by Karen J. Underhill
Originally published in The Journal of Arizona History, volume 37, Summer 1996, p. 163- 180
Karen J. Underhill is the Head of Special Collections and Archives at Northern Arizona University's, Cline Library. Prior to joining the NAU staff in 1990, she worked for the Arizona Historical Society in Tucson, as an archivist and registrar, and the San Diego Historical Society, as a museum registrar. Ms. Underhill holds a Master's degree in History and M.A. in Library Science from the University of Arizona. Her current professional interests include: digital applications, copyright, oral history, and Native American archives. email Karen Underhill
IN 1995, EIGHTY-THREE ALUMNI took the time to respond to a questionnaire concerning the impact of the Great Depression on their education at Arizona State Teachers College (ASTC) in Flagstaff. Some apologized for poor handwriting, others for the effect of arthritis or a stroke. "Sorry this took so long," Amy Worthen regretted, "there are days when my arthritis cuts up, and my fingers won't do what I want them to do." Irene McDonald wrote on behalf of Lewis J. McDonald, the 1930-31 class president and distinguished Northern Arizona University employee, who was suffering from Alzheimer's disease. Together, their moving reminiscences reflect love for their alma mater and reveal a great deal about campus conditions in the thirties from the student perspective. The financial insecurity of the depression influenced everything, from these students' selection of a school to their social life and, ultimately, their career choices. ASTC president Grady Gammage recognized that higher education was a "depression industry" -- one that fared well in hard times. Most of the alumni would agree.
Some universal themes emerge from these recollections, such as fondness for the undergraduate experience and the intimacy of a small student body. Local characteristics unique to ASTC -- generous financial aid, self-sufficiency, and ethnic tolerance -- can also be identified. "It was the only school I knew about that would make [a college education] possible for a student with very limited financial ability (I was born in a rural community where most families were far below any poverty level)," Elwood Miller declared. Charles S. Shumway remembered that "ASTC was in the 30s almost self-sustaining. They produced their own electricity with a steam-powered generator. Bread, pies, and cakes were baked in large ovens located behind the dining hall staffed by student bakers. Health care was provided in a cottage called the infirmary or better known as the Pest House." "It was a little 'cow college' when I went there (cows actually grazed on the football field)," John Fetterly Gault commented. "School was a place I was and am proud to be part [of]," Ida Mae Fredericks Nowabbi Murdock said. "As a full-blooded Indian I was accepted." In 1939 Ida was the first Hopi Indian to obtain a degree. Known as "Walking Woman" in Hopi, she made the honor roll several times. After a long career as an educator, she is now a volunteer music teacher for kindergarten through seventh-grade students at the Hopi Mission School.1
Some topics that pervade other oral histories of thirties' college students are conspicuously absent from these memoirs. Just one ASTC graduate mentioned Communism as a critical campus issue. No one recalled any students starving or tension between "haves" and "have-nots." Taken together, the questionnaires offer a voice devoid of bitterness or despair.2
ASTC opened its doors as Northern Arizona Normal School in 1899 with two faculty and an enrollment of thirty-seven. By 1930, the school had changed names twice -- Northern Arizona State Teachers College in 1924 and ASTC in 1928 -- and grown to 476 students and thirty-nine faculty members. The largely unlandscaped campus consisted of fourteen buildings. The North Central Association of Colleges and Secondary Schools accredited ASTC as a teacher-training institution in 1930, the only school in the Southwest so recognized. Two presidents, Grady Gammage (1926-33) and Thomas Tormey (1933-44), charted the school's course through a turbulent decade.3
"Prune pickers" from California, farm kids, the sons and daughters of mining families, misplaced or adventuresome easterners -- such was the composition of the ASTC student body in the 1930s. In 1933, the school enrolled students from all fourteen Arizona counties, twelve other states, and the Philippine Islands. Californians led the out-of-state list, just 8 percent of the total student population. The ratio between men and women hovered near parity.4
