,
there were signs that the honor spirit was being subjected to
unwonted strains. A substantial percentage of the students in
that era had had no previous experience with the workings of
an Honor System such as had functioned at Virginia for more
than a century.

In the middle 1950s a "long line of thefts in the dressing
room" at the gymnasium was mentioned in the Cavalier Daily.
Some said it was the work of outsiders, but the paper spoke of
"a general feeling that the real culprits were closer to home."
Charges that students were misrepresenting their ages at the
ABC stores to get liquor also were disturbing. And something
called "synthetic sickness" was causing concern. Students were
excusing themselves for class absences under circumstances
deemed suspicious—"one of the few shams in an otherwise
sincere university," as the Cavalier Daily expressed it. On top of
all this, the student Bad Check Committee was "facing a definite
crisis from a mounting number of unredeemable bad
checks passed by university students." It appeared that "almost
$250 worth of these `back-handed larcenies' " had accumulated.
The Bad Check Committee announced that a student
failing to rectify a "rubber" check within two weeks of
notification by that agency must appear before the Honor
Committee.

On the favorable side, the number of dismissals under the
Honor System had dropped sharply, as compared with the
years immediately following World War II, when enrollment
had zoomed to more than five thousand.

In addition, excellent results were being reported from the
Ivey F. Lewis Honor Loan System, under which students who
could get funds nowhere else could borrow small sums, usually
under $25, and sign a pledge to repay the money "as soon

as I reasonably can." During the session of 1952-53, for example,
a total of $8,735 was loaned and $9,260 was repaid
from previous years. Of the amount made available to students
the preceding year, $700 was unpaid, but it was expected
that all, or nearly all, of this sum would be forthcoming.
Some time previously, a man borrowed $100, and when
two years went by without repayment, the loss was about to be
written off when a check for $150 arrived from him. No interest
was charged on these loans, but he felt that he should include
it anyway. It was evidence of the fact that the honor
spirit remained alive and well among the vast majority of students
at the University of Virginia.

Differences between the older and younger generations as to
what constituted obscenity were apparent with publication of
the "Paunch" issue of the Spectator, intended as a parody on
the British magazine Punch. Many students were infuriated
when President Darden appointed a faculty committee to report
on the issue, and the Cavalier Daily said that statements
made by him concerning the matter "made us wonder at the
soundness of mind of the president." It apologized later for
this remarkable assertion, but continued to maintain, along
with several leading student organizations, that there was
nothing objectionable in the magazine. The consensus among
students, with few exceptions, seemed to be that the "Paunch"
issue was one of the best ever. Yet the faculty committee,
headed by Dean of Women Roberta H. Gwathmey, found
unanimously that the issue was a "discredit" to the university,
and the entire Board of Visitors expressed the same view.
President Darden referred to the issue's "coarseness and vulgarity
which are utterly out of keeping with the innate good
taste which has distinguished the University of Virginia." The
Board of Visitors voted to ban the Spectator permanently because
of what was deemed its unsavory record over the past
few years. A new publication, Harlequin, promptly appeared
as its successor but was panned by the Cavalier Daily, which
accused it of purloining most if its material from old issues of
the Spectator. It soon faded out and was heard of no more.

Problems surrounding student automobiles were frequently
of concern to the administration. First-year men had been forbidden
since before the war to have cars, but the ban had been

55. Col. Staige Davis Blackford, M.D., professor of internal
medicine and organizer of the university's 8th Evacuation Unit
in World War II. From a portrait by Irene Higgins.

enforced only halfheartedly. Strict enforcement was decreed
by President Newcomb in the fall of 1946, pursuant to action
by the Board of Visitors, but the edict was withdrawn soon
afterward, following a student protest. It appeared that the
ban worked a hardship on many of the newly enrolled war
veterans who couldn't get living quarters near the Grounds.
The visitors revived the ban against cars for first-year men,
effective with the session of 1950-51. Transfer students and
those entering professional or graduate departments were exempt
from the prohibition, as were the physically handicapped.

Things were fairly quiet on the motor vehicle front until the
fall of 1958, when parking and traffic problems and the proliferation
of student cars to a total of over three thousand out
of four thousand six hundred enrolled caused new regulations
to be announced. The effect of these rules was that only
fourth-year men could have cars, beginning with the 1960-61
session, and no student on probation could have one. The Student
Council voted to fight the regulations and to support the
petition of first-year men for driving privileges. A few weeks
later a riot broke out, with about fifteen hundred students
participating. After the youths had surged around the Grounds
and along Main Street, some sixty police dispersed them with
tear gas. Three were arrested. Professor "Dee" Runk, in
charge of enforcing the car rules, was hanged in effigy. Shortly
thereafter about one thousand students filled Cabell Hall,
protesting the regulations as to cars and other rules deemed
objectionable. President Darden announced that "it is not my
purpose to consider grievances formulated by a segment of
the student body fresh from hanging Mr. Runk in effigy." The
students apologized, but they were determined to obtain
concessions from the administration. The young men got a
hearing before the Board of Visitors, and the rules were substantially
modified, following conferences between the students
and President Darden. Hereafter the use of a car would
be tied to grades made by the student. First-year men could
operate automobiles at Midwinters and Easters if they made
the required grade, but at no other time. Undergraduates who
were on probation or had had a warning of any kind could
not operate a motor vehicle.

The turmoil over the car regulations caused a certain

amount of tension between professors and students. In order
to lessen this feeling and promote understanding, the Student
Council initiated a series of bimonthly coffee hours, when faculty
and students would hold five simultaneous sessions in the
dormitories between 7 and 9 P.M. on designated evenings. The
first of these were largely attended and were pronounced
highly successful.

The drinking problem remained to the fore in the postwar
years. Whether there was more drinking at Virginia than elsewhere
has always been debatable, but it was more public there
in the period following the war. "Exhibition drinking," that is,
consuming grain alcohol drinks from mason jars or highballs
from glasses on University Avenue, at concerts in Cabell Hall,
or on the Lawn, made its appearance. The phrase "exhibition
drinking" had not been heard before 1946. In that year the
Interfraternity Council and the Student Council forbade such
drinking for a coming "big weekend," and "filled mason jars"
were banned both at dances in Memorial Gymnasium and at
concerts. The Student Council said the rules would be enforced.

The students seemed to go out of their way to give the university
a reputation for excessive tippling. Corks and Curls, in
particular, with its photographs of riotous parties in fraternity
houses and exaggerated descriptions of drinking bouts helped
to create this image. The myth was put forward that wassail
was even more widespread and unrestrained at the university
under prohibition and in the years that followed than in the
1950s. An article on "The Playboy Era" in the University of
Virginia Magazine in 1966 speaks of the prohibition years as
"these wild prohibition days," "this wild era" and "wild
soirées." The fact is that whereas there was wholesale violation
of the dry laws, the carryings-on were by no means as uninhibited
and wild as those of later decades at the university. For
one thing, with liquor illegal, drinking could not be nearly so
open as it subsequently became, and for another, during
much of the prohibition era girls could not even enter the
front door of a fraternity house, much less behave in the manner
depicted in innumerable photographs placed before the
public in the 1940s and later by the university annual.

