Willett interview

[Begin Tape 2, Side 1]

Warren: This is tape two with Anne Farrar Willett, October 29, 1996, Mame Warren

doing the interview.

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Willett:  You had just asked me about the children growing up, and I was saying it

was almost idyllic. And it was. It was a simpler time, and that part of it was

wonderful. But I do remember the years they were students at W&L. At times that was

a bit of a challenge, because the last thing I wanted to be was a hovering mother. So the

boys, of course, as freshman, lived in the dorm, and then they lived at the SAE House

their sophomore year. Then they branched out as students were beginning to do then

with groups of friends, had places in the country. You know how they do and

commute.

I tend to be sometimes rather outspoken when I'm aroused. Student behavior

was one of the hot spots. Jimmy may have even told you about a student yelling once,

and I immediately marched up to W&L, reported this vile language that I had heard—I

have to laugh now—which is nothing compared to what we just take in stride now.

And that boy apologized and apologized.

But I remember I was going on. I was in a hurry and had the gal, an old lady

really, who helped me sometimes, she's in the car with me. She almost had a heart

attack. As we came into Main Street, a car of Washington and Lee, a group of students

was just flying down Main. They were on their way out to Zolman's Pavilion. And he

just flew down the street right—I guess it's Shenandoah Road. But, anyway, all of a

sudden, to my horror, a grapefruit landed right in the middle of my windshield and

went "splat!" and this poor woman screamed, my passenger, who was terrified. I was

just—it's a wonder I really didn't have an accident. Just went flying on by. And I just

saw red. It was as if it was my own boys and, for all I knew, one of them in the car very

well could have been.

But I turned that car around on a dime and thought, "I'll find out who did this,"

and followed this car out there, only to find that the police had gotten him before I got

there. And I looked and there was Jimmy's best friends, the boys from the SAE House,

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who were equally horrified to see me, that it was my car that they had thrown the

grapefruit at and hit. Well, he's still apologizing some twenty years later. [Laughter]

Warren: Good for him. He learned a lesson.

Willett:     Well, I learned to be a little more careful, because I sort of put blinders on,

because for all I knew, it was one of my own sons could very well have heaved the

grapefruit.

But they were fun years. We really enjoyed them, because their friends and their

friends' parents became close friends. And, of course, they were the years when the

lacrosse team was hot stuff.

Warren: You had quite a star there.

Willett:     Hot stuff. And just had this wonderful group, parents who went to every

game and became, as I just said, very close. We had a big party on Parents Weekend on

the Friday night always after the—there would be a reception in the dining hall. The

only time we could squeeze in a party would be after that at our house. So many

alumni were so gracious to Jim, and he would want to entertain them, because in his

travels when he was recruiting, often he would stay with some of these guys. So it was

really a great, huge addition to our lives when we had the boys, and they were so

happy at W&L and wonderful experiences for them.

Jimmy played football. I can remember saying, "Jimmy, wouldn't you like to

have some of the boys, have them come out for supper Friday night or whatever?"

He'd say, "Yeah." Of course, boys that age are very casual.

And I'd say, "Well, just tell me how many do you think."

He said, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe forty or maybe, I don't know, maybe ten."

I mean—and you want to be with it, so I would just say, "Oh, okay. Sure." You

know, I'd just go with the flow. [Laughter]

And Thanksgiving, there would always be a few boys who didn't go home for

one reason or another, you know, the press of a term paper or something. So we'd

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always have four or five boys there, friends of Jimmy's and Scotty's. Of course, we

would have the turkey and all of that. And then I'd feel that I'd no sooner cleaned up

the kitchen and, of course, they would immediately take their plates and rush to see the

football game, because there was always big games all day. And they would all be in

front of the TV all day. Then before I could recover from lunch, you know, the boys

would say, "Mom, isn't there any turkey for a sandwich?" So it would be that all. But I

wouldn't take anything in the world for the relationship we had with those boys. It was

a big part of our lives.

