In the 50’s being an Aggie automatically put you into a serious physical-training program.  Class scheduling, obviously the product of a disturbed mind, was especially difficult for Aggies.  8:30 AM, English class, in the Law huts north of the Library, 9:30 AM in the new Aggie Pavilion building, way out on the Farm.  Anyone for the five minute mile? 11:30 AM back to the main campus, back and forth.  You get the idea.  Its a wonder we didn’t steam like the old radiators in the huts after regular soakings by the persistent rain.  Perhaps there was a fringe benefit as Aggies seemed to do particularly well in intramural track events.

We had a small herd of Ayrshire dairy cattle and, under the watchful eye of Prof Jack Berry, learned to judge them in Animal Husbandry class.  Usually there were four cows and you ranked them and then gave reasons for your selections.  Our placements seldom seemed to agree with Prof Berry's whose ranking took into account the extensive pedigrees of each animal which he knew and could recite for many years past.  Also, we frequently heard of “ROP”, record of performance, figures so much butterfat, so many milking days.  That these ancestral traits were significant was true, but not visible to a student judge!

In Agronomy, Prof Bert Brink showed us dozens of museum specimens of native grasses.  Gradually we learned the technical vocabulary and could tell a ligule from a glume.  Our identification skills grew.  The next summer though, on a summer job with the BC Dept. of Finance, I participated in a grazing land survey.  Identification of native grasses was an integral part.  There was a problem though with identifications as the cattle had grazed the grasses down to small clumps or stalks!

In my time as an Aggie student there was the perception of other non - Aggie students that you spent your time with on campus shovelling out barns, milking cows, grinding up oats, or perhaps ploughing up the fields.  Aggies were low status.  It came as news to these detractors that Aggies took many of the “hard” courses i.e. Math, Physics and Chemistry, even Statistics!  This was academic agriculture, after all the name of the Faculty was Agricultural Sciences!

Being a Freshman on any campus is to be low man on the totem pole, but Aggie Freshmen had an edge.  Our entire class was given a special Library orientation course.  It lasted several weeks.  We met on the top floor, above the Ridington Reference Room.  A series of library people gave us a thorough background in how to use the Library.  To wrap it up, each of us received a "stack pass", an item normally issued to senior and graduate students involved in research!  Imagine your own stack pass and even better, you knew how to use it.  This gave us a tremendous boost, being able to use the Library's resources to their fullest.  A small thing perhaps, but it ranked pretty big with Aggie freshmen.  Somebody had a good idea.

Another feature of the fifties campus was the presence of large numbers of veterans.  They made serious students, with little patience with campus capers, and hardly gave a glance when groups of roving engineering students engaged in their spring ritual of throwing others into the Library lily ponds.  Not so my Chem lab instructor, fresh from Hungary, who mistook crowds of red-shirted engineers running down main mall as a revolution in progress.  The veterans, though, took their pleasure seriously and had their own club on campus, appropriately in one of the army huts on West Mall.  I think it was actually a Legion branch.  In practice, if you were a veteran’s guest, access was not a problem.

Army huts were everywhere in those days, serving as classrooms, labs, everything really.  Acadia Camp and Fort Camp served as student residences.  At the cliffs edge to the north of Main Mall stood derelict bunkers and gun emplacements  Below on the beach, stood two searchlight towers, linked by two inch rubber insulated electrical cables which led to a generator building concealed in the ravine below Cecil Green House.

The Aggie Farm was a bit closer in then, with fields where S parking lot is today.  Actually it stretched from the Horticulture greenhouses right out to Thunderbird Stadium.  There were extensive poultry buildings.  Eggs and, I believe, dressed chickens on occasion were sold to the public, which proved quite popular.

A large barn, now gone, held a number of beef cattle for nutrition experiments.  For a while a small herd of deer were also housed there, again for nutrition work

Now that was a course!

Agriculture 100, an introduction to Agriculture, was required of all first-year students.  The course was all of that and so very much more, being-team taught, each Prof taking a few classes.  AG 100 was a regular potpourri of content, varied, useful, interesting, all applied.

Take Prof Barss, Horticulture.  He came to class one day carrying a nine-foot tree, well-branched and leafed, and a pair of hand pruning shears.  "Pruning,” remarked Prof Barss, “is not a random thing.  Each and every cut must be planned, be part of an overall scheme.''  He proceeded to demonstrate, matching snips with reasons.  Clip, clip, more reasons, and the pile of discard grew as the tree became noticeably smaller.  On he went explaining the reason for each cut.  Finishing with a flourish he held aloft the remains of the tree, now consisting of its central stem and I think only two very short branches.  Memorable?  I'd say so, since I can still remember the broad smile on his face as he departed.

Poultry Science was introduced by Prof Lloyd, who arrived at class with a white leghorn under his arm, which matched nicely with his shock of white hair.  Prof Lloyd loved his birds, it was easy to see.  We listened carefully, but the bird was definitely a scene stealer!  Years later I was to use my rudimentary understanding of chickens to resolve a free-ranging chicken farm complaint about bobcats and their predatory ways on Sumas Mountain.  The chickens were roosting in the trees.  The bobcats came for miles and it was a regular Col. Sanders situation for them.