Realizing in 1948 that the university was getting a bad

name, Joseph C. Carter, Jr., president of the Interfraternity
Council and later of the Student Union, wrote a guest editorial
for College Topics in which he said: "It seems that excessive
publicity is given, generally, to the drinking at the university.
We, as students, are in part responsible for such reputation as
we have. But definite allusions, such as `Purple Passion affairs,'
should be cut to the minimum, in order to counteract the public
conviction that this is an institution of alcoholism. We know
that it is not true, and it behooves us not to bray forth continually
of our capacities for consumption." Topics followed with
an editorial suggesting that "students here quit bragging
about Virginia's rather dubious distinction for drink." The
Student Council announced a crackdown on exhibition drinking
in connection with the dance concert at Openings in the
fall of 1951 and said that "the necessary disciplinary action
will be taken if this request is not carried out." A year later the
council said it would not tolerate any excessive drinking "at
football games, girls' schools and public assemblies." College
Topics issued a blast against those who were bringing the university
into disrepute with their swinish conduct. "Why can't
students of normal mentality see reckless drinking as something
that does immeasurable harm to the university?" asked
the Cavalier Daily. "Why do men who are not insane seek to
convince the public that they belong in Staunton [at the Western
State Hospital]? How can a person with some astuteness
behave as a complete ass?" Yet arguments against exhibition
drinking were met with the contention that President Darden
and others who urged that it stop were asking the students to
be hypocritical and drink, but not to drink in public. And
when the Richmond newspapers, especially the Times-Dispatch,
chronicled outrageous doings at the university or commented
adversely upon them, the papers were denounced in the Cavalier
Daily as "that bright yellow journalistic combination" and
the editor of the Times-Dispatch as an exemplar of "yellow dog
journalism."

Most of the university carousing went on during big party
weekends when girls came for the dances and other festivities
from all points of the compass. These weekends were given
enormous prominence in the Cavalier Daily, which published
the name of every girl and her date, covering many columns,

56. Buzzy Wilkinson, all-American basketball player, 1955.

and heralded the oncoming events with such across-the-page
headlines as "Weekend to Feature Bacchus, Bands, Babes"
and "Buddy, Bottles, Babes, Boogie Form Phalanx of Festivity."
The vast majority of students seemed to look forward to
these weekends with great eagerness, despite the gargantuan
hangovers that often resulted. But two prominent student
leaders, Curt Bazemore and Alfred McCormack, Jr., said that
they found these affairs to be nothing less than frightful
bores. Bazemore wrote: "After four years of them we feel as
if we were sitting in on the worst movie ever made for the
fourth straight time. How people can honestly say they have a
good time amid such screaming, shouting scenes of madness
. . . is beyond us." McCormack wrote, under the heading "University
Party—Phooey," that "one phase of university life we
can do without are big parties and big weekends such as those
given on Openings, Midwinters and Easters."

No account of the extracurricular diversions of university
students would be complete without mention of Carroll's Tea
Room, a small, one-story, two-room frame building at the corner
of Barracks Road and Route 29. It was owned, beginning
in 1941, by Carroll Walton, but he sold out later. The place
retained the name Carroll's in the 1940s and 1950s, however,
but during much of that time a current joke had it that there
was "no Carroll, no tea, and no room." Oceans of beer flowed
through Carroll's, but tea was not even kept in stock. It
claimed to sell more beer than any other emporium in Virginia,
and reportedly served as many as five thousand customers
in a day. An advertisement in 1954 said: "Did you
know we served one million people last year? Ten at a time—
all were satisfied." The congestion was fierce, for the two
rooms were only twenty by thirty feet, and hundreds of students
patronized the place every night. Some imbibed too
freely, of course, but with the undergraduates' usual penchant
for exaggerating the extent of inebriation in former days, a
student writer in 1973 said that "wild pandemonium and
drunken vigils took place nightly in Carroll's." It was indeed a
place where friends met for a seidel or two of lager in an atmosphere
of jollity and good fellowship, and some of them
got drunk. Carroll's moved in 1957 a mile and a half to the
north on Route 29, corner of Rio Road and was never the
same again.

Housing for students in the years immediately following
World War II was a serious problem, since enrollment skyrocketed
with the return of men from the service. The problem
was complicated by the fact that many of the veterans
were newly married, and a considerable number had small
children. The university accordingly bought 120 acres in 1945
from the Massie property, lying along the west side of Route
29 across from Lambeth Field and just north of the C&O Railroad
tracks. This was Copeley Hill. A hundred expansible
trailers were installed in 1946, and these were followed by
eighteen one-story frame buildings containing seventy-six
apartments. Then fifty-six more apartments, some with two
stories, were added, plus thirty faculty apartments and fourteen
two-story barracks buildings for single students. There
was also an area for privately owned house-trailers. A census
in 1950 showed 1,366 persons living on Copeley Hill, including
260 children and 450 single students. "Because the stork
is a frequent visitor, no count of the children can be accurate
for more than a few hours," said the Alumni News. A mayor
and council of eleven were elected twice yearly, and represented
the group when the university administration was considering
matters affecting the area. Wives, babies, and dogs
were important members of the community, and a general
feeling of cordiality and good relations prevailed. Residents
pitched in to build a playground, and a woman's club provided
bridge games and other recreation for the ladies.

All was serene until acrimony arose between the group that
had babies and the one that had dogs. As President Darden
relates it in his Conversations With Guy Friddell, "The parents
wanted their children to play out in the yard and the street,
and they did not want the dogs running loose . . . and knocking
their children over. The dog-people wanted the parents to
build fences around their property to keep the dogs out. . . .
One night in a discussion of the dogs-children issue, a councilman
jumped right over on another councilman and pulled
his shirt off. . . . I made up my mind that something had to be
done." Richard Poff, the future longtime member of Congress
from Roanoke and then a justice of the Virginia Supreme
Court, was a law student at the time and mayor of Copeley
Hill. Darden sent for him, and said: "I'm tired of listening to
mothers hollering at me about children and the dogs. . . . Take

it over and I'll back you up, but I want some peace and quiet."
That did it. "I never had another peep out of Copeley Hill.
Poff organized it perfectly."

The hill continued for some time to be used for student and
faculty housing. In 1960, for example, it had 250 family units
with a population of around eight hundred. All this construction,
which was never intended to be anything but temporary,
was pulled down subsequently to make way for more substantial
buildings.

In another area of the Grounds, the denizens of East and
West Lawn were unhappy in 1948 over the lack of adequate
bathing and shaving facilities. The East Lawn dwellers had
only one shower room with two showers and two wash basins
for about fifty men. "The razor-nicked faces of East Lawn
residents are being raised in an appeal for additional mirrors
and bowls," said the Cavalier Daily. The West Lawners, who
had been similarly dissatisfied, were rejoicing over installation
of a more adequate hot water system. "No more standing in
line to use the one hot water faucet," they said. Despite the
relatively primitive facilities on the Lawn and Ranges, these
quarters have for several decades been the most coveted
rooms in the university. In 1949 it was announced that
whereas for a good many years only Virginians had been
deemed eligible to inhabit these precincts, they would now be
thrown open to student leaders, irrespective of geographical
origin. In the summer of 1956 all student quarters on the
Lawn were rehabilitated under the supervision of Prof. Frederick
Nichols, the fireplaces and doorways restored to their
original 1825 condition, and the rooms equipped with appropriate
furniture to replace the battered and nondescript items
that had graced those chambers. Concern was expressed,
however, over "the exclusion of the single rooms . . . one of
the most popular aspects of Lawn life." The demand for
rooms on the Lawn and Ranges has long exceeded the supply.

