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Frederick Jackson Turner and Logan's "National Summer School," 1924
Utah Historical Quarterly
Vol. 37, 1969, No. 3
Frederick Jackson Turner and Logan's "National Summer School," 1924
BY RAY A. BILLINGTON
NOTHING LESS GRANDIOSE — or financially rewarding — than Utah Agricultural College's "National Summer School" could have lured Frederick Jackson Turner back into the classroom that summer of 1924. He had retired from his Harvard University professorship that June, two years before the required age of sixty-five, for only one purpose: to finish the book on sectionalism over which he had labored for nearly a quartercentury. For a perfectionist this was a difficult task, for he must appraise the role of sections in the political, economic, and cultural life of the United States between 1830 and 1850, and this involved massive amounts of reading in every conceivable source. Time for this could not be found so long as he was burdened with classes, graduate students, department meetings, and the countless time-wasting duties peripheral to teaching. But once he was free of these obligations, THE BOOK (as Turner's friends were calling it) would be completed in no time and others would follow, including the textbooks that he desperately wanted to write to cushion his old age with adequate income.
Nothing must interfere. But the National Summer School was compellingly alluring. This was the brainchild of Utah Agricultural College's dynamic young president, Dr. Elmer George Peterson. His school, the school from which he had graduated in 1904 and where he had spent his entire teaching and administrative career, was performing adequately as a "people's college," dispensing practical information to local students on farming, home economics, manual arts, and after 1921 teacher training. But Utah — and the West — deserved something more; something that would attract the nation's attention to the beauty of its countryside and the virtues of its people; something that would bring its Mormon population more closely in touch with a world of culture that still looked faintly askance at members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. How could this be accomplished?
The answer probably came to President Peterson one fine summer morning as he walked about his attractive campus on "The Hill" high above Logan. Spread before him was the lush Cache Valley, a mosaic of rich farms fringed by the snow-tipped peaks of the Wasatch Mountains. The air was cool and fresh at that elevation of 4,500 feet; the nearby mountains offered an ideal vacationland with canyons to explore, lakes to visit, and trout streams to lure the angler. Great Salt Lake was less than an hour's drive away, and only forty miles to the east was Bear Lake which had been aptly called the Lake Geneva of the Rockies. A mile below him President Peterson could see the orderly city of Logan, known for its ten thousand "thrifty and progressive" citizens who were eager to support any cultural enterprise. Here, in other words, was an ideal setting for a summer school. Why not attract a dozen eminent teachers from throughout the nation by promises of an ideal climate and unusually generous salaries? Their presence, and the attractions of Cache Valley, would lure students from all over the United States. Utah Agricultural College would become nationally known; returning students would spread word of Utah's loveliness everywhere; and Utah's cultural progress would be accelerated by contact with both students and faculty attracted there. The whole West would benefit.
This was President Peterson's vision, and he possessed the energy to translate it into reality. Recruiting an eminent faculty came first, for they would attract the students. High on the list of those he wanted was Professor Turner, nationally famed as the propounder of the frontier thesis then so in vogue, former president of the American Historical Association, leading interpreter of the American past. The head of the college's History Department, Professor Joel E. Ricks, who had earned his Master of Arts degree at the University of Chicago where he came in contact with many of Turner's friends, undoubtedly supported this choice with enthusiasm, for he was a devoted admirer of Turner's work and later became a staunch friend. Together, President Peterson and Professor Ricks plotted how to land this man above all other historians. The skill that President Peterson revealed explains his ability to gather the outstanding faculty that staffed the first National Summer School.
He cast his net when in late 1922 he formally invited Turner to serve as a visiting professor, and indicated that he was willing to adjust the salary and teaching load in any reasonable manner to make them attractive. Turner's conscience bothered him when he expressed interest, but he was susceptible at that moment to any mention of a generous sum. With retirement his salary of $9,000 at Harvard and Radcliffe colleges would shrink to the $3,000 annuity paid former professors; to this he could only add $170.00 a year from interest on Liberty Bonds purchased during World War I, $200.00 rental from stores in Madison, Wisconsin, inherited by his wife, and about $100.00 from royalties on his two books Rise of the New West, 1819-1829 and the Guide to the Study and Reading of American History prepared with Edward Channing and Albert Bushnell Hart. He could also rent his summer home, The Moorings, at Hancock Point, Maine, for about $300.00 a season when it was not occupied by the family. This small income meant drastic belt-tightening for the Turners, and the prospect of a sizeable summer-school salary was alluring. But should he sacrifice precious weeks that should go into work on THE BOOK?
His reply to President Peterson revealed his doubts, but also suggested that if the inducements were strong enough the scales would tip in Utah's favor. Could he teach for a shorter period than the six weeks suggested? And how substantial was the salary? President Peterson rose to this bait with alacrity. If Turner wanted to reach Logan a week or even two weeks after the beginning of the term there would be no objections; his classes would begin when he reached there. As for salary, the college would pay expenses of $250.00 or $300.00, plus one-sixth of Turner's Harvard salary, which was assumed to be $6,000 or $7,000. If this were unsatisfactory, other adjustments could be made. "I am," added President Peterson persuasively, "extremely reluctant to consider our plans finally without having you included in the faculty. If the summer school assumes only western significance, and I hope it will appeal throughout the nation, it urgently needs your assistance."
