Chris Buchignani

  • The Grand Experiment’s Hidden Stat

    Some have called it “Paterno’s Payback.” Others term it “superlative.” Others still have just been wonderfully, spontaneously emotional about the whole thing. No matter how you choose to express it, ever since the Freeh Report handed down its “absurd” indictment of the Penn State “culture,” we have all gotten a little more outwardly defensive about the consistently high academic standards maintained by the institution’s athletic programs.

    Understandably, most folks have latched on to Penn State’s above-average football graduation rates to refute the nonsense and assert the continued success of the Grand Experiment. Allow me to offer a related statistic that’s quoted far less often in the press, but perhaps even more significant in making the case for Penn State: black graduation rates.

    In reading a media report on the latest of the many, many lawsuits brought against the NCAA (we’re getting to the point of needing a scorecard to keep track), I came across the following passage:

    “This academic debacle, at one of the nation’s finest public universities, could not have come as a surprise to the NCAA,” the lawsuit states. “It had ample warning, including empirical evidence from numerous academic experts, that many college athletes were not receiving a meaningful education, including — disproportionally — African-American college athletes in revenue producing sports.”

    That’s an important point. As we wrestle with the social and cultural implications of big-time college sports and the widening gulf between the players and those who enrich themselves at their expense, the same issues of racial inequality that made national headlines this Summer are simmering just below the surface. The dirty little secret behind the already-uninspiring graduation rates at many football powerhouse programs is that the topline number actually masks a distressing (and depressing) disparity between black and white players.

    This is not – and has not been – the case at Penn State. Penn State not only graduates its football players at a rate well above most of its peers, it does so with with little appreciable difference between white and black students. In preparing to write this piece, I came across a very helpful article on the topic from Onward State. I’ll quote from it here:

    Penn State scored above the national average in every measurable category…

    The data also reveals Penn State’s extraordinary commitment to African-American student-athletes. The 89 percent Graduation Success Rate is the second-highest figure in school history, just one point off the record 90 percent figure in the 2012 NCAA report. The figure was second-best among Big Ten institutions behind only Northwestern’s 92 percent, and 21 points higher than the national average of 68 percent. The four-year federal rate for African-American student-athletes also ranked significantly higher than the Division 1 national average since the first report was released in 1990.

    Take note. That there has consistently been little to no gap between the academic achievement of white and black Nittany Lions remains one of the most underreported and underappreciated feathers in Old State’s cap.

    This is nothing new in the Nittany Valley. By now, most Penn Staters have probably heard of Wally Triplett and his account of the “We Are” chant’s origins. In all honesty, it’s likely that he has “retconned” the famous cheer’s history, but the facts surrounding his story are not in dispute. In 1947, Triplett’s teammates did vote to forego a game in Miami where black teammates were not permitted to play. The following year, he did become the first black player to appear in the Cotton Bowl, deep in the heart of Texas. In the annals of Penn State history, Triplett’s name is synonymous with the struggle for equality. These are the best-known aspects of the story, but none is my favorite part. Thanks to the book Game of My Life – Penn State, I know this: Wally Triplett, the man who would become the first African American player to play in the NFL after being drafted, did not gain admission to Penn State based on his athleticism. One of the most significant players in the school’s signature sport failed to earn a football scholarship coming out of high school. He had his chance to become a Nittany Lion, but only because he arrived at Penn State on a full ride for academics.

    Nothing is perfect, of course. There will probably always be room for improvement on this front. But if you’re looking for evidence that Penn State is a place that tries to do it the right way, that has tried and will continue to try, there it is. Almost 70 years after Steve Suhey declared, “We are Penn State. There will be no meetings,”and exactly half a century since Martin Luther King carefully chose isolated little University Park as a stop on his Northern speaking circuit, our University stands out as a place where young men can come to achieve great things on the field and in the classroom, regardless of where they came from or how they look.

    You wanna talk about culture? Look around. This is culture.

  • A Century-Long Vision for an Allen Street Pedestrian Mall and Other Stories

    “The past cannot be destroyed, but it can be neglected or covered over. When we don’t know what is in the past, we cannot use it, and we cannot release its power.”

    These words from former Penn State trustee Ben Novak help capture the spirit and merit to intentionally encountering the stories and history of your home. Knowing your story not only enriches your experience as a participant in an unfolding narrative, it also forges a more durable identity and can drastically improve decision-making.

    Focusing on that final point, it is perhaps unavoidable for a college town, a place that turns over nearly a quarter of its population annually, to forget much of its past. Even here, in a place where we claim to honor, even venerate, tradition, the mists of time quickly obscure, and sometimes totally consume, the dreams, triumphs, and failures of our predecessors. We should seek to continuously unearth this information and refresh it for modern sensibilities, driven by a sense of service and affection for the place. In doing so, we can equip ourselves with the tools to better understand and navigate our present.

    A concrete example of this comes from a project I am wrapping up with the Chamber of Business and Industry of Centre County (CBICC). For the last year, I have been helping catalog the chamber’s historical archives—an extensive collection of newsclippings, photographs, and documents dating back to the organization’s earliest days as the State College Chamber of Commerce in the 1920s. We have had great experiences working with the College of the Liberal Arts to obtain smart, capable undergraduate interns and the University Libraries for guidance on archiving procedures.

    In 2013, CBICC staff members had recently found the group’s archives boxed up in storage. Most of the material was preserved in scrapbooks, some with striking, handcrafted wooden covers that are a kind of artifact unto themselves. It represents the efforts of numerous people over nearly 80 years. Simply what they chose to document—the birth of Arts Fest, the construction of Welch Pool, the planning of I-99—speaks to the aspirations the people of the community had for their home throughout the American Century. This is information from the past that had become “covered over,” and now we are working to “release its power.”

