Penn State Spirit

  • Imagining Centre County and the Nittany Valley of the 1920s

    By Cori Agostinelli Kalupson

    The giving and graceful nature of our community help make it such a special place. For 40 years now, these qualities have been on display through the locally-supported growth of the Centre County Women’s Resource Center, a source of help and hope for area women in need. The CCWRC is sustained in part through its Twilight Dinners program. Each Spring, an eclectic mix of local businesses and philanthropists host thoughtful, upscale events ranging from intimate dinners to a garden party for a crowd.

    The themes are diverse and imaginative, restricted only by the hosts’ creativity. What they all have in common is a commitment to making the Valley “Happy” – and safe – for everyone. This month, two of the Twilight dinners will feature parties evoking nostalgia for the 1920’s, including a “Roaring 20’s” night reminiscent of the parties described by F. Scott Fitzgerald in The Great Gatsby. This evening is co-hosted by B Events and Juniper Village at Brookline and catered by Brown Dog Catering.

    In the spirit of this event and in keeping with the theme of “looking back” established with last month’s Reminiscences of Dr. Pond, here are some snap shots of life in the Nittany Valley during the 1920’s…

    Women at Penn State

    In 1871, Penn State, then called the Agricultural College of Pennsylvania, became the Commonwealth’s first institution of higher learning to admit female students. Fifty years after this momentous decision, progress had been slow-moving, and the College remained a primarily male-dominated institution. Women comprised just 10% of the student body in 1924; the photo below shows the entire female undergraduate population from 1926. Nevertheless, the 1920’s saw several important developments that signaled the growing stake of women students in campus life.

    For the first time, women were granted a weeknight curfew and permission to leave campus by themselves. While quaint by modern standards, these new “freedoms” represented a significant step forward at the time. In addition, several new clubs and organizations for women were established during the Twenties, marking previously unseen levels of influence and participation by female students. These included the women’s campus trial club, the Nita-Nee Club, Omicron Nu, an honorary home economics sorority, and “The Lion’s Tale,” the first publication by female students and alumnae at the College. In 1926, the Nu Gamma Chapter of Chi Omega became Penn State’s first national sorority. Perhaps the most lasting of the decade’s contributions came a year prior, when the Women’s Student Government Association contributed $30 to purchase four pairs of squirrels that are, most likely, direct ancestors of the many, many squirrels that populate campus today.

    Change was also evident in new roles and opportunities for women working at the College. In 1920, M. Elizabeth Cates was hired as the school’s first director of physical education for women, an opening necessitated by the newly-established women’s athletic program (very different from what we know today). In recognition of the growing female student population, Penn State hired its first full-time dean of women – Charlotte Ray – in 1923. One year later, Julia Gregg Brill, a 1921 graduate, became the first female faculty member in the English department.

    The decade closed out with another crucial turning point. In 1929, Mildred Settle Bunton became the first woman of color admitted to Penn State.

    State College

    Still a very small agricultural community existing at the fringes of the modest, but growing Pennsylvania State College, the town experienced rapid population growth during the Twenties. According to Census figures, State College nearly doubled in size between 1920 and 1930, going from 2,405 residents to 4,450 in a decade (still smaller than a sell-out crowd at Rec Hall!).

    The decade also saw local milestones in education and business. In 1921, an expansion was added to the Fairmount Avenue High School (current home of the Delta Program) followed by construction of the Nittany Avenue Grammar School, which today houses the school district’s central administration offices, in 1924.  The forerunner of the CBICC, the State College Chamber of Commerce, was established in 1920, and several of the area’s most recognizable businesses got their start during the ensuing decade.

    Students and locals could shop for clothes at Harper’s (originally Stark Bros. & Harper), have lunch at The Corner Room, and then stroll across Allen Street for a trim at Rinaldo’s Barber Shop – all three first opened their doors between 1925 and ’26. Other noteworthy local businesses that began in the 1920’s and still exist today include: Woodring’s Floral Gardens (1922), State College Floral Shoppe (1923), Balfurd Cleaners (1927), Alexander Construction (1928), and The Diner (1929).

    The local scene was hardly the stuff of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel, but neither did the Jazz Age pass by unremarked. Tyrone native and Penn State architectural engineering student Fred Waring would become an influential musician and entertainer of his day. His band, Waring’s Pennsylvanians, started on the road to fame during the Twenties, playing “collegiate-flavored” shows inspired by life in Happy Valley.

    In 1920, residents might have tuned in to results of the Harding/Cox Presidential election via Pittsburgh’s KDKA, the nation’s first terrestrial radio station, and by 1923, they could hear special, one-time coverage of the Nittany Lion football team’s game against Navy at New Beaver Field via WPSC, one of America’s first college radio operations (Penn State won 21-3).

    Football

    The Nittany Lions experienced an up-and-down decade on the gridiron, guided throughout by future College Football Hall of Fame coach Hugo Bezdek, who was also Penn State’s first full-time director of athletics. Playing schedules that ranged from nine to 11 games that featured frequent matchups with opponents like Gettysburg, Lehigh, Lebanon Valley, and Carnegie Tech, the Lions posted only one losing season (1928), and, in 1922, even made the program’s first-ever appearance in the Rose Bowl, falling to Southern California 14-3. No summary of Penn State football in the 1920’s would be complete, however, without mention of the dreadful record against our in-state rival. With an overall record of 0-8-2, Penn State opened up with two scoreless ties against Pitt (1920-21) then proceeded to lose the remaining eight matchups that decade. Fortunately for Bezdek, online message boards were still nearly 70 years away.

  • A Voice from Old State’s Past

    The following, abridged and lightly edited, is taken from “Reminiscences of Dr. F.J. Pond,” a pamphlet-style Nittany Valley Press book of Penn State memories from Dr. Francis Pond, an alumnus and Atherton-era professor. Dr. Pond recorded these reminiscences shortly before his death, and tells us about Old State from a very different time—a place both foreign and familiar.

    Dr. Francis J. Pond was born in Holliston, Massachusetts, on April 8, 1871, the son of Abel and Lucy A. Jones Pond. Dr. Pond entered The Pennsylvania State College in September 1888 and was graduated in the chemistry course with the class of 1892. While in college he was an associate editor of the Free Lance from April 1890 to March 1891; assistant editor of the class annual, the La Vie, for 1892; Vice President of the Washington Literary Society for 1890, and its Treasurer for 1891. He was always interested in sports, especially football, and eagerly followed every game.

    In 1896, he returned to The Pennsylvania State College as an instructor in the Chemistry Department, where he worked under his brother, Dr. Gilbert G. (“Swampy”) Pond. For many years he was head of the Chemistry Department, and in 1907, he was made Dean of Freshmen.

    Dr. Pond died suddenly from a heart attack February 18, 1943, at his home in Upper Montclair, New Jersey. When the following notes were dictated, his accuracy about details and dates of over fifty years ago was observed over and over again. He also had a nice sense of humor; and during his two weeks’ vacation in the fall of 1942, when he spent part of every day reminiscing, he was enjoyed by everyone with whom he came in contact.

