Twelve
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| University of Missouri Late 19th Century |
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| Columbia, Missouri 1867 |
When her father brought around the buggy the next morning, it occurred to Jennie her father had not viewed the campus as a tourist. He often performed work there; menial jobs for the most part, gotten at moments when extra help was required. Jennie was in a congenial mood, forgiving, at that moment, any harshness she sometimes felt toward her father.
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| From Jennie's 1913 Yearbook |
Off they went.
The campus was mostly visible from one end of the quadrangle formed by the imposing stone structures surrounding it. Clearly in view were the imposing columns many visitors think of when they think of the University of Missouri.
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| Academic Hall After the Fire |
“Auntie, do you know the story of the columns?”
“I understand they are the remains of the main building which burned.”
Orval interjected. “Did you know the fire started from the popping of the first lightbulb installed west of the Mississippi?”
“Oh my goodness!”
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| "The Columns" c. 1913 |
“This university is much more urbane that many think. Inside the building which burned were paintings and murals by Thomas Hart Benton, and many other grand objects belonging otherwise in museums.”
Jennie adored the painter Thomas Hart Benton, not just because he was from Missouri. His style was distinctive—as thought-provoking as his works were beautifully rendered.
“And over there, just behind that tree,” interjected Jennie, “is Thomas Jefferson’s original tombstone. His
family donated it in gratitude that this campus was designed to emulate the University of Virginia which Jefferson helped design.”
Jennie was warming up in her tour guide role, but she found she was enjoying hearing her father’s perspective. It helped her see him as someone other than an embarrassment or object of pity or scorn.
“They are currently in process of building what will be an enormous library! It will dwarf the other
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| Ellis Library 1913 Completed 1915 |
buildings, showing the pre-eminence of the value of research and learning on one’s own. Unfortunately, I will not be here to enjoy it once it is open in another three years or so. But I rejoice for the future students.”
As the three rode on in the open carriage with a bench seat for the driver facing forward, and two benches behind facing each other, the ladies took turns sitting on one side, then the other as they stopped to gaze at the building. Most buildings could be seen not only from the view that took in the quadrangle from a distance, but from a lane going behind the buildings.
“Auntie, look at this newly-built physics hall. This is where I probably spent most of my time. Both
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| From Jennie's 1913 Yearbook |
mathematics as well as most of the sciences—other than chemistry—have classrooms and professors’ offices here. I often studied between classes in an empty classroom. And, over there,” she pointed to another new edifice, “is the chemistry building, also recently completed. I only had one class there, but what a grand structure it is as well. Of course, both will benefit from trees they recently planted, once those trees have grown a few years.”
Jennie grew silent. Suddenly, she felt wistful. She knew she would miss all of this, though she had at times cursed having to walk to each of the buildings and endure classes she struggled with at times.
The evidence of Jennie’s battles for satisfactory marks sat half-hidden upon the desk Aunt Ella had sat at earlier. Jennie was unaware her aunt found a transcript of Jennie’s grades, and that Aunt Ella was surprised, if not appalled, at what she saw.
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| Jennie's Transcript |
Expecting her niece would have excellent marks in all subjects, she instead found the contrary. Indeed, it almost appeared Jennie was in danger of even graduating! Though her first instinct was to blurt out her dismay, Ella reconsidered. Who was she to judge? Her niece had untold obstacles to even be a university student, much less make it through to graduation. Maybe later she would take this up with her niece.
The tour continued, Orval breaking the silence of his two female passengers.
“That is where I spent a lot of time, Jennie. The chemistry building. They employed many of us to ensure the building opened on schedule. I proved useful, though my right hand no longer can hold a hammer. I’m a leftie now, and you might not realize I have become quite good at it. I wonder if perhaps I was born as a left-hander.”
It was the first time in three years Jennie’s father mentioned his accident, more or less. There was a dark period after he accidentally lost four of his fingers, and Jennie often took the brunt of his moods. As did his wife. Willie stayed on a couple of years after the accident, but she often returned to Chillicothe where her mother resided. Then she disappeared altogether.
“What is that imposing building, Jennie?” Aunt Ella pointed to an enormous Romanesque structure.
“That is Rothwell gymnasium. Perhaps needless to say, I spent no time in there. The only reason a female would go would perhaps be to observe a basketball game. Of which I have no interest.” Jennie held her head in such a way her chin jutted upward. Aware she might be appearing snooty, she explained further.
“Auntie, remember our discussion about me wearing glasses? Well, my eyesight makes it quite difficult to view, much less participate in sporting activities. I cannot focus upon moving objects quickly enough to be of use. It isn’t that I lack strength; it is a matter of coordination.”
Orval considered what he just heard his daughter utter and gently responded.
“Jennie, I have learned you can adapt to physical limitations. I am betting there are plenty of activities you could do.” Noting his daughter’s deepening crease on her forehead between her eyes, he added, “Of course, you do not require a gymnasium. It is a magnificent place, and ladies are welcome. I would warn you about the odor of sweat and the grunting of men lifting weights, or the vomiting of those who have run too far on the indoor track.”
“There’s a track?” Victor Hornback was a long-distance runner in high school. She did not know if he still ran for conditioning. Maybe she should have gone inside the past four years. Maybe she could have run, too. One of her classmates was a runner. Jennie envied her that she got to wear bloomers and a middy blouse which were not only freeing but signaled to others you were an athlete. Why didn’t she think of that before?
“Yes. There is an upper level. The track encircles the largest room on that level. It is almost a quarter-mile. I guess the architect did not plan the building around having a proper-sized track but did wish to accommodate those who ran. It is genius, in my opinion.”
Orval urged the horse pulling the buggy to move on.
“There is Switzler Hall. I love how it is covered with ivy. I have never been inside, though. Did you hear, Auntie, know that the university has a new school of journalism?”
“My goodness, no. Why would there be such a thing? Aren’t English classes enough?”
“Well, I think the aim is to instruct students on how to run a newspaper. I understand it is set up like a real news office, with printing presses and everything. What someone told me,” Jennie said, not offering that the “someone” was her object of affection, “is they actually incorporate a broad range of subjects. They study economics and law, for example. Of course, writing. Then they come back
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| From Jennie's 1913 Yearbook |
here and put their accumulated knowledge together with events, and, under the tutelage of professors, learn to write under deadline plus all other aspects of a newspaper. The desire of the department is to be known around the world as the foremost Department of Journalism.”
“Why, Jennie. I haven’t heard you express so much praise. Perhaps you would wish to get a second degree?”
“Goodness no, Father. I am quite ready to turn unruly or timid or undisciplined secondary schoolers into pupils who thirst for more. I cannot wait to get started in Linneus! But,” she added, “I will be attending graduate school for additional credits in education both this summer, and for one or two summers thereafter. I want to be accepted as a teacher anywhere in the State of Missouri.”
“I see. Does this mean you will be staying in Columbia another few months?” It embarrassed Orval to seem ignorant of his daughter’s plans while in the presence of his sister.
“Yes. But do not worry about the house. You can let it go after the end of June if you wish. I have made arrangements to stay with my friend, Miss Martin.” Jennie could not determine whether her father was relieved or upset. He had turned around and resumed driving.
“Orval, I wonder if we might stop at The Palms? I understand we could get some treats there, special ones for a dear niece I wish to indulge.”
Her brother nodded wordlessly, urging the horses to a quicker pace.
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