Turner was strongly tempted; he filled the back of President Peterson's letter with penciled cipherings in which he calculated the dollar value of one-sixth of his Harvard salary alone, one-sixth of his combined Harvard-Radcliffe salary of $9,000, and the satisfactory sums that emerged when these were added to expense budgets of $250.00 and $300.00. But in the end conscience prevailed, and off went a telegram: "Regret cannot accept although terms most liberal." President Peterson was not willing to surrender. A telegram flashed back from Logan at once: "Very reluctant to organize work without you." Would Turner consider coming for only three weeks, nominating another competent person in western history to complete his course? Once more Turner's pencil was brought into play. One-sixth of $8,000 would be $1,333; one-half of this $666.00. Add the $300.00 expense allowance and the total reached $966.00 — or $1,000 in round figures. This was too profitable to resist. The telegram that he sent was to the point: he would come for three weeks for $1,000 and offer two courses, one on "Aspects of the Westward Movement," the other on "The United States, 1830- 1850, a Study of Sections."
The letter that inevitably follows all telegrams confirmed this decision and suggested that his successor for the second three weeks of the session be Professor Frederick Merk, who was taking his place on the Harvard faculty. Professor Merk, he assured the president, was a good lecturer and a pleasant companion, already skilled in the classroom where he regularly presented half of the introductory course in American history, a course on the institutional and constitutional history of the United States, and the second half of Turner's own course on the history of the West. He was also engaged in important research on the history of Oregon. Turner had spoken to Professor Merk, who seemed favorably inclined to accept an offer.
The fish was in the landing net now, and only final arrangements were necessary. Professor Joel Ricks volunteered to take care of ordering the library books that would doubtless be required. Housing was quickly arranged, for Mrs. Turner would have to stay in Cambridge to supervise closing their house there and dividing their belongings between their Maine summer home and storage. Turner was assigned a bachelor apartment in a recently renovated dormitory at $35.00 a month, and could obtain fine meals cooked by the Home Economics Department for only $14.00 a week at a nearby college dining hall. He was doubtless cheered by these low prices, as he was by news from a travel agent that the summer-rate round-trip fare from Boston to Salt Lake City and return was only $118.16. His expense funds would cover his living nicely. Nor was he discouraged when President Peterson discovered his passion for trout fishing and warned him that "Good roads and automobiles have carried fishermen to most of our previously sequestered streams and thus accent the necessity of the finer points of the art." To a skilled angler this was only a challenge, and Turner spent moments that spring dreaming of his battles with the finned five-pounders in the Logan River.
The adroit techniques used by President Peterson to persuade Turner to join his faculty were used again and again, until he had assembled a notable group of teachers. The list printed in the summer school catalogue read like a Who's Who of the academic world: Professor Eliot Blackwelder of Stanford University in geology, Professor Henry C. Cowles of the University of Chicago in ecology, Professor E. C. Branson of the University of North Carolina in rural economics, Professor E. V. McCollum of Johns Hopkins School of Hygiene and Public Health in biochemistry, E. L. Thorndike of Columbia University's Teachers' College in educational psychology, and a half-dozen more. In addition another brilliant galaxy of lecturers was recruited to present a special series twice daily, including such well-known figures as President David Starr Jordan of Stanford University, Professor John Adams of London, Professor Shaler Matthews of the University of Chicago, and Dr. A. E. Winship, editor of the Journal of Education. Perhaps this was not quite "the most eminent faculty ever assembled in the West or indeed, in the nation," as the college catalogue proclaimed it to be, but the president of the Board of Trustees had some justification when he contended that "the national summer school to be held at the college during the coming summer is the greatest educational event of its kind ever held in America."
As Turner dreamed of Utah's trout streams, gave his final lectures, and endured the round of laudatory exercises inevitable upon retirement, Logan busily prepared to receive him and his distinguished colleagues. Housing was a major concern, for no town of ten thousand could absorb a thousand visitors without some readjustment. The college assumed part of the burden, setting aside a portion of the campus where students who wished to pitch tents could be supplied with water and electricity. Logan followed suit by designating one of its park five miles from the campus as a camping ground where the rugged could enjoy a real vacation. For those who demanded less primitive quarters, the Chamber of Commerce created a Special Housing Committee to canvass the city for rooms and to operate a central rooming bureau in offices donated by the Cache Valley Electric Company. The townspeople responded so wholeheartedly that even the best homes offered to take in students, to the surprised delight of the college authorities.
This was not enough, for no one could predict the number of students who would be attracted from throughout the nation, and the local citizenry must enroll for courses to assure financial success for the National Summer School. This was the message trumpeted regularly by the press. Housewives were assured that the special lecture series provided an unparalleled opportunity to hear "the most illustrious offerings of its kind ever attempted in the west," and that the modest price of $12.50 for a series ticket meant that they could hear "some of the greatest platform lecturers the entire country offers for less that 25 cents a lecture." Teachers were warned that such opportunities for selfimprovement came rarely, and told that they must enroll to a man. These veiled hints were given weight by those who signed the appeals; they included the presidents of the Logan and Cache Valley stakes, the heads of the state and local farm bureaus, the leaders of the Rotary and Kiwanis clubs, the presidents of the Chamber of Commerce and Board of Education, and the principals and superintendents of schools. Joining the National Summer School was clearly not only a cultural necessity but a duty to city, state, and church.
In this pre-session publicity, Turner received his fair share of accolades. To the editor of the newspaper he was "the great historian of Harvard," who had "no peer in the field of history as related to western America. His book on 'The Rise of the New West' is a profound contribution to American thought." Reporters inevitably transformed him into the "head of the history department at Harvard," a post that he never held and studiously avoided. Others sought to inject glamour into his offerings, pointing out that no more fitting course than that on the history of the West could be given "during the centenary year of the discovery of the Great Salt Lake by [Jim] Bridger." Such a course, readers of the local newspaper were told, "will make us prouder than ever of our western country and give us a better understanding of the forces that have produced it."
