An insider’s look at a university collection so valuable, the professor who built it once stole it back.
The earliest herbarium—a collection of plant samples preserved for scientific study—dates to 16th-century Italy, when the Bologna physician and botanist Luca Ghini (1490–1556) sought to make plant material available to his students in winter when the plants were dead or dormant.
The specimens were flattened between two pieces of paper to remove moisture. Once dried, they were mounted on paper sheets with notations on the plant’s name, where the plant was gathered, and any distinctive features. The pages were bound into volumes to enable transport from one location to another, thus making plant material from faraway places available indefinitely.
The Stewarts at Westwood
Robert Bruce Stewart (HDR M’68), known as R.B., joined the Purdue University staff as controller in 1925. At that time, Purdue enrolled 3,000 students, the physical plant was worth $3 million, and the endowment totaled $340,000.
Stewart, who went on to become the university’s first vice president and treasurer, is credited by many with influencing the character and growth of Purdue University. He spent 36 years building the university both fiscally and physically.
Geochemist Marissa Tremblay ’12 analyzes Antarctic rocks to unravel Earth’s climate chronology and predict the planet’s future environment
A geologic field excursion to Death Valley during spring break her first year at Barnard set Marissa Tremblay ’12 on course to becoming a scientist. She entered college intending to pursue a law degree, but stepping foot on that vast, desolate desert landscape marked with sand dunes ignited a curiosity to uncover the stories in stones.
50 Years of Wolf Park
Founded by Purdue ethologist Erich Klinghammer in 1972, Wolf Park began as an experiment to study wolf behavior. The pioneering research conducted there over the past 50 years contributed to a better understanding of the apex predator and facilitated its reintroduction into the wild.
Twenty Years After 9/11 Longhorn Reflects on the Unexpected Detour—and the Subsequent Broadway Show—that Altered His Life’s Trajectory
On the morning of September 11, 2001, Kevin Tuerff and his then-partner, also named Kevin, were on an Air France flight bound for New York City. The couple had just wrapped up a European vacation and they were eager to get home. A sudden drop in elevation over the Atlantic Ocean was the first sign that something was amiss. Then came an announcement from the cockpit.
Tucked away in the basement of the Purdue Memorial Union, an entire world is unfolding under the watchful eyes of members of the Purdue Railroad Club (PRRC). Prompted by advances in model train technology, the club tore out a nearly 50-year-old model in 2008 to rebuild the present-day layout. The new track, the third in this location, spans more than 600 square feet in two rooms. Seven years later, there is much work left to be done.
It’s minutes before kickoff and the crowd at Ross-Ade Stadium has fallen to a whisper. Thousands of fans are on their feet with their heads angled upward, hearts swelling with pride, tears pooling in the corners of their eyes. A rich baritone voice fills the air, the solemnity of the words echoing out across campus. “Speak them firmly, speak them proudly, speak them gratefully.” Fifty thousand voices join in unison: “I am an American.”
Generations of Cary Quad men will recognize the hand-drawn Risk table that has anchored student gathering spaces since the 1970s. It currently resides in the fourth floor lounge of Cary Southwest. The strategy game released by Parker Brothers in 1959 is one of the best-selling board games of all time. But the identities of the students who created the Cary Risk table are unknown. Dave Brozenick (E’77), whose misspelled name appears on the underside of the table, claims he had nothing to do with it. “I vaguely remember that whoever made it put my name on it and spelled it incorrectly.”
Tired Boy, the bronze sculpture centered in Windsor Circle near the entrance of Wood Hall, was part of a collection of gifts donated to the university by philanthropist and art collector Catherine Barker Hickox of Michigan City, Indiana.
Its sculptor, Leopold Bracony, was inspired by an incident he witnessed during World War I. He noticed two people, a small boy and a woman, who stopped to rest in the midst of the bombing. Touched by the confidence the tired child placed in the woman, Bracony created the sculpture as a symbol of faith.
I travel often to cheer on the Boilers. Sometimes I get stuck in the airport security line for having packed something I shouldn’t have. How do you get through with the hammer? Any tips?
When it comes to travel, I live by two mantras. 1. Pack light. 2. Never leave home without your hammer. Luckily, there are times when the team travels by private jet and I am spared the rigmarole of the airport security check. But when plane capacity is tight, who do you suppose is first to get bumped to coach on a commuter discount carrier? Good ol’ Pete.
