I caught up with the guys outside the apartments, where they were enjoying a mid-afternoon cold beverage and some characteristically intellectual conversation.  Cooper and Jeffrey each have a distinct sense of style that’s informed by their wide-ranging interests. They’re neither pretentious nor conformist, and always wear what they find most appealing, appropriate, and comfortable.  Next time you see Jeffrey and Cooper bicycling around Claremont, be sure to note their swag.

Cooper, you’re looking dapper today.  What are you wearing?

I’m wearing Levi’s 511 jeans—they fit well, so I just buy these in every color I need. I have on my Adidas Originals high-tops, a striped scarf from Fred Perry, and a button-up.  This is a J. Crew peacoat and sweater; I like J.Crew because you can dress nicely without paying a ridiculous amount. Their clothes are conservative, and hearken back to timeless styles that won’t look dated anytime soon.  This is one of my Nixon watches—I have two, because they’re simple, casual, and go with everything.

What inspires your personal style?

I think trying to stay on the cutting edge is kind of a losing battle.  You’re going to lose the battle if you wear a lot of the dumb sh*t GQ tells you to wear.  I read something about how we should all “wear yellow” right now.  I would strongly advise against wearing yellow.

For me, I’d say old films are most inspiring, in particular the French “New Wave.”  I like the looks from many Jean-Luc Godard films, like Jeanne-Pierre Léaud in “Masculin Féminin.” I think the Italians are a bit too flamboyant, but the French always look terrific.

What do you think someone’s style says about him or her?

It’s the first, immediate interaction—and that’s integral.  People always say style is a good way to show your personality; I guess that’s true, but then you run into trouble with the label obsession our culture has.  People might call you a “hipster” or “prep,” but I think it’s really about whether you’re well-dressed or not.  Jeffrey and I are completely different in our styles, but we both try to dress well.  That’s all that really matters.

What article of clothing could you not live without?

Well, there’s shoes.  You can’t get in too many bars without shoes.   I also love my peacoat—my sister hates it, but I love it.

Who on campus do you think has the most killer style?

I think Tyler McBrien (’13) really got it right with Professor Lobis.  Those spectacles—they’re awesome. Professor Petropolis, the chair of History department, is also very well put-together.

How has your sense of style evolved over the years?

I’ve gone through a lot of phases, you could say.  I’ve been through the punk phase, the I-don’t-give-a-shit phase…  I’ve built off each of those phases.  I still wear a lot of the things I’ve accumulated, but in a new way.

If CMC were any article of clothing, what would it be?

It’s got to be the tank top.

Jeffrey, you’re looking excellent yourself.  Tell me what you’re wearing.

I’m wearing some burgundy loafers, navy blue socks.  Burgundy cords, a button-down, and a cardigan sweater.  We don’t need to talk about labels—we really don’t.  This gold watch I’ve had for a while—it’s my fathers.

What inspires your style?

The weather.  I’m from Pasadena, just nearby.  I always check the forecast for the day to see what’s appropriate.  Also, comfort—comfort is key.

On a side note, I’m interested in what actually defines today’s style.  We look at britches or hoopskirts and think “costume”—what will people 100 years from now call our “costume?”

What do you think someone’s style says about him or her?

It’s the first thing you see.  In our culture, we’re all about the visual.  Often times that thing that’s inside the shell might not correspond with how someone sees you.  It’s always better to just be yourself.

Who on campus do you think has the most interesting style?

Professor Eric Haskell at Scripps.  Oh man, he monograms everything.  I’d never seen a monogrammed sweater, but he has one.  Wow.

How has your personal style evolved over the years?

In high school my uniform was khakis and a shirt and belt—all day, every day.  Then I started accumulating things, like Cooper, and incorporating them.  We’re young, so we’ll be acquiring things for some time.  If you’re able to buy nicer, well-made things, you can wear them the rest of your life.  This is just the beginning.

How would you describe CMC’s sense of style?

Ultimate comfort.  And I suppose it is just comfortable to wear sweats or a t-shirt…

What’s your biggest style DON’T?

Tight clothes.  Very tight clothes.  It just looks awkward.

What article of clothing could you not live without?

I’m in love with these shoes I’m wearing, and I think I’ll just buy them the rest of my life.  These tassels—they are little mink tails.  I was buffing them one day and the tassel came off, so I added these fur tassels myself.  Plus, they keep my shoes clean.