    The collection is fascinating, and once we are through taking stock of it, a task that is nearly complete now, I hope to arrange some sort of public exhibition of the most compelling material. Some highlights from the work so far, beginning with the century-long vision of an Allen Street Pedestrian Mall:

    • A little over 10 years ago, the State College Borough Planning Commission batted around a proposal to permanently close Allen Street between College and Beaver to install a pedestrian mall. The innovative proposal generated some excitement and appeared to be gaining the sort of momentum that might yield results within a decade or so. We’re still waiting, of course, but just how long has that wait actually been? Thanks to an encounter with the CBICC archives, one can learn that the concept actually reached a pretty serious planning stage in 1965 (models were built), and had been discussed as early as the mid-20s. Even 50 years ago, local writers covering the story joked about long-running efforts to repurpose the 100 block of Allen. If an Allen Street pedestrian mall ever does materialize, it will have been more than a century in the making.
    • Newspaper articles dating back to the 1960s foreshadow the inefficiencies and financial costs of maintaining multiple municipal governments within the boundaries of “State College.” Today, the six municipalities that make up the community (SC Borough and College, Ferguson, Halfmoon, Harris, and Patton townships) each enjoy their unique character and relative autonomy, but consistently struggle to reconcile regional issues such as infrastructure, transportation, and the costs of police/fire services. It is unlikely that many of us, who live and work throughout the Centre Region and who may recall at least one failed vote on “municipal consolidation,” appreciate how long this arrangement has been a matter of debate.
    • Especially enjoyable is a CDT editorial from 1985 lamenting the Phi Psi 500 as a raucous, manufactured “drinking holiday,” and arguing for its extinction. The similarity to modern jeremiads against State Patty’s Day, right down to the exact language, are striking and amusing, and we now know they were ultimately successful (younger readers will need to click the link to even understand the reference). It sheds valuable light on the “drinking holiday” as hardly a new or novel occurrence at Penn State. If those Reagan-era critics of the 500 could have envisioned its eventual successor, one wonders whether they might have just left well enough alone.

    These represent only a sampling of the disappearing or forgotten knowledge preserved by preceding generations that is contained in the collection. Taken as a whole, the CBICC’s historical archive forms a remarkably comprehensive history of the growth of State College and Penn State in the twentieth century.

    Discovering this sort of information is fun, of course, but it also offers valuable perspective that can help us have more honest conversations and make smarter choices. The real challenge comes in bringing these stories to life in a way that captures the imagination, allowing that beneficial knowledge to sink in. We’re working on it.

  • An Opportunity, Not a Punishment

    As I write this, Penn Staters everywhere are still celebrating the immediate restoration of Penn State’s football scholarships and bowl eligibility. We are all happy for the kids on the team and the coaching staff (and of course, for ourselves as fans too). Great opportunities await a deserving, hard-working group.

    As part of an organization dedicated to curating the history and culture of the Nittany Valley in the name of sharing its story and spirit, I frequently find myself wondering how these last few years will be remembered in the decades to come. Right now, we are still way too close to the events and players in question, and the story continues to evolve in often-unexpected ways – today’s reprieve, for example, would have seemed a far-fetched notion in July of 2012. We just can’t forecast how time and distance will shape our understanding of these matters. Nevertheless, I do believe certain tidbits of that larger narrative are beginning to crystalize.

    In particular, I will draw your attention to the morning of July 25, 2012, when two senior football players – Michael Zordich and Michael Mauti – both legacies whose fathers had starred for Joe Paterno’s teams, led an impromptu “press conference” outside the football building after a weight training session. Their message was raw, unpolished, emotional, and real. To watch it now, with knowledge of everything that transpired afterward, inspires chills. Listen to their words:

    ZORDICH: We’re going to stick together through this. We’re going to see this thing through… We know it’s not going to be easy, but we know what we’re made of. As a team, we don’t see this as a punishment; this is an opportunity. This is the greatest opportunity a Penn Stater could ever be given… We’re going to embrace this opportunity, and we’re going to make something very special happen in 2012. Together, we’re going to get through this thing to the end.

    What sounded then, with analysts and pundits predicting our doom, like admirable, if ultimately futile, bravado turned out to be a prescient forecast of a season for the ages, a series of magical moments that, by its end, commanded the grudging respect of even the harshest critics. “The greatest opportunity a Penn Stater could ever be given.” What wisdom to discern that challenging truth. What guts to declare it to the world.

    MAUTI: No sanction, no politician, is ever going to take away what we’ve got here. None of that is ever going to tear us apart… We’re going to fight for Penn State. We’re going to fight for each other. Because this is what Penn State is about, fighting through adversity. We’re going to show up every Saturday, and we’re going to raise hell.

    Remember, at this time, every player on the roster was free to transfer elsewhere – immediately and without penalty – away from the scrutiny, away from the uncertainty, away from the stigma and the chaos and the anguish. What took more than a century to build up could have all but vanished in mere hours, taking with it the institutional, psychological, and financial bedrock of one of America’s great college towns.

    Who knows what would have happened without their leadership, their resolve? I shudder at the prospect, but take heart in its unlikelihood. For this month’s Town&Gown, I wrote that the Nittany Valley’s spirit may be characterized by an “enduring capacity for attracting a special brand of people, its power to captivate the hearts and imaginations of those who will enrich and sustain it.” That is the story of this place and its people.

    At one of the most critical junctures in the University’s history, a select few young men, who represented the very best of the Penn State Family, seized the moment. In their unfiltered honesty, truthfully sharing the contents of their hearts, they outshone their elders, inspired a downcast community, and set the stage for a remarkable tale of loyalty, resiliency, and love. In no way was it fair to expect this of them  They acted because they had to, because they are Nittany Lions. We will never forget them for it.

    Thank you. Now, and always.

  • An Ode to Zeno’s

    Onward State published a feature this morning wherein various staff members profiled their favorite local watering holes. Kevin Horne contributed a truly poetic paean to Zeno’s Pub, that famous purveyor of craft beer “located directly above the center of the Earth.”

