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.
Pioneering journalist Betsy Wade ’51 broke barriers for women in news
When Betsy Wade ’51 became the first woman to edit the news in the 105-year history of The New York Times, she noted the spittoons vanished from the city room within her first week. Her landmark appointment to the copy desk in 1956 signaled a new era for women in journalism, previously relegated to women’s pages that covered the “Four F’s” — family, food, furnishings, and fashion.
Boilermaker basketball star-turned-artist Joe Barry Carroll explores his roots and shares his perspective on growing up in the impoverished South and traveling the world with the NBA through large-scale paintings that befit his imposing stature.
Joe Barry Carroll can’t answer the phone. His fingers are covered in paint.
When he calls back an hour later, his baritone voice exudes warmth. Carroll (M’80) grew up in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. Although he graduated high school in Denver, Colorado, he’s called Atlanta, Georgia, home since retiring from the NBA in 1991. There, he built a successful career as an investment adviser.
Remains of soldier killed in Vietnam return to Indiana after 51 years
Ann (Bardach) Vollmar (LA’67) will never forget the cold January day in 1968 when an army captain from Fort Harrison knocked on the door of her family’s Westfield, Indiana, home. Her father was away in New York City for business, and her mother was still at work in downtown Indianapolis. Vollmar was home alone with her younger brother, and the two of them knew the captain’s visit must be related to their oldest brother, 1st Lt. Alan Bardach (M’66), who was fighting in Vietnam.
Freehafer Hall, once lauded as example of early open office plan, demolished
Construction crews quietly demolished Freehafer Hall of Administrative Services over the course of several weeks this winter as part of the State Street redevelopment project slated to plot a new roadway through the site. Although it was razed with little fanfare, when it opened its doors in 1970, the administrative services building (as it was then known) was heralded on the cover of Administrative Management magazine as the “Offices of the Year.”
Tyler Trent was diagnosed with bone cancer twice by age 18. He’s had nine major surgeries in the past three years. Now the Purdue freshman and die-hard sports fanatic is determined to live life on his own terms, come what may.
Tyler Trent knows the statistics.
According to the American Cancer Society, about 450 children and adolescents are diagnosed with osteosarcoma in the United States every year. About 2 percent of all childhood cancers are osteosarcoma. If treated before it spreads, the five-year survival rate is between 60 and 80 percent. Recurrent osteosarcoma occurs in 30 to 50 percent of patients with initialized local disease. If the disease has spread to the lungs, the long-term survival rate is about 40 percent. Once it spreads to other organs, chance of survival drops to 15 to 30 percent.
One of the first things a young cadet learns is how to properly shine military-issue leather shoes.
ROTC programs are designed to model operational military units for which customs and courtesies — including a meticulously presented uniform — are the foundational basis for etiquette and conduct.
Col. Chris Moss (LA’90), commander of the 30th Space Wing and Western Range, Vandenberg Air Force Base, in central California, fondly remembers shining shoes with his flight, the two dozen junior cadets for whom he served as flight commander in ROTC. In those days, patent leather shoes were a privilege afforded to senior cadets, which meant Friday night gatherings for underclassmen, replete with cotton balls and wax.