Want more style? Check out Falling for fall, Sweet and Petite and Wear it CMC.

I read Book 2 in an ecstatic blur, and immediately backtracked to read the series’ first installment.  I was hooked.  I didn’t know how to pronounce Hermione, I didn’t yet realize that “Diagon Ally” spells diagonally—but I knew that I loved the characters and the world they inhabited.

Over the past decade or so, I’ve gone to great lengths to sate my thirst for Harry, Hermione, and Ron’s daring antics.  Last spring I flew to Edinburgh from Granada, Spain (where I was studying abroad) to see the first part of the seventh movie in English.  I couldn’t allow the bad Spanish telenovela voices redubbing the English accents to ruin the magic.  In Edinburgh, I took the Harry Potter tour, and visited the locations and landmarks most vital to J.K. Rowling’s vision.  I even had a wand fight in the very graveyard that inspired the many pivotal Harry-versus-Voldemort scenes.

And my graduation trip at the end of senior year?  Lacey McLean (CMC ’12) and I will be on our way to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Orlando, a trip we’ve been plotting since its opening.  I can think of no better way to celebrate the end of four years of academic struggle and perseverance than by honoring the boy wizard who epitomizes triumph over evil—after, of course, the thesis fountain party.  But that’s another magical tale.

In light of my complex but wonderful history with Harry Potter, summarizing my thoughts on Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2 is difficult.  While I love almost anything HP-related, I don’t think anything could live up to my imagination’s version of the final chapter.  With her linguistic facility and foresight, J.K. Rowling is a true literary master.  What other author can throw us for so many unexpected twists and turns, make us cry (and then laugh) every 200 pages, and spin the most seemingly insignificant detail into pivotal plot point four books later?

While the movie was an acceptable end to the franchise, I have some serious gripes.  Here are my top 5 reasons for disliking the last movie in the series.

1.  It was too dark.  Not emotionally, but I-actually-can’t-see-because-of-these-stupid-3-D-glasses dark.  With the dark lenses and the film’s already dim ambience, 3-D made HP almost impossible to see.  Bright colors aren’t used till the epilogue scene for plot-related reasons, but these other factors impacted my vision and enjoyment.  Critics at Rotten Tomatoes dubbed the film “visually dazzling.” How on earth they were able to see well enough to decide this is beyond me.



2.  My beef with 3-D.  I tend to dislike 3-D movies and try to avoid them, but in this case I had no other options… and, as usual, I hated it.  If there’s ever a series you don’t need to pull stunts like 3-D with to make it more magical, it’s Harry Potter.  Don’t give the audience headaches and nausea, give them a good film!

3.  The time anachronisms.  When I discovered Harry was born in 1980, I was devastated.  I felt tricked: I’d thought my favorite wizard had been growing up in lockstep with me, but he was actually 10 years older.  I was crushed.  If you’re going to pull these kinds of stunts on me, J.K., at least give your characters the right wardrobes!  These kids looked much too fashionable for the early 90’s.  I remember those days– denim jackets, skorts, and all– and it wasn’t pretty.



4.  Gaping plot holes.  I realize it’s hard to weave every single detail of a book into a film version, but what happened to literary loyalty? Make the movie 20 minutes longer and actually tell the story. The Albus-Aberforth-Ariana relationship and family back story, and the subsequent doubting of Dumbledore’s motivations?  Nearly nonexistent.  The Pensieve scene with young Snape and Lily?  Visually enticing, but nowhere near as emotionally powerful as the book’s rendition; a quick trip through fantasyland just doesn’t cut it.  And James Potter, Harry’s own flesh-and-blood, looks nothing like Daniel Radcliffe.  In fact, Harry’s dad doesn’t even have a speaking role– major let-down, in my opinion.  The director had the time and the budget to nail this final installment in the series; he should have been able to get these crucial bits right.



5.  Extraneous inclusions.  I’m talking about you, Luna and Neville love story.  If you’re going to skip critical plot points due to time constraints, don’t include sappy garbage that wasn’t even in the book.

I sadly admit I left the theater dissatisfied for the first time in Harry Potter history.  Perhaps I was expecting too much after reading review after glowing review.  But despite my complaints about this film, I still love Harry… and I always will.  You can bet that some of the beer served in my apartment this year will be Butterbeer, because even though the characters have grown up, moved on, and started families of their own, I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.