Those who succumbed to such propaganda under the illusion that they would hear of glamorous cowboys and Indians were doomed to disappointment. Turner's History 151 A, "Aspects of the Westward Movement in American History," was directed toward a serious study of frontiers and sections, as the description in the catalogue indicated:
The second course promised even weightier fare:
The intellectual exercises promised by these catalogue announcements contrasted strangely with the practical subjects that inevitably bulked large in the offerings of a "people's college." Students could also enroll in courses on Irrigation and Drainage Practice, Housebuilding and Cabinet Making, A Mother Course in Play, Elementary Folk Dancing, and Cheddar Cheese Making.
Despite the well-stocked cafeteria of learning promised in these announcements, administrators waited with fingers-crossed apprehension for the students to arrive, for no one knew whether a few hundred or more than a thousand would appear. Registration started slowly on June 6, but was gaining momentum by Monday, June 9, when classes were scheduled to begin. President Peterson felt justified in issuing an optimistic statement that night, with figures approaching 900. "We expect," he said, "that our estimates in attendance will be fully realized. From 700 to 800 students will make a success of the school this year. It seems that such a number will be on hand. Limited numbers, fully up to our expectations, have already arrived from various parts of the country." The next few days fully justified President Peterson's sanguine views; by the end of the first week of classes total enrollment reached 1,240, of whom 1,120 were full-time credit students.
special brand of hospitality that they could never experience in the East. Their hosts, said he, had been reared in a West "that is not fully tamed, not yet antiquated with traditions," that had instilled in them "a spirit of brotherhood and friendship." In this spirit all new Aggies were welcomed to the campus by all old Aggies.
One who warmed to this spirit at once was Professor Turner. He began his trip west on July 1, when he boarded the Boston and Albany Railroad's crack train, "The Wolverine," at 2:30 in the afternoon, and settled into the relative comfort of a lower berth. Less than three hours later he was writing the first of a series of almost-daily letters to his adored wife, Caroline Mae Sherwood Turner, or "Darling Little Mae" as he often addressed her.
Berkshires — June 1 '24
I am a to-be-pitied person!
1. had to leave my wife behind 2. she gave me a key and told me to lock my grip 3. I did — and the key won't unlock it! 4. I shall have to greet Breese and Dorothy with a flowing white beard! I have gone through the porter's keys. I have tried to break the lock It is in vain
Also I shan't be able to comb my hair or read anything. But the sunset over the Berkshires is lovely & the apple blossoms are still in evidence and perhaps I can buy a safety razor at Albany in the 10 minutes stop. Country very green and fresh. Rather warmish car. Storm windows on. I hated to leave you to the movers. Don't overdo. And cheer me up with little letters when you aren't rushed. I had maccaroni and ginger ale for supper — also a half cantaloupe which wasn't bad. Perhaps I can get a key and shave in Chicago, or cut a slit in the bag, or use my pen knife. But I want my wife along to soothe my feelings.
Love & Kisses
New York Central Lines En Route 9 A.M. June 2 '24
Dearest wife,
I did it! I pried the blamed bag open enough, by bending the frame to pilfer it of my razor, tooth brush &c, out of dressing case (which was strapped and buckled!) and now I am washed and shaven and toothed, and I feel like an A 1 burglar, and don't care whether I have keys or not! So my efficient wife is forgiven.
Slept well, had the usual breakfast, and am just leaving Detroit on time. I shall mail at Chicago. . . . It is overcast outside with showers predicted, but comfortable. I am already lonesome; but am rested. Please don't overdo.
Love Fred
The train reached Chicago at 3:00 that afternoon, and Turner hurried away for two important calls. One was to visit his sister, Ellen Breese Turner DeMoe who lived with her husband in suburban Evanston. The other required a brief train journey northward to Madison, Wisconsin, where he planned two whirlwind days of business and pleasure. The pleasure he found in the company of his daughter, Dorothy Turner Main, her husband John Main who was a local real-estate broker, and his three grandchildren. The business was almost as exciting. The Turners were moving to Madison that winter, and a house must be built to receive them. So hours were spent with a contractor, more hours with his son-in-law discussing finances, more hours pouring over plans. Before Turner left Madison a contract had been signed for a small bungalow, to be built next to the home that his daughter and her husband were to build. The cost was heavier than anticipated — $7,000 — but by adroit management of household expenses, the sale of a few securities, and borrowing against insurance policies they could manage.
Business concluded, the last good-byes said, Turner returned to Chicago to resume his journey westward. He reached Logan on Sunday, June 8, and settled into a life that proved to be unbelievably pleasant. His letters to his wife mirror the delights that he experienced amidst the Mormon people whom he had always respected but never known:
Utah Agricultural College Plant Industry Building — 3d floor Logan, Utah Sunday, June 8, 1924
Darling:
Here I am in an apartaient of two bedrooms, bath room, and living room, windows to north, with a view of snow topped mountains on every side, 4 or 5000 feet elevation — which I only feel slightly. I slept well, though tired, after the journey. It has been cold and showerey all the way from Chicago. I was met with automobile and motored in from Ogden, about a two hour ride past the Salt Lake, over concrete roads that put Mass. state roads to shame; past little Mormon villages, like New England towns, with tabernacles in the center of the towns, into valleys flanked by smiling green fields, running into browns and greys and blues, and silvery snow filled gulches, golden rocks, and misty curtains of haze which made it all dream-like and exquisite. It is more beautiful than Mrs. Rosenberry said it was. We had a snow flurry and I rejoiced in my overcoat. We feasted on fresh picked cherries bought from Mormon children at the road side, and I was introduced to the real fisherman, an interesting Swiss named Hurti, who tells me that right in Logan he can put me in touch with trout that average from 1/2 to a pound and run as high as 4 to 6 pounds in a neighboring canyon. Season opens next Sunday. We shall see! But I wish Gray could be with me to show them how to cast a fly in these heavenly surroundings. How I wish I had made you come with me!