    President George W. Atherton

    Dr. Atherton, who was a wonderful man, was also a good politician. He knew how to work the middle against both ends. He went to Harrisburg and secured the first appropriation of any size for the college. This was in 1887 and amounted to $100,000. He also invited inspection tours by the members of the legislature so that they might see for themselves how badly some improvements were needed. This was always a great occasion for the students because a holiday was declared and the boys showed the visitors around and entertained them. It was on one such visit that “Fog-horn” Fow found the heating plant then located in the basement of the Main Building and decided that to have the students living and going to classes above this plant was like living on an active volcano, and he started proceedings which resulted in the power plant.

    At one time when there was talk of President Atherton’s leaving Penn State for another position, the students became perturbed at the rumor. In order to allay their fears, Dr. Atherton spoke to them and explained that he did not intend to leave. He said that he had always felt that institutions were more important than men and his desire for a long time had been to make an institution here at State College, and he did not intend leaving without fulfilling that desire.

    Football

    Some of the early teams had fancy scores in football. At one time Lehigh beat Penn State 106 to 0. Another memorable time Penn State thought they had a very good team. They took a trip down East in the fall of 1899. One of the teams they played was Yale, and they all felt sure of winning the game. However, they were disappointed; and when the telegram came to State announcing the results of the game, this is what it said: “Yale 40, State 0. The team played well.” The telegram was sent by Kid Biller, Manager, and the words “The team played well” became a slogan around Penn State.

    School Colors

    The early colors of Penn State were Pink and Black. In those days they had a yell which went something like this:

    Yah, yah, yah. Yah, yah, yeh.
    Wish-whack. Pink, black —
    P.S.C.

    Around 1888, when Penn State played Dickinson on the front campus, as there was yet no athletic field, they gave this yell, and the substitutes of the Dickinson team made a parody of it which went like this:

    Yah, yah, hay. Yah, yah, yeh.
    Bees wax. Bees wax —
    A.B.C.

    This so disgusted the boys that soon after they not only changed the college yell but also the colors from Pink and Black to Blue and White, and so they have remained ever since.

    Military

    Classes at this time met from Monday through Friday. Saturday was used for make-up day, hikes, military punishment, etc. Every day there was military inspection both of dress and also of rooms. If the room was untidy or dirty or shoes needed polishing, the boys got a notice on the military bulletin board. Each such report carried one hour’s punishment.

    On the front campus were four cannon — two brass ones which had been used in the Mexican war and two steel ones which were used for artillery drill. One of the favorite punishments inflicted upon the boys was to make them polish the brass cannon which were merely ornamental. The boys some times shot off the cannon to celebrate certain events. Dr. Pond and Mickey McDowell, who were among the few Democrats on campus, shot off the cannon to celebrate the election of Pattison as Democratic governor of Pennsylvania.

    Pranks

    The college had a human skeleton which the students called Old John; there was also a skeleton of a mule. The boys decided it would be quite a joke to mount Old John on the mule and usher him on the stage during a chapel service. They brought them through a side door near the front of the platform. Miss McElwain sat next to this door, and one morning at a given signal the door opened while the minister was praying, and by manipulation from above the skeleton with its rider moved on to the stage just in front of Miss McElwain. The spectacle was enough to unnerve anyone, but she never “batted an eye”.

    The boys in Dr. Frear’s animal chemistry course feared that they might not pass his examination, so they decided to steal his exam questions. But how to do it was the question. The Doctor lived on the third floor of the Main Building. The boys finally decided that since one of them had a room on the fifth floor immediately above Dr. Frear’s, they could lower a boy from the fifth floor into the window on third. They lowered him and then pulled him back up to the fifth floor again. But after going to all this trouble and risking the boy’s life, they failed to find the paper on which the exam questions were written.

  • How Penn Staters Can Encounter Their Heritage

    How Penn Staters Can Encounter Their Heritage

    “To Thy Happy Children / Of The Future
    Those Of The Past / Send Greetings”

    This is the inscription that the University of Illinois’s Alma Mater statue bears for the curious passerby. It’s a perfect encapsulation of everything a place of learning exists to achieve—bringing the reality and wisdom of the past alive in the present, so it can do the same for the future. I wrote about this earlier this year, and shared a few pictures including the iconic personification of Alma Mater at the University of Havana:

    At the time I mentioned a concept for Penn State that I want to convey in the hope that it can be brought to life sooner rather than later.

    The concept: a “Penn State Encountering Heritage” initiative, the purpose being to honor monumental men and women in our history by personifying them across campus through monumental statuary that would make them feel closer to a living part of the university experience.

    We possess an incredibly rich history, thick with the vision and strength of countless men and women who’ve helped build Penn State into what it has become. But aside from Joe and Sue Paterno (and maybe George Atherton) I doubt most could name the most significant figures in our creation or development. Let alone the personalities of our best cultural values or local folklore.

    Why personify leaders of the past

    It’s necessary to acknowledge, even despite our incredibly rich history, that we live in a practical time. What practical value is there in beautiful and romantic notions about honoring monumental leaders?

    Ben Novak, a retired four-term Penn State trustee, offers tremendous perspective on the practical value of the past. In “Is Penn State a Real University?: An Investigation of the University as a Living Ideal,” he writes:

    “The past, because it was lived, cannot really be destroyed. It can only be covered over, like a lush jungle that gets condensed into a pool of oil or a vein of coal, just waiting to be drilled or mined to have its energy released. But you have to dig for it, and you have to know how to use it. When we don’t know what is in the past, we cannot use it, and we cannot release its power.” There’s a reason that millennia after their death we continually re-approach the Greek philosophers. There is an evergreen sort of power in their thinking and stories. There is similar power in Penn State’s past.

    “Fortunately,” Novak underscores, “we do not live in a world where the past, present, and future are in airtight cubicles that we must look at separately as though the past is dead and gone, the present sticks, and the future is always bright. Rather, the past, present, and future are fluid, and keep washing over each other. There were a lot of good things in the past that can brighten the present, and a lot of things in the past that seem to be missing in the present, but which could brighten your future.”

    “Spirit,” Novak concludes, “is indestructible. But only if, in a practical sense, we allow it to come alive in us.” By personifying some of the most monumental figures in our history, we can enshrine them as a physical and concrete part of the campus. Doing so creates the context for the sort of personal and communal encounters with our institutional spirit that allows it to come alive in each new class.

    An abundance of practical value, both institutionally and personally, can be realized in helping the newest members of the Penn State family encounter a few of her oldest as a means to fulfill the Greek challenge at the root of learning, which is to know thyself.

    Who deserves a place on campus

    So who are the sort of people that could brighten our future if we were to encounter them on campus?

