Richard Couper, trustee and a 1947 graduate of Hamilton College, delivered the Class & Charter Day Address on Friday, May 7, 2004. His address was titled "The Third Time Around." The complete text follows:
Madame President, distinguished platform guests, members of the faculty, students, friends.
I cannot resist one presidential comment; it is a matter of historical record that between 1812 and 1833 the trustees of Hamilton College offered the presidency to seven different individuals each of whom declined. I think I express the gratitude of all here that you, Madame President, did not decline, further that from the start you were the unanimous choice of the search committee, an occurrence for which we are all deeply grateful.
I do observe that I first recited on this platform in the fall of 1940 in a mandatory freshman-sophomore declamation class. In those days my knees knocked in the key of C. Recently I had both knees replaced with the result that they now knock in the key of E flat. A new tone is welcome.
As I am sure you have heard from tiresome ancients like me, public speaking was mandatory for each of four undergraduate years. My view is that there was virtue in requiring each of us to appear before our peers, but I must say, the courses were not well taught, and there was no requirement that we say anything substantive or memorable. That we had to learn in later life, sometimes harshly.
This is the 192nd year of Hamilton College. This is the 55th Class & Charter Day occasion, a day on which we celebrate chartering by the Board of Regents of the University of the State of New York, May 26, 1812, when, in the language of the day, the College was "en grafted" on the Hamilton-Oneida Academy. But the real celebration is the honoring of faculty and students who are especially cited for their achievements and very deservedly so.
With special enthusiasm I cheer all of you; this is your day, your occasion.
President Robert Ward McEwen, the 14th president of the College, was the instigator of Class & Charter Day in something like its present form with the injunction that the speaker should focus on history, preferably on aspect or aspects of the history of the College. The roster of presenters includes many lustrous figures, academics and historians, plus others with close Hamilton ties. My first appearance was in 1954, a second in 1994 at which time I was guaranteed a further appearance in 40 years. However, President Stewart and I had a look at my last annual physical report and decided to speed things up.
As a kid of 81, I continue to marvel at my mother's Class & Charter Day presentation at 97, especially because I am acutely mindful of Dag Hammarskjöld's observation, "Time goes by, reputation increases, ability declines." And I am ancient enough to appreciate fully the late George Burns quip, "I am so old I can remember when the air was clean and sex was dirty."
The always reliable OED has a series of offerings re: tradition, "the action of transmitting or 'handing down' or fact of being handed down, from one to another or from generation to generation transmission of statements, beliefs, rules, customs, or the like especially by word of mouth."
I don't think we need to reinstitute nefarious past traditions, but Class & Charter Day does pass the test - 55 years - filling a worthy, laudatory purpose; truly a tradition. One of my all-time favorite Hamilton alumni felt so strongly about traditions that he recommended a standing committee on traditions, the function of which would be to recommend the establishment of traditions to be sure we had the right ones.
As to today's presentation, I decided to focus on significant dates in the history of the hilltop and relate these to those dates in the history of our country. To use the inevitable phrasing employed on history quizzes over the years I shall do some comparing and contrasting. Possible consideration are the following:
1793 - the charter date of the Hamilton-Oneida Academy - our origin.
1812 - the charter date of Hamilton College.
1820 - the class of my great-great-great-grandfather Charles Avery.
1864 - the class of Elihu Root, Hamilton's most distinguished graduate.
1892 - the arrival of President Stryker, he being the president who served the longest in the history of the College - 25 years, also the year of graduation of my grandfather, Walter Thomas Couper. President Stewart has only 24 years to go to match the record, and 25 to exceed it.
1920 - my father, Edgar W. Couper's class.
1944 - my own class year.
1962 - the sesquicentennial year of the College.
Finally 1968 - entry of the first Kirkland College class.
My mother was a Clintonian brought up in many associations with Hamilton. She possessed a wealth of College lore, much of it focused on the faculty. A favorite of hers related to the distinguished professor of English literature who wrote in the margin of a freshman's composition, "verbose and needlessly profuse." Were I to attempt to treat all of the dates mentioned just now, I should be guilty of being both verbose and profuse, so I have selected rather arbitrarily, mindful of time constraints. The dates selected are these:
1820
1892
1968
If I survive an adequate number of years and today receive a passing grade so that another appearance will occur, I do have a suitable subject already selected, i.e. treatment of the years 1793, 1812, 1864, 1920, and 1962.