Invisible Man (Ralph Ellison)

Maybe legendary former CMC professor Adam Bradley inspired you to read this National Book Award winning masterpiece.  Maybe you’ve heard about the novel’s fascinating plot, complex characters, and perspective-shifting breakdown of race, identity, and existentialism in America.  Either way, this is one of those classics you simply must read.

The Unbearable Lightness of Being (Milan Kundera)

Set in Communist Prague during the spring of 1968, this novel explores the intellectual life of Czech society during a critical period in European history.  Don’t be fooled by the title: the philosophical underpinnings of this book are anything but “light.”  Kundera challenges Nietzsche’s concept of eternal recurrence with a thought-provoking alternative.

The Sun Also Rises (Ernest Hemingway)

Modernist icon Ernest Hemingway presents a captivating novel that chronicles the vibrant lives of American and British writers as they “came of age” abroad during World War I.  From the bullfights of Pamplona, Spain to the literary cafes of Paris, Hemingway’s novel is an almost cinematic journey into the expatriate’s Europe.

Just Kids (Patti Smith)

Rock star Patti Smith also happens to be a talented, poetic writer with an incredible story to tell.  Smith’s gorgeous memoir not only captures a snapshot of the artist’s New York City during the bohemian 1960s and 70s, but also paints a portrait of photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, her longtime creative partner.  This insider’s ode to an era of music, love, art, and beauty is breathtaking… and tearjerking.

Chronic (D.A. Powell)

California poet D.A. Powell shares a collection of contemporary poetry that is at once accessible and entrancing.  Powell masters the nearly impossible task of simultaneously conveying both the outside world and a person’s innermost thoughts.  The LA Times writes that Powell “can paint the weed-choked cemeteries of the Central Valley and also the cluttered toy chest of his memory.”  We’re intrigued.

The Monkeywrench Gang (Edward Abbey)

Ed Abbey is the original eco-warrior.  His billboard-burning, dam-busting cast of unforgettable characters will transport you to the author’s beloved Southwest for some “monkeywrenching”: general sabotage, law-breaking, or activism to preserve wild spaces.  Abbey’s characters are far from granola-crunching hippies; the author portrays a group of environmentalists with a penchant for red meat, whiskey, and keeping the earth free.

Have you already read these? Want more from the NON-required reading list? Here is my list from year. Got more ideas? Suggestions? Please add to the list with comments below. Enjoy!

Oh CMC, how thrilled I am to return to you in the fall! I can only hope that all of you back on campus have had a stellar spring semester—I certainly have. As my time abroad wraps up I have become prone to random bouts of contemplation, the fruits of which are the following.

I have been in Siena—a medieval town in the heart of Tuscany—for four glorious months, and I know it will be heart wrenching to leave. Upon our arrival, we were debriefed on the emotional stages of a typical ‘study abroad’ period, of which I have experienced one: the romantic stage. Sure, I’ve missed family, friends and In-N-Out Burger, but there is simply too much to love in Siena to spend any time pining for the comforts of home. Home will always be there, but my time abroad is fleeting. And so I have compiled a list of the things that have grown dearest to my heart here, the things I will undoubtedly miss most when I return to the States.

I have found many testaments to the Italian affinity for beauty. The percentage of Italy, of places, things and people that are just beautiful is ridiculous. There is a value of the aesthetic here in almost every facet of life.  In terms of art and architecture, Italy is unrivaled in both beauty and plentitude. From Siena’s magnificent striped Duomo to the incredible Uffizi and Accademia galleries of Firenze, there are stunning churches, paintings, sculptures and buildings in every single Italian city. The amount of splendor to be absorbed in this country is astonishing, from the fading crimson of an ancient fresco to the strikingly lifelike form of a statue, transformed from marble block by the human hand.

Fashion is one of the most celebrated ways in which the Italians express a zeal for all things beautiful. Sleek, sophisticated Armani suits and painstakingly crafted Ferragamo heels are on the more upscale side of Italy’s sartorial offerings, but there is even a kind of beauty in more ‘Eurotrash’ style.  Garish patterns, cheap fabrics, strange color combinations and confused lines that encompass the ‘Eurotrash’ look could only be scorned by a total snob.  An undeniable type of beauty is in these ensembles.  Of course the ultimate beauty of Italian fashion, tasteful or outrageous, lies in the incredible ability of its wearers to pull just about any outfit off. I feel at once perplexed and impressed by the inexplicable capacity of Italians to wear things I would undoubtedly look and feel ludicrous in: a fabulous cream pantsuit, a pair of baggy grey sweats tapered at the ankle, or even a jacket tied around the waist.  I can only aspire to gain that Italian sensibility on some level before I leave.

