By Tim Brady

On September 14, 1901, volume 1, number 1, of the alumni publication of the University of Minnesota was published. Its first editor, E.B. Johnson, class of 1888, proudly announced the birth: "With this issue begins the life of the Minnesota Alumni Weekly." The purpose of the journal, he wrote, "will be to make the alumni acquainted with what is going on at the University at all times, and to foster a genuine University spirit among the alumni, by keeping them in touch with the University and each other." "The Weekly has no other aim," Johnson went on to write, "than to be a thoroughly wide awake newspaper." An annual subscription cost one dollar.

This issue of Minnesota, the magazine of the University of Minnesota Alumni Association, volume 101, number 1, marks the 100th anniversary of the alumni publication. Though the name has changed, and the publication has long since ceased to be a weekly, the purpose of the magazine to keep alumni in touch with the U through a "thoroughly wide awake" journal remains pretty much the same.

Johnson was serving as the alumni association s registrar when he began publishing the Alumni Weekly as a private undertaking. According to a brief history of the alumni association, written a number of years ago, "[Johnson] found alumni receptive to the new publication as news gatherers and subscribers. Advertisers, however, were not so responsive." To help alleviate this lack of advertising support, he appealed, in 1906, to the Minnesota Alumni Association (founded in 1904) to assume operation of the weekly. The association's board agreed.

Johnson established a tradition of editorial content that has more or less described the journal since its inception. In the alumni publication, there has always been a wealth of information on and for alumni. There has been a great deal of commentary on the ways and means of the University, stories dealing with the compelling issues of the day and how they affect the University, and always a lot of

Dressed as Queen Elizabeth for the University's May Fete pageant in 1911, Mrs. Vincent (wife of University president George E. Vincent) was photographed for the May 15 Minnesota Alumni Weekly. That issue also included a humorous excerpt from a report by a mechanical engineer, hired by the Carnegie Foundation, to determine whether colleges could be made more efficient. The excerpt reads, "There is no question of the amount of time wasted by professors, lecturers and instructors who speak slowly" and is followed by a chart listing the words per minute spoken by various professors and how many times they cleared their throats.

reporting on the school s athletics teams. This has meant that in a century that witnessed two world wars, the Great Depression, the first flight to the moon, plus the myriad fascinating figures who have graced the halls, lecture rooms, and sporting fields of the University, Minnesota has rarely been at a loss for subject matter.

In its early days, Minnesota tended to be a "newsy" journal with many brief stories and commentaries and a requisite amount of sports reporting and campus announcements. Because it came out weekly, it had the luxury of reporting on recent events. An article from an October 1902 issue gives a sense of the journal s tone, as well as a feel for the campus in a bygone era. Tucked between chatty notices ("Dr. W.P. Thelan, ex- 02, practicing in North Dakota, spent a few days with his brother in the city"), "The Merry War" details a curious spat between University students and local police. It seems that the officers began enforcing a law that prohibited bicycle riding on campus sidewalks a bad move in student eyes:

The students were very angry that the ordinance should be enforced without previous notice, and last Wednesday morning when the policeman attempted to arrest a student for riding upon the walk, the medical students took the matter up and carried the policeman none too gently over to the old interurban and placed him aboard a car going to St. Paul.

While it's safe to assume that in this day and age there wouldn t be seen much merriment in a group of students (medical, no less!) shipping one of Minneapolis's finest to St. Paul via the metro transit system, the campus protesters were not finished. The next day, the superintendent of police decided to beef up the bike patrol by sending four officers to the University. Another mistake, as it turned out:

At the close of the first hour some students saw [the officers] standing bashfully upon the corner of

Dubbed Ye Minnesota Alumni Weekly and adorned with merry designs for the Christmas season, the alumni publication of December 16, 1920, also found space to take care of some business. "Finally," reads an editorial comment, "we would appreciate your thoughtfulness in paying before the holidays. By doing this you will not only save us the expense of rebilling you, but will leave us freer to cope actively with the wolf of a deficit which has been prowling for a season rather persistently at the association's door."

