Democrat and Chronicle from Rochester, New York • Page 103

4M ROCHESTER DEMOCRAT AND CHRONICLE Sunday, Oct. 6, 1963 and. By HENRY W. CLUNE They Don't Blow Like They Used To By GEORGE MURPHY MY EYE! Of course there may be nothing felonious about a wife going through her husband's pockets, sneaking out money, bus tokens, peanuts and crushed loose cigarettes, but I'd like to see a case of this sort tested as a misdemeanor. I think it is a misdemeanor, and if it isn't, it should be.

It causes trouble. It make a man nervous. It just isn't right no matter how you look at it. A man's coat pocket ought to be a man's sacred domain. The other day, for example, I hung my coat over the back of the chair while I went out in the garage to start a Iff 11111 jj striking the lip, or edge of the cylinder, a principle which except for the pro-pellant, differs in no way from the policeman's whistle.

The trigger mechanism is in the engine room on the first floor of Building 14. The steam runs through a pipe along the outside of the wall, to the whistle on the third-floor roof. It operates on 125 pounds of pressure. Nickel described the sound as not unpleasant. Its six-inch diameter and stubborn power mower.

I was gone 10 minutes. When I returned, the lady flaunted a crimson folder before me. She wore one of those catch-thief looks. "Well," she said in an accusatory tone, "what do you call this?" "From the color of I answered gaily, "it might be a tomato surprise." "Where did you get is?" "At the postoffice." I reached to take the folder. She parried the thrust.

I ALMOST THE LAST WHISTLE Only a few still are on the job at Rochester area factories. This is the one at Taylor Instrument. At left, Vernon Nickel, chief engineer at Taylor, shows how chain is pulled to sound whistle located far above on the factory roof. It wasn't long ago when factory whistles got us out of bed, sent us to lunch, and told us what time it was. But, now, in all of Rochester, you will find only three One is at Taylor Instrument 95 Ames another at Yawman Erbe Manufacturing 1099 Jay and a third is at Eastman Kodak Kodak Park, where the time of the day is tooted twice in the morning to start work, twice more when it's time to have lunch, and once again at quitting time.

East Rochester still has one at the Aeolian Piano Corp. in Washington Street. One of the primary reasons for the blasting of factory whistles the proximity of the workers' homes is no longer valid. Rochester's conglomerate of inner loops, outer loops, expressways, etc. make it entirely feasible for a man to work in the city, yet live a considerable distance from it.

PUTTING PRAGMATICAL considerations aside, there is one element that appears major in the thinking of concerns who continue to employ the whistle and that element is a tra- mmm at 1 7 One old-timer at Taylor's swears that the five o'clock whistle is much more dulcet than those that precede it. Oh, he loves his job it's just that he has an ear for music. Nickel says the Taylor whistle can be heard as far as the 200 block of Lake Avenue. Industries which have abandoned the whistle to the past rely on in-plant sirens and bells, a sense of personal responsibility, and the alarm clocks ticking in thousands of bedrooms to keep their people on schedule. The Expanding U.

of Big Will It Grow? dition, tempered by nostalgia. At Taylor Instrument, Vernon (Nick) Nickel of Victor, chief engineer, recalls how people in the neighborhood of the plant suddenly missed the whistle when the well went dry. It happened several years ago when a malfunction occurred in the engine room requiring Nickel's immediate attention. Now, Nickel is surrounded by a maze of machines, moving wheels, gauges, that would make a grease monkey on the Queen Mary feel right at home. So, when something goes amiss, as it did on this occasion, the least of his worries now is blowing the 8 o'clock whistle.

Besides, everybody's got an alarm clock these days. Or have they? "It's the only time I missed a whistle blast in the 12 years I've worked here," said Nickel. "Well, you should have been been here to count the telephone calls from people in the neighborhood." NOT HEARING the whistle at the appointed time was as though a central cog had suddenly slipped out of people's lives. Taylor's whistle is triggered by a vortex of steam from Page 1M in fact, they voted their formal approval of the new president only after he had been endorsed by the faculty committee. Even more impressive to some are the trustees' efforts in support of the university's year-round activities.