And the cuisine encapsulates an elemental, irresistibly alluring kind of beauty. That fleeting, hedonistic beauty all foodies find in the fragrance of perfectly aged cheese, a cone of cloudlike gelato, or the brightness of fresh, green basil atop a mound of spaghetti al pomodoro.

But here the most beauty can be found in the simplest of things: the gleam of green shutters in the afternoon sun, the scent wafting into the street from a pizzeria, or basking for hours in Piazza del Campo with a six-pack of Birra Morretti. Of course the unapologetic pleasure so many Italians take in all these things, the immense joy with which they lead their lives and take their world in, makes every day all the more beautiful. And it is the beauty in the every day that I will miss most when I leave here and that I will try most to keep in my heart when I am gone. My friends at home may need to prepare themselves for a slightly more bold, indulgent, spirited version of me- or at least the me they know well, striving to be just a little bit more Italian.

This passage is the first of many entries on my blog, http://lifeinbauteworld.tumblr.com/. Grazie a tutti!

Baci,

Jennifer Baute

“The Analyst Papers,” named in honor of CMC’s first student newspaper, the Analyst, is a five-part series published by the Forum, the official student publication of Claremont McKenna College.

For the first time, the history of Claremont McKenna has been brought online. The Analyst Papers has been published in the form of five accessible articles, with the aim of navigating through years of characters, monuments, and obstacles. CMC’s history is a short one, but a good one, and few know much of it. To learn it is to better understand what CMC stands for, its challenges and its future.

In 1996, the Trustees of CMC commissioned California historian Kevin Starr to write a book commemorating the College’s first fifty years. His remarkable work, “Commerce and Civilization: Claremont McKenna College, 1946-1996”, has been a key source for this series.

Additionally, CMC’s Development Office has opened the College’s archives to Forum staff for this project. We thank them, as well as the CMC Alumni Association, for access to primary sources and first-hand interviews.

Part I: The Founding: An Idea, Long Before a College

Part II: CMC’s Conservative Heart

Highlights in Part III:

· CMC’s campus mirrors the school’s founding philosophy, as well as the conditions in California that existed as it was developed. North Quad in particular represents a unique space on its own terms, personifying the school’s founding struggles.

· Within its first four years, the school grew from six prefabricated units to an early draft of North Quad, with CMC’s four most iconic dorms standing erect.

· The Athenaeum, an idea first concocted in 1968 by Donald McKenna, was not completed as a space until 1983 – giving the campus an intellectual mantlepiece.

Part IV: Claremont Men’s College, with Women

Part V: Our Place in the Liberal Arts

____________

Part III

The Challenge of the Campus

While CMC's first students lived in the basement of Bridges Auditorium, dormitories that the College first called its own were vet units, pictured here in 1947.

In June of 1946, Robert Bernard made a judgment call.  Gordon Kaufmann, architect behind the primary Scripps College Quad and Harper Hall, had just completed his preliminary drawings for Honnold Library.  Bernard, a founding trustee, was planning on sharing these drawings with Marie Rankin Clarke – a wealthy and generous philanthropist who had expressed interest in the Group Plan.  George Martin, another trustee, had warned Bernard not to ask Clarke for money on behalf of the new men’s school, but rather to approach her as an emissary for the entire consortium. But Bernard, before bringing the drawings to Ms. Clarke’s room at the Biltmore, asked Kaufman to sketch in the hopeful foundations of CMC’s campus to the East of Honnold.

Up to that point, the only plans for a Claremont Men’s College campus were six prefabricated buildings, acquired as a result of a housing surplus at an Army Air Force Base in Santa Ana.  Called “hubs,” these units lived on as the original nickname for the Student Union and, now, The Hub. President Benson had purchased these units through the Federal Public Housing Authority – another New Deal program vital to the anti-New Deal boosters of the new college.

In its very first days, before these units arrived, CMC students lived in the basement of Bridges Auditorium, famously decorated with potted palm trees and referred to by its inhabitants as Coconut Grove. They took classes in makeshift rooms, surrounded by sheets draping from the ceiling in Bridges’ attic before the arrival of all the units.

