A friend of mine sends round this compilation of, well, History du Jour—historical events that took place on a particular date. And here was one of the vignettes for yesterday:
“In 1693, a charter was granted for the College of William and Mary by co-sovereigns King William III and Queen Mary II of England to develop clergymen and civil servants for the colony of Virginia. The scholastic honor society Phi Beta Kappa was organized there as a social fraternity in 1776. Seven signers of the Declaration of Independence (including its author, Thomas Jefferson), US Supreme Court Chief Justice John Marshall, and President James Monroe were college alumni, as were President John Tyler, General Winfield Scott, and statesman John Randolph. George Washington was the college's first American chancellor (1788–1799).”
(Thank you, Pundit’s Apprentice and Roger.)
And it brought to mind my personal association with W&M & the headquarters of Phi Beta Kappa:
I had my orals for my master’s degree at Phi Beta Kappa hall. My director, Ludwell Harrison Johnson, III, ran the society and thought it was appropriate since I had a key. Professor Funigello and Professor Genovese (the Big Gun visiting from Rutgers) were on the committee.
Professor Johnson started out by inviting everyone present to have a drink (choices being sweet sherry, dry sherry and whiskey). I declined, thinking it better to keep my wits about me, but encouraged them to suck it down, thinking it might be better if theirs were somewhat addled.
They asked me all the usual questions and I answered as fluidly as you would facing the Grand Inquisitor.
After I’d been sent out for a while (Professor Genovese later insisted they’d all sat around discussing football, which I doubt because it was May and therefore Not the Season), wishing I’d not worn a suit and nylons because it was hot and humid, and my shoes with the fishies on them weren’t very comfortable either, Professor Johnson ushered me back inside to announce I’d passed and I could therefore have a drink.
Which I did. Whiskey, not sherry.
My other sharp memory of W&M is of watching a mockingbird strafe a squirrel halfway across campus. Apparently the squirrel had come too close to the bird’s nest and was being taught a lesson it wouldn’t forget too soon.
Oh. And I did get the degree.
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