Then as I think I've said to you, Scotty's junior year he came home. I was

upstairs and I heard, "Mom?" I thought, "God, does he need money again?" You know,

that was the only time they were home and had dirty laundry or what. I went down

and said, "Hi."

And he said, "Hi. Is it okay if I go to school in Hong Kong next year?"

Once again, you don't want to, "Do what?" I can remember that conversation

and me saying, "Well, I don't know. Let's talk to your father when he comes home."

[Laughter] Long enough to give myself a chance to recover.

Of course, he did go and was very maturing, lonely, I think a good bit of time.

Every once in a while, I think after a few beers, some of his SAE buddies would call him

on the other side of the world and, of course, harass him and tell him they were on their

way to Hollins and just wanted to tell him. Hope he was having fun at Chung Chi.

So we had varied experiences and, on the whole, very happy times.

Warren: So let's talk about happy times that are uniquely Washington and Lee

happy times. Fancy Dress.

Willett:  Fancy Dress.

Warren: You've probably been to more Fancy Dresses than almost anybody.

Willett: Oh! You make me feel like— [Laughter]

Warren: Did you go year after year?

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Willett:     Oh, yeah.

Warren: Well, I'm working on catching up with you. I never plan to miss a Fancy

Dress.

Willett:     I've got a picture, I think, for you of Fancy Dress of '53, maybe. Now, you

asked me if I had pictures. We never could remember to take the camera or whatever,

and we didn't have Pat Hinely photographing everything. That just wasn't done in

those days, unfortunately. But, yes, Fancy Dress comes to mind. They were always fun.

Jim was known in those years as the boy dean, because, you know, there were still

students in school whom he'd known. And you realize, this was a mixed-up post-war

crowd. You found yourself in class with students—your classmates were some much

younger and some older.

        Bob Huntley, for example, he wasn't in the service. He was a freshman, I guess,

as I remember it, when we came back. Jim having graduated in '49, Bob was a

sophomore at the Delta House. They were fraternity brothers. But there was this age

difference.

Warren: Did you come to Fancy Dress as a student from Randolph-Macon?

Willett:     Uh-huh.

Warren: Well, let's talk about that first.

Willett:     Well, the first time I came, I was a senior in high school, and my father

was dead-set against it, not to mention my mother, that I was too young to go to a

college dance. This would have been like in February of my senior year. Well, the boy

who had invited me was a freshman. This would have been '43. The boys hadn't even

left en masse for service. He was too young. I guess I was sixteen and he was eighteen,

I suppose. He was a friend, a W&L friend of a friend, boy, I'd grown up with and gone

to school with a year ahead of me and he was now a freshman. So this friend of his had

invited me to come, and my parents were saying, "Certainly not." And I was begging

and pleading and everything, dying to go, of course.

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         My mother, when she had come to Washington and Lee and VMI dances in her
youth, had stayed at Miss Lizzie Graham's. Miss Lizzie took student dates. And she
lived right over near the VMI gates. So finally it was decided, "All right. If you can stay
at Miss Lizzie Graham's, you may go." Well, as it turned out, what they didn't know
was that by then Miss Lizzie was very old. She had lost most of her sight. She had no
idea of who came and went when. She no longer ruled or sat in her parlor and checked
the girls in, I guess.

         So I just had a marvelous time, and it was quite unlike going to a high school
dance in Lynchburg. I'll never forget walking into the ATO House, which was this
boy's fraternity in those days. It's now Seven Hills. It was a very handsome fraternity
house. I remember walking in. I was just ga-ga. I was so green. I knew I didn't belong
there. I was so unsophisticated, trying to be very cool. I remember we walked into the
hall and there was nobody. There were no students around in the living room. And
somebody said, "Oh, go on up. Everybody's upstairs." And I just nearly fainted. I
thought, "Upstairs?" Having been told, I'm sure by my mother and my father that I was
to do this and not do that and whatever.