In September 1959, for instance, the university, with trustee approval, announced a long-range development program designed to provide the financial base for the next surge toward the academic heights. In the four years since that date the trustees have given generously of their time to relay the university's story to their own companies and in their home communities. In addition, they have accompanied university staff members on visits to leading national corporations. Recently 10 of them took two days from their busy schedule to call on key business, industrial, financial and philanthropic spokesmen in New York to encourage their understanding and interest in the university. Largely as a result of such efforts, gifts from corporations outside Monroe County have doubled in the last four years.

Contributions from Rochester-based firms, too, are on the rise. Just last week the University was tagged to receive $200,000 as a result of Xerox new program of donating one per cent of its annual pre-tax profits to higher education. (The university's share is the largest single gift in the program.) OBVIOUSLY, the trustees' "shirtsleeves" approach to their job has resulted from their growing confidence in the university's recent achievements. Most of them being businessmen, the trustees recognize that the university today is a complex $44-million-a-year enterprise and the community's third largest employer to boot They know that it takes a sizeable staff and a substantial budget to run such an enterprise. And they have fully supported the university's efforts to strengthen its administrative corps.

Today they work clocaly 7ir.i the president and with the vice pr3sidents who direct the university's business operations the men who call the shots on budgets and investments and fund-raising on plant construction and t- 1mm liriirmnmMul fniwl wt one-foot length give it a soulful sound, similar to the old train whistles. It is blown eight times a day. There are two short warning blasts at 7:55 a.m., one short at 7:58 a.m., telling the employe he has two minutes to' hit the time and one long at 8 a.m. At noon there is one long blast, signifying the beginning of the lunch period. That is followed by blasts at 12:55, 12:58 and 1 p.m., which serve the same purpose as those heard at similar time periods in the morning.

One long blast at 5 p.m. is quitting time. DONALD E. SMITH vice president jor university relations and alumni have sketched some general outlines of what's ahead for the next decade or Roughly, it shapes up like this: The university's primary goal will continue to be the top to bottom strengthening of its academic program. Within 10 years, for example, every academic department on the River Campus will offer programs through the Ph.D level.

However, academic expansion will be highly selective. What's more, the university now is not contemplating any forays into completely nwv fields no new law school, or journalism school, or such. Student and faculty rosters will expand, as will facilities but only to the extent that such developments contribute to academic excellence. Chances are that graduate enrollment will increase far more than undergraduate enrollment. ynAT MAJOR PROB-LEMS face the university as it moves to achieve these objectives? On the River Campus, the most critical need is to expand library holdings and facilities to serve both the increased numbers of students and the highly specialized requirements of the burgeoning graduate and research programs.

Almost as urgent are the needs for new quarters for the Departments of Biology and psychology a building to house the College of Education improved facilities for the Computing Center and an observatory for the- premising new programs in astrophysics. For the Eastman School of Music, the crucial challenges are to choose a successor to Dr. Howard Hanson, who re- "To whom was it addressed?" "Oh, come now, Chicadee," I said. "Let's stop playing games. It was addressed to you.

You know that. But it's second class junk mail. It isn't vital." "Since it was addressed to me, I should have had it. I didn't get it until I found it "Filched it," I corrected. found it in your coat pocket.

I suppose you know what it is. I am sure you do, since the binder is broken." "I was only trying to save you from yourself, dearie," I pleaded. "You don't mind my trying to save you from yourself?" "You know this red folder is an invitation to an auction for antiques." From Cellar to Attic "But we can get along without any more antiques," I protested. "They're in the cellar. They're in the attic.

The cellar and the attic look like the Salvation Army store. The only virtue is, you haven't moved the stuff up or down to the rooms in which we live. And you've been taken at these auctions," too. "What do you mean, 'taken'?" "Was it you, or a lady friend of yours, who paid $3.89 for an old bottle, thinking it was rare old glass, and discovered later that it was a discarded vinegar jug an Italian grocer had used to send some home-made wine over to a sick neighbor?" "As a citizen of the United States," she insisted, ignoring my question, "I am entitled to my mail on the day it is delivered. You've violated "Oh, don't speak of violations," I interrupted, "when you've entered my pocket without my permission." "That right is mine by marital contract." "Oh, no it isn't.

