Alumni

Through the Decades

As part of Spectrum’s ongoing coverage of our sesquicentennial celebration, we asked former Stentor alumni to share a memory or two with us. Many not only found themselves in the thick of the news, they also developed professional skills and a sense of belonging on the newspaper.

We compiled excerpts from some of their stories — one per decade starting with the 1930s — and invite you to read the complete stories or submit your own by visiting www.lakeforest.edu/about/sesq and clicking on Share Your Memories.

1930s

GLENN K. SEIDENFELD ’35  |  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.

1940s

NORMA SOHN LINEBERGER ’47  |  In our very first issue of the Stentor, October 2, as a sign of the times, there was a letter from a young man in Germany named Rainer Brombach. He said he had found a badly damaged copy of the Stentor in some ruins and had saved it because it revealed to him “a world of youth whose existence we never even guessed. We were prevented from looking into the world, from establishing relations with the academic youth of other countries.” He went on, “Now that the way into the world has been opened to us, we are seeking communications and understanding with the studying youth of the world. By means of my pen, my comrades seek to establish relation with the students of Lake Forest College and in that way gain knowledge of the life in American universities. We beg you to help us.”
 
As a result of this letter Lake Forest became active in the campaign to raise funds for the World Student Service Fund, which was formed to help universities all over the world restore their buildings and campuses and to pick up the pieces of culture and education they knew before WWII. 

1950s

JUDY PLUMMER SWAN ’59  |  The late 1950s was a rather bland time at Lake Forest College. Only one of my editorials caused much of a stir; that was my prediction that fraternities and sororities would disappear from the college scene, “Never,” said the jocks, the fraternity presidents, and some of my Alpha Phi sisters. I was right, but for less than a decade…
 
During my years the Stentor was typeset on a linotype and printed on a letterpress by a commercial printer on Western Avenue not too far from The Lantern. Efficiency required I drop off the typewritten copy and then stop for a beer. Drinking age was 18 then.

1960s

DONALD STRASSER ’68  |  The period was tumultuous — the threat of being drafted to Vietnam, race riots in the cities, and injustice and poverty to be found everywhere. I found myself not deeply invested in these important contemporary issues because my own private world was too fraught with anxiety and the feeling of being alone.
 
Despite my personal problems, at the Stentor I learned how to write a lead, use punctuation, and “put the paper to bed.” The tension was high as we dreamed up that last article to fill an empty space. There was always conflict about the subject of the editorial, what the focus of the paper should be, whether there were sufficient facts to merit a story and throughout it all struggles among diverse personalities. Yet the conflict seemed to pale when the paper was finally published and there were feelings of pride when we received the occasional applause.
 
In that small, uncomfortable office, with our mascot, Bezus, a runt-like mutt running about at our feet and illegally hidden on campus, I discovered a spirit and camaraderie unlike any other in my life. Somehow, the pursuit of a common goal, the heated debate and arguments, and the energy of our youth created an environment which was safe and nurturing. What I did not know until much later was that those relationships developed in the Stentor office were just the right mix of ingredients to equip me with skills for the future.

1970s

DAVID H. CLOSE ’76  |  My class started college during the ugly winding down of the Vietnam War. The oil embargo hit hard, driving up costs when the school could ill-afford the extra burden. I followed the unfolding of Watergate for three years of my college career with a mix of disgust, dismay and glee that the Nixon crowd was caught in the act. After the monumental crises of the 1960s, the problems of our time seemed somehow diminished and exhausted — government corruption, defeat in a war, gas lines, inflation…disco. Students seemed to turn inward, and looking back at old issues of the paper you can see that the hot topics of the time were the campus pub, vandalism, sports, the academic schedule and things of that nature.

1980s

CARA JEPSEN ’86  |  The Bears played the Patriots in the Superbowl, which divided the campus, and on Wednesday nights at Scornavacco’s we’d each dance to our team’s song — and boo the other team. Pat Summerall and John Madden did the “All Madden Picks” from South Campus that year.
 
The campus became really polarized when Dean Steve Witter tried to reform room draw and take away the purpose units’ preferential housing. I wrote a parody song to the tune of “The Superbowl Shuffle.” Some students recorded it for the radio station, and it was published in the newspaper.
 
I was eating dinner in Szabo the day the newspaper hit the stands. Suddenly I was surrounded by Phipes pledges. I could not escape as they sang, “Let Me Call you Sweetheart” and then yelled, “You suck!” Members of other Greek organizations harassed my radio station friends, and I was warned to leave a video dance because the Brotherhood was out to get me. I bought a locking gas cap for my car, and didn’t go anywhere without a burly male escort.

1990s

LIZ THOMSON ’96  |  My most vivid memory of working as photo editor for the Stentor was the dark, damp, and sometimes scary basement of Hixon Hall, where the darkroom was located. Remember, this was way before the digital age. While the writers and editors worked in Commons, I was alone with smelly chemicals, sounds from Garrick Players above me, and an alluring orange tinted light. Starting at about 10 p.m. on Sundays and working into early Monday morning, the darkroom was my weekly domain. But I loved seeing the prints develop in the trays, and I don’t think the writers could experience the same process. Often during the winter months, I would be layered from head to toe, only to shed down to a bikini top and shorts.
 
Working in the 1990s, I feel we were on the cusp of the digital age. The office definitely had the latest software and scanner that we needed, but compared to now, I’m sure it seems old. We were still printing the Stentor on recycled white paper and using the College’s Print Shop. It was a big deal when the paper switched to newsprint and printing off-campus. I do remember every year at General Assembly meetings advocating for a digital camera, but we were always denied. At that time, they were so incredibly expensive.

2000s

DAN KOLEN ’07  |  I had seen posters around campus saying Jane Goodall —National Geographic-famous for her seminal research on chimps — was giving a talk at the First Presbyterian Church. I wanted to write a story about the event, so I walked from my room three doors down to Stentor editor Will Pittinos ’06, who was in the midst of planning the fifth issue of the year. I asked him if I could write my second story of my collegiate career about her visit, and he said I could!
  
After I went to the speech, did a brief interview, and got a photo taken with her, the story I would later write made our journalism advisor Fern Chapman glow over the finished product. I stayed on board with the paper, moving up in the editorial ranks, and by the time I graduated, I published more than 60 stories for the newspaper. But still, that second story — and meeting such a famous scholar — allowed me to experience the joy of receiving praise for my work, and the fun of having an extra reason for attending and writing about a compelling, enlightening event.