    I’m thinking about Evan Pugh, our visionary founding president whose whole story is little known. His spirit lingers near University House, his home. I’m thinking about his remarkable wife Rebecca, Bellefonte-native, whose faith in her husband and his vision outshone death itself. She wanders campus as a symbol of fidelity. I’m thinking about George Atherton, who sustained Evan Pugh’s vision at the turn of the 20th century while encouraging and implementing the development of the modern university structure and who, like Evan, died in striving to realize his vision. Only his grave presently remains.

    I’m thinking of Wally Triplett, who came to Penn State in 1945 on academic scholarship as one of our first African American varsity football players and who during the 1946 season came to embody our community’s cultural values a generation before integration became a serious national conversation. Triplett in bronze stands in spirit near Beaver Stadium, sharing the stories of his time. I’m thinking of Joe and Sue Paterno, who as nominally athletics figures improbably elevated the academic mission of Penn State while supporting the viability of its diverse athletics programs through the powerhouse of college football. The Paternos belong by their library as much as, if not more so, the athletics fields.

    I’m also thinking of people from outside the Penn State experience who nonetheless came into it in an historic way, representing some of its best aspects.  I’m thinking of Martin Luther King, Jr. at Rec Hall, symbol not only of America’s Civil Rights achievements, but also an historic voice representative of the vision of an inclusive culture who shared his prophetic voice with Penn Staters months before Selma.

    I’m even thinking of institutional and legendary symbols like Alma Mater’s personification as the source of knowledge and conveyer of institutional heritage. I’m thinking of Princess Nittany, the folkloric originator of Mount Nittany and the inspiration for our identification as Nittany Lions.

    What do we presently have? We have two modest busts of Evan Pugh and George Atherton in Old Main’s foyer, a place few students ever visit. What stories do these small busts share with the people of the campus and community? What physical context is there for gathering there or for sharing moments with others? None.

    Each of these men, women, and iconic symbols I’ve mentioned speak in some way to aspects of our university’s character. Each represents some fundamental strain in the DNA of the contemporary community, and each helps unlock part of the secret meaning of the declaration that “We Are Penn State.”

    One of my favorite places in Philadelphia is Washington Square. In 1954, planners created what you see above, George Washington and the Tomb of the Unknown Revolutionary War Soldier. It’s a remarkable yet restrained and modest honor that creates the physical context for gatherings and ceremony and admiration.

    We don’t have to think as grandly as the University of Havana’s Alma Mater, or as traditionally as this Washington Square monument. But we owe it to ourselves to think more aggressively and with bolder vision than tucked-away lobby room decorations.

    Where to start

    I think history is most relatable when it’s personal. This is why the most engrossing stories of the past are often told through the people at the center of events, rather than through the otherwise context-shorn details of the events themselves.

    Thanks to Erwin Runkle’s history in The Pennsylvania State College 1853-1932: Interpretation and Record, we know an incredible amount about the persons and personalities of Evan Pugh and Rebecca Pugh, as well as George Atherton.

    To start thinking through how a sculptor might embody our founder, Runkle describes: “a rugged, energetic physique, a straight-forward common sense manner, combined with the heart of a child, and the integrity and moral robustness of mature manhood.”

    Later: “On June 6th, 1863, Dr. Pugh was returning to Willow Bank when a severe thunder storm arose. The horse he was driving was frightened, and backed the buggy over the bank into the stream, throwing the future Mrs. Pugh and himself under the vehicle. Dr. Pugh managed to extricate himself, raise the buggy and rescue his fiancee who suffered severely from bruises and shock. Dr. Pugh sustained a broken arm…”

    After Pugh’s death in 1864, J.B. Lawes writes Rebecca Pugh: “Although I had my fears that he was taxing his powers too severely, I was watching his course with great interest, as I felt certain that if he lived he would be the founder of a great college. I hope some permanent memorial is proposed. I shall be proud to become a contributor in honor of a man whose character and abilities I so greatly admired.”

    Each of these vignettes brings Evan Pugh to life in a special way. There are countless more examples throughout Runkle’s book alone. Writing more than 80 years ago, Runkle points a lingering truth about J.B. Lawes 1864 proposition: “That memorial remains to be erected; somewhere in the Commonwealth there should be the will and consecrated means to give it fitting form and substance.”

    Implementation

    So how can a “Penn State Encountering Heritage” initiative be implemented? I think there are a few opportunities. I think the most natural home for something like this is among student leadership, working to institutionalize this in the way that Homecoming exists to perpetuate culturally significant traditions.

    In terms of revenue, support through a time-limited “Encountering Heritage” allocation approved by students or voluntarily crowdfunded for a period of time makes sense as one of many potential solutions.

    But if student leaders aren’t keen, an alternative home for such an initiative is the Penn State Alumni Association—specifically through an Alumni Council standing committee. Another possibility is through the Alumni Association’s staff-led programming efforts wherein alumni might be engaged broadly—almost of an alumni version of the Senior Class Gift concept, wherein alumni would vote and support on a recurring five or ten year schedule.

    Another possibility is through an Alumni Association partnership with Homecoming or the Senior Class Gift committee to jointly administer such an initiative.

    The opportunity exists. The important thing is to start.

  • Blue-White 2005: Prelude to a Comeback

    By Kevin Horne & Chris Buchignani

    There are certain successes that everyone from the outside can predict. These are victories worthy of celebration, for sure, but movies aren’t made and books aren’t written about the events that everyone sees coming. The stories that inspire us the most and linger in our memories are often the ones that make the unexpected seem possible, the unbelievable a reality.

    Such a story unfolded here in Happy Valley 10 years ago this fall, authored by Penn State’s football team.

    The Nittany Lions were fresh off a 4-7 season, only their sixth losing record in 68 years, but — incredibly — the fourth in the last five. Few now remember how that team, which held every opponent to 21 or fewer points, featured probably one of the best defenses in program history, largely due to an offense everyone would rather forget. Despite that suffocating D, the 2004 Nittany Lions needed to win their final two games to finish with four wins, a one-game improvement over the previous, equally miserable, season’s output. Loyal fans and alumni had had enough.

    At the center of this unrest was a 78-year-old head coach, ostensibly overstaying his welcome at the program he had built and brushing away pleas from even those within his inner circle to move aside. With calls for Joe Paterno’s dismissal or retirement reaching a deafening pitch, his fate appeared inevitable. The journey, as so often happens with legends in sport, was nearing an ignominious end. Except it wasn’t.

    Penn Staters still talk about what happened next, one of the most improbable college football stories ever told. Behind unshakeable senior leaders and explosive freshmen playmakers, the Lions came charging back from the brink, completing a 12-1 season en route to an Orange Bowl win and top-three finish nationally. In one magical season, they rejuvenated an iconic program and an old coach who had been written off by the nation and captivated an entire community in the process. And no one saw it coming. Or did they?