I am "very well received" — was taken at once to the President's office where I was ushered in to the assembled faculty and introduced. The Professor of History, Joel Ricks, is a Chicago graduate — a Mormon — I suppose and he is more than helpful and cordial — a big fine looking young fellow. President Peterson takes me with him this afternoon to the Mormon "quarterly meeting", so I shall have a chance to become a real follower of B[righam] Y[oung].
The Home Economics Building furnishes meals — and perfect ones. I have just breakfasted. We have the cream, not to speak of the butter, of the college dairy, waited on by senior girls, and presided over by Dr. Dozzier, a California woman who is Dean of the department. So far the table consists of Professor & Mrs. Reed (farm machinery) and a little girl of Betsey's age, but rather quieter table manners; Professor Shearer, a girl from California, once a student of mine in Wisconsin (though I didn't recall her!) , She is [a] kindergartner expert—-I had denounced the kindergarten before I realized that! but she took it meekly and cheerfully, and I said I was open to conversion and she said she had her own doubts about kindergartens herself!
Professor Wood & his wife from Columbia went to the hotel. Both are ardent fly fishermen. She is very frail looking, and he looks husky but is tubercular and has to go to the Colorado or Utah region every year. These are the only visitors I have met — except Professor of Bio-Chemistry, from Johns Hopkins, McCollom, whom I merely met. He looks rather serious.
My 3 express pieces with lecture notes & slides are in my rooms. My trunk is to be delivered tomorrow, and tomorrow I start in to lecture. They are expecting more of me than I can deliver!
I wrote you about the bungalow. I forgot to ask Conway whether it would cost too much to have the rafters show in living & dining room, with lath & plaster between — say half way up. I suspect such construction would be costly and doubtfully secure. But I asked Dorothy to enquire of Conway. . . .
How odd it is to be building a house in Madison when you are in Maine and I in Utah! The bungalows seem to be the prevailing style in many of the pretty suburbs I saw in going out of Chicago, and in Ogden. I saw none so "cunning" as the Fisherman's cottage. . . ,
I have drawn a check for $20.00 to John for cash at Madison, and I arrive here with about $60 in pocket. Apartment is $35.00 a month. I don't know yet what meals will cost, but I suppose not over $21 a week — say 65 for the stay, so I shall probably check for 100 to 150 more — outside of about $50 for sleeper & side trip to Madison to see how the family and the bungalow have gotten on. . . .
Tell the Allinson's that Athens of the violet crown and purest atmosphere has nothing on Logan, Utah. Give Gertrude my greetings and tell her how brave she is. Tell Harry that his ossified fish would look like a minnie by the side of those I shall be casting for next week, and tell Jordan to take good care of the best little woman in Hancock Point. Give my best to Charles & Clare, but don't auto with Clare until I come back and give her a license.
I must unpack my notes!
Love & kisses Fred
Agricultural College of Utah Logan, Utah June 9, 1924
Dearest:
I have just finished my first two lectures — large classes — big room filled but I think it will fall off after today. I wasn't at my best — getting adjusted to the change I suppose. Yesterday afternoon I went with President Peterson to the Mormon tabernacle, "quarterly meeting" of the Cache Valley people. I was put on the Platform under the huge, good organ, with one of the 12 apostles at my side, and all sorts of bishops and elders. Services very interesting until I was invited to speak to the assembly! I crawled out of it, by admitting fatigue after a long journey, but they say that [they] will call again! The singing and organ beat anything I ever heard from a church in the East. The faces were really fine old spiritual faces in most of the congregation. The speaking was characteristic combination of practical advice and spiritual exhortation, filled with common sense, but fundamental to the last degree. The apostle (Mr. Richards) rehearsed the essentials of the faith, and the revelations of Joseph Smith, and the immediate coming of Christ. The congregation by vote of hands cast their vote for the nominees of the church for the various offices — no one dissenting.
I walked in the moonlight in this wonderful mountain walled valley last night and marvelled. The song of running irrigation rivulets, the smell of the lush green meadows, the miles of concrete walks, bridges acquaducts, everything trim and garnished. It was a contrast to Cambridge & to Madison. But there were little bungalows, with low ceilings that looked very attractive and, though about our dimension, they did not seem too small.
Do tell me that you didn't get too tired in Cambridge -—• but tell the truth, if you did. Care for your dear self.
Lovingly Fred
Utah Agric. College Logan, Utah June 10, 1924
My Dearest: Another lecture day over. I am getting adjusted and doing better work! Do hope you didn't get too tired. I regret leaving the house before it was finished. Rest now absolutely, and let the Hancock unpacking go till I come. . . .
There are 6 or 800 students now here, and registration may run to 1000, which is what they hoped for first year. My West class is overflowing a large room. The other about half that. Perhaps 300 in all — maybe more.