A majority of the alumni recalled a homogeneous student body. Jeff Murray Ferris noted that "the student body was all in the same economic group. We were all poor but we didn't know it." Most were from rural Arizona. Those who noticed differences mentioned older, returning students or the few Native American and Hispanic students. Dorothy Fain Benatz remembered with fondness Wilson Riles (Class of 1940), an off-campus African American student, who later served as principal of the segregated Dunbar School in Flagstaff and eventually became superintendent of public instruction for California. Rachel M. Smith Hill recalled that "summer school drew a much more varied group both as students and teachers. They were older and came from all parts of the country, drawn by the climate and the many scenic attractions."5
It was, Charles B. Fleming stated, "the only institution of higher learning in Arizona which offered me a job to partially pay for my education. It was the worst of times in the 30s. At the time I entered ASTC my father was unemployed. After 22 years with the Phelps Dodge Corp. he was pensioned on $95 a month." Alumni cited location and the availability of jobs as the most important factors in selecting ASTC. Other students, like Frederick J. Dockstader, future director of the Heye Foundation Museum of the American Indian, and Betty Safford Kernahan, came because their relatives -- in this case, aunts Cornelia Dockstader and Bess Chappell -- were part of the faculty. Betty also harbored a desire to live in the "wild, wild West." Esther Tombaugh Spreen enrolled at ASTC through the auspices of her brother, Clyde Tombaugh, a twenty-four-year-old researcher at Lowell Observatory, who discovered Pluto on February 18, 1930.6
Faculty recruitment proved an effective tool for generating enrollment. Deans Tom Bellwood and Minnie Lintz made a successful yearly circuit through rural Arizona, but student Bob Eunson, who would become an award-winning journalist during World War II, wins the prize as a persuasive, unofficial school spokesman. "My friend Bob Eunson came by one day in 1934," wrote John Fetterly Gault, "and invited me to come up to Flag. Ten or eleven of us 'prune pickers' trekked over from southern California in two old wrecks of cars that just barely made it. Bob loaned me a set of drums to use in the danceband [Lumberjack Collegians]."7
Although a few ASTC students could rely on their families for financial support during their college years, most had to work for room and board and tuition. Fees began at $260 for in-state expenses in 1930, dropped to $225.50 in 1933, and rose again to $279 by 1939. Some students found creative solutions to financial problems; Elsie McCauley, for example, in 1932 bartered sacks of potatoes for tuition; Rolf Larson's Holstein cow, Codera, underwrote his education.8
The part-time work program of the New Deal National Youth Administration (NYA) enabled many young people to attend school. In 1939 the NYA awarded ASTC $5,940, which supported 443 students. Undergraduates could earn ten to twenty dollars and graduate students twenty to thirty dollars per month. Students who lived off-campus were ineligible for NYA jobs on campus. Seniors were asked to give up jobs so that incoming freshmen might work. Two job sites, in particular, evoked a flood of memories among the alumni -- the dairy and the dining hall. "I worked at the dairy the last three years of my time at ASTC," James LeMar Shelley reminisced. "There were four of us involved -- two of us had a morning shift where we began milking at 5:00 A.M., and the other two an evening shift where we began milking at 5:00 P.M. Two of the cows were very difficult to milk. One of them was called Tough Teatie, which is an apt description of the problem with her." On February 10, 1933, President Gammage proudly reported in the Coconino Sun that the forty animals in the dairy herd had saved ASTC $2,606 in fiscal year 1931-32.9
Mother Hanley, whose first name, Margaret, is almost forgotten, was synonymous with the dining hall. Under her watchful eye, male student waiters, properly adorned in white aprons and jackets, served food on tables set with white linen cloths and napkins. Charles Shumway remembered that "'Mother' Hanley, matron of the dining hall ... went about her services with quiet dignity that almost inspired reverence. While lady faculty members and dorm matrons demanded good manners and conduct of the male and were seldom successful, Mother Hanley could get far better results with her quiet charm and manner." "I had to fill the sugar bowls for each table," Electa Palmer Hilton remarked. "They called me 'sugar.' The waiters teased me and kissed me in a closet until Mother Hanley told them to stop this and leave me alone." "Near the time I was about to leave because of finances I was given a 'job' in the dining hall," related Harry K. Wolf. "I took empty coal buckets downstairs, across the street, filled them and brought them back to a place near the kitchen stoves -- fifteen buckets a day." And Dorothy Fain Benatz recalled that "'Mother Hanley's boys' included [future] governor Raul Castro."
