The Daily reflects on interesting articles from Stanford’s past in our series “This Week in Stanford History,” based off The Daily’s archival collection.

 

Volume 224, Issue 27, 27 October 2003: SAE on alcohol probation for the rest of the year

Reading this headline you might be unsure of whether it is really an archive, but I assure you it is. The article cites that SAE had been on and off of varying grimy levels for nearly a year previous to the article. This particular probation was due to an incident involving a pledge getting a little too crazy on his 20th birthday— but don’t worry, the frat wasn’t found guilty of hazing.

Back in the day it appears that SAE had some unique tactics, including “‘Save SAE’ shirts as part of ‘an effort to both raise funds and garner community support’.”

I don’t know if SAE is going to go on a t-shirt-funded PR campaign anytime soon, but other than that, it’s fabulous to see that not too much has changed.

 

The Stanford Daily, Volume 114, Issue 24, 28 October 1948: Is he a throb? Is she a queen? Buy Quad

Lest we think that hookup culture is a new phenomenon on the Farm, this plug for the 1949 edition of “The Quad” is here to tell us otherwise.  The Quad, similar to The Stanford Facebook, was essentially a pictorial roster of Stanford students.

The Quad, however, was not free, and as such students had to be persuaded to buy it. The targeted sell point? It will help you remember what your previous hookups looked like, or scout of prospective “blind” dates.

No joke, here is how The Quad bills itself:

“Be prepared for future emergencies. When that boy who always said “hello” to you as you staggered out of your eight o’clock calls you for a date and you can’t remember what he looks like, or when Joe Psphtulkjz phones and you’ve got to know whether or not he was the one who bought you coffee at the Cellar — what do you do? The 1949 Quad is the answer to all such harrowing problems.”

The harrowing problems of 1948 are almost as intriguing as the slang during the time, including “throb” and “queen”.  I’m not sure when these were replaced by “thot” and “ratchet,” but who knows, you might just hear me switching back to that old slang. Because who doesn’t want to be a queen?

 

The Stanford Daily, Volume 188, Issue 27, 29 October 1985: K.C. Has a Royal Party

If you weren’t sure, yes, Kansas City has been to the World Series before.  In 1985.  Until this year, they haven’t been back since (or even made it to the postseason).  But in 1985, they did in fact win their first World Series.

With this type of post-season drought, perhaps it isn’t surprising that the Royals have been gaining popularity as the underdog of the World Series.  In the Bay Area, it is of course only natural to be rooting against Kansas City.  But hey, you have to give them credit for not giving up.

The article describes a jubilant scene in K.C. after the victory, including 40,000 pounds of makeshift confetti being thrown onto the streets from office buildings alone.

“This is the greatest day in history for Kansas City,” said Royals fan and Kansas City native Duff James.

As a fellow Kansas City native, I feel compelled to neither confirm nor deny James’ statement. On one hand, baseball hardly seems like it could be that exciting. On the other hand, Kansas City isn’t very exciting.

Will Kansas City have a new greatest day in its history? We might just find out this Wednesday, October 29th.

 

The Stanford Daily, Volume 180, Issue 25, 30 October 1981: Students Vote to Accept the Cardinal

While I myself am often still struggling to remember if our mascot is technically the tree or the ambiguous Cardinal, in 1981 the issue was decided by an ASSU vote.

The ballot options for students included the Cardinal (receiving 970 votes), the tree (826 votes) and the gryphon (650 votes).  While this seems like a fairly split vote, another ballot question asked students if “they would be satisfied with Cardinal as mascot if there was no clear consensus?”

Apparently, 1763 of 3481 voters indicated that they would settle for Cardinal, and so became the half-hearted student endorsement.

As a reflection of the Stanford student body, the article had some hidden gems.  For instance, athletes were in large part supporters of the gryphon — apparently neither a tree nor a color can adequately portray Stanford’s athletic prowess.  On the other hand, it is no surprise that the band was largely behind the tree.

The university’s mascot-less state started when, in 1971, President Richard abolished the Indian as Stanford’s official mascot due to its offensive nature.  While I’m not sure why it took until 1971 for this to happen, apparently some people still didn’t catch on as 82 students voted for the Indian via write-in ballot options.

The most popular write-in, however, was a little different: 310 students’ ballots suggested the robber-baron.  Personally, I’d still like a recount. Or at least a ballot measure to see how many students would be satisfied with the robber-baron mascot given a lack of other consensus.

 

The Stanford Daily, Volume 218, Issue 28, 31 October 2000: The History Corner- Story of the Mausoleum

Apparently in 2000 they wrote articles looking back at Stanford history as well — but don’t worry, searching through old issues of The Daily, there is a wealth of knowledge about this week’s hot (and still kinda creepy) party spot, the Mausoleum.

The site of the Mausoleum was originally supposed to be “the hub of the campus, with several drives radiating from it like the spokes of a wheel.” However, these plans had only slightly begun when Leland Stanford Jr. passed away, and the Stanfords changed their plans.  While the cactus garden that we have today was allowed to remain, the rest of the plans were scrapped in favor of making the site the private Stanford family graveyard.

And let me tell you, they worked hard back in 1885 to make the Stanford Mausoleum as classy as a grave as you will find.  In fact, the slab of stone for construction weighed more than 50 tons and took a full two weeks to be moved a total of 4 miles from where it was cut and polished.

How, you might ask? The stone was rolled along painstakingly while it sat on a set of wooden rollers.  So when you head out to party this Halloween night and take a swing by the Night Before ChristMaus, 10 p.m. – 1a.m., check out that stone, bruh.

 

The Stanford Daily, Volume 188, Issue 30, 1 November 1985: Mail Registration to Begin Next Quarter

I will admit to being one of those kids who complained about Axess crashing when registration happened.  Was there much of a chance that I wouldn’t get into my prerequisite Econ and Chem lectures? No.  Did I absolutely feel it was necessary to register on the first day possible? Apparently.

But before the days of Axess woes, students had something else to look forward to: the introduction of registration by mail!

Apparently this was a big step up from previous registration processes, as students could avoid “the traditional crush at Maples Pavilion.”  Before the mailing system, students actually had to all stand in line to register for classes on “enrollment day.” This sounds like a step up, but personally I would still be upset at the thought of actually having to check my P.O. box.

 

The Stanford Daily, Volume 160, Issue 26, 1 November 1971: Stanford Band Votes No Women Members

While today the band is the image of controversial progress, in the past the first descriptor was even more so true.  While 1971 might not seem like that terribly long ago, it was in Fall quarter of 1971 that the band voted 108-22 to uphold their no women policy.

The band manager at the time indicated that “the vote precluded the admission of women for at least the next year.”  While this didn’t become official for another month after this article, however, I feel obligated to include a moral spoiler-alert: the university overturned this vote by the end of the month. Apparently gender restrictions violated university policy that “no one shall be excluded from any course on the basis of non-academic criteria” since some band members received units for participating.

 

 Contact Ada Throckmorton at adastat ‘at’ stanford.edu.