New vitality came to the Lawn after World War II with the
reactivation of the West Lawn Chowder and Marching Society,
an ancient association of congenial spirits inhabiting the west
side of the Lawn. The society had been founded more than
half a century before but had become extinct "due to lack of
interest and chowder." In 1953 the organization changed its
name to the Lawn Chowder and Marching Society, thus making

eligible any dweller on either side of the lovely stretch of
green extending from the Rotunda to Cabell Hall, provided
he was "a great guy and a good friend." Officers were elected,
and the head marcher and chowder consumer rejoiced in the
sobriquet of "The Purple Shadow." All and sundry were assured
that the organization was "under no circumstances a
scholarship or a drinking club, but an honorary society." Another
manifesto spoke somewhat confusingly of an "Operation
Barrel," but lest this be misconstrued it was explained that
what the society is seeking is to "determine how much fun a
`barrel of monkeys' really is." Photographs of the group in
Corks and Curls show the members dressed in all varieties of
nondescript and outlandish costumes.

When not garbed for such special high jinks, Virginia men,
at least those belonging to fraternities, tended to dress very
much alike in the postwar 1940s and 1950s. In the words of
the Spectator, the typical fraternity man "wears what amounts
to a uniform, and unless he conforms to it, is ostracized by his
friends and cast into outer darkness. . . . First, he wears an
unpressed and sagging tweed coat . . . worn with the bottom
button buttoned . . . a black string tie which, by virtue of much
age and wear, has stretched to about twice its original length."
Slacks accompanied the tweed jacket, and white buckskin
shoes were often worn, sometimes with white socks. The Cavalier
Daily had a special lament: the tradition that first-year
men were supposed to wear hats went out, "but fast," after
World War II.

Normal routine at the university and all other educational institutions
was disrupted in 1950 by the outbreak of the Korean
War. Young men in college or about to matriculate were
once more uncertain as to what the future held. Enrollment at
the university in the fall of that year was 4,168, a drop of 548
compared with the total for twelve months before. This was
due, in part, to the calling up of reserves for the Korean conflict
and also to a decline in the number of students enrolled
under the GI Bill, since many of them had completed their
collegiate schooling. President Darden urged all matriculates
at the university to remain there until called. He stated that
"the best way for students to serve their country is to maintain
the highest possible level of scholarship until they are directed

to serve in other ways," and he added: "It was found during
World War II that one of the most serious weaknesses of the
military organization was the scarcity of college-trained personnel."
Defense Secretary George C. Marshall stressed the
importance of students' enrolling in reserve units and remaining
in college to complete their education and their military
training "as a patriotic duty." He described the ROTC as "a
fundamental element in all Department of Defense planning."

Unification of the armed forces at the university became a
reality when the Department of Defense authorized the establishment
there of an Air Force Reserve Officers' Training
Corps. Reserve officer units of the army and navy were already
on the Grounds. In addition, students were training in
the summers at Quantico in the platoon leaders' class for marine
corps officers.

The Navy Officer Training Corps had been functioning at
the university since 1941, and the army transportation corps
since World War II, while the Army Signal Corps established
a unit at the university in 1951. Students in these various units
who completed the required courses for the baccalaureate degree
qualified for commissions as second lieutenants or ensigns.
Twenty-five to fifty students would go to Richmond
every week for preinduction physical examinations and would
then return to Charlottesville. Many Virginia men served in
Korea; twenty-nine lost their lives.

By 1954 peacetime routine had returned, and the Cavalier
Daily was protesting "ungentlemanly conduct" by altogether
too many students. "We have more people wearing repp ties
than we have gentlemen," said the editor. "Those men who
`boo' and `hiss' in class, at movies and athletic events behave as
anything but gentlemen. . . . We have on occasion witnessed
the flagrant disregard of respect in class when members have
felt it necessary to `boo' the instructor." Accompanying this
comment was a letter from James N. Pendleton, "an off-andon
resident of Charlottesville, with a wide acquaintance
among the faculty and students," who wrote: "A number of
university students have succeeded in making the term `Virginia
gentleman' a complete and utter travesty . . . ill-bred
adolescents who, unable to hold their liquor, make asses of
themselves at so many of the sporting events . . . [and] in the

local movie houses." Not only so, but by 1958 the Cavalier Daily
said standards of dress were deteriorating shockingly: "As
each spring day moves by, the dress of a large number of students
becomes more appalling and outrageous. . . . T-shirts,
soiled sport shirts, dirty khakis and sockless feet can all be seen
at some time during a walk through the Grounds. . . . Warm
weather does not excuse such poor taste."

In the area of college politics, the University Party, controlled
by the fraternities, had long been dominant. The rival
Cavalier Party had been successful only once since the war, in
1951. Lambda Pi and Skull & Keys, two societies in the college,
were both affiliated with the University Party, which had become
so powerful that it was decided to end this arrangement
and place each society at the head of a party. For decades before
World War II such an arrangement had been in force,
with Lambda Pi heading one group and Skull & Keys the
other. During the war the navy's V-12 was so important and
influential that the two organizations felt it necessary to combine
in order to form an opposition bloc. In 1953 they decided
to separate again, and in the spring of that year the two parties
that they sponsored nominated slates. Each fraternity was
given votes in choosing the nominees, as were the residence
houses and the old dorms. Students not coming under any of
these headings were granted at-large representation in the
voting. The system seemed an improvement, and somewhat
more interest in the elections was created. The Engineering
School, with Theta Tau and Trigon as rival organizations, was
operating under a similar plan.

But even with the new and better-balanced arrangement,
there was too much indifference in the college among the rank
and file. A small segment of the student body was involved
in many forms of extracurricular activity but, as William L.
Tazewell, editor of the Cavalier Daily, expressed it, the rest of
the students "attend classes occasionally, the flicks frequently,
and have a `great time' on weekends." Two years later dismay
was still being voiced over the indifference of the average student
to university politics and all other types of politics, national
and international, as well as to "cultural and educational
events, famines, hurricanes—everything with the possible exception
of the World Series." As Staige D. Blackford, Jr.,
phrased it a few years before, "A man who might bring up the

question of world affairs at a `bull-session' is usually about as
welcome as a descendant of Thaddeus Stevens at a Daughters
of the Confederacy convention." Yet the political parties at the
university during this era at least had platforms, involving
such questions as the Honor System, dormitory living, proctors,
class cutting, parking, establishment of a student bookstore,
and so on. These platforms were given lavish publicity
in the student newspaper. Back in the 1920s there were no
platforms; two slates of candidates were nominated, but nobody
on either of them had a word to say concerning issues, if
any.

And while the great majority of undergraduates in the
1940s and 1950s also were oblivious to significant events on
the Grounds and uninterested in political or cultural movements
for the advancement of the university, the opposite was
true of the small group of student leaders. The extent and
diversity of their involvement in university affairs was highly
impressive. They served on a great variety of extracurricular
organizations and committees, such as the Student Council,
Judiciary Committee, Stadium Committee, Bad Check Committee,
Honor Committee, Student Union, Interfraternity
Council, as dorm counselors, editors of publications or officers
of the Jefferson Society, on debating teams, in the Glee Club
or dramatics, and on athletic teams, both intercollegiate and
intramural. The extraordinary extent of their involvement
made one wonder occasionally when they found time for their
studies. Yet these leaders were often excellent students.

