Four of the men pictured at right set out to play a joke and instead ended the six-year run of the The Purdue student newspaper. They were Daniel Royse, extreme left; Dumont Lotz, standing; and Samuel Saltmarsh, seated facing right. At the extreme right is John McCutcheon, scissors in hand, later a leading editorial cartoonist. James Smart (below right), Purdue president from 1883 to 1900, dismissed editors of The Purdue in 1888 after they ignored warnings not to publish a spoof issue.
Many are familiar with the controversy of the late 1960s that led to The Purdue Exponent becoming a corporation apart from the University. Since the 19th century, the student newspaper had been a student organization the same as any other - sanctioned by the University and subject to rules and the possibility of censure.
Then in the late 1960s, when students agitated about the Vietnam War, student rights and other issues, two potty-penned Exponent columnists took to task President Frederick Hovde. At issue were demands by some students and faculty that the Central Intelligence Agency ought not be allowed to recruit on campus. Hovde refused to ban the recruiting.
After the column was published that ripped Hovde for his inaction, the Exponent editor was removed from office by the vice president for student services. He cited the authority of the University as legal publisher for the dismissal. Student editors stood with the editor in chief and vowed to continue publishing.
As a compromise, Hovde appointed a committee of students, faculty and staff to review governance of the paper. One outcome was creation of the Purdue Student Publishing Foundation, the corporate owner of the paper. It was a turning point in the life of the student press at Purdue, but it was the second such confrontation.
The first began in the spring of 1888. For the six years before and briefly in 1875, "The Purdue" had been the student monthly. More a collection of essays and society news than a modern newspaper, The Purdue was the way students trained themselves in the methods of reporting and writing and - like the editors 80 years later - tested the limits of propriety.
In the 1880s, campus social life revolved around four literary societies: the Philalethean for women, and the Carlyle, Irving and Emersonian for men. The societies met weekly to present orations, declamations and generally to debate the issues of the day. Another role the societies served was to provide several editors each for The Purdue.
It was this tradition of the societies providing editors - and a challenge by four juniors who declared that the senior class ought to edit The Purdue - that led to the end of The Purdue and the birth of The Purdue Exponent.
A June 1888 "special edition" of The Purdue lists four members of the editorial staff instead of the usual dozen or so and the literary societies they represent. Also printed on the cover are the words "A college paper, published monthly during the college year by the class of '89 of Purdue University."
In an article headlined "'89's Salutatory," the editors informed readers that management of the paper had passed "from the hands of the literary societies into the hands of next year's senior class. ..."
It continues: "Such a step has, by our representative college men, long been deemed necessary and its accomplishment has but been delayed till the class of sufficient executive, literary and business ability appeared, and its ability become recognized. We bid our readers adieu and hope for their patronage and kind regards in the future."
One reader in particular, President James Smart, had something less than "kind regards." It turns out that Smart, who had been tipped off about the "special edition," had summoned the four before it was printed and warned them to do all they could to stop the presses.
In a letter to the editors after the edition was published, he wrote: "I call your attention to the fact that you, being one of the editors of The Purdue, were called into the President's Office ...
"You were reminded that The Purdue was the official organ of the University and that its editors had no right to permit it being used for private, or class purposes, and that any attempt to bring out a special edition containing matter that would bring contempt upon the University or any of its classes would be looked upon by the Faculty with disfavor. ...
"You did not heed this warning, but assisted in sending out an objectionable publication, purporting to be an official copy of The Purdue. ...
"I have laid the matter before the Faculty and I am directed to say that they believe that you not only deserve severe censure for this act of insubordination, but that you have by it forfeited your right to retain your position as a member of The Purdue staff, and that you will not hereafter be permitted to exercise such office."
Although the four editors clearly were serious about taking over the paper, the special edition was a bit of a parody and included this ode to the outgoing class:
"Oh, sweet chumps of '88
With this fast fading sheet
We wend our paths,
In sundry channels, -
Perhaps never to meet."
The high tone of the article that declared that new editors were in charge gave way to bawdy limericks under the heading "Literary Department." Among them:
"There was a man named Lutz
Whose brains settled down in his boots;
So that when he would think
His feet they would stink;
Oh, he was the King of Galoots."