Still beautiful, but a trifle warmer. Overcoat every night! Am lunching now with the President.
Love Fred
Thursday, June 12, 1924
Dearest
Yesterday we motored some 13 miles up Logan canyon down which the Logan river runs. It is a good state road reaching 40 miles to Bear Lake between lofty hills & mountains. The river is a perfect trout stream with pools and riffles and just right for wading. Of course it must be fished pretty hard, but they tell me that on the fifteenth I will probably be able to find a trout or two — the open[ing] day of the season. Hooray! Then at the end of the ride we climbed nearly 2000 feet of sagebrush mountainside and soft rocks to' see a Juniper which is perhaps 5000 years old and not less than 3800. This the Chicago University botanist (Cowles) as well as the localcollege botanist (Hill) say is the minimum. I was with the botanical party. We left the college at 2 P. and the climb itself was done leisurely, botanizing on the way, and accompanied by the head forest ranger of the Cache National Forest, the Sheriff, a photographer, and some 20 students. The Tree fills you with awe. It isn't tall. of course you remember Junipers of the Sierras but it grows from a kind of towering base of lime stone rock, seem[ing]ly solid rock — and is of huge trunk, with limbs that writhe and wrinkle and twist and with their grey and brown colors make you think of the eldest man in the world. Really awe inspiring. It was discovered this spring. They made Professor Cowles & me have our photograph taken from the lower limbs, and are to send you one at Hancock. I feel quite young after the experience with a real old one. Stood the climb well and received praise from the mountain men.
Returning we visited two side canyons where the boy scouts and girl scouts respectively have their camps — huge log houses with stone chimneys, and well appointed inside. It was amazing to see the money and care they spend in bringing up their boys and girls in the midst of the wild — deer, bear, elk &c are often seen from these camps, and there is an annual day when fathers and sons meet there and the boys hear "dad" tell stories of his early adventure and get acquainted. . . .
Breakfast time! We have excellent meals.
Lovingly Fred
Utah Agricultural College Logan, Utah June 13, 1924
Dearest Mae: One week of lecturing is over today. Last night I went to a reception and dance — buxom girls and sturdy boys — almost all Mormons.
This noon I lunched as the guest of the Kiwanis Club and talked for twenty minutes—they pulled through ! Tomorrow I rise at 6:30 and go to Salt Lake on an excursion to the breeding grounds of the wild fowl on Bear River bay of that lake — a famous place.
Sunday I go fishing in the Logan river. My Swiss guide (Mormon) "Hurti" is to start at 3:30 A.M. with worms, to be sure to have a "joint catch" for us. But I shall not go until 10 when the flies are on the water. I saw several trout rising when we took our motor trip up Logan Canyon the other day, of which I wrote you. I don't know which made the deepest impression on me — the old Juniper; the beauty of it all; the ability to climb at this altitude; or the shouts of "Oh Boy!" with which the fourteen year old lad who was with us greeted the sight of the rising trout. The season opens Sunday, and I think I shall be on the stream every afternoon from present indications and invitations.
I am feeling very fit— I wish I could give you some of it! Poor little wife to get so tired!
The boy is a nephew of Professor Joel Ricks, who is in charge of the History Department. I think I won the boy's friendship by my stories of the bears I have met! Anyway he is devoted; and has just bashfully but confidingly proposed a fishing trip together, which I promptly accepted. Of course I shall lose my heroic size when he sees me fail to catch the trout; but I am devoted to him. . . .
I like these Mormon people; and the meals at the Domestic Economy building are good — the people pleasant — all professors & their families. The table is in charge of a California girl Mrs. Dossier, who is efficient and intelligent & inventive of new dishes. Professor Cowles (Chicago U. botanist) is usually my neighbor. Miss Shearer, a precise Wisconsin graduate (kindergarten Professor from California, Long Beach) on the other hand. Professor Reed (Farm engineering) and his wife and winsome little daughter of 4 or 5 years across. Columbia & Chicago professors at other tables. The children have joyful times together.
I am completely adjusted to altitude I think, and find it conducive to clearheadedness and liveliness of spirit, if it weren't from wanting you here. This extra unused bedroom, meant, I suppose for you, weighs on my spirit. I wish you could see these mountains drenched in moonlight—no clouds — or glowing at sunset -— the irrigation streams, the rich green of the valley below us, with Lombardy poplars and maples which give a Corot look to the landscape; and the two steeples of the grey stone Mormon tabernacle which rise from an eminence in the Valley, with the gold and green mountain sides as a background. It's the most beautiful campus I ever saw. The lawns, the miles of concrete walks, the perfect neatness everywhere make me ready to join the Mormon church—it has abandoned polygamy now! I enclose one of the songs we sang at the luncheon today — tune "Oh Susanna. I warbled with the best of them! We really ought to build a third bungalow here! I am sure Gray & Mary Parrot would prefer it to Northern Africa; but I shall wait until I test the fishing before I finally advise him to move.
News of Hell & Maria Dawes as Coolidges running mate just received—too much banker in the ticket I suspect for the West. I do not learn yet what La Follette will do; but I can guess.
Bless your heart, little wife. Fred
Utah Agric. College Logan, Utah Sunday, June 15, 1924
Dearest-
Saturday we breakfasted at 6:30 and went by electric trolley to Brigham City — & thence by auto to the Bear River bay wiiere it enters Salt Lake. It w r as an interesting trip into the irrigated peach-raising country about Brigham, but most of the way I was learning about Mormonism from the wife of Professor Ricks. She is daughter of a Patriarch, sister of an Apostle and a vivacious Scotch girl. I learned a lot but too long to detail by letter. The wild fowl of the Bay would have delighted you — but the mosquitoes wouldn't! However their bite proved not to raise a swelling or scratching so I paid tribute to them in the talk I was unexpectedly called upon to give at the "strawberry & cream" supper—(which turned out to be a buffet dinner) as "good mosquitoes". It was "well received."