The dorm counselors were hailed as "unsung heroes . . .
better-than-average students who take time from their own
activities to lend a helping hand to first-year men." They were
willing to be interrupted while studying and even to be awakened
in the middle of the night by distraught students, the
student newspaper said.

As a special inducement to newly arrived matriculates to
"hit the books" instead of the road to Sweet Briar or Hollins,
a chapter of Phi Eta Sigma for high-ranking freshmen scholars
was installed after World War II. An average grade of at
least 90 was required for membership. In 1951, 29 first-year
men out of 603 were initiated, the following year 35 of 523,
and the year after that 52 of 564.

57. Captain Norton Pritchett, director of athletics, 1935-51.

The university administration was in favor of adopting the
class system, Josh Darden, president of the Student Council,
informed that body in 1958. He said such a system, a subject
of discussion for many years, was regarded as promoting "togetherness"
and as enabling first-year men to adjust more
readily to college life. Also, it was seen as stimulating alumni
activity. He himself favored the class system, as did the Cavalier
Daily. But the Student Council ended by defeating the plan, 8
to 5. A few weeks later the editor of the paper overheard two
first-year men discussing the question. "What do you think of
the class system?" one asked. "Not much," was the reply. "Hell,
nobody goes to class around here anyway."

University of Virginia debating teams were making a good
record in the postwar years. In the various tournaments they
won more than 60 percent of their contests. Among those in
which they took part were the Atlantic Coast Conference debates
at Chapel Hill, the New York University tournament, the
Temple University novice tournament, and others. In 1956
the record was superlative. The university team was undefeated
in its presentation of the National College Topic for
that year, "Resolved, that the U.S. should discontinue direct
economic aid to foreign countries." Five Virginia students also
won the National Contest in Public Discussion of the Speech
Association of America, without leaving Charlottesville. It was
done with a tape recording and was a twenty-five minute exploration
of how best to carry out the U.S. Supreme Court's
decision for racial integration in the public schools. Top debaters
were elected to the national honorary debate society,
Delta Sigma Rho. Much credit for the good showing of the
university's debaters during these years was given to Dr. J. Jeffery
Auer, coauthor of a textbook in the field, and Robert C.
Jeffrey, director of debate.

Students in the McIntire undergraduate School of Commerce
tied in 1958 with those from two other institutions for
the highest score in the United States in a nationwide contest
participated in by 6,000 students from some fifty colleges and
universities. These tests were devised to evaluate qualifications
for business careers, especially those having some relationship
to accounting. University of Virginia entrants in these
contests had rated above the national average for some years.

Art and architecture students revived the Beaux Arts Ball
in 1952 after it had been abandoned for nearly a quarter of a
century. The annual event had been allowed to lapse during
the depression. More than four hundred costumed dancers
whirled about in the revived version of the ball, which took
place in the Art Museum.

Attendance at the regular dances in the Memorial Gymnasium
at Openings, Midwinters, and Easters was falling sharply
in the 1950s. Warnings were issued that the quality of the music
at these affairs would deteriorate unless there was improved
patronage. Fraternity parties were more and more to
the fore on big weekends. The Elis and Tilkas were combining
during this period to sponsor a dance each year away from
the university Grounds. In 1958, for example, it was held at
the Villa Riviera, on Route 250 east of Charlottesville.

While these two organizations had their critics, especially
during the 1960s, they also had their defenders. The critics
charged that Eli Banana and Tilka were concerned only with
sponsoring dances and having a good time and were not interested
in any sort of activity designed to improve the university
or the community. Defenders conceded that the two ribbon
societies were not endowed with a social conscience and
indeed were not panting to save mankind, but argued that
they had a useful role to play. Dean B. F. D. Runk, for example,
said he regarded the ribbon and ring societies as "part
of the hierarchy"; they were "looked upon with dignity and
respect . . . and on the whole did a great deal of good for the
university . . . a part of the tradition."

An organization which did not fall into the abovementioned
category but which undoubtedly did much constructive work
for the university was the ultrasecret Seven Society. Its insignia,
consisting of a large 7, plus alpha, omega, and what appears
to be the symbol of infinity, is seen all over the Grounds,
often in the most unexpected places. Founded just after the
turn of the century, it moves in such secrecy as to baffle those
who would penetrate its mystery. Funds for many important
causes have been contributed by the society, whose members
become known only after their deaths. A typical episode—at
commencement exercises in the late 1940s—was described in
the University of Virginia Magazine: "The speaker was concluding

his address when suddenly a small explosion was heard
just above the proscenium arch, and a piece of paper fell to
the floor . . . a check made out to the Bursar for $17,777.77.
Directions attached stipulated that the money was to be used
as a loan fund in honor of Dr. John L. Newcomb, the retiring
president of the university." New electronic chimes were provided
by the Sevens for the University Chapel in 1957, at a
cost of $9,777.77. The Sevens also donated the handsome silver
mace carried at the head of all academic processions.
When "Jim" McConnell of the Lafayette Escadrille was shot
down over the battlelines in France during World War I, "a
mysterious floral Seven appeared before his tomb—three
thousand miles from Charlottesville," wrote Henry Noble Taylor,
one of the most brilliant young journalists of his time, who
would himself be killed some years later in a crossfire in the
Congo. And in 1920, when the $423 traveling fund of the
Virginia baseball team was stolen from the team's manager in
a Washington hotel, the manager found $423 in an envelope
under his pillow, on his return to the university. With the
money was a small card bearing the "7" insignia.

The name College Topics had been considered for some years
to be provincial and inappropriate for a university publication,
and in the spring of 1948 a student poll was held to test
sentiment concerning a change. Of those taking part, 62 percent
favored a new name, and the preferred designation was
the Cavalier Daily. It was adopted in May of that year. By 1950
circulation of the paper had risen to 5,000.

Two publications of the Law School were receiving wide acclaim,
in addition to the Virginia Law Review, which had enjoyed
a national reputation from its inception. One was the
Virginia Law Weekly, adjudged year after year the best newspaper
published by students at any American law school. The
other was the Reading Guide. In a resolution passed by the
Alumni Library Committee of the Law School, this publication
was praised highly, and the committee added: "Outstanding
lawyers and judges from various parts of the country volunteered
the information that this book review had really
become their reading guide."

A widely repeated canard concerning the graduation of
Franklin D. Roosevelt, Jr., from the Law School in 1940 and
Prof. Armistead M. Dobie's appointment to a federal judgeship

58. Tom Scott, the university's first
two-sport all-American—in football,
1952, and lacrosse, 1953.

was finally laid to rest in 1954. Fulton Lewis, Jr., a university
alumnus who conducted a nationally broadcast radical
right-wing radio program, stated over the air that young Roosevelt's
grades were so low that his father had to agree to make
Professor Dobie a federal judge and deliver the address at Finals
in order for young Roosevelt to graduate. Officials of the
Law School wrote Lewis immediately that "Roosevelt's grades
are available at the registrar's office and are far better than
Lewis assumed." It also was pointed out that Dobie had been
named to the federal bench approximately one year before
the younger Roosevelt graduated. About the only accurate
statement had been that President Roosevelt did make the
Commencement address in 1940—at which time he took occasion
to denounce Mussolini of Italy for plunging his dagger
into the back of his neighbor, France. Fulton Lewis made a
complete retraction and apology, as requested by the Law
School. He said he had heard the story from many directions
and had received letters on the subject from prominent lawyers.