         Well, it turned out that, of course, I became quite accustomed to that. What they
were doing, they had a big galvanized tub in the middle of the hall upstairs and they
had beer in there, and they were all just partying and, you know, everything was
perfectly safe. There were house mothers, so everything was just as it should be. But it
was an eye-opener to me. That was my first. And this boy was so nice and he knew my
parents. I'm told he did his serious partying after he had dropped me off at Miss Lizzie
Graham's. [Laughter]

         But then I went off to college after that. And, you know, the funny wrinkle there
is then I met Frank at Georgia Tech, and life at Georgia Tech was much like life at
Washington and Lee. So for those two years that's where I was, then came back to
Randolph-Macon my junior year, because my family had close Randolph-Macon ties

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and wanted their two daughters to graduate from there. In those days, there was much

more transferring than there is now, I suspect. It had been decided that Agnes Scott

would be very good preparation, and I would get a good basis, a good base, and come

back to Randolph-Macon, which I did. And then that was different, because all the

boys then were coming back after the war. It was crazy, mixed-up. These were vets

then. You know, they had fought in the Battle of the Bulge and all kinds of things. So

now they're back in school. It was a little poignant, because some didn't come back.

But we had a great time. All my friends in Lynchburg, girls I'd grown up with,

we were just having a marvelous time, because everybody we knew suddenly was

back. There was gas then and we could all drive and come over to W&L or VMI, as the

case were. And boys, many of them, were trying to make up for lost time. So it was a

loose, happy time, and faculty, I think, in both places were understanding. You know,

VMI, in particular, it was pretty hard to keep a boy locked up in barracks when he had

landed at Anzio.

So it was an interesting time. I can remember some physical, some disabilities as

a result of the war among these young boys.

Warren: Did you go to Fancy Dress the bicentennial year?

Willett:  Oh, yes.

Warren: 1949?

Willett:  Yes. Jim invited me. I came to Fancy Dress with him, yeah. I'm trying to

remember whether we dressed up. I came to Fancy Dress and—it's funny, I don't

remember. I remember distinctly coming a couple of years later when we came back.

So that would have been '49. We were married in '50. And then by '52 or '53, we were

back. And I remember that more vividly.

I really don't remember Fancy Dress of '49 too well. The faculty chaperoned. I

remember going up to speak to the Gilliams, but I don't remember much about—and I

remember there was a party that night. People used to go watch the sunrise over on the

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footbridge. I remember that. I don't know why I don't remember the dance that night,

the ball, as clearly. I remember things going on around it, and I remember going and

watching the sunrise and the band, part of the band. You'd have a combo from

whoever. The orchestra that had played for the dance would go and, you know, just a

jazz session kind of thing down at the far end of the footbridge toward the stadium.

And lots of people would straggle on over, and it was fun. You know, everybody

thought it was daring to stay up all night and watch the sun come up over there and the

band playing. I don't know. Maybe they still do that. Because Fancy Dress is now a big

time.

Warren: Well, hasn't it always been a big time?

Willett:  It was the social event of the South, yeah. It pleases me to see they really

get into it and the decorations and all of that. Of course, the gym, the old gym, was not

exactly the most elegant place in the world, but it certainly served its purpose.

       As a matter of fact, I think '49 may have been the year of the blizzard. You check

the records. One of the Fancy Dress years, and it may have been that one, I don't think

it was canceled, but there was a huge blizzard, because I can remember my friends at

Randolph-Macon, everybody wringing their hands whether we were going to get over

the mountain.

Warren: Wow, that would be—

Willett:  Oh, it was a crisis. Major crisis. Maybe that's why I have just a vague

recollection of the ball. But, anyway, you look it up and see.

Warren: I will. I didn't know that.

Willett:  And I will dig out that picture of '53. I remember we were all dressed up.

White tie. I think, maybe, Jim had a white tie and tails.

Warren: Oh, I must see that. I must see that. So through the years, how did Fancy

Dress change?

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Willett:  Well, I think we went and we probably got burned out. I mean, we went

and went and went to everything. And now when I see Kitty, my daughter-in-law, and

whom you know, struggling to balance everything and particularly with Jimmy

responsible for a lot of what's going on—but it was just expected. We saw it sort of as

our duty, really. There was no resentment of the fact that, "Hey, gosh, I ought to be

getting paid for this."

