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Times of Trouble

“At past Reunions, we have encountered both alumnae from younger classes as well as incoming presidents who have asked us, ‘You were here during the war. What was it like then?’"

“This is my attempt to satisfy their curiosity by writing down my impressions and experiences before they are lost to history.”

Earlier this year, Elizabeth “Libbo” Steinert Williams ’47 sent a record of her time at ����Ӱ��ý to the College Archives. She shared memories of traditions such as Lantern Night and of professors and first classes. She described gathering with friends in the residence hall “smokers” to play bridge, study, and — yes — smoke. Williams’ recollections also show how those college memories were shadowed by World War II. Read more in the excerpts below:

“The College tried to keep us informed of current events without scaring us. Some of the students had family members in the service. Because some of the best minds in the country were as restricted in their movements as we were, we were the recipients of war news and the opinions of the nation’s caretakers.

“We didn’t date much, as the men were off at war. Brothers in uniform came to visit, and some would join us in singing. Therefore, it didn’t seem strange when years later several of my friends married their classmates’ brothers.

“Remember this was a time of rationing. Food and Gas Coupons. We turned in our ration coupons to the Food Halls. On the whole, they fed us well; at least I don’t remember complaining.

“One of ����Ӱ��ý’s efforts for the war was to offer a half credit for students to spend a term at a local hospital serving as nurses’ aides. I ended up at Philadelphia General. I was in the men’s ward, scrubbing bed pans, changing sheets, bathing the men, etc. At the end of term, the head nurse told me that, originally, she had not wanted women from ����Ӱ��ý, believing they would think themselves above that kind of work, but later she admitted, ‘I watched you, and you worked like a Trojan.’ I considered this one of the stars in my crown.”

The Lantern Shortage of 1943

The then–57–year tradition of Lantern Night ran into a roadblock in 1943, as the factory that made the lanterns turned to war production. The impending lantern shortage made the Bi-College News.

“Approximately 80 green lanterns have been collected from last year’s seniors and other alumnae, leaving the majority of the 210 freshmen without their traditional gift,” read an article about the shortage on Sept. 25, 1943.

Hoping to preserve the tradition even in light of the war, the class sought to have the glass changed out in old 

lanterns. They also considered using a variety of other colors supplied by the upper classes but only lighting the green to achieve the desired effect.

Publicizing the issue rallied the Mawrter forces, and in the end, the Oct. 22 ceremony went on like usual. Each student received a green lantern made up of a collection cobbled together from Class of 1943, several alumnae, and other undergraduates. 

– Shannon Eblen

Professor Walter C. Michels: Whistleblower

Walter C. Michels was a professor in (and, beginning in 1936, chair of) the Physics Department at ����Ӱ��ý, where he taught from 1932 until his retirement in 1972. During the war, he took a leave from the College to work for the United States Navy Department as a civilian and military officer. Michels was head of the Mine Warfare Operational Research Group and was awarded the Legion of Merit for his service.

Michels, though, was not proud of all his service. On Nov. 20, 1945, he wrote: “I have just taken part in an act of vandalism which is parallelled only by those which were perpetuated during the 15th and 16th centuries, or … of the Nazi party in Germany.” 

Michels had taken part in action by the American military to destroy Japanese research related to nuclear physics at Kyoto Imperial University. Arakatsu Bunsaku, a Kyoto Imperial University professor and former head of the Japanese Naval research program on nuclear technology, was made to watch as his research and lab apparatuses were either destroyed or confiscated. 

The next day, the Americans, including Michels, traveled to Tokyo to carry out similar, though less extreme, actions there.

Michels’ guilt led him to reach out to Washington Post reporter Marquis Child with his firsthand account — a journal entry written on the train between Kyoto and Tokyo — of the events. Although a version of the events had leaked to the press already, Michels’ report shone greater light on what had previously been framed as the destruction of research related to nuclear weapons, not to all research regarding nuclear energy that the occupying American forces found. Michels pleaded for Congress to appropriate funds for the equipment destroyed in Kyoto, saying “ … we, who believe in freedom and in democracy, [should be] willing to admit an error and to make whatever restitution we can.” 

– Allison Mills

����Ӱ��ý Code Girls

In 1942, President Marion Park received a letter from the Office of the Chief Signal Officer in the War Department. “My dear Dr. Park,” it read, “Is it possible there are among recent graduates of your institution or among the students who will soon graduate … women who might be interested in the important field of military cryptography[?]” If so, the department was interested in learning more about them. 

At least two ����Ӱ��ý alumnae were known cryptographers. Margaret Crosby, class of 1922, worked for the Greek Desk at the Office of Strategic Services. Crosby, who also held a Ph.D. from Yale and had supervised fieldwork with the American School of Classical Studies at Athens, was one of many archeologists recruited for the role.

Marjory MacLeod Max-Muller ’42, however, probably came to cryptography through the letter received by President Park. She was a history of art major and, according to her obituary, had “a wartime assignment in de-coding,” living in a Georgetown mansion with “seven or eight” fellow graduates who held similar wartime positions in Washington, D.C., before she met and married her husband, a British naval attaché. 

����Ӱ��ý was one of a number of women’s colleges approached by the military to recruit the women now known as “Code Girls.” These women worked as cryptographers and cryptanalysts throughout the war, a role that required skills in science, math, and linguistics, as well as complete confidentiality. This requirement means that few of the “Code Girls” have ever had their contributions to the war effort recognized. 

– Allison Mills 

‘The only male veteran’ of ����Ӱ��ý

The first and only time ����Ӱ��ý accepted men as part of its incoming first year class was in 1945, when four World War II veterans entered as part of the GI Bill. Of the four, only one stuck it out — the others transferred elsewhere or left college. 

Richard “Dick” Logan was a member of the class of 1949, majoring in Spanish and marrying fellow ����Ӱ��ý student Loretta May Warren ’51. 

Logan attended as a non-resident student, living with his parents, whose house was close enough to campus that he walked to classes. Kathleen Hirce ’98 interviewed Logan about his time at the college later in life. He recalled watching ����Ӱ��ý traditions, rather than participating — “I didn’t dance around the May Pole, but I watched” — and praised the education he received at the College.

His classmates, in the 1949 yearbook, wrote “with the class of ’49 is going to graduate the only male veteran who has survived the horrors of undergraduate years in a female institution” and applaud Logan “for the stamina shown in his pursuit of an education.”

– Allison Mills

‘Dear Mrs. Roosevelt’

In 1945, in her capacity as the student chairman of the committee for College War Assemblies, Dorothy Bruchholz Goodman ’46 — my grandmother — invited former First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt to ����Ӱ��ý. She sent a letter directly to Roosevelt’s New York office and received a reply within the month.

On Oct. 25, 1945, Goodman traveled to 30th Street Station with Dean Lily Ross Taylor to pick up Mrs. Roosevelt, whom she described as a “real person — a perfect lady, charming, and utterly genuine.”

Just a month after the end of the war, and mere months after her husband’s death, Roosevelt spoke to a packed Goodhart Hall on the subject of “Women in Employment.”

In her address, Roosevelt highlighted the governmental positions available for women and stressed the responsibility that college students have — in their position of privilege — to serve their communities.

The words that my grandmother wrote in her letter thanking the former first lady for her time emphasize a message that echoes today when the value of a liberal arts education comes under fire once again.

“There had been some doubts in our minds during the war-time emergency as to whether a liberal arts education could prepare us for the world ahead. Your tale answered this question for us and gave us renewed confidence in our ability to be worthwhile citizens.”

– Helen Christ ’24