P
refatory
Monday, Oct. 25, 2021: Julia Verklan Maloney
The building is compact with soft red bricks lined in
stone filigree trim. Its beauty lies in the reflective dormer
and casement windows, sprawling alcoves and wooden
rails. Charm and feminine austere is within the patterned
tiling, fanciful garden-scape and coffered ceilings.
Imaginative and luxurious, exclusive and emancipating.
As a female student on campus, the Michigan League
was built for me. It is a building that in its creation offers
the chance of fairness and freedom, two ideologies not
fully realized outside its walls. A building I am trying to
understand.
As I sat at table 5 within the Bentley Historical
Library, I had an agenda. I sought to expose, know and
deconstruct the history of the first women responsible for
the foundation and eventual construction of the Michigan
League through their first-hand accounts. The Bentley,
situated on North Campus, houses 11,000 research
collections to promote the study of the histories of both
the state of Michigan and the University of Michigan
for researchers regardless of academic or professional
affiliation. In front of me sat two foam supports, one plastic
page-turner, a set of blue rubber gloves and a rolling cart
holding 7 dust-proof boxes. The subjects: Ethel Fountain
Hussey, the first president of the Women’s League,
and Mary Bartron Henderson, leader of the Michigan
League’s construction campaign.
As I opened the first box, a waft of mildew escaped
from the cardboard. Inside, there appeared to be over 20
leather-bound agendas with browning pages and gold-
embossed lettering. The remaining 6 boxes contained
nearly the same contents, smell and aura — around 100
agendas and files of correspondence dating from as early
as 1876.
Within the leather binds and manilla folders, sprawled
in purple-typed ink and smeared black fountain pen, there
found are the two key aforementioned names. Hussey
and Henderson dedicated their life efforts to ensure
equal access and recognized existence of co-education
in Ann Arbor. Their work was materially realized and
documented throughout a series of letters, journals,
sketch drawings and recorded skepticism. And it was all
contained within the 7 boxes positioned next to me.
Hussey and Henderson had both the time and
inclination to keep full diaries and threads of
correspondence, each outlining almost every day of their
working and personal lives in Ann Arbor up until their
death. According to the agendas’ prefatory, the purpose of
such extensive documentation was to serve as a guide for
remembrance and a potential keepsake for old age. They
are books that take 5 years to fully fill yet are good for the
next 100. They are letters meant for exchange between
2 people yet are conversations needed for U-M students
everywhere.
Books and letters that exist to inspire and educate, not
to be left dormant in dust-proof boxes.
A
look back in time
Jan. 1, 1890-Sept. 29, 1915: Ethel Fountain
Hussey’s Story
It had been some 70 years since the school’s founding
and only 20 since the first woman, Madelon Stockwell,
was admitted to the University of Michigan. The female
population on campus was rapidly growing.
Yet such a number was ignored and intentionally
isolated. Female students had no designated residence
halls to sleep in, forcing them to rent out local houses. They
had no spaces to gather, denying them the opportunity to
socialize and acclimate.
Seclusion angered Ethel Hussey, wife of astronomy
professor and U-M alum William J Hussey. Although
not a U-M alumna herself, she was engaged in campus
affairs through her husband’s work as a teacher and
acclaimed administrative figure. Although tangential
at first, Hussey’s involvement in campus affairs turned
personal following her external view of gender-based
inequity in Ann Arbor. Considering there was no building
for women to congregate, Hussey felt that female students
were wrongfully stunted intellectually, socially and
athletically— she was sure of it. Such fervor is highlighted
in her diaries, with smeared ink and quick cursive to
outline her intensity. Using her husband’s connection to
administration as leverage, her fiery correspondence to
her male counterparts was to enable female voices beyond
her own.
Hussey’s push for equity was apparent, for she was
unwilling to wait another 70 years for recognition at an
institution pegged as being “progressive.” Eventually,
with the influence of her husband, Ethel’s ferocity led to
the formation of the “Women’s League of the U. of M.” in
October of 1890: A female governing institution to which
she would be elected the first president. It was ultimately
an intangible compromise. Her persistence allowed for
an equitable constitution for all college girls, serving
as a sponsor for meetings, dances and lectures. With a
formally recognized name and clear purpose, the League
was to be a haven and home for the growing population
of female scholars. And while the League’s intention was
grand, it still lacked a physical space — its members met
in a single office in the corner of Barbour Gymnasium. Its
cramped nature may have left enough room for a small
gathering, yet did not provide nearly enough footing for
what was to be the coming generation of female scholars.
Her next objective was simple: supervised and
refined student housing for women in an effort to create
a community on campus followed by a gathering space
big enough to host events, lectures, meetings, dances and
more.
In one of her accounts, Ethel writes:
“The aim is no less personal freedom, but greater
personal comfort, with greater social opportunity and
enjoyment available to the average girl who comes to take
her chance.”
