by ELMO E. SHAVER, member Language and Literature Division,
Orange Coast College, since 1948

"What mankind needs is a teacher who knows what he's talking about." — Camus

THERE IS CERTAINLY no need to erect a monument or to compose a tribute to Basil H. Peterson. It has been wisely observed that the institution is the lengthened shadow of one man. In the case of Orange Coast College our founding President has cast a very long shadow, and anyone who glances about even casually could hardly miss the monument—the college itself and the thousands whose lives have found fulfillment and sometimes new directions on these acres. It has long seemed to me that Dr. Peterson's career here is a contemporary example of the truth expressed long ago by Saint Augustine: "Faith is to believe what we cannot see, and the reward of this faith is to see what we believe." Our college existed first as a conviction and a philosophy about the education of young people in these mid-century decades, and Dr. Peterson and those who have worked with him are enjoying the experience now of seeing the tangible evidence of what was originally nearer to faith than to fact.

It would be a very satisfying indulgence of private ego to assert blandly that from the very moment I stepped onto the Orange Coast College campus late in August of 1948 I sensed in those bleak acres the promise of future greatness. But I believe we may establish a worthier monument to junior college history by rehearsing fact, rather than vaguely glamorous fiction. And should my characterizations of notable faculty members seem blunt and tactless, rest assured that all of them are quite tall enough to survive the slings and arrows of my unexpurgated recollections.

Via a Chicago placement service, I was casting about in 194748 for means of escaping the rigors of St. Louis winters. For three years T had been happily occupied instructing classes in French and Spanish at The Principia, a most remarkable private denominational college in the Missouri metropolis, but I remained a Californian temporarily in midwestern exile, and by February of 1948 I was eager to join what was soon to be called the California population explosion. So when an invitation came from a Dr. Basil H. Peterson to meet him in Kansas City at 10 p.m. in the Hotel President, I did not hesitate to make the hour's flight between St. Louis and Kansas City one late Friday afternoon. The midwest at this moment was having an unusually violent orgy of merciless winter weather, and the prospect of discussing transplantation to California was most heart and body warming. The American Association of Junior Colleges was holding its annual convention in Kansas City, and this explains Dr. Peterson's presence there. He is a loyal Californian, and l doubt whether any incentive would make him abandon this privileged status. Soon after this convention, Dr. Peterson was elected president of the national organization, but certainly I could not have known then that I was about to encounter greatness in the person of the President of the newly established Orange Coast College in Costa Mesa. I presume the reason why our appointment was so late was that the day had been filled with convention meetings and he had been interviewing other candidates on this rapid midwestern tour. When I entered Dr. Peterson's room on that night of February 27, 1948, I was meeting the very first in a long series of Orange Coast College administrators, instructors, and students — a goodly company who over the years would enrich my life beyond anything I could have foreseen. It was with no small trepidation that this still youthful prospective language instructor was ushered into the presidential presence. At this point, I should like to appeal to my diary. For most of the decades in my life (or more specifically, since I was fifteen years old) I have been a faithful keeper-of-a-diary, and my entry for this day in Kansas City will reveal more than any present reminiscence.

"Arriving at 7 p.m. I found Kansas City cold and windy. Promptly at ten I went to Dr. Peterson's room. He is long, lean, sincere, and rather humorless but his frankness inspires confidence. We both agreed to think over the possibility of my joining his new college faculty. I feel I can have the job if I want it."

If I found BHP "humorless," it can only be because the new President took his business with great seriousness and was exercising utmost caution and care in the selection of faculty. Later we were to learn that the new administration had processed approximately 900 individual applications before completing the final selection of the first year's faculty of thirty members. If I had known this at the time of my interview, 1 probably should have turned and fled back to St. Louis and a safe distance from such strenuous lists.