In the fall of 1888, no student paper was published. Instead, the societies, the faculty and President Smart exchanged correspondence. The faculty and president called on the societies to come up with a new constitution for the student paper - one that reinforced the notion of University control.
The societies were defiant. The Irving Society, two members of which were among the editors upbraided in June, considered this resolution in September:
"Resolved, that we, the Irving Society, pledge ourselves not to support the `Purdue' either by contributions or subscriptions, until our editors thereof shall have been exonerated from the censure under which they now lie."
In early October, the faculty and Smart sought to end the standoff by threatening to suspend the four seniors.
That action did the trick, as discussions moved forward on the constitution. By late October, the societies had submitted a constitution for the new college paper.
The 1889 Souvenir, a yearbook published by Sigma Chi fraternity to mark the 15th anniversary of the founding of the University, tells the story of those 18 months of acrimony, beginning with the end of The Purdue:
... Its downfall, which would have occurred sooner or later had it continued under the old constitution, was hastened by the 1889 editors, who assumed the responsibility of getting out an issue for the month of June. This was in conflict with the will of the faculty.
"As a remedy a new constitution was advised, but the societies and the faculty could not agree upon a document, so the publication of the paper was discontinued.
"During this year - 1888-89 - in the societies the question, `Shall we have a college paper?' was again agitated. The fall, winter and spring terms were spent in this discussion, but when June arrived, they were no nearer a conclusion than they were at the first of the year. But when the days of September of 1889 brought back the students to their duties, the prospects for a paper were far brighter than they had been the year before. The class of 1889 had gone.
"The Exponent has come to stay, probably, as there is little prospect of another 1889 ever getting into Purdue."
The Purdue Exponent, Vol. 1, No. 1, finally appeared Dec. 15, 1889. And other than a brief hiatus caused by a staff shortage during World War I, the paper has been published on a monthly, semimonthly, weekly or daily basis since.
Stories by Jay Cooperider
Debris photographs and vintage newspapers courtesy of Purdue Special Collections.
An exception to this publishing axiom is found in the early history of the student press at Purdue.
In November 1882, Vol. 1, No. 1 of The Purdue was published, proclaiming itself "A college paper, published monthly during the college year, by the literary societies of Purdue University."
This was The Purdue that for six years was the means by which the student editors communicated the events of the day, or at least the month. And it was this The Purdue that, through the mischief of John McCutcheon and his chums, was last published in June 1888, never to return.
A closer examination of University archives reveals that The Purdue of 1882 was the second of its kind. The first The Purdue made a short but significant three-issue appearance at the end of the 1874-75 academic year - the first year classes were held.
The first Vol. 1, No. 1 of The Purdue was published in April 1875, calling itself "A Journal of Literature and Science." The editors, among them John Harper, a transfer student who received the first degree conferred by Purdue that spring, set down in words the work they hoped to do:
"The Purdue asks a share of the patronage extended to college papers. It proposes to fill its pages with good thoughts, and, as far as possible, with good English. It will have not merely a local interest, but it will deal also with topics which engage the attention of thinking men everywhere." Besides Harper, a chemistry professor by the name of Harvey Wiley also worked on The Purdue. Wiley, who was among the first Purdue faculty and remained until 1883, was later responsible for the first federal pure food and drug legislation while working for the U.S. Department of Agriculture.
The words in that first issue of The Purdue tell of a campus where John Purdue still poked around, seeing to it his philanthropic project succeeded:
"The Purdue is proud to bear the name of the honored founder of the University. We repeat no word of fulsome praise when we say that although oftentimes misunderstood and misjudged, yet the event has always proved his intentions good and his course honorable. The years have not left his hair untouched, but his form is yet upright and his step vigorous, and we hope he may live to see Purdue University take a high place among the schools of technology."
The 1874-75 year was an uncertain and unenlightened time. Just 64 students were enrolled and but a fraction of those actually qualified for college-level work. And the editors of The Purdue - and the student body generally - would soon discover that they would have to engage the attention of more than just thinking men. In that first year only males were eligible to enroll, but that was about to change.