Robert F. Kennedy, who would later serve as Attorney General
in the cabinet of his brother, President John F. Kennedy,
was a 1951 law graduate. He was president of the Student
Legal Forum and brought to the university as speakers many
prominent Washington figures, including Thurmond Arnold,
Arthur Krock, William O. Douglas, Ralph Bunche, James M.
Landis, and Joseph McCarthy. He was complimented on the
quality of his programs.

Edward M. (Ted) Kennedy, brother of "Bobby" and "Jack"
also was a Law School graduate (1959). Some alumni and others
objected strongly to his admission, since he had been suspended
at Harvard for cheating. The rationale for allowing
him to enter seems to have been that since he had been readmitted
to Harvard, had successfully completed the course
there, and had been certified by Harvard's dean as a student
and graduate "in good standing," there was no valid basis for
refusing him admission to Virginia. Like his brother, he was
president of the Legal Forum there. He won the moot court
competition, although his professors said he was only an average
student.

The academic deans decided a few years later, in the early
1960s, that there would be no further admission of students

who had been disciplined in other colleges for lying, cheating,
or stealing.

The Virginia Business Review, said to be the first publication
of its kind issued by an undergraduate School of Business,
appeared at the university in 1958, sponsored by the McIntire
School. The Review was issued in the spring and fall and was
widely distributed to businessmen, corporations, and educators
in the eastern United States. Each number was underwritten
by one or two Virginia industries or businesses.

The university had "the only Speech and Drama graduate
program in the Atlantic Coast states between Florida and New
York," according to Professor Jeffery Auer, chairman of the
Department of Speech and Drama. The Virginia Players, in
addition to their regular series of five public dramatic productions,
scheduled an annual Shakespearean play. High school
students from throughout central Virginia were invited to a
special performance; in each of several years during the 1950s
about seven hundred of these students saw such plays as Othello
and Romeo and Juliet. Other shows of a different type were
presented during this period by the Punch and Julep Club,
founded in 1953 and giving one performance annually.

The Glee Club was providing musical entertainment at the
university and for alumni chapters in various cities. It offered
"serious choral literature" as well as lighter numbers. Frequent
concerts with nearby women's colleges provided opportunities
for music with both male and female voices.

The university marching and concert band had come in for
much adverse criticism over the years, but now an organization
had been put together that evoked high praise. "Around
this school," said the Cavalier Daily, "there has always been a
lot of criticism of almost everything. Dissatisfaction with the
status quo has almost become a standard characteristic of the
standard `Virginia gentleman.' . . . It is now time to commend
and congratulate the university band for a surprising recovery
and a fine showing at last Saturday's athletic endeavor." President
Darden had set up a faculty committee in the spring of
1959, and a $12,000 appropriation had been obtained for uniforms,
instruments, and facilities. Director Sidney P. Hodkinson
of the music faculty was in charge, and much favorable
comment was heard. But a few years later there were renewed
laments and criticisms, and the football cocaptains were meeting

with the band to try to solve the shortcomings. Membership
in the band had shrunk to twenty-five.

A Rifle and Pistol Club was formed to promote target shooting
and hold rifle and pistol competitions. The club also sent
teams to compete in National Rifle Association matches.

Opening of the radio station WUVA, owned and operated
by students, was a feature of the year 1947, and it soon became
well established. From a modest beginning it gradually
expanded its programming and coverage. The "Cavalier
Magazine of the Air" was used as a nucleus at first, Martin
Hiden was the manager, and music was the principal offering,
plus student forums, group discussions, and newscasts from
United Press. Athletic events that were not being broadcast by
anyone else were covered. WUVA claimed to have "the widest
coverage of any station of its type." Revenue was obtained
from advertising. By 1952 it was on the air daily from "Yawn
Patrol" at 7 A.M. to 1 A.M. Four years later it began to devote
itself mainly to popular music. In 1962 it affiliated with the
Columbia Broadcasting System, broadcasting CBS programs
and five newscasts daily.

Another radio station, WTJU, began broadcasting on the
Grounds in 1956. It was organized as an extension of the
Speech and Drama Department under the direction of
George P. Wilson and has always been a nonprofit and noncommercial
FM station, owned by the university's rector and
visitors and supported by student fees and contributions. Only
classical music was played at first, but the station later broadcast
a much greater variety of music. Both WTJU and WUVA
serve as training grounds for careers in radio.

Religious life at the university during the years following
World War II was well organized and included a diversified
series of programs under the leadership of the Reverend Oscar
B. Woolridge, Jr., secretary of the YMCA. On the agenda
were regular services at the chapel, student and faculty meetings
for discussion of contemporary religious problems, interfaith
conferences, and the annual University Preaching Series,
during which classes were suspended. (The shade of Thomas
Jefferson must have shuddered at this class suspension!) The
annual Richards Foundation Lectures on Religion were given
by a noted scholar or churchman. Other such lectures were

presented each Sunday evening in Madison Hall by members
of the faculty.

Programs and services were sponsored by the Interfaith
Council, composed of two representatives of each denomination
or faith, to promote greater understanding and cooperation
among Protestants, Catholics, and Jews. Voluntary services,
conducted by students, and with a faculty member or Charlottesville
pastor as speaker, were being held on Sunday and
Wednesday afternoons in the chapel. The Sunday services included
musical programs by visiting choirs from colleges and
prep schools around the state. Closer relations between faculty
and students were promoted by a series of student meetings
in the homes of professors. Such subjects as "Christianity
and Communism" and "What Constitutes the Educated Man?"
were discussed.

Student groups sponsored by local churches were cooperating
with the "Y." They included the Canterbury Club, Episcopal;
Wesley Foundation, Methodist; Westminster Club, Presbyterian;
Baptist Students Union; Unitarian Student Club;
Newman Club for Catholics; and Hillel Foundation for Jews.

Students guided underprivileged Charlottesville youths in
an athletic and recreational program, under the auspices of
the Belmont Boys Club and sponsorship of the "Y."

The YMCA also sponsored frequent recreational programs
for students at Madison Hall, including dances and buffet suppers.
These were said to be especially popular during university
dance weekends.

When the "Y" celebrated its centennial in 1958, there was a
yearlong program of lectures and other events. Eminent religious
leaders from Oxford, Harvard, and elsewhere participated.
Daniel L. Gibbs, Jr., director of the "Y," arranged the
program, in cooperation with a faculty committee headed by
Prof. Hardy C. Dillard. Woodrow Wilson had been the
speaker in 1905 when Madison Hall was dedicated.

The Newman Club, headquarters of the Roman Catholic
students, acquired a new home on Jefferson Park Avenue in
1958. A large building was purchased and converted. The
Baptist Student Union obtained a new home the following
year, also on Jefferson Park Avenue, replacing the organization's
headquarters adjoining the University Baptist Church.
Weekly Saturday night suppers were scheduled, and study

hall, recreation, and counseling for students also were on the
program.

A University of Virginia athlete who had an international impact
after World War II was Harold M. Burrows, Jr., of Charlottesville.
He was tennis captain for three years and winner
of the Virginia state men's singles in each of those years.
Known as "Prince Hal" for his attractive personality and fine
court manners, he also was a star in intramural athletics. Following
graduation he began playing the national and international
tennis circuit. Burrows defeated thirty-three members
of Davis Cup teams from various countries in matches all over
the world, including Drobny of Czechoslovakia, at that time
the number one player in Europe. In his best year he ranked
eleventh in the United States. As a doubles player, teamed
with Straight Clark, he won many matches against internationally
ranked players, notably Lew Hoad and Ken Rosewall,
whom Burrows and Clark prevented from winning the
"grand slam." Hoad and Rosewall had taken the Australian,
French, and Wimbledon titles, but they lost to Burrows and
Clark in the national grass-court doubles finals at Brookline,
Mass. The American team ranked number three in the United
States.