At this season in the development of junior colleges over America, much attention was being given to the emerging concept of "guidance." "General education" was being widely recognized as the most suitable, ideal for mass education, particularly in the secondary and collegiate level, and "guidance" was gaining wide acceptance as an inseparable part of this broader philosophy. So one of the few questions Dr. Peterson asked was: "What is your attitude toward guidance My most truthful answer would have been probably: "I've never heard of it." At Principia we're very traditional and claim that this is a "Child-centered school." (In the twenties and the thirties that little formula had been a popular educational shibboleth. ) But I was eager to go to California, so I quickly came up with what was probably an acceptable answer: "Well, I don't really see much point or worth in education without it." BHP nodded approval, so I had passed one hurdle. Then followed a few questions of a more personal nature: "Are you married?" "Alas," said I hypocritically, "I do not yet possess that blessed state." "Well," he said, "do you have any hopes or prospects?" Here again a trip to California might be worth a bit of hedging, much as in the manner of that great Frenchman, Henri IV, who deemed Paris worth a mass. So I professed the appropriate hopefulness and the conversation went on into matters of educational philosophy. I had to admit l couldn't teach German. "How about English?" Surely l could help out with an English course if I were needed. My answer was that specialized skills were involved which were different from those required in foreign language teaching. Had I talked myself out of a job? We parted without committal on either side.

The first ricochet of this fateful rendezvous in the shadow of Harry Truman's provincial capital came a few days later in a letter in which BHP requested me to have my administrator write a letter of recommendation for me. As luck or unprofessional ethics would have it, the administrator in question was one of my closest friends and already had been in on every move so far. I showed him the request for a letter and he asked, "Well, what shall I say?" I told him to try to exercise a discreet moderation in his enthusiasm for my qualifications, lest suspicion arise that someone was trying to dump someone. "Well, then, why not write the letter yourself and I'll sign it," he suggested. This indeed seemed a practical course to take, so I composed a letter in which I modestly expressed regret at losing so cooperative and competent a teacher but added of course that I would not stand in the way of his progress. I think it was not a bad letter, as such letters go, and when this is read by Dr. Peterson it will be the first time "le crime de Mosieur Shaver" has ever been disclosed to him. At any rate I received the appointment.

When I learned in April of 1948 that my future teaching assignment was to be with the new Orange Coast College, I was too far away to inspect the new reservation, so my mother, who lived in Long Beach, drove down one spring day to spy out the land. Her report was cryptic: "It doesn't look like much now, but perhaps something can be made of it." I arrived there late that summer and lost no time driving down immediately from Long Beach to see the college that was being born. Being a bit unfamiliar with the local geography, I knew no shorter way than to arrive via Garden Grove and finally found myself on Harbor Boulevard. But it was very difficult to make out just where OCC lay, and I was obliged to scout about and make several false turns to get there. The administration building was even then essentially what it is now. The President's office was approximately where the present evening college office is now located. It was reassuring to meet Dr. Peterson for the second time and to begin to share his unconcealed zest for the task at hand. I think that I enjoyed on this August after noon a privilege that it has not been possible for him to accord to many new faculty members. He gave me a personally escorted tour of the buildings which had been already revamped and prepared for collegiate use. With a desire to accentuate the positive, I commented only on the less dreary aspects of the physical facilities, but Dr. Peterson was always ready with a prediction of how much better would be the modern constructions, which, he was confident, would soon replace these temporary wartime "rabbit hutches." I learned that a tax election was in the offing for the first winter, in which the local electorate was expected to authorize a special levy to begin a seven year pay-as-you-go building program.

On this same late summer pre-school visit I was introduced to vice-president James W. Thornton. It would be easy retrospectively to claim that upon first acquaintance I sensed the brilliance and extraordinary ability of the Number Two Administrator, but I have never enjoyed such perceptive gifts. He was affable, but reserved. He was of a somewhat scientific turn of mind, carefully trained in educational administration and the use of statistical skills, and l think he was simply waiting and watching to find out who was to be who. In the decade that he served Orange Coast College as Vice-President, he made a deep impression on everyone and certainly left an ineradicable mark upon the institution. This of course is not the same as to say that everyone loved him, but it would be safe to assert that everyone appreciated his unique talents and abilities. With many Jim was an acquired taste, and I was to come to feel real fondness for him only with the passing of years. He revealed himself most interestingly through his personal idiosyncrasies. He had a gift for phrase-making, a rather staccato manner of speaking and tone of voice, and when under pressure or slightly irritated, this staccato rose to andante con brio e fuoco. He was seldom stumped on a professional problem or at a loss for devastating repartee when the occasion seemed to require it. Among his most valuable personal assets was a thorough background in the classics and humanities, and this included a lively interest in Italian civilization, language, and literature.