    Kevin earns extra points for shouting out the Nittany Valley Press book, The Birth of the Craft Brew Revolution. We chose Zeno’s for the cover of the book precisely because of its special, long-standing spot in the hearts of so many Penn Staters.

    Celebrating the full spectrum of our community’s culture unavoidably touches on the local bar scene, which Kevin admirably demonstrates in this tribute. I have included the full text below, and for more on the favored tap rooms of 2014, you can read the entire article here:

    “When vessels of hand-crafted quality beer are touched together and the eyes of the men and women who hold them meet, something magical happens—a long and frustrating day brightens, worries soften, stresses chill, and friends (or soon to be friends) connect, and The Life becomes La Vie.”

    Those words, written by Ken Hull in the forward of Ben Novak’s authoritative book “The Birth of the Craft Brew Revolution,” made a considerable impact on my development as a beer drinker. It was not so long ago that my alcohol palate consisted almost entirely of whatever warm, one-dimensional, mass-produced yellow fizz I could get my hands on in the basement of a fraternity house or from a friend. That’s college I suppose; keg stands, beer bongs, and questionable inebriated decisions seem to be as much a part of the university ethos as anything. And that’s okay—I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy such indulgences with unspoken degrees of frequency.

    But we’re living in a world with an essentially limitless selection of high-quality spirits, and the act of having a good beer and a conversation is one of the most powerful experiences two people can share with each other. Taste a well-crafted, delicately brewed Porter, Stout, or Belgian, close your eyes, and you can travel across the world in an instant, experience new culture, and engage in meaningful fellowship.

    Zeno’s was one the first bars to fully embrace the so-called craft beer revolution—certainly the first in Centre County—and it’s still the only place in town craft beer drinkers need to go. With a knowledgeable bar staff eager to provide the most experienced beer drinkers with their fix or introduce newly minted 21-year-olds to their first high-quality beer, there’s no better place to have a beer in State College.

    Zeno’s, and bars like it, allow those who wish to experience beautiful manmade art from all over the world to do so without leaving their own communities. To appreciate the craft is to exist in a state of timelessness. Lovers meet, world-altering ideas are spread, and lifelong friendships blossom from across the bar table, eyes locked, pint in hand.

    What could be more virtuous? La Vie, indeed.

  • Sugar-Coating Lessons from the Past

    This weekend, I picked up a copy of “The Opening Kickoff: The Tumultuous Birth of a Football Nation” by BTN studio host Dave Revsine. With tonight’s Hall of Fame game set to usher in another season of pro football and just under 30 days until the Lions kick off the James Franklin era in Ireland, the air is again thick with rumor of America’s Game. August in Happy Valley is a time fraught with nervous anticipation, one of my favorite times of year, and I look forward to spending a few of those days caught between Summer and Fall reading through Revsine’s book.

    This isn’t a book review. I’ve barely started reading it, and besides, if I’m on here plugging books, it should be the excellent, value-priced collection available through Nittany Valley Press. But Revsine’s thesis reminded me of aspirations we have for Nittany Valley Press, and with college football season, a special and important time for Penn State and State College, so close, it offered me a chance to explain a bit more about what we are building. I’ll quote from the introduction:

    “[Now] is a period, we’ve been told, unprecedented in the history of that sport. But what if I told you that it did have precedent? In fact, what if I told you that the current problems in college football might actually be viewed as an improvement–that, in some regards, the college game was once far worse than it is today?

    “Those who wonder why we can’t ‘just go back to the way it used to be,’ might be surprised to find that, in fact, we have.”

    So Revsine’s book is, in part, a history of the early years of intercollegiate football (a fascinating topic if you love the game and enjoy learning about the past) and, like most good sports books, also a love note from the author for an institution that has profoundly impacted lives. Moreover, it is, in practice, a direct argument for the value of collective memory, aiming to equip modern fans with the enhanced perspective that comes with understanding what has come before. In this regard, he echoes a key lesson I hope Nittany Valley Press can help instill in our community over the course of time.

    Knowing your story not only enriches your experience as a participant in an unfolding narrative, it also forges a more durable identity and can drastically improve decision-making. Focusing on that last point, it is perhaps unavoidable for a college town, a place that turns over nearly a quarter of its population annually, to forget much of its past. Even here, in a place where we claim to honor, even venerate, tradition, the mists of time quickly obscure, and sometimes totally consume, the dreams, triumphs, and failures of our predecessors. We must continuously unearth this information and refresh it for new sensibilities, driven by a sense of service and affection for the place—if we do this, we can, as Revsine attempts in “The Opening Kickoff,” equip new generations with the tools to better understand and navigate their present.

    A few concrete examples of what I’m describing come from a project I am wrapping up with the Chamber of Business and Industry of Centre County (CBICC). For the last year, I have been helping catalog the Chamber’s historical archives—an extensive collection of news clippings, photographs, and documents dating back to the organization’s earliest days as the State College Chamber of Commerce in the 1920s. I should note that we have had a great experience working the College of the Liberal Arts to obtain smart, capable undergraduate interns and the University Libraries for guidance on archiving procedures.

    The collection is pretty remarkable, and I hope that once we are through taking stock of it, we can arrange some sort of public exhibition of the coolest stuff. Some of my favorite finds so far:

    • About 10 years ago, I learned about a proposal to close Allen Street between College and Beaver to install a pedestrian mall. I remembered thinking it was a very cool idea that might gets it chance within the next decade or so. We’re still waiting, but I had no idea of just how long that wait has been. Thanks to my encounter with the CBICC archives, I know the concept actually reached a pretty serious planning stage in 1965 (models were built) and had been discussed as early as the mid-1920s.
    • Articles dating back to the 1960s foreshadow the inefficiencies and financial costs of maintaining multiple municipal governments within the boundaries of “State College.” Today, the six municipalities that make up the community (SC Borough and College, Ferguson, Half Moon, Harris, and Patton Townships) each enjoy their unique character and relative autonomy, but consistently struggle to reconcile regional issues like infrastructure, transportation and the costs of police/fire services. I wonder how many of us appreciate how long this arrangement has been a matter of debate.
    • I especially enjoyed a CDT editorial from 1985 lamenting the Phi Psi 500 as a raucous, manufactured “drinking holiday” and arguing for its extinction. The similarity to modern jeremiads against State Patty’s Day, right down to the exact language, are striking and amusing, and we now know they were ultimately successful (younger readers will need to click the link to even understand what I’m referencing). It sheds valuable light on the “drinking holiday” as hardly a new or novel occurrence at Penn State. I wonder if those Reagan-era critics of the 500 could have seen its eventual replacement whether they might have just left well enough alone.