Under the League, she advocated for the establishment
of Martha Cook and Helen Newberry Residence Halls
— a fight she would inevitably win after spearheading
donation campaigns and marketing efforts. Yet it was
no easy triumph. Similar to her earlier campaigns,
she was met with a series of defeated responses from
administrators, outlined financial barriers from the
regents and social hills to climb from the general student
body. From 1909 and onward, Hussey penned countless
letters to University President James B. Angell, donors
and professors pushing for female dormitories — all of her
writings were persistent and bothering.
In 1911, the building plan for Martha Cook Residence
Hall was approved, with its construction ending in 1914.
Her first goal had been achieved despite hardship and
doubt, making way for the achievement of her second —
an ample meeting space for the League. It was a goal to be
left unfulfilled, for Hussey passed away on Sept. 28, 1915.
A formalized space of social opportunity had not broken
ground.
Jan. 1, 1926 -Apr. 26, 1937: Mary Bartron Henderson’s
Story
It had been four years since her first correspondence to
the Board of Regents, seven years since the construction
of the Michigan Union and over a decade since Ethel
Hussey’s passing. Mary Bartron Henderson, U-M
alumna and executive secretary of the Alumnae Council,
was waiting on the approval of a $1 million campaign to
construct a building for women. It was to be the sister
to the Michigan Union and a closing chapter to Ethel’s
objectives.
The Union was built to provide students with
opportunities for academic enhancement and socializing
— a plan that at the time had restricted access on the basis
of gender. Male students and administrators, along with a
door guard, enforced inhibitory policies for female entry,
closing the literal and metaphorical door to opportunity
while offering no alternative. Instead of entering a space
founded upon discriminatory principles, Henderson
instead desired to create and open a new one of her own,
leaving the door open and unrestricted for her succeeding
sisters.
Henderson was relentless, speaking at every event from
director luncheons to national conventions, talking to
anyone who would listen. It was a race to raise $1 million, a
race that was anything but unaided.
To raise funds for the building campaign, some female
students made flapper beads out of lamp pulls to save
change, others double-bunked to rent their rooms out on
football weekends. Leftover savings went to the cause.
Students and alumnae sold small items, including yellow
pillows, “freshies” (cold cream papers), maps and League
playing cards in support. Clara Clemens, daughter of Mark
Twain, toured major Michigan cities performing “Joan of
Arc,” donating the proceeds to Henderson’s movement.
Yet the largest gift for the effort came from U-M Alumni
Mr. Robert P Lamount, offering $100,000 under one
condition: the money was to be used to memorialize
Hussey in the form of a swanky women’s lounge.
And through Henderson’s direction and endless
pursuit of both wealthy contacts and small donation
endeavors, the shovel broke ground in 1927. $1 million had
been raised, the cornerstone had been laid.
The construction of the Michigan League was a
triumphant victory for Ann Arbor women. On May 4,
1929, a new door opened and was propped open for female
students to enter.
Nov. 10, 2021- Onward: The Future Story of U-M
Women Everywhere
Students can find the Hussey Room located on the
second floor of the Michigan League. As a spectator walks
through, they are greeted by portraits of female heroines
like Joan of Arc and Judith lining the walls. At the head
of the room, painted above the wood paneling and lofty
curtains is the mural “Young American Womanhood.”
It is the most prominent and eye-catching painting
in the famed room, stretching across the northern wall.
It depicts a young woman in the 1920s seen in three
semblances: An austere scholar in gown and mortarboard
holding the lamp of knowledge, a steely athlete in tennis
garb and a graceful belle in a gown, holding roses with her
left hand as she extends her right.
When you’re a prospective freshman touring the
University of Michigan, your tour guide will tell you an
anecdote about how wherever you go in the world, you’ll
see a block M. Maybe it’s just new car syndrome, maybe
it’s infectious school spirit, but I have seen this to be true.
Whenever I’m traveling, the ever-recognizable bold block
M invites complete strangers to shout “go blue” in passing,
even when you’re halfway around the world.
Our university’s student body has many epithets. We
are Victors, Valiant. We are the Leaders and the Best. We
are Wolverines. But those are just names — when a person
thinks of the University, they think of the maize block M.
Unlike the University of Michigan, most D1 colleges
have some sort of mascot. The term mascot derived from
an 1880s French opera called “La Mascotte,” loosely
translating to “lucky charm.” In the opera, a struggling
farmer is repeatedly visited by a young girl. In the end, the
farmer produces a bountiful crop, crediting his visitor as a
talisman of good luck.
By the 1900s, the term “mascot” was widely used as a
reference to such talismen. Eventually, the term became
synonymous with the costumed pep squad members who
dance on the sidelines between plays. Our biggest rivals,
the Spartans and the Buckeyes, parade their mascots
across the field at contentious matches to rile up the crowd.