University and 15th. The alarm was immediately given. And in an instant the blue coats were surrounded with a howling mob of students from every department until a crowd of nearly 1,000 had congregated. For a while everything was lovely and the only damage done was to the natural serenity of the above mentioned minions, who were jostled around considerably. But the fun began when one of the persecuted officers began to show his temper. It was decided then that they should be tied up. A rope was obtained, but this was cut by the policeman so as to render it useless. A lawn hose taken from an adjoining residence met the same fate. Then a chain was procured but the officers saw it coming and broke ranks and made for safety. . . . The crowd now became tumultuous and kept the officers on the run until they reached the car tracks, where one of them was sent east upon an Oak Street car, and the other three given a hearty farewell and were placed upon a downtown car. This ended the entertainment and class work was resumed as usual.

These were obviously students intent on riding their bicycles on sidewalks. The upshot of the story is that University president Cyrus Northrop was called in to mediate the dispute. Though he did so in favor of the authorities there would be no more bikes dodging pedestrians, or vice versa, on University sidewalks in the future he also secured an agreement from the police superintendent to keep officers away from campus.

Twenty-five years later, a more serious protest was reported extensively in the pages of Minnesota. Students, faculty, alumni, and administrators joined forces to protest a bill being debated in the 1927 Minnesota legislature that would have prohibited the teaching of evolution "in all the public schools, colleges, State Teachers colleges, and University of Minnesota, supported in whole or in part by the Public Education funds of the State of Minnesota."

The evolution debate was a hot topic throughout the nation. The famous Scopes trial, which featured Clarence

The October 17, 1931, issue of the Minnesota Alumni Weekly invited alumni to a homecoming roundup that featured a rodeo and Wild-West show in the field house with a mock battle between cowboys and Indians. this issue also introduced a new travel service for alumni, including West Indies cruises whose trips ranged from 10 days to a month and cost $100 and up.

Darrow in defense of evolution, and William Jennings Bryan against it, had been heard in 1925. Tennessee teacher John Scopes had been charged with, and was ultimately convicted of, breaking a state law that banned the teaching of evolution in public schools. Two years after the trial, a Minneapolis minister named Dr. W.B. Riley was leading efforts to enact similar legislation in Minnesota.

The opposition to Riley, as detailed in the pages of Minnesota, was immediate and loud: "Students in Mass Meeting Protest Bill," "Immediate Action Necessary," "Evolution Fight Calls Alumni," "Faculty, Executives Voice Protest."

This last headline fronted a commentary contributed by Guy Stanton Ford, dean of the University s Graduate School (and later president of the University). In it, he wrote:

It is an old story, this attempt to save some theological creed by shouting about the atheism of universities and the danger to Christianity from science. As I write at my desk I can turn and pull down from my bookshelves, volumes in which it is told and retold as advances of science showed the world was not flat, or was not the center of the universe with the heavens a fixed dome over our heads.

Protesting voices at the University have rarely been so unanimous in their opinions. The era of the Vietnam War marks perhaps the most extreme gap in discourse. In September 1970, in the wake of a student strike prompted by war protests the previous May, Minnesota published a stinging editorial from a University of Montana history professor named K. Ross Toole, "It s Time to Stop Apologizing to Youth." Speaking as a 49-year-old "member of the establishment," Toole wrote:

I am fed up with nonsense. I am tired of being blamed, maimed and contrite; I am tired of tolerance and the reaching out (which is always my function) for understanding. I am sick of the total irrationality of the campus "rebel," whose

For years, the homecoming issue of the Alumni Weekly was turned over to student editors who filled the pages almost entirely with football-game prognostications and unbelievable accounts, such as an interview with Floyd the Pig. The tone set by the students seemed to give the true editors literary license as well. Opening remarks in the October 26, 1940, issue read: "For the benefit of any of our local advertisers who may read these remarks we'll say that the bulk of the circulation is in Minnesota although we do hear occasionally from readers in every state except Vermont."

bearded visage, dirty hair, body odor and "tactics" are childish but brutal, naive but dangerous, and the essence of arrogant tyranny the tyranny of spoiled brats.

