knowledge of how in the past men have solved their problems or failed to
solve their problems."
The very same dream--in almost the same words. The founding letters of
John Boynton and Ichabod Washburn were dusted off to find reminiscent
phrases--"The instruction . . . best adapted to train the young for practical
life . . . so that the benefits of this school shall not be confined to the theories
of science" . . . "principles which will give the greatest advantage in the
affairs of life" . . . "moral and intellectual training" . . . "to elevate in
intelligence and influence and add to their personal independence and
happiness, while it renders them better and more useful citizens."
It was almost the first time anyone had had the courage to re-read the
founder's letters, so little hope had there been of fulfilling all their
specifications. But the 1960's was an era for facing the truth. A course in
Philosophy and another in Comparative Religions, several in Economics,
another in conjunction with Clark University for Biomedical Engineering, and
still another planned for Management Engineering would at least approach
some of the requirements. But there were scores of areas still untouched or
only partially attempted--coeducation, business, merchandising, teaching,
agriculture, philosophy, architecture communications, and of course the
humanities.
It had been a dream big enough for one century. It could be a big enough
dream for another and another and another.
General Storke looked carefully at the past before he planned the future.
Then in 1963 he published a report entitled Responsible and Responsive in
which he quietly asked for almost twenty-four million dollars to establish a
"rational control over our own destiny." He declared there would be no
jeopardy to the Institute's high standards because of either one of two
pressures --the anticipated rise in college enrollments or the rapid changes
in technological progress.
The initial step was the completion of a new dormitory in the fall of 1963,
the third in the history of the school. This one, named Daniels Hall, would
house an additional one hundred and eighty boys, give Tech News and the Peddler
new offices, and the bookstore another home after having been
located at one time or another in almost every building on campus. The hall
was named in memory of Fred H. Daniels, a graduate of Tech's third class, a
Worcester manufacturer, and Tech trustee. One of his sons, Clarence, had
been a student and a good friend of Tech. Another son, Harold, was a near
neighbor and also a long-term trustee of the Institute. He had long ago
resolved to become a "tow man" for Worcester's horse railroad. It had
usually required no more than two horses to pull the old trolley cars, but for
the long Lincoln Street hill where Harold lived a third one was necessary. The
three horses would pull the trolley to the top of the hill, then the "tow man"
would ride blithely down the hill on one of them