A man's pockets are "A man's pockets are a repository for unpaid bills, loose pipe tobacco, moldy peanut bars, broken sticks of gum, pencils without points, forgotten reminders of things to be done and what have you? If they weren't occasionally turned out and cleaned by a wife, it's revolting to think what condition they might in time be in. I've discovered almost everything in yours, at times, except the bone of a lamb chop. Today I found this announcement dated a week back that tells about an auction held two days ago." "You're making mountains out of molehills," I told her. "There are auctions every day. What if you did miss this one?" "This was a very particular auction, with a splendid listing of the choicest antiques.

They sold a beautiful six-leg dropleaf solid cherry table, an early hand-forged bread shovel, and a pair of carriage lamps, very unusual." "So far as the carriage lamps go," I said, "you need those about as much as I need a stomach cramp. I won't protest the six-leg dropleaf table, but what in heaven's name is a bread shovel? I've heard of pea pushers, corn holders, mustache cups. A bread shovel doesn't sound very Emily Post to me. I think you've done well to lose a bid on that one." Then, a Blue Folder But we achieved a sort of truce after I promised promptly henceforth to deliver to her all mail bearing her name, from Sears' catalogues to birth announcements. And the next day not a red, but a blue folder turned up in the mail, and her face lighted with joy when I handed it to her.

"Oh," she cried, "what would you think of a two-drawer dropleaf stand, with ogee crotch mahogany drawer front and elaborately turned-up legs?" "If it's authentic," I said, "with an honest-to-gosh ogee crotch mahogany drawer front, I think it would be wonderful in George Washington's home at Mt. Vernon." "It would be wonderful in this room," she said. "It's being offered this very afternoon at an auction near Bloom-field. I'm going to try for it." I left her, knowing there was no point arguing the isssue; and returned that night to find her having a hand to-hand struggle with bulky things hanging to the back of the car. "Did you get the dropleaf stand with the ogee crotch mahogany drawer front?" I asked.

"I just missed it," she said, "but I've got two of the dearest chairs, three cyclone lamps, and a surprise for you, my pet." "For me? What in the world could you get for me?" "An adorable porcelain shepherdess. Help me off with these chairs and I'll show it to you." "Well, really," I said. "An adorable porcelain shepherdess! Has she a crook?" "Don't be funny," she pleaded. "Please don't be a funny man. I've had a hard day in that crowd." "But tell me.

What am I going to do with a porcelain shepherdess?" She was having trouble with one of the ropes around the chairs. It may have made her the least irritable. "Why, hang it around your neck for a charm," she said crisply. "Of all the ingrates! I bid $1.75 for it, and had a struggle to get it. I suppose you'd rather have "Not another thing," I said, "unless you've picked up a couple of nice cantaloupes, or a dozen homemade fried cakes along the road.

Fried cakes, like mother used to make." "Your taste," she said, "is all in your mouth. And that stuff with chopped ice, and a lemon peel in it, you take at 5 o'clock, nuy be making yea loce that, lilt cCl thoce chiirs, and don't crap them." Sr I lifted off the ehs'rs Jis, secretly inveighing against auctioneers who send my lady folders for their auctions. An adorable porcelain shepherdess, for My eye! Continued part-time students, some 8,000 of whom now take courses at the university each year. 5f INTERESTINGLY, two significant changes have gone almost unrecognized by the community at large. The first of these is the increasingly vital role being played by the university's trustees; the second is the rise of the "administrative team" the administrative vice-presidents who work with the president in conducting the university's non-academic affairs.

Joseph C. Wilson, chairman of the Board of Trustees for the past four years, is enthusiastic about the board's broadened view of its functions. And in support of the university's drive toward national distinction, he and his executive committee have hailed the appointment of more trustees from beyond the Rochester area. Today, in addition to leaders from Rochester-area business and industry, the board's roster includes J. Douglas Brown, dean of the Princeton faculty; C.

Grandison Hoyt of the investment firm of Brawley, Cathers Co. of Toronto; Arthur Kantrowitz, director of the Avco-Everett Research Laboratory in Massachusetts; Edward A. Weeks, editor of The Atlantic Monthly; and Leo Welch, chairman and chief executive officer of the Communications Satellite Corp. BUT THE MOST striking change has been in the trustees' own concept of their job. A case in point was their role in the selection of the university's new president.

