Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2009 with funding from Lyrasis Members and Sloan Foundation http://www.archive.org/details/recordofclass1963have recard ^63 -^ < ! J \ [T N A r Scott Gillam Editor-In-Chief V Putnam Barber Managing Editor Art Director Terry Belanger \C David Hunt John Major Associate Editors W u John Heuss Business Manager William D. Y. Rich I Griffith Smith Harold Walker Photographers M V \ A r A / ^- / v^M ^ "> 4j iv'j Yearbooks, like old violins or postage stamps, generally increase in value as the years go by, or so we'd like to believe. This much is sure: yearbooks have next to no value until they are published; everybody eventually seems to want one, but hardly anybody wants to work at producing it. Having accepted these facts of life, this year's staff, after the usual procrastinations, resigned itself to producing for posterity. The results of our labors will probably seem hopelessly quaint fifty years from now. how- ever vital and serious the issues and events reported here appear to us today. But that is no matter. Yearbooks are by definition timebound and transient. If we have caught for a moment and held some of what was Haverford College 1963 in such a way that fifty years from now, this moment leaps to some life, however quaint by comparison, we will be happy. Some of the articles in the following pages are more subjective than those usually found in yearbooks (Credits for such articles are on page 174). They simply came out that way, and since ultimately the opinions expressed are borne out of love rather than malice it seemed silly to change them. If you disagree, there is always the News. Here's the Record. We hope you like it. As you wilt see jrom the Table of Contents, the 1963 Record is arranged pretty conventionally—however, there are no captions under the pictures. Captions will be found, instead, beginning on page 168. €*€0nients DEDICATION 6 366 WEST LANCASTER AVENUE 7 EDITORIAL 13 ADMINISTRATION 14 FACULTY 24 SENIORS 48 CLASSES 86 CLASS HISTORY 94 ACTIVITIES 98 CLASS NIGHT 132 SPORTS 136 SENIOR DIRECTORY 1S4 CAPTIONS 168 STAFF 174 •^'--^ Virsmia Kline / / Yes, Santa Glaus, there is a Virginia. Laboring long after hours in her Robeils Hall workshop, using those dull and tedious tools, the transcript and the course card, Haverford's new assistant registrar neverthe- less maintains an admirable mien and a re- markable interest in the people behind all those papers. Her handling of final exam distribution and collection under the new system was a model of efficiency, and her memory of the numerical results of those exams was accurate, sometimes embarrass- ingly so. It is with a sense of grateful appre- ciation for a task well done that the 1963 Record is dedicated to Virginia Kline. Page 6 r • ••^,7 ! >vr^ ^A--4 .?•-' m '. *< ^^r^. ll 366 West Lancaster Avenue Haverford, Pennsylvania One of the more obvious things that lingers on after a Haverford ed- ucation is the place itself, and more intangibly what I call the spirit of the place. Those of us who developed while here the bad habit of shuf- fling automaton-like from dormitory to dining room to library and back again may not know what I am talking about. It is simply the beauty of the campus, in all its nooks and crannies, many of which were virtually ignored by most of the student body. All too often the only people even to encounter the beauty of the nature walk and the duck pond, for ex- ample, were the cross country runners. The campus had a personality of its own which was perhaps best un- derstood by those who knew where to look for it and who had not become inured to its attraction through pressing familiarity. Often the fresh eyes of a visitor to Haverford were the most observant. C. P. Snow caught something of the campus' vital character. In a recent Record he described it as "one of the most visually attractive anywhere; like a Rowlandson Page 8 landscape, with just a framework of formal elegance under its easiness." Sir Charles' discerning' contrast between the formal and the easy may be extended to describe our whole life here, with the campus and its en- virons as a metaphor for our existence. In its "easy" aspect, the campus is arcadian, idyllic, unreal at times. On a fine spring day it seemed to exude an intoxicating liquor all its own, at night a heady, dark brew of quiet delight. But these things ended all too abruptly when one was thrust back into the more formal rigor of study. Our life here was a perpetual round of sensation and analysis, communion and isolation, reflection and politic regurgitation, and the spirit of the