    Could that wily old coach have known what was to come? Could anyone? A review of Daily Collegian articles during the 2005 spring practice suggest that something special was brewing — just how special, only the players and coaches who lived it could have predicted. Nevertheless, a media narrative that had, in recent years, focused almost entirely on Paterno’s age and the dismal on-field results subtly began to shift.

    The first ray of light to pierce the darkness clouding the program’s fortunes came in late 2004 when two gifted recruits — Justin King and Derrick Williams, the number-one prospect in America — announced their intent to play for Penn State and enroll early. With these surprising commitments, Joe Paterno’s insistence that his hapless squad was only a couple playmakers away from greatness — “I wouldn’t care if we didn’t get anybody else but those two kids,” he would say — could now be put to the test.

    Maybe the arrival of King and Williams inspired new confidence. It could be that fresh memories of a supremely talented defense buoyed hopes. Perhaps it was merely the natural, if often irrational, optimism that accompanies every off-season. Suring the spring, the focus shifted from obsession with past failures to pondering the possibility for better days ahead. No one exuded confidence more than the players themselves.

    Senior cornerback Alan Zemaitis, who toyed with the idea of entering the NFL draft after his junior season (it was the first year since 1951 that no Penn Stater was drafted to play in the NFL), knew there was something in the air that spring.
    “The guys we have coming back, the kind of year I know we’re going to have,” Zemaitis said to the Collegian before the Blue-White Game, “I wasn’t ready to leave that.”

    Zemaitis and his fellow senior, quarterback Michael Robinson, were integral to all of Penn State’s success that year, on and off the field. These two, along with so many other great senior leaders such as Tamba Hali, Matthew Rice, Calvin Lowry, and Chris Harrell, were joined by one throwback Steel City linebacker in their singular focus on returning glory to Old State.
    “It’s a huge thing for us just because we know all the great guys who have come before us, and to not try our hardest would be a disservice to them,” linebacker Paul Posluszny said. “If we didn’t try to uphold that, then we would be stamping on the tradition that is Penn State.”

    One month later, “Poz” would be elected the first junior captain at Penn State since the 1968 season, joining Robinson and Zemaitis. By seasons’s end, he was celebrated as one of the best linebackers in the country, winning the Butkus and Bednarik awards while earning Academic All-American status.

    Even as dreams of speedy playmakers danced through fans’ heads, no one outside the program was quite sure how big of an immediate impact those highly touted freshmen could truly have on the beleaguered program: Despite Robinson moving full-time to quarterback for the first time in 2005, the Collegian called the wide receiver corps the team’s “biggest question mark” going into the season. The paper’s Friday primer before Blue-White weekend did note the emergence of unheralded redshirt freshman Deon Butler, a former walk-on brought over from the defensive side of the ball. The same article also tipped off fans to a “sleeper” — local product Jordan Norwood. Butler would go on to lead the ’05 team in touchdown receptions, and Norwood became Robinson’s clutch target down the stretch.

    Before the annual scrimmage was called on account of lightning in the third quarter, Robinson had started answering questions about his own ability to command the offense and what role his new teammates would play in it. The first offensive snap of the game featured a 35-yard completion to a streaking Justin King; the very next saw Williams catch a short pass and juke his way to a nine-yard gain. Robinson called it “a statement.”

    “It could be a glimpse of what might happen in the fall, I don’t know, but we have been working with him on both sides of the ball,” Robinson said of Williams. “He is such a gifted athlete that he is able to do both, so we just wanted to get the ball in his hands and let him run around a little bit.”

    What happened in the fall was one of the great stories of the Nittany Valley, one worth remembering this month as we again celebrate a special spirit the 2005 Nittany Lions embodied like few others.

  • Why Learn the Penn State Story?

    As the keynote speaker for this year’s Willow Gathering, Penn State Lunar Lion mission director Michael Paul talked about how, for Penn State, being the only university among a field of private competitors striving to reach the Moon is opening up incredible opportunities for the institution and her students. Hands-on learning and connections with the global aerospace community are invaluable byproducts of what is, in itself, ground-breaking work. By identifying new innovations and cost efficiencies in lunar exploration, Penn State could make significant, tangible impact on how humanity reaches for the final frontier in the 21st century. I commented that, in their quest to land a lunar module, his team represents a modern extension of Evan Pugh’s vision for a college where practical pursuits could be afforded the same serious study as the humanities in classical universities. Perhaps more than any other single undertaking at Penn State, the Lunar Lion captures the pioneering spirit with which the school was founded.

    It is easy to forget now, when the STEM fields are in such high demand and, as a result, the darlings of politicians and academics, that conventional thinkers once scoffed at the notion of teaching agriculture and engineering in the same hallowed halls as art, literature, and philosophy. The sentiment animating the land-grant movement of the late 1800’s, which recalled self-made renaissance man Evan Pugh from Oxford to his native Pennsylvania, once seemed hopelessly provincial. Farmers and thinkers belong in different rooms, and never the twain shall meet. Pugh’s vision for teaching the advanced study of agriculture and the mechanic arts in the “splendid isolation” of the Nittany Valley was, in its time, a radical experiment in democratizing higher education. Yet history teaches us that the rise of the public research universities laid the groundwork for the American Century, and as they grew, these schools became places that both reflected our society and challenged it to change and grow.

    Penn State was the first institution of higher education in the Commonwealth to admit female students; football star Wally Tripplett came to Happy Valley on an academic scholarship at a time when many black Americans were denied entry to universities on any grounds. There is a lot to learn, not all of it is pretty, although there is plenty in which Penn Staters should take pride

    How our “Second Founder” George Atherton revived a failing college by believing in the “university that was to be,” how Milton Eisenhower sought the favor of his brother, the President of the United States, to build it up, or how Joe Paterno used the occasion of a football national championship, not to demand a higher salary or better facilities for his team, but challenge the University’s trustees to raise the money needed to elevate Penn State academics.

    As we continue to add new chapters—perhaps one day making the “Nittany Nation” the fourth nation to land on the Moon—Penn State’s new undergraduate “History of Penn State” course will help ensure we don’t forget our story or its valuable lessons.

  • Three Coaches, Three Speeches at Penn State’s IFC/Panhellenic Dance Marathon

    This weekend marks the continuation of one of the Nittany Valley’s most remarkable stories. What we know today as THON began humbly some 42 years ago and grew into a phenomenon. “The world’s largest student-run philanthropy” raises millions annually for pediatric cancer patients while uniting the Penn State community like little else. The appearance of various PSU personalities, including the head football coach, to address the crowd has become a highlight of the annual 46-hour celebration (insert #footballculture joke here). I decided to share three THON speeches by three different coaches to reflect on the tenor of the event throughout our recent past and consider what they can reveal about our shared story.