With utmost reluctance and entirely for reasons of time constraints I eliminated 1793, the charter year of the Hamilton-Oneida Academy. This was the year in which Congress charged Hamilton with "corruption and peculation" with nine resolutions introduced on this subject, some of which passed. Historian Edward Channing observed of this year, "intoxication was regarded rather as an accomplishment than a disgrace." But I must not engage further in praeteritio; with distress I omit 1793. And so to 1820, the year in which my quite remarkable great-great-great-grandfather Charles Avery graduated from Hamilton. In fact, graduating with distinction, he served the College for 34 years as a professor of chemistry. He helped the College by proving to be a successful fundraiser, served briefly as acting president, a genre with which I can associate. His autobiography, never published but available in type script, was written when he was 87; I therefore have six more years in which to take careful notes before beginning. The 11th of 14 children, he was farmed out at age eight by his impecunious family. In 1814 he enlisted in the militia to fight the British at Sachetts Harbor. Determined to get an education, he entered Hamilton in 1816. He was a polymath in that not only did he teach chemistry but at various times algebra, geometry, calculus, geology, French, and philosophy. He received national notice in his pioneering work in photography as portrayed in a recent exhibit in the Emerson Gallery. His daughter, Delia, married Othneil S. Williams, my great-great-grandfather, who went to Hamilton and built what is now the Alexander Hamilton Inn in 1832.
A word about the College in 1820. Henry Davis, who had turned down the Yale presidency, had left the Middlebury presidency to become Hamilton's second president, was in office. The faculty consisted of three professors, two tutors and two recent graduates. The students numbered 93. Davis, who got into a struggle with his trustees but survived, was a noted disciplinarian as all students were acutely aware. There were no electives; the curriculum was turgid. Entry at age 15 or 16 was not uncommon. A relevant comment on curricular liveliness comes from Eliphalet Knott, president of Union for 62 years. Typically as president he taught the mandated senior course on moral philosophy. When in his 37th year he was asked how frequently he changed his lecture notes, "Never," said he, "there is no need."
On the national scene James Monroe, described in the DAB as "lacking the qualities of high imagination, unpretentious in appearance, far from brilliant in speech, without any genuine graces, Monroe yet attained distinction," served as President, in fact was re-elected in 1820 with only one dissenting vote in the electoral college. By this time the two party system had disappeared, that is the Federalists were gone. The year 1820 is noteworthy on the national scene because of the Missouri Compromise, which, like all compromises, satisfied no one.
Historian Edward Channing makes a series of observations about the year 1820. Many states had lotteries to support education. Of the 9 ½ million Americans, about a quarter lived west of the Atlantic seaboard. Channing remarks on "A most appalling consumption of alcoholic stimulants throughout the country and among all classes of people."
A concluding comment re: 1820. One more delicious description of Monroe offered by Allan Nevins, "Tall, awkward James Monroe who presented that not unusual combination, a commonplace man with a highly distinguished public career."
1892, my second selection, is worth notice for events on the Hill and nationally. In this year my grandfather, Walter Thomas Couper, graduated from Hamilton as salutatorian. He served briefly in the library and then for several years as a teacher of Greek and German at a salary of $875 a year plus room. Of great consequence was the arrival of Melancthon Woolsey Stryker, Hamilton's 9th president. Not only was he the 9th president, but the 9th ordained minister to serve. He left a quantity of imprints including a book of poems, several of them being in Latin, the lyrics for some 20 songs, the most famous being Carissima.
President Stryker, Class of 1872, was a man of great energy, an activist. When he discovered the College color was pink, he immediately ordered that the colors be buff and blue, thus the Continentals. No consulting trustees, staff, faculty, students, or alumni. Prior to this decision the Hamilton Literary Monthly referring to Intercollegiate Field Day recorded "the grounds were filled with old Hamilton men who were proud to wear the pink." And at about the time of the election of President Stryker, the Literary Magazine had this choice entry, "the College choir is very much like the baseball team. Both have good material but they do not play together. They both need practice."
Stryker was a one man band; in addition to quantities of other responsibilities he was the Admissions Officer. An eager prospective freshman wrote to Prex that he wanted to come to Hamilton in the worst possible way. The President immediately shot back, "Try the O & W;" this being a favorite story of my mother's.
At the time of the president's arrival, the faculty had 17 members including Abel Grovenor Hopkins, Dean and a relative of mine. One Hamilton publication had this entry regarding President Stryker, "Dr. Stryker is a man of deep learning and wide experience - in short, a progressive man. He is in thorough sympathy with the students. He loves the College."
Mr. Stryker served for 25 years; longer by far than any other president. In his late years he fomented a quantity of dissensions, the most noteworthy being an intemperate attack on President Woodrow Wilson. The collection of disagreements led to his departure in 1917.
Nationally speaking, 1892 was an interesting year. Grover Cleveland, a New Yorker and sometime governor of New York, was re-elected president after a four-year interlude. He was a Clintonian in that in the 1850's he lived here and attended the Clinton Grammar School, and in 1887 he returned to Clinton for the local centennial celebration.