campus itself reflected these cycles, enticing us, inspiring us, always pervading us. The library carrel and the Union coop represented perhaps the purest examples of these formal and easy aspects of campus life. One was the epitome of solitude, the other the height of socialization. Both could be carried to an extreme, both could be used as escapes. Yet both seemed es- sential, both seemed to fill real needs, whether they were real deficien- cies of knowledge or alleged deficiencies of the dining room. In most cases, however, the opposing aspects of formality and easi- ness were found close together, curiously re-enforcing but at the same time competing with each other. The Haverford library proper, for ex- ample, as every junior college miss and Lower Merion coed knew, was not only a handy place to read but also an ideal place to pick up boys. In this subtle game between study and sex there were certain informal rules, all designed to insure the triumph of the latter. What you were reading, for instance, was extremely important. Obviously John Updike's latest was going to be a better come-on than George Eliot's earliest and stuffiest. But in either case the results remained pretty predictable in this coy version of an old and elemental. struggle. On the other side of the net, the game progressed in intensity, and the stakes grew higher and higher. It was inevitable that the contest should extend beyond the periphery of the campus. The pursuit of knowledge seemed to know no bounds. The search assumed the aspect of a biblical quest. The Genesis has been our culpa (fortunate or unfortunate, it did- n't seem to matter which), but Exodus was promises. Having dimly heard of another fortress of the intellect in the near distance, we set out con- fidently on a pilgrimage to Bryn Mawr, that promising land of milk and honey, the fertile crescent of beauty and brains. Along the way, however, the Main line demi-monde presented its own array of temptations to the weak-willed traveler. PennFruit was a Van- ity Fair whose artificial displays gleamed out of the wasteland like a mi- Page 10 t - rage, luring- us on by hidden persuasion to a deadend aisle of satiety. The Comet was an oasis, intimate and agreeable by contrast, but reached only after much delay. How often we slipped into that veritable Slough of De- spond, Tenth Entry. Ah, Tenth! Here we wasted away many a night and days, darting from dark despair to infinite possibility, writing on the waters of our hopes a love-hate letter to the world. It was all so happy and so fu- tile. When we finally arrived at the gates of Bryn Mawr after that some- what jejune journey, even if the place wasn't all that it had been cracked up to be, our facile imaginations quickly made it so, and that last unsullied Page 11 — bastion of truth and beauty, imagined or otherwise, fell forever before our eyes. It was all too easy to get invited to Circe's Coffee Hour, The only problem, some of us found, was how to get out. And so we bought a ticket for a train headed nowhere in particular, per- haps back to Haverford or some nlace like it, perhaps to one of the places along the way. And as we stood on the platform, waiting for the train that would take us to our destination, wondering whether it had all been worthwhile, we suddenly realized that somehow it couldn't have hap- pened otherwise. Mysterious and inexorable forces outside and inside us effected ultimately in those curiously feuding formal and easy elements of life—those forces had reacted together and shaped us. And in this pro- cess Haverford has acted as a kind of catalyst—causing and accelerating that reaction in us without being permanently affected itself. After we have gone, the spirit '^f the place will live on relentlessly as before. But having caught a part of that spirit, we came to realize dur- ing four short years not only our possibilities, but our limitations and ca- pacities—our place in the sun. AN EDITORIAL :.';.* - '...• .i- . ->l:^<= ifiw*^^ ^!^^ '3^^- The nebula Haverford revolves around a still snnali the ordering of the very center. point—the fact that it's a College. And often that still Perhaps this reluctancTe exists because those things small point gets obscured in the midst of the burning, which are close seem complicated, and those which are rushing peripheral stars. But lest anyone forget, each of distant simple. But more probably it's because the sta- us has been here not only because Haverford offers bility at the center is the precondition for other con- courses in the various branches of Higher Education, cerns, which somehow seem more pressing.