    “I wish the whole world could see and feel what’s in this room right now. Love and commitment… in 58 years at Penn State, I’ve never been more proud than right now.” —Joe Paterno

    In 2009, one of his final seasons on the sidelines, Joe Paterno famously spoke to an enthusiastic audience at the BJC, as seen in the video above. It has been only three years since his death, but already the name, image, and memory of Paterno seem increasingly remote, more and more like icons or totems. Layers of meaning and political subtext – positive and negative – are projected onto them, further separating us from the simpler reality of the flesh-and-blood creature.

    I love this clip in particular for the ways in which it distills and captures Joe the person, earnest and disarmed. It recalls a happier time and reminds us of the actual human being who undeniably gave copiously of himself to better the institution and his community, who inspired such affection and stirred such controversy. I do hope that, one day, Penn State and the Nittany Valley will properly honor the Paternos and, when that time comes, we will find the wisdom to do so in a way that is fundamentally grounded in their humanity.

    “Just having arrived at Penn State, you don’t know anything about THON until you’re in the arena. It’s awesome… I have all the respect in the world for everything that you guys do.” —Bill O’Brien

    THON 2012 was probably one of the most emotional weekends of a uniquely tumultuous year. Facing a barrage of baseless and vitriolic attacks pouring in from the outside, internally wracked with anguish, confusion, and uncertainty, the community rallied around THON and its irrefutable statement about who and what “We Are” and clung tightly to it, comforted by the reminder that no amount of venom could dilute all that good done each year in Penn State’s name. It was with this backdrop that new head football coach Bill O’Brien took the stage. Only two weeks into his tenure, O’Brien was tasked with establishing credibility with a hopeful, but unsteady and unsure (in some quarters, quite skeptical) NIttany Nation, beginning the process of injecting enthusiasm and drumming up support for his football program, comforting a reeling and grieving community, and paying proper respect to the event and its purpose. His success here was a sign of things to come.

    O’Brien stayed for only a short time, but probably two of the most critical years in the history of the town and school. He is seen here passing one of his first (of many) tests, standing in the same spot as his legendary predecessor and praising the special qualities of Penn State in that direct and honest way that endeared him to so many of us so quickly.

    “What makes us special is the people, the people that understand we are part of something greater than just ourselves. We can make a difference in people’s lives. We can make a difference in the community.” —James Franklin

    If Bill O’Brien’s tenure represented the time of painful transition, the energy and optimism of James Franklin capture our hopes for a gradual return to normalcy, the true arrival of a new era. Looking back on O’Brien’s tumultuous two years, the memories all possess a hazy, dream-like quality. As I note the disconnected tone in many of his remarks since leaving, I wonder whether there’s not some of that for the coach himself. As if we all passed through a fiery disaster together and, having survived it, then went our separate ways and on with our lives. The community now faces the necessity, the challenge, and the excitement of accepting that the identity of Penn State football will become the purview of new arrivals. Franklin and his staff must make this program their own, but with the luxury of keeping the focus on the field. They will pick up and carry forward the banner for Old State, ingraining themselves and their personal styles indelibly into its history—as will Eric Barron, Sandy Barbour, David Gray, Nick Jones, whomever replaces Roger Williams at the PSAA, and an entirely new generation of Penn State leadership.

    We close with Franklin’s 2014 THON debut, the third speech from a third coach in five years, each representing the spirit of a moment. I hope it is the first of many for Franklin. I know it is just the latest in a long line that will march us ever further away from the living memory of Joe Paterno and that night in February 2009. The story goes on, and I hope you, like me, look forward to seeing what comes next.

  • A Penn State Love Story: Evan and Rebecca Valentine Pugh

    In The Legends of the Nittany Valley, a unique and fun mythology emerges for the places in and around Penn State, but our community also has its own real-life fairy tale: The story of the tragically short-lived love between Rebecca Valentine and Evan Pugh, the University’s founding president.

    Pugh is a truly remarkable figure. If it’s true that the strength and character of any institution are rooted in its founding, then an understanding of Evan Pugh can explain Penn State’s astonishing resilience over the last three years. His audacious vision for the school that would become the Pennsylvania State University, and the vigor with which he pursued it, are great stories of themselves. Equally captivating is the account of his courtship of Bellefonte’s Rebecca Valentine, a lasting love that not even death could conquer. Pugh died young, not long after marrying Rebecca, but she never took another husband, remaining forever faithful to the love of her life.

    I was excited to see the University release this video yesterday, summarizing the story of Evan and Rebecca in a format that can bring it to the Penn State family. It was especially satisfying to hear several quotes from Erwin Runkle, the first Penn State historian. In 2013, Nittany Valley Press released The Pennsylvania State College 1853-1932: Interpretation and Record, a never-published history of the school written by Runkle in the 1930s. As a contemporary of many key figures in Penn State’s early years, Runkle offers invaluable perspective on the people and events that shaped Old State in a formative era. His affection and story-teller’s instincts for the Penn State story come through in his quotes here.

    Watch the the short video, and learn about the tragic, but touching love story at the heart of Penn State’s origins.

  • 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.

  • Graduate School and the Value of Extended Time in the Nittany Valley

    “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

    I hear that same countdown every night, a few seconds before midnight, from my Beaver Avenue apartment, although its consistency makes it no less painful to digest. The commotion, of course, is coming from the line outside the local bar known for catering to belligerent 21st birthday crowds. Six short months ago, that would have been me in that line, watching juniors and seniors become initiated to the State College bar scene. But tonight, like most nights, I’m at my desk reading about the ancient legal code of Hammurabi of Babylon or the proper way to file a lawsuit against a foreign corporation.

    Such is the transient existence between undergraduate studies at Penn State, a decidedly impermanent condition for most, and immersion into a more established segment of the State College community. I’m talking, of course, about grad school.

    All told, somewhere between five and eight percent of my class at the Dickinson School of Law also holds an undergraduate degree from Penn State. We are, in many ways, the odd creatures in a heterogeneous class of 191, which represents 138 different institutions of higher education, 48 undergraduate majors, six countries, and 27 states (plus the Virgin Islands). By the time we graduate law school, my fellow Penn Staters and I will have spent at least seven years in the Nittany Valley, which will amount to something like 30 percent of our entire lives – and probably closer to half of the cognizant lives that we can actually remember. Other Penn State alumni-graduate students who are seeking Ph.Ds will spend upwards of 10 years here. The longest continuous student tenure that I’m aware of currently stands at 13 years, although I’m sure someone can beat that.

    When your time here stretches beyond those first few years spent learning the academic and social intricacies of college life, a change happens.  State College, which starts out as little more than a temporary way station on life’s journey, starts to feel more and more like a home unto itself.

    In any case, it’s a strange space to exist in, especially at first. Most undergraduates are content living between the comfortable rectangle created between where Atherton St. and University Dr. intersect with Park Ave. and Beaver Ave. (or Fairmount Ave. for the Greeks). To use a somewhat obnoxious law school term, this is the “nerve center” of the State College and Penn State experience, and few have a need to venture outside of that bubble (except, perhaps, to the DMV when the bar won’t accept your newly expired ID).