Allison and Rible drew this blueprint for Claremont Men's College in 1947. It is likely the first of its kind.

While meeting with Ms. Clarke, Bernard explained what the area just East of the library contained – Claremont Men’s School.

Starr writes, “When Mrs. Clarke showed interest in the new school, Bernard followed up by sending her a copy of the program of the opening convocation, together with the photos of students living in the basement of Bridges Auditorium.”

Mrs. Clarke ended up giving $500,000 before the first semester of the school came to a close.  With such bold beginnings, the school incorporated, and began to plan out its physical environment.

Sixty years later, another trustee, Henry Kravis, would sit down with another architect, Raphael Vinoly, to dream up the next step for CMC’s academic village.  In between were six decades of transitional and incremental campus development.

Unlike Scripps, largely planned out and financed with Ellen Browning Scripps’ initial investment, CMC could only build a campus environment piece by piece. Each piece would provide CMC’s founders with serious fundraising challenges.  But each piece, at least through the 1970s, would reflect both the foundational ideas – California conservatism – as well as the norms of the typical American campus structure.

Somehow, these campus foundations had to be reconciled with a college that had visions way beyond the confines of acreage.

CMC’s campus is often discarded or discounted when compared to the gorgeous gardens of Scripps or the handsome and traditionally tailored campus of Pomona.  But while there is no aesthetic competition with the Scripps physique, CMC – North Quad in particular – has its own architectural legacy and stories.

This past reflects and twists the American notion of the campus space, symbiotic of both CMC’s daunting and unlikely struggle for national success, and its roots in California’s growth.  In short, the bleakness of CMC’s architecture, thanks to Benson, who had little concern with its form, is in itself something to celebrate.  CMC’s campus space is a story representative of conservative roots, social norms after World War Two, and California’s multi-partisan progressive tradition.  In this, North Quad provides its own brutal beauty.

CMC students made the most of limited resources, Analyst coverage shows.

The Group Plan became a vestigial of Los Angeles traditions of progressivism and boosterism. Bernard, in a Harper’s article, explained not just of CMC but the entire consortium: “No period of American history has a monopoly on founding…there is nothing to be undone here; we start from scratch.”

Only in California could such a statement be made. In 1923, a Los Angeles Times editorial read, “We are being hotly pursued by our future.” Los Angeles, never a static place, internalized these fears, explain historians, soldering themselves to doctrines of development. CMC’s founding is rooted in California’s fanatic 1920s growth.

Architecture, particularly in southern California, is an expression of history and social process. CMC is no exception, representing its own flavor of the “academic village,” derivative of a distinctly American feature of higher education – the idea of the university as a community in and of itself. For CMC, this community would mimic 1940s restraints: “values of thrift, efficiency, and functionalism,” explains Starr.

He continues, “Like the odds and ends of military attire favored by the undergraduates in the first two years, surplus housing units of either wood or steel vividly evoked the transitions of the postwar era.”

The first permanent structure was the original Story House.  The building, named after Russell M. Story, served as a dormitory, commons, and focal point for campus life. By 1947, however, work had already begun on dedicating the furnishings of a campus.

Out of a dire need for dormitories came the first pillar of North Quad.  Architecture firm Allison and Rible, an omnipresent character throughout the campuses accelerating first fifteen years of growth, presented Benson and his trustee building committee with their work: a dorm turned inside out.  Instead of a central corridor, rooms would be accessed from a first or second story gallery.  The endeavor, now Appleby Hall, turned out to be a cost-effective success in the short run. And the College’s first dorm came to personify CMC’s aspirations and inclinations – functional and pragmatic, yet democratic, and distinctly Californian.

By the 1950s, CMC's architects were asked to draw up plans for a student center that would be shared with Scripps College. It would eventually adopt its colloquial name, "The Hub."

Benson, aware of the need to define and begin projecting a campus for recruitment and fundraising needs, had Allison and Rible quickly turn the project into a master plan – the initial rendering of a four dormitory quadrangle with an adjunct cafeteria.  By 1950, the four-legged quad was enclosed by Appleby, Green, Boswell, and Wohlford.