In its next issue, Minnesota published a rebuttal letter from Dr. Maurice B. Visscher, the University s famed Regents Professor of Physiology, and one of the leaders of faculty opposition to the war in Vietnam:

Nowhere in the article does Dr. Toole admit that the United States may be in gross error in being engaged in a war on the opposite side of the globe. It is one thing to castigate youth for a wide range of actions, from wearing beards and long hair to the really horrendous things of bombing buildings and killing people. But it all has a vast hollow sound when it fails to be equally censorious of the older generation which has promoted the slaughter of innocent women and children and non-combatants in Southeast Asia.

Through the years, Minnesota has not shied away from discussions of social, cultural, and political issues as they ve affected the University, its students, and alumni. A November 1979 article outlined the famed case of U of M grad Allan Bakke ( 62), who sued the University of California in the 1970s, charging it with reverse discrimination in its medical school admission policies. The U.S. Supreme Court decided the case in Bakke s favor in 1978. Sonia Johnson, another figure from that era whose name should ring a faint bell, was profiled just months later in Minnesota. Johnson, a former U of M graduate student and teaching assistant, was the Mormon woman excommunicated from her church because of her advocacy of the Equal Rights Amendment.

Minnesota has also been a voice in the seemingly endless funding debate between the University and state government. In 1927, Governor Theodore Christianson wanted to limit the size of the appropriation for the U. He accused the University of spending too much on construction. "Teachers,

While the Gopher football team was not bound for glory in 1951, University education student Carolyn Johnson brought the U a gridiron trophy nonetheless. She was named Miss Football of 1951 in a national invitation contest. The November 1951 issue of Minnesota also featured two alumnae who went on to become stewardesses: "Minnesota alumni flying the Pacific via Pan American or on American Airlines in the southwest may be so fortunate as to encounter these two attractive Minnesota alumnae. Brown haired Elizabeth Ann Ernst (B.A. '49) . . . [and] blonde Linda Sickman (B.S. '40) . . . ."

not buildings, make a school, not proud piles of brick and mortar, but earnest, devoted men and women, motivated by the love of learning and the passion to lead young people."

Precisely, said University president Lotus Coffman, who pledged that the entire amount of the appropriation, some $7.5 million for two years, would go to instruction.

Thus are the lines formed. . . . President Coffman on the one asking that sufficient money be appropriated that the University may maintain a reasonable existence, . . . Governor Christianson, on the other, demanding that all departments of the state keep their appropriations with the limit necessary to their existence. . . . "What the sentiment of the people over the state as a whole is and what the opinion of the majority of the legislators is, cannot now be ascertained."

In May 1961, the pressing issue of the day was the Cold War. U of M alumnus Eric Sevareid (B.A. 35) weighed in on the subject in a lengthy article for Minnesota that took the form of a travelogue. Sevareid essentially outlined the political state of a number of nations that he d recently visited as a CBS correspondent. He was not altogether optimistic about the post World War II political future of the globe: "The problem is not to save the world for democracy; it is to save the world; and to save democracy in those parts of the world that know how to operate democracy."

Threats to democracy were a common theme in articles in Minnesota in the 1950s. Even a February 1955 article updating fraternity and sorority life on campus (illustrated with a photo of a couple in togas doing a mean rock n roll) is laced with examples of how Greek social functions were serving the cause of freedom: "Greeks are no longer cliques of self-designated campus big shots, as they were sometimes guilty of being in past decades. Today they not only practice democracy; they work for it. . . . The proceeds from [Greek Week s] 1955 Variety Show (which

