Education Oral History Hard Bound Book

strong women building strong communities building strong women building strong communities building strong women

building strong communities building strong women building strong communities building strong women building strong communities building

strong women building

strong communities An Oral History Project

of the Smith College Club of Minnesota

strong women

building strong communities building strong women building strong communities building strong women building strong communities building strong women building strong communities

building strong women building strong communities building strong women building strong communities building strong women building strong communities building strong women

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strong women building strong communities

Strong Women Building Strong Communities by the Smith College Club of Minnesota © 2008 Smith College Club of Minnesota.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or copied without prior written permission except in the case of brief quotations within articles on or reviews of the book.

For information, contact the College Archivist at the Smith College Archives, Alumnae Gymnasium, Northampton, MA 01060.

Printed in the United States of America.

October 2008: First Edition ISBN 0615226256 This book was printed by Bruce Printing and bound

by Midwest Editions in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

Its contents were produced using the Adobe Creative Suite CS3. Text is set in Adobe Caslon Pro and Interstate.

Book and cover design by Sarah Steil, http://www.missrb.com

“I respect the fact that on this campus we like stout ideas and convictions of every conceivable sort, old and new, traditional and modern, and are not afraid of them; that the one thing we are afraid of is apathy and indifference toward learning and toward life.”

“…And if in June of every year 400 girls leave Northampton with an awakened sense of personal responsibility and an honest desire to make the towns and cities in which they will live and work more decent, intelligent, unprejudiced and far-sighted, more rich in things of the mind, it seems to me, in the light of American democratic ideas, that Smith College has fulfilled its promises and done its work well.”

Mary Ellen Chase (1887–1973) Smith College Professor of English 1926–55

From Smith College: A Definition

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introduction

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introduction

A Tribute to Strong Women of All Ages Laurie maloff Kramer ’69 President smith college club of minnesota

This beautiful book came about mostly by happenstance.

In mid-2007, beginning my term as club president, I brainstormed with club members about ways to expand the club’s outreach and appeal. We were particularly interested in attracting younger alums who had moved to Minnesota from other parts of the country, often to take professional positions with the University of Minnesota, small colleges, or large corporations headquartered here.

Newcomers, we guessed, might feel intimidated by the “old-timers” in the club. Many of the older alums were part of a long tradition—families who sent generations of young women to Smith starting in the earliest decades of the college. And many, personally and through their families, had played leadership roles in the development of the state.

Bringing the two demographic segments together seemed like a natural way to proceed, and so the oral history project was born. The original planning group envisioned two-person teams of fairly recent grads, generally born outside of Minnesota, going out to interview Minnesota-born women who’d attended Smith in the 1930s and 1940s.

Of course, as soon as we announced the project and offered training to prospective interviewers, we realized that oral history is intergenerational— and universal—in appeal. People of all ages and circumstances understand it as a meaningful, lifeenhancing experience, for individuals on both sides of the microphone. And it has a special appeal to women, whose contributions were ignored for so long by the recorders of written history.

In the end, our interview teams covered a span of six decades of Smith graduates, from the class of 1950 to the class of 2007. Our interview subjects, for this first phase of the project, were intentionally narrower in age range, though we did extend in a few cases beyond the 1940s. We leave it to future Minnesota club leaders to undertake additional phases, interviewing alums from the 1950s and more recent decades.

The 16 women interviewed for this book attended Smith a long time ago, and in many ways their experiences took place in a world that seems gone.

But the theme—strong women building strong communities—applies to them as surely as to future generations, a tribute to Smith College and its ongoing legacy.

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introduction

We’re Listening to Each Other, and What Fun We’re Having!

Betsey Whitbeck ’71 Oral History Project Co-Chair

After millennia of being property, servants, breeders— people with few or no rights—the past century has seen women’s lives change dramatically. The Vote brought us recognition as thinking individuals, able to participate in determining public policy and selecting our leaders. Then Betty and Gloria challenged us to value our worth in the workplace and family as equal to men’s. In the 1970s we could finally apply for and receive mortgages on our own, without the previously requisite additional male signature. And mothers could go to work to support or supplement family income without guilt. We still may not earn as much as the guys, and glass ceilings yet abound in higher echelons of business, but in jobs where real work is needed we can now expect to have a fairly equal opportunity of being hired.

We have come a long, long way, as the saying goes— but not yet far enough. Part of what’s missing still is acknowledgment and recognition of the remarkable efforts women put forth to build their families, communities, the economy, and, bottom-line, a better quality of life for our world.

Herein lies the reason—along with our club’s desire to stimulate greater participation—that the Minnesota Smith Club created an oral history project. In fact, we are strong women building strong communities

in so many ways. It’s time this fact is recognized, and we’ve decided we may as well be the ones doing the recognizing! We want to celebrate women’s lives and the impact of their time and talents by recording the lives and accomplishments of Smith alums.

Beyond publishing this delightful book focusing on the first group of alumnae, who knows what will evolve from this project? At any rate, we have taken the need to record our personal histories into our own hands. Now others will learn a bit more about the crucial role Smith women have played in building the communities and institutions of the state of Minnesota, which this year celebrates its 150th anniversary.

An added bonus for project participants has been forming new connections and friendships. A natural outcome of collaboration is learning about and from each other, causing us to grow, sometimes in new directions. Whatever we do that expands our worlds must be, to an extent at least, good. Those most closely associated with this oral history have enjoyed the experience. We hope this is true of all participants and readers.

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contents

Helen Woodhull kramer ’34 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 Anne Dalrymple hull ’38 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Virginia Raynolds humphrey ’4 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 2 Janet Kedney woodhull ’4 4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 8 Helen Raynolds anderson ’4 4

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Kathleen Culman ridder ’4 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30 Perrin Brown lilly ’4 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 36 Joanne Witmer von blon ’4 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Sally Whitney pillsbury ’46 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 46 Martha Butler alworth ’4 7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 52 Grace Mariette norris ’4 7 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58 Jane Thomas noland ’49 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 Mary Wurtele vaughan ’49 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70 Molly Duff woehrlin ’53 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 76 Marilyn Carlson nelson ’6 1 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82 Ann Mitchell pflaum ’63 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90 words from our trainers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97 acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 0 1

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Helen demonstrating a dance move from her senior class play, The Bacchae, 1934

“Take the Time to Extend Yourself!”

Helen Woodhull kramer ’34 Interviewed by Barbara Bockhaus Klaas ’74 and Mary Ward Gover ’56 on May 6, 2008

At age 95, Helen Woodhull Kramer truly lives her own advice to “Keep active, keep interested, keep working on the things that matter.”

Although we arrived 15 minutes early for the interview, Helen was ready and greeted us with a bright smile. A slim, upright woman with short white hair, smartly clad in black slacks and turtleneck under a bright pink vest, she promptly urged us to call her by her first name.

Being positive, optimistic, active, and caring— Helen’s core values—were taught her by her mother and her church. Helen’s parents came to Minnesota from Pennsylvania, hoping her father would find a job through a friend.

The couple settled right near Westminster Presbyterian Church. “They got attached to Westminster right away,” she commented.

The church, which reinforced the family’s values, would play an important role in the family’s life and in Helen’s.

Unfortunately, Helen’s father was unable to hold a job for very long. Consequently and much to her husband’s discomfort, Helen’s mother, Agnes, had to support the family, first selling a “beautiful line of girls’ clothes” to clientele near Lake Minnetonka and later giving talks for the Foreign Affairs Council.

“We weren’t really poor, but we were frugal so we could do the things that mattered.”

Helen’s parents set high standards for their four children. They were gracious hosts, and Helen’s mother taught her daughters etiquette.

The words “quit,” “ain’t,” and “sure” were not allowed. The children were urged to be kind to others who were not like themselves, and to avoid making others unhappy by criticizing.

The children also were taught the value and importance of learning. As a young man, Helen’s father had been unable to follow his family’s tradition of attending Princeton because of the death of his father. Instead, he was tutored at home by his grandfather and uncles. Once in Minneapolis, he continued to study geology, archaeology, and architecture on his own. He started a club for teenage boys— the Fujiyama Club—through Westminster.

Helen’s mother came from a family, the Pattons, where two of the three sisters attended Smith, Agnes graduating in 1901 and her sister Helen in 1899. When it was time for Helen Woodhull and her sisters to seek out colleges after attending Central High and Northrop Collegiate, Agnes told them, “Girls, you have only two choices: either the University of Minnesota or Smith.” Helen and her older sisters, Patsy and Caroline, all chose Smith.

Their education was financed by an inheritance from Helen’s maternal grandfather, John W. Patton, a professor of law at the University

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of Pennsylvania—funds her mother had set aside for the children’s education and for travel.

Helen recalls that she had “a wonderful education” at Smith, which she commented then cost $490 for tuition and board! The college opened her eyes to new worlds of art and art history, and she took a wide variety of courses, including one on Paradise Lost, one in geology, and several in Latin before majoring in history. Helen remembers taking literature classes from Mary Ellen Chase.

“She was like nobody else in the world. She’d walk like somebody on a deck; she looked like a sailor and filled a class period with tales old and new!”

Helen liked the house system, and somewhat sheepishly mentioned that their evening meals in those days were served by maids.

Helen also liked the house system, and somewhat sheepishly mentioned that their evening meals in those days were served by maids. Some of the foreign students who lived in Helen’s house (Martha Wilson) became real friends. The housemother, a wise and witty Scotswoman, was a fine advisor, and everyone admired Smith President William Allan Neilson.

She remembers being invited to spend Thanksgiving in New Haven with her friend Molly Bennett. There, they attended a dance.

“I had a white satin dress and blue gloves and I was the belle of the ball. … The Minneapolis Yalies discovered I also was from Minneapolis so they gave us a rush!”

Although her parents were lifelong Republicans, Helen came to support Franklin D. Roosevelt, seeing him as more caring for those in need during the difficult Depression years.

Helen even became president of the very liberal Why Club at Smith. In fact, when asked what events or period most changed her life, Helen named living through the Depression, fdr ’s improving the economy, and World War ii.

After college Helen taught in various private schools since she did not have a Minnesota teacher’s license. Working at one school in particular she found to be a very boring experience. “I quit! Mother’s not here, so I can say that word now!” Another year, coming off the boat from a European voyage—a trip she paid for by renting out books aboard ship—she accepted a teacher-exchange job in Connecticut.

That turned into “three wonderful years” at Spring Hill, an extension of the experimental Little Red Schoolhouse movement in New York.

Considering the important role the church played in her upbringing, it was no surprise Helen was active in religious activities at Smith and later. In the 1960s, Helen worked with the Westminster Task Force for Race and Religion, including participating in a protest march down Plymouth Avenue in north Minneapolis. And she broke the gender barrier in the governance of her church. Among her proudest moments was being elected an Elder—one of the first two female Elders at the church. She also served on the board of the ywca , helping with outreach programs to the minority and low-income populations of the city.

Music was another key part of Helen’s life.

She enjoyed playing duets with her piano teacher and singing in the choir at Smith. During her senior year, while home in Minneapolis, she

helen woodhull kramer

Five Smith women, Ivy Day 1931: Helen Woodhull (Kramer) ’34, sister Caroline Woodhull (Ernst) ’31, sister Patsy Woodhull (Raudenbush) ’28, mother Agnes Patton Woodhull ’01, aunt Helen Patton Beers 1899

memorably met famed violinist Nathan Milstein at a tea, after which he asked her for a date.

They went to a movie, and “Oh boy, his hands were active!” After Milstein brought her home, Helen’s father came downstairs in his bathrobe to tell Milstein—as if he were any ordinary young man—that it was time for him to go home.

When Helen was close to completing an m.a. in education specializing in remedial reading, violinist Henry Kramer came to Minnesota to play in the Minneapolis

Symphony Orchestra. Within a few weeks, they were engaged. This was a turning point in her life. She finished her degree right after they were married, but was happy to set aside her profession to focus on her husband and the children who soon followed.

She regrets never obtaining a Minnesota teacher’s license, which would have allowed her to teach in the public schools, but she did use her talents by teaching piano and mentoring.

Years later, she plunged into helping others less

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Ready for college in new clothes, summer 1930

helen woodhull kramer

fortunate than she, including trying to get high school dropouts to finish their education.

Living since 2000 in an assisted living facility in Stillwater, Helen exudes interest in the world around her. She continues to take classes in new areas, and has been participating in writing classes for about 10 years. Her coffee table is covered with books, including bestsellers Water for Elephants and Thirst. She’s concerned about current issues such as global warming and immigration. She admires as visionaries the framers of the Constitution, Rachel Carson, and Gandhi.

Asked what advice she would give to Smith graduates today, Helen quickly said, “Keep active. Keep interested. Keep working on the things that matter. Watch the country’s—the world’s—future. Be accepting but don’t refuse to look at new ways.”

Helen rounded out our time together by relating a story illustrative of her philosophy.

While taking an art class at Smith, she told the professor she did not like the “new” art, especially Cezanne. Her professor suggested she stop in at the art museum every time she went by and look at the Cezanne there. She did, and after studying it for a while found that she liked it. “In other words, take the time to extend yourself. This is good advice!”

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“Keep active. Keep interested.

Keep working on the things that matter. Watch the country’s— the world’s—future. Be accepting but don’t refuse to look at new ways.”

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strong women building strong communities

John and Bernice Barber Dalrymple ’10, with children Anne ’38, John Jr., and Cynthia ’43

Serving the Arts Wherever She Goes Anne Dalrymple hull ’38 Interviewed by Cathy Muldoon ’88 and Kate Lehmann ’78 on June 24, 2008

Life has been good to Anne Dalrymple Hull: good health, a long and happy marriage to someone who shares her values, time to explore her interests, and resources to travel the world. And, in return, she’s been good to the widespread communities she’s called home.

Tall and fit, Anne appears far younger than her 92 years. An avid tennis player, her devotion to the sport is evident in her bearing and agility.

She and her husband, Hadlai A. Hull, now make their home at the Meridian Manor senior living facility in Wayzata.

In addition to their apartment, the Hulls have an office space where Hadlai, a former Assistant Secretary of the Army, and Anne, a lifelong volunteer, conduct their day-to-day business. Against a backdrop of framed commendations and original artwork, Anne talked about her personal history and the influence of her Smith education.

The Dalrymple family history in Minnesota goes back to the early years of the state.

Anne’s maternal great-grandparents came to Minnesota and became involved in the iron ore industry on the Mesabi Iron Range.

Her paternal grandparents arrived later.

“My grandfather went to Yale Law School and came to work for a law firm in St. Paul.”

He came for the abundant opportunities offered at a time when old land grants held by the

railroads were being sold. He acquired a bonanza of wheat farms and started farming in the Red River Valley. Some of this land is still in the family today. “My father divided his time between the Minneapolis–Saint Paul area and the farm up in North Dakota, about 30 miles west of Fargo. My nephew still lives there and supervises the family farms.”

Like many prominent families of Minnesota, the Dalrymples had strong ties “Back East” that were maintained through attendance at boarding schools and Ivy League colleges. Anne and her sister, Cynthia Dalrymple Newman ’43, attended Miss Hall’s boarding school in Massachusetts.

“It had two divisions: one for people who were going to college, and the other for people who were just being finished.” Anne noted that, at the time, about half of the college-bound Miss Hall’s graduates went on to Smith. Anne also commented that there were many “attractive” and outstanding Twin Cities families who sent people to eastern colleges and that Smith was a choice for many of the daughters.

Anne’s mother, Bernice Barber Dalrymple, along with two classmates from Central High School in Minneapolis, attended Smith College as members of the class of 1910. Bernice, who graduated Phi Beta Kappa, was a stalwart devotee of Smith and served on the college’s Board of Trustees. She was understandably influential in her daughters’ choice of the school.

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Before marriage to Hadlai Hull, 1939

In her 70s, Anne took the daring step of starting her own art gallery in Washington.

Cynthia completed her Smith undergraduate degree in three years and went on to attend the University of Virginia Law School. She stayed and made her home in the Washington, dc , area. Anne’s older brother, John Dalrymple, Jr., graduated from Yale and became involved in running the family farms.

Anne majored in psychology at Smith, graduating magna cum laude, and continued on as a teaching fellow at the college for a year after graduation. She then married Hadlai Hull, a graduate of Yale and Yale Law School. They moved to New York City, where Hadlai worked for the law firm of Sullivan & Cromwell.

A graduate of rotc , he served on sea duty during World War ii as commanding officer of a destroyer escort. Their first son was born the week of the attack on Pearl Harbor, and they had two more sons after the war ended.

When he retired as a Navy commander, Hadlai took a job with Dayton’s, the venerable department store chain. The Hulls were finally able to live in the Minneapolis–Saint Paul area, where Anne had grown up and which her husband had grown to like so much.

Back in Minnesota, Anne readily put her organizational and leadership skills to work as a member of volunteer boards of directors for such organizations as the Minneapolis Institute of Arts, Planned Parenthood, and the United Way. She also served as president of the Board of Trustees of Northwestern Hospital (now Abbott Northwestern) and raised money for the Smith College Alumnae Association.

Many longtime Minnesota alumnae remember the years when the annual Smith Club of Minnesota fund-raiser, Smith Day, was literally “in the Country”—held at the private homes of alums living on the shores of Lake Minnetonka. In 1958, 1961, and again in 1968, Anne and Hadlai turned over their Ferndale home to Smith Day, moving over (or perhaps out) to make room for the gala event. In 1968, the Smith Day theme was Summer Olympics; brightly colored hula hoops were tied together in the shape of the Olympic symbol and floated in their swimming pool.

Anne feels that her Smith education helped foster a sense of obligation to be of service to others, reinforcing the message she received from her mother. Thus the importance of community was instilled in her by both her family and the college. With characteristic modesty, Anne said she didn’t feel she really

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Anne (left) with Clara Taplin Rankin and Nell Angle Richmond, all ’38

changed the course of the organizations she served, but rather that she was able to “do math” and preside, as well as raise funds.

In 1971 Anne and Hadlai moved to Washington, dc, where he served as an Assistant Secretary of the Army during the Nixon administration. “This seemed somewhat ironic,” said Anne, “since he had been a Navy man.”

There, Anne continued to use her leadership abilities on the boards of the Corcoran Gallery, National Symphony Orchestra, and International Student House, among others.

In her 70s, Anne took the daring step of starting her own art gallery in Washington.

Focusing principally on American art, she brought in shows from New York that reflected her keen interest in visual arts. Also during this time she and her husband traveled extensively—something she clearly enjoyed.

In particular, Anne found Korea a surprising place and also commented on having the opportunity to travel to China.

Anne and Hadlai returned to live in Minnesota only a few years ago, deciding that being closer to family in their later years was important. “And Minnesota is an awfully nice place to live,” Anne said, “even if we don’t get out much anymore.”

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“Miss Hall’s boarding school had two divisions: one for people who were going to college, and the other for people who were just being finished.”

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Jinny (right) with Tita Willis and Patty Estey, Commencement 1942

A Woman with “Stars About Her Head” Virginia Raynolds humphrey ’42 Interviewed by Ann Mitchell Pflaum ’63 and Jessica Petocz ’02 on February 2, 2008

Spend just a few minutes with Virginia “Jinny” Raynolds Humphrey and you know you’ve met an accomplished storyteller with a basketful of adventures gathered from her busy life. Her colorful stories bring to life her achievements, values, and deep commitment to community service and civic duty.

Jinny grew up during the Depression with her parents, her paternal grandmother, her younger sister Helen (see page 24 for the interview with Helen Raynolds Anderson ’44), and her much younger brother John. Her father owned a successful company, which protected the family from the hardships suffered by so many during those years. While her parents were glad to provide food to others, Jinny took it upon herself to take care of stray dogs.

“I never went anywhere without dog food in my pockets,” Jinny explains, as she describes being constantly followed by hungry dogs!

While the Depression was the backdrop for Jinny’s childhood, her family was the source of many of her lifelong values. She credits her father with teaching her to be trustworthy.

Even when she and Helen caused trouble with the other neighborhood kids, her father trusted them to tell the truth. Jinny comments, “I think that if you are trusted, you become more trustworthy—I really do.”

Her family also emphasized learning and education. Her parents read poetry to her and

Helen every night, from nonsense verses to the classics. Her grandmother belonged to the Peripatetics, a women’s literary group, and brought the arts and humanities into the girls’ lives. After every Sunday dinner, she helped the girls act out stories from the Bible and Greek mythology. Jinny describes lashing her grandmother to a chair to do Perseus and Andromeda. “Helen was this chimera slithering on her stomach and she was going to eat up my grandmother, but I got there just in time.”

Her grandmother also filled their rooms with reproductions of famous paintings and took the children to the symphony. The family’s focus on education not only prepared Jinny for a lifetime of learning but also helped knit the family together. Of all the values her family taught her, Jinny holds dearest their love and affection. “I always felt cherished and loved and that they were interested in what we did.”

A top student at Northrop Collegiate, Jinny wanted to attend an Eastern college. Her first choice was always Smith. Throughout her teens, family friends brought her to Smith Day in the Country each fall, where she met many alumnae who were very active in the cultural life of Minneapolis. “It was the caliber of the people I met from Smith that really influenced me,” Jinny recalls. “I thought, ‘Aha! Smith is for me.’”

Two years behind her, Jinny’s sister, Helen, joined her at Smith.

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Jinny (right) and Helen ’44—sisters and lifelong friends

Jinny’s first year of college had its ups and downs. “I didn’t work very hard freshman year at all,” Jinny remembers. She worked so little that when her father visited campus halfway through the year, the dean of the freshman class recommended that Jinny not return the next year because she would never graduate.