"Brother can you spare a room?" might have been the refrain for the housing situation in the early thirties. In 1933, 80 percent of students lived on campus. The dorms and small summer cottages were bursting at the seams. Students made do with makeshift accommodations in basements, the gym, janitor's quarters, the dairy barn, and even the president's home. Cottage dwellers battled notorious bedbug infestations.10
Students living outside the sheltered campus witnessed the harsher side of life. "My husband and I lived in a small trailer and parked it at Kit Carson forestry camp," related Florence Hannan Currier. "While there we saw and talked to many families who had left the dust bowl areas, many striving to find a better life. It was sad to see families on the move and in need."
The Arizona State Teachers College Bulletin, 1931-1932, stated: "Our college is small. It is not ambitious to become a large institution. We want to maintain an A grade institution in the quality of its work, its faculty, and its student body -- where a democratic atmosphere and personal contact will aid in the process of education." President Gammage, facing a $30,000 budget cut that included a 10 percent cut on all salaries above $1,200, advocated an emphasis on scholastic improvement, spirit, and morale. During his presidency, Tom Tormey stressed small classes, freedom of speech, and the importance of critical thinking as opposed to memorization. Student perceptions of how those goals were implemented varied. "We were on the quarter system and we had a great deal of assigned reading and research," said Franklin V.Jordan. But Mary Pace Allen recalled that "we did not have many if any research papers to write. Grades were given on tests. Objective tests were rather new and very popular." In Ethel McCoy Benham's opinion, "our instructors were far from top notch. Undoubtedly they were underpaid, especially the women. The relationship was rigid and dictatorial. The instruction was repetitious with too much time spent on history, and too little emphasis on possibilities for the future." By contrast, Frederick Dockstader thought that "the teaching style was informal, yet dignified, and the teaching content ranged all over the place. My education was unique, in a way, for it included much that had little to do with the course content, but broadened my outlook." Charles Fleming complained that he attended "fairy tail [sic] courses devised by 'Swivel-chair Olympians' who never taught an elementary or high school class.'11
Despite differences of opinion regarding the quality of the classroom experience, all but four alumni rated the relationship between faculty and students as good or excellent. Recurrent phrases sprinkled thoughout the questionnaires captured the sentiment: "one big family," "collegial atmosphere," "professional, caring faculty," and "they knew us by name." Students enjoyed Ida G. Wilson's progressive library program and opportunities for nontraditional, fieldwork experiences with anthropologist John McGregor or National Park Service naturalist Edwin "Eddie" McKee.12
Almost everyone identified a favorite faculty member. For Rachel M. Smith Hill, it was Edna Dotson of business education, who invited students to her home and "also spent a night in the dorm with us to attend one of our 'bull sessions.'" Esther Tombaugh Spreen shared a humorous interchange with Mary Boyer, who taught Arizona literature. " [One day a student told of] a girl whose comment [upon seeing the Grand Canyon] was 'Oh, isn't it cute.' With her brown eyes flashing, Miss Boyer snapped, 'I would have pushed her in!'" Charles Fleming lamented the dismissal of band instructor Richard J. Bordman, a self-educated emigre and Basil Rathbone look-alike from Wales, who could compose an entire overture in an evening. Fleming blamed the termination on Bordman's socialistic tendencies, which may have been of concern to President Gammage.13
A handful of campus organizations in the teens grew into thirty-six very active fraternal, scholarly, and religious groups in the thirties. The honor societies and fraternities alone constituted a veritable Greek alphabet soup: Pi Omega Pi (1931), Alpha Psi Omega (first fraternity on campus, 1929), Delta Psi Kappa (1930), Kappa Delta Pi (1930), Omicron Kappa Gamma (1929), Sigma Eta Alpha (1929), Sigma Alpha (1929), etc. Other popular groups included the Mad Hatters (women's social club), the Arizona Playmakers, and the Chain Gang (men's service organization). The debaters, under the direction of Mary Hill, frequently won regional contests.14