Prof. Jacob Biely was the other "Chicken Prof''.  A poultry nutrition man, a biochemist, every inch a “lab man” always on the go, often in the company of his associate Prof Beryl Marsh.  They were a familiar couple, striding along in their starched white lab coats as they headed for the Bus Stop Coffee Shop.  Basic nutrition principles applied equally well to deer and moose I discovered.  Useful stuff.

Prof Laird, dark suit, arrow-straight posture, he might have been a Coldstream Guard, taught soils, and the practical on how to use a dumpy level to survey a field , make a contour map and plan drainage; all skills I've used away from campus in later years.

Even Dean Eagles took a turn.  Dairying and Dairy Bacteriology were his specialty.  There was a great deal of chemistry.  The Dean delighted in giving us the "milk mixing" problem as it came to be known.  I’ll bet it’s still around.  You know, mix so much high-fat-content milk with so much low-fat milk to get a product of a certain percentage.  It was sort of rite-of-passage for Freshmen, who were frequently coached by upper classmen who sat down with the bewildered until "they got it".

These Profs I remember most, but there were others.  Profs Brink, Stan Wood, Alex Wood and Coulthart all participated.  Agriculture 100 did its job in providing the incoming class of Aggies with a clear view of the Faculty’s courses and their teachers.  It was great for planning your program, useful then and useful later.  Perhaps best of all, you got to know your classmates, all of them.  It made for a close-knit bunch.  You had a sense of place, you had friends, you were an Aggie!

“The Dean wants to see you”

Ray Baynes remembers well that early one day in January a group of students sat in the battered wood chairs around the big table in the Aggie men’s common-room.  "I’ve got to see the Dean" said John.  "So do I!” someone else joined in.  In fact it was soon apparent that all of the freshmen were invited upstairs, one at a time.  There was a list posted.  “Since I had a name beginning with “B” I found my "invitation" - more of a command performance – was one of the earliest.  The Dean's secretary, Miss Buchanan, motioned me to a chair.  Miss Buchanan was one of those "power behind the throne" type persons.  It was quite apparent that she knew pretty well everything that was going on the Faculty and that included freshmen.  My turn.  In I went.  Dean Eagles welcomed me with a smile.  "Nice to see you. How is everything going?"  He showed a genuine interest.  After a few opening words he came directly to the point.  "I like to review every freshman's marks after the first term," he commented and reached for a file.  "Just to see how things are going”, he continued.  He fixed me with a steady look, rather owl-like with his heavy rimmed glasses.  So this was what it was all about.  Marks. Hmm.  "Basically you are doing all right, but your marks are a bit low.  I’m certain you can do better and I want to see an overall improvement this term, especially in Chemistry!  So you had better get started! "

Off I went, admonished but relieved that I had not been given -the dreaded “BAC” - bounded at Christmas – edict and forced to quit the University,  a common practice at the time when seats were at a premium.  I decided right then to make a determined effort to get those marks up.  More time in the library and less in the coffee shop.

Downstairs several of my friends clustered around to quiz me about my visit upstairs.  “It’s all about marks” I replied.  There were a lot of worried faces.

A few days later another notice appeared in the common room.  All freshmen were invited to meet in AG100 at 12:30 PM.  Dean Eagles wanted to see us -all of us!  Something was going to happen.  AG100 was filled right up and buzzing with talk which stopped abruptly as the Dean entered.  He wasted no time.  “All of you need to improve your marks, especially in Chemistry!"  At least I wasn’t alone.  “I won’t have my students doing poorly in Chemistry.  Chemistry is good stuff.  It’s necessary and you are all going to do better!  Every Tuesday, starting right now, in this room, you have a date with me.  I am going to teach Chemistry!"  The Dean reached for a piece of chalk.  "Of course you don’t have to stay, but I strongly recommend it!"  No-one left.

And that’s the way it was.  The Dean’s instruction was easy to understand.  Chemistry problems that had been obscure now became familiar and, even better, you knew how to solve them.  The weeks passed quickly.  Soon it was exam time then the marks were posted.  Our marks were better, much better in most cases.  Some of us in fact were even beginning to like Chemistry!

Later another notice appeared in the common room.  It was from the Dean, and read that he was pleased to observe "that the freshmen class had made significant improvement in their marks, especially in Chemistry”.

There was no doubt that this achievement was in a large part due to the Dean’s personal efforts, a fact that was appreciated by us all.  You wouldn’t find too many Deans teaching freshmen.  Our academic efforts were renewed;  after all you couldn’t let your Dean down.” 

On to Agassiz!

Our own -brain to the Dominion Experimental Farm at Agassiz.  This was a big one, an all-day field trip.  Groups were formed, picnic baskets assembled, onto the train and away we chugged.  Much talk, a few songs, a great box lunch and many clickety-clicks of the rails and we were there.