While her father had faith that she would do fine, Jinny relates that “The mere thought of having to leave Smith just sent me into a tailspin.”

The cause of her academic troubles the first year? She was invited to join one of Smith’s two secret societies. “They had a huge impact on me—I shouldn’t even be talking about them,” she divulges. Being a new member meant she spent much of her time and energy on the society. “I was extremely busy all the time,” Jinny notes, as she recalls traditions and escapades. During World War ii , the societies were banned for being undemocratic, and she

believes it’s good that such societies are now gone. But her memories make clear that this group was a source of great friendship and happiness during her Smith years.

After the meeting between the dean and her father, Jinny devoted herself to academics and “really slaved for the next two years.” She chose to major in English and, like many Smithies, found inspiration in Professor Mary Ellen Chase, whose books still line her shelves. “She was wonderful,” says Jinny. Her diligence paid off, and she graduated with honors. Smith was also the start of two lifelong friendships, with Claire “Street” Streeter and Louise “Skippy” Farrell. The three of them visited each other annually, and today pictures of both Street and Skippy adorn her living room.

She recalls that at Smith, “Everything was so perfect.” The wonderful classes and close friendships made her deeply grateful and fiercely loyal. Smith taught her “the value of

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an education, and how fortunate you are to be able to go to college.”

The fall of Jinny’s senior year at Smith was marked by the loss of her beloved father. Still she persevered, and as graduation approached, she and her closest friends got job offers from ibm and planned to move to New York together.

From there, she hoped to move into publishing and become a famous writer. But all these plans came to a halt when one morning she received what she calls The Phone Call: A cousin telephoned to tell her that her mother was ill and that she needed to return to Minneapolis to care for her. “It was a real turning point in my life,” says Jinny. So she returned home and, at her mother’s behest, enrolled in courses in bookkeeping and typing at the Minneapolis Business College.

Jinny was miserable, but it was not long until another unexpected twist changed everything.

She met a naval officer at a party who sensed her discontent and recommended she work for the Navy to help the war effort. Jinny agreed, and soon she was at the General Mills E Plant on Central Avenue, which housed the Naval Inspector of Ordnance.

“I was with all the Rosie the Riveters,” she says, describing long days in the plant filled with women. Jinny inspected torpedo directors, gun mounts, and computers in a darkroom to make sure they had glowing radium paint, which allowed sailors to read them in the dark.

One time she discovered a huge batch without the radium paint. Jinny beams as she tells us, “The Admiral sent me roses and said, ‘You probably saved dozens of lives.’”

While working for the Navy, Jinny kept up a correspondence with George Humphrey, whom she had met after her sophomore year at a party for a Smith friend who lived on Lake

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Minnetonka. George was from Mississippi and was visiting his brother, who had recently moved to Minneapolis for a position with General Mills. Jinny recalls, “I came home and told my father that I had met the man I was going to marry, and he just laughed!” Their friendship continued during the war and George visited Minneapolis when he was on leave. They were married in April 1944. When Jinny reflects on the unexpected turns in her life, she notes that, “The interesting thing, really, is that had I gone to New York, I might never have married George. Had I gone to work at ibm , my whole life would have been different, completely!”

“I was with all the Rosie the Riveters,” Jinny says, describing long days at a General Mills plant filled with women during World War II.

Jinny and George had two boys, then two girls, over the next nine years and became very active in the civic life of the Twin Cities. They joined the World Federalists, a movement of people from all over the world committed to preventing future wars through the establishment of global institutions. The couple was also involved in the Great Books Foundation, and George led a group for seven years.

When their children reached school age, Jinny and George turned much of their energy toward education and politics. Jinny served on the Citizens Committee for Education and the pta , and she started an organization committed to reducing class sizes. George was

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With first grandchild Claire Humphrey, age 1

elected to the Minneapolis School Board, and then decided to run for the Minnesota State Legislature since that was the source of education funding. During his campaigns, Jinny worked tirelessly, going door to door, making phone calls, and hosting coffee parties. George served in the State Senate for 10 years, and together they were active as delegates to Republican State Conventions.

In addition to raising four children, juggling multiple civic activities, and organizing George’s campaigns, Jinny went back to school to earn a degree in education from the University of Minnesota. “Oh, it was hectic, very hectic.

I think I would not have done it had I known how hectic it was going to be.” It took her three years to finish, and during her student teaching she realized she was not a very good fit as a classroom teacher who needs to be “both actress and disciplinarian.” Instead, she focused on special education, which was a new field in great need of teachers. She relished the individual attention she could give students and the creative teaching methods she could employ.

Jinny earned an additional degree in special education from St. Cloud State University and taught for 15 years, first at what was then known as Anthony Junior High and later at the

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now-defunct West High. As she recalls her students and their struggles, Jinny comments, “I really liked special ed; it’s kind of a last chance for a lot of kids.”

After retirement from teaching, Jinny continued her interest in community service.

She’s been on countless boards, including several at Plymouth Congregational Church, which she has attended since childhood. One of her fondest projects involved hosting Tibetan refugees in early 1993, when the United States granted more than 1,000 visas to Tibetans to resettle across the country. At the time, Jinny’s niece was living with her and they immediately signed up to host two newcomers, Tsering Lamo and Tsering Pema.

Jinny prepared with classes on Tibetan culture and planned to take her Tibetan guests to museums and the theater. But, she says, “I have never been so busy as the four months I had them in my house.” Days were filled with paperwork, medical appointments, job interviews, and lessons on the bus system and grocery shopping. Jinny admires their grace and patience in the face of adversity, noting, “Whenever something went wrong, they would just fall on the floor laughing. They were just marvelous, incredible.”

The Tibetans she hosted stayed in the Twin Cities, and they and Jinny have remained close.

Along with other Tibetans, Jinny’s guests have slowly been able to reunite their families here, helping make the metro area one of the biggest Tibetan communities in the nation. Jinny reflects that “My life has been made infinitely richer for knowing the Tibetans, learning about their culture and Tibetan Buddhism.”

Among Jinny’s many endeavors, she considers writing a book one of her most significant accomplishments. During the process of editing

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Gifts of the Spirit, by the late Nancy Solstad Baltins (smith ’67), Jinny learned a great deal about self-publishing and printing. She later put these talents toward her own book project, a collection of “momoirs” from her own life and the people who mattered most to her. Titled Stars About My Head, the book includes letters, spiritual writings, stories, and travel pieces.

To read it is to journey through Jinny’s life with its twists and turns, but always with wisdom and a sense of humor, much like Jinny herself.

Today, Jinny is as busy as ever. She explains that “I can’t imagine not volunteering in some way—doing something helpful outside of your daily life.” She continues to write and take classes, and sets an example for her children and grandchildren. Whether teaching, coordinating health care, building homes with Habitat for Humanity, or protesting the School of the Americas, her family is as devoted to the community as she.

Looking toward the future, Jinny hopes that others will become more interested in and educated about politics. She notes that “You can’t have a democracy if you don’t have a politically educated group of people.” She encourages Smith graduates to remain involved as alumnae and to stay in touch with their college friends. As the interview closes, Jinny adds, “I can’t imagine going to any college but Smith.”

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“My life has been made infinitely richer for knowing the Tibetans, learning about their culture and Tibetan Buddhism.”

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Janet (3rd from right) at 55th reunion, with classmates and Smith President Ruth Simmons (left), 1999

Delivering on a Spiritual Inheritance Janet Kedney woodhull ’44 Interviewed by Patty Fistere Schmidt ’91 and Mary Ward Gover ’56 on March 14, 2008

Janet Kedney Woodhull welcomed us into her gracious south Minneapolis home with an equally gracious smile. Settling into comfortable chairs, we enjoyed coffee and fresh scones and looked around at Janet’s treasures: family photos, etchings of churches, and a plaque recognizing her lifetime of church service. As we listened to her memories, we notice that the recurring themes of her life have been her upbringing in the Episcopal Church, the lasting influence of Smith College, and her dedication to community service.

Involvement with the Episcopal Church goes back a long way in Janet’s family. Her maternal great-grandfather was an Episcopal priest and professor of Ethics and Moral Theology at the old Seabury Divinity School in Faribault, Minnesota. One of her father’s ancestors, William Brewster, was the Pilgrims’ chaplain on the Mayflower and an organizer of their escape from England’s religious persecution.

Early on, Janet’s parents and family became members of Saint Mark’s Episcopal Cathedral in Minneapolis. She often tells people, “I was practically born in the back pew.” Her close association with the church influenced her developing values. There were some negatives, she admits, mentioning that her father did “partake of some of the rampant anti-Semitism

that characterized Minneapolis in the ’30s.”

But she brightened as she confirmed that “he also believed in fairness and integrity,” and she feels that she carried these values to Smith.

Recalling her family’s connection to Smith, Janet chuckled. On forms from the college that asked, “Do you have any Smith relatives?” she was able to list her mother (Florence Fuller Kedney ’10), mother-in-law (Agnes Patton Woodhull ’01), three sisters-in-law, including Helen Woodhull Kramer ’34 (see interview on page 2), her aunt, and “You know, it just goes on and on!” Later the connection continued, with two of Janet’s daughters and two nieces attending Smith.

Even as a young girl, Janet was sure of her desire to go to Smith: “I wanted to go as soon as I was old enough to spell ‘college.’ It never occurred to me to go anyplace else.” In order to improve her chances of being accepted, she strategically spent her last two years of high school at the Northfield Seminary in Northfield, Massachusetts, now Northfield Mount Hermon School. That was “the era when going to those lah-di-dah prep schools in New England was almost a guarantee of your admission to the Ivy League or elite colleges.”

Janet’s favorite mentors at Smith were history professors Leona Gabel and Sidney Packard, and she majored in medieval history.

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2008

She counts among the most exciting and surprising moments of her college life being elected Lawrence House president.

Janet wove her Episcopalian background into memories of Smith by recounting life at St. John’s, a church not affiliated with Smith but located in the heart of campus. While she spent her Friday nights there listening to music, she was also introduced to two rectors who were to become influential in the denomination— Stephen Bayne, who later became a bishop, and Robert Rodenmayer, who left to become a professor and a member of the national staff of the Episcopal Church.

As a member of the class of ’44, Janet had a unique wartime experience. “I became a pacifist at the time the war started, and one of the most awful moments of my life was the night of December 8, 1941, when a college assembly was called. Congress had just declared war.

Mr. Davis [Herbert Davis, Smith’s president] proposed sending a resolution to President Roosevelt pledging the college’s support for the war effort. Asking for a student body vote on this action he asked, ‘All in favor?’ and it seemed everyone stood up and said ‘yes.’ Well, for some reason, my roommate and I were sitting right in the front row of John M. Greene—I don’t know what possessed us to do that. When he said ‘All opposed?’ we hesitantly stood up. The entire auditorium was full, and there were probably 20 people in the whole room standing.”

After that shocking and spontaneous moment, Janet and her fellow objectors regrouped in Sidney Thomson Brown’s room in Lawrence House, where they decided to approach President Davis with their concerns.

Janet recalled that the group said to him, “We want to abstain from the uso stuff everybody is doing.” With astonishment in her voice even now, Janet says that abstaining was perfectly agreeable to him. “He said we should follow our consciences. I thought it was just wonderful! He could so easily have been hurtful, or thought we were crazy, but he didn’t. He was very respectful of our point of view. I’ve always appreciated that, but it was typical of Smith.”

On a lighter note, Janet recalls that during wartime, she and her friends played bridge on Saturday nights instead of dating because the men’s colleges were empty.

“I have, ever since graduation, been very grateful for and impressed by the education we got at Smith. I think the whole concept of

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community service, of doing things for people who needed help, of being true to ourselves (whatever that might be), was just incomparable there.” She continued, “I think Sophia’s dictum about wanting women to have an education as good as men’s was certainly true from the earliest days. Young women were taught to be their best selves and to develop their potential in Smith’s atmosphere of intellectual freedom and intellectual curiosity.”

From Smith, Janet went on to earn a master’s degree in Christian education at Union Theological Seminary in New York.

She recalls, “We had all the best—[Reinhold] Niebuhr and [Paul] Tillich, which blows everybody away.” (She recently attended a lecture about Niebuhr, which she found fun “because I’ve been wondering what modernday theologians think about him”—proof that her intellectual curiosity continues to this day.)

Janet met her future husband, Schuyler (Sky) Woodhull, in Minneapolis when she was home at Christmastime “over a bit of tea—can you believe that?” She described looking up her future husband’s family in the Smith alumnae register and exclaiming to her mother that “anyone with three Smith sisters and a Smith mother can’t be all bad!” From the register, which at that time provided details on all family members, she learned that Sky was a Princeton grad himself.

After marriage and kids, Janet shifted her focus from church work to leading a Girl Scout troop for six years, spanning three daughters.

That work led to more neighborhood organizing and volunteer training. She moved on to the Minneapolis Girl Scout Council and served the next eight years as field director, which she “absolutely loved.”

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In recruiting troop leaders, Janet’s forte emerged. She remembers pointing out to potential Brownie mothers, “Don’t volunteer to be the leader if you don’t like other people’s kids.

You’ve gotta have fun doing this or it won’t work.” When she saw parents who didn’t fit the profile of troop leaders, she encouraged them to support the leader chosen by using their own skills. She put one mom to work as the troop bookkeeper.

“Young women were taught to be their best selves and to develop their potential in Smith’s atmosphere of intellectual freedom and intellectual curiosity.”

From there, Janet “fell, really by accident, into aging (gerontology)” as a field of employment, and stayed there 21 years.

She first joined Mount Sinai Hospital, where she developed a peer-counseling program which trained older volunteers as informal paraprofessional counselors to help other older people. The work was supported by a grant from the Edna McConnell Clark Foundation (which also supported the building of Smith’s McConnell Hall). As Janet points out, “I didn’t know anything about aging, but volunteer management I knew. That was one theme common to all my jobs. I never would have gotten inside the door if the woman who was doing the interviews hadn’t done Girl Scout training with me.”

From that modest beginning, Janet was referred to the University of Minnesota Extension Counseling Department where

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Honored by DARTS, 1997

“So that’s how I ended up being a gerontologist—morphing from a church worker!”

she learned more about the field. As outside funding for the peer-counseling program ended and support in the medical community faltered, she was laid off. But support for Janet herself didn’t waver, and she landed in a joint venture between Group Health and Ebenezer to train more volunteers. She also expanded her skill

base by training respite-care volunteers, who supported family caregivers. She happily recalls, “That was great fun—my favorite thing to do, really.” But there, too, funding was shaky and the position eventually faded away.

A friend of hers then referred her to an organization called darts , at the time an acronym for Dakota Area Resources and Transportation for Seniors. After agreeing to spread the word about an opening at that agency, she realized that she herself should pursue it. At her interview she said, “You know, I’m only two years from retirement,” to which the interviewer replied, “Oh, we don’t care.”

So began another work stint, and “11½ years later, when I was about to be 75, I finally got around to retiring.”

She was thrilled to be at darts . “It is a wonderful agency, and the only one I know of in the state, certainly in the metro area, that provides all the services for seniors under one umbrella. We do chore services, peer counseling, respite care, and financial advice, and it has quadrupled in size since I started. It’s a flourishing agency, and I am very proud of it.”

While there, Janet developed their respite-care program, peer-counseling effort, and other services. She was also able to network with and contribute to two professional groups of gerontologists.

Working on respite care for darts , Janet recruited volunteers to relieve family caregivers, giving them some time for rest and recuperation from the stress and exhaustion that come with caregiving. Her primary message to caregivers—75% are women—was that respite care was for them, to help them take care of themselves and stay healthy. She’d say, “If it’s helpful for your husband, that’s fine, that’s wonderful. But it’s not what the program is

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about.” She remembers one caregiver, a weaver, who had a particularly demanding situation without a minute’s peace. “Her chosen escape when the respite volunteer arrived was to just go downstairs and work on her loom.”

An interesting incident occurred in 1994, when Betty Friedan, Smith class of ’42, spoke at a gerontology conference in Minnesota that Janet helped plan. “She loved our conference and said it was the first one she’d been to that put a positive spin on aging. Most conferences were disease-specific, and we were talking about how to make the most of later years.”

An early player in the developing field of gerontology, Janet received recognition for her work in 1997. “Well I guess I’m going to have to show you the thing that I’m most proud of,” she said, displaying the Minnesota Gerontological Society Award for Outstanding Achievement.

“It was totally unexpected, just out of the blue.”

Janet sums up her career beautifully: “I love people and I love working with them so I just loved every minute. Actually, I think it’s the values I got not only from my family but also from Smith. I certainly learned to love a variety of people at Smith, not just my own little coterie, so to speak.” Finally, she chuckles, “So that’s how I ended up being a gerontologist— morphing from a church worker!”

With their Smith and Princeton backgrounds, Janet and Sky’s first priority for their children was education. And the kids were very happy at the local schools, so the family never moved from their south Minneapolis house. “Can you imagine raising five children with that one bathroom?” Janet laughs. But more than that, she recalls other sacrifices they made because of their focus on education. They never had a color television until their youngest was at the University of Minnesota Duluth,

they only got a second car when Janet went back to work, and they didn’t go out to dinner or travel much because they were saving for college. They paid college tuition for 14 years, and Janet points out that it was only after that was done that they began to travel, making 12 European trips.

Two of their three daughters went to Smith.

Holly Woodhull Churchward ’76, the eldest, “was like me—she wanted to go from the start.”

Allison Woodhull Donelan ’78 was the same and never looked anywhere else.” Daughter Amy graduated from the College of the Pacific in 1981.

As the conversation shifted to the future of Minnesota, Janet didn’t mince words. “We need to get our state back to its former glory of being ahead of the nation in a lot of ways. We’re not anymore. In my opinion we have slipped dramatically by lots of measurements in health care and education.” She went on to include the environment and aging as well.

Thinking about how her values impacted her own family, Janet notes that three of her children are active in the church and her youngest daughter even married a minister.

She adds proudly, “The kids and grandkids all graduated from college or are on their way, and I think they all have a very acute social conscience about things.” They have learned well from Janet, their committed and faithful role model.

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Helen in front of Parsons House at Smith, 1942

Zest for Life and Learning Helen Raynolds anderson ’44 Interviewed by Ann Mitchell Pflaum ’63 and Jessica Petocz ’02 on February 6, 2008

Helen Raynolds Anderson describes the strong ties among Smith alums worldwide as being “like Stanley and Livingstone—even if you didn’t know a person in college, when you come together in far places you share the Smith bond.”

This lively woman chose to enroll at Smith because “I had never seen such enthusiasm and loyalty among college alumnae as I saw among Smith’s graduates. I concluded that it must be a wonderful place. Also, older women I knew who had been at Smith were remarkable for their intelligence and abilities. My older sister, Jinny, adored Smith and of course was a big influence” (see page 12 for interview with Virginia Raynolds Humphrey ’42). And with a great-aunt, Carlene Blunt, who attended Smith in the mid-1890s, and an aunt, Eugenia Blunt, who was there around 1910, there was a strong historical awareness of the college in Helen’s family.

Her ancestors arrived in Minnesota in the 1860s. “My great-grandfather Russell Bennett came here from Connecticut for health reasons.

The Minnesota climate was widely believed to be particularly healthy!” We share a laugh.

“The family, however, continued to look to the East for education.”

As youngsters, the Raynolds children absorbed the importance of honesty, generosity, education, and obeying the law. “During the Depression, when his company was short on

funds to pay employees, my father paid them out of his own pocket,” she remembers. Another example: “During Prohibition, when most of their friends were still enjoying cocktail parties, my parents said, ‘We don’t break the Law of the Land,’ and they abstained.” Their father passed on to his daughters his interest in learning, the outdoors, tennis, astronomy, world affairs, and many other subjects as well.

Her parents weren’t the only ones intent on influencing the girls. Helen commented that she learned from Grandmother Raynolds to love European culture. “She taught Jinny and me about European art by giving us reproductions of masterworks from the Middle Ages, classical Greece, and the Renaissance to hang in our room, and she rotated them periodically. I still have those pictures, among them a reproduction of Benozzo Gozzoli’s fresco Procession of the Magi.” She shows us the picture, adding, “I’ll never forget the thrill of seeing the original when our mother took us to Europe.”

“Another picture our grandmother gave us was a huge photo of a sculpture of Perseus with the Head of Medusa. This created quite a sensation when I brought it to my fourth-grade class for show and tell. Kenwood School in those days was not accustomed to classical nudes, but the teacher was pleased, once she recovered.” Their grandmother also taught

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In France with husband Alan, 2001

Commenting on the picture of a Greek sculpture she brought for fourth-grade show and tell, Helen said, “Kenwood School in those days was not accustomed to classical nudes, but the teacher was pleased, once she recovered.”

Helen and Jinny the Greek myths by acting them out with the girls: “Tales full of heroes, gods, and weird creatures—talk about violence and excitement! We loved those myths!”

Family members also taught by example.

“Grandmother was active in a local study club for women called the Peripatetics as well as a member of a French conversation class. Years

later I, too, joined the Peripatetics and started a French group of my own.”

When Helen arrived at Smith, she found not only instruction but also inspiration from a number of professors, notably Mary Ellen Chase. “A friend and I were enthralled by her—we sat at her feet, took her out for tea.

She was a dramatic teacher, memorable for her course on the King James Bible as literature.

Her class spoiled me for any updated version of the Bible, and gave me a lifelong appreciation for the beauty of its language.”