The most revered organization, however, was the Hiking Club. Formally established in 1927, the more-than-200-member club capitalized on the "wonderful scenery so close to our college." Members enjoyed hikes to Walnut Canyon, the Ice Caves, Oak Creek, Sunset Crater, and the club's permanent camp at Phantom Ranch in the Grand Canyon. On May 9, 1934, club president Art Foster and chaperon Florence Laird led an ambitious hike to Betatakin and Keet Seel Ruins where the group "slept on the rooftops on the ancient dwelling."15
Despite their isolation, ASTC students and Flagstaff residents found plenty of opportunity for cultural pursuits. On Monday, August 13, 1934, students and faculty staged the first performance of an annual pageant, The Legend of the Great Peaks, in the pines one and a half miles east of town. Dr. Eldon A. Ardrey conducted the ASTC choir on April 21, 1935, in the first of many national radio broadcasts of sunrise Easter services at the south rim of the Grand Canyon. Not all dramatic endeavors proved so successful. Charles Fleming recounted a German troupe's performance of the Passion Play. "They were short on actors," he said, "so asked if members of the student body would fill in the parts. Andrew Wolf and I were selected to be scribes in King Herod's court. Jim Dixon was to take the part of John the Baptist. When John was supposed to wash the feet of Christ, he missed his cue which infuriated the production manager. The manager began hurling cuss words behind the scenes at Jim. This tirade could also be heard by the audience which became shocked. Many left and others broke out laughing. For Andy, Jim, and myself it was our last attempt at acting."16
"Give them the ax, give them the ax, give them the ax where? Right in the neck, right in the neck, right in the neck here!" Edgar Burkhart's septuagenarian voice rang out from a 1994 homecoming float as he taught onlookers his 1937 yell. On that crisp October day, Edgar connected the enchanted crowd with Lumberjack spirit past. In 1932, when ASTC beat the University of Arizona football team 7-6 (the first time ever), that same spirit moved President Gammage to smack the head of an unsuspecting spectator and scream, "How do you like that for apples?"17
In celebration, a twenty-five-pound, pure Arizona copper ax was forged, symbolizing the strength of the school's football, basketball, baseball, track, tennis, and boxing teams. On November 9,1933, six football players from Tempe -- now Arizona State University -- stole the ax. The culprits were captured after a thirty-mile chase to Williams. As punishment, ASTC students treated the thieves to generous doses of blue and yellow (the school colors) paint over their bodies and a parade through town. "We done it to put some pep in them guys down at Tempe," remarked one of the boys. The students admired their spunk; President Tormey declined to press changes.18
ASTC, as part of the Border Intercollegiate Athletic Conference, supported its sports program through a seven-dollar activity fee. Alumnus Louis Beck Lancaster noted that no intercollege athletic opportunities existed for women. Students administered the program until 1935, when the North Central Association recommended that control be transferred to the president.19
Individual sporting activities like swimming, hunting, and fishing offered relief from academic stress. In the winter, students could ice skate, ski, and toboggan. Adventuresome souls attached canvas to boards to create "ice boats" and blew across Lake Mary at thirty-five miles per hour. Outdoor activities were not risk free. Tragedy struck on February 28,1930, when student Jack Wilmoth was killed while being pulled on a toboggan behind a car.20
Local citizens interacted with ASTC students by attending plays or athletic events. Many families hired coeds as babysitters or housekeepers. The college contributed approximately $500,000 to Flagstaff's economy in 1938. President Tormey facetiously estimated that female students expended $1,500 a year on candy alone! Appreciative of a congenial relationship, on January 13, 1932, the faculty entertained 200 townspeople with dancing and bridge in a festooned Ashurst Auditorium.21