    Discovering this sort of information is fun, of course, but it also offers valuable perspective that can help us have more honest conversations and make smarter choices.The real challenge comes in bringing these stories to life in a way that captures the imagination, allowing that beneficial knowledge to sink in.

    A Disclaimer: I can’t reference Revsine’s book without also mentioning that, yes, as can only be expected for a modern work of journalism examining the state of college football, its foreword contains a couple of rather unflattering allusions to Penn State. For some, that alone will be enough to dismiss it out of hand. I am not among them. To his credit, Revsine at least bothers to include the seemingly-optional “allegedly” when referencing the Freeh Report’s most controversial conclusions. As a community, we will live (and wrestle) with the Penn State leadership’s post-scandal decisions and their consequences for many years. Having accepted this, I choose against recusing myself from any otherwise worthwhile conversation that includes a harsh reminder that Pandora’s Box can never be closed back up again.

  • A Surprise Princess Nittany Sighting

    I recently wrote about the presence of Princess Nittany throughout the community for our regular online column with Town & Gown. From downtown murals to student movies, our local hero manifests in numerous forms around the Nittany Valley. Yesterday, I encountered her in a rather unlikely spot: a 1985 football poster issued by Anheuser-Busch.

    I had the good fortune to spend the afternoon with George Henning, owner of a truly remarkable collection of historic Penn State artifacts (and author of the Foreword to our first-time publication of Erwin Runkle’s history of the University). When I think about those who have dedicated a portion of their lives to stewarding the heritage of the Nittany Valley, George ranks near the top of the list. Included among his treasury are several items from simpler times, days when no one batted an eye at beer ads oh-so-thinly disguised as college football schedules. As we paged through these, one caught my eye in particular.

    In 1985, Budweiser’s Penn State football schedule poster featured original artwork that included both Princess Nittany and the Nittany mountain lion as symbols of Old State’s pride and valor on the gridiron. To see Princess Nittany pop up in a mass-produced commercial item like this was striking, and it certainly speaks to my point about her pervasive influence on the way we think about and tell our local story. I’m filled with questions about the background and origin of the poster. After all, regional folklore isn’t typical fodder for a multinational corporation. For the present, I can only offer some images (excuse the iPhone photography) and the text from the poster, quoted below.

    And if something in your modern sensibility is jarred by PSU football appearing alongside a beer logo, it’s nothing compared to ads George told me about from 1930s issues of Froth, the campus humor magazine, that featured a smoking Santa Claus extolling the health benefits of cigarettes!

    The Legend of the Nittany Lion

    Seated in the Nittany Valley at the foot of Mount Nittany, Penn State ranks as a formidable foe on any field of play.

    How much of the school’s success can be attributed to their Nittany Lion mascot is difficult to say. But the mascot is certainly a symbol of stealth and valor.

    The lion, in fact, is a mountain lion that was said to have roamed the mountains of central Pennsylvania. Among those mountains is Mount Nittany. Mount Nittany, as legend has it, was named after an Indian princess whose valor was so renowned that the Great Spirit formed the mountain in her honor.

    Hence, the Nittany Lion.

  • Discovering Princess Nittany

    Discovering Princess Nittany

    Who is Princess Nittany?

    Put simply, she is the Nittany Valley’s answer to Hercules, King Arthur, and Luke Skywalker — she’s a legendary champion who embodies virtues such as strength, heroism, wisdom, and compassion, and whose story helps define and strengthen a people’s sense of themselves. Like the proud Pennsylvania mountain lion who represents both Penn State and State High, she symbolizes the enduring spirit of our place. She belongs to us.

    In his 1916 book, Juniata Memories, Pennsylvania folklorist Henry W. Shoemaker first published the legend of a brave warrior princess named Nittany who led her people through famine and war and who, upon her death, was so honored that her burial mound grew up into a mighty mountain overnight.

    Dating back at least to Shoemaker’s time, our community has a long history with its beloved heroine. Penn Staters have been retelling the story of Princess Nittany for nearly 100 years. The 1916 La Vie included a student-authored version of the legend incorporating a twist — its ending told of the college whose students were inspirited with “the goodness of Nittany.” Thus began a relationship that spans across time, transcending town and gown and blending the imaginary and the real.

    When the fledgling Mount Nittany Conservancy faced the daunting challenge of raising $120,000 in 12 months to save the mountain in its natural form, improbable success came not through a plea for natural conservation, but from an appeal to honor the spirit of its legendary princess.

    One of the area’s most immediately recognizable landmarks, the Hiester Street mural painted by Michael Pilato and Yuri Karabash, celebrates our local heritage by depicting people who have shaped the character of the community. Perhaps because she exists among us in spirit as surely as her fellow mural subjects existed in the flesh, Princess Nittany is shown seated at street level, peering out at passersby with pensive gaze. Recently, when Nina and George Woskob commissioned Pilato and Karabash to create another painting that tells the Nittany Valley’s story, they chose to feature Princess Nittany and key elements from the legend.

    Similarly, when images from State College’s culture and history were added by way of a mural to Calder Way, a painting of Princess Nittany joined depictions of forgotten campus traditions, milestones such as the local demonstrations for woman suffrage, and early football games. However, neither the Hiester Street nor Calder Way painting was the first to pay tribute to our princess through community art.