The college rounded out the 1940s with Pitzer Hall at the Western end of the Quad.  Before construction, however, there was a need to acquire the land. After World War Two, California experienced a significant housing crisis. “Even the most embattled shelter represented an asset,” explained Starr.  In total, the trustees spent $100,000 to clear the land for Pitzer Hall.  With limited funds and Russell Pitzer’s gift already tied up in loans associated with the construction of the dormitories, trustees pored over Allison and Rible’s drawings looking to cut costs.  Hot water in the bathrooms was eliminated by Benson.  Fortunately, through small gifts and loans from local banks at the hands of respected trustees, construction started in 1949, mirroring the construction on the Eastern end of the quad of Boswell Hall.

In this 1952 rendering from a promotional pamphlet, the shape of the campus begins to crystalize.

Upon the conclusion of the Korean War in 1953, the American economy accelerated – particularly in Southern California, where a building boom commenced. CMC trustees, many personally reaping the rewards of the 1950s, were eager to fund CMC’s own building boom.  Pitzer Hall was expanded in 1955.  In 1957, construction on Collins Hall, giving North Quad a permanent dining location, was completed.  The dining hall sat just off the quad, overlooking the green with large glass windows that demanded a vibrant and public eating routine, a dramatic contrast with Mallott Commons’ intimate rooms or Frary’s monolithic dining room.

While amidst a boom, the overlapping projects pushed the College’s finances to its limits, mandating further austerity for the buildings.  But within fifteen years, CMC’s academic village had arrived, after donations and loans were precariously strung together, leaving behind evidence of the financial restrictions imposed on the campus’ architectural needs.  In 1959, the interest on the $750,000 in loans taken out from the bank and endowment was about the same as an associate professor’s salary.

Now with a campus, the trustees and administrators sought to further provide the furnishings the college’s environment. Sixteen projects, including Auen, Fawcett, Benson, Berger, and Marks Halls, were completed during the 1960s.  Pitzer Hall, by the 1960s, could no longer support the administrative needs of the school.  Bauer Hall, with its groundbreaking in 1967 after Modestus Bauer’s $2.2 million gift, provided the solution. Bauer Hall provided the eastern end of north quad, and, remarkably, was accepted as an impressive architectural terminus for the quad.  The building mimicked the themes of North Quad: exterior corridors, simple hints of Mediterranean style, and an emphasis function over form. Bauer Center, while certainly no rival to the Kravis Center across the quad, still provides CMC with its own academic rotunda, and has played a key role in defining North Quad as a dynamic and multipurpose place that contained residential, academic, administrative, and social spaces.

Claremont McKenna's current master plan calls for an extension of the College's original quad.

The following years, while not without construction, were years focused on academic and administrative planning and development. Little physical change occurred when the College went coed. It was not until the 1980s that North Quad received an intellectual mantlepiece with construction of the Atheneaum. Donald McKenna pushed the project to establish a permanent building for speakers and discourse.  As early as 1968, McKenna had formulated the concept of the Atheneaum, a space that could simultaneously serve as an intellectual hub to exchange and learn but also mesh with the school’s ambitions to maintain a residential college. A $2 million building, construction began in 1982 and was finished within a year.  Now the campus had an explicit space where intellectual pursuits flirted and mingled with the CMC community in a social setting.

With the completion of the Ath and now further aware of how its identity had adapted to changing times, CMC announced a Master Plan in the mid 1980s.  Of most importance, Starr notes, was the realization that the older buildings were “disconcertingly Spartan in appearance,” due to lack of funding, and the aesthetic minimalism of the founders. Still, the campus had overcome architectural austerity to develop a profound space that respected the academic ambitions of the College. And while the founders saw little intrinsic value in designing a campus beyond its basic needs, these very tenets had, in a twist of fate, created a unique California campus that would become cherished by its inhabitants.

Read Part IV: Claremont Men’s College, with Women.

To the left of the café’s barista is the lair of Harvey Mudd Literature professor Jeff Groves.  Bespectacled, bearded, and donning a denim apron, Professor Groves presides over the First-Floor Press and its six 19^th-century printing presses. Here, Professor Groves instructs Claremont students in the art of printing.  Each semester, Groves teaches a workshop that students can take for credit.  From business cards to calendars, from recipe cards for Aunt Jane’s kugel to poster-sized Ginsberg poems, the impressive projects of Groves’ students decorate the pint-sized place.