“Although I was an English major, I took courses in as varied an array of departments as I could. Isn’t that what Liberal Arts is supposed to offer you? The range of courses I took has been a great source of enrichment in the years since college—not specifically in a professional way but in giving me a broad background of

helen raynolds anderson

knowledge in many fields and the wish to keep reading, studying, and trying new things.”

Attending Smith during wartime, Helen was recruited before graduation by a representative of the oss —Office of Strategic Services, precursor of the cia . Headed by General “Wild Bill” Donovan, the oss carried out intelligence research and covert operations. “After security clearance, I went to Washington, dc , where I was assigned as a researcher in the Far East section. I shared a house in Georgetown with five Smith classmates—one in oss , one in Army Intelligence, and three in the Quartermaster Corps. It was a lively household. We had a dog and rabbits, and we entertained servicemen practically nonstop!”

“My responsibilities at oss were to research cities and towns and provide maps, information about street patterns, hospitals, geographic grids—information that would be needed in the event of invasion by our troops. We researched areas in the Philippines, Japan, Halmahera, Celebes, the Kuriles, and other islands, and interviewed people who had escaped ahead of the Japanese. Our work was named the Joint Army Navy Intelligence Survey, janis .

This was a whole new education for me! …

I remember the excitement in the office on June 6, 1944, when we learned it was D-Day. We felt we were at the center of the universe.”

Coloring Helen’s good memories of her oss days is some dismay over current affairs.

“Now I am appalled at what the cia has become—a private army of the President.”

Returning to Minneapolis, Helen married Alan Anderson on September 20, 1947—“the prelude to a happy marriage that has lasted for 61 years!” He had attended Kenwood School three years ahead of her and went on to Harvard College and the Harvard Business

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Living through the Great Depression left Helen with such sayings and practices as “Clean your plate, Wear it out, Make it do, Don’t waste, Don’t acquire more than you can use.”

School before serving in the Army. They had three children—Martha, Wells, and Jane Anderson Howard (smith ’75). Because she experienced grief first-hand with the death of Martha at age 27, Helen continues to be a volunteer facilitator for the Downtown Coalition for Grief Support sponsored by eight downtown churches.

She has been involved in other volunteer activities as well. One of the most satisfying, she says, was serving as a docent at the Minneapolis Institute of Arts. “We had the most wonderful trainer—Joan Adams [Mondale].” Some of the boards Helen has served on or chaired include Planned Parenthood, Children’s Hospital, Washburn Child Guidance Center, the Urban League, the Junior League, Colonial Dames, and Plymouth Congregational Church.

“One of the most rewarding involvements for me was with the Minneapolis Urban League,” she comments. “Before going to Smith I had not known any African Americans. I am everlastingly grateful to the diverse multiracial atmosphere at Smith for showing me a wider world. I made my first black friend there and began to comprehend the terrible inequality that existed in the life that I had taken for granted.”

After daughter Martha’s death in 1975, Helen went to work in her husband’s business, Anderson’s China Shop in downtown

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Minneapolis, a memory of elegance for generations of Minneapolitans. “Helping out at Christmas was hectic as I learned about inventory, postage, and taxes, arranged for gift wrapping, and so on. I wore a button that said, ‘Don’t rush me. I’m making mistakes as fast as I can.’ I enjoyed our annual trips to Europe for the store, where we visited factories, watched glass being blown, and met the factory directors who were always eager to know about the current American preferences. We retained the business, which had been started by Alan’s grandfather, until the 1990s.”

“I made my first black friend [at Smith] and began to comprehend the terrible inequality that existed in the life that I had taken for granted.”

Traveling has been a high point of Helen’s life. “I will always remember climbing to the top of the Duomo in Florence, hundreds of steps, and seeing that beautiful city spread out below. Years of travel with my husband meant pursuing Romanesque churches in the Auvergne, hiking the path along the Cinque Terre in Italy long before so many people were there, climbing every cathedral tower possible, boating down rivers in Russia, and having close encounters with orangutans in the Borneo jungle! A wonderful life.”

“Once you leave Smith you never stop learning,” comments Helen. “After four years the college has you imprinted! We have traveled to many countries, and my Smith legacy has meant that I can feel familiar and at home with

their history, culture, and arts. We go right on reading and stretching our minds and taking courses. We know the importance of being informed citizens and serving our communities.

The values learned at Smith simply require this of her graduates.”

“And the friends I made at Smith have been friends for life. We keep in touch and visit whenever possible. Reunions have been a wonderful chance to catch up with others and to make new bonds. On an Elderhostel trip in the 1990s we came across a pair of elderly Smith sisters from Provincetown. One of them said she had taken up playing the French horn at age 65 and now played in the Provincetown Orchestra. So typical of a Smith graduate to take on something new and difficult!”

Thinking back to other activities, Helen says, “I especially loved being a raptor spotter for several years for a large park reserve system— snowshoeing in February (and sometimes falling into creeks) to map platform nests, and monitoring the nests for great horned owls’ occupancy. Then the next month we’d watch for red-tailed hawks. Great excitement when the various raptors nested successfully! Ospreys and kestrels were also watched, the success of the birds being an indicator of the health of the park. Another time the park called me to help airlift, with net and bucket, leopard frogs across a busy road. They had left their lake and were trying to reach a safe swamp to lay eggs away from hungry fish. A local television station filmed our frantic efforts and interviewed me about the importance of frogs in the ecological chain. Smithies are always ready to try something new!”

One of the most significant historical events shaping Helen’s life was the Great Depression.

“I can remember men coming to the door to ask

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if we needed shoveling or assistance in the yard.

They often were men who were well educated but unable to find jobs and needed money simply to eat. If my mother didn’t feed them, she provided passes to a soup kitchen in the Gateway District at the foot of Hennepin Avenue—a gathering place for crowds of homeless and unemployed men. Although our family had enough resources, awareness of the larger picture left me with such sayings and practices as Clean your plate, Wear it out, Make it do, Don’t waste, Don’t acquire more than you can use. The lessons of that era have lasted all my life.”

“The future looks so uncertain,” says Helen when asked for her thoughts looking forward.

“The only steps I can think of that we should take are to keep informed about national and international affairs, vote as carefully as we can, and work as best we can for the causes to which we can contribute. I’m happy to say that our two children are both contributing to the well-being of the community through their professions and volunteer service.”

“My advice to young alums would add the request that they keep reading and learning in new fields. Their Smith education has prepared them for leadership, and there is a world of opportunities before them.

I don’t think today’s graduates need much of a warning. Smith is turning out spectacular women … look at all those Fulbright awards.

They will stay involved!”

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While working for the OSS in Washington, DC, 1944

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Kathleen (left) was lead skater and organizer of the Rally Day ice show, 1943

Her Feminist Life Kathleen Culman ridder ’45 Interviewed by Cynthia Borowski Dilliard ’79 and Sophia Lenarz-Coy ’07 on April 5, 2008

Kathleen Culman Ridder still has the slight lilt of an Irish lass born in Manhattan in the 1920s. And she definitely still has the feisty determination that has served her well.

She credits her mother with instilling the values that have accompanied her through life: the value of a dollar and the use of connections.

These days we might call that frugality and networking.

Kathleen inherited her spunky resolve from her mother, Muriel MacGuire Culman, who was adamant about giving her daughter opportunities she had not had. Focusing on Kathleen’s education, her mother arranged a scholarship to the elite Brearley School in New York as a step to acceptance at a Seven Sisters college. Kathleen’s aunt and mother ran a successful upscale women’s dress shop at 118 East 60th Street. Luckily, Elizabeth Cutter Morrow, former chair of Smith’s Board of Trustees and acting president of Smith in 1939, was a regular customer. Kathleen’s scholarship application was approved.

Does this mean Kathleen’s path was chosen for her? Hardly. She and her Brearley friends had already obtained a lot of inside information about the women’s colleges—they considered Bryn Mawr too intellectual, Vassar too social, and Smith just right for an all-around student who loved athletics.

All this was at a time when the Depression was a recent memory and World War ii was looming. As Kathleen frankly puts it, “When I was growing up, your function was to find someone to take care of you … you were supposed to find a husband.”

Much of the two years Kathleen spent at Smith seems a blur of keeping her grades up for her scholarship and making friends. But she recalls organizing the ice show at Rally Day sophomore year. She had been a member of the Junior Figure Skating Club of New York and was able to bring quite a show to Paradise Pond, “complete with gypsy costumes, tambourines, a guest skater from New York, and the Smith graduation hymn as the opening music because of its perfect three-beat waltz rhythm.” The management skills she had absorbed at the dress shop, at a time when few young women had that opportunity, made organizing the event easy.

Within two years, she had met the man she wanted to marry, Rob Ridder, but there was a “problem.” He was a member of the Ridder newspaper family and was needed in Duluth, Minnesota, right away. Leaving Smith to get married, she promised her mother that she would complete her degree. The bride and groom moved to Duluth, where she quickly became acclimated. There were family friends

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Kathleen says her regular presence at [Gopher] football games reminds decision makers to maintain support for women’s athletics: “They see me; they know I’m here.”

waiting to meet her and the city size was very manageable. She remembers that Sinclair Lewis lived there and liked to stop by to play chess with Rob. Once settled, Kathleen prepared to finish her degree. Applying to the College of St. Scholastica, she mentioned that she would need a little time off for the birth of her first child.

The college told her they couldn’t have a pregnant woman on campus. So Kathleen applied to Duluth State Teachers College, now the University of Minnesota Duluth. “I never told them anything—I just signed up. I had a wonderful time. I even went on strike.”

Went on strike? Yes, it was in Duluth that Kathleen began her 50-some years of political activism. The successful strike was about getting the Duluth State Teachers College to become a branch of the University of Minnesota, allowing returning veterans to study there on the G.I. Bill. She finished her own degree there, proudly fulfilling the promise she had made to her mother.

In 1947, Rob was transferred by the radio and television part of the Ridder family business to the Twin Cities, which necessitated a household move. They settled in Dakota County, south of Minneapolis–Saint Paul. One day in early 1948 an acquaintance asked Kathleen to be the Republican Caucus leader in her area. She

replied, “What is a Republican Caucus and how do you know I’m a Republican?” “You are,” came the answer. Kathleen accepted that role and by the fall of 1952 she was the county’s Republican Party chairwoman.

Kathleen’s political activities continued to expand. In the 1960s, she was deeply involved in the civil rights movement and worked for school integration. By 1974 she became active in the State gop Feminists. She ran for a seat in the Minnesota House of Representatives in 1978 and 1982 but was unable to get the party’s endorsement. Both times she was defeated by men who were pro-life. Her pro-choice position was unpopular in the Republican Party, but she’s quick to observe that she was lucky enough to have a more secure financial foundation than most people from which to take an unpopular stance.

She held various offices within the city of Mendota Heights from 1969 to 1985. She also served on the State Commission on Human Rights from 1969 to 1972, represented District 15 on the Metropolitan Council from 1979 to 1983, and was a member of the State Board of Continuing Legal Education from 1975 to 1981.

From 1982 to 1988 she was the public member of the accreditation committee for the American Bar Association, called the Section of Legal Education and Admissions to the Bar. The William Mitchell College of Law recognized her with an honorary degree in 1985.

During the 1970s Kathleen did volunteer fund-raising at Breck School as well. When John Littleford became the school’s youngest headmaster in 1974, he quickly determined that Breck needed to focus seriously on fund-raising and asked Kathleen if she would start an office of development at the school. “I was thinking at

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Christmas 2007

the time about getting a job, because I had become aware over time that volunteers did not have the same clout or status as paid professionals in organizations. So when John asked me this, I answered that I’d do it but I’d have to get paid. He said ‘How much?’ I quickly calculated and said ‘$5.50 per hour’—$2 more than I paid my cleaning woman. I knew I was worth it.”

But political advocacy was Kathleen’s real career, a line of work that is, of course, largely unpaid. “I didn’t need to work, but I felt

“When I was growing up, your function was to find someone to take care of you … you were supposed to find a husband.”

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2004

“Don’t think it’s been settled.

Sexism is alive and well.”

strongly that as a woman of privilege I had a responsibility to be politically and socially active in the community.”

In 1982, Kathleen worked with several other women to start the Minnesota Women’s Campaign Fund. The board comprised five Democrats and five Republicans, each of whom contributed $1,000. (One of the other founders was Perrin Brown Lilly ’45, a Democrat, whose interview is on page 36.) The money donated by board members was then used to raise further funds to support women candidates from both parties.

Kathleen had decided early on to work as a feminist within the political system. She felt that a disproportionate number of women were working within the Democratic Party, and, because her roots were in the Republican Party, she sought to effect change there. Her 1998 book, Shaping My Feminist Life: A Memoir,

recounts her public efforts as well as many private moments in great detail. In an emotional scene from the memoir, Kathleen and her husband have an argument at an elegant hotel. She tells him: “I supported you all through your alcoholism, and now you are going to support me through my feminism!”

In another phase of Kathleen’s life, she turned her energies to avid support for women’s athletics, lobbying hard for funds after the passage of Title ix in 1972. She is still on the University of Minnesota Intercollegiate Advisory Council and continues to regularly attend Gopher football games. She says her presence reminds important decision makers to maintain support for women’s athletics: “They see me; they know I’m here.”

As a result of her activities and contributions to the University of Minnesota, she received the Alumni Service Award in 1995. The Regents Award followed in 2002, presented on the day the Ridder Arena and Baseline Tennis Facility opened on campus. Ridder Arena is home to three-time national champion Gopher Women’s Hockey, the first women’s collegiate hockey program to play in a facility dedicated to the sport. Kathleen is also a life trustee of the University of Minnesota Foundation.

For Kathleen, the decision to move to Minnesota was one of the major turning points in her life. She readily admits that she would not have had the same opportunities for community involvement had she stayed in New York.

Asked for advice for young women, Kathleen had several observations to share. She talked passionately about the importance of setting up social networks, learning how to market yourself (“what you need is credentials, credentials,

kathleen culman ridder

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credentials”), and making sure your marriage is a 50-50 deal. She said the feminist movement, which has never successfully incorporated African-American women, needs to reach out to new immigrant groups such as Somali women. She stresses the need for recent graduates to remember ours is a capitalist society, “and that isn’t going to change in your lifetime.” Kathleen offers warnings too: “Don’t think it’s been settled. Sexism is alive and well. Don’t go in thinking it’s going to be a rosy future.”

She speaks critically about Smith for its failure to produce more female leaders at the national level. “How many Smith women are in Congress?” Kathleen asks, noting that Hillary Clinton went to Wellesley. She sees an urgent need for women to become more engaged in politics and thinks that in some very important dimensions, “Smith has lost its way.” She believes the college must shift its focus from inward to outward. Then, she hopes, she’ll be able to name several Smithies in Congress and maybe even one in the White House.

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Recent grads should remember ours is a capitalist society, “and that isn’t going to change in your lifetime.”

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Perrin Lilly with youngest granddaughter Perrin Hutcheson

An Activist with Her Heart at Home Perrin Brown lilly ’45 Interviewed by Sophia Lenarz-Coy ’07 and Cynthia Borowski Dilliard ’79 on March 1, 2008

“Minnesota people, especially in Saint Paul, are rooted here,” Perrin Brown Lilly began, adding with a laugh, “We don’t move around the way our East Coast friends do!”

When first asked to speak about her values and life experiences, Perrin seemed surprised that anyone would find her story interesting.

A true Midwesterner, she says her values, like those of many others, have been shaped by decades surrounded by a close-knit family and service to the community. If she “has made any contribution,” she insists, it has always been through family and community.

Perrin’s father settled in Saint Paul in 1920 and her roots have remained here ever since.

Today she resides in a stately house gracing a bluff overlooking the Mississippi River and downtown Saint Paul. The house reveals a spectacular view from its south-facing garden room, which Perrin and her husband added years ago. Sitting in the sun-filled room, looking at the lush indoor greenery, it was easy to forget the 30-degree weather outside.

In 1940 when Perrin was approaching graduation from Summit School, a private preparatory school for girls that later merged with Saint Paul Academy, it was not uncommon for Midwesterners to head east for college.

Perrin recalls that four or five girls out of the 22 in her graduating class went on to Smith, including Perrin’s sister. Though her grandfather

didn’t approve of women going to college, he liked Smith because it had “a sensible name,” unlike “fancy names like Wellesley or Vassar or Radcliffe.” There was no trip beforehand to look it over, since it was too far away. “If you got in, you went!”

Perrin has bittersweet memories of her time at Smith. With World War ii already started and the United States entering the war in 1941, “It wasn’t exactly a happy, carefree place,” she recalls solemnly. “Girls were always hysterical because their boyfriends were being called [to war], or their brothers. Very emotional. So I don’t look upon those years as lots of fun … though, of course, there was fun.”

Perrin was quick to credit the college and her time there for both her rigorous education and her personal growth. She described Smith as “demanding then as it is now” and a “liberalizing place” where, for instance, she sat at the dinner table for the first time with an African American. The open-mindedness she experienced became the foundation for her later activism and community service.

An English major, Perrin was particularly challenged by the teachings of Mary Ellen Chase, the Smith professor who had the most significant influence on her. Though Ms. Chase required lots of hard work from her students, Perrin loved and appreciated that time with her professor. “She was very dramatic,” Perrin

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Though her grandfather didn’t approve of women going to college, he liked Smith because it had “a sensible name,” unlike “fancy names like Wellesley or Vassar or Radcliffe.”

“One step forward and two steps back. They’re going to chip away at Roe v. Wade, but it will always be there. I’m confident of that.”

explained. “She taught us to read every word.

We had quizzes where we had to know each sentence, word by word. We learned that words are important.” With this training, along with classes in art history, Perrin left Smith with a deep love of art and literature.

Soon after graduation, Perrin married David Lilly and settled into life at home. With a smile she told us, “I can be a great enthusiast for the life of a homemaker without a professional career. I was lucky—I was comfortably supported by my husband.” But she was not isolated. It was through her involvement with the Junior League of Saint Paul that Perrin began to see what was needed in the community outside her home.

Politics was a big draw, and she became what she calls a “political junkie.” Her activism grew in the early ’80s when then–Lieutenant Governor Marlene Johnson brought a group

of women together to support female candidates who were pro-choice. Contributors were asked to pledge $1,000 each to the new Minnesota Women’s Campaign Fund. At the time, women were not on equal par with men when it came to contributing to political campaigns. Perrin admits, “For the first time we were asking women to give their own money, or what they could get from their husbands, to support women’s campaigns.

And believe me, a $1,000 commitment was big. It’s made a huge difference all these years, to be promoting women for offices around the state, at the legislature, and on to the u.s. House and Senate.”

The Women’s Campaign Fund was nonpartisan, Perrin explained, but “the bottom line was pro-choice. So of course in the early days we had a few Republican candidates who were running as pro-choice. But we all know what’s happened.” At this point, Perrin stops to editorialize. “Fewer and fewer women … or fewer and fewer anyone in the Republican Party … can be nominated if they’re pro-choice.”

Looking back on her involvement as a founding board member of the Minnesota Women’s Campaign Fund, Perrin is proud of having been part of what is still the most influential statewide women’s political action committee in the country. “That was a lot of fun,” she exclaimed with obvious pleasure.

“It made me love the whole political thing!”

Not surprisingly, Perrin has also had close ties to Planned Parenthood. She served two terms on the board, and her passion for the topic is intertwined with her personal view on the importance of family. “The more I got into it, the more I was convinced that it’s a civil right for women to be able to choose when and when not to have a family,” she explained.

perrin brown lilly

“I’m devastated by the thought of unwanted children.” She continues to work for this human right, now joined by her daughter Susanne Hutcheson, who has served as Planned Parenthood’s board chair. “One step forward and two steps back. They’re going to chip away at Roe v. Wade, but it will always be there.

I’m confident of that.”

Asked about other groups that are close to her heart, she says with a self-deprecating laugh, “The list is endless and it makes me look like a dilettante.” Arts groups include the Ordway Center for the Performing Arts, Friends of the Saint Paul Public Library, Walker Art Center, compass , and the former Chimera Theatre.

Her association with Women Against Military Madness reflects an antiwar passion in her life, or as she puts it, “anti-Vietnam then, anti-Iraq now.” Perrin credits her husband’s active corporate and community life (Saint Paul Riverfront and the Ordway, among others) with opening other opportunities to her. In Washington, dc , where he served as governor of the Federal Reserve Board, she became involved with Common Cause, a nonprofit focused on holding elected leaders accountable to the public interest. Currently Perrin sits on the board of New Foundations, which helps recovering alcoholics.

“In a town the size of Saint Paul, you can really make a difference,” Perrin notes. “You’re not lost in the crowd. If you’re loyal and eager to do something for your hometown, you can be on a lot of boards. They all were or are significant in their own way, with various missions. It got me out there meeting all kinds of people whom I came to know as friends.”

Asked what she is most proud of, Perrin quickly responds with three simple words … raising a family. Her children (two sons and

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a daughter) and grandchildren are her greatest satisfaction. Happily for her they all live close by. “Being a homemaker and mother is the most creative thing you can do,” she explained. “I’ve loved it. At any age, kids and grandkids are fun and the best way to keep up with our fastmoving world.”

Her advice to recent Smith graduates echoes this sentiment. “Although the world of commerce sounds exciting, if you can afford it, don’t avoid choosing to be a full-time parent.

It’s a very worthy profession!”

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“Although the world of commerce sounds exciting, if you can afford it, don’t avoid choosing to be a full-time parent.

It’s a very worthy profession!”