    Most people probably intuit that the transition from undergraduate to graduate school is easier for Penn Staters. After one semester of law school, I’m not so sure about that. With the temptations and libations that made the Penn State undergraduate experience so fulfilling nearby, coupled with the professional and intense academic expectations of grad school, it can make for a confusing recipe.

    While grad students may not be able to responsibly relive their “glory days” in the heart of the Valley (avoid driving by East Halls on a Friday night – trust me), I’ve found that grad school creates a unique civic space that can bring value to the community. Many grad students are homeowners in State College or its surrounding townships. Some have families and children in the school district. Most even know who the mayor is, which is actually a pretty high standard of knowledge for an undergrad. Issues like borough zoning ordinances and student healthcare policies often dominate the conversation at graduate student government meetings.

    For Penn Staters continuing their education in the graduate school, some measure of devotion to Penn State and the Nittany Valley is already inherent in the decision to stay. Few undergraduates don’t appreciate their University to begin with – Penn State’s 92 percent freshman retention rate is one of the best in the country, especially among public universities—but the number of students who stay for seven or more years is a testament to the magic of the place.

    Local government officials often cite a need to keep Penn State graduates in State College after graduation as a key to economic success and diversity. Most grad students are in the unique position of being both students and employees – teaching and graduate assistant stipends help bring money to the area that isn’t just a tuition check. Local entrepreneurial organizations like the New Leaf Initiative and InnoBlue help keep some Penn State graduates in town, but most young people cashing paychecks in State College are doing so with graduate student funding.

    I don’t expect the birthday bar countdowns outside my window to stop tugging at my heart and reviving cherished memories of Old State life any time soon. But living in the unique space between transient student and established resident provides new opportunities for learning and growth that other groups might never get to experience. The cliché used in far too many commencement addresses is the concept of Penn State always being considered a home to its graduates, although the speaker usually only means that in an emotional sense.   Further study at Penn State and extended immersion in our living-learning community beyond the undergraduate years offers valuable life lessons about coping with change, becoming part of a community and appreciating a sense of place.

    After five years, and with two more to go, it’s probably time to go get a State College driver’s license.

  • Joy of Christmas Spirits

    Today, it is not unusual to enter a bar and find a laundry list of exotic beers on tap or to hear news of a local brew pub or microbrewery opening up. Such was not the case in 1984 (only five years after the legalization of homebrewing) when the editor of the Centre Daily Times approached local lawyer Ben Novak about writing a bi-weekly beer column for the paper. The following excerpt appears in The Birth of the Craft Brew Revolution published by Nittany Valley Press, which collects those columns, the very first of their kind in the United States, and makes them available for the first time since their original publication. They harken back to a time when only a small American subculture had discovered the endless, delicious possibilities of good beer.

    By Ben Novak

    There are some folks who say that Christmas is not what Christmas once was.

    In the ancient days, a story was once passed through England that a savior had been born to redeem this dull and work filled world. We do not know whether all who heard believed the story. But we do know that just about everyone who heard it believed the very story itself to be a sufficient cause for joy and celebration.

    Thus it is recorded that Christmas was “celebrated from early ages with feasting and hearty, boisterous merriment.” To raise up the lowest spirits to the joy of the occasion in the bleakest month of winter, special Christmas ales were brewed. The joy of the Christmas story and the warmth of a Christmas ale were welcomed at every Yule-time hearth. The poet Marmion caught the spirit in his verse:

    England was merry England then,
    Old Christmas brought his sports again
    ‘Twas Christmas broaches the mightiest ale
    ‘Twas Christmas told the merriest tale
    A Christmas gambol oft would cheer
    A poor man’s hearth through half the year.

    The Wassail Bowl is best known to be associated with Christmas cheer. In ancient times the chief ingredients of Wassail were strong beer, sugar, spices and roasted apples. The following is a recipe for Wassail served in 1732 at Jesus College, Oxford as transcribed by the venerable Bickerdyke:

    “Into the bowl is first placed half a pound of Lisbon sugar, on which is poured one pint of warm beer, a little nutmeg and ginger are then grated over the mixture, and four glasses of sherry and five pints of beer are added to it. It is then stirred, sweetened to taste and allowed to stand covered for two to three hours. Three or four slices of thin toast are then floated on the creaming mixture, and the Wassail bowl is ready.” In another recipe this mixture is made hot, but boil boiling, and is poured over roasted apples laid in the bowl.

    Such a recipe must have been the inspiration for the following old carol which celebrates our theme:

    Come help us to raise
    Loud songs to the praise
    Of good old England’s pleasures
    To the Christmas cheer
    And the foaming Beer
    And the buttery’s solid treasures.

    Merry olde England did not become merry on lagered beer nor even on the standard ales of today. Special holiday beers and Christmas ales were deep and manly draughts. So do not attempt to try the recipe above with Miller, Bud, or even Twelve Horse. To revive the Wassail and the joy of Christmas past, the ancient ales and beers must be rediscovered.

    In the 19th century and up until Prohibition most of the 1500 breweries of America annually produced special Christmas and holiday ales and beers. The 14 years of Prohibition not only wiped out half of America’s breweries, but also all but one or two of its holiday brews.

    Special Christmas Brews

    The times, however are catching up to the past. The brewing of Christmas ales and beers is once again spreading across the land. In 1974, the Anchor Brewing Company introduced the first new Christmas Ale in America since 1939. Every year since then Anchor has brewed a new and different Christmas Ale to cheer the hearts of San Franciscans. Nearer to home, the Fred Koch Brewery of Dankirk, NY brews a delighted “Holiday Beer.” It is lighter than many Christmas ales, but deeper and fuller bodied than ordinary ales. This Holiday Beer is available at some Centre County distributors and restaurants.

    Not much farther away but not yet available in Pennsylvania in Newman’s Winter Ale, specially brewed for the holidays in Albany, NY.

    Special Christmas imported beers are available in most large cities. They include Noche Buena from Mexico, and Aass Jule ol (pronounced Arse Yule Ale) from Norway. Noche Buena is brewed by Austrian immigrants who modeled it after the holiday brews of Imperial Vienna. It has been described as one of the best examples of “Teutonic nostalgia” for the colorful beers of the 19th century. It is a dark brown malty brew with a great blend of imported hops. Aass Jule ol is not really an ale’ the word “ol” means beer in Norwegian. It has a dark, rich, malty flavor which seems to have the power to redeem the darkest day in December.

    Across the country, microbrewers and regional brewers have been bringing out special Christmas brews which are not widely distributed. In Minnesota, August Schell makes an amber beer with deep taste which it calls “Xmas Beer.” In Wisconsin, the Walter Brewing Co. of Eau Claire has been making a dark “Holiday Beer” since the 1880’s. Walters also continues to market another brand called “Lithia Christmas Beer.” In Colorado, the Boulder Brewing Co. began brewing a special Christmas Ale in 1979. It is a strong, dark ale flavored with fresh ginger root. Michael Lawrence, the brewmaster at Boulder, merrily informs us that “It is modeled after the mulled ales of 17th and 18th century England.

