With lots of class
At Harvard University in Cambridge, Mass. replacements, but Pusey is willing to take on this extra effort and has found the the professors come back mentally refreshed and refreshing.
Pusey's interest in Lawrence shows up in less orthodox areas than his desire for a top-notch faculty. Before Pusey's administration the college buildings were institutionalized inside and out. His first project was refurbishing the dilapidated Science building, much in need of repair but not a cause of concern to the trustees Pusey took them on a brief inspection tour, pointing to the ancient, inadequate facilities. "The trustees thought they were lucky to get out alive," Mrs. Pusey said, and the funds were forthcoming. The building was completed rebuilt within its frame and Pusey picked the wall colors as he does for any new building. The walls of the main hall were quickly labelled "Pusey pink" a very popular hue with the President that year. Similarly, when the Worcester Art Center was constructed in 1905, Pusey chose most of the furniture. One overstuffed barrel chair, comfortable but hard to get out of, was dubbed "Pusey's Folly" by faculty members who had been trapped in it.
Student Union
Pusey's artistic talents reached their peak in his decoration of the Student Memorial Union. A spacious lounge with picture windows overlooking the Fox River below, a moderately-priced grill open 12 hours a day, and a Terrace Room for dances are the Union's chief attractions, and they are strange ones. Some on the faculty think the lounge is a little too inviting and the dances too frequent for a seriously scholastic college, but Pusey and the students are well pleased with their new building.
In politics, Pusey and the students also agree, with the professors again dissenting. Pusey, a Republican but not formally, and the student body, supported Eisenhower in the fall. The faculty preferred Stevenson. But on one point all are united: Lawrence and its President have only contempt for Wisconsin's junior Senator. During the campaign, Pusey endorsed "The McCarthy Record," an objective condemnation of the Senator and his tactics. As one professor said, "Anyone can be anti-McCarthy in Cambridge, Massachusetts, but for the President of the college located in Appleton, Wisconsin--McCarthy's stronghold--to sign that report, well, that took nerve"--especially since some of Lawrence's trustees are avid McCarthyites. On the whole however, relations between town and gown have been unstrained. Townspeople interested in the college often attend the school's plays and open lectures. The rest seem to have forgotten that Lawrence lies at the end of College Avenue.
The real measure of Pusey as a president, however, comes not from faculty or townspeople, but from the students, and they are enthusiastic. Pusey is not a college character; he is far from backslapping and his relations with students are somewhat distant. But they soon realize that his is Pusey's personal reserve and no indication of coolness toward them. He is appreciative of wit and a clever turn of phrase, but he is essentially a serious person. One long-time friend remarks that he always sees the grave side of things first.
An Uproar
A tall, tanned man with chestnut colored hair and a friendly but not flashly smile, Pusey speaks earnestly and fluently. Another friend has said, however, "There's going to be an uproar when he gives his first speech at Harvard. His speeches always rend well, but Pusey doesn't. His voice is flat and a little monotonous, but he does get his ideas across--and he has the ideas in the first place."
And Mrs. Pusey remembers as the most frightening night of herl ife, the first time Pusey went to Milwaukee to address the Lawrence alumni. He had expected a small group sitting around a table, informally taking over the college. Instead he found a huge banquet room with hundreds of guests expecting a prepared and polished speech from the new president. He had none, but only he and Mrs. Pusey realized it. "We often think," she says, "if we could get through that night, nothing else would ever be too difficult."
Despite his reserve, Pusey is universally acclaimed a "good sport" by the students. A few carp that hi is too strict a disciplinarian, but concede that regulations at Lawrence are tougher than at most colleges and that someone must enforce them. At convocations, he unloosens his dignity a bit and takes part in the skits. In "The Shooting of Dangerous Dan McGrew," a recent offering, Pusey donned a false mustache and celluloid pop eyes to play a bartender.
Pusey's air of friendliness without forced joviality fits perfectly at Lawrence. The students are a homogeneous group--a little too similar and politically unconscious according to some of the faculty--and they like Pusey's restrained manner. "We're not sophisticated here," one girl said, and the undergraduates pitching pennies in front of their fraternity house seem to confirm her view.
But in their conversation the students are more mature than they might appear from a distance in their shirt-tails and bluejeans. "We get excited about learning," said one, and meant it. The intellectual counts foremost at Lawrence and the students support Pusey completely on his vehemently amateur-athletic policy. Lawrence belongs to the Mid West Conference, which includes schools such as Carleton, Rippon, and Grinnell. Pusey, while President of the Mid West President's Conference, balked at the growing professionalism at Beloit College, one of the members. Finally Beloit's basketball team played in Madison Square Garden, and that was the limit of endurance for Pusey and the Conference. Beloit was bounced from the league, and though this did not make Pusey a favorite on the Beloit campus, it was another instance of enforcing the rules.
Enjoyment Above All
The Vikings, Lawrence's athletic teams, have good sports records, especially in football. The Union holds cases of trophies, each awarded to a team who enjoyed its sport--that enjoyment, to Pusey, is the measure of a successful athletic program. He opposes any recruiting of athletes, and students attest that the quparterback is given no special aid or favors.
In fact, Lawrence has little financial aid for anyone. The largest scholarships, about the cost of tuition, are awarded to four students in each class. These awards are financed personally by one of the trustees and could be withdrawn at any time. The other scholarships are rarely large enough to attract any but the high school graduate already interested in Lawrence. As a result, Lawrence is free from athletic subsidization, but also from a diversity of student backgrounds. What one professor calls the "country club back-ground" of the overage Lawrentian, however, refers only to his father's income, not to a snobbish attitude on the campus. Lawrence instead prides itself on friendliness. "Sure, we know just about everybody on the campus," one fraternity member said, "and if we don't, we say hello anyway"
The fraternities and sororities occupy a