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Joanne (left) with Jane Deacon ’44, Park House housemate and a member of the very prestigious “Grass Cops”—students who patrolled campus to keep people on paths and off the grass

Rethinking Values, Upending Intolerance Joanne Witmer von blon ’45 Interviewed by Judy Neiswander ’69 and Molly Duff Woehrlin ’53 on July 11, 2008

With a volunteer résumé of community service, activism, and advocacy as thick and impressive as any professional’s, Joanne Witmer Von Blon’s passions are diverse and still going strong.

Joanne credits attitudes and friends at Smith not only with inspiring her lifelong love of literature (she majored in English and philosophy) but also her fierce advocacy of social justice, “upending” some of her family’s intolerance that was so typical of the times.

She has remained true to both passions.

She was born in Minneapolis, but knows little about her father’s or mother’s families.

“I was so closed that I never asked why my family came to Minnesota.” She does know that her mother was from Iowa (her grandfather owned a shoe store there) and her father from Pennsylvania, the only boy with 13 older sisters.

After her parents divorced, she grew up in “a sort of stepfamily … probably not the best childhood from my point of view. I didn’t care much for my stepfather, although when I was an adult I learned to love him.”

What Joanne learned from her parents was that “It wasn’t good that Jews were moving into the neighborhood,” that “Catholics had a hard look around the mouth,” that we should “Feel sorry for poor people,” that “Negroes were just not in the picture,” and that “Republicans were much better than Democrats.”

Those values were overturned at Smith.

“I’ll never forget on one of my first days at Smith walking down Elm Street with a housemate, Judy Stavitsky. She said something about being Jewish. …Here was this nice girl I wanted to be friends with, and she was Jewish.

The whole world opened up.”

“By the time I graduated, I was practically a Communist!” (Now she calls herself a “moderate Democrat.”) “But we learned in college that some things were wrong—that you should question them. Being at Smith with other young women who were rethinking their values changed us all.”

Joanne’s mother, who briefly attended the University of Minnesota before going to work, planned “that I would grow up to be and do something more than she had—although she had accomplishments of her own, being a champion golfer. But she sent me to Northrop Collegiate to get educated.” Joanne believes she may be the first person in her family to finish college.

Joanne chose Smith because it had a wonderful reputation and a good English department, and “I had wanted to be an English major from the time I was a little kid.” She was impressed that Harold Faulkner, author of a history text used at Northrop, was a professor at Smith. And Minneapolis had a lot of respected Smith alumnae.

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1927

When her mother took her to visit colleges, she thought “Vassar looked very snobby … and Wellesley, well, all the buildings looked the same. When we got to Smith, I loved the diversity and combination of old and new.

I really felt at home there from the beginning.”

The option of coeducation did not sway her.

“I wanted the prestige of going to one of these women’s colleges. I’m still proud of them.”

Joanne’s Smith class of 1945 was “accelerated,” since it was wartime, by including two summer sessions. In college she met Philip Von Blon, “a scholarship kid at Amherst” and “very smart.”

The two were married in 1945 while Joanne was still at Smith. This situation, according to Joanne, was “simply horrible.” By then, Phil was living in New York; he was classified 4f so instead of going to war had a head start on the first of his three careers. He would come for a

weekend during summer school. “We all lived in the Quad, and the smoking room was right outside the guest room, where he would have to stay. So we would trot into bed together with all these girls next door. I can tell you it was not conducive to a good honeymoon relationship.”

One or two professors at Smith had a lasting effect. “Mary Ellen Chase—I can still see her crossing back and forth in front of the room, proclaiming, ‘There are three types of lit-rachah: ma-jah, mi-nah, and medi-o-cah lit-rachah.’ She started me down this road. I’ve always been a voracious reader, and to this day I just swallow books whole.”

Philosophy classes also challenged her thinking. “Smith really set me on the path toward my belief system—or in my case, my unbelief system. In Mr. Lazerowitz’s philosophy course, we studied, among others, the transcendentalists. I thought Emerson was just fabulous, but then I got to Thoreau (I learned to pronounce it THOReau). I decided that was it—nature and I as part of one universe and our closeness to wilderness and animals.”

“That has stayed with me to this day, and I have fiercely called myself an atheist because it is true, and also because it is a word that shocks people.” Joanne’s grandson, when she told him she was an atheist, said, “Granny!”

Joanne responded, “Look, if I told you I were a humanist or a secularist, it wouldn’t bother you a bit.” Joanne notes that “Our beliefs evolve over years, but I think Smith set me on the track.”

Another influence at Smith was Joanne’s “alter-ego” Joan Mitchell, a housemate and an artist who became a friend forever. “Joan said early on, ‘You have to look at modern art. You have to look and look and look, and then you’ll begin to understand.’ So Phil and I began to

joanne witmer von blon

look and look and look, and art turned into a lifelong interest and love.” Phil has been on the Walker Art Center board for years, and their own art collection is extensive.

After college, Joanne joined Phil in New York, where she went to work at Irving Trust Company at One Wall Street in the foreign operations department. Today, when her husband teases her about working for a bank, she tells him it paid $25 a week more than either Time or Newsweek, where she’d also applied.

“In my day, it was the unusual woman who had a career. You went to college. You got married.

You had children. And Smith Professor Hans Kohn used to say, ‘When you educate a woman, you educate an entire family.’”

Moving back to Minneapolis in 1945, Joanne put her English major to good use. For 12 years she reviewed books for the Minneapolis Star and Minneapolis Tribune. She was a founding member of the Center for Book Arts and also of nonprofit publisher Milkweed Editions. She was on the board of the Loft Literary Center and co-chaired that organization’s $1 million endowment campaign to match a Ford grant.

Now, in 2008, she’s an active member of the board of Graywolf Press and a member of two book clubs—in Minneapolis and in Tucson, where the Von Blons spend winters.

Recalling the experience that spurred her other passion, social advocacy, she is still emotional: “In the late ’40s, I was asked by my mother’s friend to drive her two maids from Tucson to White Bear Lake [Minnesota]. They were black. And I think that changed my life.

Driving those two nice women across the bowels of Jim Crow country and trying to find rooms and restaurants was absolutely horrifying.

I learned how cruel people can be, and how generous strangers can be.”

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With “High Hope”

According to Professor Mary Ellen Chase, “There are three types of lit-ra-chah: ma-jah, mi-nah,

and medi-o-cah lit-ra-chah.”

Race relations became a focal part of Joanne’s social justice advocacy. In 1954–55 she chaired the mayor’s Joint Committee for Equal Opportunity, working on employment policies and housing. She won an award as a volunteer for the Urban League and lobbied the legislature in support of the Fair Employment Practices Commission. She and the director of the state naacp were attending a University of Minnesota Board of Regents meeting, urging them to change discriminatory student housing policies, on the day in 1954 that the Brown v. the Board of Education decision came down from the u.s. Supreme Court. Joanne did public speaking and gave seminars on institutional racism in later years. She believes attitudes are changing now, “But I still think we are victims of stereotypical thinking.”

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Receiving her 2nd degree black belt from Japan Karate Association

“I have fiercely called myself an atheist because it is true, and also because it is a word that shocks people.”

Joanne’s interest in the environment has led to work with several organizations, including the Nature Conservancy, where she has served on the board of the Minnesota chapter. It also led to wilderness travels—treks in the Sinai and all over Africa, scuba diving off the coasts of Israel and Australia, and solitary hikes in Wyoming. She even went to mountain climbing school in the Grand Tetons and climbed “The Grand.”

Two special moments, one celebratory and one frightening, surfaced during the interview.

When Phil was chairman of the Minnesota State Arts Board, they were invited to Lyndon Johnson’s White House. “Everybody there was famous except us.” In the reception line, “We had to wear long gloves and take off one, and all we were allowed to say was ‘Good evening, Mr.

President.’ Dinner in the state dining room was absolutely delicious. …As the President gave a toast, we were to stand up, and I knocked my chair over backwards with a crash. Gregory Peck, seated behind me, got up and picked up my chair, and of course I was horrified. After dinner, Lyndon Johnson came down off the dais, took my arm, and led me out as the group moved on to another room for dancing. It was the kindest gesture. I danced with Hubert Humphrey. It was all wonderful!”

Not so wonderful was a near-death accident in Alaska at the end of a small-boat trip with the National Resources Defense Council. A group of seven took a little skiff to get closer to a glacier. “It was such a lovely pale blue-green.”

After they heard “a kind of hissing” noise, the ten-story top of the fascia broke away and came down on top of them, overturning the skiff and tossing them into the icy water—heavy clothes, life preservers, and all. “froom , I’m thrown deep into this water and get stirred around like iced tea, then pop to the surface. I look out and there is a sea lion looking at me. I remember thinking two things: one, I am not frightened, and two, I am going to survive this.” She remembers seeing Phil, graycolored and with his head bleeding. “We were probably in the water 20 or 25 minutes—one man had a heart attack, another a punctured lung, and Phil couldn’t breathe because his camera strap was caught across his neck.” They were eventually rescued and all survived. The experience taught her that “At the time of a sudden death there is no fear.” This knowledge comforted her when her first grandson died tragically in a mountaineering accident.

Joanne’s words of wisdom for recent grads include these: “Keep your body moving and

joanne witmer von blon

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Mr. and Mrs. Philip Von Blon, 1943

read, read, read.” Other words that she lives by are: “Show up, pay attention, tell the truth, and don’t become attached to an outcome.”

She comments, “When you show up, you say yes to people who ask you, and by doing that you can open up whole new worlds. By paying attention, you are aware of what you love and where that can take you. And tell the truth— absolutely. Probably the most important is don’t become attached to an outcome; if you think you know how things are going to happen, you are closing yourself off to a lot of possibilities.”

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“Driving those two nice [black] women across the bowels of Jim Crow country and trying to find rooms and restaurants was absolutely horrifying.

I learned how cruel people can be, and how generous strangers can be.”

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Sally as the lead in the Rally Day show during her senior year at Smith, 1946

Paying a Debt to Society Sally Whitney pillsbury ’46 Interviewed by Molly Duff Woehrlin ’53 and Judy Neiswander ’69 on February 13, 2008

A cross between an elegant sophisticate and a tomboy, Sally Whitney Pillsbury has endless energy and lives life to its fullest at a meteoric pace. Whether she’s graciously welcoming national political figures to receptions at her lovely Lake Minnetonka home or producing her famous ear-splitting two-fingered whistle, Sally is always herself—no pretense, straightforward, and excited about new ideas, activities, and movements.

Throughout life Sally has constantly been active in her community in terms of politics, the arts, and serving those in need. This bias toward action emerged in her childhood. “My father was, in my growing up years, the manager of the Northern States Power Company in St. Cloud, Minnesota. There was a big fight at the power company because the City Council wanted to take the company over.” The council decided to hold an election in which citizens had an opportunity to vote on whether or not to make the power company publicly owned. So Sally took action. “When I was just seven years old, I had a little sign on my bike that said ‘vote no.’”

Sally tells the story of how her mother, Katharine Kimball Whitney (smith ’20), became a Minnesotan. “My mother came from Portland, Maine, to St. Cloud, Minnesota, to visit her Smith roommate, Mary Stuart Snyder.

‘Aunt Mary Stuart’ said to her, ‘Kimmie, you

must come out and meet this wonderful man.’”

The wonderful man, Wheelock Whitney, became Kimmie’s husband.

Sally’s father’s side of the family came to Minnesota as pioneers. Originally from the Genesee Valley of New York, her greatgrandfather, Ephraim Whitney, lived in a farming community that is now Robbinsdale.

Her grandfather a.g. (Albert Gideon) Whitney was born in Robbinsdale in 1862 and as a young man moved to the town of Sauk Centre. Eventually a.g. moved to St. Cloud, where he met his wife, who coincidentally was also from the Genesee Valley. “She came to St. Cloud to visit her sister at what was then called a Normal School. Today it is St. Cloud State University. When I was growing up it was called St. Cloud Teachers College. They met there in 1892 and were married.”

Sally’s grandfather a.g. , as was true of many pioneers, “was in and out of debt a whole lot, but he ended up out of debt; as repayment for one of the loans he made he received the St. Cloud Power and Light Company.” unfortunately, “My grandfather died the week after my mother and father were married, so I never got to know him.” A broker and friend, Glen Traer, who worked at what was then called Piper, Jaffray & Hopwood, persuaded her father to sell St. Cloud Power and Light Company to Northern States Power Company. “Uncle Glen

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was a genius, and he had this idea that there should be a transcontinental bus line. He obtained permits from Washington and found two gentlemen who were running a bus line from Hibbing to Duluth. Together my father and Glen bought the line, taking over what became the Greyhound Lines.” Later, during World War ii , Sally’s father worked in the u.s. Transportation Department.

Although her parents lived in St. Cloud, Sally was born in Minneapolis; her mother came down to the Twin Cities to give birth because of the superior medical facilities here.

In time, the family visited Lake Minnetonka often because (she theorizes) “though I never asked them, Dad was worrying about Mother’s obviously not knowing anybody in St. Cloud.

But she did have several friends in Minneapolis.

We rented and later built a house in Orono. My father used to commute down from St. Cloud Wednesdays and weekends in the summertime.”

Through her primary school years Sally attended a school in St. Cloud called Riverview, a lab school connected with St. Cloud Teachers College. “Then I went to Central Junior High in St. Cloud, and when I was a sophomore transferred to Madeira,” a girls’ preparatory school near Washington, dc .

Asked what brought her to Smith, Sally said, “From Day One, I was always going to go to Smith College. There was no question.” Not only had Sally’s mother attended Smith, but 16 girls in her class at Madeira were accepted.

“It was a different situation than it is today.

It was just sort of automatic. You had to pass College Boards, but it was much easier to get into college at that time.”

Sally’s dorm assignment came about in an interesting way. “Bernice Dalrymple ’10, a family friend from Minnesota, was a Smith Trustee and she had lived in Hubbard House.

Her daughter, Cynthia ’43, had also lived in Hubbard House, so Mrs. Dalrymple made sure I lived in Hubbard House.”

Two Smith faculty members were particularly inspirational. “One was Mary Ellen Chase. Mrs. Dalrymple also made sure that I got into Mary Ellen Chase’s freshman English class. She really helped me learn how to write.

She even stopped my stammer. I used to do it a lot more and still do sometimes.”

Another who influenced Sally was Gwendolyn Carter, professor of government, Sally’s major. “She was very intellectual and a great teacher, and was very influential in getting me interested in the field. I remember writing her later that I bet I was one of the very few in her classes who went on to work in politics. I’ve never run for or held public office, but I’ve run a great many campaigns and raised a great deal of money.”

Regarding her commitment to social activism, Sally says, “Actually, the person who was the biggest influence was Miss [Lucy] Madeira. She founded the school in 1906 in the city of Washington. In 1924, David Wing (her husband) bought the Greenway, Virginia, property. The Eugene Meyer family, neighbors

sally whitney pillsbury

and publishers of the Washington Post, paid half the construction costs. Miss Madeira was very interested in the fact that we were rather privileged people in our school and that we owed our neighbors and our country. She talked about that all the time.”

Sally was also quite interested in the arts, particularly theater arts. “I was very active in Smith’s Rally Day shows—I was the lead my senior year.” Another theatrical venture of Sally’s paid off with a role in a play her freshman year. “I read in the paper, the scam (that’s what Smith’s student newspaper was called then), that there were going to be tryouts for this play. It turned out to be a disaster for me because I was the only person who was not a drama major. Everyone else was getting credit for the work, but I was falling behind in mine because it took so much time to rehearse. An interesting thing about that play was that the lead was Nancy Davis, and she went on to become Nancy Reagan. I can’t remember the name of the play, but it was lots of fun.”

Finally, Sally’s fascination with government and the exciting world of elective politics prevailed over other interests. “I knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to be a pollster. There were two large ones. One was Gallup, of course, and the other was a guy named Elmo Roper and I was offered a job by Roper. I did polling work at Smith as extracurricular work.”

In 1945, the summer after her junior year, Sally worked as a lifeguard at Woodhill Country Club in Wayzata, Minnesota. A club member, who had a son serving in the military, approached her and said, “Sally, I don’t want you to rush off and get married just because there is a war on and so many young people are getting married. You must remember that there are still lots of nice boys overseas.” Answered Sally,

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“I don’t plan to get married. I’m going to New York—I have a polling job after I graduate and I’m very excited about it.” Even so, the summer following graduation, Sally met and became engaged to the member’s son, George Pillsbury, and they were married six months later.

When George began as a trainee with the Pillsbury Company, he and Sally moved to New York. There Sally became involved in Harold Stassen’s presidential campaign of 1948. “I was wanting to do something. One reason that women of my age were very interested [in politics] was because of Harold Stassen. He motivated all kinds of young people to work in politics. If they couldn’t get out of their house to go work in a headquarters, people had lists at home that they called and polled. He was very inspirational, Harold Stassen was. He was governor [of Minnesota] when he was 33 years old.”

“When I was just seven years old, I had a little sign on my bike that said ‘vote no.’”

Stassen lost the national Republican nomination to Dewey, who lost the race for president to Truman. When Dewey won the nomination, though, Sally went to work at his headquarters in New York. Then, when General Eisenhower ran for president in 1952, Sally was asked to work at his headquarters at the Blackstone Hotel in Chicago because of her prior experience on presidential campaigns.

“I was only about 25 years old! I was a receptionist and I saw every single person who came by to meet General Eisenhower.

Senators and delegates and congressmen, everyone! When visitors arrived, I sent slips

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back to the appointment secretary.” Many years later, Sally again worked on presidential campaigns, serving for three elections as the Minnesota finance chair for “George Bush the dad.” Sally had first met George h.w. Bush when she was 18, through Barbara Pierce (Bush) who was in the Smith class of 1947.

While Sally has been deeply involved in Republican campaigns over the years, she especially enjoyed working on her husband’s successful campaigns for the Minnesota Senate.

“We’re a good match. We’ve been married 61 years!”

Still active in the Republican Party, Sally organized the “Big Tent Celebration” at the 2008 Republican National Convention in Minnesota for the national organization Republican Majority for Choice. “They had a similar event in 2004 in New York at the Republican National Convention and it was a big success.” With more than 500 attendees, Sally’s 2008 event was a big success as well. “It was at one of the most fantastic houses in Saint Paul—a house built for Louis Hill, the son of James J. Hill, the railroad magnate. It has a ballroom where F. Scott Fitzgerald and his pals used to dance the night away.” Sally claims this

will be her swan song in politics, but somehow that’s hard to believe!

Sally’s connection to today’s Republican Majority for Choice may have started in her New York days. “In New York at that time abortion wasn’t an issue. Birth control was the big issue. We were called Mothers’ Health Centers instead of Planned Parenthood.” Sally became active with Planned Parenthood in Minnesota upon her move back here and has remained involved ever since. When asked what significant issues in history have impacted her most, Sally adamantly states, “Population—to me and to my husband George too—is the biggest issue.”

Not surprisingly, Sally’s involvement with birth control and maternal/child health spawned a broader interest in health care.

“I served on the Board of Governors of the University of Minnesota Hospitals when they first had a Board of Governors. That was an extraordinarily interesting experience and I learned a lot about governance.” Sally served as board chair when the new hospital on the river (now University of Minnesota Medical Center, Fairview) was built.

Besides political activities, Sally has been a board member of more than 35 not-for-profit organizations ranging from social services to the arts. “I have been involved with the Pillsbury House, today called the Pillsbury United Communities. There are only two neighborhood house organizations in Minneapolis now; the other is Phyllis Wheatley, which is important historically because in the 1900s, even practically up to the ’40s, black kids could not play on neighborhood teams. Isn’t that terrible? So black kids could come to the neighborhood house for games, for boxing, whatever. And when black entertainers came to town, they

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would go and rehearse at the Phyllis Wheatley House.”

“Pillsbury was the largest neighborhood house for a long time. Now it is a conglomeration of neighborhood houses. In fact, one of those is Waite.” [It was the yellow Waite bus that was leaning on the i-35w bridge when it collapsed in 2007, nearly plunging a bus full of children into the Mississippi River.]

Sally is a lifetime member of the board of the Guthrie Theater. She believes the Guthrie has had a huge impact on the cultural life of Minnesota. “It’s certainly brought a large amount of theater to Minneapolis—in fact, all over the state.” She continues to take part in Arts Advocacy Day at the State Capitol, which drew more than 500 people in 2007. This annual event gives advocates the opportunity to visit legislators and urge them to increase appropriations to the arts community.

Sally’s fund-raising talents have served Smith as well. She currently is Special Gifts chair for her class for the fourth time. “In our 50th reunion year our class made 90% participation, which is just incredible —to get near 60% is very, very good. Our class has been very enthusiastic about Smith to this day. We are not as wealthy as some other classes, but we are very competitive.”

“Now it is much different raising money for Smith because of the fact that so many young graduates are working,” says Sally. “For my 15th reunion, Smith told us, ‘We prefer you use Crane’s stationery and hand-written notes.’

That was when graduates had more time and no computers.”

Sally and George’s commitment to public service shows up in their children as well. “Our oldest son, Charles, is head of Community Mediation in New Haven, Connecticut. His

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“For my 15th reunion, Smith told us, ‘We prefer you use Crane’s stationery and hand-written notes.’ That was when graduates had more time and no computers.”

organization both mediates and teaches people to be mediators. One time there was a riot at a football game in a suburb of New Haven and, because police had been trained to be mediators and because they had trained some leaders in the schools to be mediators, they just quelled it right away. It’s really a fabulous thing.”

Son George and daughter Sarah both started community foundations. “Then George went into voter education. In western Pennsylvania (Pittsburgh), where they worked, there was twice the voter turnout there was in Philadelphia.