    The West Coast, however has the largest number of Christmas Ales. In addition to Anchor of San Francisco, the award winning Yakima Brewing Co. of Washington State makes an annual holiday mulled ale of honey and spices which is described as Wassail. It is “Grant’s Christmas Ale” which has a 6 percent to 7 percent alcohol content. Farther south the Sierra Nevada brewery of Chico makes “Celebration Ale” for the holidays. It has been described as a “classic winter ale in the English tradition.”

    Thus with the rediscovery in America of Christmas ales and holiday beers there is some small reason to hope that Christmas may once again be celebrated as Christmas once was. Just as on that first Christmas night the breath of the humblest stable animals warmed the crib of the child who came to bring joy to the world, so special Christmas ales and beers have traditionally been brewed to warm us to the joy of that blessed story.

    Ein Prosit der Gemutlichkeit!

  • Why Mount Nittany is on Every Penn Stater’s Bucket List

    Why Mount Nittany is on Every Penn Stater’s Bucket List

    I wrote the following for Onward State in The Magic of Mount Nittany to introduce The Story of Mount Nittany and to speak to why Mount Nittany tends to be on every Penn Stater’s bucket list:

    In “The Legends of the Nittany Valley,” folklorist Henry Shoemaker records some of the American Indian and settler stories that provide much of the cultural and historical basis for Penn State mythology, including Mount Nittany as our sacred symbol and pristine retreat, the love story of Princess Nittany and Lion’s Paw, and even the reclusive Nittany Lion.

    Yet stories alone have no independent life to speak of; their significance grows from the affection, tenderness, and patience of the reader, from the moments spent in solitude or near friends with the words of a long-dead peer over a coffee at Saints or W.C. Clarke’s. Herodotus or Dante would be nothing without the gift of time and attention paid in gratitude by the living reader. It’s through that gift that we reverence something culturally significant, and make something from the past a part of our present time.

    This is what tradition is, if distilled—the continuing act of encountering the past, helping it come alive again in some way, and then in due course becoming a part of the past ourselves as we look to the future. This beautiful notion is encapsulated in an even more beautiful practical, example: The singing of Robert Burns’s 1788 “Auld Lang Syne” every New Year’s Eve. It’s a literal and lyrical Scottish injunction to remember our friendships and honor days gone by on the eve of a new time.

    This helps explain why Mount Nittany, by all accounts an ordinary Pennsylvania mountain, is nonetheless sacred for Penn Staters and the people of the valley. As with the stories of the past, we’ve infused the Mountain with a distinctive meaning. Penn State Professor Simon Bronner writes that we “inspirit the land” of Mount Nittany and places like it. We do this in a thousand distinct ways, through hikes alone to learning and sharing the same stories to nights spent with friends around a small fire.

    The Mount Nittany Conservancy is what makes our experience of the Mountain possible—specifically what makes our experience of it as a natural space, protected from development, a perpetual part of the Nittany Valley experience. Even if you’ve never heard of Henry Shoemaker, and aren’t inclined to pick up his stories, the Mount Nittany Conservancy has made it possible to encounter a bit of the legend, mythology, and history of the Mountain through “The Story of Mount Nittany” and “Mount Nittany in Legend and Myth.” “Mount Nittany in Legend and Myth” is a digestible seven minutes and is concerned with origins:

    “The Story of Mount Nittany,” meanwhile, is a meditative 40-minute encounter with the reason the origin stories matter. In it, we hear from the people who conserve the Mountain for all to enjoy, from personalities as varied as Nittany Lion’s letterman Bob Andronici and student-volunteers combating erosion, to trailblazer Tom Smyth recounting decades of history (at 13:30), to Vince Verbeke’s “wayfinding stations” (18:21), to Penn State Arboretum director Kim Steiner’s insight on Mountain forestry (21:25), to Mount Nittany Conservancy founder Ben Novak’s experience of the “ordinary” Mountain (24:04), vision for land acquisition (28:08), and creation of square-inch deeds (31:55), to Bob Frick’s experience with less-preserved mountains (25:30), to Ben Bronstein’s historical markers (26:15), to Sue Paterno’s reflection on the Mountain (32:37) and Coach Joe Paterno’s affection for Mount Nittany as one on the Mount Nittany Conservancy’s inaugural board. Bob Frick, a Mount Nittany Conservancy board member, served as the executive producer of these great stories, which were co-produced with WPSU’s Katie O’Toole and Patty Satalia.

    Nearly a century before many of us were born, Henry Shoemaker declared: “There is no spot of ground a hundred feet square in the Pennsylvania mountains that has not its legend. Some are old, as ancient as the old, old forests. Others are of recent making or in formation now. Each is different, each is full of its own local color.”

    Mount Nittany is one of those Pennsylvania mountains, and the Nittany Valley remains a place where legends continue to take shape. Thanks to Henry Shoemaker’s stories, and the Mount Nittany Conservancy’s stories, you can get a better sense for why the Mountain matters and why hiking it is such a special experience.

    “Hiking Mount Nittany” is one of those things that finds its way onto the Penn State bucket lists of most students, and it’s something many make a ritual pleasure. A single hike often serves as an occasion for encounter with “local color” of the Mountain and the valley, a color which has a radiance that outlasts every autumn.

  • 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.

  • Women’s Sports at Penn State: A Story Worth Celebrating

    In the September issue of Town&Gown, celebrating 50 years of women’s sport at Penn State, there appears a profile of Penn State’s leadership in the age of Title IX. Taken in conjunction with Penn State sports historian Lou Prato’s article on the formative years preceding the law’s passage in 1972, it illuminates a legacy of forward-thinking leadership on one of the defining issues of the late 20th century—women’s equality.

    Penn State’s record on women’s athletics, in its entirety, has got to be among the most consistently impressive of any institution in the nation. Dedicated, dynamic personalities, working within the right conditions, yielded a culture of commitment to opportunity and excellence that continues to bear fruit today.

    For the 2013-14 academic year, Penn State finished fifth among all Division I institutions in the Learfield Sports Directors’ Cup standings, the highest ranking for a Big Ten school, and PSU’s best finish since placing third in 2008.

    Since 1993, the Directors’ Cup (some old-heads may remember it as the Sears Cup) has been awarded annually by the National Association of Collegiate Directors of Athletics (NACDA) and USA Today to recognize “institutions maintaining a broad-based program, achieving success in many sports, both men’s and women’s.” Director’s Cup rankings are the sort of thing noted only by athletics administrators and the hardest of the die-hard college alumni and sports fans. They also represent perhaps the best metric for measuring excellence in pursuit of the student-athlete ideal, such as it exists in this age.

