Edward Wolfe

Edward Wolfe

“President Robinson Nodded”: Edward Wolfe (1959) Remembers Being Hired and the Faculty in the Social Studies Department -- Memory #7 of 100 

 

Today’s Project 100 entry is from Edward Wolfe, a long-time member of the English faculty. He is the only staff person included from outside of the History Department. I chose to interview him for several reasons. First and foremost, he began in 1959 and carries memories of faculty from the Social Studies Department that few others can match.  Second, at age 95, he remains sharp, and his memory is remarkable.  Third, I am confident that a number of history and social studies majors had him as a professor for either Composition or a literature class and will enjoy reading about him.

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Edward Wolfe was born in 1927 in Barrington, New Jersey, and grew up in Haddon Heights.  His father and mother were both born in 1887, and they were married in 1909.  Ed was the youngest of seven children, a surprise child he thinks as his parents were both 40 at the time.  Neither of his parents had much formal schooling.  His father graduated from 8th grade, and his mother only completed 6th grade, due to a bout of small pox and the death of her own mother when she was only 9.  Ed’s father worked for a sheet metal company called Berger Brothers in Philadelphia.  While he began with a lowly office position, his father worked his way quite high up in the business eventually.  Ed’s father, however, died of cancer at the age of only 42 when Ed was just two years old.  Ed went to public school in Haddon Heights and graduated in 1946.  He then went into the Army in order to get the GI Bill and be able to go to college.  None of his siblings went to college.  Two of his brothers were drafted, served during World War II and fought in the Pacific.  One of his brothers died in this fighting.  While Ed only served in the Army for 18 months, he said the experience, as a guard in Italy, was a life-changing one for him.  When he left the military, he joined the Reserves and soon began studying at the Gettysburg College.  While he got a great education there, he transferred to the University of Pennsylvania to study English literature, inspired by the faculty members whose work he read in magazines.  Soon after starting at Penn, however, the Korean War began, and Ed was soon called to serve in the military.  Before he reported, he and his girlfriend, a classmate from high school in Haddon Heights named Jean Reeves, decided to get married, doing so on November 2, 1950.  By coincidence and circumstance, he ended up being sent to Intelligence training instead of to Korea. In October of 1951, he was discharged from the Army, never having set foot in Asia.  He then returned to Haddon Heights but not to full-time study at Penn because married men, at the time, were often expected to work.   He got a job at Dun and Bradstreet, a corporation that investigated and then certified the credit-worthiness of a wide range of businesses, from a local hardware store to General Motors.  But after balancing work and part-time study at Penn’s evening program in General Studies, he decided to return to full-time study at the University.  Jean had given him her whole-hearted support for his decision.  He did well academically and soon earned his Bachelor’s degree.  He was encouraged to apply for a University Fellowship.  He applied and was granted the fellowship.  After a year and a summer of intense study, he finished a Master’s degree in 1955.  He began searching for a job as a college English teacher.  He applied and was offered employment as Instructor in English at Cedar Crest College in Allentown, Pennsylvania.  Motivated by memories of excellent teaching by professors with only Master of Arts degrees at Gettysburg College, he looked forward to years of teaching with his MA.  It soon became apparent to Ed that times had changed.  He would not be able to make a career of college teaching without a doctorate.  He resumed graduate study on Saturday mornings at the University of Pennsylvania.  While teaching at Cedar Crest and traveling to Penn, he began looking for jobs nearer good graduate schools.  He searched and searched until a job opened up at Penn.  It was as Assistant Director of Scholarships and Student Aid.  It offered a salary a bit more than he earned at Cedar Crest, time off to attend graduate classes and free tuition.  He applied for the job and was selected.  He was asked, from time to time, to make recruiting visits to private schools in the area but was given the opportunity to teach English Composition to evening students.  After finishing his doctoral course work, he began looking for a new faculty position and Glassboro State College advertised a position.  Ed went on to serve as a professor of English literature at Glassboro State and Rowan for over three decades, and he had an enormous influence on those social studies and history alumni who came across him, both in and out of the classroom.  In the early days of the College, he also interacted with many social studies faculty.  In the following memory, he remembers various professors who have long since passed, providing a connection to an era soon to pass out of living memory.  The memories below were culled from several different interviews in the first half of 2023.