I must say I enjoyed it. I didn't feel put upon that I was supposed to be there or

be in a receiving line or be doing something, helping. There wasn't any of that. It was

just part of our life. I guess, too, you have to enjoy all these people, and Jim knew them

all and thoroughly enjoyed them. And at that time, some of them had known his father.

Back to what I said earlier, I always enjoyed the fact that we were all different ages. I

think we would have missed a lot if your life is just go to work and go home, go to

work and go home. We thought we were really lucky.

Warren: I thought the most charming thing about Fancy Dress was that socializing,

getting all dressed up and going and socializing with people of all ages and all status. I

have good friends in Buildings and Grounds, and there they all were all dressed up.

Willett:  Oh, yes.

Warren: And that was wonderful.

Willett:  Well, now Buildings and Grounds is something that went through my

head a while ago. I think I alluded to them once, and I thought briefly that I want to

come back to tell you. You obviously have had the opportunity now, and you have

been sensitive to the fact that Buildings and Grounds—we call it Buildings and

Grounds—was such a valued part of the Washington and Lee family.

Warren: Talk about that.

Willett:  Oh, Jim thought the Buildings and Grounds guys were it. He would no

more have overlooked one of these guys or asked them to do anything that would be an

imposition. He thought they made the place work, and, of course, he was right. And, I

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mean, he wasn't the only one who felt that way. Buildings and Grounds always came

to graduation. I mean, they not only put up all the chairs and did all of that, but they

stayed and thoroughly enjoyed it. I say this not in a light way of "we" and "them" or

"us." I just can't tell you the affection and respect, I keep saying that Jim felt. Well, that

was, of course, that was my experience. But everybody had that feeling.

Warren: There isn't much "us" and "them" at Washington and Lee.

Willett:    No. No. When there was that recent flap, I was just aghast, and I thought,

"Oh, thank God Jim is spared this." You know, had it become a greater flap than it did.

It just would have devastated him and many others who over the years had felt that

way, and I know from my own son's attitude that it's still there.

Warren: Very much so. I think that that was a quirk that happened.

Willett:    Yeah. Yeah. It was not typical. It was not typical at all of W&L.

Something we just said I meant to come back to. I've forgotten. I'll think of it in a

minute. Along those same lines. But, yes, people all got dressed up and went.

Warren: And everybody just parties together and has a great time.

Willett:    Yeah. I think the Christmas party at W&L, that's an innovation that has

come since our time.

I guess I was about to say the time did come when it got a little old. You know,

you do get to the point you think, "Oh." I can't say that in later years we went to every

single one of them. And then our children, too, as they came along, I didn't really want

to be looking over their shoulders all the time. So we kind of didn't do quite as much, I

guess, as we did when we were much younger. The Mock Conventions were part of

our lives.

Warren: That's my next question. Tell me about Mock Convention.

Willett:    Oh, gosh. I sensed from the little I saw here on CNN that everybody

went, went to everything. I remember Jim had what he called Sport Central at our

house where he framed all these athletic pictures of not just of our children but his good

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buddies, certain students. The news office would give him these prints, football shots,

lacrosse, and all that. He stuck them up in our utility room, which he called Sports

Central. And to this day, some of those guys will ask me, "What did you ever do with

Sports Central?" It's still in boxes probably at Jimmy's house. Among that were letters

from like Richard Nixon thanking Jim, because his advanced guys would come.

Anybody who was coming, not just Nixon, but any of the big speakers.

As a matter of fact, we were standing in the balcony of the old gym when Alvin

Barkley dropped dead. Standing right across, looking right down at him, right directly

across from him. Again, everybody went to everything. Who took that picture of—

wasn't Frank. Frank Parsons. I'll think after a while who. I may or may not remember.

John Jennings. John Jennings took it, now in journalism. He was a student, and he had

his camera and clicked it. Life bought it, I think, or something. Anyway—

Warren: So what's the picture?

Willett:  Alvin Barkley, you know, dropped dead.