This last area of interest became of a very practical use some years later when a remarkable series of evening lectures was organized under the title of "Masterworks of Literature." Miss Mary McChesney, who has had a lifelong interest in world literature was the guiding, guardian angel of this course, which featured a number of instructors in lectures within the fields of their special interests. We had, for example, one lecture on Spain's great classic, Don Quixote, which has always been Miss McChesney's great love, a two hour lecture on Voltaire and his works (my own offering), and one of the best, Manzoni's great classic of Italian romanticism, I Promessi Sposi given by Dr. Thornton himself and with generous excerpts read to us in Italian! I venture the assertion that not many school administrators have such breadth of culture on which to draw. It seems to me now that this was an especially rich period in our history—a time when the air was almost heady with intellectual and cultural stimulus. We did have definitely some "giants in the earth'' who raised up a standard of excellence which I fondly believe became an unmistakable hallmark in our youthful college.

At the first faculty meeting the President of the Student Body, Frank Hruza, was among those introduced. Frank had been elected the previous spring from among local high school graduates who intended to enroll in the fall at the new college. This was done in order that the foundations of student government would be laid and ready for full development at the beginning of our first semester. With so small a faculty, it was not difficult for Dr. Peterson to introduce everyone individually, and each one even had time to summarize his summer activities and announce his teaching field. Although few of us were known to one another upon our arrival, within a day or two of the first week of meetings we speedily became acquainted. Dr. Peterson has always been a firm believer in the importance of earnest and numerous faculty meetings, and even though Labor Day fell within this week our own labor was cut out for us already. We had meetings as usual on the holiday itself!

One important address that first morning was given by Vice-President Thornton. His well-chosen remarks enabled us all to begin to take his measure, as he had already taken ours. His classicism showed from the first, for he began with a kind of text chosen from the poetry of Vergil: "Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit." To make sure everyone got the point, he offered a translation: "And someday, this too may be pleasant to remember." How often in the years since then have I recalled his text and thought, "How true!" But toward the end of the address he lapsed into idiom that he knew no one could miss: "We've got a good thing here. Let's not louse it up." This became a kind of household word with the faculty and for years afterward it would occasionally bob up to restrain us when intra-mural political strife was threatening to "louse it up." Dr. Thornton in these first months seemed always to be ready with quotations. He closed a faculty meeting, I think during the first semester, with a Pauline quotation from the Epistles—and in Latin! With a bit of malice, I am sure, after his elegant Latinism, he turned to me and asked suddenly if I would supply the English. By an unbelievable coincident [ had just been reading the same thing an hour or two earlier, so the English happened to be fresh in my memory: "I have fought a good fight, 1 have finished the course, I have kept the faith." My own background in Latin is so tenuous that it's a minor mystery how 1 recognized his quotation, but I did recognize it, provided the translation, passed his test, so to speak, and a few weeks later was reappointed for a second year.

Another speaker at this opening faculty meeting WITS the Assistant Superintendent in charge of business affairs, Mr. William Kimes. Apparently not sensitive enough to the historical nature of this meeting, I skipped details in my diary of that day, but something there must have been about Mr. Kimes' inaugural address to the faculty that impressed me, for I find this entry: "Mr. Kimes, the Assistant Superintendent, spoke long but well." I do recall, however, that even in his "maiden speech" before us, Mr. Kimes had hit upon a style of address for such occasions that he has maintained right down to the present, and I think I have never known him to fall out of character. This style or manner is mostly compounded of aggressive acerbity, disdain of petty detractors, and I dare-you-to-get-around-this-one attitude. At first we were all a bit taken aback by this apparent truculence, but "Bill" is that rarest of combinations, a businessman-academician who keeps his quality year after year. The gist of this opening address was that faculty should ask for as little as possible because the budget was tight and if someone thought he absolutely had to have an item, come to him to hear a categorical "no", and if still unsatisfied, go listen to Dr. Peterson say the same thing. This has been more or less Bill's Leitmotif for unnumbered faculty meetings, but 1 actually believe he improves his performance in each delivery, much as an actor polishes his interpretation of a role through a long run.