The same month The Purdue made its initial showing, the trustees, including John Purdue, voted to admit women in the fall of 1875. It was a development that the student paper challenged in the May edition.
Under the headline, "The Coming Specialists," the editors opined: "The Trustees of Purdue University have ordered, that after the present year, the school shall be open to both sexes. We regard this as an almost fatal mistake." The writer reasoned that because the University was founded "to furnish technical education; to make farmers, miners, engineers, naturalists and chemists," it couldn't possibly appeal to or serve women.
"It is not intended that a general education is to be given within its walls, but that instruction be given to fit men for the highest proficiency in the most exclusively masculine professions."
These men-only zealots declared theirs was a stand rooted in concern for women and that if women were to be admitted, that courses suited to their needs be established: "Let no one misunderstand this plea. It is made in all soberness and truth. Let a course be established in domestic economy."
It's clear the editors thought the University was and always would be a school of the manual arts, a gritty, sooty place where women just wouldn't fit in - although they remark that it's not so much that women couldn't do the work as they couldn't find work in the fields and factories after graduation: "We do not doubt the ability of young ladies to complete the course. There will be absolutely no inducement for them to do so, and they will soon become weary of study that promises no reward and leads to nothing."
In the fall, nine of the 66 students who enrolled were women. And 14 years later, when a student newspaper again was established, Agnes Eugenie Vater, Class of 1891, was editor in chief.
A thorough search of early issues of the Exponent, which made its debut in December 1889, shows a bit of coyness and wordplay but no definition.
You might suppose, because Purdue was first a technical school, "exponent" refers to the mathematical definition of the word. Maybe so.
In Vol. 1, No. 1, the editors submit: "In presenting The Purdue Exponent to our friends, it is with the hope that it may ever be the true index of the growing power of Purdue University." This sentence appears to be a multiple wordplay on definititions of "exponent," including index, power and exponential growth. In the conclusion of the nice-to-meet-you article on the cover of the first issue is this hint: "We will not multiply words. Let the sheet speak for itself." Hmm.
If the editors were seeking to obscure the true meaning of the name, it worked.
"My favorite is that it means one who expounds or explains," says Pat Kuhnle, Exponent publisher and general manager since 1984. "But I can't point to something that says that's what it means."
Precious little can be pointed to for clues, with a few exceptions. Until shortly after the turn of the century, the student newspaper was published by Purdue literary societies.
It was the literary societies that defied President James Smart - or rather mischievous members of the societies - by publishing a spoof issue of The Purdue, the predecessor of the Exponent, in 1888. And it was the chastened societies that came up with a new constitution for the paper that met with the approval of the faculty and Smart.
So it would make sense that the societies came up with the name. The minutes of meetings of the four societies each contains references to the spat that resulted in the end of The Purdue and the birth of The Purdue Exponent.
But a page-by-page scouring of the society meeting minutes in 1888 and 1889 reveals no mention of the meaning of the name.
Fifty years later, however, this reference to the name is found in a history column, "Purdue's Past," in the December 1938 Alumnus magazine:
"The four literary societies, Irving, Philalethean, Carlyle and Emersonian, met in joint session and discussed a new constitution for the college paper. The name adopted was `The Purdue Exponent,' the old name being enlarged by the addition of the last word." The columnist does not cite a source, and society minutes for a joint meeting are not among the Purdue archives.
One other clue presents itself in minutes of a faculty meeting from 1888. The faculty - then numbering 16 - was intimately involved in student affairs in the 1880s. Minutes of faculty meetings indicate considerable time was devoted to discussing the student paper, rewriting the constitution submitted by the societies, and in declaring what the name should be - sort of.
During the Nov. 12, 1888, meeting, this resolution was passed: "Resolved, `That the word "Purdue" be adopted as a part of the name of the College Paper of Purdue University." Elsewhere in minutes of the same meeting, the paper is referred to as "Purdue Exponent." Faculty meeting minutes dating back to June 1888 - dealing with the blowup about the parody issue and other matters relating to the student press - make no mention of the name The Purdue Exponent. It just emerges fully named in the November 1888 meeting, more than a year before the Exponent first was published.