By Ken Lloyd (Econ’47)
Hanging on the wall in my office is the saying, “Illigitene new carborundum.” Loosely translated this means “Don’t let the bastards get you down.” This relates to my first week at the University of Colorado, fall 1940.
I was in the arts and sciences college. Late in my freshman year I took a course in economics. This opened up a new world for me. I was already interested in political science, so I decided then and there that I would major in both economics and political science. I had some difficulty in both areas as I seemed to disagree with some professors quite often, and I found out later they were liberal Democrats. I did learn that there are always two sides to any subject. I was in the class of 1944, but didn’t get my college degree until 1947 due to a small interruption called World War II.
Some of my classes included chemistry, math, accounting, political science (it’s not really a science), constitutional law, economics of war, money and banking, psychology, European history and American literature. I had some fine professors. Here are some I remember:
CU Little Theatre
Francis Wolle (MA’16) was the Little Theatre director. Also, peculiarly, he taught a math class that I was in. I had done some acting in high school so decided to try out for a part when I was a freshman. Surprisingly, I was given a part in a one act play with one other actor, opposite Peggy Kellerman, a beautiful Hawaiian (never could get a date with her. My acting may have killed that possibility). Two particular events have stayed poignant in my mind ever since. Professor Wolle, a single man, asked me to come to his apartment one evening for coaching. We had a little small talk. Then:
Ken and Peggy Kellerman
“Take off your shirt and turn around.” He placed his hands on my diaphragm. I nearly panicked.
“Now, breathe deeply, filling your lungs. Now as you exhale, speak from your diaphragm. Let me feel it.”
I settled down and did as I was told. What a difference in my voice — deeper and more resonant. He wasn’t attracted to me after all.
This was a one-act play, Renaissance style. I had to wear fancy, velvet pantaloons and a matching jacket. So Francis Wolle drove me through downtown Boulder to a small bungalow on Pine Street. The living room was filled with cloth in all kinds and colors, plus three sewing machines. Dr. Wolle described to the seamstress the costume he wanted made for me. She took measurements and we left. Rehearsal night the exquisite costume arrived. A perfect fit. That first night, I can’t remember hisses or boos or clapping, but I remember Peggy and the seamstress.
Sibel Wolle traveled Colorado to document dying ghost towns.
The seamstress turned out to be Muriel Sibell (MA’30) of the fine arts department and later head of the department and still later the wife of Francis Wolle. Sibell first came to Colorado in 1929 from the East and became entranced with the Rockies and the mining-era ghost towns. In summers for many years she tramped the mountains, researched the history of mining camps and drew charcoal pictures of towns and buildings. Her book, Stampede to Timberline, published in 1949, is an incredible collection of writing and pictures of more than 240 ghost towns. Most have now disappeared with the exception of a few weathered wooden planks.
I learned from this experience never to take a person for granted. Many a seeming seamstress is in truth an artist.
Muriell Sibell accumulated over the years probably the greatest collection of Kachina dolls in the U.S. She donated it to the CU Museum of Natural History where they are currently in storage. Other educators that stand out in my college career:
I had R.G. Gustafson for freshman chemistry lecture. Big physical man. Made chemistry fascinating. Proved to us through chemistry that there was a supreme being. He became the University of Nebraska chancellor.
Then there was Warner Imig, head of the music department. I was a good singer, not great, just good so I joined the University Glee Club. Imig directed. He was easy going but able to get the best out of each of us.
Mrs. Hart and “Captain” Bly Curtis.
I had to work my way through school and since I dated little (my future wife, Peggy, was in Fort Collins) I volunteered to stay after big dinners in the community center and scrub pots and pans. Hart was the supervisor. When she became manager of the Faculty Club on Broadway, she asked me to come and work there for room and board. I readily accepted.
I cleaned off the stairs daily, dumped the trash and cleaned the poker and pool tables in the basement (the only people who played pool were us student employees). For this difficult work I received room and board. To this day I believe I had the best job at the university. And I had the best meals on campus. Sure beat working for a living. Hart had to resign because of back problems. “Captain” Bly Curtis was the head of all the dorms and took over the faculty club. One hour later I was gone. For some reason, she didn’t think I was earning my keep. Uncle Sam wanted me about then so it was OK.