Having mentioned the beginning of Kimes' career as a faculty orator, it may be of interest to record one of his latest triumphs. At the February 1964 faculty meeting, which was the first one to be presided over by OCC's second President, Dr. Norman Watson, our Assistant Superintendent in charge of business matters was predicting how our new President would have to dispense budgetary justice among many conflicting and rival demands from faculty. Here Bill came forth with one of his most brilliant neologisms: "Dr. Watson has only to make up his mind which one of all of you he would prefer to 'enemize' the most." I offer this as one of the most characteristic examples of Bill's pregnant verbal inventiveness.

Of Dr. Peterson's inaugural remarks I seem to retain more the substance than the text. He predicted a great future for Orange Coast College in numerical growth as well as in excellence in providing general education for the rapidly growing population of Orange County; he reiterated our philosophy as a college—that we were there to provide a meaningful educational experience for all members of the community able and willing to benefit from our offerings, and he expressed what may be considered a key to his own practice as a supervisor and administrator in the words, "The most important responsibility we have is what goes on in the classroom.'' This was not to rule out other phases of college endeavor but was rather to help us keep a reasonable perspective. This idea was repeated in later years to new members coming to our faculty, and I think it has born abundant fruitage. He also made the statement that he considered this faculty the best junior college faculty in the country. At the time, I wondered whether this might not be an exaggeration, but although a slow learner, I eventually came to believe there might be considerable validity in the claim. After all, Dr. Peterson was intimately acquainted with the history and background of all his recruits. It was probably not at this first meeting but certainly not long after that he coined one of his best trade bons mots : "If the class hasn't learned you haven't taught." This was probably loosed upon us somewhat as an educational gadfly, but of course there are always those whom FDR charmingly called the hlnatic fringe and these made the mistake of taking the dictum too literally. While rehearsing bon mots I think another one from Thornton deserves to be embalmed in this record: "The greatest single weakness of most classroom teaching is aimlessness." This was destined to be repeated for us from time to time, but after all, as Plato is alleged to have said, "The world needs more to be reminded than informed."

Other presentations that first day were made by Mr. Fred Huber, who had the title of Dean of Men, and his colleague, Mrs. Marie Howes, Dean of Women. Fred served the first year also as chairman of the Division of Language and Literature. After all, how could he have filled in all his time just in the deanery! He had a surprising breadth of interests, which included not only such robust activities as usually go with a Dean's life, but he was also interested in poetry. Fred had even written a Master's thesis on the poetry of Alice Maynell, and on occasions delivered special lectures on that lady. He was young for the job of Dean, but those first years were strenuous enough to require more of a Hercules than a Priam. His manner was bouncy, and someone once compared him to a St. Bernard. (Incidentally, the football team's first mascot was a dog of the same race.) It is no particular secret, I believe, that Dr. Peterson's rebuke can be fearsome, to borrow a phrase once applied to another great teacher, and if this fearsomeness was occasionally vented upon Fred, our Dean would simply respond "Yes, sir!" with just the suggestion of a military salute. Fred had been a major in World War 1I. After serving his apprenticeship at O.C.C., Fred went on to glory, the president of a college, and later a district superintendent as well.

Mrs. Howes is harder to characterize than Dean Huber, but her long years of service bear their own testimony to her merits and graces. She has always insisted on rigid adherence to ideals and standards, and this alone should be a passport to immortality. She can display a puckish wit on occasion, and for years she would greet me in September with some such remark as: "Now professor, whom do you think you are fooling? We have a pretty good idea of why you go to Paris every summer!" Not until the summer of 1963 did Madame Howes and I actually meet in Paris, and I hope she was not too disappointed in my manner of summer holidaying. It is worth noting, I think, that Mrs. Howes came to us from the Dean of Women's staff at U.C.L.A. Dr. Peterson had raided some rather heavy citadels of talent for his own battlements.