It has been nearly a century since the University
embraced the wolverine as its mascot. In 1923, U-M
football coach Fielding Yost was inspired by a University
of Wisconsin tradition of players carrying along live
badgers when the team entered the stadium. But unlike the
Wisconsin badgers, wolverines are not native to the state
of Michigan.
The school got its mascot from the longstanding
nickname belonging to Michiganders in general. The
origin of this nickname is debated. Yost thought it traced
back to a colonial-era fur trade running out of eastern
Michigan which dealt primarily in wolverine pelts. Others
think it derives from an insult waged against the gluttonous
French settlers or the state’s mischievous soldiers operating
during the Michigan/Ohio border disputes. All of this to
say, there were no wolverines around the state when Yost
went looking in 1923.
Yost contacted 68 different trappers but eventually had
to settle for a taxidermied wolverine named Biff in 1924.
However, after four years of searching, Yost procured a
pair of live wolverines from the Detroit Zoo.
The wolverines, Biff and Bennie, proved too wild for
the school to subdue. The pair of wild animals chewed
through their cages and were aggressive towards the staff,
so they were retired to captivity after just one season. The
University has not had a mascot since.
Even when you acknowledge the historical basis of the
mascot, the wolverine still seems like a unique, if not odd,
choice. The carnivorous mammal is actually a member of
the weasel family, known for its solitary, roaming lifestyle.
It’s not the kind of pack animal you’d expect as a traditional
mascot.
Try to picture a wolverine in your head. It’s probably
brown and furry, with big sharp teeth and claws, but is it
the size of a dog? Is it hunched over? Does it look like this
guy?
Scott Hirth, co-owner and president of The M Den,
believes this unfamiliarity with what a wolverine actually
looks like is part of the reason why the mascot never
materialized.
“A long time ago, it was difficult to get a good drawing of
a wolverine that could turn into an actual mascot,” Hirth
said. “Everybody likes the concept of a wolverine. That’s a
ferocious beast. You certainly want to be thought of that as
how you play on the athletic fields, but in terms of actually
selling products, that has never really moved.”
Regardless, when the University was founded in the
1800s, they took on the state’s moniker of wolverine
without considering its historical or biological justification,
nor its implications on the school’s future branding.
In the 1960s, as our rivals were workshopping foam-
suited jesters to convey their school’s likeness, the
University invited a pair of dogs to perform at halftime.
In the 1980s, students campaigned to establish Willy the
Wolverine as the school’s official mascot. And in 2011,
athletic director David Brandon teased at revisiting the
idea. Needless to say, none of these short-lived efforts have
survived.
The M Den is the official merchandise retailer of
Michigan Athletics. To Hirth, the block M is just as
identifiable a logo as any mascot would be.
“It just speaks to what the University is,” Hirth said.
“A lot of other universities have an official mascot. They
don’t really stick to what classically defines Michigan or
their university, and Michigan has done that from the very
beginning of licensing days.”
***
When I was a kid, my dad would take me to all kinds of
sporting events. We bonded over soft pretzels in between
quarters or frozen lemonade at the seventh-inning stretch.
I didn’t understand any of the rules, but it was exciting, and
I enjoyed the company.
Michigan football was a family affair. My dad and
his dad would pack up the Sedan with M-printed seat
cushions and rain ponchos. My brother and I would deck
ourselves head to toe in maize and blue. The whole family
would complain about traffic over the sound of pre-game
radio as we drove to Ann Arbor.
Sometimes we would stop at my cousins’ tailgate outside
the steps of the Big House. My brother and I would giggle
as our dad chanted “you suck” along with the student
section. And after the game, we were rewarded with one
item from The M Den.
I remember sprinting from the stadium to beat the post-
game rush, roaming through the labyrinth of coat racks
amid a sea of navy blue. Many of those items were nearly
identical to the ones hanging on the same racks a decade
later.
Hirth spent his childhood in The M Den, just like me.
When Hirth was 10, his father opened up The M Den with
a partner. Hirth and his other co-owners worked in the
store their whole lives. After he graduated from the Ross
School of Business, Hirth and his partners, Julie Corrin
and Steve Horning, took The M Den over in 2013.
Hirth said that the U-M branding has stayed
consistent over the years. The best-sellers are always
navy shirts or sweatshirts with the block M or block
Michigan lettering. Hirth called these his favorite
products — alongside a specialty Swiss watch which is
more of a unique item.
In recent years, the “sailor vault logo,” which Hirth
describes as “kind of like a bear with a sailor hat on,” has
risen in popularity. Hirth attributed this phenomenon to
the logo’s licensing becoming looser within the last five
years, allowing for companies like Nike and Champion
to begin putting it on their designs. Hirth now calls it
the “number three logo” behind the traditional lettering
options.
