A Look Backward, by Chandler B. Beach, Class of 1863

Marietta College Alumni Quarterly,
April 1923

When I entered Marietta in 1859 the college buildings were two, the Library Building and the Dormitory. In the former were the college library, the chapel and certain recitation rooms, and on the upper floor the Halls of the Literary Societies, Alpha Kappa and Psi Gamma, with their libraries. The Dormitory lives in the memory of Old-time students as the center of college life. Here studies were pursued with earnest application on the part of some and with wandering minds on the part of others; here focused the social life of the college, the close, genial, friendly association of young men, alike in their pursuits and in the experiences of daily life, leading to friendships which became life long. Here and on the seats around the pump on the campus were held the conspiracies of fun which saved college life from becoming a dull routine. The college day began with chapel at 7:30. One must put one’s room in order, go to breakfast and return in time for chapel. Thus it came about that the greatest activity of the day was displayed in the early morning. There was a legend that one morning a student rushed into chapel, breathless, breakfastless and combing his hair with his fingers.

Organized athletics which hold so large a place in college life today were unknown in our day, yet we were not without healthful and enjoyable recreations. Out-of-door sports were frequent and varied and tramps over the outlying hills with their many charming views were a delight. Harmar Hill was a favorite objective. It was then forest covered, not a house nor a clearing in sight, and from its summit, the town, the hills beyond, the shining Ohio with its Crescent Island, and the broad valley stretching away to the Virginia hills, gave to the eye a picture long to be remembered.

Fraternities, which had been under ban, made their appearance at this time in the advent of Alpha Digamma, the faculty having yielded to the plea of a group of the older students who were “of the finest of the wheat.” A chapter of Alpha Sigma Phi was inaugurated soon after. These were the only fraternities during my college term.

A feature of greatest interest to the students were the meetings of the literary societies, Psi Gamma and Alpha Kappa, which were held on the forenoon of each Saturday. Of the program presented at each session the number of special interest was the debate. The question to be discussed and the speakers on either side were assigned in advance and the speeches pro and con generally gave evidence of careful preparation and an eager desire on the part of contestants to win the decision. It is not too much to say that the work of these societies gave an added value to the college course, stimulating thought and initiative and giving to the student a knowledge of the orderly conduct of the public meetings and developing an ability to think on his feet which made him an intelligent and helpful citizen in community affairs later on.

I have long recognized with grateful appreciation the great good fortune which permitted me to sit for four years under the teaching and the personal influence of the members of the faculty of Marietta.

President Andrews was a man of rare qualities, both as a man and an educator, strong, wise, thorough in his knowledge of every phase of college work and college life, tactful and efficient. Without seeming to do so he dominated the entire institution, faculty and students. He held a high ideal of what a college course might and ought to accomplish for every student and to realize this sought to stimulate thoroughness in the preparation of every lesson. At the close of a recitation the lesson had been thoroughly analyzed, made clear in every point, and the measure of preparation given to it by every member called upon made evident. In his life President Andrews presented a high type of Christian manhood, clean, unselfish, unswerving in devoted loyalty to the Christian faith. He once said to me that he never had a doubt. Who can measure the impress of his character upon the hundreds of young men who sat under his teaching for four years.

On my first day at Marietta, passing through north hall in the old dormitory, I saw chalked on the bulletin board this legend, “Prof. Johnny the student’s friend,” a heartfelt tribute of one student and endorsed by a host of others who had been piloted through a labyrinth of Greek text and through many other tangles by our venerable and reverend Prof. Kendrick. Gentle, kind, anxious to help and slow to chide, the boys sometimes tried his patience, but there was a limit. I recall a recitation when two or three of the class were acting as kids, when his face became stern and he spoke sharply, “Young men, if you do not behave I shall take my hat and go home. I am not here to control your conduct; in the common school the teacher governs the pupil, in college the young men govern themselves.” There was a sudden calm.

Prof. Evans, who held the Chair of Mathematics, was one whose knowledge of the science and whose investigations went far beyond the range of our studies. Terse, but kind in speech, he was a most competent and inspiring teacher in a field which some found dry and difficult. He was called from Marietta to Cornell. There was in college at this time, though not in my class, a student named Payne, who had almost a genius for mathematics and who naturally admired Prof. Evans. Soon after the close of the war I met Payne down in Tennessee, where he held a chair in Tennessee University at Knoxville. He related that on his return from an Eastern trip he stopped over night at Cornell to visit with Prof. Evans and, said he, “We sat up and talked until two o’clock.” I asked what they could find to talk about until such an hour. “Oh,” he replied, “we were discussing the form of the ultimate atom: two theories you know, one that it is circular and the other that it is triangular,” and he reeled off a series of equations which did not speak to me at all. Think of it – sitting up till two o’clock in the morning, spinning equations in an argument over a very small point. But we know that in the enthusiasms of genius, often food for smiles to ordinary mortals, were born the discoveries, inventions and ideals which have marked the progress of the world.

With 1861 came the war and the college was intensely stirred. We were on the border – just across the Ohio was Virginia. A regiment of artillery was ordered to Marietta in April and from that time until the close of the war a camp was always there. Games and recreations gave place to military drill, the campus became a drill ground. Many left college in response to the first and later calls for troops. Seven members of my class were of this number. Of students who remained, nearly all entered the army after graduation. Of twelve of my class who completed their course, ten rendered army service. Of Marietta men who joined the army, many of whom rendered conspicuous service and reached high rank, a full record is given in “Marietta College in the War,” a volume published by the faculty after the close of the war.

It is one of the compensations of age that memory holds and brings back to us the faces, the voices, the life of early years. The atmosphere, the songs, the laughter, the genial friendly intercourse, the thrill and relish of intellectual gain, these cannot be recorded on paper, but looking back over the long road since traveled, in the high horizon there they shine, bright, glad, helpful days at Old Marietta.

Chandler Belden Beach (1839-1928) was born in Cumberland, Ohio, the son of Edwards Abbot Beach and Rhoda (Churchill) Beach. After graduating from Marietta College as the valedictorian in 1863, Beach served in the Civil War in the Quartermaster Department. Married to Laura Nerni, he spent most of his life in Chicago, where he founded the C. B. Beach Publishing Company.