Another notable who was destined to give years of service at Orange Coast College was Giles T. Brown. He was a freshly hatched PhD. from Claremont College and had been chosen to head the Social Science Division. He was to prove an outstanding teacher, organizer, and a particularly deft dealer in public relations, for when he began his night school series of public affairs lectures or forums, it became one of the most popular offerings of its type in the whole county. Giles has a magnificent sense of humor, can run a public forum of adults with an expert timing and a light touch worthy of Jack Benny, and he can cover up adroitly against questions designed either to arouse bootless controversy or expose gaps in his own considerable fund of general knowledge. He soon became one of my firmest faculty friends and has remained so despite his defection and removal several years ago to Orange State College. We are indebted to him and to our first Librarian, Miss Beth Cosner, for our first faculty romance. This got under way the very first year—probably over a hefty reference volume, and by the fourth year of OCC we were treated to a campus wedding in the old chapel which the army had used during its tenure of our acres. As an usher at this event I overheard one of the principals comment that Dr. Peterson considered having the ceremony in the college chapel splendid public relations!

When Giles departed from our midst, Dr. Peterson is said to have remonstrated with him in the words, "I could not be more surprised if you were to announce a change of religion." Among his many community activities, Giles has taught an adult Sunday School class for many years in the First Baptist Church of Santa Ana. We used to have many a private discussion about that—but the details remain classified to this day.

Another "Giant in the Earth" of those days was Vernon Patterson, destined to be my office mate for the next twelve years. I think this is probably a record at Orange Coast College. Pat was appointed Chairman of the Division of Language and Literature in our third year, and served with great distinction in the post. He was a comparatively latecomer to teaching, having had a picturesque career already in the newspaper and literary world. The fact that he had published two novels attested the seriousness of his interest in writing, and eventually many of us read Wise as a Goose and All Giants Wear Yellow Breeches. I am proud to have autographed copies in my own library. With his background, it was inevitable that Pat should be put in charge of the college paper, The Barnacle. By his own admission, much of it had to be ghosted by the sponsor because our first student body contained so few budding journalists. But those first issues certainly had style and polish —thanks to the Ghost.

One of the most towering of the early faculty, in any way the word may be taken, was six-foot four Walter Prill, the first drama instructor. In choosing new faculty for O.C.C., Dr. Peterson had brought along from his previous post at Glendale College three men whose work he had admired: Don Bridgman, Fred Huber and Walter Prill. Prill also taught public speaking, was a third generation American of German ancestry, and was usually overwhelming. Strong freshmen were known sometimes nearly to faint from the emotional stress of a first public speech under Prill's glaring blue-eyed disapproval and the boom of his corrections. The Drama Department, if such it could be called, managed to stage that first year a play, The Night of January 16th. It may not have been brilliant, but at least it was a debut. Prill's love of the theatre had a better chance three years later when his students staged Moliere's Imaginary Invalid, an unforgettable performance. Orren Brooks, one of the most talented youths ever to enroll at O.C.C., played the dour hypocondraic, and Prill himself donned a black medieval gown and was terrifying as the medical practitioner. Orren Brooks was not destined to live many years afterward, but certainly those of us who knew him will always be grateful for the memory of himself and of Moliere as revealed through this remarkable young man's talent.

Walter Prill was not to remain for long in our halls of ivy. The presence of two students from Paris who were auditing classes on campus in the third year whetted his natural appetite for travel. I believe our very first foreign student would be recorded as one Stanley Smith, a likable young chap who shortly before had arrived from Scotland. But Roger Pantet and his delightful wife Christiane were the first foreign students from the Continent, although neither was formally enrolled. Walter and Eve Prill became friendly with the Pantets, and the following year, 1950-51 the Prills lived for a time in the Pantet's Paris apartment. Walter returned to our college, but not for long. With his impressive personal gifts he sought and found a very successful career in business as a professional public speaker and public relations representative for a major gas company. But his years with us mark the beginning of drama at Orange Coast.

Walter Prill was succeeded in his functions by a young man who was to become one of our campus' most picturesque personalities, Mr. Robert Kest. In many respects, Bob exemplified the very opposite qualities of Prill, for he early showed himself to be the essence of tact and gentleness, a collateral descendant of one of the greatest of Dutchmen, Rogier van der Weyden, the renowned fifteenth century painter (Flemish school). Kest himself related to me that upon being introduced to the outgoing Mr. Prill, this Olympian gentleman exclaimed with some show of disbelief: "And this is my replacement?'' Bob Kest did not preside over the fortunes of our college theatre for very long. He went into speech classes exclusively and found his replacement in Lucian Scott, with the later addition of John Ford.