Groves started the Press in 2007, after being inspired to do so by a Scripps class on the history of books and the “book arts” which he audited while on sabbatical.  The class was an epiphany for Groves—he decided to devote his energy to starting a printing press, a rarity in the modern era.  Only one thing stood in the way of Groves’ nerdy but surprisingly thrilling dream: money.  “As luck would have it,” Groves explains with twinkling eyes, “a Mellon Grant and a certain Dr. Ed Petco made the First-Floor Press possible.”

Something of a legend in Groves’ world, Petco is the proud but aged owner of the Press’ cornerstone machine, a mammoth Columbian Eagle Press from 1850.  Cast-iron and topped with an enameled bald eagle, this press intimidates and inspires awe.  Groves uncovered this first press while sifting through storage in Honnold-Mudd.  With Dr. Petco’s press, a little TLC, and funding to buy additional presses, type, and other materials, the First-Floor Press was up and running.  “It’s fantastic how each press has its own history,” Groves notes.  “I found this press in a village in Idaho…it belonged to a man who was killed by a car while stumbling out of a pub.” Groves clearly has a passion for printing.

At first, the presses seem daunting: they’re immense, technical, and require knowledge of a language only true printers can speak.  Cheek, frisket, platen, girth, spindle…what?!  But when Professor Groves unearths a foldout book he’s hand-bound and printed, the effect is magical.  For bookworms and lovers of vintage kitsch, the First-Floor Press is a resource in need of use.  Next time your brain needs a break from O-Chem or Econ, check out the Press for a trip back in time… or sign up for Groves’ workshop next semester.

Most CMCers don’t know how the Athenaeum program started, or that CMCers used to hire typists for their senior theses, but one alumnus-in-residence remembers.

It was a leisurely, rainy and blustery Friday afternoon when I stepped inside CMC’s Claremont Boulevard building. After insisting that I help myself to some flower-shaped pieces of fruit, John Faranda, perhaps one of the most known CMC personalities, ushered me into his office. It was then, in between some idle chatter, some laughs, and some sharing of pictures, that I was able to interview the “Vice President of Alumni Relations.”

First, where you were born? Where did you grow up?

Well, I’m an Orange County person; I was born in Anaheim. I also lived in Illinois outside of Chicago for a while growing up. When I was at CMC my family moved to Saudi Arabia, so for a couple of years I was sort of an international student. Then I went to Washington DC on the CMC’s Washington Program, but I’m relatively a local to Southern California.

What was your favorite subject in school?

In school? That seems like a long time ago… I don’t know. I mean, I had a lot of fun in high school. French, German, and Speech were probably some of my favorite classes.

What did you do for fun? Outside activities? Hobbies? Extracurriculars?

Well, I was involved in student government. I was student body president in high school and junior class president and did a bunch of things with the school board. I did a lot of that kind of thing, and what I do now at CMC is sort of like being the student body president again and working with the school board. But now, instead of having a dance or a bake sale to raise a couple thousand dollars, we’re trying to have dances and bake sales that raise millions of dollars!

What made you choose to attend CMC?

I didn’t want to go especially far from home, which is ironic since my parents had by then moved to Saudi Arabia. My father had gone to Occidental College and it was probably my first choice at the time. It is a nice liberal arts college, but one of my father’s friends convinced me that Oxy’s time was past and that there was this up and coming men’s college I should look at in Claremont. When I came out here to visit, it just felt like a really good place for me. I was interested in government and economics and relatively conservative, so CMC fit better than Occidental.

What other activities were you involved with on campus at CMC?

I found CMC challenging and I spent a lot of time studying, but I was involved in College Republicans – I was President – and some other things on campus.

The old Athenaeum, which is now the Admissions Office, started as a place where professors could schedule classes. I think I was a first semester sophomore when my first class met there, and I was like “Oh this is cool!” I had never been there before, so I went and talked to the director and said, “You know this is really cool place, but if a professor doesn’t schedule something, you don’t get to come here. You should have some dinners that are just open for anyone at the school who wants to come.”

The Athenaeum Director said that dinners sounded like a good idea and that I should organize it. I was like, “Wait, no! I just wanted some free dinners!” But some students and I got involved in what we called the Meeting of the Minds Society, and we would schedule maybe one dinner a week. We pretty much went around to students at the other colleges and asked them who their favorite professors were, their Jack Pitneys, and we would have them come and talk for free because there was no budget for any of this. That first meeting morphed into the whole Athenaeum program. So that kept me busy. We also had what was called The James Madison Society, which was a political philosophy group and we organized a big conference once. I worked on that before, you know, there were Xerox machines, where you had to do all the printing by hand. Yeah, it was fun.