Isn’t that amazing? Sarah is an independent movie producer and has produced nine feature films and several for tv . She has won both an Oscar and an Emmy. Katharine, our youngest, lives with her partner and two children in Newton Highlands, Massachusetts. She, too, is active in the nonprofit world—particularly in the glsen (Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network).” Sally and George have 10 grandchildren, and it looks like most will become or already are active in the not-forprofit world.

Sally herself embodies Miss Madeira’s hope that her privileged students would pay their debt to society through social activism and public service. Her advice to young Smith grads is even broader: “Step forward in your community. It doesn’t have to be in public service work … there are a lot of things one can do!”

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Martha, 2007

A Lake Superior Perspective Martha Butler alworth ’47 Interviewed by Laurie Maloff Kramer ’69 on August 28, 2008

Martha Butler Alworth has a big name.

In fact, she has two big names.

Pierce Butler, Associate Justice of the u.s. Supreme Court from 1923 to 1939, was her grandfather. Butler Construction, founded by her grandfather’s brothers, built the Holland Tunnel in New York City. Other Butler relatives were involved in the Saint Paul–based law firm Doherty Rumble & Butler, the oldest law firm in the Twin Cities at the time of its closing in 1999.

On the Alworth side, her husband’s grandfather Marshall H. Alworth had extensive land holdings and mineral rights on the Iron Range and additional business interests in Duluth. Among the many memorials to the family’s generosity are the Marshall H. & Nellie Alworth Scholarship Fund, named for Martha’s husband’s grandparents; the Marshall W. Alworth Planetarium, named for her husband’s uncle; and the Royal D. Alworth, Jr. Institute for International Studies, named for Martha’s husband, all at the University of Minnesota Duluth.

As Martha tells it, hers is “an American story.” Immigrants on both sides of her family left Ireland, crossed the Atlantic, and then made their way from the East Coast out to the Heartland. Family legends tell of greatgrandfather Butler coming by boat up the Mississippi and disembarking in a river town,

and grandfather Alworth walking from upstate New York to Minnesota’s Iron Range.

Martha herself is an outspoken, forwardlooking representative of these family traditions— and the matriarch of her own clan of six children and 10 grandchildren. With white wavy hair, large red-framed glasses, and a friendly smile, she speaks easily about her many adventures.

Our interview took place at Martha’s Duluth home, atop a steep hill overlooking Lake Superior. She’s lived there 50 years—the last 20 as a widow—and doesn’t intend to move.

“I can’t picture myself in a condominium. I’ve warned my kids, ‘I picked up after you. You’ll have to pick up after me when I go,’” she says with a laugh.

We talked in Martha’s den, a sunny room with comfortable furniture and family photos from many generations. She sat in an armchair strategically placed to give her a good view down a long hallway of the open back door of the house. At one point during the interview, she heard a slight noise from the back door.

Martha looked up and said, “Oh, I know what they want.”

She walked briskly down the hall and opened the screen door to two young men, one black and one white, who stood there with tennis rackets. “Hello Mrs. Alworth, is it ok if we play on your tennis court?” Martha said yes,

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and also said it was fine if they parked in her driveway. She asked them their names, which were Tom and Elvis. I was curious. “You let strangers play on your court?” “Oh yes. I did something to my shoulder and can’t play anymore. I’m glad there are people playing tennis—I wish I could, and I get a vicarious kick from seeing the court used. When the nearby public court gets crowded, people just come over and ask.”

Martha’s family was Irish Catholic. Her parents moved to California but then divorced, a “shocking thing” at the time. But her mother was independent. After the divorce, she moved back to Minnesota with her two daughters, Martha and her older sister, Mary. Martha believes her mother chose to live in Duluth so as to be close—but not too close—to her own mother, who lived in Hibbing.

Having no contact with her father after the divorce, Martha learned all her values from her mother. The most important value was both simple and profound: “Accept people as they are.

We’re all part of humanity.”

In 1937, her mother decided to take the two girls to Europe. The girls studied first in Switzerland and then in Italy, at an Englishspeaking school headed by a Boston woman who greatly admired Mussolini. Every morning the girls were required to sing a Mussolini Youth song. To this day, Martha can repeat and scoffs at the Italian words for “The Leader (Il Duce) will never die.”

They spent the summer of 1939 in Paris; the girls were planning to attend school nearby that fall. But waiters started to disappear from restaurants and were said to be headed to the German front. It became clear that war was imminent. “There was an enormous amount of talk about the Maginot Line,” Martha recalls.

“The French depended on the Maginot Line.

Today it seems so silly, as if they’d put up some dental floss and thought that was going to hold back the Germans.”

Martha’s mother realized she had to get the family out of Europe. But Mary had suddenly developed spots, possibly from scarlet fever.

Martha’s mother took Mary to a French doctor and swore him to secrecy. Then she went to every booking agency in Paris looking for tickets on any transatlantic ship.

“I remember going over to the American Embassy. The Ambassador was William Bullitt, and his daughter was sitting at a desk there and she helped us somehow. … The day before the boat was going to leave, we went to American Express—there were police holding back the crowds. My mother’s travel agent was waving a white envelope over his head.” He had gotten them the last stateroom on the Queen Mary.

There were only two bunks in the stateroom, he said, but her mother said no problem—Martha would sleep on a mattress on the floor.

Returning to their hotel, they powdered Mary up so her spots wouldn’t show. She looked “pale but well,” Martha remembers.

It was the last voyage made by the Queen Mary going west before it was turned into a troop ship. Martha remembers the crossing well.

It was not a luxury crossing. The ship was very crowded, but there were no complaints. Many passengers slept in temporary dormitory bunks set up in the children’s playroom and other salons.

They were at sea on September 1, 1939, when Hitler invaded Poland. Everyone gathered in the salon to listen to radio reports. Many Jewish refugees were on board, fleeing for their lives, and they were, of course, very anxious about families left behind. But everyone on board was

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glad to be facing “the right way.” A man standing next to her mother as the ship entered New York Harbor addressed the Statue of Liberty: “Lady, if you ever want to see me again, you will have to turn around.”

Arriving in New York, Martha was shocked to find that the city’s people seemed more concerned about who would win the World Series than about the outbreak of war in Europe.

(The Yankees were, as usual, in the Series.)

“No one seemed to notice that the Germans had marched into Poland. I remember thinking ‘what’s the matter with these people?’”

Continuing on by train to Duluth, Martha spent her high school years at a private school for girls. When it was time to choose a college, her mother made a journey alone, eventually deciding on the College of New Rochelle in Westchester County, New York. But the Catholic women’s college was not a great fit for a Minnesota girl, partly because most students had families nearby and went home every weekend. So during her freshman year at New Rochelle, Martha and her mother looked together for another college.

Visiting Smith, “I just liked the feeling and I liked the looks,” Martha says, and she transferred after freshman year. She was very happy at Smith, majoring in history, and making lifelong friends, including Dorothea Richardson Wendell. She remembers two history professors—Miss [Leona] Gabel, who taught History of the Renaissance and Reformation, and Hans Kohn, a Jewish refugee born in Prague, who was her favorite teacher.

Although studying history didn’t affect her career, it did affect her perspective. “I just have the feeling that people in the United States don’t pay attention to history. A lot of our

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Graduation from Smith, 1947

“I wasn’t born yet when women got the Vote—but what’s happening today is equal to that.”

people in Washington either don’t know history or don’t learn from history.”

After graduation, Martha spent two years “bumming around” post-war Europe; she remembers that they were still rationing things in England and France. She wrote reports about what she saw and sent them back to be published in the Duluth News Tribune. She heard from someone at the newspaper that her reports were good—but to this day she’s never seen a copy of any.

Returning to Duluth, she took a job at u.s. Steel researching and writing property abstracts. Hired because she spoke three languages, she was given the common job title of secretary—even though when they led her to a typewriter she said she did not know how to type.

She soon married Royal Alworth, a fellow Duluthian, and turned her attention to raising a family. Three girls and three boys were born

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With her six children (Joan, Mollie, Susan, Royal III, Nick, and Peter), their spouses, and nine of her 10 grandchildren, 2001

within 10 years. She had time for tennis and also for skiing, which her husband particularly enjoyed. And they traveled extensively.

One memorable trip was with several other couples to the 1956 Olympics in Cortina d’Ampezzo, Italy. Martha’s husband, Royal, and Smith friend Kathleen Ridder’s husband, Rob, were both interested in the u.s. hockey team. (Kathleen Ridder’s interview is on page 30.)

There were lots of Minnesota boys on the team, including Wendell Anderson, the state’s future governor. John Mariucci, on leave from coaching the University of Minnesota team, was the Olympic team coach. While they were there, Sophia Loren “haunted the hockey team,” Martha remembers. It was the height of the Cold War, right before Sputnik, and “Boy, were we excited” when the Americans won the silver medal.

In addition to traveling, sports, and family, Martha devoted herself to supporting the local arts scene, doing what she could “to make the community vibrant for everyone.” Education

was equally important. She calls the G.I. Bill the “best piece of legislation that ever came down the pike.” And she worked to get the business community and the University of Minnesota Duluth to interact more.

She also made time for active volunteer work, especially enjoying the Junior League and the League of Women Voters. Through these groups she began to learn about politics and government and how things worked.

Although she never considered running for office, “I liked politics.”

Occasionally, the League took positions that conflicted with those of her husband, who was in commercial real estate. “The League was pushing a sign ordinance. We wanted useful signs but not distracting signs. One of our buildings had a bank in it and had a great big sign with the initials of the bank. Everyone had an idea what should happen to the sign.”

Martha took the League’s side, the League won the battle, and the sign came down. “The marriage hung together” too, Martha points out.

She became involved in statewide issues as a member of the first lay board of Duluth’s College of St. Scholastica. The private Catholic college trained students for a broad range of health-related careers. The State Legislature seemed determined to add a medical school to the University of Minnesota Duluth; Duluthians feared that training for other medical careers would soon follow, eliminating St. Scholastica’s niche. The lay board came up with a winning strategy: They welcomed the plan for the new medical school while lobbying the legislature that there was no need to add other training programs because they were already available right at St. Scholastica.

National and international politics also attracted her attention. She mentions the

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Vietnam War as a turning point in her life.

“I was so against the war, and my two older children were so against it” that they marched together in antiwar demonstrations. “It affected my politics: I always had been a Republican, and I decided I wasn’t anymore.”

But the most significant moment in history affecting Martha was not World War ii and not Vietnam. Speaking on the afternoon of the final day of the 2008 Democratic National Convention in Denver, she says, “We’re going through it right now. Today. Hillary Clinton ran, with Obama her opponent. I wasn’t born yet when women got the Vote—but what’s happening today is equal to that. A woman and a black man are running for the highest offices in the u.s.”

Her focus on the present and the future also applies to local issues. She says there’s a movement afoot to consolidate the three existing Duluth high schools into one new school. Martha thinks it’s a mistake to invest in bricks and mortar and says they should use the money to pay teachers more. “You never hear anybody saying, ‘Well, I don’t want my child to go to Harvard … it’s so old.’” There is a special vote on this issue coming up. Asked whether she’s made her views public, she says “Not yet—but I will.”

Martha is a strong advocate for single-sex colleges. She used to interview young women who had applied to Smith and remembers being impressed by their logical reasoning. “They felt that there was no reason to pair up, boy-girl.

The president of the class didn’t have to be a male. If they were among all sorts of women, then women would take charge and be in charge and were capable of taking charge. And they felt that would stand them in good stead.

If I had been trying to talk them into the fact

that there’s nothing wrong with a girls’ college, that’s exactly what I would have said.”

As Martha experienced it, going to a women’s college was “living the feminist movement.”

She says, “It wasn’t something that was introduced into my life, because it was just part of it. I certainly would want my own daughters to feel as confident as I do that women can accomplish what they set out to do.” One of her three daughters did attend a women’s college, and Martha took a granddaughter who lives in Minneapolis to visit Smith last spring.

Her advice for current Smith students and recent graduates: “Know what you’re talking about. Don’t trust everything you hear.” And “Avoid being taken in by language” that is designed to manipulate your opinions.

Getting ready to leave, I look at Martha’s extensive wall of photos. She points out various family members, including a granddaughter now studying in Tanzania and another granddaughter adopted as an infant from Guatemala. She mentions her own love of world travel and says she’s particularly interested in Tibet.

I notice a photo of Justice Pierce Butler autographed to Mary and Martha. “He was one of Franklin Roosevelt’s ‘nine old men,’” she comments, referring to a Supreme Court full of philosophical and economic conservatives who opposed New Deal programs. “Roosevelt wanted to get rid of them, to set age limits.

The more I think about setting age limits, the more I think he was right.”

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Grace with daughters Anne, Nancy, and Laura, 2008

“I Might Have Been a Bag Lady in New York!”

Grace Mariette norris ’47 Interviewed by Betsey Whitbeck ’71 and Laurie Maloff Kramer ’69 on January 16, 2008

Though she grew up in Minnesota as a member of the educated and civic-minded Gale and Jones families, Grace Mariette Norris started life in New York City under very different circumstances.

Grace’s birth mother was a farm girl from Pennsylvania who moved to New York to find work and became involved with the choir director of her church. She decided to place her daughter for adoption with an agency. At the same time, a Minneapolis physician, Dr. Ernest Sydney Mariette, and his wife, Anna Jones Mariette, wanted to adopt an infant outside of Minnesota because the prominent family preferred anonymity in the adoption process.

The Mariettes went to New York, and a match was made.

“Opportunities have just fallen in my lap!” said Grace. Her life would probably have been dramatically different had the Mariettes not made that trip. “I might have been a bag lady in New York!”

Luckily for all, Grace was a natural fit in her new family. She got along with people and was an accomplished student at the local elementary school and later at Northrop Collegiate. When it came time to apply for college, Smith was the obvious choice. Grace’s grandmother, Alice Gale, was the first woman from Minnesota to graduate from Smith. In what amounted to a Smith dynasty, every female in three

generations of the extended Gale-Jones family— Alice Gale and her sisters, their daughters, and their daughters’ daughters—went to Smith, and the men in the family married Smith women too. “You had to apply, and if you got in, you went,” Grace says.

Her younger brother, also adopted in New York, was not as lucky as Grace. He had learning disabilities in an era when these were not understood. People just thought he was “dumb,” Grace remembers, and didn’t know how to handle it. He had a difficult relationship with their parents, left college after a year, married at 18, and had five children. In later life Grace more than once expressed to him her sadness that he hadn’t been treated fairly.

Witnessing her brother’s difficulties may have sown the seeds for Grace’s life work: She wanted to help children, particularly those at risk. “I just feel early education is so important so kids have a good start. I think it’s crucial to get kids ready for college, but boy, if you don’t get them ready for kindergarten, especially now, they’re done for before they start—they’re lost in the shuffle.”

Grace attended Smith from 1943 to 1945 and then finished her undergraduate degree at the University of Minnesota. “I needed a statistics course and I couldn’t fit it into my program, so I came back here for summer school. I loved it!

I was ready to be in a coed school.”

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Silhouettes of Grace, brother Ed, and the family dog, c. 1930

Grace continued on at the University of Minnesota for a master’s degree in child development. She feels luck was with her again when she found her perfect niche as a kindergarten and primary school teacher and started her own nursery school.

As her career developed, Grace moved into advocacy work in the mid-1950s for the Greater Minneapolis Day Care Association. There she

learned the tools of social activism by being responsible for the organization’s advocacy with area city councils. She helped the organization pioneer the concept, widely accepted today, that getting children ready to start school is critical to their eventual success in life. She convinced city councils around the metro area to support early childhood education and was able to raise considerable funds from them for day care for

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children from low-income families. Grace discovered that advocacy was exciting: “I just loved getting money out of the community for a cause that I really believed in.”

During our interview, gazing through large windows into the extensive woods surrounding her North Woods–style home, Grace reflected on her family’s most significant value.

“Community service was huge. My father was a doctor running the Glen Lake Sanitarium, a county tuberculosis hospital. Mother, after graduating from Smith, went to the University of Minnesota to learn nursing and became nursing director for St. Barnabas Hospital in Minneapolis, where she met my father.” Grace’s uncle, Edward Gale, was a lawyer and head of the county commissioners who ran the Glen Lake hospital. So most family members of her parents’ generation actually worked in community service rather than just talking about it or contributing only financial support.

Grace’s own children carry on the family values: “Our youngest, Nancy Norris Weber, works with at-risk four-year-olds in north Minneapolis. Anne Norris, our oldest, is the city manager in Crystal. Laura Norris is a master’sdegreed social worker for the county.”

Sometimes, says Grace, they tell her, “We could be making a lot more money in the private sector than any of us do in the public sector.”

“You’re doing just fine,” Grace answers.

“If you can raise your own kids, you’re doing well in this day and age. My children say they raised themselves because ‘mother was out saving the world,’ but that’s not quite true. I was here, and they learned quite a few values.” She added, “I think all children and young people should realize they need to have a commitment to the community to make it better. I don’t

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Asked about accomplishments outside the realm of her immediate family, Grace became thoughtful and finally commented, “I still meet parents of kids I had in child care. They say, ‘You were the best teacher my kids ever had.’ That’s kind of nice to hear.”

think you need to sit around and be a couch potato, whether you’re 22, 42, or 82.”

Asked about accomplishments outside the realm of her immediate family, Grace became thoughtful and finally commented, “I still meet parents of kids I had in child care. They say, ‘You were the best teacher my kids ever had.’

That’s kind of nice to hear. I just loved working with kids. You could see that you really had turned that child’s behavior around when you consistently had that child in our nursery. Some of the kids had really horrible things going on at home—real chaos. At least we could give them some structure, some feeling that ‘this is what happens every day and people here really like me.’”

With her personal philosophy of community involvement, Grace’s greatest caution to recent college graduates is to avoid becoming too inwardly oriented. “Avoid getting too involved in your own lives. Be externally focused some of the time. You certainly want to give time to your family, but on the other hand, we’re all further ahead if you do something outside your family.”

When Grace and her husband, Tony Norris, were raising their daughters, she did stop working for compensation, partly because Tony

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Graduation from Northrop, 1943

“I don’t think you need to sit around and be a couch potato, whether you’re 22, 42, or 82.”

“Avoid getting too involved in your own lives. Be externally focused some of the time.”

traveled for business. Not surprisingly, she became an avid part-time volunteer. “I’ve been very involved in the League of Women Voters, and especially the Council of Metropolitan Area Leagues. The League gives people an insight into what’s happening in government.”

Grace eventually was elected to the school board in Wayzata. “That was an interesting

experience because we had an alcoholic superintendent who never came back after lunch. So I spent quite a bit of time trying to get rid of him, which did not make me popular!

I loved being on the school board even though I got crank calls at home. But it was an interesting public position.” She was asked once to run for the Minnesota State Legislature but did not pursue that route.

Grace has spent time volunteering with her church—Chapel Hills in Edina. There she became the first woman moderator of the church, in charge of the then all-male church council—“only because the men thought the church was going to fall apart, so even Grace couldn’t make things worse!” She also served on the search committee that selected the current minister.

Tony and Grace moved to their current home in the city of Woodland near Lake Minnetonka in 1981, and from 1988 to 2005 she served as treasurer of the city, an appointed position. And, like her mother before her, she “always” serves as an election judge. “We have 480 people in Woodland, and about 92% vote— very high. Of course, in my opinion, most of them vote wrong!”

Even though she left Smith after two years, Grace is active in the Minnesota Smith Club.

She has often chaired the bakery department at Smith Day, the club’s annual fall fund-raiser, and the “Norris table” is well known for winning raffle prizes at lunch and acquiring numerous treasures in the silent auction.

Grace’s daughters and other relatives always come, as does her stepdaughter, Galen, from San Antonio. “Galen flies in for the event with an empty suitcase and, even after airfare, figures she comes out way ahead.” The group

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of women even have a Smith Day family tradition: dinner at Grace’s home later on with a fashion show of their finds.

Community involvement and education aside, Grace thinks the best moments of her life are spent with her family, especially when they gather Sunday afternoons. “The girls and the children—not the husbands! We just sit around and talk. Sometimes we work in the garden or go down to the market and buy plants for the garden. We have an awfully good time together.

I’m so lucky to have three such neat kids.”

As we finish our interview, we have a sudden and enthusiastic visit from the Norris pets, Alley the cat and Yogi the dog, adopted to play with the grandchildren when they come over.

And leaving the house, we notice a child’s swing hanging from the branch of a tree in the front yard. It’s easy to believe Grace Norris is lucky, but she is also proactive. She and her husband have created a close family and she has made a good life for herself, filled with opportunities taken.

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Community involvement and education aside, Grace thinks the best moments of her life are spent with her family, especially when they gather Sunday afternoons.

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Jane and family, also known as Noland Four Creative Services, Inc., 2008

From Beatles to Bearables Jane Thomas noland ’49 Interviewed by Holly Duff Dowds ’71 on July 26, 2008

Sitting on Jane Thomas Noland’s front porch on Lake Minnetonka, watching the ducklings waddle towards the water, there is a deceptive sense of calm. She grew up on this property and comments, “We’re looking at the same view I’ve looked at off and on for 80 years!” But once she starts talking, you know that hers has been no leisurely life of lawn chairs. She sums up her life as “nonstop work,” mostly writing and editing— combined with parenting, also nonstop. From her beginnings as a newspaper reporter, she now has at least one book with a million, plus or minus, copies in print and four adult gift books translated for more than 10 overseas markets.