Cyrus Rockey ought to have a chapter to himself on at least two counts. When our first year operation seemed financially unprepared to provide the equipment needed in his shop, Rockey himself out of pocket financed approximately $10,000 worth of shop material. How many examples of such dedication could be found in any educational institution? His other great uniqueness among us has been his gift for silence. While his colleagues have often babbled endlessly in faculty meetings, Cy has helped to advance the terminal point by refraining from speech. Once or twice this inclination has been thwarted by placing Rockey on some panel discussion, but he would usually get himself out of the snare by simply announcing, "I agree with my colleagues on this panel."

In that first semester I overheard one of our number comment on our august congregation thus: "Well, they're a pretty good faculty, but you can tell each one of them wants to be a prima donna." Cy was a notable exception. Many of us thought him a safe bachelor, but along came Miss Louise Thomas, a home economics teacher. He was getting lankier each year on a bachelor's cuisine. It is a pleasure to record that the later chapters of his career feature Rockey in the happy role of paterfamilias.

Among notable colleagues who date from our Year One and who remain with us in the year Sixteen and bid fair to tarry yet awhile is Mr. Charles Lewis, who for most of his OCC years has headed the Division of Science and Mathematics. I once overheard that our founding administrators in choosing faculty tried to foresee how their choices might look with an added decade or two of service. I think Charles must be counted one of their great triumphs in this field, for when one compares the first faculty photograph of September 1948 to current takes, it is amazing to see how this gentleman has preserved his youthful, boyish appearance. But this brings up another and, with me, sensitive topic. Dr. Peterson was well aware that he had in his midst several eligible bachelors, and he soon announced the formation of a special committee to get the bachelors married off. One by one these single pirates walked the plank into the sea of matrimony. At many a faculty meeting, Dr. Peterson would conclude proceedings with a deliberately light touch. Turning to Vernon Patterson he would ask, "Pat, can you give a report now on your committee to get the bachelors married?" Pat, who enjoys an opportunity for laughter, would offer something to sustain the gruesome joke. No doubt the Brown-Cosner wedding, held as we have seen in the chapel, was a real coup. Other marriages followed, depleting our bachelor ranks till only Charles and I were left unvanquished. And then, to the amazement of all, in 1963 Charles announced his double project: marriage and a six month honeymoon-one semester sabbatical trip around the world. I must confess it was with no little trepidation that l watched this stalwart yield, leaving me standing alone.

I would like to mention everyone who served OCC that first year, but forced to choose, I am narrowing the field to those who have remained among us. I think one may consider it a tribute to the quality of that first group that many other institutions stepped in and raided some of the talent which Dr. Peterson had assembled. Among others who have continued to serve faithfully are Dorothy Dallas, Charles Haley, Wendell Pickens, Miles Eaton, and Ray Rosso. (William O. Payne came on the staff during the first semester to fill the vacancy created by the resignation of our first art instructor. For this reason Bill has really earned the title of one of our "founding fathers." ) Mrs. Dallas is probably one of the best trainers of business girls in Southern California, for her products have achieved notable success in careers that started right under Dottie's uncompromising supervision.

Mr. Haley deserves a special niche as the original and continuous chairman of the Business Education Division. The first president of the Faculty Club was Donald Bridgman. Another "first" for Don was that he was the first faculty member to avail himself of sabbatical leave.

The Orange Coast Faculty Club was the ancestor of the present Orange Coast Faculty Association. The change in designation may not seem important, but actually the first title hints at the intimate friendly atmosphere that characterized our professional organization in the beginning. We realized of course that much of the charm and grace of our first years derived from our small enrollment and staff. I think one of our great achievements as an educational institution is that we still retain so large a share of the enthusiasm, espirit de corps, and school spirit which were the hallmarks of our youthful years. Students in our foundational years often seemed amazed at how generously individual faculty members would give of their time and effort to help a single student. This of course resulted in a magnificent school spirit that touched every phase of our total work. And although we cannot be doing quite the same with 5,000 students as we did with our first 500, I am convinced that the general rapport or morale among students and faculty is still outstanding in quality and explains any measure of greatness our college has achieved.