Were there any particularly good Athenaeum dinners that you recall?

From my era? I guess I would say the first President Bush was probably one of the most memorable speakers because I sat with him before we went into dinner and he, let’s see, had just finished being the CIA director, so it was before he ran for the presidency, but he wore these little reading glasses, and when he would talk to you, he would look over his notes and take his glasses off, and you felt when he took these glasses off as if he was opening up his soul to you. Milton Friedman was there, too. That was a very good talk, but the first George Bush was a pretty special meeting.

Were you ever “ponded” when you were here?

No I don’t think I was because at that time the ponding took place at Scripps and I think any of my friends were energetic enough to carry me there.

So how did you end up back at CMC then?

After graduation, I worked for two ethics committees, but I was involved with the alumni association and doing a bunch of things. I was at the Athenaeum one night and I remember Jill Stark was there saying, “Oh John you’re here so much we really should put you on the payroll.”

To this day I don’t think I was ever really offered a job. I just got a letter from Jack Stark saying “Dear John, we want you to start on February 15^th, and your salary will be X… please be here.” And I thought, “Well, they want me!” So I quit my other job and came to Claremont. That was twenty-three years and a week ago.

How long does it take you to learn the names and the people in each incoming class?

It’s hard. I mean, I have two things going against me: one is that I’m getting older and my brain is turning into Jell-O, and the other is that there are just so many more CMCers. Now there are 10,000 alumni and you just can’t keep 10,000 people in your head. But I do think that your generation has an advantage with Facebook, which does let you connect names with faces. I do not know everyone and I do not remember everyone’s names, but I try, and if I fail, please forgive me. Send me a message on Facebook or even better, come up and shake my hand and say hello. And I appreciate that CMCers are so good about that – a firm handshake and a, “Hello my name is X” can take you far in life.

Out of all the CMC events, do you have a favorite?

Yes, my favorite is Orientation. I love getting to meet all the freshmen. I really enjoy getting to say hello to everyone and welcome them, and then as you can imagine, the corollary is that I hate graduation. For even the most organized classes, only 50% will come back for their reunion, so I know that at least half of the class I’ll never see again. I know a lot of people in the class will stay connected, take trips together… but for me, a lot of the time I don’t see them again. Oh, and I do love Reunion Weekend, too! Welcoming everyone back and such.

We sometimes see you around Snack.

So one of the things that happens with Snack… I used to go more often when my office was in Bauer because I would just walk home. Now it’s sort of a long walk… sometimes I’ll stop by when I’m driving home in my car, and since faculty and staff aren’t on a meal plan and we don’t get Snack, to sort of be ethical about it, I never eat or drink anything at Snack. I think I’d have to pay $2.50 or something. Also, for most adults, the kinds of things that are at Snack just aren’t on our diets. I don’t need a donut or churros. So I guess my favorite item at Snack is conversation!

How do you think students have changed since you’ve been a student here?

Well, the co-ed thing was big, but it wasn’t as big as it was for other schools because we had Scripps across the way. I think that the two things that attract CMCers are pretty constant: law, government kind of things and finance, economics. We still see a pretty high proportions of students getting law and masters degrees. Then there are always five or ten physicians and teachers, but many people are interested in the investment banking thing. I do think that CMC students now are better prepared and more directed than we were – they clearly have a huge advantage in having technology on their side. You can finish a paper at 10:50 and hand it in 11:00. When we finished a paper at 10:50, we then had to type it up, which would take hours of typing on a typewriter. Most people actually hired typists to type their senior theses.

Where do you see the future of CMC going?

Well, we definitely have a lot of strategic things on the horizon for the college. There are a lot of good things happening here and now. CMC just continues to get better in moving forward – it’s attractive for students, and it’s attractive for alumni.

No… umm… no. I don’t want to be working here when I’m 76, but I hope that I will… I don’t know. I hope that I’ll still have a relationship with the college and the students. Do you know Goodbye Mr. Chips? It’s a novel about a beloved professor at Oxford who, you know, goes through his life making a difference in people’s lives but it’s told from the point of his retirement. All of the freshman come and have tea with him, one by one, and he talks with them about their lives and what they hope to do, so maybe I’ll have a “Mr. Chips” role at some point in the future. But at 76 I don’t want to be here trying to keep up with you. You’re too energetic.