Celebrating 150 Years  |  Alumni Memories

Glenn K. Seidenfeld '35

Stentor Editor (1930s)

Consider.  A 93 year old member of the graduating class of 1935 at Lake Forest College, attending between his 17th and 21st years, is asked to discuss his perspectives and impressions of that time.

The time period is significant and probably formed a special background.  These were the days following the great economic depression which started in 1929.  Many in the class were “day students” who lived at home and commuted.  We took the old North Shore electric train which, starting in Waukegan, wound through the backyards of the North Shore suburbs to Chicago.

Due to lack of money, disinclination, or lack of invitation, a large group of us were not in the fraternities or sororities around which the social life of the college revolved.  A meeting and “hang out” area, wholly male as I remember, was thoughtfully proved in old College Hall.  We referred to ourselves as the “G-- D---- Independents”.   Some of us attended only the classes; others of us stayed and participated in the activities afforded.

This did not mean that we felt fully accepted.  A recurrent vision is of looking out on the campus from a large window between the landing of College Hall and observing the grouping and conversing of passing students and the memory of a feeling of isolation. 

Probably my strongest and best memories revolve around four years of activity at the Stentor.  Unfortunately, I have no memory of the nature or content of any story or editorial I contributed and no remnant of any paper trail.  I do recall that I was reading Upton Sinclair and his exposés and Lincoln Steffen’s “Shaming of the Big Cities”, debating the effect of the big grocery chain, such as A&P, on small business, the dangers posed by arms merchants, peace and disarmament.

One of my friends introduced me to “Bug House Square”, a park near the North edge of the Loop in Chicago devoted to furnishing a forum for anyone standing on a soap-box to orate on the problems of the day, multiplied by the poverty and joblessness attendant to the depression.  How much of this reflected in our stories is doubtful.

I do retain the feeling that we left too much unsaid and unreported and said some things which should not have been said.

One deeply retained memory is of Stentors put to bed at the Highland Park Press, lead print encased in a wooden form, ready to be inked and placed in the printing press, carefully checked for evidence of unprintable “filler” playfully inserted by veteran pressmen and a feeling of accomplishment.