    Schools are scored based on the performance of both men’s and women’s teams, with up to 10 of the best performing squads in each category contributing to the final tally. That’s where things get interesting. Penn State fields a total of 31 varsity programs, placing the Lions second in the Big Ten behind Ohio State’s nationally-leading 37. Among this year’s Director’s Cup top 10, PSU trails only perennial champ Stanford’s 36 total programs. The next closest top 10 institution, Virginia, fields 23 varsity sports. Several others offer even fewer, fellow 2013-14 standouts like Texas (18), Florida (17) and Texas A&M (16).

    The takeaway? Penn State blends a rare commitment to opportunity and excellence and succeeds in both. While many universities prioritize wins and national championships, and some place emphasis on offering a range of competitive opportunities, only an elite few excel in both areas. PSU offers more athletic/academic openings than almost any school in the country and, even while spreading resources across so many programs, succeeds at the highest level. Over the last five years, Penn State leads the Big Ten with an average final Director’s Cup finish of 9th in the nation.

    “I knew that Penn State had a commitment to women’s sports because of the sheer number of women’s sports that were being provided,” says Charmelle Green, Penn State’s Associate Athletic Director and Senior Woman Administrator, who came to Happy Valley from Notre Dame, another 2013-14 top finisher.

    “We are a broad-based program, and there aren’t many broad-based programs in the country. We value our broad-based programming. We value the opportunities for young people to come to Penn State to get a great education and pursue national championships.”

    Of course, the massive revenue generated by Penn State football, which supports the athletic department’s self-sustaining funding model, helps make it all happen.

    “Our naysayers would argue, ‘It’s not your philosophy; it’s your money,’” says Dr. Scott Kretchmar, Penn State Professor of Exercise and Sport Science. “Without the money, it would be impossible to run the program that we do. But it’s also possible, with the money, not to run the program we do.”

    Kretchmar contrasts the broad-based offerings of Big Ten powers PSU and Ohio State with those at the University of Texas, one of the nation’s wealthiest athletics programs while also fielding among the fewest teams. “Their philosophy is different. They have plenty of money to have (more) sports, like Penn State does. But they have chosen to try to win championships in a smaller cluster of sports. They have come out publicly and said that.”

    What Kretchmar describes as, “Taj Mahal, all the way” – more money for facilities, coaching salaries, recruiting budgets, and amenities for each squad – also results in fewer chances for individual student-athletes. One can certainly argue that facilitating greater opportunities for participation, rather than better-funded pursuit of national titles, more closely aligns with the NCAA’s concept of amateurism. At Penn State, the genuine commitment to doing both is rooted in the culture of the institution, one established and refreshed by the people Town&Gown recognizes this month.

    Barbara Doran, now a University trustee, in the early 1970’s was one of the first female recipients of a Penn State athletic scholarship, a three-sport athlete fighting for recognition and respect. In 2012, she recalled to Lacrosse Magazine, “In those days, we had seven or eight games a season, no championships, no statistics, no awards. The field hockey and lacrosse teams still shared the same coach and uniforms, and if you couldn’t get the right sized kilt, you just pinned it so it didn’t fall off.” She would go to play for Team USA.

    Doran recounts her senior-year collaboration with Intercollegiate Athletics employee Mary Jo Haverbeck, a trailblazer in media coverage of women’s sports, “to start, from scratch, the first woman’s sports information effort in the country – keeping stats, writing press releases on the players and doing brochures for games.”  Remembering these people and their contributions is critical to a complete understanding our narrative, our sense of who we are.

    “What’s great about the Penn State Community is that we have many members who were a part of those early years still living in State College,” says Charmelle Green. “I have welcomed and embraced the opportunity to learn from them. Marty Adams, the late Ellen Perry, Sue Scheetz, very much the late Della Durant, were welcoming and supportive of my desire to learn. They have shared with me their stories, their challenges, as well as the successes that have occurred throughout the years. I have grown an appreciation for all the hard work that was done in early years to allow people like myself to come in and continue the legacy of success that that is synonymous with our athletics program.”

    Erwin Runkle, the University’s first historian, observed in the 1930s that while “always in the general stream of college life, Penn State has nevertheless had a ‘way of her own.’” The unfolding saga of women’s athletics at Old State affirms this notion in the very best way.

    As we continue to sort through the events of our recent past and reconcile them within the broader context of our on-going story, we do a disservice to ourselves—and those who preceded us—to lose perspective on the full spectrum of this “Penn State Way,” the voluminous good that makes the Nittany Valley and its people worth celebrating.

  • Happy Valley’s Magical Magnetism

    You can already sense it here in the Valley. Before you know it, tens of thousands of students will make their way back to Penn State for another academic year. Soon after, tens of thousands more fans, alumni, and friends will follow them for seven Autumn weekends, many who are drawn back to a place they never managed to fully leave behind. It is one of my favorite times of year, when the cycle that keeps this place vibrant and dynamic begins anew. Our August Town & Gown contribution features an excerpt from The Legends of the Nittany Valley that speculates on the magical origins of the seemingly mystical force that draws us back here again and again.

    No matter how mystical or supernatural it seems, this legend offers a telling and satisfying explanation for one of the most striking and oft-remarked phenomena of the Nittany Valley. Almost everyone who lives here for any length of time seems to have an irresistible desire to return as often as possible. Is there something in the water, or in the breezes that come down from the surrounding mountains, that keeps us coming back—or at least longing to come back? There seems to be an attractive power in the mountains and valleys of this region that calls us.

    The next time you, or anyone who has once been in the Nittany Valley, suddenly feels a strong urge to go back to Penn State or to any of the areas that were once part of Wi-Daagh’s kingdom, just smile and remember this legend, and you will immediately understand why the feeling seems so irresistible…

    You will have to head over to Town & Gown’s site to read the full story of King Wi-Daagh’s spell. Most of us know someone who has remarked on the uncanny magnetism of Penn State and State College; many have experienced this phenomenon first-hand. It is fun to have our own local myth to explain its roots. There is another element to Wi-Daagh’s story in particular that I wanted to highlight here.

    Although the story of his spell lingering even from beyond the grave may be pure fantasy, the grave site of King Wi-Daagh (pronounced “wye-dog”) is very real. Wi-Daagh, unlike some other figures of local legend, actually existed. He was, in fact, an American Indian chieftain who held dominion over much of modern-day Central Pennsylvania, and he did fall prey to English settlers offering one of their notoriously lop-sided real estate deals.

    Wi-Daagh’s burial site is marked by a 41′ column and rough-hewn headstone. It is located on what is now private land, and the encroaching wilderness has reclaimed much of the ground. Nevertheless, the column and marker remain, monuments to one of the last great Pennsylvania Indian leaders. I am including a gallery of photographs of his tombstone and memorial column, taken with the property owner’s permission. I share all this to add more flavor to the tale of King Wi-Daagh and his mystical spell and to reinforce the notion that this mythology is uniquely ours, rooted as it is within the very places we inhabit.