There were of course a few examples of colleagues who for one reason or another had to be summarily dropped. But to me the wonder is that the mortality rate was as minimal as it actually was. Anyone who has ever been even remotely connected with the administration of personnel matters knows that it is well-nigh impossible to look at a prospective employee, digest his references, and then make an infallible forecast about future performance, but I think part of the success of our college faculty may be attributed to an unusually perceptive process of selection and recruitment of personnel. Dr. Peterson particularly, though certainly no eccentric himself, has always understood that under a veneer of personal peculiarity there may be a first rate classroom performer, and to repeat his own dictum, "It's what takes place in the classroom that counts." He was ever alert to discover and identify expert classroom teaching, and many a faculty meeting, particularly the final one in June, would end with his sincere commendation of the work accomplished by the faculty in the preceding months or semester. It was no secret that he was a stern taskmaster but he was eager to reward merit when he found it. He would always go the second mile and more too to assist a confused or wayward student, a practice in accord with his junior college philosophy that student talents and potentials were our greatest assets and deserved salvaging at almost any cost. Concern for the individual student has been the guiding principle of our school.

Another notable "founder"—Ray Rosso—belongs especially to the early history of our football glories, so I leave him to the experts, and the experts, knowing my traditional noninvolvement in sports, must heartily approve my timidity in this field. Martha Buss, another founding faculty member, is currently on leave of absence, but as college nurse could contribute a volume of her own.

Although I have not been able to mention every individual who contributed importantly that first year, the omission of later joiners who have remained with us would be unpardonable. "We "founders" may be somewhat inclined to glory in our unique privilege, but right from the first recruitment continued and in the second year a young man, Eustace Rojas, brought sudden expansion to the foreign language and music program. Dr. Thornton considered "Ro" an outstanding, even brilliant instructor in Spanish, and hundreds of students in nearly two decades would agree with him. In the third year there came among several other joiners a young lass newly equipped with a junior college credential after work at the University of Minnesota and then Berkeley. Miss Mary McChesney had never taught before coming to OCC but in her case no experience was needed. With a zest for learning and a gift for communicating her own enthusiasm she speedily revealed herself as one of our college's greatest assets, and one of our most popular and effective teachers. There has been special satisfaction to the older teachers in welcoming as new recruits a number of former OCC students who did so well both here and in subsequent college work that they were invited to join our faculty. The first to do so was Dean Burchett, who makes his own contribution to this document in another chapter. David Grant, another of the students turned teacher has had an especially long association with OCC, for as an elementary youngster he was borrowed for a role in an early dramatic production on the college stage.

It would be graceless to fail for any reason to mention the long years of devoted service of the fourth in order of service of the chairmen of the Department of Literature and Languages. After Dean Huber's acting chairmanship the first year, Dr. Harvey Hall, the present Dean of Admissions at Stanford University, served as Division Chairman the second year, Mr. Vernon Patterson succeeded Hall, and after nearly a decade of labor in this semi-administrative position Pat asked to return to the classroom exclusively. The first year of our divisional work was shared by the quartet of Prill, Patterson, Shaver and Louise Dowlen. So when the rapidly expanding division began to cast about for Pat's successor, the members unanimously and spontaneously petitioned the College Trustees to appoint Louise Dowlen. Her first assignment had been as instructor of English and philosophy. At that time Miss Dowlen lived in Huntington Beach sharing a house with Miss Patricia Moore, our first home economics instructor. Miss Moore, after several markedly successful years on the faculty, met a new colleague, Kenneth Peterson, and romance ensued and they were married, moving to Monterey. While our numbers were small faculty-student sociability and faculty "intramural" sociability was possible within the various homes. I remember with delight some of the sessions sponsored by Miss Dowlen with philosophy students on Sunday evenings at her friendly Huntington Beach home. Many Division parties could be contained within one dwelling, and Dr. Peterson and Winnie used to invite the entire faculty annually to a pre-school open house in September.

In fact, the first years, Winnie even managed to invite all new faculty members and spouses in a series of shifts to Saturday buffet suppers. Louise Dowlen, good Southerner that she was and is, also was skilled in the art of entertaining, sponsored many a supper for the entire division, the memory of which will long stimulate the taste buds.

