Contents
The Farwell
The
Farwell, across the street from Noyes Laboratory, has been a retreat
for chemists longer than anyone can remember. Beer was sold there
and gradually the practice was established of celebrating final
examinations by beer parties held at the expense of the new Ph.D.
When this tradition was at its height, matrimony and pseudo-matrimony
visited the Farwell. Not that beer was involved directly but more
probably the prosperity that it seemed to bring.
Students noticed the presence of certain gentlemen who seemed
to be in competition for the hand of widow Farwell.. Finally bets
were made as to who the lucky suitor would be. Chuck Huette, in
charge of the soda fountain, seemed to be the best source of information
and Matt Miller was delegated to pump him for the low-down we
wanted. Imagine Matt's surprise when he learned that Chuck himself
was the winner. Mrs. Farwell had become Mrs. Huette less than
a week before!
The marriage brought unexpected changes. Chuck was called for
military service and his wife joined him at camp. The Farwell
was sublet to a Greek and became Nick's Cafe. Nick surprised us
by bringing in several waitresses, all past their prime and definitely
Toulouse-Lautrec types. One of them, perhaps by contrast, seemed
rather nice and we decided that she must be Nick's wife. But we
were wrong.
I learned of our error on the bowling alleys in downtown Champaign.
A fellow bowler asked if I ever went to Nick's Cafe, saying that
Nick was a friend of his. I tried to think of something good about
Nick and finally said that he had a nice wife. The bowler looked
at me in amazement. "Wife! Why Nick's never been married."
Therapy
One of the better students in my undergraduate course cut class
a couple of days then proceeded to fail the next test. When I
demanded an explanation he was evasive and shamefaced, but he
was incapable of inventing an untrue story. Only after considerable
insistence did I bring him to tell me what had happened. My first
guess hit the mark -- his girl had quit him. I could hardly blame
him for making for the nearest beer joint determined to drown
his sorrows. Apparently in his case the old saying that misery
loves company held true. He soon found himself exchanging confidences
with another boy who also was drowning his sorrows and, remarkably,
for the same reason. In fact, not only for the same reason but
for the same girl!
My student had no further trouble with my
course.
Vacuum
The somewhat unusual arrangement at Illinois that placed chemistry,
biochemistry and chemical engineering in a single department seemed
normal to me, perhaps because physiological and industrial chemistry,
as they were called originally, had not reached, in 1927, the
maturity in the national picture that independent administrative
units are expected to have.
Years later when East Chemistry was built the situation had changed
so much that it seemed natural for these mushrooming groups to
be given the new quarters. This decision may well have encountered
opposition from the chemists. All I know is that it was an administrative
choice; as usual the responsibility could be placed on the shoulders
of Adams only by hearsay, at least as far as I could find out.
The wisdom of the decision and the skill with which it was handled
reflect great credit on the administration.
Nonetheless, not all of the chemists, of course, accepted this
preferential treatment in silence. Their strongest argument was
expressed best perhaps by a visiting alumnus. When shown the new
building and told that biochemistry occupied the top part and
chemical engineering the bottom, he exclaimed "That big building!
What in the world is in the middle?"
Of a Feather
Because of losing a bet, a group of my graduate students had
to buy me a dinner. They conspired to take me to the Family Tavern,
a place of doubtful repute. But as we neared it, in the poorer
part of Champaign their resolution weakened and finally one of
them proposed that they desist and pay their debt in a better
place. I would not hear of this, declaring that, although I had
never been to the Family Tavern, if it was good enough for them
it was good enough for me. So we entered the place.
What happened next surprised me as much as it surprised them
but I didn't let on. The bartender ran out to meet me with outstretched
hand. "Hello Doc, glad to see you!" With equal cordiality
I replied, "Hello Fritz, how are you?" Naturally, we
were well taken care of.
The amazed students had to wait a little before I explained how
it happened that even in the most unlikely places a professor
could be among friends. Fritz belonged to my bowling league and
we had competed on the alleys the previous evening.
Incognito
One Saturday when I arrived at Noyes Laboratory, I was surprised
to find the door locked. An undergraduate who was waiting to get
in assured me that he had permission to work in the laboratory
that day. Without giving the matter further thought I unlocked
the door and let him in, remarking to myself that it was praiseworthy
of the young man to work when everybody else had gone home for
Christmas vacation.
Later, I learned that the building was indeed officially closed
and went to advise the student accordingly. I found him doing
a diazotization. Now no organic chemist would interrupt a diazotization,
so I told him to go on and complete his experiment, adding that
if the campus police came, he was to say that he had my permission
to continue. The student looked at me doubtfully and asked, "And
who are you?"
