Western Illinois University in the late 1960s is indelibly etched in my memory. In 1968, I graduated in the first class of Southeastern Iowa Community College, married my high school sweetheart, Linda Marie Nuss, then enrolled at Western to study political science and history, while earning my teaching certificate.
Our first domicile was married student housing across the ravine from the Washington and Lincoln Towers at 507 West Pierce, apartment 304. Several of my high school classmates also lived in “East Village,” including Dick and June Morrison (Dick played basketball for the Leathernecks) and Tom and Diana George Green (both of whom became highly respected professors at Western). Also living in the complex, although unbeknownst to me at the time, were John and Garnette Hallwas! Our apartment had but two rooms and a bathroom. There was just enough space for a couch, a table with chairs, a bed and dressers. Rent was a mere $70 per month, including utilities.
Linda worked full-time as the legal secretary for the state’s attorney in the McDonough County Courthouse. Her first boss was C. Don Weston, followed by Lyle Robbins and Linda Haack. These attorneys were very kind to both of us, and I especially liked visiting trials and learning about the judicial process. I worked in the evenings and on every weekend, giving music lessons (guitar, bass, and banjo) at App’s Music House in Burlington, Iowa. The owner, O.W.
Appleton, was a renowned musician, my mentor, and the inventor of the first solid body electric guitar (indeed, I had the distinction of playing that guitar). Mr. App (as he was widely known) inspired me to become the first-ever guitarist in the Burlington High School Stage Band and then hired me to give lessons in his basement studio at Washington and Third throughout high school and college. It was well worth the forty-five-mile drive between Macomb and Burlington. I drove a 1967 VW bug that got fifty miles to the gallon, when gasoline cost between thirty and forty cents per gallon!
Additionally, I had forty-five music students per week and earned $2.50 per half-hour lesson. Thus, I was earning $5.00 an hour when the minimum wage was just $1.25. This enabled me to pay cash for my tuition, fees, and books at Western.
My first days at Western were a bit overwhelming. There were no dedicated academic advisors. Professors advised for their respective majors. I was assigned to a newly hired assistant professor in the History Department who had absolutely no knowledge of the curricula, prerequisites, or course requirements. He just instructed me to read and follow the course catalog. Registration was in the old auditorium on the third floor of Sherman Hall. Students registered by class rank and last names. To register for a class, students moved from table to table, securing IBM punch cards for their desired classes and times. Registering relatively late meant that most of my preferred classes and times were closed and that I had to scramble to find courses. My first classes were strewn over the campus at all hours of the day.
Western was teaming with students throughout the year, including the summers. These were the Post-World War II “Baby Boomers.” Indeed, in Fall 1968 there were some 10,000 full-time students (twelve credit hours), and enrollment was increasing at an accelerated rate, approaching 12,000 when I graduated in 1970. Standards were high, and grade inflation was not an issue. The newly constructed academic buildings and high-rise dormitories were filled to their capacities. These included Morgan Hall, Horrabin Hall and the new high-rise dormitories (Thompson and Higgins halls to the west, and Tanner, Bayliss, Henninger, and Wetzel halls in the northeast—the so-called “North Quad.”) These buildings, including the Student Union and East Village, had that proverbial “new car look and smell.” The Q-Lot filled quickly each day with commuter students, and students often walked three and four abreast between classes, resembling an hourly mass migration. The area between the Union and buildings at the north end of campus (i.e., Morgan, Waggoner, and Western halls) was quite barren.
There were scarcely any mature trees and very few concrete walkways. Instead, there were paver-based, student-worn paths that got muddy when it rained. It was a nightmare for custodiams to clean up the never-ending flow of gray silt and mud that tracked through the buildings each day.
Western was on the quarter-system rather than the semester system. This had certain advantages and disadvantages. If there was course you did not like, you only had to tough it out for eight weeks. Unfortunately, nearly every course required a significant term paper. That meant you had to find a topic and begin researching it by the end of the third week or it might be too late to complete. The library was in Memorial Hall, and it was crammed with students, making it difficult to find a seat. Obviously, there were no computers or internet services, so students had to use card catalogs, become familiar with the Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature, and pester the overworked librarians.
Furthermore, many faculty members assigned additional readings in the Reserve Room on the first floor. Students could check out those readings for an hour or make photocopies. It was not uncommon to wait several hours for a fellow classmate to return the reading, and there was but one, very slow copy machine, with long waiting lines, that frequently ran out of paper and broke down. One of my professors, Dr. Morton Cowden, the very first chair of the Political Science Department, often checked the sign-out sheets in the reserve room and then called upon students to test their understanding of the assigned readings. I could never have imagined that some thirty-six years later, I would become just the fourth chair of the Political Science Department, and the only alum to fill that position!
My stint at Western was a time of great political and social upheaval. In 1968, Senator Bobby Kennedy and the Rev. Dr.
Martin Luther King, Jr. were assassinated. The Democratic National Convention in Chicago ended in a riot with claims of police brutality. Richard Nixon was elected President of the United States, and the War in Vietnam grew increasingly unpopular. Dr. Arthur L. Knoblauch was president of Western, and his conservative views frequently clashed with the faculty members and students. Indeed, Knoblauch was hanged in effigy and his home was set ablaze. He was replaced by John T. Bernhard. The infamous Kent State University massacre occurred just one month before I graduated, and our campus witnessed many demonstrations against the war. Some professors even canceled classes in support of those demonstrations. While I fully supported the right to protest peacefully in public places, I believed my professors had fiduciary and ethical obligations to teach their classes, especially since I was funding my own education.