So these are some of the college teachers I remember best–that had the most effect on my life. I thank them. I truly thank them.
In 1944 I was off to the unknown world of war.
Francis Wolle was one of Ken's favorite professors in the 1940s.
I truly enjoyed college—the classes, the sports, the political, the social—all of it. College truly helped me to grow up and expand my horizons. The coming military service would be a major change in my life. Such service was absolutely necessary if America and its allies were to retain democracies and freedoms.
So it is on to the unknown world of war.
P.S.: I truly enjoyed college—the classes, the sports, the political, the social life — all of it. College truly helped me to grow up and expand my horizons. The coming military service would be a major change in my life. Such service was absolutely necessary if America and its allies were to retain democracies and freedoms.
Thanks for the information about the Wolles’. I knew Francis through his involvement as an unpaid assistant Cross Country Coach in 1949. Had copies of Muriell’s books but lent them years ago and they are still out there somewhere. I
I thank you and all the other returning GI’s for helping to make the CU experience some of the best years of my life. Of course,with a foundation Llike that the best is yet to come.
Lloyd Barlow ex’53
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This was a very interesting article! My Dad, who attended CU on the GI Bill after WWII, also talked about Muriel Sibell. He has a copy of her book. Although the article did not mention it, at one time there was an art building named for Muriel, the “Sibell-Wolle Fine Arts Building,” which I believe was over near the current ATLAS building. I also recognized Warner Imig’s name as the namesake of the music building.
From my own years at CU, I still remember some outstanding professors: Joy King, now Associate Professor Emerita of Classics; Ernst A. Fredricksmeyer, Professor Emeritus of Classics; Ralph Mann of History (I still have notes from his course on “American Society and Thought Since 1865″); and from the Journalism School, Bill McReynolds, Mal Deans, Bob Rhodes and even Sam Archibald (sadly, all these Journalism professors are now dead). McReynolds had done a lot of research comparing and contrasting U.S. Presidents Jefferson and Jackson and described how this played out in the Westward expansion. Deans brought real-world newspaper experience to us neophytes stuck in Macky, while Rhodes was an excellent photographer who patiently imparted his wisdom. Archibald taught Journalism and the Law using Socratic dialogues to drill us and was a tough teacher, witnessed by the “C” I received in Archibald’s senior practicum on investigative reporting.
I beat myself up about that “C” for years and then I realized I had received a world-class education at CU that helped me find work in my degree field. My ’82 BS in Journalism has long been paid for, and has paid off exponentially over the years.
Jenny L. Herring, ’82, Journalism
Some years ago I requested in an alumni publication personal memories of Francis Wolle with the intent to write a biography of this wonderful professor who brought 20th Century poetry and the poets who wrote it alive for me because he had known many of them personally. I have a copy of his self-published autobiography relating his childhood in Bethlehem, PA, where he and his friends and cousin Hilda Doolittle (Imagist poet H.D.) acted out Shakespearean plays. In “my time,” he and Muriel Sibell Wolle were married, and they entertained his classes at his home once a semester. We toured their shared study and saw her doll collection. I, too, have a copy of STAMPEDE TO TIMBERLINE and understand that he traveled with her on her treks to mountain ghost towns. I thank Ken Lloyd for adding his stories to my information on one of my favorite CU professors with whom I kept in contact after graduation. At one point he mailed me a note advising me not to delay marriage too long in life. I’m sure that advice came from his own experience. After retiring from teaching in the spring of 1957 (my senior year), he became a Deacon in the Episcopal Church and remained active with CU students in his totally new capacity. (When I was part of Father Pat’s flock, Mrs. Wolle attended church, not my dear friend Francis.) I took my parents visiting from Illinois to hear Prof. Wolle read from “Patterson” at the Memorial Union, and they and he met several times after that. Upon their return to Boulder after my graduation, they dropped in on him at his house one day, and he greeted Mother with the words, “You’re Alyce’s mother.” I still hope to write more about him than these brief words and would welcome remembrances sent to me at Alycemj@live.com..