Eric Sevareid (B.A. '35) was pictured on the cover of the May 1961 issue of the Alumni News. Sevareid, a CBS correspondent, had won a Peabody Award for news reporting in 1950 and received the University's Outstanding Achievement Award in 1955. This issue contained excerpts from a lecture on his impressions of world affairs that he had given at the University of Minnesota, Duluth, following a roving assignment abroad.

took in $7,650 in 1954) will help the Crusade for Freedom bring democracy s truth via Radio Free Europe behind the Iron Curtain." It should be confessed that Minnesota has from time to time fallen short of its mission to publish "wide awake" journalism. For whatever reasons, the magazine in the 1930s often favored reprints of academic papers that tended to be a little dry. "Why Is Gold So Important?"; "The Alumnus and His College"; and "The Value of Aptitude Testing" all have their merits as educational readings, but page-turners, they are not. The last-named article opens with this scintillating lead:

If you were planning to prepare for a job that requires close work, like watchmaking, for example, and you wanted to know whether your eyes were strong enough for such a job, what would you do? You wouldn t go to the corner drugstore and ask the soda-jerker to examine your eyes. You wouldn t ask the newsboy on the corner. You would go to an eye-doctor.

Sound advice. And here's some more: If perusing this same article in Minnesota, you might want to skip to the advertising. It offers its own special portrait of the university and its times, and is a tad more colorful.

Buick was one of the big ad buyers of the day. Its pitch appealed directly to the established University grad: "A Scholarly Line of Caps and Gowns Lead the Parade to Buick. . . . The alumni of fifteen of the most highly respected colleges and universities in America (your own included) own nearly twice as many Buicks as any other car costing more than $1000."

While tooling down the road behind their "Valve-in-Head Straight Eight Engines," drivers might consider lighting up a Camel cigarette, another big Minnesota advertiser. The R.J. Reynolds pitch line, "Switch to Camels then leave them if you can," has a more ominous ring in the present than presumably it did in the 1930s.

In an earlier day, closer to the turn of the century, one of Minnesota s

Norman Borlaug (B.S. '37, M.S. '41, Ph.D. '42), who won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1970, appeared on the cover of the December 1970 issue of the Alumni News with University president Malcolm Moos (B.A. '37). Borlaug was a leader in the green revolution and developed high-yielding, drought-resistant dwarf wheat. Of meeting Borlaug, President Moos said that the only thing he had in common with this famous alumnus was the same year of graduation from the University.

best advertisers was Boston Garter, "The Standard for Gentlemen." It was "Always Easy. Lies flat to the leg never Slips, Tears nor Unfastens." Plus a must-have item it featured "The Velvet Grip Cushion Button Clasp." Just about everything a guy could want in a garter and "Sold Everywhere" to boot.

Minnesota has been published in a variety of formats and sizes through the years, including a brief period in the 1970s when it appeared as a tabloid. It has also had a variety of names. In the beginning, it was the Minnesota Alumni Weekly, then it became the Minnesota Alumnus, then Minnesota: Voice of the Alumni, then Gopher Grad, then the Alumni News, and, finally, Minnesota.

To cut costs during World War II, the Alumni Weekly became a monthly, and editorial content reflected the nature of the global crisis. At the beginning of the war, the magazine was full of news of its grads and students in the armed services. A monthly column, "Minnesotans in Uniform," detailed the service of the thousands of men and women from the University who took part in the war effort, including perhaps its most famous son then in uniform. This is from September 1943: "Lieut. Comdr. Harold F. Stassen (B.A. 27, J.D. 29), who was graduated from the Naval Training School at Fort Schuyler, N.Y., on July 23, is now on active duty overseas as Flag Secretary to Admiral William F. Halsey, Commander of the South Pacific Fleet. He resigned as governor of Minnesota to report for duty in the United States Reserve in May."

But already the magazine had assumed its saddest role. "Minnesota s Roll of Honor" was a monthly listing of all the dead, missing, and wounded who had been a part of the University. From December 7, 1941, to its June 1945 issue, Minnesota published the names of 520 graduates and former students who had died in the service of their country.