    Last year, Nittany Valley Press published a collection of Shoemaker’s American Indian legends pertaining directly to our region and the surrounding area titled The Legends of the Nittany Valley. In the book’s introduction, I wrote about the potential for mythology to facilitate dialog, enrich experience, and burnish collective identity, and I argued for these local legends as a means of expressing our sense for the subtle feeling of magic that pervades Happy Valley.

    While conducting research for the book, a stroke of luck (or maybe spiritual inspiration from the princess herself) led us to an online article about another, much older mural featuring Princess Nittany only days before it disappeared from the Web. Had our timing been just a bit off, we would have missed it entirely. As it happened, we were able to learn about the Mount Nittany Mural located at the State College Area School District’s Fairmount Avenue Building, which today houses the Delta Program and once served as the local high school. The mural was created as part of a 1948 graduate thesis by Penn State student Reba Esh, whose advisor was Dr. Viktor Lowenfeld, organizer of the university’s art-education department. Her thesis involved organizing a collaborative “community mural” project modeled after the Depression era’s urban-revitalization efforts sponsored by the Works Progress Administration. The students and townsfolk involved in the mural’s production chose to tell “the story of the Nittany Valley” through the Legend of Princess Nittany.

    Indeed, such myths have great power to communicate and captivate. Locally, they are not confined to the story of our warrior princess and her wondrous burial mound.

    Confusion often arises between the Princess Nittany, after whom, as the legend tells it, the famous mountain is named, and another Princess Nittany (sometimes spelled Nita-Nee), who features prominently in the story of Malachi Boyer and Penn’s Cave (both stories appear in The Legends of the Nittany Valley). Within the chronology of local fiction, Princess Nita-Nee who was the object of Boyer’s affections lived long after Princess Nittany (and the mountain’s naming) and was called Nita-Nee because the courage and dignity of the original were such that the name “Nittany” had become one of great honor.

    Amy Camacho, Kayla Gibbon, and Lisa Pierce sent me information on their senior film, a documentary that explores the resonance of Nita-Nee’s legend. They have kindly granted us permission to share it here. I submit it as proof positive for the enduring appeal of a robust local mythology, not to mention the value of an established cultural conservancy that can amplify the efforts of those seeking to express and share their affection for our place.

    (This short documentary takes place in State College, Pennsylvania and discusses the legend of Penn’s Cave; a tragic love story about Princess Nita-nee & her forbidden lover, Malachi Boyer. The legend, along with many other tales, was written by Pennsylvania folklorist, Henry Shoemaker. This documentary uses the legend, real or not, to show the importance of myths & legends not only in Pennsylvania’s culture, but the world’s. This film was an assignment for the COMM 437 Advanced Documentary class at Pennsylvania State University. Made by: Amy Camacho, Kayla Gibbon, & Lisa Peirce)

    Just as debate continues over which, if any, historical figures inspired the legends of Arthur Pendragon or Robin Hood, the true roots of our local folklore remain in doubt. Scholarly critics and historians will tell us that although Native American tribes once thrived throughout the pastoral valley we now call home, neither brave Princess Nittany nor the star-crossed lover who was her namesake ever existed. Further, they will argue, both were first imagined not by our American Indian forebears, but rather by Shoemaker himself. Perhaps this is true. I have talked with more than one acquaintance of modern Leni Lenape descendants who argue otherwise. More importantly though, who cares?

    As we go through the second decade of the twenty-first century, there can be no argument that Princess Nittany has taken on a life of her own. Irrespective of their origins, from yearbook authors writing nearly a century ago to community members of the 1940s and right on up through local artists and student filmmakers of today, visions of our heroic princess continue to inspire preservation and renewal of our shared story.

  • Penn State and the Ghosts of Blue/White Past: 1994

    Thanks to the quirks of this year’s calendar, Penn State’s annual intra-squad scrimmage will be upon us earlier than usual and is now just a week away (let’s hope to avoid a repeat of last year’s wind and snow). Much has changed for the program since the Lions last capped off Spring practice with a Blue-White Game, from reductions in the stifling NCAA sanctions to the departure and replacement of Bill O’Brien. The excitement surrounding Coach Franklin and his staff has been palpable around the region, and I fully expect that energy will draw a large, vibrant crowd from across Nittany Nation on Saturday.

    Last year I revisited the The Daily Collegian’s coverage of the 1982 Blue-White Game. For 2014, I chose to look back at what people were saying in the months leading up to the Fall of 1994, a year in which Penn State would showcase one of the most potent offenses in the history of modern college football and earn a trip to the Rose Bowl.

    Penn State football stood on the cusp of a new era entering 1994, having just completed its first season as a member of the Big Ten following decades as an independent Eastern powerhouse. Many analysts and fans (and perhaps more than a few rival athletic directors and coaches) thought it was simply a matter of time before the Nittany Lions overwhelmed their venerable brethren in pursuit of conference and national titles. History records that things did not go exactly as planned on that score, but during Old State’s second year of league play, the era of Blue and White dominance appeared to be right on schedule. The ’94 Lions, still mentioned in reverent tones far beyond Happy Valley, unleashed a virtually unstoppable offense that featured over a dozen future NFL players, including multiple first-round selections in the 1995 Draft. The ’94 team triumphed in some of the program’s most memorable contests ever on the way to an unblemished record, yet was inexplicably denied a deserved share of the championship awarded to Tom Osborne’s undefeated Nebraska Cornhuskers. For the most part, it doesn’t feel like 20 years; although in some respects of course, it seems far longer.