We saw millions of pelicans and gulls & nesting ducks. But the most impressive were the beautifully marked wading birds who danced for us — stilts and yellow legs & pipers and so on indefinitely. There were lovely meadow larks, and cranes & bitterns & shags & so on. We had a good lunch at a duck club and were taken on the river in long narrow ducks boats driven by electric motors, seating 6 or 8 people.
Everything was well managed by the Brigham people, and as there were some 2 or 300 guests we were very much impressed. After supper Mrs. Peterson, the President's wife motored Professor & Mrs. Wood of Columbia, Professor Branscom, of North Carolina & me back by moonlight to Logan. I had them as my guests to cold drinks at the charming Blue Bird's Nest — an ice cream cafe.
This morning I have been out on Logan river — opening of the season. As I expected there was an angler every few rods and automobiles parked like in a city street. The Swiss took me out at ten and we got back by two. He had gone out at 3 A.M. and caught 2 three pound native trout and a half pounder by bait. The stream was lovely and I enjoyed the wading. Hugi, using the huge May flies which were very abundant, caught a half pound black spotted native; and three little ones: but, you would have had to beg a trout from some other fisherman than your husband. I tried the May flies and lots of other flies but I couldn't get a rise. The water had been whipped to death; but I haven't learned the river tricks yet. I shall try it again when the local artists have had their day! We dine at five — no luncheon -— so I am hungry—and I haven't had a chance at the postoffice since Friday. I hope to find some letters. But you must not tire yourself writing. I shall presume you are getting rested if I don't hear every day; but of course I love your letters and am anxious lest you have overdone. Tomorrow at eleven I talk at the public lecture hour: Clark stuff repeated. I acquired a lovely sunburn Saturday, so you will take me for a Mormon when I return.
Deepest loveFred
Utah Agricultural College Logan, June 17, 1924 Tuesday
Darling. . . .
I am having a struggle with the trout. They are too much for me in the swift, rushing river. I lose 'em. Went out yesterday with a brother-in-law of Professor Ricks — Dr Morrell, of Ogden, who is an excellent fly angler. He caught 5 — largest 1/2 pounds. I lost two — one a large fish. The "June bugs" — a big red bodied insect, as big as the biggest grasshopper you ever saw, fall from the leaves on to the river and are such large juicy mouthfuls that the trout have abundant food, and don't care much for a fly. I will not bait with them, neither did the Doctor. He sent them over to our table this morning. I explained who caught them and am thought too veracious a fisherman to be believed!
This evening I go into Logan with Ricks to a club dinner. One of my 1919 Harvard students, now head of the Springfield [sic] schools came up to hear me lecture, today and I may go to see him some week end. Springville is the home of Dalin the sculptor, & is said to be a New England (Mormon) village. It is famous for its love of art, and draws from all over the U.S. for its annual art exhibition — raising in the little town something like $2000 to have these exhibitions. It was quite touching to have him come up from 50 miles South of Salt Lake City to see me, wasn't it. It seems I was sympathetic when his wife was ill in Cambridge. I had forgotten all about it. One of my Harvard grad students, White, showed up today.
This is the most joyous gathering I was ever in. Everybody happy and friendly and eager.
All over the large grassy lawns of the campus there are sprinklers going continually often showering the concrete walks. I never go around but take my sprinkling. It evaporates almost at once. I know just how the robins feel when they run under the garden hose sprinkler.
It is now quite warm in the sun; but dry and stimulating and I feel very fit. At night I sleep under one or two blankets. The wind blows in a cold stream from the canyon into my room all night. The moon is so radiant as it rises full over the mountains that you can hardly look long at it without being dazzled, and the sunsets over the mountain rim are gorgeous. The meadow larks sing beautifully. In short it's all quite a perfect Paradise, lacking my particular Eve. I am glad you are ready for fun, — you have worked hard enough to deserve it, and if I can help furnish it you shall have it! I am not working too hard, and if the low level heat at Madison and Cambridge don't upset the apple cart I shall have gotten into condition for a fight or a frolic as well as a book when I get to Hancock.
I shall need $35 for rooms 42 " board (at$14awk) about 75 " sleeper, travel &c/152
say — for a margin of safety $200 by end of June. If I went to Bryce Canyon, or Yellowstone, or an extended fishing trip it would cost perhaps $100 more, & I guess I'll save that for the Fisherman's Luck. . . ,
And consider yourself hugged and kissed and generally ill treated by your only husband
Utah Agr College — Box 36 (use both) Logan June 20 '24
Dearest
Another week (2/3) over— so far as lectures go. I am holding out well. Since I wrote, we have had rain in the valley — green and rich far below us — & snow on the mountain tops — a glorious contrast. The sunsets have been indescribably fine. Today radiant unclouded blue sky & wonderful coloring — a little warmer. I have been on a trip to the "Girls Camp" up a lovely neighboring canyon — where we had supper. Saturday I go to Salt Lake & Springville south of it, spending Sunday. These people have taken me into their friendship and I shall feel like "one of the family" hereafter. They are unceasing in helpful hospitality & appreciation. Pres. Peterson wants me to return for next summer, but I postponed answer, telling him if haste was needed to go ahead elsewhere. I want to talk it over with you & Harvard — to learn rules of retirement on the point. I'm happy over your report of returning spirits and rest.May not write until Monday. Shall probably start for Madison two or three days after close of next week. Class hour —
Love Fred
Wednesday Logan, Utah June 25th, 1924
Dearest,
This climate certainly is fitted to my physical make up—I never felt better and w r ere it not for the desire to get back to you, I should be tempted to take to the mountains and forget history and educashone for the rest of my life! But you are a greater attraction than the mountains and the climate. "The nicest things come done up in the smallest packages!"
