IT
HAPPENED AT ILLINOIS
by
Reynold C. Fuson
January 10, 1966
Contents
Forward
Many years ago I started to collect Illini stories especially
those having to do with chemists and chemistry. Reproduced here
are a selected few that, I believe, convey information or impressions
that may have historical value.
A Chemist's Chemist
Serious accidents that happen in a chemistry laboratory are seldom
due to carelessness; chemists are too well trained for that. Usually
the cause of such disasters cannot be ascertained with certainty
and remain a matter for speculation. Perhaps the most devastating
explosion on the Noyes Laboratory records was one that occurred
in an analytical laboratory.
It blew the panes out of 35 windows and did much damage internally.
The first rumor that spread was that the blast had originated
in a vessel in which someone was digesting hay with perchloric
acid. After the explosion, however, the hay-perchloric acid "bomb"
was found to be intact and the way was left open for wild guesses.
One of these laid the blame on organic chemicals whose vapors
might have formed an explosive mixture with air in the ventilating
system.
Miraculously no one was injured but a senior who was doing a
titration had a close call. Reconstruction of events showed that
heavy objects including an electron microscope had been sent hurtling
past him. Even his buret had been shattered. I can see him now
as he emerged clutching the remnant of the buret that had been
protected by his hand. His first words were "Damn, there
goes my standard solution!"
House Guest
After Professor Noyes retired, he remained in good health and
continued to be active for more than a decade. Right up to the
end, he retained his interest in chemistry and chemists. In declining
years, however, he suffered noticeable lapses of memory for names.
That such a lapse would involve a distinguished foreign visitor
was especially unfortunate in view of the Professor's lifelong
interest in international affairs.
The visitor was Professor George Barger and the occasion a meeting
of the local section of the American Chemical Society. In his
introductory speech, Professor Noyes with his usual aplomb began
by telling us something about the tricentennial which had just
been celebrated by Harvard University. He stated that a highlight
of the occasion was the award of the honorary degrees to four
distinguished European chemists.
He had no difficulty in recalling for us the names of three of
the awardees and continued "The fourth was our speaker of
this evening - - -" He turned graciously to our visitor,
opened his mouth but, to our dismay, could utter no name. The
awful silence which fell was eventually broken when the Professor
said as an apologetic aside "Why, he's been my house guest
for three days." He was rescued by the alert speaker who
in clear tones spoke his own name "George Barger." Unperturbed,
Professor Noyes took over as though nothing had been amiss "Professor
George Barger, who will speak to us on - - -"
Demotion
The atmosphere of our Department, pervaded as it was by a consciousness
of high level accomplishment, did not encourage individuals to
nurture feelings of superiority. I got my first lesson in humility
from no less a person than Professor Noyes himself. I encountered
him in the chemistry building, later to bear his name, one Sunday
afternoon in October.
It was my first year at Illinois and I had not yet picked up
the nearly universal habit of speaking of him as Daddy Noyes.
I was elated when the great man spoke to me and seemed to know
who I was. He and his small son had been gathering autumn leaves
and had stopped at the building on their way home. They were looking
for someone who might be able to unlock a certain door for them.
When he saw me the Professor was obviously relieved and called
out to his son "It's all right. I have found the janitor."
It's a Wise Child
Noyes Laboratory was named in honor of William Albert Noyes several
years before the Professor's death. A simple statement of the
event was made at a meeting of the faculty held in Room 100 where
he had conducted classes for nearly 20 years. Professor Noyes
was able to attend the meeting and to speak at some length about
his devotion to the Department and his hopes for its future.
Another honor which came in 1950 after his death was the founding
of the William Albert Noyes Annual Lectureship which was established
under the auspices of the chemical honorary society, Phi Lambda
Upsilon. William Albert Noyes, Jr., appropriately, was the first
Noyes Lecturer. As befitted this historic occasion Professor G.
L. Clark paid glowing tribute to Noyes, Senior and, prophetically
we know now, introduced his son as one fully worthy to follow
in his father's footsteps.
We began to wonder if young Noyes could possibly give the superlative
performance that his audience was being led to expect. The speaker's
response, made with a deadpan poker face, was the following, "I
am glad to be introduced as my father's son and not, as sometimes
happens, as the son of A.A. Noyes of Caltech who was never married."
On the House
Back in the early part of the century Illinois Central passenger
trains made all the stops. A story that used to be told to all
newcomers to the University tells of a passenger who was making
his first trip from New Orleans to Chicago. Hearing them call
Arcola, then Tuscola, he exclaimed, "Is this a game? I suppose
the next one will be Coca Cola!"
Answer, "No, Champaign".
Music to Some
Installation of the chimes at Illinois was done with ostentation,
and a feeling of delusion overcame us when its somewhat discordant
tones first rang out over the campus. Several generations of Illini
had to come and go before the chimes became a part of our cherished
traditions. During this process of traditionalization the story
about Dean Thomas Arkle Clark and President David Kinley gradually
lost savor to become eventually a sacrilege. But it still serves
as a thumbnail sketch of those two Illinois greats.