    A few points that stood out from The Daily Collegian‘s preview of the 1994 Spring Game:

    • Unlike many special seasons, including the 1982 title run I profiled last year, fans seemed to have a strong sense of what might be in store. Most of the concern focused – appropriately – on the defense, a group that was understandably overshadowed by their counterparts and probably underappreciated as a result, but who also fell a few notches short of the units on other great Penn State teams. Meanwhile, the offensive forecast was downright optimistic, though I’m not sure anyone expected the juggernaut-level output to come. Kyle Brady openly dreams of an undefeated season and national championship!
    • Speaking of Brady, the legendary tight end almost left school before the ’94 season – twice. As Ryan Jones, senior editor of The Penn Stater and then-Collegian sports writer, reports, Brady, a highly-touted recruit, flirted with the idea of transfer early in his career after an injury allowed former walk-on (and future NFLer) Troy Drayton to supplant him in the lineup. After choosing to stick it out, Brady came close to passing on his senior campaign to join the pros. While he pondered the wisdom of his choice at the time, we know now that it paved the way for his place in Penn State lore and rise to the ninth overall pick in the following year’s draft.

    The Daily Collegian – 1994 Blue-White Preview

    The Daily Collegian – 1994 Blue-White Coverage

    Read and enjoy these articles as you count down the hours before you pack up the car for the trip back “home” or open your door to returning friends and family. You’ll no doubt smile more than once, at those little details that are different today and the bigger things that are virtually unchanged. Looking back into Old State’s past fosters a special appreciation for ways in which the Nittany Valley is at once dynamic and timeless.

  • ‘State of State,’ a Dialogue on the Present and Future of the University

    I had the pleasure of attending Penn State’s student-created “State of State” conference last weekend, described as a “dialogue on the present and the future of the University.” The daylong event, held on campus at the HUB, featured a series of speakers—students, faculty, alums and townsfolk—who each gave 10-minute presentations about issues and ideas relevant to the community and its growth. From Emeritus trustee and publishing icon Mimi Barash Coppersmith recounting the history of town/gown relations to NPHC president Abiola Ajibola addressing the definition of “diversity,” the afternoon offered a range of perspectives on a wide variety of topics relevant to “the state of State.”

    Steve Garguilo, among the day’s featured speakers, mixed some playful satire with a serious message to discuss authenticity as the currency of successful marketing in the new era of “unbuttoned wonder:”

    At the intersection of town and gown is the symbiotic and inextricable relationship that is crucial to defining the unique character of Happy Valley. In attempting to spur critical conversations spanning the gaps that divide College Avenue, I believe State of State can make a unique and valuable contribution to our community. That the event was conceived of and organized completely by Penn State students is all the better. I asked some who attended to share their own thoughts on the event and its future:

    “State of State provided a much needed opportunity for an inter-community dialogue of student, alumni, and community stakeholders to take place in an event that was uniquely one of its kind. Plain and simple it got people talking and fostered a conversation that Penn Staters from all perspectives could participate in.” -Anthony Christina

    “Members of our University community are clearly thirsty to have critical conversations about what’s going on at Penn State. Unfortunately, the administration has not made it a priority to create forums for this. Patrick, Suzanne, and the other visionary students who self-selected to create State of State should be very proud of the important dialogue they’ve initiated. Kudos to them for their leadership. Between students, faculty, staff, alumni, residents, and all other members of our community, there is much we can accomplish together when we’re having authentic conversations.” -Steve Garguilo

    “It is essential for any community to participate in appropriate forums to discuss the crucial issues facing our lives. The inaugural State of State conference provided a wonderful opportunity to share insight with each other and to tell our story, the Penn State story. I’m looking forward to State of State becoming an annual highlight in our community for years to come.” -Kevin Horne

    “State of State was a great way to spark conversation about some of the most pressing topics at Penn State. I hope that the spark generated from the event can materialize into a real change.” -Zach Zimbler

  • ‘I See Penn State!’

    ‘I See Penn State!’

    I had lunch today with John Patishnock, an employee of the Penn State Alumni Association and freelance writer. John is a local who recently returned home after several years living away from Pennsylvania, and he writes a regular column for the Centre County Gazette on his experiences “Re-discovering Happy Valley.”

    His introductory piece recounts a family hike up Mount Nittany, fulfillment of a long-delayed requirement for any legitimate “Penn State bucket list.” Of course, we have a soft spot for Mount Nittany memories and the like, as evidenced by our release of “Conserving Mount Nittany”. One passage in particular caught my attention, because it speaks to the distinctive Spirit of the Valley we seek to conserve. John and his hiking party have reached the famed Mike Lynch overlook and are admiring the view of town and campus…

    Then something unexpected transpires, something I doubt I forget for the rest of my life. A group, which includes a young boy and girl, join us on the overlook, which is overrun with stones and tree branches and stumps creating unofficial paths.

    “I see Penn State!” the young girl screams, extending her arm and pointing her finger toward the horizon. The euphoria is loud and excitement-filled, the kind of outburst that’s rarely seen in everyday life that all too often seems mundane and predictable.

    But that’s the type of joy that Penn State continually provides, no matter what may happen to alter the perception of a university that for so long has and continues to be a worldwide leader in so many areas.

    One of the best aspects of our work so far has been the opportunity to discover and connect with so many people who share our love and loyalty for the Nittany Valley. I enjoyed reading John’s piece and look forward to working with him on an exciting publishing and multimedia project that we have in development. We’ll be working to surface some of the most remarkable untold stories of a place where ordinary people do extraordinary things.

  • At Homecoming, More Than Penn State Lives Here

    Ok, so I couldn’t resist the urge to have a little good-natured fun with the University’s newly-unveiled marketing campaign:

    Gary Cattell, the Willard Preacher, Knows Where Penn State Lives

    I’ve been thinking that I needed to add a post about this past Saturday, but to be honest, it’s the Tuesday morning after, and I’m still processing it. Suffice to say, things happened in Happy Valley this weekend that embodied the essence of “the Old State Spirit”. This will be a brief and tangential meditation on one of the more remarkable Homecoming weekends in memory, so I reserve the right to come back and comment further if I ever manage to wrap my brain around it.