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I finished my doctoral course work in the summer of 1959 and began preparing for my “preliminary” examinations.  Even before I had finished my last class, however, I began looking for a faculty position.  Glassboro State College advertised that they were hiring, and I applied.  I knew of the College as a couple of my high school classmates had attended.  I received a phone call inviting me to come to campus for an interview in the Spring of 1959.  I drove to Glassboro, which had many fewer buildings than today.  There were a couple of dormitories, Hollybush, College Hall (later Bunce Hall), and an elementary school that was used for training teachers.  My interview took place in Hollybush and included President Thomas Robinson and James Mackenzie, chair of the English Department.  We had an interesting discussion about my work at Dun & Bradstreet, my time at Penn, and my teaching at Cedar Crest College.  My socialism did not come up as a topic.  As I left the interview, James Mackenzie told me that I was hired.  I asked how he knew.  He said that President Robinson nodded.

Thomas Robinson was a very caring person of the old school.  I remember a conversation with him when he joined several of us eating lunch in the basement of College Hall.  He was upset that the State of New Jersey had refused to increase its allotment to the College. As a result, he noted that the College would have to increase the annual tuition charge from $450 to $500.  He believed that this $50 would mean that some students would be unable to attend college as a result. 

Academic departments at Glassboro State College did not really exist in the early 1960s.  For example, I was assigned an office with two education faculty members.  Many faculty were in the very large “Education” Department.  However, there was a Social Studies Department, and I did come to know several faculty who taught history, government, and geography. 

Harold Wilson was one of the faculty members that I remember.  He possessed a doctorate from Harvard University and was one of the academic cornerstones of early Glassboro State.  He had a great sense of humor.  I didn’t spend very much with Dr. Wilson, but he did invite me to his house on one occasion.  I discovered that he was pleased to host Jean and me and to get to know us a bit.  However, I discovered his true purpose was to solicit a letter of recommendation for his son who was applying for the top-ranked University of Pennsylvania medical school.  He had learned that I had worked in Penn’s Scholarships and Student Aid Office, and he figured that my letter could not hurt, even if I had never met his son.  I composed the letter but don’t remember what happened to his son.  [Editor:  I later discovered that Dr. Wilson’s son did get accepted and became a cardiologist.] 

Another social studies professor that I knew even better was Maurice (or Maury) Blanken who taught courses in political science and government.  He was a political liberal, so we shared some similar aspirations.  As I was a committed socialist, however, his views did not go quite far enough.  In the Fall of 1960, I remember Maury organized a debate on the merits of the various presidential candidates.  Nathan Carb spoke on behalf of Richard Nixon and the Republicans, and I think Maury spoke on behalf of John Kennedy and the Democrats. I enjoyed the debate, though I supported the socialist candidate, Eric Haas.

While I had put my dissertation on pause, Maury was actively working on his dissertation.  He asked me to read a draft and to make suggestions.  Maury was a good colleague but not a good writer.  I spent quite a bit of time reading the draft and suggesting revisions, notably items to amplify and bits to cut.  He was very thankful for my editing, but he sadly never did complete his dissertation for reasons that I don’t know.  In 1963, Maury invited me to join him to attend a 90th birthday party for Harry F. Ward, the Methodist minister, social activist, and cofounder of the American Civil Liberties Union.  Blanken knew Ward because one of the groups Ward helped found, the Methodist Federation for Social Service, was the subject of his dissertation.  The birthday celebration was held in Carnegie Hall and was attended by all manner of dignitaries and politicians.  Many people spoke and praised his accomplishments, and I remember the reading of a celebratory telegram from the First Prime Minister of independent India, Jawaharlal Nehru.  What really stood out to me, however, was when Ward stepped to the podium.  His speech, at age 90, was dazzling.  He began by noting that he had heard quite enough about the past and now wanted to discuss the future.  He thundered against the growth of inequality and called for action and change on behalf of the disadvantaged. 

Marius Livingston was a very interesting person.  He arrived on campus three or four years after I arrived, during a period of growth for the Social Studies Department.  He lived in Pitman.  His daughter was a close friend of my daughter, Claudia.  They played together and went to school together.  His wife and Jean became friends as well.  Marius and I became relatively close friends.  Our two families had planned to go to a World’s Fair in New York.  Marius had a large station wagon to take the four of us and our two daughters, leaving our young boys at home with babysitters.  Marius, however, called early in the morning of the trip, and he told me that the trip was off because someone had driven by his car while he had the door open and took the door clear off.  We could not travel to New York without a door.  We celebrated numerous holidays together.