Tennis was one of the most successful of all sports at Virginia,
thanks to such stars as Hal Burrows and Alphonso
Smith, and to Carl ("Red") Rohmann, who coached the Cavalier
teams for twenty-eight years. The team usually won the
great majority of its matches, but the university did not provide
tennis scholarships and was at a serious disadvantage in
competing with institutions that offered them. Red Rohmann
said that "the best team we ever had was when Shelton Horsley
was captain in 1950."

Boxing was resumed full blast in 1946, and the Cavaliers
won five of six dual matches, losing to Wisconsin, the national
champions, 4-½ to 3-½. Virginia was runner-up to Army in
the Eastern Intercollegiates. A gratifying accolade came to the
Cavaliers in 1947. They were barely defeated by Syracuse at
the university, but "the ovations given Syracuse before and
after the bouts were . . . the finest reception ever given a visiting
team," R. D. Simmons, head coach of Syracuse, wrote.
"The sportsmanship shown by everyone was of the finest order."

59. Mrs. A. E. Walker, hostess at the
Student Union for 35 years and
friend and counselor to countless students.

The following year Virginia won the Eastern Intercollegiates
for the first time, six individual championships going to
the orange and blue. The six winners were the three Miragliotta
brothers, Jimmy, Basil, and Joe; Grover Masterson,
Ralph Shoaf, and Allen Hollingsworth.

Lacrosse, wrestling, and soccer were recognized as major
sports during these years.

An editorial on athletics entitled "Failure to Educate" appeared
in the Alumni News for November 1948 and caused
much discussion. The author was Marvin B. Perry, Jr., '40,
managing editor of the paper, later a dean at Virginia and
president of Goucher College. He said, in part:

Praise from alumni in letters to the Alumni News was almost
unanimous, although many who disagreed evidently didn't
trouble to write. A notable dissenter who did so was Harrison
Mann, '31. He wrote that "considering the editorial in a vacuum,
possibly it is theoretically correct, but I submit that the
alumni who did something about the problem facing the university
in the thirties were not dealing with a theory but with
a fact." Mann went on to say that "an `interest' in the football
team increased alumni interest generally and brought more
alumni back to the university, and in time created a better understanding
of its problems. . . . The common recognition
among the alumni who supported the `scholarship' program
that football was not an end in itself conspired to turn the
energies of these same men into other fields of alumni endeavor.
. . . It was largely this self-same group of alumni who
were responsible for the annual alumni-giving drive which has
done so much for every phase of the university's life."

Football at Virginia after the war was in a stronger than normal
position, thanks to a stellar group of athletes from all over

the country brought in by the naval units and to Coaches Murray
and Guepe. Murray left in 1945 but the team continued
winning under Guepe.

The most sensational victory of all occurred in 1947 when
Harvard was trounced 47-0 at Scott Stadium, the worst defeat
sustained by the crimson since 1884. It was the first trip any
Harvard football team had made into the South, and this was
supposedly the best eleven they had fielded in fifteen years.
The famous columnist Red Smith wrote in his New York Herald
Tribune sports column that Harvard's defeat was "the most
terrific triumph for the cornpone aristocracy since the first
Bull Run." He added that "last year they beat Princeton
[20-6] . . . the first time they'd ever scored against the Tigers,
too." The Harvard game was notable also for the fact that
Chester Pierce, a black, was in the Harvard lineup. No Virginia
team had ever played against a black before, and it had
hardly ever happened in the South. Careful preparations
were made at the university for this precedent-shattering
event, and it was stressed to the students that the entire country
would be watching. All went smoothly; Pierce was applauded
as he left the lineup. "I have never seen a better-conducted
crowd at a football game," President Darden said.
Harvard coach Dick Harlow declared that Virginia "played as
clean football as any team I have seen in a long time." Members
of that eleven, which lost only to North Carolina and Tulane
during the season, included Grover Jones, John Papit,
George Grimes, Bruce Bailey, George Neff, Joe Kirkland, Billy
Pennell, Lockwood Frizzell, Joe McCary, Bob Weir, John
Thomas, and Ray Brown. Several of these would star in the
future, and fullback Papit would be chosen a first-team allAmerican
by NEA in 1949. He was the first college back to
gain over one thousand yards in each of three seasons. Papit
joined the Washington Redskins in 1950 and two years later
was traded to the Green Bay Packers.

Art Guepe had seven winning seasons at Virginia before
leaving in 1953 to become head coach at Vanderbilt. On his
teams were two other all-Americans in addition to Papit. One
was Joe Palumbo, captain and guard on the 1951 team, chosen
by Associated Press and NEA to the first eleven, and Tom
Scott, defensive end, a first-string Associated Press selection in
1952. Scott went to the Philadelphia Eagles and finished his

career with the New York Giants as an all-pro linebacker. As a
lacrosse player at Virginia, Scott was also given honorable
mention for all-American.

The University Senate ruled in 1951 that although many of
Virginia's rivals were playing first-year men on their varsity
teams, the university could not do so. This ruling was reaffirmed
the following year.

The University of Virginia had made it clear by 1949 that it
had no intention of abiding by the so-called sanity code of the
National Collegiate Athletic Association (NCAA). This code
had been devised, it was said, in order to avoid excessive commercialism.
It provided that athletes could receive pay only if
they performed work in jobs around the institution. The university
refused to create phony jobs in order to meet this provision,
and declared frankly that it was giving athletic scholarships.
The Student Aid Foundation had just been organized
for the purpose, with Robert V. Hatcher, '23, as president. In
refusing to abide by the sanity code the university was risking
expulsion from the NCAA. However, that body not only decided
against penalizing Virginia; it dropped the sanity code.

The university received a shattering blow in 1951 when
Capt. Norton Pritchett, age fifty-seven, director of athletics
since 1935, died of a heart attack. He had done much to improve
the athletic situation at Virginia, both intercollegiate
and intramural. Admired by all, Captain Pritchett had been a
strong and consistent influence for clean competition and
aboveboard standards. Chauncey Durden, sports editor of the
Richmond Times-Dispatch, termed him "gentleman and sportsman,"
and said that whereas Pritchett had great hopes for the
sanity code when it was introduced, "his brilliant speech [at
the 1949 meeting of the NCAA] sealed the doom" of the code.
When Captain Pritchett died, Durden wrote: "Poised, handsome
and intellectual, `Cap' was an imposing figure when he
faced an audience. His voice was of finest timbre and his diction
was perfect. His sincerity was overwhelming. There was
a man." President Darden said, "His youthful enthusiasm, his
unimpeachable integrity, and his deep love for everything
connected with the university, won for him the admiration
and affection of all with whom he worked." His portrait was
presented to the Athletic Department in 1955.