    I was struck by some comments from Onward State’s Casey Dexter, who, in a piece published this morning, bravely copped to bolting the Beav early and missing the epic conclusion of our instant classic against Michigan. Having left the stadium halfway through the fourth quarter, Casey and her friends were not in the stands for Allen Robinson’s gravity-defying catch, the heart-stopping four overtimes or the pandemonium after…

    Instead, I stood in line at Yogurt Express waiting for a very average-tasting smoothie.

    In my defense, watching the rest of the game in that little shop was actually really cool. A small group had gathered inside to huddle around the TV, and people from the other local shops kept popping their heads in to see the final moments. It was heartwarming to see that everyone, whether they were at the game or not, was in the Penn State spirit. Even Michigan fans (who dared not come inside) watched the end of the game from outside the window. It was nothing compared to the electric shock of pride and awe I imagine was felt in the stands, but it really exemplified the close-knit downtown community that is Penn State.

    I guess with this confessional I’m trying to make two points. First and foremost, I’m an idiot and will probably always regret leaving this game early, but secondly, the Penn State spirit was (and is) palpable across campus, and probably across the country, regardless of whether you’re screaming in the stands or at your TV.

    Yes, they missed out , but their consolation prize was a chance to share in a smaller, more intimate moment that was, nevertheless, just as unique and as revealing of the character and spirit that make this Valley special.

    It is very easy for Penn State students to forget that the Nittany Valley is a broader community—of place, culture, time and spirit—that extends  beyond the borders of campus, and that their years in school are the beginning, not the totality, of the journey. Likewise, it is all too common for residents of State College and alumni of Penn State to forget that the youthful energy of the student body has always been what sustains and gives life to this place. The symbiotic relationship of Town and Gown—and the reality that there is no line where one ends and the other begins—defines us.

    It is very appropriate that this is a story about Homecoming, the time when the Penn State community comes together to celebrate its shared identity. When I look back on this weekend as time passes, I’ll think not only of white-clad students crowding together behind the south endzone goalposts, desperately hoping for a missed field goal attempt that reason and probability left them no right to expect, but also of students and shopkeeps, standing together around the Yogurt Express TV set, sharing that same tension, also daring to hope. Both tell the story of who “We Are.”

  • The ‘Magic of Simplicity’ at the Nittany Lion Shrine

    The ‘Magic of Simplicity’ at the Nittany Lion Shrine

    The Nittany Lion Shrine was reopened this week after a summer of renovation. Kevin Horne, Managing Editor of Onward State, shares his perspective on the iconic symbol of the campus:

    I grew up only an hour away in Williamsport, so this campus was no stranger to me when I enrolled at Penn State three years ago. Consequently, neither was the Lion Shrine. (Proof: Flat Stanley and myself, circa 1999. I was a lot cooler back then, as you can see.) I didn’t realize it then of course, but there was something magical about the simplicity of the whole thing. When Heinz Warneke sculpted the Shrine 73 years ago, I don’t think he could have imagined the landmark — some might even call it sacred ground — that it would become. Indeed, you would hard pressed to find ANY Penn Stater who hasn’t snapped a photo with their arm around the thing.

    It was, in a phrase, a true “symbol of our best.” It wasn’t much, of course — just a statue on top of an eroding mountain of mulch — but isn’t there an endearing quality about something like that? Isn’t that sort of modesty something Penn Staters have always held close to the heart, much like the basic blue uniforms our football team will run out of the tunnel wearing on Saturday?

    I still get chills when I walk by the Lion Shrine. I would map out my nightly runs accordingly so I’d be able to pass the shrine with no one else around, looking stately as ever under the single spotlight. It was an emotion I couldn’t control, not because of how it looked or the landscape surrounding it, but because of what it symbolizes to generations of Penn Staters. A student today could talk to a student who graduated 50 years ago and the Lion Shrine is one symbol they share in common. In today’s thirst for modernity, that timelessness is difficult to find.

    I walked over the new Lion Shrine yesterday morning and I just couldn’t shake the pit in my stomach no matter how hard I tried. Don’t get me wrong — the place looks fine. Aside from the base of the statue, which clashes with the actual Shrine and sticks out like a sore thumb, it’s an aesthetic improvement for certain. It’s also important to have a ramp for handicap access. But I don’t think it will ever be the same for me. The area just feels so scripted and manmade — almost like there should be a gift shop peddling Lion Shrine postcards and coffee mugs off to the side somewhere (don’t get any ideas, Old Main). It has lost the magic of simplicity. In this era of change, that magic is hard to come by.

    I’m sure I’ll get over it. It is, after all, an impressive display. But I know that I’ll always miss that modest mountain of mulch. And I know that when my kids come to Penn State and I take their first Lion Shrine picture, something will be missing. At least to me, anyway.

    Photo credit: Penn State University

  • Mount Nittany Memories

    Mount Nittany Memories

    Tom Shakely’s “Conserving Mount Nittany” pairs original interviews and analysis with a wealth of previously-published but little-known content to create a definitive history of our community’s preservation of the mountain in its natural state. Rather brilliantly, I think, he contrasts this great success with the comparatively underwhelming “preservation” of Hort Woods, the once-sprawling sylvan refuge on Penn State’s campus that today is but a shade of its former self.

    Its launch was covered by Onward State. The book presents the story of Mount Nittany’s conservation as “dynamic environmentalism,” Tom’s notion that natural preservation efforts are most effective when understood within a community/cultural context. I think this comes out in the comments about Mount Nittany below, which have come in as a result of the book’s release. Part of what makes the spirit of the Valley so special is that, although it feels timeless and immutable, we also each experience it in our own individual ways. While Mount Nittany means something different to each of us, it means something to all of us.