Although Charlotte Mills Fern felt dorm students ostracized town students, most alumni characterized the town-and-gown relationship as positive. Harry K. Wolf, for example, recalled that "there were good times when the city in the evenings would turn on the fire hydrants so the water could freeze and students could ice skate. We used to snow sled down the hill in town." And Charles Shumway remarked that "the Town Jacks [athletic supporters] helped integrate students with townspeople. I can recall no problems, although undoubtedly some of the boisterous natures of some of us may have aroused wrathful indignation on occasions when celebrated athletic victories were carried on into the night." Youthful exuberance could lead to conflict. The Chain Gang, a group of thirteen male students charged with maintaining school traditions, would pilfer Flagstaff outhouses to feed the pregame, pep-rally bonfires. One irate resident once arrived with the sheriff to reclaim his property before it was incinerated. The Chain Gang had to reset the outhouse in question, and the angry owner "tried it out" to be certain it had been replaced correctly.22
Like all colleges, ASTC had its share of traditions. The initiation of freshmen did not elicit fond memories among the alumni. "When I was a freshman I had to be a 'Greenie,'" Electa Palmer Hilton remembered. "The upper class of the year were in charge. I had to have a green cap and put my hair inside the cap. I looked awful!" Charles Fleming also recalled the green caps: "We were never to be seen without them. If the ultimatum was disobeyed . . . you were reported to the hazing committee for punishment . . . three unbearable swats with a large paddle across the buttok [sic]. I had one such treatment and was hardly able to walk. Fortunately, Si Flores, a senior who was also from Douglas, took me under his wing and saw to it I was not further mistreated." Other traditions were more enjoyable. In 1930, male students painted the first 250-foot by 300-foot "A" on Mount Widen. Beginning in 1929, homecoming activities reflected various themes, such as hobos, the circus, or logging. In 1934, Queen Helen Gibbons and King Chester Fuller rode proudly atop borrowed logging wheels for the first time. The logging-wheel tradition continues today.23
Limited finances meant students sought simple pleasures. Only one or two could afford an automobile. Walter Cain, a football player from Jerome known as "Hippo," drove a Chevrolet coupe. Because women usually had more money, they invited men to movies. A nickle, if one had it, would buy a cup of coffee or a bearclaw at the Campus Inn. Young Cinderellas danced with their beaux at the Route 66 Museum Club, then raced back to the dorms to beat the 11:00 P.M. curfew. The cider at a campus dance was spiked a time or two, despite the specter of immediate expulsion for alcohol consumption. All-college picnics were also popular.24
Oddly, the glamour of 1930s Hollywood became a part of the ASTC experience. Andy Devine, who had attended the college in 1926, often returned to campus with "intriguing" young starlets. He took time from his movie career and Jack Benny's NBC radio program to select the La Cuesta yearbook queens from photographs. One lucky queen, Julie Osborne (1938), received a personally guided tour of Universal Studios from Andy. In 1939, Erroll Flynn and Randolph Scott, who were filming Virginia City near Flagstaff, selected Alice Moore as queen.25
No discussion of college life would be complete without a love story. Alumni Leonard Thompson Spooner shared his, reminiscing that, "while carrying the mail [from the post office in downtown Flagstaff] and distributing [it] to the dorms, I met a beautiful blond in Morton Hall named Lucretia Butler. She was Snow Queen in 1933 and 1934. We dated for the rest of our time and after graduation. We were married in 1936 because she was helping her brother to attend veternary [sic] school in Kansas and at that time married women could not teach in Scottsdale, so we had to wait."26
Unquestionably, the Great Depression colored all that these ASTC students undertook. "The whole sociological picture, both in school and out, seemed to carry an air of 'question' about the future -- insecurity -- lack of long-term planning," recollected Leo Clifford Bowers. Most alumni emphasized the fact that they had to work, for money was scarce. "It was less expensive for our parents to keep us in college than to be at home unemployed," Dorothy Fain Benatz explained. "Almost all of the students worked for their room and board." Sherman Waldrip recalled how he "struggled to just stay in school with virtually no financial backing. No clothes. No lab fees. No spending money. I became very conservative and have remained so."