60. Fredson T. Bowers, professor of
English and dean of the faculty of
Arts and Sciences.

[ILLUSTRATION]

61. Ralph W. Cherry, dean of the
School of Education, 1956-68.

Another setback was sustained when Robert (Pic) Fuller,
head coach of lacrosse, assistant football coach, and sometime
wrestling coach, left in 1953 to enter private business. He "virtually
fathered lacrosse as a major sport and coached the Cavaliers
to three winning seasons and a share of the national
championship in 1952" with Rensselaer Polytechnic, said the
Cavalier Daily. First-team all-Americans at Virginia from 1948
to 1954 were Bobby Proutt, Billy Hooper (twice), Gordon
Jones, Tom Compton, and Jimmy Grieves. Pic Fuller was so
highly regarded that the Raven Society gave him a farewell
dinner at which he was presented with a silver cocktail shaker
and tray.

A monumental hullaballoo erupted in 1951 when the
Gooch Report on athletics was issued. Prof. Robert K. Gooch,
a Rhodes Scholar and onetime star athlete, was chairman of a
faculty committee appointed to make recommendations concerning
the university's athletic policy. The other members
were Professors Arthur Kyle Davis, Jr., also a Rhodes Scholar,
and Jesse Beams, the internationally famous physicist.

The committee recommended that all athletic scholarships
be eliminated and that the faculty be given back control of
athletics. It expressed a preference for abandonment of intercollegiate
football at Virginia, rather than continue prevailing
policies. The report declared that the university had surrendered
"to `big time' athletics," and referred to "various reprehensible
aspects of the present situation . . . abuses resulting
from athletic scholarships, athletic activities of student aid
foundations and the like . . . institutional payment for the academic
coaching of athletes, pressure—especially on younger
instructors—for grades or continuance in the course . . . the
withdrawal of athletes at the end of the season, and so on."
The committee's definition of "reprehensible" apparently differed
from that of the Cavalier Daily, which said that "nowhere
does the report intimate that there is any malpractice involved
in the administration of Virginia's athletic program." The faculty
of the College of Arts and Sciences endorsed the Gooch
Report's recommendations overwhelmingly, but the faculties
of the other schools rejected the report "after trying to revise
it," the Cavalier Daily said.

Many alumni were furious. The Alumni News referred to
their "outraged shrieks," and the Board of Managers of the

alumni association declared unanimously in formal resolutions
that the report "was conceived, formulated and presented
in an unreasonable, unfair and misleading manner." It
"smelled of high treason," in the view of many, the News declared.
Irate alumni were asking two questions: "What has the
faculty to say about the source of any student's means as long
as he passes his work, and . . . who in heaven's name chose
such a miserable time to bring forth anything that could be
construed as criticism of the university's athletic program?"
Virginia was having a series of highly successful football seasons.
There had been recent scandals at other institutions, and
the Gooch Report's criticisms and conclusions were seen as implying
that there might be similar irregularities at Charlottesville.
Professors Gooch, Davis, and Beams, whose motives
were above reproach, were abused and attacked by some
alumni and their integrity was impugned.

President Darden pointed out that no university or state
funds were being used for the athletic scholarships and that
of eighty-one students who earned football letters from 1945
to 1948, no fewer than fifty-two received academic degrees,
or 64.2 percent, as against 67.3 percent for the college as a
whole. And while the athletic scholarships being given were
larger than any offered for academic achievement, they covered
only room, board, tuition, and books, the News pointed
out. It also mentioned that athletic aid would be withdrawn if
the grantee failed to advance toward a degree and that revenue
from successful football teams helped pay for other intercollegiate
sports and for intramurals. "To give up football,
which means so much to student, teacher and alumnus alike,
is unthinkable," said the News.

Another furor arose when President Darden announced in
November 1951 that although Virginia had won eight games
that fall and lost only one, the team would not be permitted to
accept a "bowl bid," if one were received. There were howls
from many alumni over this, but Charles R. Fenwick, a former
football star at Virginia and supporter of athletic scholarships,
said that Darden was right. Bowls are "totally unnecessary and
make no contribution to the soundness of the game," said Fenwick.
He also urged elimination of spring practice.

The Cavalier Daily pointed out early in 1952 that the recommendations
of the much-denounced Gooch Report were

similar to those of the American Council on Education. It
added that "there are some athletes here that dress and act
more like gorillas than gentlemen." The paper drew solace
from the fact that "requirements established for the rewarding
of scholarships next year show that steps are being taken
to remedy this situation." This was apparently the only tangible
result that flowed from the Gooch Report.

Virginia's seven winning football seasons under Coach Art
Guepe were suddenly terminated when Guepe accepted an
offer to be head coach at Vanderbilt. The university entered
immediately into a staggering series of almost unbroken defeats.

The Atlantic Coast Conference (ACC) had just been formed,
and there was hot debate as to whether the university should
join. President Darden and Rector Barron F. Black opposed
the move, while Athletic Director Gus Tebell backed it
strongly. A poll of students returned a majority in favor of
joining. When the Board of Visitors met, Darden and Black
expressed opposition, as did a considerable percentage of
alumni. Opponents argued that some of the members of the
ACC had few if any standards of eligibility and that Virginia
would end up in the cellar. But the board voted 6 to 4 to accept
the invitation to join, thus terminating seventeen years
during which the university was not a member of any conference.
Doubts as to the wisdom of the move were soon heightened
by a series of disastrous football seasons, and Corks and
Curls said, "We find ourselves against a number of colleges
believing in `big time' athletics in every respect. Perhaps we
are over our heads."

Further grief came to the student body with the passing of
Seal, the much beloved canine mascot of Virginia teams. Seal
was a cross-eyed black mongrel mutt who attended all games
and many other university functions and distinguished himself
particularly in 1949 at the Virginia-Penn football game in
Philadelphia. Seal was about ten years old when he succumbed
in late 1953 to a combination of ailments. He was buried with
ceremonies and tributes accorded few citizens of the university
community. The "V" Club was in charge of arrangements
and the Athletic Department paid for the casket and gravediggers.
Some two thousand persons turned out for the procession
from the University Hospital, where Seal died, to the

grave just outside the University Cemetery. The cortege was
led by the University Band playing the Dead March; a giantsized
portrait of the deceased was carried by admirers, an elegant
hearse bore the remains, and it was followed by a black
Cadillac containing "student dignitaries." The flag in front of
the Rotunda was at half-mast as the procession passed. Pallbearers
at the cemetery were leading student athletes. Seven
handsome wreaths from that number of organizations, including
Eli, Tilka, and Z, decorated the grave. Dr. Charles J.
Frankel, varsity team doctor, delivered the funeral oration.

Seal had made himself more or less immortal by showing
his contempt for the opposition in no uncertain terms during
the half at the Pennsylvania football game in 1949. As described
by Jack Hunter, editor of the Cavalier Daily: "Slowly he
walked from midfield to the Quaker side. Indifferently he inspected
their cheerleading appurtenances. Eighty thousand
people watched with bated breath. Coolly, insolently Seal
lifted a leg—the rest is history." One of the Pennsylvania
cheerleader's megaphones had been copiously irrigated, to
raucous applause from the Cavalier contingent in the stands.
Seal was known from time to time thereafter as Caninus Megaphonus
Pennsylvanus.

Dr. Frankel's brief funeral oration was built around this piquant
episode. "I can see Seal now," he declared, "leading the
celestial parade with golden hydrants and gilded megaphones
at his disposal. . . . I know of no other individual at the university,
or animal, who could attract as many mourners to his
funeral. Of course, none of us has ever had the same opportunity
with a megaphone." Taps was sounded and the program
ended with "The Good Old Song." Seal's grave was next
to Beta's near the cemetery entrance; it was later marked with
a headstone similar to Beta's, bearing Seal's likeness, and with
lines that spoke of him as "Mascot and Friend of the Students
of the University."

