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 Design by Sojung-Ham, Riley Montgomery | Page Design by Sarah Chung