Yet in Hirth’s experience, other items with wolverine
iconography don’t sell as well as the classics.
“It’s not like we haven’t tried to carry different looks over
the years,” Hirth said. “The word wolverines almost never
appears on Michigan products and if it does, it usually
doesn’t sell as well. That’s just the way the merchandise
world is — very, very consistent over time.”
The M Den is unique in the collegiate athletics
retailing industry. For one, it gets colder in Michigan
than it does down south, meaning that Hirth’s team has
to stock t-shirts for August and jackets for November.
The M Den is also an exclusive partner with Michigan
Athletics, so it has to ensure that all locations — the
stadium, the mall, downtown, online — stay stocked
through the year. Not to mention, there is the issue of
not having a mascot.
“Everybody else has a mascot,” Hirth said. “Yes, to
a degree, we have that sailor vault guy that everybody
loves, but it is fundamentally a different game in this
industry.”
Whereas other schools’ retailers will produce two
batches of any clothing item or tchotchke, one with the
mascot and another with the school name, U-M can only
partake in the latter.
Still, Hirsh said that the basics — the maize lettering
on a navy background — “warm his heart.” There is a
special unifying message in adorning the same block M
my dad wore when he was on campus, and his dad before
him. Every few years, we swap in a limited variation
acknowledging our latest championship win, but for the
most part it remains exactly the same.
The University is a pretty old school, being that it was
among the first public universities founded in the United
States. It’s impressive that our public image has remained
steadfast for so many years, even if the wolverine mascot is
just a passing thought.
“Just like there’s no advertising in our football stadium,
we don’t have a mascot,” Hirth said. “I think it works for
who Michigan is.”
***
In the past, the University’s athletics department has
dismissed the idea of a mascot, calling it “unnecessary
and undignified,” and arguing it “would not properly
reflect the spirit and values of Michigan athletics.” The
department did not respond to requests for comment on
this story.
The University walks a fine line between two
competing realms of collegiate philosophy: education and
enrichment. People choose their college based on whether
they’d like to work or whether they’d rather just have fun.
The University holds a unique position in American higher
education, with a decorated reputation for both athletics
and academics.
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
6 — Wednesday, November 10, 2021
S T A T E M E N T
It’s great to be a Michigan Wolverine: Exploring the history of U-M’s mascot hesitancy
MELANIE TAYLOR
Statement Correspondent
Of apples and trees
and Wolverines
LILLY DICKMAN
Statement Correspondent
When comparing myself to my mother, I can confidently
claim that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. As far as
mother-daughter pairs go, we’re about as similar as they
come. We love to laugh, and we share the same quick-witted,
self-deprecating sense of humor. We’re both anxious and
right-brained people, operating on the “up-tight” side of the
Type A-Type B spectrum. We’re curious and ambitious.
We’re the lightest sleepers, and when we get hiccups, they last
for weeks. We have a fascination with Hollywood, film and
television. We like to complain. We love to write. We value
friendships and family. We grew up in the same town. And
last, but certainly not least, we’re both Michigan Wolverines.
It’s as if I’m a carbon copy of my mother roaming the streets
of Ann Arbor, just 30 years later. The phenomenon makes for a
great experiment. If she and I are the control variable, then the
year is the independent variable, and the climate, the times,
and the campus culture is the dependent variable. I couldn’t
help but wonder what has changed since my mom was the
one frequenting the Big House, the Shapiro Undergraduate
Library and Pizza House. I wondered how those changes will
shape and mold two similar people differently.
The first step to answering this question was pretty
simple: I called my mom and started with the basics.
“What was your favorite place to study when you were
here?”
“The Law Library.” Me too.
“Favorite late-night snack?”
“Pizza at Brown Jug.” Ah — for me it’s pizza at Joe’s.
“Favorite spot on campus?”
“The Diag and the Big House.” Me too.
“Studying before the sun rises or after it sets?”
“Before it rises.” Me too.
I could see already that she and I were on similar pages
in 1986 and 2021, and that not too much had changed in
Ann Arbor to account for that. Digging deeper, I asked my
mom about her major, her academic aspirations and the
opportunities provided to her when she was a Wolverine.
“I majored in political science because I wanted to go
to law school, although I don’t think I knew why,” she
reflected. “I was an English minor because I loved that —
I loved writing — but I didn’t want to be a journalist and I
didn’t understand how I could otherwise support myself as
a writer.”
I’m similar to my mom in that I love writing and being
creative yet don’t necessarily know what I’ll do with that
passion after college. However, it seems like a couple
aspects of modern-day Michigan, if not modern day in
general, will hopefully better guide me and make me way
more equipped to find a satisfying career so that I don’t
have to latch onto a pre-law track like my mom did.
For Michigan women everywhere
JULIA VERKLAN MALONEY
Statement Associate Editor
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
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