Bank closures took their toll. Esther Tombaugh Spreen told how "Flagstaff had only one bank. It was used by practically everyone from businesses and institutions down to students. Sometime during that 1931-32 year the bank suddenly closed its doors. Flagstaff came to a virtual standstill. Students lost their college expense money." John Moore agreed: "I had been left funds to put me through Ann Arbor, but bank closures left us penniless. Changed my entire life." All of the alumni experienced long nights, worrying about whether their major would ensure employment in an unstable world.27
A remarkably large percentage of ASTC graduates found hope in a desperate situation. Many appreciated the opportunity to get an education. Their level of pride in accomplishment was high as a result of financial struggle. A cooperative atmosphere seems to have pervaded campus, epitomized by words like friendship, respect, and closeness. This is the part of life, be it mellow anecdote or not, that the alumni have chosen to remember.28
Campus conditions had begun to improve by academic year 1938-39. The total budget crept up to $213,635 from a low of $158,324 in 1934-35. The dormitories boasted new additions; steam heat replaced the coal furnaces. Library holdings doubled in nine years to 28,374 items. The Business Department found enough money to purchase a long-awaited Dictaphone. In the fall of 1939, enrollment swelled to 545 students.29
Perhaps more indicative of the end of hard times was the announcement in the Coconino Sun on September 28, 1940: COLLEGE SELLS DAIRY HERD. President Tormey had negotiated the sale of the college's twenty-nine Holstein cows to a Flagstaff firm. Tormey claimed that maintaining the herd was no longer cost effective and cited the health hazard posed by unpasteurized milk. But maybe, just maybe, Dr. Tormey's true motivation was his intention to convert the cow pasture into a golf course, which never materialized.
In 1995, the 1930s graduates still lauded a college that provided financial support in the midst of the depression and a scholarly community that was close-knit, tolerant, and self-reliant. Dr. Platt Cline characterized ASTC as an institution that survived against the odds, one that continually skirmished with a skeptical legislature and competed with sister colleges in southern Arizona. He rightly credits strong leadership and united community support for the school's success.
Yet, the reason the institution has thrived must also be attributed to former students and faculty. They cared about ASTC then, just as they cared enough to write sixty years later. In 1931, Ella Lee Marr sequestered herself in a room in Old Main and penned this prophetic line, part of her prize-winning alma mater song: "When the wind whispers down through the pine trees, my thoughts ever return to you." Her heartfelt words remain true for many alumni of the "Mountain Campus."30
1 Questionnaires may he found in "Northern Arizona University -- Alumni," Vertical Files, Special Collections and Archives Department (SCA) Cline Library Northern Arizona University. Hereinafter cited as "NAU-Alumni " Coconino Sun, October 2, ]931, May 26, 1939. Many of the Coconino Sun articles cited in this paper- are referenced in the Melvin T. Hutchinson Collection, SCA. See Melvin Hutchinson, The Making of Northern Arizona University (Flagstaff: Northern Arizona University, 1972).
2 Studs Terkel, Hard Times: An Oral History of the Great Depression (New York: Pantheon Books, 1970), pp. xi-9, 346-49.
3 Coconino Sun, March 21, 1930, April 22, 19332: Platt Cline, Mountain Campus: The Story of Northern Arizona University (Flagstaff: Northland Press, 1983), p. 358.
4 Coconino Sun April 21, 28, 1933.
5 See also Charles S. Shumway and Elizabeth Duggan Webb, "NAU -- Alumni.'' Of the seventy-two respondents who identified their religious affiliation, the highest percentage belonged to either the LDS or the Episcopal Church A little less than half were born in Arizona.
6 "NAU -- Alumni'; ASTC, The Pine, April 7, 1936. For information about Pluto, see the Coconino Sun, March 13, 1930.
7 See also Electa Palmer Hilton, Jeff Murray Ferris, and Cecilia Radetic Miller, "NAU -- Alumni."
8 Coconino Sun, October 4 and 7, 1932; Cline, Mountain Campus, p. 367.
9 See also Mary Pace Allen, Cecilia Radetic Miller, Leonard Thomas Miller, Charles S. Shumway Esther Tombaugh Spreen, and John C. White, "NAU -- Alumni''; Coconino Sun, August 18, 1933, May 12, 1936, September 8, 1939.