Warren: Yeah.

Willett:  Right there on the podium, and he had just finished staying, "I'd rather"—

what's the verse from the Bible? "Than sit in this seat of the Mighty." And with that, he

dropped dead. I remember Jim turning to me and saying, "Quick, we've got to—I'll get

the car. I'll go down and see if we can take Mrs. Barkley over to the hospital or

something." And I remember thinking, "Oh, no." Remember, I had then—I don't think

I had three, I had two young children. The car was just full of junk and all the children's

gear. There was hardly any place to—I remember we got Mrs. Barkley in the car and he

roared off and left me standing on the sidewalk, which was fine. But that was more

appropriate. I had all the mess that you have when you've got children in the back of a

station wagon.

But we didn't miss much, you know. When I think back and the letters, you

know, the children would get a kick out of the letters being from [Barry] Goldwater and

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thanking Jim for maybe having picked him up in Roanoke at the airport. I mean,

everybody pitched in. Again, I'd forgotten about that. You just did what—somebody,

"Jim, could you pick up So-and-so?" It was just that kind of life. It wasn't as structured

as it is now. We didn't have student helpers. What's the group that—

Warren: [Unclear].

Willett:  Yeah. So all of them came through, all of the political figures. CONTACT

was just starting in those years. [Barry] Goldwater spoke, and we all thought

Goldwater was the bogeyman. If you read the newspapers, you thought he was going

to hit the button and blow up the world. Just as there were William Faulkner and—

what's the very distinguished black writer? He was the first, as far as I know—you

could check me on this; Frank would know—the first black speaker, maybe, in Lee

Chapel. Who wrote The Invisible Man?

Warren: Ralph Ellison?

Willett:  Yeah. You check with Frank. I think it was Ralph Ellison. I wouldn't

want to be held to that, but I remember he was probably the first. Could that be? I

think it may have been.

Warren: I don't know the answer to that.

Willett:  Well, you see, again, Jim could have told you everything he said. But all

these people came through and there we were, sitting there. Some benefitted more than

others. I'm a good example. I didn't benefit as much as I should. I can't remember it

all. But I think it might have been Ellison speaking to this audience, you know, who

were shocked that they were sitting there listening.

I remember when Duke Ellington came. It happened to be at VMI. I was

introduced to him, and I didn't know whether to shake hands with him or not. This

would have been in '51. I didn't quite know how to—I did, but I remember going

thinking, "What do I do?" And I've often wondered where they stayed. I suppose after

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that gig, after they played, any of the black musicians, they just moved on, because

there certainly was no place for them to stay in Lexington.

Warren: That's an excellent question. That's an excellent question.

Willett:  Unless they stayed at—you know, we had a wonderful black community.

Again, the black community in Lexington was much a part of university life, because

there were so many who worked in Buildings and Grounds. Their jobs were certainly

menial, but when you look at it from another point of view, they were permanent jobs

and worked for, as Jim would say, first-class people. There was a warm relationship, I

think I could really say in all honesty, because we had many black friends. And when

Jim died, John Elrod said to me after his funeral, "I couldn't believe how many black

people were there." You've got to remember that Jim was—remember his barber cut his

hair when he was a student, and he was devastated by his death. And then he became a

house boy at the Delta House. I guess he did both. He learned to barber.

       So little changed in a little town like—I guess I'm going to use the word I'm

hesitant to use, but perhaps Lexington was unique in that way. How do I know? That

was only my experience. I can't say it was really unique, but certainly there were not

many communities like that. Academic? Do you think it would be that because the

only two games in town were academic, there was more a collegial feeling? I don't

know.

Warren: Are there any particular people in the black community whom you think

would be good to interview?

Willett:  I'm sure there are. So many whom I knew well are gone now, the ones

that rush to my mind. But, yes, and I'll think about that, and my son, Jimmy, will know

exactly the answer to that. Yes, as a matter of fact, Napoleon.

Warren: I've got him on my list. I've already talked to him.

Willett:  All right. He comes to mind. And Jimmy would be able to tell you

whether there are any others.