Jane’s family first came to Minneapolis from Indiana in the 1920s, when her father used his food chemistry knowledge in ways that affect us all. First at Washburn-Crosby company, which became General Mills, “He kept weevils out of flour” by establishing one of the first corporate quality-control departments in the United States. His department supervised the test kitchens, featuring the mythical Betty Crocker.

He also worked to vitamin-enrich white flour as an industry advisor to the fda during World War ii . “Immigrants didn’t want dark flour—it reminded them of poverty,” Jane remembers him saying.

Both mother and father set expectations for Jane, their only child, incredibly high. “Mother, in particular, was obsessed with education. I had

to be a fantastic student. I had to be a good athlete because my father (a four-sport undergraduate letterman, an Indiana state tennis champion, and former athletic director of Butler University) never had a son. The expectations caused me plenty of anxiety.”

In the ’30s, frugality was a strong family value—even a necessity. “We lived in Kenwood, and trucked out to Lake Minnetonka in the summers. I remember ‘hoboes’ coming to our back steps in Kenwood from the railroad yards to get food handouts. We had household help, because everybody needed a place to live in those Depression years.”

On the day Jane was born, her father’s sister died, and the four orphaned nieces moved in with Jane’s family. Overnight, the number of children in the house went from zero to five.

(One of the nieces, Natalie Osterhout, was a member of the Smith class of ’35.) And Jane’s mother’s sister lived nearby. “So I grew up in a family of women—Dad’s ‘harem.’ It was the era of the Lindbergh kidnapping, so my mother protected me like no other child before or since.

I couldn’t sit on the front steps alone. She was that way until I got married, and afterward too.”

Jane’s mother stressed healthy living before it was in vogue. Both parents were teetotalers, to the point of bribing Jane with a diamond to not drink (the same diamond her mother’s father had given her for the same reason).

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One of Jane and daughter Mimi’s “bear books,” based on Lake Superior bears and now reprinted in seven foreign countries

“We were the first class back in Capen after the war—the waves moved out and we came in.”

Jane’s mother knew how vulnerable families could be—seven of her nine Irish uncles were alcoholics. At parties where drinking was the post flapper-age norm, she would quietly pour her drinks into plants. “I’ve killed more potted palms than you can imagine!” Jane remembers her mother saying. Lesson learned. Jane doesn’t drink and never has.

Jane, who says, “I always knew I’d go to Smith,” cites her youthful visits to the annual Smith Day in the Country as a reason. Another was the Smith College English Award given at Northrop Collegiate School, where she attended (“I think I won that, but I’m not sure”).

She made a tour of colleges and thought “Northampton was the most beautiful place in the world. So it was understood that I would get in and I would go—that was that.” Besides, three other classmates from the Northrop class of ’45 went to Smith: Jean Guthrie (Bodine), Jane’s friend since birth; Mary Wurtele (Vaughan); and Jean Dunn (Robb), who lived in Capen House for four years with Jane. All four stayed to graduate in 1949. (Mary Vaughan’s interview is on page 70.)

Jane’s years at Smith were filled with exciting teachers, especially in the English department.

“R .G. Davis was a writing teacher at the time.

Bob Bailey, who taught a course in novel writing, had us over to his house. We were a small, cozy class, and he’d invite people like Bernard De Voto [a Pulitzer Prize–winning, controversial author] to come and talk to us.”

And there was Mary Ellen Chase. “She was a joy, you know. She was like an old-fashioned minister—she’d wave her hands around and get red in the face and spout Bible verses as literature, and you’d never forget them.” Next to her English literature major, Jane’s interest was music, which was her minor. Writing Rally Day songs started her on a lifetime of compulsive songwriting, shared by her musical family.

At Smith, Jane formed several lasting friendships, including with her roommate, Bea Weeks Bast of Philadelphia. Jane, Bea, and a nest of ’49ers have reconnected in Delray Beach the past few years. Like many, Jane credits Smith’s house system. “We had the whole second-floor front wing of Capen House our senior year.” There was individual house dining at that time, and few transferred out. It made for a cohesive group. “We were the first class back in Capen after the war—the waves moved out, and we came in.”

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A “guilt moment” came after graduation.

“I was hired to be an English teacher at Dobbs Ferry, and, on seeing their catalog photos of yet more girls in gym clothes with their hockey sticks, I decided that 11 years in girls’ schools was enough.” She moved back to Minneapolis, and, after reviewing books for the Minneapolis Tribune, was hired as a city-side reporter, working nights. Jane was transferred to the Women’s Pages (no longer called the “Society” section), where, she said, “We put the whole section together in those days. We’d write the articles, compose and fit the headlines, supervise the typesetters who set the lead type in forms, and finally proof the pages. A total operation.

We worked like dogs for $35 a week, but it was fun.” Longtime columnist Barbara Flanagan and Susan Kuehn were reporting colleagues, and the three traveled to Europe together on the Queen Elizabeth.

“I was married late—to Richard F. Noland.

I was almost 30, Dick 34. In those days of ‘graduate one day, get married the next,’ we like to say we were the only ones left!” He was a writer too, in advertising, first as an agency copywriter and copy chief and then in his own business in the Ivy Tower.”

With parenthood came the challenge of her life. While there is no alcohol in the Noland house except on a few special occasions, both of Jane’s children, Rick and Mimi, became chemically dependent. (They have now been sober for 22 years and 33 years, respectively.)

With her typical soft humor, Jane murmurs appreciation for the fact that the children at least “took turns.” “It was a very hard time to bring up children, the late ’60s and early ’70s.”

Working with Irene Hixon Whitney ’48, another Minnesota Smith alum who was an early proponent of alcoholism treatment, Jane helped

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With lifelong friend Jean Guthrie (Bodine), c. 1930—Jane (right) and Jean were born two days apart and went to nursery school, Kenwood, Northrop, and Smith together

start youth halfway houses—Shanti House and Way 12 Halfway House.

At age 15, Mimi wrote a book, I Never Saw the Sun Rise, about recovering from chemical dependency. That’s when Jane went into the book business. A new self-help publisher in Minneapolis, CompCare Publications, was printing Mimi’s book and “they needed someone to write the bottom half of A Day at a Time, a Twelve Step daily reader for people in recovery.” The book is now published by Hazelden, which took over many of CompCare’s books when the latter’s parent company in California folded the Minnesota

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In front of Capen House at Smith, 1949

operation in the mid-1990s. “I was at CompCare for nearly 20 years as their senior editor. I could write a book like Laugh It Off (about losing weight) and carry the whole project through—edit it, choose an illustrator and cover designer, proof it, take it through the production process. What a luxury for a control-freak author!”

Along the way, Jane tried traditional volunteer service—as Art Institute docent, airplane spotter (a wartime leftover), Children’s Hospital poison-proof promoter, and a founding board member of Highcroft School, Shanti House, and the Wayzata Chemical Health Commission. But she concluded that you contribute more if you do what you do best— in her case, writing. Looking at the global distribution of her books, no one could argue.

Jane’s “Bearables” books (Bearables: Parables of

Bear Wisdom for Everyday Living, Bear Up, Bear Ways to Cope with Life’s Bumps and Surprises, and Bear With It), are all based on real behaviors of Lake Superior bears. Illustrated by Mimi’s Thurber-like bear drawings, the Bearables books are still coming out overseas. Counting the Rings, Jane’s comprehensive history of Encampment Forest Association for that lakeside community near Two Harbors, was published in 2001. And her What’s So Funny about Getting Old? with Ed Fischer keeps selling for Meadowbrook Press.

“I’m still editing memoirs for people and still writing poetry. I just won $20 for a children’s poem and got this nice note saying: ‘Good luck with your future writing career.’ That was kind of a kick. I’m not going to tell them I’m 80!”

Reflecting on high points of her life, she lists marriage (“a really good one”), the birth of her children, achievements like Phi Beta Kappa and seeing her work in print, and giving help to those recovering from chemical dependency.

As she reviews her career of nonstop work, she wonders if the Puritan work ethic is as necessary to civilization’s progress as it seemed to her earlier, or as proclaimed by her parents and teachers. “People can contribute in so many different ways. High expectations can be either life-enhancing or destructive. In my case, I think they were enhancing. I did what was expected, rose to the challenges. In the case of my children, the only grandchildren of four hovering grandparents, I think expectations were destructive, or at least discouraging.”

Even with those endless expectations in her childhood and her nagging work ethic, Jane’s friends can attest to the fact that she’s a barrel of fun, basically a humorist. The main turning point in her life? “The Beatles—no question! We took the children, aged 5 and 7, to the Beatles’ concert at the Chicago Stockyards.

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In front of Capen House, 1999, wearing her 50th reunion shirt with the motto “XLIX est L … A CLASSIC IS BORN”

We drove there with a sign in the back window that said ‘Beatles or Bust.’ Dick and I were the original grown-up groupies. We went to every rock concert, heard them all—Cream, the Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, Joe Cocker, the Who, everybody! Of course, both kids wanted to be rock stars—still do!” The Nolands are a musical family, and they have their own recording label, Blue Zoo Music, a division of Noland Four Creative Services (advertising, writing-editing, illustration, music). Their house is “maxed out” says Jane, with the clutter of cottage industries, including Rick’s antique business.

As a Smith alum, “I’ve been a house rep for reunions, written reunion songs, been to all my reunions but the 5th and 55th. For years, I frustrated the Minnesota Smith Club with wicked Smith Day quizzes. Now I try to keep

“I just won $20 for a children’s poem, and got this nice note saying: ‘Good luck with your future writing career.’ That was kind of a kick. I’m not going to tell them I’m 80!”

track of classmates—I’ve been class co-secretary for the past five years and have co-written the class column for the Smith Alumnae Quarterly.”

What advice does Jane have for all of us?

“Of course, there is the ever-increasing importance of education and an informed electorate,” she says. “And kindness and honesty, as I’ve told the kids, are the two most important things we can learn to make the world a little better.”

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Mary and husband Dick visiting a Northwest Bancorporation bank in Aberdeen, South Dakota, in the late 1960s—Dick was president of the corporation

Reinventing Oneself at Midlife Mary Wurtele vaughan ’49 Interviewed by Ann Engebretson Carr ’70 and Barbara Bockhaus Klaas ’74 on March 13, 2008

Approaching the door of Mary Wurtele Vaughan’s Kenwood home, you are struck by its unusual architecture. It’s a modern, gray stone one-story residence that looks like an art gallery—a stark contrast to the two- and threestory brick and stucco homes that typify the area. Casually but impeccably dressed, Mary greets us and escorts us to her elegant, comfortable living room. With the late winter sun streaming in through the ceiling’s domed skylight and a view of the garden with its stone fountain sculpture, we settle back to learn about Mary, her family, and her history.

Like two other women profiled in this book, Mary is part of a large Minnesota family descended from Samuel and Susan Gale, who started the Smith tradition in Minnesota by sending all three of their daughters to Smith in the early years of the college. (Grace Mariette Norris’s profile begins on page 58, and Molly Duff Woehrlin’s on page 76.)

Samuel Gale, Mary’s maternal greatgrandfather, along with his brother Harlow, moved from Massachusetts to the Twin Cities in the 1850s. They were heeding the call to “go west young man,” Mary says. Samuel invested in real estate and raised his family in Minnesota.

He didn’t forget his roots, though. A graduate of Yale, he recognized the importance of education and the quality of colleges in the East.

He sent his three daughters to Smith, which had been founded in 1871 and opened in 1875.

Mary’s great-aunt Alice and her grandmother Anna were the first young women born and raised in Minnesota to attend Smith.

They were followed by her great-aunt Marion a few years later. Alice and Anna lived in Dewey House, and they roomed together for the two years they were both at Smith. Alice graduated in 1887, with Anna following in 1889. Going to Smith from Minnesota was not easy—it was a journey of three days and three nights by train, and visits home were infrequent.

Following in her own mother’s footsteps, Mary’s mother, Charlotte Lindley, also attended Smith, graduating in 1921. William Allan Nielson was the college president then. Her mother often told Mary that Smith was one of the most wonderful experiences of her life, with abundant weekend activities and opportunities for fun on campus.

Growing up in the Wurtele family, Mary was taught the importance of giving back to one’s community through service. While serving on boards was not as popular a form of service in days past as it is today, Mary’s parents did contribute their efforts to important community projects. Her mother served on the Visiting Nurses Board, and her father raised money for organizations including the Community Chest, which later became the United Way.

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Mary and Dick on their Lake Minnetonka property with children Peter, Angus, Charlotte, and Carol, c. 1961

Mary’s mother was a pianist, so music played a major role in her family life as well. Every year, when New York’s Metropolitan Opera came to Minnesota, her mother took the children to performances.

When it came to education, Smith College was literally in Mary’s blood. “I grew up not knowing of any other college for women in the U.S. ,” explains Mary. Three of the four girls in Mary’s family went to Smith, and the connection between Smith and her family was very close. When Mary graduated in 1949, her grandmother was on campus celebrating her 60th reunion. The 10 surviving members of the class of 1889 stayed in the infirmary, as was traditional for older alumnae at that time.

The two women made a plan to meet. Her grandmother commented, “I gave a silent prayer, hoping you would not show up in blue

jeans.” “But I did,” said Mary, “Smithies being Smithies!”

Mary enrolled at Smith in 1945, just after the end of World War ii . While she started out as a science major, organic chemistry took its toll.

She switched her major to government, taking classes in comparative government as well as other areas. She believes many of the lessons learned in these classes served her well in later community service and government affairs endeavors.

Mary thinks her experience at Smith was quite different from her mother’s. The country was going through a period of transition from wartime to peacetime that involved reintroducing men into society and careers and returning women to their homes after years of wartime jobs. During this time of general upheaval, the college experienced

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leadership transitions too. Smith had multiple college presidents, and Mary recalls the unusual event of Elizabeth Cutter Morrow, head of Smith’s Board of Trustees, stepping in to serve as interim president.

Men’s colleges were also feeling the impact of social upheaval. Back from war and often dealing with depression, many men drank heavily. Social life took place away from Smith, with students taking buses to Harvard, Yale, and Dartmouth on the weekends. Mary remembers feeling cooped up with 10 o’clock campus curfews during the week and midnight on weekends.

One memory is particularly strong for Mary, because it captured the restrictive expectations for women at that time. It was a remark made in class by Hans Kohn, a well-regarded academic from Prague who taught Intellectual History of Europe and stayed at Smith for much of his career. He said the reason he remained at a women’s college was that, in Mary’s words, “He believed that it is women who pass on intellectual curiosity to the next generation because men don’t have time.”

After all, men were the ones out in the world earning a living. Professor Kohn did not imagine that a woman might actually pursue a career as well.

Like most women after the war, Mary did what was expected of her. Her marriage to Dick Vaughan of Minneapolis in 1950 was the most exciting event of her life, she says. They lived in Hanover, New Hampshire, while Dick, a Dartmouth graduate, attended Tuck School of Business. Long-range plans fell into place immediately after graduation when Dick took a position in Minneapolis with Northwestern National Bank, eventually becoming the ceo of Northwest Bancorporation (Banco).

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When Mary graduated in 1949, her grandmother was on campus celebrating her 60th reunion, and they made a plan to connect. Her grandmother commented, “I gave a silent prayer, hoping you would not show up in blue jeans.” “But I did,” said Mary, “Smithies being Smithies!”

Dick and Mary had four children, Charlotte, Carol, Peter, and Angus, and lived on family property on Lake Minnetonka near Wayzata.

Life was full and happy.

No one could have predicted the tragedy that changed her life. In 1979, stepping on a live power line that had fallen in their yard during a summer storm, Dick Vaughan was electrocuted.

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Mary lives in a cutting-edge home designed and built for Bernice Barber Dalrymple, Smith ’10. The unusual home has only had two owners—both Smith women.

Mary was just 50 years old. The tragedy was, Mary says, “the turning point in my life.”

Coping with Dick’s death was very hard.

Mary was not sure how to go about dealing with her grief and her changed life. Being financially secure helped somewhat and Mary adapted, but it wasn’t easy and it took time.

While she had managed the family finances, suddenly she had to deal with myriad decisions.

She realized that she’d been dependent on Dick to make decisions or offer a welcome second opinion. Mary said, “For the first time, I was independent,” having to manage life alone while overcoming grief and trauma.

Traveling helped. Accompanied by her older sister Ann, she took various trips with New York’s Museum of Natural History and the Smith Alumnae Association. Reflecting on these trips, Mary believes they were “in a sense, running away.” But they also contributed to her growing independence. Joined by Smith classmate Bissy Holt Jansen, she went to the Far East and trekked in Kashmir, climbing to 16,000 feet. “This was a real physical challenge and an accomplishment that I am very proud of.”

After Dick’s death, Mary decided to move from Wayzata on Lake Minnetonka into the city to begin the next phase of her life.

“Wayzata is a couples’ town,” Mary explained.

She found the perfect house on Mount Curve

Avenue in the Kenwood neighborhood of Minneapolis, and purchased it from the estate of Bernice Barber Dalrymple (smith ’10).

The modern house had been designed for Mrs. Dalrymple by architect Robert L. Bliss.

It was built in 1961, when she was already in her 70s, and she lived there for 20 years. Mary believes Mrs. Dalrymple was quite courageous building this cutting-edge home at her age.

One wonderful feature is an open interior design that provides an exquisite showcase for Mary’s extensive collection of contemporary art.

Mary notes that the home has only had two owners—both Smith alums.

She also decided to serve the community by joining boards that reflected her interests and values. She was on the board of Macalester College in Saint Paul for 12 years after son Angus attended.

She joined the board of the Minnesota Opera 10 years ago and remains an active member. Thanks in part to a successful $20 million development campaign, the company has grown significantly in size, importance, and international stature during Mary’s tenure.

She notes with pride that the upcoming season features the American premiere of The Adventures of Pinocchio, a new opera co-produced by the Minnesota Opera and an English company, Opera North.

The Guthrie Theater has benefited longest from the devotion of the Vaughan family. Dick served on the board beginning in the early ’70s; Mary joined in the mid-80s and continues on this board today. She has worked on various committees, primarily those focused on development. Mary has seen the Guthrie expand in terms of both space and vision.

An enjoyable side benefit of her work with

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the Guthrie has been travel, including several autumn trips to Ireland at the time of the Dublin Theatre Festival. Led by world-renowned Guthrie artistic director Joe Dowling, the Guthrie trips have included productions at the Abbey Theatre and other Dublin venues.

Mary believes that the Twin Cities are as vibrant as they are because of the strong individual and institutional commitment to give back to the community. “Corporations have been so supportive. The Dayton family led the way.” According to Mary, the Guthrie Theater exists because of the vision of major local business leaders such as John Cowles, Jr., Louie Zelle, and Philip Von Blon (see interview with Joanne Von Blon ’45 on page 40).

An active participant in the Minnesota Smith Club, Mary twice chaired the annual fund-raiser, Smith Day in the Country. The Smith class of ’49 has also benefited from her development skills. Heading up Special Gifts for her 50th reunion in 1999, Mary worked for almost five years on the project. Her efforts were rewarded when the class set a record at that time for the amount donated by a 50th reunion class.

Reflecting on the times she has lived through, Mary feels that the upheaval of the ’60s and early ’70s made this period the most historically significant of her lifetime. Affecting the very foundation of the country, the changes of that time had an impact on family structures, education, and life and career choices for women.

Given the unexpected changes that life brings, Mary encourages Smith women and other young people of today to learn to change with the times and find their own niche—by following their dreams, finding a mentor,

Mary, age 3 (left), with sister Ann ’48, age 5, at their Mount Curve home

and giving back to the community. She also urges young women “not to rush through life— enjoy it!”

In many ways, Mary’s life has come full circle. She lives at the opposite end of the street where she was raised. She has 12 grandchildren, and three of her children and their families live nearby. She continues to value being part of a community, demonstrating that commitment through her support of the arts and education.

And she lives in a home that has only known the imprint of Smith women. This home suits Mary, as she suits it.

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Molly with mother Helen Jones Duff (Smith ’18), 1935

“Life Happens—Learn from It” Molly Duff woehrlin ’53 Interviewed by Cathy Muldoon ’88 and Kate Lehmann ’78 on March 22, 2008

If the goal of Smith College is to educate young women to play lifelong leadership roles in their communities, Molly Duff Woehrlin could be the school’s poster child.

A three-term Rice County Commissioner, the first woman president of Arc of Minnesota, a long-time advocate at the Minnesota State Legislature for the rights of individuals with mental disabilities, a prominent voice for sustainable development and environmental protection, a proponent of women in elected office, and a tireless worker for other causes, Molly has brought her talents to bear on a wide range of important issues of our time.

On a snowy March day, we talked with Molly on the four-season porch at the back of her spacious Victorian home in Northfield, Minnesota. She displayed family photos as she talked. Behind her, moist spring snow fell and occasionally plopped to the ground from bending tree branches. A fire completed the comfortable scene.

Her interest in and talent for leadership were honed both at home and at Smith, Molly explained. She grew up in a well-educated and civic-minded family with strong ties to Smith that went all the way back to the earliest years of the college.

Her great-grandfather Samuel Gale grew up in Massachusetts in a family of 10 children.

After his father died, he and several siblings

were sent to live with relatives because the farm could not feed so many mouths. Living with an uncle who was a tanner, Samuel showed no interest in that vocation. Eventually, he got some schooling and then worked his way through Yale. He graduated as valedictorian of his class, spent a year at Harvard Law School, and in 1857 moved to Minnesota, one year before it became a state.