According to the story the Dean and the President were walking
across the campus when the newly installed chimes began to play.
Dean Clark, who was the type of man to see good in even the most
unlikely things, asked "Aren't the chimes beautiful?"
The President, unable to understand, could only say "Wh-a-a-at?"
Another exchange of shouts only increased the President's irritation.
He was a Scotsman and undoubtedly regarded the new chimes as a
waste of money as well as a nuisance. He was goaded to say, "Can't
hear you for those infernal chimes."
Trade Tricks
Old time Illini like to recall the days before the Illini Union,
before the dormitories, before meals were served by the University.
The first thing I did when I reached the campus in 1927 was to
look for a place to eat. The place I found was a one-man job,
where the cook was also the waiter. I entered and ordered a hot
dog. It had hardly been put on the stove when in came a blustering
man who had the air of one who gets everything he wants when he
wants it.
"Give me a hot dog and step on it", he ordered,
"I'm in a hurry."
The second hot dog quickly joined the first and I noticed that
it was much larger than mine. I sat there wondering ruefully why
I was such a Milk Toast and let more aggressive men get all the
good things in life. My feelings can be imagined when I saw that
Step-on-it had been served before me. When the waiter finally
brought my hot dog he leaned over and said confidentially "There
are tricks to all trades: you had to wait but you got the big
one."
That this shrewd young man was a student came as no great surprise
to me -- a senior in agriculture, he told me. He was the first
of hundreds of farm boys whom I was to meet and, as I put it,
try to "deagrarify".
When I suggested that the University of Illinois must be pretty
good, he wasted no time in acquainting me with the virtues of
my new school. Finally, in conclusion, he came out with "No,
I wouldn't go to no other school."
I wondered.
Bible Belt
During the prohibition era in Champaign-Urbana sin in general
went underground. Even at the Men's University Club, bridge was
played only behind drawn blinds. The area became known as the
Bible Belt. Professor Lybyer of the Department of History was
one of the principal proponents of the purity program.
Chemistry too made a contribution: Noyes, Adams, Hopkins, Rose
and others were confirmed churchgoers. But fermentation chemistry,
at least the production of home brew, also had its addicts. One
of these, a graduate student in chemistry, practiced his art in
the basement of the house of a married friend who happened to
be a history major.
The conspirators, unwisely as it proved, chose Sunday afternoon
to "polish off" some beer leftover from a Saturday night
party. The beer was soon gone but it had its effect. At this point
the chemist volunteered to fetch a bottle of whiskey that he had
cached in his room. The married couple thereupon went to the kitchen
to squeeze lemons.
Our chemist emerging from the front door was thunderstruck to
find himself face to face with Professor and Mrs. Lybyer coming
to call. Recovering himself quickly, he said in tones loud enough
to reach the kitchen, "Good evening, Professor and Mrs. Lybyer.
Come right in". His friends in the kitchen, knowing his penchant
for practical jokes, called out "To hell with the Lybyers! Go
get the whiskey".
Professor Hully
Hugh Henry Hully, like many other successful Illini, got a large
part of his training at the Farwell. Beer fitted into his research
plans in two complementary ways. If an experiment was successful,
celebration at the Farwell was in order. Failure brought grief
that could be assuaged also at the Farwell.
That certain members of the staff habitually repaired to the
same emporium for a coffee-break was perhaps unfortunate. Because
of this, I, his research director, would often find him there.
On one such occasion I raised my eyebrows as though to reprimand
him. But he hastened to confess his error.
"Yes, I know, I know. I'm over here an awful lot. I'm over here
so much, in fact, that most people think I'm a Professor."
Operation Matrimony
As a professor I found that students asked my advice on practically
every subject imaginable matrimony included. Also, I soon discovered
that the less I knew about the answer, the more glibly I could
give it. Getting married, considered by many to be a little questionable
for students, became a much more serious problem during the depression
of the early thirties. Yet a student chose just that time to ask
my advice about it.
I had no trouble marshaling arguments against such a rash proposal.
He hadn't finished school, he had no job and small chance of getting
one and so on. When he left my office I felt that at least this
once I had persuaded a young man to be guided by common sense.
He got married the following weekend!
Among my fellow staff members in my first years at Illinois was
one who was notoriously stingy. Reports had it that when he was
courting the girl who later became his wife he took her to outdoor
band concerts and the like but never to an entertainment that
had an admission charge.
One day, my friend Dr. Tightwad came into my office and asked
me pointblank, "Is it true that you have been promoted to an assistant
professorship?" Taken by surprise, I admitted that he was right
and explained that I had been asked to keep the matter confidential
for a certain length of time.
His mind always on money, he kept boring in. "What salary will
you get"? Reluctantly I gave him the figure $2,800. Then to my
amazement he invited me to his house for dinner. I was still more
amazed but somewhat less puzzled to hear him add, "My sister-in-law
is visiting us and I'd like to have you meet her."
The moral of this story was put into the form of a rhyme.
"We were all agreed that a Chines Swede
Could not excite tender emotion.
But in marriage his hand was much in demand
When he received a promotion."
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