There was never another dog around the Grounds with an
appeal comparable to that of Seal or his charismatic predecessor,
Beta. A nondescript hound named Nasty, or Nasty N.
Dog, seemed a possible successor. But Nasty was hit by a beer
truck and killed after only two years as the "official barker and
mascot." He never really caught on.

This was a dismal era for Virginia football, but there were

some bright spots. Mel Roach was a fine quarterback as well as
a good basketball player and a particular star in baseball. As a
second baseman he had offers from several big league teams,
and he signed with the Milwaukee Braves. Gus Tebell called
Roach "the finest all-around athlete I've seen in my 23 years
here." Joe Hicks, a hard-hitting Virginia outfielder, signed
with the Chicago White Sox and played for ten years in the
major leagues.

Other outstanding football stars were fullback Jim Bakhtiar,
chosen by Look magazine in 1957 on its first-string all-American
team, after he had led the ACC in rushing, and tackle
Henry Jordan. Jordan would later be a mainstay of the championship
Green Bay Packers and one of the top professional
football players in the country. At the university he was also
heavyweight wrestling champion of the ACC, winning thirtyseven
dual and tournament matches during his college career
and losing only one dual and three tournament matches. He
was runner-up for the NCAA heavyweight championship.

In basketball Buzzy Wilkinson was all-American in 1955. He
set university records in points scored, best scoring average,
most field goals, and most free throws scored. He also holds
the university record for best single season average, with 32.1
points, tops in the U.S., and 30.1 the preceding year. No University
of Virginia player before or since has approached these
figures. Yet in 1954 Virginia finished seventh in the ACC and
in 1955 sixth. Wilkinson's jersey was retired; Bill Dudley was
the only other university athlete who had received this honor.
It would be accorded Barry Parkhill, the all-American basketball
player, in later years.

The year 1954 was marked by a special event: Mary Slaughter,
daughter of Edward R. (Butch) Slaughter, the admired
coach of several sports at Virginia over the years, was awarded
a varsity letter in tennis, the first woman in the history of the
institution to be so honored. She won the Women's Eastern
Intercollegiate title.

And in 1957 Mebane (Meb) Turner, captain and star of the
university's wrestling team, went on to win the 174-pound
Amateur Athletic Union (AAU) championship. He was invited
to travel with the national AAU team on a summer tour of
Japan. Turner was later president of the University of Baltimore.

62. Colgate Darden, president of the university, 1947-59, and
his wife, Constance.

Pop Lannigan, whose Virginia basketball teams won 290
games and lost only 90, was elected posthumously to the College
Basketball Hall of Fame.

Archie Hahn, who succeeded Lannigan as track coach, died
in 1955 after a year of ill health. Hahn had produced some
stellar track and field men and Virginia recordholders. He
came to Virginia from Princeton and was track coach for
twenty-two years. As a student at the University of Michigan
he performed the astonishing feat of winning the 60, the 100,
and the 200 meters at the Olympic Games at St. Louis in 1904.

There was a flurry of discussion at this time as to the advisability
of returning to cardinal red and silver gray as the university's
colors. Orange and blue had been adopted in the late
nineteenth century, in part because red and gray dyes were
said to be unsatisfactory. But now this situation had changed
for the better, it was argued, and a few students and alumni
were sentimentally drawn to the symbolism of the earlier
colors, representing the Confederate uniform stained with
blood. Nothing came of it.

Football went from disaster to disaster. Ned McDonald, who
had succeeded Art Guepe as coach, resigned, and Ben S. Martin
of the U.S. Naval Academy's coaching staff took his place.
Martin gave up after two years. As an example of what he had
to contend with, Virginia lost the opening game in 1959 to
William and Mary 37-0, and the next nine games, nearly all
of them by equally lopsided scores. Joseph W. Dunn, Jr., an
alumnus, wrote that the William and Mary game was "the
most miserable exhibition of half-hearted, I-don't-give-a-damn
attitude ever put on by a college as large as the university."
Martin was succeeded by Richard Voris, line coach at the U.S.
Military Academy. He left after two years. Virginia football
had hit an all-time low. Only one game out of ten had been
won in 1958, and all ten were lost in 1959 and again in 1960.
In other words, the Cavaliers lost twenty-eight straight—close
to a national record.

There was far better performance in the somewhat exotic
game of polo. Launched in 1953 by a small group of interested
students, polo at Virginia soon was ranked with the best
in the nation. Part of Brook Hill Farm, owned by Prof. E. J.
Oglesby of the Engineering School, was rented by the polo
enthusiasts, and funds were raised from various sources.

Among the contributors were playboy Porfiro Rubirosa and
Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo, each of whom gave $500.
Don Hannah, a fourth-year student and the leader in getting
polo started at Virginia, was the first captain of the team and
a nationally ranked player. Other outstanding captains were
Malarkey Wall and Dick Riemenschneider, the last-named
rated in 1957 the number one player in the United States.
Virginia's rivalry with Yale was a particular feature, and the
Cavaliers defeated the Elis twice in succession during these
years. They also downed Cornell, another national power in
polo. Virginia came close to winning the national championship
in 1957. The Cavaliers defeated Cornell but lost to Yale
10-9 in the finals. Some two thousand spectators often turned
out during Easters at Brook Hill Farm to see the matches.

The University of Virginia and Washington and Lee lacrosse
teams combined in the summer of 1959 for a tour of
Australia. The Virginia team had toured England five years
previously, winning eight games and losing one. Eugene F.
(Gene) Corrigan, athletic director at Washington and Lee, arranged
the Australian tour before coming to Virginia as lacrosse
and soccer coach. The young men from both institutions
were lavishly entertained "down under," and much good
will was displayed. There were toasts at banquets and an exchange
of gifts. The Virginia and W&L players seemed to be
on friendly terms throughout, despite hot rivalry at home.
Student newspapers at the two universities were careful to
make only sportsmanlike references to one another's athletic
teams, but they not infrequently took digs at each other in
areas having to do with academics or social behavior. For example,
when the internationally famous British historian Arnold
Toynbee delivered a series of lectures at W&L, the Cavalier
Daily asked sneeringly why on earth Toynbee had
accepted this invitation from "the academy across the mountains,"
given its "comparative educational insignificance." And
Ring Tum Phi at the Lexington institution was not averse to
making pointed remarks concerning the supposed alcoholic
consumption of the average Wahoo.

Intramurals at Virginia took a great leap forward in 1957
when Butch Slaughter was placed in charge. Under his able
and imaginative leadership this branch of sport came to occupy
an increasingly important role in the university's affairs.

The long-anticipated campaign for a field house at the university
was launched in 1959 under the auspices of the alumni
association. At a dinner in Newcomb Hall $500,000 was announced
as the immediate goal, with Lawrence Lewis, Jr.,
president of the association, and W. Wright Harrison, president
of the People's National Bank of Charlottesville, as cochairmen
of the drive. Memorial Gymnasium had been outgrown
years before, and an adequate intercollegiate athletic
center was, by common consent, the greatest single athletic
need of the university. The site had been chosen on Copeley
Hill, directly across Emmet Street from Lambeth Field.