It rained some, but we hardly noticed as we hiked into the Station.  This was to be a learning experience, much more than a “show and tell”.  It was to be a chance to show your stuff.  Each barn or exhibit held a little test.  Like judging the class of lambs, the absolutely huge Holstein cows and the even larger Clydesdale horses.  Machinery, too, was included.  List six ways this gang disc plough needs adjusting!  More than just marks were at stake.  Prizes would be awarded later.  A dozen or more silver trophy cups, part of the Aggie Tradition, bearing the names of the winners through the years.  Win the "Lady Jane” and you were a part of history.

Following our tour of the Station, we ate from those glorious food baskets again, and then into town for a dance arranged by the Aggie Undergrad Society.  The dance was a great time and most of us managed to make it back to the train!  That’s another story.

Farmers Frolic

The ''Farmers Frolic", highlight of Aggie week, as just days away.  A real Barn Dance with great live music, bring a box dinner, wear Western clothes.  Every Aggie was involved.  Tickets were sold campus wide.  All welcome.  Come and Party!

It would be at the old Armouries, about as barn-like a place as you could get.  A great empty space with a 30 foot ceiling.  It was a real challenge to decorate.  An ancient flatbed wagon borrowed from the UBC Farm was piled high with baled hay and rolled into the Armouries as a centerpiece.  We built a split rail fence around it.  Streamers, in blue and yellow crepe paper were strung everywhere, using a tower-like platform on wheels to reach the ceiling.  Tables were ranged around the sides, but most of the space was left open for dancing.

Frolic night came.  The Armouries were packed.  We Aggies had a section set aside, including space for Faculty who were well represented, as usual.

The music was really good.  The five-piece country band boomed out a series of lively music.  Polkas, country waltzes, even a schottische.  The crowd swirled around the hall in a colourful mass! sort of a controlled stampede.  We had square dances too, plus the always popular Virginia Reel, all high energy which brought the Aggies to the floor with a roar, and sent most of the Artsies to the calmer table areas where they were happy to watch the Fun.

Drinking?  Yes, there was quite a bit.  Not officially of course.  We kept the lid on.  Anyone getting rowdy was "persuaded" by our "roving bouncers groups” to leave the premises, promptly and permanently!  Some of our fellows were pretty big, too big to challenge.  There was never any trouble.

The food was outstanding.  The Aggie gals produced huge baskets stuffed with goodies like roasted chickens, sausage rolls, even pies.  Some groups set up smorgasbords.  Serious eating, while the band took a well earned intermission.

More dancing.  Quieter now, then the last waltz, really a medley of them, ended the night.  A great party, and we would get to do it again next year!

 The Agriculture Spring Banquet

Coming close to the end of the academic year, "the Agriculture Spring Banquet was usually held at the Commodore.  It was fairly expensive, even with the less costly chicken dinner.  The hall rental, orchestra, coat-checking, provision of soft drinks (read mixers) ticket printing, etc., all added up.  It didn’t seem to matter though as everybody went.

The Commodore wasn’t licensed.  Those who wanted something to drink brought a bottle, carefully wrapped in a brown paper bag and stashed it under the table.  The Commodore didn’t mind if you brought liquor in, but you had to buy their mixers at outrageous prices.

No blue jeans here.  This was a dress-up affair.  Semiformal, which translated into suits, white shirts and ties for the men; long dresses for the ladies, and corsages.

At this time most of the Aggie undergraduates were men.  Finding dates for all of the guys was a problem until it was discovered that the student nurses in residence at Vancouver General Hospital could provide any reasonable number!

It was always a rush to get your groups together and down to the Commodore.  Dinner was pretty good, being served up by waitresses carrying large trays, each with six or eight plates on them.  Few plates were ever spilled in the process.

Now it was time for the program.  I don’t know why so many speakers were on the program.  Usually a good dozen were ranged at the head table.  Be they Profs, campus Administrators, or "Captains of Industry", all had long stories to tell.  And tell them they did.  Hours passed.  Corsages wilted.  Too many drinks were poured.  One speaker, who produced a set of cue cards from his pocket, seemed to be covering the same material over again.  Indeed he was!  A few words were exchanged, as the cues must have seemed familiar.  The speaker finally paused.  Up jumped the AUS President, applauding vigorously, and thanked him.  The explanation came later, when the speaker discovered that he had left the concluding card in his jacket!

Some times the speeches went on for close to three hours.  The dance segment of the advertised “dinner & dance” was going to be greatly shortened, much to the dismay of –the student nurses and their dates, as the nurses faced a strictly enforced early curfew.

Oh, yes, not to forget another time honoured tradition, the Freshman skit.  The best that could be said for them was that they were short.  Dean Eagles once commented that they seemed much alike, year after year.  This just might have been the consequence of first night jitters and other difficulties which always left the freshman cast short by several players.  Hence the need to draw more "freshmen", in fact anyone, from the audience, minutes before curtain time!  I know because I ended up in three of the skits myself.

At last!  That was music!  Let the dancing begin.  The Commodore had the best dance floor in Vancouver, probably still does.  The music was much more subdued than that of the ''Farmers Frolic", yet somehow the orchestra was persuaded to add a Virginia reel.

Then it was over.  There was a mad dash for the coat check and washrooms.  One year a bunch of us went on to Chinatown, but it was anticlimactic.  Once again it had been a good party but we just had to get those speeches shortened.

 Ray Baynes, Class of 1953