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Warren: Any women?

Willett:      Of course, Dolly, his wife. But those who worked, the one who I wish you

could have talked to, is gone. She worked for people in town, but she cleaned W&L

offices at four o'clock in the morning before she—so there were people like that. There

may still be. I don't know whether Page—she was a woman who did a lot of parties.

I'd have to find out. I don't know whether she's still there, still living that is.

Warren: Let's talk about coeducation.

Willett:      Oh. Yeah. Well, you know that Davidson co-educated ten years before

we did. It was a tremendous problem to my husband, who knew it had to happen.

Remember, this is his university that he loved more than anything in the world, and he

did not want change for the sake of change. There was no gimmick. But there were

those, again, this conservative board, who thought that, "Oh, it's just a passing fad,

coeducation." And, again, the old argument, "General Lee's college, how could we

possibly handle women? He would never have done that."

Remember, he was interviewing, going to high school nights, going to secondary

schools everywhere, and he would come back and tell me how students would stop and

want to talk about Washington and Lee, if this was a big gathering, as high schools had

and still have, I guess, college night kinds of things. They would look at the literature

and then say, "All male? Forget it," and move on. In the meantime, Davidson and

others were interviewing, accepting women, and accepting male students who wanted

coeducation.

He tracked applicants over the years. If an applicant was offered admission and

declined, he always followed up with a questionnaire asking them to please let us know

why did you choose not to come to W&L. And over and over the overriding reasons

were—well, three come to mind, I think, that were predominate. One was, "I have two

brothers. My father can't afford to send me. I'm going to UVA, the state school."

Second was often, "I want an urban. I've decided I don't want Lexington. I want to go

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to school nearer a big city." And then, of course, there was, "I want coeducation. I don't

want an all-male school."

Now, there are young men Jimmy's age right here on this mountain, alumni who

tell me, "Well, you know, it was ruined." They're most critical of the coeducation and of

John Wilson's courageous decision to improve the fraternity houses. And I'm thinking

of one young man here who's—well, he's in his forties now. He's a young man to me. I

just can't believe he's still objecting. It may be that he just doesn't want to send money.

I don't know. But he's objecting still to those two things.

But, anyway, coeducation, of course, was just critical, and it was so hard to get

alumni to understand. And poor John Wilson. The abuse. It was one of the happiest

days of Jim's life when the board made that decision, as close as the vote was. He felt

that W&L was at a crossroads and that its excellence was becoming constantly weaker.

Of course, alumni didn't want to hear that, because we could still fill the beds. And

they would say, "We don't need it." Well, you know, you could fill the beds, but you

certainly could not be selective. And the faculty, our pride and joy, the jewel of

Washington and Lee is this marvelous faculty we've always had, well, they weren't

going to stay around and just educate—you know, they'd be gone. So it was a tough—

boy, feelings ran high.

Warren: Tell me about that day. Where were you the day of the decision?

Willett:  Oh, we were just waiting. As soon as—I can't remember who called. It

may have come over the radio. We jumped right in the car. Jim went right straight to

the president's house to embrace John Wilson and congratulate him.

Warren: Did you go, too?

Willett:  Yeah.

Warren: Tell me about that. Describe it to me.

Willett:  Oh, it was so emotional, right in the driveway. You can imagine John just

drained, though Anne always said he has a tough hide. Oh, it had to have been—and

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then, of course, the abuse poured in, that he wanted to change it. He did it in an

underhanded way. Of course he didn't.

You know, nothing succeeds like success. It gradually subsided, and then all of a

sudden the most violently opposed alumnus is writing about his darling daughter.

[Laughter] So it took a while. But it was, as I say, a very emotional time. We just

happened to have been just thrilled to death, because it was better for the university.

And the difference immediately, because, of course, that first group of girls, they had

such guts, first of all, and they were a very interesting—I'm sure you've talked to some

of them.

Warren: Tell me about them.

Willett:  There's one I would like to tell you about that you would enjoy talking to.