Samuel went into real estate, becoming one of Minneapolis’ early land developers, buying a large tract called Maplewoods on Wayzata Bay and selling off pieces to friends and family.

He traveled back to the East Coast fairly frequently to meet with family and investors.

He met and married Susan Damon of Holden, Massachusetts, a town near Springfield.

The Gales sent four children back East to college. Edward, the oldest, went to Yale, his father’s alma mater. All three girls—Molly’s grandmother Alice, as well as Anna and Marion—went to Smith.

Alice was a member of the seventh class at the college, enrolling in 1883 and graduating in 1887. Anna, a member of the ninth class, followed Alice to Smith in 1885, rooming with her sister in Dewey House for two years. Anna graduated in 1889, and Marion, the youngest sister, enrolled in 1890 and graduated in 1894.

Alice and Anna were the first women born and raised in Minnesota to graduate from Smith.

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Graduation from Northrop, 1949

Alice Gale Jones later became Vice President of the Smith Alumnae Association, as did Molly herself.

Education, including the education of women, was an important topic in Molly’s family, and so was politics. As Molly grew up, vigorous political discussions often took place around the dinner table. Great-grandfather Samuel Gale had campaigned for Lincoln on horseback. Molly’s maternal grandfather, David Percy Jones, was mayor of Minneapolis. Both maternal greatgrandfathers served on early local government councils and were involved in establishing major cultural institutions in Minneapolis. Molly’s mother, Helen Jones Duff (smith ’18), served as president of the Minnesota League of Women Voters. Her oldest brother, Phil, served in the State Legislature.

The spirit of advocacy came early, too, mainly from watching her mother and her mother’s friends. Strong, active women, they participated in political and other matters at a time when it was considered proper to be home waiting for your husband with dinner on the table.

Molly believes that the interactions and role models she was exposed to as a young person

helped her develop a tolerance for conflict and for heated intellectual discussions that has benefited her in many ways—particularly in holding elective office in later years.

The interests and talents she brought from home, she polished at Smith.

Since all of the women in three previous generations of her family had attended Smith, it was assumed that Molly also would go.

She recognizes that she was probably a little defensive about this assumption but saw no reason not to comply.

At Northrop Collegiate School in Minneapolis, Molly did well in a “small pond” and earned good grades, but she found it much more competitive at Smith, where she was surrounded by very able students. Undaunted, she petitioned to take honors classes and worked hard to achieve Bs. She understood that grades weren’t the only important thing at Smith, however. She was active in extracurricular activities, taking advantage of leadership opportunities and building herself as a leader as well as a scholar. She had fun, too, attending the many wonderful events Smith hosted.

Molly enjoyed the rich environment of questioning and exploring that Smith fostered.

A government major, she particularly remembers Leo Weinstein’s constitutional law class as a highlight of her college experience. “He was a passionate teacher,” she noted. Reminiscing about Smith’s role in her work, particularly her County Commissioner work, Molly said, “Here again was the Smith training. We learned how to ask questions. I just was so conscious of having gone to Smith, of having gone to a good college. We dealt with new material all the time—things I had never heard or conceived of.

You had to use your research skills, you had to figure out what kind of questions to ask, who to

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ask questions of, and it was really very exhilarating.”

After graduation, Molly married Bill Woehrlin, an Amherst graduate, and they had four children. But Molly did not want to be a stay-at-home mom; community involvement and politics beckoned. “When Betty Friedan’s book [The Feminine Mystique] came out, I had a tear-stained copy. She just told my story, absolutely—having to cope with children at home and struggling to get outside the home.

She gave me justification.”

In 1962, Bill joined the history department at Carleton College and the family moved to Northfield. The small but intellectual Minnesota town was an ideal place in the 1960s for Molly.

Following in her family’s tradition of civic engagement and social change, she was also influenced by the second wave of the feminist movement. “Gloria Steinem came along and I poured over every issue of Ms. Magazine and anything she ever wrote.”

Reviewing a lifetime of involvement, Molly describes her “causes” in terms of decades, noting a number of shifts that reflected changing social issues.

In the 1960s, Molly participated in starting the Northfield Human Relations Council in response to the civil rights movement. She also was involved in A Better Chance, which brought minority students to Northfield High School, becoming president of that organization in 1967.

On a more personal level, as the parent of a child with mental disabilities, she worked to create Project Friendship, which pairs college student volunteers with special needs children in Northfield.

The 1970s saw Molly continuing her advocacy on disability issues. She became active in the Minnesota Association for Retarded

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Alice, Marion, and Anna Gale attended Smith in its earliest years— Gale family granddaughters and great-granddaughters are active in the Minnesota Smith Club today

“When The Feminine Mystique came out, I had a tear-stained copy. She just told my story, absolutely — having to cope with children at home and struggling to get outside the home. She gave me justification.”

Citizens (now Arc of Minnesota) and was its government affairs chair as well as its first woman president. She lobbied at the Minnesota State Legislature from 1964 to 1978 and worked with the Minnesota Committee for the Handicapped, pacer Center, and Mental Health Coalition of Rice County. On the state level, she served on many advisory committees, working with such organizations as the Governor’s Council on Health, Welfare and Rehabilitation and the Department of Education.

In the 1980s, Molly focused her activity on county government. Elected in November 1982 as a Rice County commissioner and re-elected

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Molly’s first Smith Day in the Country, 1935—photo printed in a Minneapolis newspaper with the caption “She Says Rowing Is Good Exercise”

twice, she served from 1983 to 1992 and worked on health and human services policy legislation for the Association of Minnesota Counties. She also became involved in several organizations advocating participation by women at higher decision-making levels in appointive and elective office, and she worked hard to promote women running for office.

Molly turned her attention to environmental advocacy in the 1990s, achieving leadership positions in the Nature Conservancy’s

Minnesota chapter, Cannon River Watershed Partnership, and Minnesota Sustainable Development Initiative.

In the new millennium, philanthropy and elder care occupy much of Molly’s time. She is a board member of the Northfield Area Foundation, a founding member of the Wings Foundation, and a member of church support teams that assist elders who do not have family members to help. She continues to volunteer with the League of Women Voters of

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Northfield and the First United Church of Christ.

One thing Molly believes about volunteerism is that you must not get so involved in policy that you forget the human dimension. She has always been energized by direct connection with the people she is trying to help.

Asked about significant influences in her life, Molly points to the civil rights movement and its impact on her activism, and to her children’s impact on her philosophy of life. Although she hardly describes her four children in these terms, she told us that one has mental disabilities, one is lesbian, one struggles with depression, and one has been chemically dependent. Molly recognizes, especially as a parent, that she doesn’t always have control and that life isn’t perfect. Someone else’s ideas of success or accepted norms aren’t necessarily her own.

Her children have given her a unique perspective on success.

As we wrapped up our conversation, Molly reflected on her journey thus far, and the important part played by the liberal arts education she received at Smith.

She encourages current and prospective Smith students to be open to all that the college has to offer. Interestingly, she couldn’t think of a single warning for young people about what to avoid in their evolving lives. “Life happens— learn from it and adjust your direction as needed,” she said, a maxim reflecting Molly’s life.

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Running for Rice County Commissioner, November 1982

One thing Molly believes about volunteerism is that you must not get so involved in policy that you forget the human dimension.

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Marilyn (left) being honored by Queen Silvia and King Carl XVI Gustaf of Sweden

One of the True “Sheroes” Marilyn Carlson nelson ’61 Interviewed by Jane Anderson Howard ’75 and Betsey Whitbeck ’71 on June 17, 2008

“My sister and I were mortified when we were little” at having to model an item from their grandfather’s children’s clothing line.

“It was something called a ‘tweener,’ which was a lightweight, one-piece suit that children were supposed to wear between winter and summer.

It had a belt and a drop seat, so you didn’t have to take it off to use the facilities. My sister and I modeled it, and we had to drop the seat!”

So began our interview with Marilyn Carlson Nelson, Chair and ceo of Carlson, one of the largest privately held companies in the United States, employing nearly 160,000 people in more than 150 countries and territories. Marilyn is regularly recognized by Forbes magazine as one of the world’s 100 most powerful women and was named by U.S. News & World Report as one of America’s best leaders in 2006.Yet, talking with us in her penthouse offices, Marilyn is still the down-to-earth woman the Smith College Club of Minnesota has known since she chaired the club’s Alumnae Admissions Committee in the late 1960s. Over lunch, Marilyn shared stories of her family and upbringing, giving us insight into the process and events that made her an international leader.

“My maternal grandparents actually came to this country at the time of the American Revolution. Through the years they migrated west. My mom was born in Aberdeen, South Dakota. Her father was in the clothing

manufacturing business. He manufactured farm overalls, then came to Minneapolis and started a children’s clothing company and had two clothing stores, one in Edina and one in downtown Minneapolis on Nicollet Avenue.”

The embarrassment the Carlson girls felt at having to model the tweeners was forgiven “because he had clothing designers who made beautiful things for Barby [Marilyn’s sister] and me and we’ve both had a passion for clothes ever since.”

Marilyn’s paternal grandfather, Charles, left Sweden with his father, Carl Adolf, when he was four. “Of course my grandfather was a ‘Carl’s son,’ as was his father. They came to Minnesota and farmsteaded. Later Charles had a grocery store at 44th and France and my grandmother had the bakery next door.”

Her paternal grandparents cared a great deal about education. They had five children and planned to educate the boys. “My Aunt Aileen, the only daughter, went to Macalester College and graduated at the top of her class, but she had to pay her own way because the expectation was that a family without great means would help the boys rather than the girls. Aileen was always a kind of role model,” said Marilyn, because she was “very lively and interested in education.”

Marilyn’s father, Curt Carlson, attended the University of Minnesota, where he met her

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mother, Arleen Martin. Curt was already a budding entrepreneur. “My dad had a paper route from the time he was very young. It’s part of the family lore that he subcontracted to his younger brothers and neighbors. He had a huge region of paper routes and he kept them throughout his years at the University. That was a very formative time for him.”

Also a hard worker, Arleen helped her father as a bookkeeper at the clothing factory. “Like a lot of women of that era I think she had more talent and skill than opportunities, the way the culture was at that point.”

Marilyn’s Swedish grandparents “had lots of energy and ambition and an inability to get hold of capital. I think that characterized my parents to some extent as well. They had a lot of courage and a lot of vision. When my father left his role at Proctor & Gamble, where he had been the top salesperson for the region, it was 1938, World War ii was not far away, and people were beginning to get drafted. He had the courage to leave a well-paid job to found a company by borrowing money from his landlord. He’d go out and sell Gold Bond Stamps to clients. My mom had this little drum

majorette costume—my grandfather probably made it for her. She was a pretty, smiley blond with blue eyes, and she would pass out the stamp books—that was their marketing plan!

Even though my father got most of the attention, I would say my role models were a combination of them both—his energy and salesmanship, her faith, steadiness, and relationship building.”

Reflecting on values she learned growing up, Marilyn said, “I think caring and inclusiveness came from Hennepin Avenue Methodist Church. We attended the large downtown church because my father wanted us to think God was ‘big.’ But I thought it was great because it was a whole second social set. We’ve continued attending because we feel it’s good to pull children out of one setting where they may have one particular group of friends and put them in another. It’s an opportunity to develop different skills and another set of friends—an alternative.”

In 1957, during Marilyn’s high school years, her church was the first one in the country to become integrated, Marilyn explained. “Doing volunteer work in north Minneapolis, members became very close to families at Border Methodist, an African-American church.

What is now International Market Square was being built, and the highway was going through Border, which was going to be razed. Our congregation brought them in with ours. It was extremely formative for me. I had been very involved with the church youth group, the University of Life, and was quite literal about the Bible—loving everybody.”

In Marilyn’s extended family, inclusiveness was the goal for holidays. “It was a very loving family. At Christmas we had 50 people, and my Grandma Carlson was always organizing

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reunions with huge numbers—50, 60, 70 people,” she remembers.

Marilyn learned early to be an effective communicator and to handle herself deftly in front of an audience. “From the time I was quite young I took dance and drama lessons, and I learned a lot about teamwork. A small group of us were chosen for an acting troupe. We also did puppet shows for grade schools.” Marilyn found another positive effect of her theatrical experience: “It taught me, at a young age, that in theater you start to empathize because you put yourself into someone else’s shoes. It’s almost like in business—you do role-playing in order to learn how to model a certain activity.”

Early on, Marilyn developed a commitment to community activities. “I was a Brownie and a Girl Scout. To get my literature badge I read Shakespeare out loud with my best friend in a closet with a candle—and unfortunately got punished! I love Shakespeare to this day. I performed Romeo and Juliet at Amherst in my freshman year at Smith. I had to get special permission because we were supposed to focus on studies our freshman year. ” The work ethic was another strong value in the Carlson home. “Work before you play” was a powerful message, according to Marilyn, who adds, “I don’t think we played very much.” But she doesn’t think the work ethic was the only driver in the family. “My grandfather started his own company and was an entrepreneur. My father was an entrepreneur. So it was more than work—it was the fun and the joy of business and being creative and engaged and involved.”

Marilyn’s recounting of why she selected Smith shows her emerging independence.

“When I was quite young, my father brought home two T -shirts from a business trip, one that said Wellesley and one that said Vassar. He

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explained to my sister and me that if we worked really hard and got really good grades and were really smart, then these were the best women’s schools we could go to. I set as my goal to attend one of those schools.” But when Marilyn later went on a college tour, she changed her tune.

“Mother fell in love with Wellesley. She thought it looked the way a college should—like a movie campus.” But Marilyn’s take was, “Everything matched at Wellesley, and what if I didn’t? I loved the fact that nothing at Smith matched!

I figured that if the student body was as varied and eclectic as the campus, I had a pretty good shot at being successful there. Plus I thought I wanted to be a theater major. And at that time, Uta Hagen, a New York director and actress, was guest teaching at Smith. It sounded like, among the Seven Sisters, Smith would have the best

Marilyn doesn’t think the work ethic was the only driver in her entrepreneurial family: “It was the fun and the joy of business and being creative and engaged and involved.”

theater department. And finally, I had a wonderful interview. The woman I met with sat back and said, ‘You will come to Smith and you will not major in theater.’ I remember it exactly— and I thought that was really intriguing.”

As a student, Marilyn had plenty of academic guidance. “Certainly Miss [Dorothy] Bacon was a mentor. I took her economics course. My father said that since he was paying for my education, he should be able to pick one course. And so he picked economics.” But her father began thinking that economic theory at

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Curt Carlson turning over the reins of the company to Marilyn in 1998

Marilyn’s father, entrepreneur Curt Carlson, began thinking that economic theory at Smith was rather liberal, so he became his daughter’s “mentor.” “He started calling me at night and giving me tutorials on the free-market system. I had to give up studying at the dorm.”

Smith was rather liberal, so he became his daughter’s “mentor” too. “Right about that time my father put in a wats line at the company.

He started calling me at night and giving me tutorials on the free-market system. I had to give up studying at the dorm and go to the library because it was the only place where I could avoid these lengthy calls.”

Before settling on a major, Marilyn decided she wanted to take her junior year abroad. She thought of going to London to study literature, but “Dad thought English literature was taught as well at Smith as in England.” She then

thought about Paris for French literature, but “The French department pointed out that I was ‘just ok ’ at French and the private-school kids were a lot better at French than I was.” She then went to Miss Bacon, who wanted her to major in economics and had what she thought was the perfect solution. “She suggested I major in international economics, go to New Zealand, and write about sheep and rural industries.

Well, I was excited about economics, but New Zealand and rural industries?” So finally she and I negotiated Geneva, which actually changed my life, because I studied the beginning of the European Common Market. I went to the University of Geneva–Institute des Hautes Etudes Economiques et Politiques and wrote my thesis on the inevitability of Great Britain having to move away from her empire and closer to the Common Market.”

“At graduate school in Geneva, the international nature of the student body was again so enlightening. There were only a couple of women; it was mostly men who were sent from developing countries to prepare for diplomatic or government service. To this day I have friends from Egypt and Iran and various locations in addition to Europe.”

Like many Smith alums, Marilyn developed lifelong friendships with her roommates.

She also feels fortunate to have become friends with other Minnesota alumnae in the years since graduation. She mentions Ann Pflaum ’63 (see interview on page 90), Margaret Wurtele ’67, Mary Taylor ’55, Sally Pillsbury ’46 (see interview on page 46), and Joanne Von Blon ’45 (see interview on page 40). “There is a Smith connection,” says Marilyn. “I went to some planning meetings at Joanne’s home, and I’ll never forget seeing on her wall that she was a member of the naacp . That was before all that

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went on in the ’70s. This inclusivity is so important to me.” Musing further, Marilyn remembers organizing things for the local Smith Club fund-raiser, Smith Day in the Country, in the early 1970s. “Copies of Our Bodies, Ourselves in brown wrap were delivered to the Pillsbury home for the sale. I remember asking Sally if she had the courage to put them out. That was a big deal—Our Bodies, Ourselves.

Sally, of course, urged me to display the books.”

Mary Taylor and Marilyn created a program called Dare to Dream for the Minnesota club in 1995. “We wanted to raise Smith awareness among able high school students. The program included speakers who had realized their dreams, however improbable—the first woman in the astronaut program, the woman who started the first women’s bank, an actress who had become a producer, and others. We told the girls at the end that the presenters had all gone to the same wonderful school, Smith College, which believes in women and believes they can achieve! We told them, ‘We want you to take yourself seriously, think about your opportunities, and know that you can change the world.’ And we did get quite a few recruits out of this!”

Looking over a list of her many volunteer accomplishments, Marilyn says she was “in-between” in terms of the social movements of the time. “I came after Betty Friedan and Gloria Steinem and before the marching. But I was here [in the Twin Cities], involved. I proposed the first black woman for membership in the Junior League, Joyce Hughes Smith.

I had to go to Colorado Springs to the national meeting and defend the nomination in front of 2,000 women. One woman from the South said, ‘A dog can come in my front door, but not this person you are proposing to the Junior League.’

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I was pregnant at the time and I remember thinking that I was going to have my baby on the spot. Joyce Smith’s membership did end up being approved.”

Marilyn remembers when including women on boards of directors was controversial; women usually led an organization’s auxiliary while the board of directors was all male. “Women had taken leadership roles during the war when there were no men here, but unfortunately that was seen as an aberration.” Marilyn was, she thinks, only the second woman president of the United Way, and she was the first female chair of the United Way Campaign.

“I was once given a piece of good advice: ‘The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.’ And I think that means knowing yourself, knowing what is really important to you, and being willing to stay centered.”

“Living in one place your whole life gives you such a wonderful opportunity to do volunteer work. The thing about volunteer positions is that you have a lot of exposure. You raise money from corporations, you raise money from individuals, and you make a lot of friends—it’s natural networking.” For example, when organizing the Symphony Ball in the mid-’70s, Marilyn met Harry Holtz. “He was intrigued with my economics background. I was organizing all the finances and raising the money for the ball, and he invited me onto the board of First Trust—my first experience on a corporate board, and I was the first woman to serve there.”

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As a corporate board member, Marilyn was in a position to examine the problems that developed as women entered top management.

“There were women who felt they experienced sex discrimination when they were passed over [for promotion]. I watched women who were so full of anger in that period and some who really did self-destruct. What was hard for me was to differentiate between true discrimination and what was the honest selection of the best candidate. I committed to myself that if the day ever came where I was in a position to do so, I would create a real meritocracy.” Marilyn also

“I didn’t get it all done at once. I don’t think you sit at the beginning and plan out all your goals. You just get started.”

decided to emphasize skills assessment early on so women could learn what they would need for top management. “We could then get them ready, rather than have them be constantly bypassed, which is what was happening.”

Asked what Minnesotans need to do to secure our future, Marilyn said, “I think we have to bridge the performance gap in school between Caucasians and our minority populations.

Also, it is essential that we start thinking longer term and make some sacrifices to create a transportation system that can get people to work. And, we have to be much more inclusive in our work settings. I’m particularly proud that at Carlson, we have about 49% women executives.

We’ve been honored in the restaurant business as being leaders in that regard.”

Like her father before her, Marilyn has been active at the University of Minnesota. “I have

been very passionate about starting the Center for Integrative Leadership at the University, a collaboration between the Carlson School of Management, the Humphrey Institute of Public Affairs, the Law School, and others. The idea is to create a graduate level effort that cuts across all these disciplines by developing case studies that examine ramifications of a problem from different points of view. There is an interconnectedness that these silos of study don’t take into consideration when training leaders.”

Marilyn had a number of Truths to pass on. “I was once given a piece of good advice: ‘The main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing.’ And I think that means knowing yourself, knowing what is really important to you, and being willing to stay centered.”

Staying centered has surely helped Marilyn and Glen, her husband of 47 years, deal with many situations in their own lives. “One of our daughters died in an auto accident, our son had a liver transplant and we thought we were going to lose him, our youngest daughter is gay—these are all things that I did not expect to have happen in my life.”

Continuing her words of wisdom: “Anger can be emotionally destructive. Channeling it into positive energy is important. I’d say when you’re dealing with injustice, you can have righteous indignation but use that to make change.”

A final note of advice, especially for women: “Be patient. My daughter, when she was 16, found my love letters to Glen. She said, ‘Mom, you wrote Dad from Europe that you wanted to marry him, you wanted to have four children, you wanted to be an international diplomat, and you might want to go into your father’s business some day. If I had been Dad I just would have laughed getting all those letters.’”

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With husband Glen and their grandchildren

The fact is, Marilyn has accomplished all those goals. “But I didn’t get it all done at once.