10 See also Charles B. Fleming and James LeMar Shelley, "NAU -- Alumni; Arizona State Teachers College Bulletin, 1931-1932 (Flagstaff: ASTC, March-April 1931); Coconino Sun, October 10, 1930, February 20, 1931, April 28, 1933.
11 In 1937, the legislature authorized ASTC to develop a Master's-level graduate program in education. Leo Bowers and Jeff Murrary Ferris, "NAU -- Alumni"; Coconino Sun, September 4, 1931, May 6, 1932, June 10, 1938.
12 The Pine, November 5, 1935; Coconino Sun, June 6, 1930, April 19, 1935, May 12, 1939.
13 Coconino Sun, September 30, 1938. Leo Bowers grieved for Dr. W. R. Skidmor, who accidentally and fatally shot himself in 1933 while duck hunting. Of the alumni who responded to the questionnaire forty-seven had completed their bachelor's degree and twenty-seven went on to receive a graduate degree A full 80 percent became teachers or educational administrators, "NAU -- Alumni."
14 ASTC, LA Cuesta (Yearbook), 1930; Arizona State Teachers College Bulletin, 1932-1933; Irene McDonald, "NAU -- Alumni''; Coconino Sun, March 8, 1935. The yearbook was not published from 1935 to 1937 owing to economic constrains.
15 La Cuesta 1927; "Northern Arizona University -- Hiking Club," Vertical File, SCA Coconino Sun, April 20, 1934.
16 Coconino Sun, August 10, 1934, April 19, 1935, April 26, 1935.
17 Coconino Sun, November 4, 1932.
18 Coconino Sun, November 10, 1933.
19 The Pine, January 29, 1935; Coconino Sun, April 17, 1931.
20 Charles B. Fleming, Harry K. Wolf, "NAU-Alumni"; Coconino Sun, Febuary 28, 1930.
21 Cecelia Radetic Miller, ''NAU-Alumni'; Coconino Sun, January 15 and December 23, 1932, December 30, 1938.
22 See also Charles B. Fleming, Stanton Wallace, "NAU -- Alumni."
23 "Northern Arizona University -- Student Life," Vertical File, SCA; The Pine, October 9, 1934, October 20, 1936, January 19, 1937; Coconino Sun, October 24, 1930.
24 See also Franklin D. Allhands, Leo Bowers, Irene McDonald, Cecelia Radetic Miller, "NAU -- Alumni''; "NAU -- Student Life." Martha Washington Anderson noted that women had no fear of walking to the movies or shopping unescorted.
25 The Pine, February 2, March 15, April 19, 1938; Coconino Sun, November 20, 1931, May 16, 1932, November 17, 1939.
26 Coconino Sun, February 24, 1933, January 26, 1934. All but three of the questionnaire respondents had married. Only two had divorced.
27 See also Charles S. Shumway, "NAU -- Alumni." The state banking department closed the Arizona Bank (Flagstaff) on Friday, June 24, 1932. Platt Cline, Mountain Town: Flagstaff 's First Century (Flagstaff: Northland Publishing, 1994), p. 302.
28 Franklin V Jordan, Cecelia Radetic Miller, Ida Mae Fredericks Nowabbi Murdock, and Ira A. Murphy, "NAU -- Alumni."
29 Coconino Sun, March 16, 1937, May 19, 1939; Cline, Mountain Campus, pp. 170-71, 276, 358.
30 Ella Lee Marr to John Vaughn, October 9, 1979, in "Northern Arizona University, Flagstaff, Arizona -- Alma Mater Song," Vertical File, SCA.
CREDITS-All photographs are courtesy of Cline Library, Special Collections Northern Arizona University.
Permission to present this electronic version of I REMEMBER Depression-Era Students at Arizona State Teachers College was granted by the author and the Arizona Historical Society.