Willie, Class of '20

Wm.

June 19

One of my goals for this summer is to finally, finally, empty the storage unit I've kept since shortly after clearing out the contents of my parents' townhouse nine summers ago. It will require, among other things, parting with a few pieces of furniture I've known my whole life. This goes against my packrat mentality, but time marches on, I've done without being around this stuff for quite a while, etc., etc., etc.

These efforts also entail doing a(nother) deep dive into photographs and mementos that Mom and Dad hung onto from their parents, and even their parents' parents. Culling there will be a much tougher task, as it should be. I need judgment regarding what still has meaning, or is really nice, or has a bit of value--am I really up to that task? I sure hope so.

On Monday I started looking in one of three large bins containing items from my father's side of the family, the one that's almost exclusively pictures and portraits. There won't be much getting tossed from this one, though I plan to share duplicates with my sister. I've dug into this bin before, to find photos for a couple of previous posts, about Dad's early life and my grandparents' work-related travels in the 1920s. So I had previously seen this group photo that included William Thomas Goebel Harris (Willie henceforth), hanging out on the steps of a renowned Greek Revival building near downtown Lexington.

That's Old Morrison, still standing and now the administration building on the campus of Transylvania University, which my grandfather attended for two years. Willie is in the back row, the very short fellow fourth from the right. He had been born in late August 1897 and didn't graduate from Warsaw High School until he was almost nineteen years old, in May 1916. That fall he matriculated at Transy; he would leave after his sophomore year--the story I got from Dad was that family finances were the reason.

There's a lot to catch the eye in the picture--some of the looks and poses, the fashions of the day, the decent percentage of women in the photo, given the era--but perhaps the most prominent feature is the mix of formality and informality between foreground and background. Just what is the occasion, and what are those people at the top of the steps doing in the picture?

I've found out, at least partially. As it happened, I had been planning to Transy this week or next. With picture in tow, I dropped by the Alumni/Development Office yesterday. I was handed yearbooks from 1917 and 1918, and spent several minutes searching for mention of W. T. G. Harris (men's names were presented in this style throughout). I didn't see his name very often--I need to go back and search more carefully someday--but I did find the above photo: it's the sophomore class picture in the 1918 yearbook, though with the onlookers at the top of the steps cropped out. I'm kicking myself right now for not looking at the other class photos, as my guess is that those were to be the subjects in the next picture taken, perhaps the freshman class. Kudos to the photographer for knowing their presence didn't matter.

I next went to the library to check if the Special Collections librarian would be interested in seeing what I had, but alas, she was unavailable. I left my name and email address, and the student worker took a picture of my photo to pass along. We'll see if anything comes of it.

Finally, I walked over to the scene of the crime and took a few pictures, of which I share two. The first compares now with then.

I climbed the steps to my best guess for Willie's location in the picture and tried to imagine what he might have been gazing upon as he stood there. I have to believe that Gratz Park, located on the other side of Third Street beyond the parking circle, was there 106+ years ago, but other than that...

I'm not aware of any friends or connections that my grandfather maintained from his time at Transy (but then again, why would I?). I do look at the men and women in the picture though and wonder what their futures, now wholly in the past, held. I suppose it's not completely impossible that someone there is an ancestor/relative of someone I knew at college.

It would be a while before Willie took up his own schooling again, even as he embarked on a career in public education in the early 20s. In 1924, he would obtain a Bachelors degree, majoring in education and mathematics, from the University of Kentucky via summer and correspondence courses. Seven years later, right around the time my father was born, he got his Masters degree in physics, also from UK. He would serve in the roles of teacher, principal, and superintendent at various times across forty years. I certainly wish I'd met him.

The news broke last evening that another Willie had passed away yesterday at the age of 93. Fifty days older than my father, Willie Mays was one of Dad's favorite players as they both advanced through their 20s and 30s--Dad liked him more than he did Mickey Mantle (and he liked Mantle plenty), and lots more than he did Duke Snider.

I don't believe I ever attended a game in which Mays played. I'm a little surprised at how sad I feel about Mays's passing, but I'm thinking it may be because it's one more connection in my head to my father that's now gone.