City's Choice
The University of Illinois is situated partly in Champaign and
partly in Urbana but enjoys high esteem in neither town. Superimposed
on the two-way Town and Gown rivalry are intercity differences
that sometimes present the University with a problem. When, for
example, Champaign voted to try the summer daylight saving plan
and conservative Urbana remained on standard time, what should
the University do? The fast time was finally chosen, but the big
University clock in the tower of Altgeld Hall refused to take
sides and all summer long silently registered its protest. Both
hands stubbornly noncommittal pointed to twelve and refused to
move.
Old timers seemed to remember that when the University was founded
it came to Champaign-Urbana as a political plum. Indeed, they
recalled that there had been a choice -- they could have the University
or the insane asylum that eventually went to Kankakee. Some observers
profess to see little difference between the two institutions
except that in Kankakee the inmates are not free to roam the streets.
Those who entertain doubts about the sanity of professors can
hardly be blamed. Professors are prone to do things that are,
to say the least, unusual. And I must confess that I am no exception.
Once in connection with revising a book I needed two unbound copies
of it but had only one. To save time I decided to buy a copy and
remove the cover.
At the bookstore I asked for a copy of Fuson's Advanced Organic
Chemistry, feeling a little strange buying my own book. Was I
a member of the faculty? Then I could have the book at 10% discount!
I handed the clerk a bill and while I was waiting for my change
wondered how hard it would be to get the cover off. Without thinking,
I gave it a tug and there I stood with the cover in one hand and
the unbound book in the other. Then I saw the clerk cowering behind
a pillar!
I had earned a one-way ticket to Kankakee!
Segregation
When I went to Cambridge in 1924, I felt my social shortcomings
very keenly. I was still little more than the boy from the farm.
That this was true came out in a conversation I had with a Boston
lady. She was very nice to me and tried to draw me out of my rustic
shell. When I had admitted that Illinois prairies were flat and
Minnesota lakes were numerous, she came out with this diagnostic
question, "And when you finish your work at Harvard, Mr.
Fuson, do plan to stay in the East or to go back to your own people?"
Accent
University communities have always placed a high value on foreign
travel and on ability to speak foreign languages. Returning travelers
brought back amusing accounts of experiences involving foreign
tongues. I was no exception. My story concerned events that occurred
on a vaporetto in the Canal Grande in Venice.
Suddenly over the great noise on the deck I heard an American
voice ask "How old is your dog?" Then I saw the dog
and its master who not understanding could only smile, happy to
be the center of attention. The American was one of those who
think that they can make English intelligible by shouting. He
asked his question repeatedly always raising his voice.
Embarrassed by my countryman's behavior, I translated his question.
"ll cane, quanti anni ha"? The Italian then said "Cinque" and
held up five fingers. My countryman, still using the shouting
technique said "Well, he's a wonderful dog." Turning
to me, he thanked me for my help. "It's nothing", I replied,
I only know a few words." He looked at me in amazement and
exclaimed, "Well, you have a mighty fine accent for what
little English you know."
Best Policy
Chemistry in the universities is closely related to the industrial
world not only because industrial chemists maintain their ties
with the schools in which they were trained but also because professors
are retained by the industry. I had the good fortune to serve
as a consultant for the Rohm and Haas Company for thirty years
(1935-1965) and for this reason traveled to Philadelphia about
six times a year.
Chemists of the Company, including not a few Illini, offered
me generous hospitality during my evenings in the city. Once a
group of them invited me to go with them to Robin Hood Dell to
hear one of the summer concerts for which it is famous. Since
I had never seen the Dell, I accepted with pleasure. The night
before I went to dinner at a friend's house, and what did they
have planned for the evening? A concert at the Dell! During the
intermission I was introduced to a number of their friends.
When the chemists came the following evening I could see that
they looked forward eagerly to introducing me to the Dell. Not
to rob them of this small pleasure, I decided to say nothing of
the previous night. The program had been changed and all went
well until the intermission. Then someone I had met there the
night before came up and greeted me with "Why, you come every
night, don't you?"
"------"
Shakespeare, foreseeing George Washington no doubt, had his rebuttal
ready: "It is easier to tell twenty---"
Missing Link
I am fond of telling people that although I taught in two different
high schools I was never enrolled in any as a student. The presumption
is that in some way not quite clear I did get the equivalent of
a high school education. My educational history thus remains a
bit mysterious. Even I have uneasy moments over the missing link
between the eighth grade and college. When, as often happens in
a group conversation, it becomes apparent that the topic under
discussion is familiar to everyone except me I ask myself, "Could
this be something that they learned in high school?"
When I returned to Wakefield, proud of my brand new Ph.D. degree,
a lady asked me what I had been studying for so many years. Learning
that it was chemistry, she exclaimed, "Why, I had that in
high school!"
Displaced Persons
I have always listed my birthplace as Wakefield, Illinois, but
have never felt sure that I was not born elsewhere. My father's
case is free of doubt; plans were made for him to be a Wakefield
native son, but they were not carried out. My grandfather moved
from Flat Rock to Wakefield in 1861 to begin practice as a physician.
