had written hundreds of letters by hand to these boys. And they had
answered. They had replied when he asked for information about their
accomplishments and again when he asked, now that they were out of
school--which is more useful, French or German?
By 1882 the school had two hundred and seven graduates. They had
become civil engineers and mechanical engineers, employed by railroads,
industries, and municipalities. They were carpenters, bookkeepers, teachers,
chemists, clerks, and farmers. A few had gone on to further study.
These graduates were the school's best assets. One manufacturer told
Professor Thompson: "Their training enables me to cut the year or two of
lost motion for which the employer has to pay in the case of most men fresh
from school."
Two years after the first graduation, the alumni formed their association.
There had been a dinner "after which," it was reported with a candor which
has not often since been matched, "further remarks upon no subject in
particular were made by several persons." At the next meeting, however,
they flexed their new muscles of influence and agitated for certain changes at
the school. The first serious matter to which they gave attention was the
diploma which each had been given at graduation. Although by charter the
school was entitled to give degrees, it had modestly settled for diplomas with
the intention of giving later rewards for "professional success."
The graduates found their diplomas to be an embarrassment. Henry
Armsby, the first man to be listed as a graduate of the school by virtue of the
alphabetical position of his name, complained that the diploma had
prevented his receiving a doctor's degree at Yale University. A spirited
debate developed between alumni and trustees. Stephen Salisbury petulantly
said he didn't like the word "bachelor." It signified "one of the greatest
calamities in life," yet, he supposed, no other word would be so well
understood. Reluctantly agreeing to "conform in some degree to established
customs," the trustees voted to confer a Bachelor of Science degree on all
future and former graduates.
That the alumni had made such a creditable impression was as much to
their own credit as to that of the school. These boys who came to the
Institute were serious students. They had to be. Professor Thompson had
written to their parents: "Your son is a member of the Free Institute . . .
All the time of every student is demanded for study, recitation, drawing, and
practice." He warned the parents against evening entertainment and advised
the provision of a well-warmed, well-lighted study room. He frowned upon
the evil influence of riding to and fro on the horse cars, a deterrent to
"enthusiasm and singleness of purpose," and he firmly stated the school was
"not to be regarded as an easy road to knowledge."
This was no secret to the boys. Nevertheless, in the traditional fashion of
schools everywhere, the boys began to huddle together in little groups of
their own. Their embryonic activities ranging