I don’t think you sit at the beginning and plan out all your goals. You just get started. What worked for me was just to try to work with what I had at hand in such a way that I could be proud of the results, and then, if I felt something needed to be changed, I went about trying to help change it.”

Marilyn’s book, How We Lead Matters: Reflections on a Life of Leadership, was published in 2008, but she’s been recognized as a world leader for a long time. She was invested in the French Legion d’Honneur for her exemplary service to humanity. Sweden honored her with the Royal Order of the North Star First Class, presented by the King and Queen. The President of Finland presented her with the Order of the White Rose, Officer First Class. And her

business and organizational leadership is exemplified by her service as a member of the board of directors for ExxonMobil, the Mayo Clinic, the Foreign Policy Association, the Center Encouraging Corporate Philanthropy, and the Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts.

Her last comment in our interview focuses on this very oral history project undertaken by the Smith College Club of Minnesota: “There are lots of heroes, you know.” By celebrating the contributions of Smith graduates, Marilyn says, “You are finding the ‘sheroes.’”

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Ann at Sandringham in Norfolk, England, with husband Steve, 2006

A Diminutive Historian with an Expansive Sense of History Ann Mitchell pflaum ’63 Interviewed by Mary Ravlin Gould ’50 on March 16, 2008

Ann Mitchell Pflaum is a font of information.

She seems to remember everything and basks in the tales and details of the past as well as the present. It’s not surprising she has a doctorate in history and is writing her second history book.

Ann’s own family history in Minnesota began when several ancestors ventured west in the 1880s and ’90s. The Shevlins, an Irish family from Albany, New York, went into the lumber business here. Like other lumber operations, the company moved to the West Coast about 1910 when there were no more tracts of lumber to cut in Minnesota. But the Shevlins remained in Minnesota.

Ann’s maternal grandfather, David Tenney, operated a company that loaned money to farmers for seed and equipment. “When farming went ‘belly up,’ my grandfather lost everything. But since his wife, Florence Shevlin Tenney, had money, they were able to carry on.”

Florence and David Tenney’s daughter Alice was Ann’s mother.

Ann’s paternal grandfather, Robert Mitchell, was initially in the saddle business, then in the shoe business. Even though he didn’t do well in the economic depression of the late 1800s, his son Bob, Ann’s father, was able to attend Harvard on a scholarship and later became a lawyer.

Ann’s mother had an unusual career for the 1930s. She was an artist. Her parents respected

that and didn’t press her to go to college. She moved to New York City to pursue her painting career, holding a number of one-woman shows.

Returning to Minneapolis at the end of the decade, she married Bob Mitchell in 1940.

The Navy moved the couple to Massachusetts, where Ann was born in 1941. At 2½ pounds, she was the second-smallest baby ever to survive at the Boston Lying–In Hospital.

Alice painted three murals in Minneapolis which no longer exist—one for the Westminster Church Sunday School, one for the Jolly Miller room in the now defunct Nicollet Hotel, and the third for what was then called the Warner Hardware.

The values Ann was raised by were “balance, fairness, accuracy, and bemusement over the foibles of people. I learned early on that there aren’t many people who like to laugh at themselves, or like to laugh at their own culture.

A great story I’ve always loved—it was probably apocryphal—is of the man who got up at a Minneapolis School Board meeting and objected strenuously to the introduction of foreign languages. ‘If English was good enough for the Lord Jesus, it’s good enough for us!’”

Ann recalls she was one of only three Democrats in the Northrop Collegiate Lower School at the time of Adlai Stevenson’s 1952 presidential run. “I remember crying all the way to school the morning after the election. I had

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2001

Ann’s first geology paper at Smith “came back with C minus minus minus, with the minuses made to look like a trail of tears by the teaching assistant.”

a fistful of quarters because I had to pay off all my bets. Stevenson lost, and I learned then that your father isn’t always right.”

Ann’s introduction to Smith came through Northrop friend Susan Dalrymple Wilson, whose grandmother Bernice Dalrymple ’10 had gone to Smith. Her family had a big farm in North Dakota and Ann was invited to visit. “It was arranged that I was to travel there by train with Mrs. Bernice Dalrymple. I was in the fifth grade and instructed that I was to find out that Smith College is a wonderful place, ask nice things about it, and learn gin rummy.”

“Once on the train, Mrs. Dalrymple took me to the dining car. She was wearing a blue jacket with a demurely open front. The train lurched and the waiter spilled water all over her. Calmly, and without interrupting our conversation, she pulled the linen tablecloth off the table and

put it down her front. I was agape. If a Smith graduate could handle such a catastrophe without a moment’s hesitation, Smith must be a good place to go.”

By the time Ann was ready to apply to college, she and her family had moved to California.

Not many girls went to Smith from California, but it was her first choice, she applied early, and she was accepted.

She acclimated to her new experience with characteristic zest and enthusiasm. “I love history, and I loved the history department.”

Ann’s advisor, Jean Wilson, was from Minnesota and had graduated from Smith in 1924. “I also studied geology with Marshall Schalk, and he was a lot of fun. I was not a great geology student, though, and I’ve never forgotten my first geology paper. It came back with C minus minus minus, with the minuses made to look like a trail of tears by the teaching assistant— meaning I knew no geology at all.”

Of her relationships at Smith, Ann says, “I lived in Chapin House and loved my roommates and friends. Our housemother was humorous Nannie Glidden from Maine. Also living with us in Chapin was Dorothy Bacon, an economics professor and Nixon supporter.

I loved debating with her about Nixon!”

After graduating with honors from Smith, Ann earned her master’s degree at Harvard in 1964. She then returned to Minnesota, and in 1976 received her PhD in history from the University of Minnesota.

Meanwhile, in 1965, Ann had married fellow Minnesotan and Amherst alumnus Steve Pflaum. They have two sons, Bruce and Andrew, both of whom are married and live away from Minnesota. One daughter-in-law, Hanne Barnes, is a 1994 graduate of Smith. Ann reports finding her “little commutes” back

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Celebrating mother-in-law Rosalynd Pflaum’s 90th birthday, 2007

and forth to visit her children and the three grandchildren “a great thing!”

Ann described many volunteer efforts during that period and later. “I tended to find my niche on boards, particularly on what are called nominating committees, their task being to look for new trustees. I could do that because I know a lot of people and have pretty good judgment, but I’m not the type who’s going to be chairman of the board or treasurer or secretary.”

Among her first board memberships was a stint with the Minnesota Opera. “That was a

wonderful experience—the frenzied drama of opera plots made the academic life in my future more comprehensible.” She also served on the board of the Guthrie Theater. “Ah, that’s a cast of characters,” says Ann. Ann claims that the most wonderful board experience she’s had was as an Alumna Trustee of Smith from 1977 to 1982. It was an interesting period at the college. “Smith was sort of in two worlds—the world of the students was a little more progressive than the world of the Alumnae Association [aasc ]. Gertrude (Trudy)

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Stella headed up the aasc and was very proper, set on form, and perhaps not particularly tuned-in to modern student life. I remember firsthand when the president of the Board, Dorothy Marshall, a Smith grad and faculty member at Boston University, joined Smith’s graduation parade wearing the traditional white dress but with a sprinkling of blue flowers.

You would have thought from Trudy Stella’s expression that Dorothy had chosen to march nude! That’s when I realized it was kind of the end of an era.”

Ann’s volunteer experience with the Minnesota Opera “was a wonderful experience — the frenzied drama of opera plots made the academic life in my future more comprehensible.”

Fascinated by history, Ann has found a number of connections between the Smith world and Minnesota. “Ada Comstock came from Moorhead, Minnesota. She graduated from Smith in 1897, accepted an assistantship in the University of Minnesota’s department of rhetoric and oratory in 1900, and in 1907 became the first Dean of Women at the University of Minnesota. While at the University, Comstock helped persuade my great-grandfather to donate money for a Women’s Center at the University— Shevlin Hall.”

“There’s a romantic story about Comstock.

Wallace Notestein, a professor of English history (initially at Minnesota and later at Yale) asked her to marry him. She said, ‘No, I intend to complete my career!’ She returned to Smith

in 1912 as the first Dean of the College. From Smith, she was recruited in 1923 by Radcliffe to become its full-time president. (Smith would not have a female president until Jill Ker Conway in 1975.) In 1943, when Ada was 67 and both she and Wallace were retired (she from Radcliffe, he from Yale), Ada Comstock finally married Wallace Notestein and they lived happily until her death in 1973. That shows deferral is not a ‘no’ forever!”

“Another Minnesota connection who was quite extraordinary was Anne Morrow Lindbergh. She was at a Trustees dinner being introduced around. Someone said to her, ‘This is Ann Mitchell Pflaum, and she is from Minnesota.’ Mrs. Lindbergh and I are both about the same diminutive height. She looked at me, her eyes brightened, and said, ‘You know my husband was from Minnesota!’”

“Perhaps Smith alums who studied under Mary Ellen Chase don’t know that she also had a connection to Minnesota. She was probably the most beloved English professor at Smith, teaching Bible literature and history. She had earned her PhD at the University of Minnesota because she had been advised to travel here from Maine where she had grown up. This advice came because she had ‘pre-tuberculosis,’ and the Minnesota climate was then considered beneficial to health! At the University she realized she wasn’t going to be promoted beyond assistant professor, because the University was not ready in the 1930s to promote women. So she headed east to Smith, and soon after was made a full professor.”

Ann’s own professional life has centered on the University of Minnesota, where she is “a long-term administrator—I’m almost invisible.”

Her career at the University began in the mid-’70s when they needed someone to do an

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institution-wide study for Title ix , and it had to be done right away. “‘ If you can come in Monday we’ve got a job for you.’ That was the turning point, and I never left the University.”

“Two years later we did a similar survey for what is known as Section 504, which involves access for handicapped students. I was on the Waseca campus visiting a welding lab when a man lifted up his welding visor and asked, ‘Why are you here?’ I answered, ‘We’re doing an inventory and studying access for persons with disabilities.’ He looked at me and said, ‘We’ve never had a disabled here, but we had a girl here once… .’”

In 1988 Ann became Associate Dean of Continuing Education, which she found “most enjoyable.” Then, in 2000, “I had the chance, just before the University’s 150th anniversary, to be named University Historian and work on a biography of the institution, completed in 2001.”

Ann is now part of a team working on a new history of Minnesota, which will essentially replace Theodore Blegin’s Minnesota: A History of the State, published in 1963. In addition, she organized four public panels at the University to celebrate Minnesota’s 150th birthday. “They were our way of looking at the state’s past and at what may lie ahead.”

Ann’s love of Minnesota is palpable.

“Minnesota is a place where, because of its relatively small size and compactness, people can cross barricades and have an impact unlike what’s likely in much larger cities. An example I love from our own History of Minnesota: A demonstrator told me that he and a professor went up to Jim Binger [former president and ceo of Honeywell] and talked to him about the cluster bombs his company was making.

They had a very civilized discussion, and at the end of the meeting, Binger said he was going

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to continue making bombs but that the visitors had ‘every right to protest.’”

Ann’s no-nonsense advice for young Smith grads is the same she gives University students who wander into her office periodically. “I ask them to sit down with a paper and pencil and compute the year they will be 70. Then I say ‘Everything we read tells us that you will have five completely different careers by the time you are 70, so as you’re thinking about preparing yourself, think of what is going to give you the greatest flexibility—you’re going to need a lot with five different careers.’”

Though she claims not to be the board chair type, Ann has utilized her quiet leadership skills for the benefit of the Smith Club of Minnesota.

She served as club president from 1975 to 1977.

And in 1983, she co-chaired the 50th anniversary celebration of Smith Day in the Country, the club’s annual fund-raiser.

Still petite, Ann claims to do all her clothes shopping at Smith Day. She enjoys hunting for treasures from the past—not surprising for an historian.

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During an assessment of accessibility at a welding lab at a University of Minnesota campus, a welder told Ann, “We’ve never had a disabled here, but we had a girl here once… .”

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words from our trainers

Observations About Oral History

Oral History: Personal and Intergenerational Dynamics

james e. fogerty

ellen luepker

minnesota historical society

smith school of social work msw ’66

Oral history has become the medium of choice for many institutional and community history projects.

Its flexibility allows for use in a wide variety of settings, thus enabling interested volunteers to create a historical record of civic, community, educational, and other organizations that might otherwise not exist.

The Smith College Club of Minnesota oral history project provides an excellent example of what can be achieved by a talented group of volunteers.

Participants in that project have ensured the survival of significant insights on an institution and those whose lives it influenced. In addition, they have created a platform that can be used to launch future projects and also used as a template by other chapters and, indeed, by other institutions to record their own histories.

In a world increasingly dominated by the useful but ephemeral communications provided by e-mail, text messaging, and the ubiquitous cell phone, oral history allows individuals a structured way in which to leave a permanent record of their thoughts, opinions, and commentary on specific issues. Oral history is thus a critical tool that provides the opportunity to add individual perspectives to institutional history.

james fogerty, Head of Documentary Programs for the Minnesota Historical Society, served as consultant and co-trainer for the Minnesota Smith Club’s oral history project.

“The years teach much that the days never knew.” ~ralph waldo emerson An oral history project, like the one undertaken by the Smith College Club of Minnesota, is one of the most rewarding and stimulating experiences of a lifetime.

It is an energetic process that elevates us to new levels of being human.

For narrators—the people being interviewed—the opportunity to reflect on life experiences and what we have contributed to others enriches us. It helps us make sense of our lives. It is particularly rewarding in later years, as we anticipate the day when we will no longer be around to share our stories.

Oral history is even more meaningful when it occurs within the encouraging context of an intergenerational community. It is exciting to know that one’s stories matter to younger generations.

For interviewers, the oral history process is also very important. In the Smith Club project, through hearing stories of older alumnae we learn more about ourselves, our own possibilities, and the role Smith College has played, or can play, in our own lives.

What follows are personal and intergenerational dynamics of reminiscence that I have learned from conducting such interviews for the past 13 years.

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Centrality of Narrative in Human Development

Perspective in Later Years

Creating meaning through narrative is central to normal human development throughout the life cycle.

Children develop a sense of self and an understanding of events and their emotions through co-constructing narratives with their parents and grandparents. We see toddlers becoming calmer once they develop the ability to put into words what has happened, what is

The ability to achieve perspective on the meaning of events appears to be more possible in later years than earlier, and engaging in an oral history project helps to create perspective. “It gave me eyes to see what I couldn’t see before,” a woman in her 80s told me

going to happen, and how they feel about it.

Similarly, teens develop their identity through hearing stories of elders and constructing narratives of their own experiences. In Garrison Keillor’s film A Prairie Home Companion, a morose, self-preoccupied teenage girl gains confidence and a more constructive sense of self through listening to her mother and aunt reminiscing about their mother and hearing stories of her father as a young man. By the end of the film, the formerly withdrawn young woman takes her own place on the stage of life, belting out her own rendition of the song Frankie and Johnny.

after several interviews.

Preparation Is Key to Success In addition to the exciting opportunities an oral history project offers, narrators may also feel some risk or uneasiness walking into unpredictable and tape-recorded interviews. The following steps help narrators feel at ease and ensure that interviews go well: »»

purpose of the project, including what to expect in the interviews.

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Heightened Need for Narrative in Later Years

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While narrative is central to development, many authors have noted a heightened need to review and to create meaning and perspective later in life. In Rhetoric, Aristotle observed elders’ need for reminiscence. In his film Wild Strawberries, Ingmar Bergman portrayed poignant examples of a distinguished elderly physician’s vivid reminiscences of himself as a child and young adult. We witness how his recollections transform him and inspire him to develop warmer relationships with his family. In A Christmas Carol, Dickens portrays a remarkably similar theme of reminiscence and personal evolution.

“Through the ages, storytelling has been the office of the elder members of the community, those in the second half of life,” wrote my Minnesota colleague Mary Ann Miller, a Jungian psychoanalyst, in her book chapter “The Mists of Lake Wobegon: The Archetypal

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Function of an American Storyteller.”

Narrators need clear information about the Narrators need time to prepare and review questions.

Narrators must be allowed to choose what they say.

Narrators must have the opportunity for informed agreement after receiving information about the project and audience.

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Narrators should limit the length of sessions

to 1.5 or 2 hours to avoid fatigue and loss of focus.

Uniqueness of Each Narrator We cannot predict how oral history interviews will unfold. The nature of the process depends upon each narrator’s unique personality.

Some narrators feel comfortable relying on vivid, spontaneous memories. Others prefer to bring notes to their interviews. Some are ready soon; others require more time to prepare. I recall a college professor for whom precise details were important.

Before he was ready to schedule an interview with me, he needed to return to his hometown in Ireland and

words from our trainers

speak with his cousins in order to refresh his memory about childhood events.

How interviewers experience interviews can also vary according to the individual narrator. The spirit of an interview may mirror characteristics of the narrator.

After interviewing an expressive 88-year-old woman on her daughter’s stone patio in Wales for two hours, I felt as though I’d been riding on a fast train. I later told her nephew about my response. “That’s exactly how my aunt is … like a fast train,” he said.

Handling Interviewers’ Feelings Self-consciousness is a possibly uncomfortable feeling interviewers may experience before conducting interviews. Faced by the need to guide narrators through many questions within limited time, some want a “script” so they can “practice.” Even though both interviewers and narrators have the interview questions ahead of time, interviews are like conversations, not like speeches for which people can prepare with practice.

As a graduate student learning how to interview, I recall how anxious I felt before my first interview.

My teachers told me I needed to just “jump in.”

Though I knew they would help me debrief after the interview, it did not relieve my anticipatory anxiety.

It can help to quell anxiety by recalling a special personal experience we may have had in our own lives when telling someone something important to us—painful or joyful. What did that person do that made it feel rewarding? Was the person talkative or listening quietly? How did she seem to us? Was her face relaxed or stiff? Did she make eye contact or look away? Did she listen carefully or become distracted easily?

The power of listening is enormous, but it’s easier said than done. As I listened to recordings of my own early interviews, I found I talked far more than necessary, interrupting the narrator’s flow of thought.

Over time I learned to offer minimal prompting.

Open-ended questions, followed by quiet listening and soft, interested eye contact, often was the only encouragement narrators required to reflect on a question.

Summary Narrators and interviewers alike can expect a college club’s oral history project to be mutually rewarding.

The opportunity to create oral history fits naturally into older alumnae’s timely need to reflect on their lives, clarify contributions they have made, and make a difference in the lives of future generations of Smith women. It helps younger alumnae make sense of their own lives, including what the college has meant to them. With proper preparation, narrators and interviewers alike can expect comfortable, freely unfolding reminiscence within a semistructured format that is the key to an oral history project’s success.

ellen luepker, smith msw ’66, is a licensed independent clinical social worker and psychologist as well as founder of Living Portraits Guided Video Autobiography, a professional service assisting individuals, families, and organizations to preserve records of their histories. A member of the Smith College Club of Minnesota, she served as consultant and co-trainer for the club’s oral history project.

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strong women building strong communities

acknowledgments

Heartfelt Thanks This project was a labor of love for everyone involved.

Heartfelt thanks go to the 16 Smith women who graciously agreed to share their life stories. They are listed by class on the Contents page.

Thanks also to the Minnesota Historical Society for hosting two sessions of interviewer training. James Fogerty, Head of Documentary Programs for the society, gave us the benefit of decades of experience collecting oral histories and helping corporations, churches, and community groups conduct their own history projects.

Jim’s comments about the relevance and role of oral history are included on page 97.

Additional training was provided by Ellen Luepker, Smith School for Social Work MSW ’66, licensed independent clinical social worker and psychologist, and founder of Living Portraits Guided Video Autobiography. Ellen’s observations about the personal and intergenerational dynamics of oral history are also included as an inspiration to others.

Graphic design services for this book and its cover were contributed by Sarah Steil who was introduced to us by Diane Katsiaficas, Smith ’68. Sarah’s interest in oral history and women’s history and her love of books made her a valued member of our project team.

Several individuals at Smith College provided important guidance. Susan Van Dyne, Professor of the Study of Women and Gender, and Sherrill Redmon, Director of the Sophia Smith Collection, came to speak about the importance of oral history and women’s history. College Archivist Nanci Young offered expertise and assistance, as did Meri Hoverman, the Alumnae Association’s Assistant Director for Clubs and Undergraduate Programs. President Carol Christ traveled to Minnesota to celebrate the publication of this book with us.

Of course the greatest thanks go to the dozens of club members who stepped forward to help. They were the “hearts” of the project—strong women building strong communities, in the Smith tradition.

Project Co-Chairs Betsey Whitbeck ’71 Holly Duff Dowds ’71 Marty Wallace Swain ’71 Laurie Maloff Kramer ’69

Interviewers and writers Ann Engebretson Carr ’70 Cynthia Borowski Dilliard ’79 Holly Duff Dowds ’71 Mary Ravlin Gould ’50 Mary Ward Gover ’56 Jane Anderson Howard ’75 Barbara Bockhaus Klaas ’74 Laurie Maloff Kramer ’69 Kate Lehmann ’78 Sophia Lenarz-Coy ’07 Cathy Muldoon ’88 Judy Neiswander ’69 Jessica Petocz ’02 Ann Mitchell Pflaum ’63 Patty Fistere Schmidt ’91 Betsey Whitbeck ’71 Molly Duff Woehrlin ’53

Transcription and equipment coordination Holly Duff Dowds ’71

Editors Marty Wallace Swain ’71 Betsey Whitbeck ’71 Jane Thomas Noland ’49

Photo coordination Regan McCormack ’90

advisor Liz Buckingham ’85

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