Since I wrote, I have been to Springville with Professor & Mrs. Ricks & Dr. & Mrs. Morrell & Roland their son. It was an interesting visit — too long to be detailed by letter. I sent you some post cards of Ogden Canyon & the road we travelled. Springville is an art center — a mere hamlet — occupied by New Eng[land] folk of Mormon faith mostly. Dallin's old home & that of Hafen the painter of charming mountain scenery.
At Salt Lake the lack of an inside pocket was taken advantage of by a pickpocket — or I dropped my pocket book out with the loss of my return ticket and ten dollars. So the trip cost me about $120, in view of the high cost of the one way return ticket. I am ashamed, of course, of my tenderfeet and the loss of money as well as of selfrespect; but it's a lesson, and I shall cut out the Idaho trip & Bryce canyon, and so perhaps, on your way of reckoning I may save a lot of money!
Last night I went to strawberries & ice cream at one of the Dean's — Talked all evening with Professor McLain — health supervisor at Detroit. . . .
This afternoon I have a final fling at the Logan Canyon trout. Whether I can master the mystery of how r to handle them when the w r ater is going by like Maughn's airplane, I don't know; but I shall be with Dr. Parkinson — a local fisherman & see how he does it, any way.
Warm dry days & cool nights now. I shall miss the nights. I leave (unless unforeseen obstacles appear) Tuesday 1:45 P. — or thereabout, and spend the 4th in Madison, perhaps reaching Cambridge 7:25 P.M. Monday July 7 & going to H[ancock] P[oint] as soon as I can pack & finance affairs. Perhaps arrive Friday the 11th — A.M. Horray!
Fred
Luncheon time — Kisses & hugs & Love
Thursday [June 26, 1924]
Dearest
Letter from Chief of Police, Salt Lake City tells me my pocket book was found — the ticket included but money ($10.00) gone. It had been thrown into an old lot near the Saltair Park where it was stolen. Great luck — at least $100 saved. I leave Tuesday. Fished yesterday afternoon on the beautiful Logan river, 25 miles up with a crack fly fisherman. I got as many as he did (thanks to his instructions) but none large — 3 each; but I learned some things about the river fishing. It was a lovely outing.
Love
Fred
Last lecture given Check for salary in my money belt Leave here Tuesday
Friday [June 27, 1924]
Enclosed are Kodaks by Professor Ricks which he sends to you with his compliments. I talk 10 minutes tonight at the ampitheater dedication. Everybody is too kindly appreciative of my course. I am utterly spoiled. But me and the climate are so congenial that I may recover. And I am
Your loving Husband
Utah Agr. Coll. Sunday June 29 1924
Darling:
Yesterday Professor & Mrs. Ricks, her sister Mrs. Morrell & her little daughter, and Mrs. Hill, another sister, & her small daughter, took me to Bear Lake & return. It is a canyon and mountain pass ride of 40 or 50 miles each way, passing the length of Logan Canyon out of Cache Valley, northward, narrowing and writhing as it follows the rejoicing little Logan river, singing through the pines, and the quaking aspin [sic] till it is a brook at the divide. Then grassy slopes, with dug-in zigzags, the valley dropping hundreds of feet below the notched road in the mountain side, rising to about 8000 feet. On the way we passed the lovely Ricks spring bubbling up from the rock, overhung by a rocky roof — a room about 30 feet in diameter & ten feet high, floored by the deep pool of cold crystal water — a real spring! Cattle grazed by the water holes after we left the stream, and at last on a sharp hairpin curve, we could see the bluest gem of a lake, set among the distant mountains and bordered by rich green meadows, a thousand feet or so below us. Bear Lake is about 10 miles wide and about 20 long. Coming home we had several narrow escapes from reckless autoists rushing around the hairpin curves & corners; but we made it all right. I found Merk here on arrival. He likes it as well as I do. I have made more of an impression than my lectures deserved and everybody is very kind. I am a Mormon in everything but revelation: Polygamy is over — so don't be alarmed. But honestly, it is a most loveable, sincere, sound, clean population and I love them. . . .
Dearest
Love -— as warm as the sun!Fred
Los Angeles Limited Chicago & North Western Ry. Union Pacific System 8:30 P.M. July 2
Going through Iowa. It is cool and comfortable now and the day hasn't been very hot, but rather dusty. The "out" about Logan is getting out of it! I don't know whether a northern return route would be cooler, but anyway it has been worth the price. The train is crowded, chiefly from Los Angeles & Salt Lake City. The meals good, the roadbed perfect & we are on time. I have written you that I shall spend only the 4th in Madison unless unforeseen conditions require a longer stop. At Cambridge I don't know what I shall find. I suppose your letters to me at "7 Phillips PI" will be forwarded to me at H[ancock] P[oint] before I get them. Telegraph any important information for me. I shall pack as rapidly as I can during Sunday & Monday & take night train on Monday for H. P. On Tuesday, a week from leaving Logan, I should be with you on the ocean shore. It sounds good.
