<p>Thx for posting this, worldspirit. I’ve had the chance to hear versions of this on several occasions and I still get bit choked up when Howard discusses his parent’s deaths and how people at HC helped him. Something like that has never happened to me or anyone I directly knew as a student but it speaks to the culture of the place and the real sense of caring my friends and I did see on a more frequent if smaller scale. </p>
<p>I think there are about 20-30 colleges and universities that can provide comparable academic preparation as HC and probably another couple dozen that can approximate. As we’re talking about undergraduate education and not rocket science or brain surgery, there are probably another multiple hundred schools that can provide perfectly adequate undergrad educations as well and success depends on the individual (one of my friends went to a community college and then to JH med school and UCSF residency). HC’s value proposition IMO isn’t with its stellar academics but rather in its unique campus culture. It’s really hard to see this on an interview or an overnight or reading about it. Like people, colleges may have similar feels when things are working well 95% of the time… it’s primarily though during those rare times of stress and trouble that distinctions are made clearand life lessons learned. For example, you can search this on CC if you’re bored, but several years ago, there was an incident at a very top LAC where someone for a joke taped up “Happy B-Day Hitler” cards in several dorms and clearly many people felt offended/unsafe as a result. I think that this can happen on any campus no matter how elite but what was revealing to me as I was reading about it was that at this school with about 2300 students, only 30 or so (students/staff/faculty) showed up at the town hall meeting to address it as a community. By contrast, in my experience at HC, even when “lesser” incidents happended there was always a much more robust community response with students/faculty/staff taking time to put a little skin in the game. </p>
<p>So, until something like that happens, I guess I have to keep on posting things written by other alumni that try to capture HC’s unique campus culture… </p>
<p>[James</a> Bready: Former Evening Sun editorial writer will be missed - Baltimore Sun](<a href=“On losing a great journalist and proud Haverford alumnus”>On losing a great journalist and proud Haverford alumnus)</p>
<p>“But I always felt that Jim’s values — his intellectual honesty, his gentleness in a brutal world and the attention he paid to those he saw as undervalued and unappreciated — were shaped in Haverford’s Quaker teachings and, perhaps, in the silence of its Fifth Day Meeting. Jim was Class of '39 and I was Class of ‘54, but because of the peculiarities of the five-year class reunion cycle our reunions coincided. I have a particular and poignant memory of Jim at one of the last reunions we attended together. Time, of course, had reduced the number of his classmates, and the picture I retain is of Jim, alone, poking at the campus’ wondrous new additions but lovingly revisiting the library, Founders Hall and the duck pond, his haunts of decades before.”</p>
<p>[url=<a href=“http://www.chilit.org/PROSNTZ2.HTM]PROSNTZ2[/url”>http://www.chilit.org/PROSNTZ2.HTM]PROSNTZ2[/url</a>]
FORDS</p>
<p>by
Howard B. Prossnitz</p>
<p>Delivered to The Chicago Literary Club February 22, 1999
Copyright 1999 Howard B. Prossnitz
The first time that I heard of it was in the spring of 1968. It was a gray, cold March day in Evanston. I was inside a windowless classroom at the High School studying American History. My teacher was Harry Wood. We were cramming for the upcoming AP exam and had just finished reviewing three quarters of history in 40 minutes. I was not feeling that sanguine about the exam, especially since Steve Ellmann was sitting next to me. His father was Richard Ellmann, the renowned Joyce scholar, who was a professor at Northwestern at the time. Steve was as keen a student as his father, he was a year ahead of me and would graduate as valedictorian. I could not help but notice that he had filled about twenty pages of notebook paper with his detailed precise study notes whereas I was contemplating my own sloppy handwriting which had produced two and one-half pages of a sketchy outline.</p>
<p>With only a few minutes left in the period, our teacher said, “You know it does not have to be like this. When I was in college, we took our exams outside on green lawns near a duck pond. Or if we wanted to, we took the exams back to our dorm rooms and worked on them there. You see there was an Honor Code which meant that we had no proctors. We scheduled our exams for ourselves whenever we wanted to during a two week period. Our classes had eight students and we often met at the professor’s house.”</p>
<p>As one of 1,250 juniors at Evanston High School, I wondered where this mythical place was. None of my other teachers ever talked about their colleges. Harry Wood seemed to be very old, at least forty, so obviously this had been a special place for him. I did not have to wait long to find out the name of this Shangri La. At the end of his reminiscence, we learned that the name of the school was Haverford and that it was a small Quaker college near Philadelphia. Over the remainder of the academic year, Mr. Wood continued to pepper his classes with fond stories of his alma mater. </p>
<p>The following summer, when my father and I made our tour of Eastern schools, I went to visit the place and I was not disappointed. It was as promised, an oasis in the middle of the already tranquil Main Line with expansive green lawns, old towering trees, a duck pond, a cricket field and a club house where tea was served during recesses in the cricket games. A small cadre of Evanston graduates had gone there before such as Jack Rakove, son of Milton Rakove, a political science professor in Chicago known for his books on Mayor Daley. Jack himself is now a professor – he teaches history at Stanford. I felt that I had been let in on a great secret and now many years later, I still feel the same way.</p>
<p>Tonight, I will talk about the history of the College as well as two Fords that I particularly admire, Isaac Sharpless, one of the College’s early presidents, and Charles Robinson, class of 1928, whom I had the honor to know personally. I will also try to answer the question of what is it about</p>
<p>Haverford that creates such loyalty among its alumni? Why is it that I return four times a year for meetings of the Alumni Association Executive Committee? Why do many of my classmates feel the same way? For instance at our most recent reunion (number 25), we had our traditional class meeting. One-third of my graduating class of was present. We were seated in a seminar room in a large circle. As has become our custom, we went around the table with each person providing a brief narrative about what had transpired in his life during the last five years. One of my classmates expressed a thought that we all shared. He said, " when I come back here and walk into this room with all of you present, I feel like I am at home again. There is no other place that I feel this way. I know that I can speak freely and from the heart here. There is none of the pretense and posturing that I encounter in my everyday world." What is it that provokes such sentiments? Is it merely nostalgia or something more? …</p>