Cleveland ran on a pro-gold, anti-free-silver platform. Just ahead the panic of 1893 was brewing. The infamous Homestead Strike of 1892 tarred the Republicans and helped the Cleveland election substantially, although the central issue was clearly the tariff. Interesting to us today is that Cleveland, a Democrat, was the candidate of business. Noteworthy in this election year of 1892 was relatively speaking a strong third party, the People's Party with James Weaver as candidate. This was the beginning of the Populist Party described by Allan Nevins as "the most colorful of American political parties."
It is time for the final entry, 1968. On the national scene 1968 was a parlous and contentious year. James Patterson in his superb book Grand Expectations labels chapter 22 "The Most Turbulent Year." In mid-March of that year, Robert Kennedy announced that he would seek the presidency; before the year was out came the unbelievable awfulness of his assassination. This, too, was the dreadful time of the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. The sitting President, Lyndon B. Johnson, pronounced himself, "I shall not seek and I will not accept the nomination of my party for another term as your president." Ironically, listening to his adversaries and his advisers, LBJ wanted to end the Vietnam War; it went on for another five years. Humphrey was the democratic candidate, Johnson's support was tepid. The upshot was that Nixon was elected. Nixon was described by Eric Foner as "a responsible conservative and an irresponsible demagogue." He was elected by the slimmest margin since 1912. Specifically the vote was 31.8 million as against 31.3 million providing almost the same mandate enjoyed by the current occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. 1968 quite significantly witnessed the Republican shift from the eastern establishment to southern and western conservatives.
Prior to the national election this was the year of the feral, inexcusable behavior of the Chicago police in quelling the protests of Jerry Rubin and Abbie Hoffman who with their companions were identified initially as the Chicago Eight. This unseemly occurrence took place at the time of the Democratic convention in Chicago. Mayor Daly, who ordered the police behavior, was excoriated by many. Very likely the police incident cost Humphrey the election.
Of course this year 1968 was the year of the infamous TET Offensive, a year in which Vietnam was on the minds of virtually all Americans. During the presidential campaign both Nixon and Humphrey were ambivalent in views about the Vietnam War. A reviewer of Mark Kurlansky's book entitled "1968: The Year That Rocked the World" observed, "Technological advance meant that a mass audience could for the first time see history in the making or at least within 24 hours. Once America's cameras focused on Vietnam, its war was lost."
In that most turbulent year quiet did not exist on the university front, Columbia being the most notable example of turbulence. Mark Rudd, student leader, successfully organized a series of protests. He was adroit; the university was woeful and inept in response. Long after this time I sat on a board with Grayson Kirk, Columbia's president in the troubles. A decent man, but I think he had no sense at all of what was happening. David Truman, provost of the university, did understand but was unsuccessful in quieting the disturbed university. I did have lunch and a long talk with Truman many years after the hellish time. In the year 1968 my late father, Class of 1920, then Chancellor of the Board of Regents, received an honorary degree from Columbia. He was asked to give the commencement speech but refused, rightfully sensing that the speaker should be someone who had been in the heat of battle. The speaker selected was Richard Hofstadter, described by a colleague as, "the finest and also the most humane historical intelligence of our generation." I was there for the occasion. During his delivery Hofstadter wept occasioned by the grief he felt for the tragedy of his university. In his speech, Hofstadter observed, "How can it not go on? What kind of people would we be if we allowed this center of our culture and our hope to languish and fail?"
But what about our hilltop in 1968, our usually quiet hilltop relatively speaking? A series of significant events took place in 1968. Noteworthy was the opening of Kirkland College, the origins of which began with deliberations of the first ever Hamilton trustee long range planning committee in 1961. In the spring of the year, following two years of my acting presidency, John Wesley Chandler was inaugurated as Hamilton's 15th president. Students organized sit-ins protesting the presence of military recruiters on the campus, this being a reflection of increasing national anti-war sentiment. President Chandler announced that the College would financially support students who needed legal help when punished by draft boards regarding protests.
1968 was the year of the filming of the Sterile Cuckoo on this campus. Author of the novel with that title was John Nichols of the Class of 1962. It was in this year that fraternities were notably facing declining membership, and coincidentally this was the year in which the construction of the Bundy dorms began.
It seemed to me appropriate on this third time around to offer observations on segments of history here and nationally, to suggest that there was some nexus between the two, that we were not always in splendid isolation.
In closing I wish to emphasize again the hearty congratulations which are so much deserved for all faculty and student prize winners. I salute all of you and warmly.
And especially I salute our 19th president, Joan Stewart, on this her first Class & Charter Day. She is a warm, welcome, and sensitive presence among us.
This is not a hortatory occasion, that description being reserved for most commencement deliveries, so my conclusion is only mildly hortatory. In 1968 in an address to the student body from this very platform I observed, "We live in hope. If you are diligent, search hard and fairly, you will find several people on this campus over thirty whom you can trust." My advice - circumspice.