I may not write again until I reach Madison (via DeKalb) if we are on time there.
Heart full of love
Fred
Thus ended Frederick Jackson Turner's joyful three weeks in Utah, and thus ended his letters to his Darling Mae — save for one written from Madison on July 4 reporting that the new cottage was "nearly roofed and all shingled and quite cunning," and that he had managed to scrape together the $2,000 needed for the first payment. Turner left Logan with honest regret, despite his eagerness to join his wife, for he had fallen in love with the land and its people. "My best wish for all America," he once told President Peterson, "is that the country were peopled throughout by such citizens as these." The formal statement that he issued as he prepared to depart echoed these sentiments:
Nor were these words mere singing-for-supper insincerities; "Utah," he wrote a friend a few weeks later, "was a most enjoyable experience. I found a delightful society, a delectable scene, and hungry students."
These feelings were reciprocated. Professor Merk, who assumed his place on the faculty, found that any conversation with students or townspeople opened with a tribute to the visiting professors and particularly to the inspiration and charm of Professor Turner. One man told Merk that when Turner departed after only three weeks he felt as though he were saying farewell to a life-long friend. And as to what the ladies said, added Professor Merk slyly, I dare not repeat lest the letter fall into the hands of Mrs. Turner.
Such a mutual love affair should not be allowed to die. So reasoned President Peterson as he laid plans for his 1925 National Summer School. Negotiations with Professor Turner began while he was still in Logan, but could not progress until he had consulted his wife and inquired of Harvard University whether the terms of his retirement allowance permitted teaching. Once those obstacles were cleared the two men settled to another bargaining session. President Peterson's first proposal was that Turner and Merk should return for three-week sessions under the same financial arrangements, but this hit a snag. Merk felt that he must devote his time to research rather than teaching, and neither of the alternates whom Turner suggested — Frederic L. Paxson of the University of Wisconsin and E. E. Robinson of Stanford University—was able to accept., This was the president's opportunity to press for what he really wanted: Turner for the entire six-week session, with a salary of one-sixth his final Harvard income. The sum involved was too tempting to be ignored — progress on THE BOOK or no progress on THE BOOK — and Turner capitulated, but only after he had specified that he be paid on the basis of his joint Harvard-Radcliffe salary of $9,000 plus expenses, and that he give only one course. He had driven a hard bargain: one six-week course for $1,500 plus expenses in one of the nation's most attractive settings. And this at a time when $500.00 and no expenses was considered a suitable summer-school salary.
When Turner returned to Logan in 1925 he brought his wife with him, thus denying posterity the daily reports of his social pleasures and piscatorial disappointments. Yet every indication suggests that that summer duplicated the delights of 1924. There was constant entertainment, a trip to southern Utah for visits to the Grand Canyon and Bryce and Zion national parks, repeated battles against the trout in Logan River with only slightly more success than he had enjoyed before. He was, he grumbled at one point, about to take up "golf and orthinology" in place of fishing. He also found time to teach his one course on "the sectional phenomena from the colonial era to the present."
That was Turner's last summer in Utah. The National Summer School was again acclaimed a success, but something of the spark was dying. Most who attended summer schools, whether at Utah Agricultural College or any other educational institution, were teachers or others in need of practical help in their profession, not intellectually stimulating excursions into historical theory. So the trend was toward the appointment of teachers in education and agriculture, and the recruitment of fewer nationally known scholars. Turner produced another eminent historian for the 1926 session, Professor A. C. McLaughlin of the University of Chicago, and the faculty included such stellar lights as Professor E. A. Ross of the University of Wisconsin and Professor James G. Needham of Cornell University. Most, however, were run-of-the-mine educationalists and agriculturalists drawn from nearby colleges. By 1927 the catalogue no longer boasted of "the most eminent faculty ever assembled in the West or indeed, in the nation," but more modestly promised instruction by "a faculty of unusual merit." One of the most prominent attractions that year was Knute Rockne, director of physical education and athletics at Notre Dame University.
When President Peterson laid the plans that brought Professor Turner to Utah he dreamed of a constantly growing number of students
taught by a steadily increasing number of the nation's leading scholars. All would return to their homes preaching the beauties of Cache Valley and the virtues of Mormonism. "Our citizenship, long so misunderstood," he wrote at that time, "will be truly interpreted to the country. To live in Utah is to love Utah and her people." His vision never materialized. But in Frederick Jackson Turner he found one man who reacted as he hoped all would react, and whose affection for the land and its people never diminished during the remaining years of his life.
From that eyrie, 8000 feet above sea level, the weary pilgrim first sights his shrine, the object of his long wanderings, hardships, and perils, the Happy Valley of the Great Salt Lake. The western horizon, when visible, is bounded by a broken wall of light blue mountain, the Oquirrh, whose northernmost bluff buttresses the southern end of the lake, and whose eastern flank sinks in steps and terraces into a river basin, yellow with the sunlit golden corn, and somewhat pink with its carpeting of heath-like moss. In the foreground a semicircular sweep of hill top, and an inverted arch of rocky wall, shuts out all but a few spans of the Valley. These heights are rough with a shaggy forest, in some places black-green, in others of brownish-red, in others of the lightest ash colour, based upon a ruddy soil; wilst a few silvery veins of snow still streak the bare grey rocky flanks of the loftiest peak. (Richard F. Burton, The City of the Saints and Across the Rocky Mountains to California, ed., Fawn M. Brodie [New York, 1963], 210-11.)
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