When E.B. Johnson founded the Minnesota Alumni Weekly, he made it one of the central tenets of the magazine that it would "furnish news

In April 1981, the big question on campus was whether the Gopher football team would play its home games beginning in 1982 at the Hubert H. Humphrey Metrodome, then under construction. "I'm surprised that so few people are concentrating on the question of tradition. The younger people—the student representatives—are concerned about this, but the older people are asking questions about parking, and mundane things like that," alumnus Chuck Standing (B.S. '65, Ph.D. '70) was quoted in the Minnesota cover story.

of athletics from the University point of view, not from the sport s point of view" meaning that the magazine would be reporting on matters beyond simple devotion to University teams and their stars. True to his word, the coverage of athletics in the first years of the publication proved intense and sometimes critical. It was also extensive, with the football team under legendary coach Henry Williams receiving the bulk of the ink.

The apotheosis of Minnesota s football coverage occurred in November 1914, when the magazine devoted an entire edition a dense 188 pages to football at the U. It was the occasion of the sport s 30th anniversary at the University. Included in the special edition were short biographies of past and present stars, play-by-play analyses of memorable games, and a lengthy history of the sport on campus that actually cast some doubt on the precise date of football s origins at Minnesota: "The games of the early years were played according to no set of rules now recognizable; it is probable that the rules were, to some extent, a combination of both association and Rugby games. . . . We can find no printed record of any game played with an outside team during the years 1884 and 1885."

Over the years, other sports have received their share of coverage in Minnesota. In fact, few stories have appeared more proudly in the magazine than the one on the victory of the U.S. hockey team in the 1980 Winter Olympics. With a contingent of nine Gophers and three other players from the state led by University of Minnesota coach Herb Brooks, the hockey team had a decidedly Minnesota flavor to it, and the state was justifiably proud of its contribution to one of the greatest upset wins in Olympic history.

During the electrifying defeat of the Soviet Union on the Friday night before the Sunday championship, "Students at the University of Minnesota . . . were packed into barrooms and television lounges in dormitories and fraternity houses, watching the game and cheering wildly," according to Minnesota

Photographed by William Coupon for the May-June 1991 cover story of Minnesota, Dave Winfield was interviewed about his experiences playing Gopher basketball for coach Bill Musselman and hardball with George Steinbrenner. In 2001, Winfield became the first Gopher student-athlete inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame and received an Outstanding Achievement Award from the University in part because of his contributions through the David M. Winfield Foundation, which he established in 1977.

associate editor Larry Elveru in his April 1980 story:

The stunning victory was sweet revenge to the Americans for a 10 3 loss to the Russians in a warm-up game just a week before the Olympics began. But it meant much more than that to the American public. In the wake of the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and with the continuing dilemma of the American hostages in Iran, the political symbolism of this unexpected American triumph on ice was a major morale booster. For some it assumed the character of a sort of national vindication.

During the 1990s and into the 21st century, Minnesota has continued its tradition of timely coverage of University-related issues, events, and personalities. A 1993 feature put a University spin on President Bill Clinton s soon-to-be quashed health-care plan. A 1994 story, "Read This if You Have to Double Your Kids College Money," dealt with the rising cost of college tuition and how families ought to plan on socking money away. (The figures in the article already seem like a drop in the bucket compared with 2001 costs.) Another 1994 feature, "Making the Hollywood Connection," highlights University success stories in the world of film. Later in the 1990s, Minnesota tackled the pressing topics of regent selection, recruiting and retaining faculty of color, and binge drinking among students.

All of these, and countless other stories published through the years, were, of course, done in the traditional "wide awake" style established with the words of the publication s first editor. No doubt that editorial charge will continue for the next 100 years of publication, and along with it will continue the original purpose of the magazine: to keep alumni apprised of doings at the University and to foster enthusiasm for their alma mater.

Tim Brady is a freelance writer who lives in St. Paul. Watch Minnesota for continuing coverage of its centennial year.