He, with his wife and baby daughter, left Flat Rock in late September
so as to be sure they would be settled in their new home 40 miles
away in time to receive the Stork's visit, expected in October.
The new MD's first confinement case did not turn out as expected.
He may have known medicine very well, but he did not foresee that
heavy rains would flood the Embarrass River (No one could have
given it that name with better right than he) and delay his crossing.
The Stork found them on the wrong side of the river, so my father's
birthplace was not Wakefield but Sumner, Illinois.
When the family finally arrived, they found Wakefield to be a
thriving, newly incorporated village. But when new roads were
put through according to the survey's map, Wakefield was left
nearly a half mile from the public road. The only thing to do
was to move the town. So I am able to boast that I was born in
a town that lies entirely outside its corporate limits!
Human Fly
To become a legend in one's own lifetime is achieved by few persons.
Sidney Ross, a graduate student in analytical chemistry, was one
who did; about his name so many stories accumulated that the professional
chemical fraternity, Alpha Chi Sigma, of which he was a member
set aside one night a year to recount them. Now, some 30 years
later, the stories no longer ring quite true. As one undergraduate
student put it, "Are these stories really true? They're so
funny!"
Sidney looked the part. Fresh from Scotland, he displayed characteristics
that, we imagined, betrayed his origin. He parted his hair exactly
in the middle and covered it with a derby had that had no lilt
whatever. His pants were held high, much too close to his armpits,
by old-fashioned suspenders and of course he carried a cane.
In spite of his foreign appearance he showed great eagerness
to learn about American ways and to adopt them. For example, he
had a class of students in colloid chemistry which he set about
teaching with great enthusiasm. Presently, however, the students
began to drop out, one by one. Finally only one of the original
ten remained to finish the course. One's thoughts run to extremes.
Was this lone survivor the smartest or the dumbest member of the
class?
"What grade did you give him?"
Sidney was asked.
"Why C, of course. I had to grade on the curve."
Another "Americanism" that misled Sidney was that of
owning household pets. When he moved out of the fraternity house
and went to live alone in an apartment he soon began to feel lonesome.
Friends advised him to buy a cat to share his isolation. As usual
he took up the idea eagerly, acquired a kitten and immediately
found life less monotonous. But not for long, because the animal
soon died.
"But what happened, Sidney? Did it get
run over?"
"Oh no, it just died."
"That's strange. What did you feed it?"
"Feed it? Why, I thought they lived on rats and mice."
The American penchant for spending the summer vacation on an
automobile trip appealed to Sidney so much that he bought a car.
His idea was to explore the Wild West that he had seen so often
in the movies. He found a couple of undergraduates who seemed
to share his longing for travel but had no car. What could be
better? They would form a car pool. Their destinations was to
be decided by a daily vote.
At first Sidney seemed to think it was merely coincidence that
the vote was two to one with him in the minority. But when eventually
he realized that he was in Maine instead of Montana he rebelled.
The undergraduates had donned their bathing suits and had swum
out to a little rock just off shore and were enjoying the sunshine
when anger overcame Sidney. Jumping into his car, he headed for
Urbana, the vote for once being unanimous. His young friends were
left with nothing but their bathing suits and their controlling
vote.
Later when school had begun in Urbana, Sidney reported these
happenings to his fraternity brothers. "I saw them on the
campus this morning, but they wouldn't speak to me. How strange!
I wish they would--I'd like to know how they got back."
Dropping paper bags filled with water must have struck Sidney
as another fascinating custom of this strange new land. But his
attempt to put it into practice led to results he little expected.
His first error was to choose a bag much too large, his second
was to drop it from a place far too high -- a third story window
of the fraternity house -- and finally the brothers chosen as
victims were twice his size.
Whether they suffered any damage other than momentary fright
is not of record. What is known is that they stormed up to Sidney's
room threatening vengeance. Sidney hurriedly locked his door and
threw up a barricade by piling furniture against it. When he became
convinced that his improvisations would not stop his irate
attackers he opened a window and sought to escape by that route.
If there had been a tree to provide the possibility of a Tarzan-like
descent, Sidney's actions might just possibly have been understandable.
But there was no tree -- there was only sheer wall, three stories
high.
Although it seems improbable that his pursuers planned to break
down the door, when they heard anguished cries for help they had
no choice. Even then, they arrived at the window just in time
to save Sidney. He was found hanging outside clutching the window
sill with his hands, but without the strength to pull himself
back into the room.
As soon as the shaken and exhausted practical joker recovered
his speech, he was plied with questions.
"Why, for heaven's sake did you climb out of the window?
Did you think you could escape down the wall?"
"Yes, I did. You see, last night, I saw a movie called
'The Human Fly'."
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