I have already mentioned the existence of the Faculty Club and the Faculty Association. There was also the Faculty Wives' Club. I was invited to speak at one of their early meetings on the glories of European travel. One unmistakable result of that special meeting which I addressed was more faculty travel. The first chairman of the Division of Fine and Applied Arts was Kenneth Boettcher. His wife, Corinne, a talented singer in her own right, had served as Dr. Peterson's first secretary at Orange Coast College. Something in my conviction that evening when appearing at the Faculty Wives' Club aroused her interest, so she avers, in European travel, and being very influential with Kenneth, they soon were on their way via Air France to Paris, where I met them at the Invalides station and inducted them into life in the Latin Quarter. Lest anyone forget, Kenneth Boettcher is the composer of the words and music of our Alma Mater—a "fait accompli" in time for our first assembly in September 1948. It has remained our official musical signature all these years.

It is not by random chance that I bring up travel, for our OCC Faculty is most extraordinarily peripatetic. The shape of our summers to come was vividly forecast in a picture and article in a Barnacle of June 1949. Bending over a map-covered table one can still descry the youthful faces of Charles Lewis, Giles Brown, Louise Dowlen, and myself. It seems we were all four headed for European tours that summer, and Brown and Lewis, both still bachelors, were traveling together for summer school in Edinburgh. But the pattern suggested so early has prevailed, and every summer since then I have encountered Orange Coast Faculty in Paris or some other European city. In fact, the Hotel du Grand Conde, at 2, Rue St. Sulpice, Paris VI, has become practically a summer rendezvous. To rehearse the names of all colleagues who have passed through la Ville Lumiere would constitute a catalog in itself. Among the most ardent devotees of this humble Parisian hostelry are Mr. and Mrs. Johnny Owens and their son. I have had many tours on the continent with fellow workers, but never a tour to equal the zest and vigor of a fortnight with the traveling Owens. But there is something delightfully different in seeing one's colleagues in exotic locales. [ have encountered Lloyd Smith strolling through Saint Germain des Pres on the Rive Gauche, Charles Berger poking through music shops in London's Charing Cross Road, Mamie Kimes tapping me on the shoulder during breakfast in a Strand hotel, not to mention all the scheduled rendezvous with other school friends. With the Browns (and others) I have explored medieval Paris back washes or the ancient neighborhood behind the Pantheon. Of administrators, the most traveled has been Dr. Bill Priest, who gave up his position as our first Dean of Evening College to head a new school, American River College in Sacramento. But I think he comes by this predilection independently, so I can claim no credit. Probably most administrators are too tightly bound to campus duties to wander as much as do their teachers. I feel we have been fortunate to live and work in decades when educational travel has been encouraged by shrinking distances, special rates to educators, and the lure of hurdle credits.

The most frustrating element in any attempt to reconstruct anything resembling a balanced faculty portrait is the impossibility of rehearsing even a tithe of the persons and experience that should be in the composition So many have contributed and in so generous a measure. No mention has been made of evening college instructors, nor of substitute faculty, or those who were on temporary contracts, and yet some of these people have been an inseparable part of our development.

Since this chapter has been so much concerned with "firsts," we may as well indulge in another—our first commencement ceremony, which was held in the former Army Air Base Theater—an edifice which was long since demolished. The commencement speaker was Dr. Frank Baxter, who, of course, marched in our small academic procession and lent the occasion considerable glamour with his picturesque Cambridge University academic gown. Dr. Thornton read out the names of the graduates, who then marched across the stage to shake hands with Dr. Peterson and receive their diplomas. Dr. Thornton had prefaced his part of the ritual with a classical apologue which I should like to repeat because it still has relevance. It seems that two juvenile delinquents sought to confuse and embarrass a highly reputed teacher of philosophy by an ingeniously idented bit of adolescent trickery. "Let us go to the master with a live bird hidden between our hands and ask him whether the captured fowl is dead or alive. If he answers 'alive,' we will crush it in our hands and expose the dead creature before him to show him how wrong he is. If he answers 'dead,' we will open our hands and let the bird fly away." So they went to the wise old teacher and propounded their query. But the confusers had their craftiness turned back upon them, for when they put their question, the wise old one replied: "The answer lies in your hand." At the risk of detracting from so moral a tale, I should like to add that we are still enjoying the quest for the answer these many years later.

Next Chapter