Scores of new professors were hired to accommodate the great influx of students. Many young professors were newly minted Ph.D.’s with little or no classroom experience.
Some new hires were quite exceptional. A few, however, appeared just a few steps ahead of their minions. I could always identify professors who were not prepared for classes. They relied on “fillers”—activities that merely filled time, such as giving pop quizzes, having students count-off and divide into discussion groups, assigning endless amounts of student presentations, or showing films that often had no bearing on the topics at hand. It was also not uncommon for professors to smoke cigarettes and pipes in class.
Teaching endeavors have two key elements content and delivery. My favorite education professors were Warren O.
Covert and H. C. Whitmill. For one semester I was assigned to observe and analyze a student in Roy Grindstaff’s fourth grade class in the new Horrabin Hall Lab School. That student was Jimmy Stipanowich, son of Dr. Joseph Stipanowich, chair of the Mathematics Department. Not surprisingly, Jimmy was light-years ahead of his classmates in math, but what really stood out was his amazing knowledge of U.S. history. Indeed, he was a walking compendium of facts and figures on every U.S. president and vice president. He also had the most amazing campaign button collection I had ever seen. But one student in the class that really caught my attention was a gregarious, highly entertaining and very popular boy. It was Bryce Dexter, son of noted Macomb physician Dr. Donald Dexter. Bryce later became a development officer at WIU and was famous for his spot-on Elvis Presley impersonations! My most rewarding experience, however, was student teaching at Macomb High School under the tutelage of Dave Vance. This was the very first year in the new high school, and I taught world history to juniors and economics to seniors.
My other courses provided the content that I craved. I was fortunate to have many outstanding professors, including Richard “Dick” Abbot (health sciences), David Frier (political science), Jane Hammond (political science), Richard Hirtzel (political science), John Raatjes (history), and Daniel Johnson (history). However, my most memorable professors were Harry Mussatto (physical education), Charles Leonard (political science), and Donald Marshall (political science).
Students were required to take physical education courses. Indeed, no one was permitted to graduate from Western unless he or she passed a swimming test! I believe Western may have been the only institution in the nation that had such a requirement. Students had many options for fulfilling their physical education requirements, including personal fitness (i.e., weightlifting and calisthenics), team sports (i.e., basketball, volleyball) or recreational sports (i.e., archery, golf, and table tennis).
I was fortunate to have the legendary Harry Mussatto for two physical education classes. Mr. Mussatto coached the WIU men’s golf team to two national championships (1959 and 1962) and fourteen conference championships! I took a course in badminton. On the first day, Coach Mussatto said, “Badminton is not as easy as it looks.” He explained that you must score twenty-one points, only score when you serve, and must win by two points. He then made this challenge: “If anybody can beat me, I will award you an ‘A’ for the quarter, and you will not have to attend the remaining classes.”
Moreover, he offered to spot any student eighteen points and give up the first serve. The room got quiet. I brazenly raised my hand and took the challenge. After all, I was in great shape, ran constantly, played sports regularly, and took pride in the fact that I could do over 250 consecutive pushups!
I was quite confident I could beat a man forty years my senior! That was a terrible mistake. Coach Mussato quickly made a fool of me! He beat me twenty-one to nineteen!
And he hardly moved on the court. I learned a valuable lesson--not to underestimate someone because of their age or appearance-- and henceforth Coach Mussatto never let me forget it whenever he saw me on campus.
Two others also left lasting impressionc. Dr. Charles Leonard taught courses in political theory and constitutional law and supervised my senior seminar in public law.
The man was brilliant! His classes were demanding, but extremely well organized. His lectures were thoughtful and stimulating. He took the time to learn students’ names, engage with them, and explain difficult concepts cogently.
Dr. Leonard also helped us form Western’s first pre-law club, of which I served as the secretary-treasurer. But my all-time favorite professor was Don Marshall. He was a Western alumnus who brought considerable “real world” experiences into the classroom, including working in a U.S. congressional office and fighting on the beaches of Normandy on D-Day! The man stood tall and just seemed to draw the air from any room he entered. He had a pleasant smile, a resonant voice, and absolute command of the room. He had complete mastery of the subject matter, rarely needed notes, and enjoyed answering questions. Both professors Leonard and Marshall maintained high expectations, were open-minded and good about not putting people down for their political beliefs or partisan leanings. They were my role models!
I will always be indebted to Western Illinois University.
My father was a printer with a ninth-grade education and my mother was a homemaker. I cannot think of any adults in my neighborhood that ever attended college. Certainly, my parents could not afford to send three children to college on one modest income. Western afforded me that opportunity. I was blessed to earn a quality education at an affordable price where expectations were high, and merit was rewarded. I am eternally grateful to professors Leonard and Marshall for taking me under their wings and encouraging me to continue my graduate education.
It has now been fifty-five years since I graduated “with honors” from Western. I have enjoyed a fifty-year college teaching career, including at Northern State University, Duke University, the University of Missouri-Columbia, and Western Illinois University. Like my role models, I have always taken off my partisan coat before I walked into a classroom. After all, nobody elected me to be a professor. I have always presented both sides on every issue, irrespective of my own personal views, and encouraged students to discuss sensitive issues freely. I have rarely, and in most classes never, used notes, shown movies, or employed PowerPoint presentations or “fillers.” I have always taken pride in presenting both good content and delivery.
After returning to Western, as a professor and a chair, I have often thought about those who have gone before me.
I can still picture my favorite professors walking down the halls, standing before their classes, and sitting at their desks.
Of course, my own students don’t realize it, but there are a lot of those professors who have long impacted me.