Marius was the driving force behind Operation Uganda.  In my memory, he was the originator of the idea that we would collect books, desks, and other equipment for donation to that soon-to-be independent country.  An enormous number of people and groups contributed books, money, and other items for the project over a long period.  The movie theater in Glassboro was one of the main collection points.  I remember going through the books and selecting a few myself.  I asked him lots of questions about the logistics of transporting the books and other items to Uganda.  He was just so enthusiastic that he was confident that “it would be figured it out.”  There was a major celebration on campus with politicians and the Ambassador Designate to the United States from Uganda.  I remember that our local Congressman, John E. Hunt, was involved, but I had very little respect for him, as he was semi-literate, ungrammatical, and overly self-confident.  Meanwhile, the Ambassador Designate was very well-educated and spoke as clearly and as powerfully as Winston Churchill.  The contrast between them was stark and not in our favor.  The celebration was well-attended by local academicians and by local politicians, including state legislators and state senators.

Marius had a good reputation as a lively teacher as well as being a very active organizer of campus events.  Marius was very young, to my mind, when he contracted cancer of the stomach.  Marius had a certain kind of confidence.  Initially, he was very optimistic about his chances to beat the cancer.  Sadly, his good attitude could not hold off cancer.  It was a devastating event for his family.  His wife remained in Pitman for a period of time I believe, but I can’t remember any details.  Jean would have been more likely to remain in contact.

Jesse C. Kennedy was in the History or Social Studies Department.  I don’t know why he left the College, but he was very smart, very knowledgeable, and had a good reputation among the students.  Students told me that his courses were interesting, and they clearly enjoyed attending class.  In faculty meetings, he was someone to whom everyone, including myself, listened.  [Editor:  I later found out that Dr. Kennedy left GSC to work for the United States government in Korea.] 

I didn’t know Bob Hewsen as well as Marius.  He arrived a few years after Marius I think.  I don’t think Bob lived locally, but we had numerous conversations over the years, as he was very easy to talk to at lunch.  He was what I call a “catastrophist,” meaning that the history of the world was shaped by a series of sudden, violent events.  History was a cycle of collapse, recovery, collapse, and so on.  It was initially a theory of geologists, but historians like Bob adapted the idea to their work.  He had a meeting of like-minded thinkers on campus.  He was a self-confident, well-spoken individual, though I had a hard time believing there were still so many catastrophists in the academy.  He was a political liberal and voted for Democrats.  Like Marius, he also had a reputation as a good teacher, a good storyteller.

Aaron Bender came after Marius, maybe around the same time as Bob.  We didn’t argue about politics as he was a political liberal.  We did often share our grievances about the state of the world.  I never heard any complaints about his teaching, and I believe he had a good reputation in the classroom.  We didn’t socialize to the degree that I did with Marius, even though he may have lived in the general area.  By the time that Aaron and Bob came along, the faculty was growing to the extent that I didn’t interact as much with those outside of the English Department and the Union.

Mary Taney was another good teacher from the Social Studies Department.  I knew her best through the Union, as we were both representatives of our departments.  I saw her at union meetings frequently.  I think she was also in the Senate when I was in the Senate.  She was fascinating because she had been a nun but left the order.  I believe that her husband was a priest who left the priesthood.  I remember that she was a pretty good tennis player.  We were close to the same age as I recall.  After she retired, she finally got her book published.  I remember her telling me that her husband’s Latin was a bit better than hers, so he was critical in her scholarly work.  After he died, she stopped coming to the retiree’s meetings.  She claimed that she stopped coming as it interfered with her tennis.  One of the last times that I saw her was at a party hosted by Larry DePasquale of the music department.  It was clear that she was developing something like Alzheimer’s at the time.  It was a sad last meeting that was not typical of our interactions over the years.  I learned later that she had moved into a retirement home.  I visited her in this home on two occasions, but she did not seem to remember who I was.

Dick Porterfield and I often ate lunch.  I think he was working on his doctorate from Penn. As a specialist in English history, he and I had much to discuss.  Morse Peckham’s classes had given me a foundation in history that allowed our conversations to be quite interesting. 

As the College grew, I tended to have interactions with individuals in other Departments only if they became active in campus politics or the Union.  Thus, I did not have as much close contact with other social studies and history faculty. I knew of folks like David Applebaum, Gary Hunter, and Lee Kress, but we didn’t have the same connections as I had with the others.

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This is part of the Department of History’s “Project 100,” the collection and sharing of one hundred memories by Glassboro State College and Rowan University alumni and staff in celebration of the 100th anniversary of the founding of Glassboro Normal School, later Glassboro State College, and now Rowan University.