During the 10-month selection process, the eight-man trustee committee, along with a specially chosen faculty committee, devoted hundreds of hours and traveled many thousands of miles to interview prospective candidates. Wilson, for example, made numerous trips and interviewed some 23 candidates. William S. Vaughn flew to the West Coast on one "prospecting" mission. John Remington made an extensive swing through the South and Midwest on a similar expedition.

And so on. Yt, the selection period, the trustees insisted that thelead-ership of the presidential search should be in the hands of the faculty. And, HULBERT TRIPP vice president for finances tires as director next June, and to find a solution to the school' I mounting deficit. And at the Medical School it is apparent that the "massive reappraisal" of the educational programs now under way will bring new needs to increase both faculty and facilities. ONE THING is certain.

How fast and how effectively the university expands in the decade ahead will be determined very largely by the financial resources available to it. This was made clear by President Wallis in his inaugural address. With typical candor, Wallis noted that "each of my five predecessors, like me, counted heavily on this city's support of its university when he decided to come to Rochester and none of them was disappointed. Rochester is a remarkable city in its capacity and willingness to support education. It is already clear that to bring to fruition the developments on which the university is so successfully embarked, it will be necessary within a very few years to put that capacity and generosity to the test The U.

of lanky, redheaded president doesn't underestimate the magnitude of his task. Although he occasionally startles listeners by casually describing the university's multi-million dollar needs in terms of "megabucks," he has a healthy respect for the implications of such figures. Above all, he's convinced that the university is on the right track. As he noted in fce insugursl tdcr3C3: "Tm university to truly on the course to iin own farthest star. The job ahead of us, fortunately, is not to find the course but to adhere steadfastly to it." HENRY C.

MILLS vice president jor educational administration maintenance on the administrative details of research programs on personnel, purchasing, accounting and the like. President Wallis has expressed high regard for his "administrative For soft-spoken LaRoy Thompson, vice president and treasurer, whose rapport with both academic and administrative colleagues confounds the old saw that at any college "everyone hates the treasurer." For financial vice president Hulbert Tripp, who manages the university's $200 million-plus investment funds and recently was chosen to serve on the Trust Board of the First National Bank of New York. For Henry C. Mills, vice president for educational administration, whose long-range studies of the university's space needs laid the groundwork for much of its recent physical expansion. And for Donald E.

Smith, vice president for university relations and boss of the current $49.9 million development program that already has realized some $35 million since the fall of 1959. Even the faculty it's traditional for all faculties to take a dim view of university administration today is casting a kindlier eye toward the Administration Building. A few cynics suggest that this recent mellowing on their part is not unconnected with the fact that faculty salaries here are now among the best in the nation. (The current report issued by the American Association of University Professors gives am A rating to only IS iasfitu-tfons, incrafllng Rochester, exit of some 667 colleges and universities.) TO SOME OBSERVERS of the academic scene, the LAROY THOMPSON vice president and treasurer strength of a university's administrative staff is measured as much by what it doesn't do as by what it does, since an administrator's job is to implement educational policy not to make it. At the University of Rochester the shaping of academic policy is strictly the province of the chief academic officers: President Wallis, Provost Mc-Crea Hazlett, newly-appointed Associate Provost Robert France, and the deans and directors of the seven schools and colleges.

As far as President Wallis is concerned, educational policy is the responsibility of the total faculty as well. For this reason he is an ardent supporter of the recently-created faculty Senate, a university-wide body composed of and elected by members of the fulltime faculty. THAT LIES AHEAD for the University of Rochester? What are its long-range goals? In a recent "State of the University" report to President Wallis, Provost Hazlett summed up the university's aims in these words: "The university," he wrote, "has set for itself the objective of achieving, within a framework of moderate size, so high a degree of excellence that it will be considered among the best private universities in the United States, and will perform well a relatively unique function of educating unusually talented students in an unusually rich environment of inquiry, discovery, and accomplishment." As yet, no formal blueprint for the university's future has been drawn up. But President Wallis' inaugural address and his talks before students, faculty,.