    You’ll see this at work in the comments excerpted below. I hope you will enjoy reading them and that they may stir some of your own memories of the Mountain (or inspire a first journey, if you’ve never been). You can extend the experience by owning Tom’s book and learning more about the Mount Nittany Conservancy.

    “My favorite memories of the mountain are climbing it with the Blue Band… It was a great time becoming closer with different people in the 300+ band and having fun enjoying the wonderful views the mountain gives with everyone.”

    “In the fall of 2009, myself and 34 other THON Rules & Regulations Captains made climbing Mt. Nittany one of our team building exercises. On a nice weekend morning, we helped each other climb to the top with the wooden pallet, some hot dogs, marshmallows, and all of our cameras or camera phones for that picture every Penn Stater should take at the top with the Happiest Valley in the world in the background!”

    “I’ll always remember the first time I climbed Mount Nittany, the summer before my freshman year. I was a bit uneasy preparing for the ‘college experience’ but ultimately very excited. The view from the top of Mt. Nittany at dusk, the setting sun covering State College in a hue of sunset orange, is an incredible sight It left me feeling secure and calm.”

    “I loved looking through my binoculars and pointing out Beaver Stadium, Old Main, west campus (where I lived at the time). These were all of the Penn State staples and for the first time I really got to put into perspective how immense our campus is and thought about how so many diverse activities could fit into such a relatively small area. I had always heard our campus referred to as the ‘Penn State bubble,’ but from this view it didn’t necessarily seem like a bad thing.”

    “We had the perfect afternoon a few days after a snowfall in February… The view was incredible that day. Snow blanketed the valley and it was calm and quiet. We will never forget that day and what led to many more hikes/races to the top!”

    “Climbing Mt. Nittany is a rite of passage for all Penn Staters who, upon making the journey, have their eyes opened and their vision enhanced to the world beyond and the possibilities that lie over the next horizon. I personally remember many such climbs including those undertaken as an NROTC midshipman. They served as a reminder of what we protect and why we were called to do so.”

  • Visions of Princess Nittany

    Does the Nittany Valley have a genius loci? I think so.

    I think we see encounter it through the book The Legends of the Nittany Valley, which features some of Henry Shoemaker’s American Indian legends and folk tales pertaining to our area.

    I think we encounter some of that spirit through this community’s intergenerational tradition of honor Indigenous peoples, perhaps most notably by naming our Mountain “Nittany” and by sharing folk stories of “Princess” Nittany.

    As I explain in the book’s introduction, taking ownership of a unique and quirky mythology that is necessarily tied to the very real physical spaces around us helps solidify a common identity firmly rooted in sense of place.

    The more we incorporate, in small but important ways, these stories and symbols into the daily life of our community, the more fully we manifest the special spirit of the Valley, for residents and visitors alike. With the recent addition of Michael Pilato’s Princess Nittany mural outside Panera Bread on Allen street, I thought it a good time to share some examples of Princess Nittany’s subtle presence throughout State College, as pictured here.

    In addition to the new Pilato painting (right) and among other places not pictured, our princess-exemplar can be spotted along Calder Way (center) and on a community mural housed in the old State College high school, now the Delta Program building (this image, on the left, is also featured on the back cover of our Legends book).

    Confusion often arises between the Princess Nittany (sometimes spelled Nita-Nee), after whom, the legend has it, our famous Mountain is named, and another Princess Nittany, who features prominently in the story of Malachi Boyer and Penn’s Cave (both stories appear in The Legends of the Nittany Valley). Within the chronology of local fiction, the Princess Nittany who was the object of Boyer’s affections lived long after her (and the Mountain’s) namesake and was so named because the courage and dignity of the original were such that the name “Nittany” had become one of great honor.

    These are fun stories with the lasting potential to at once shape and embody the character of our community, all the more so when we make them real and meaningful parts of the places where we work and play.

  • Our Happy Valley and ‘the Real Value of a Real Education’

    I felt compelled to post about this video, which (to my knowledge) has absolutely no direct connection with Penn State or the Nittany Valley. I think its core message—about the true purpose and value of higher education—is worth sharing and does speak to a philosophy that animates so much that is good about our community.

    In 2005 (a good year), author David Foster Wallace gave a commencement address at Kenyon College in Ohio. The entire thing is exceptional and worth hearing from start to finish,  but I will quote from the section that inspired this piece:

    “The real value of a real education… has almost nothing to do with knowledge and everything to do with simple awareness, awareness of what is so real and essential, so hidden in plain sight all around us all the time, that we have to keep reminding ourselves over and over.” 

    In his book, “Is Penn State A Real University? An Investigation of the University as a Living Ideal,” Dr. Ben Novak shares the vision that Penn State’s founders had for a new sort of institution predicated on the concept of “Two Colleges,” one of credits and coursework and one of experience and camaraderie, where the “real University” took shape outside the classroom.

    I prefaced a recent talk by Dr. Novak by explaining why Nittany Valley Press published it: Not to persuade readers to embrace its positions, but to preserve the chance to engage with them, the opportunity to encounter a new and challenging way of thinking about something fundamental in our lives and to form an opinion of it. I do find a lot to like and agree with in Novak’s musings, but I also value it as an eternal spark, fraught with the potential to ignite the fires of intellectual curiosity and discourse that perpetually refresh our Valley and its University.

    Internalizing Wallace’s message brought to mind the value of Dr. Novak’s book and also reminded me of a quality that helps makes college towns unique and the Nittany Valley so special. We are lucky enough to have lived in a place where the essence of “real education” invoked by Wallace, the creative, inquisitive spirit that drives humanity forward, dwells forever. Every townie, every Penn Stater, has been touched by that in some way. And that’s pretty cool.

    The point, I think, of Wallace’s speech, though it touches on the power of education to unlock our potential, is to remind us to be mindful and reinforce that the extent to which we are (or aren’t) is by our own choice. What new rewards might you reap by re-examining your relationship to Penn State or State College, by being mindful of what seems most obvious? Think on that. It’s a journey worth taking.