It was she who pointed out to me that they were such a different group. They weren't

your typical—they didn't have the kind of relation—I think what she said, as I

remember it now—I hadn't thought about it in so long—she was telling me that dorm

life, it wasn't just a bunch of buddies living together. They all were very different, and

they were chosen because they were different. They had a strong bond because they

were the first crowd, but they weren't all warm and fuzzy, as I think she put it, together.

They were different. There were some who were athletic and some who were musical

and some who were this and some who were that. But they, of course, took

tremendous pride in the fact that they were the first class.

But Washington and Lee students, the only thing I can say in defense of the boys

who were seniors and who had heard all of this going on most of their college career,

you know, are we or aren't we, the class—I forget now, the class of '84, maybe—

anyway, the senior, you know, over and over it was said that the quality of the student

body was not as good as it had been. And I think Bill Hartog would tell you right now

that it still, in spite of all of the success, has not reached the level of, I think it was the

class—he has paid many tributes to the quality of the class of '64, '65. You know a lot of

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them—Buck Ogilvie. A lot of those guys who've come through. I can hardly speak of
him right now without emotion. He just died. Oh, God. I'll come back to it in a
minute. I know it just as well as I know my own name. Mason Newt. He was part of
that era. He was a trustee who just died a few weeks ago in Richmond. These men
now, I don't think anybody would question they were the strongest. Many of them
played football on that Lee McLaughlin team that was number one in the country of
small colleges. It was just a real high point, high water mark in quality in every way.
And then it began, for the reasons I just gave, to slowly, slowly, slowly drop off. If it
were your livelihood and you were in charge, you saw it and were very sensitive to it.
But if you didn't understand it and were able to see that we still had large numbers
decline, you weren't seeing that the quality was gradually eroding, and that was what
was hard to sell.

         So that class of young men who were in those last classes in the eighties just
before the first women came in probably were very self-conscious and felt they'd been
abused and run down, you know, as if they were dummies. Of course, they weren't.
But it certainly wasn't a class that you could compare to those classes at our high water
mark in the sixties, early seventies.

         So the girls had to then take a lot of that resentment. You know, there were
teeshirts that really were crude. It was a tough time, but they survived, and more and
more girls were—and I remember our friends, our colleagues and friends on the faculty
who talked about the difference in the demeanor of the students. Like it or not, these
were bright girls who were brought in, and they were a big-time challenge, those who
had been admitted and as they came in, big-time challenge to the boys.

         Jim used to get such a kick out of seeing them all sitting in the car, good friends
sitting there talking about class and that kind of camaraderie which he felt was so
healthy and so to be desired, so much better given to changes in society and, you know,

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the need for them to go to school together, because they were going to have work

together.

So it was, from our point of view, extremely exciting. And then when Episcopal

High School co-educated some years later, he said, "Just watch. It's going to be a mirror

image." Because it was a small all-male, high-quality academically, and it has been, it's

just been a mirror image. Their student body has gotten a lot larger, and I don't think

anybody has really wanted our student body—I've never heard anybody say they

wanted it to double or become quite large. And I feel for the board. They've had a lot

of hard decisions to make that have to do with how we're going to balance the men and

women.

The only negatives—and I think about this sometimes, particularly in

development, I've seen some interesting examples of success. When women leave, their

name changes, for one thing, when they marry and go away, and it's harder to track

your constituency. That's a challenge. And the other thing is that men have always

made the philanthropic gifts.

Warren: It's going to be interesting to see when they start coming.

Willett:   Yeah. But some of these young women already are becoming very

successful in their own careers.

Warren: They sure are.

Willett:   And are making significant gifts. And I think the fact that this thing that's

been instituted through the Alumni Association where the senior class makes a gift to

the university is going to be enormously helpful in focusing. They leave here knowing

that—and I imagine the numbers are increasing, and one difference is going to be that

they're going to split. The gifts may be smaller because, let's say, a couple, he went to

Davidson and let's say that she went to Washington and Lee and they're going to split

their gift. It's going to be two gifts.

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Warren: They're going to have to encourage more romances at Washington and

Lee, aren't they?

I'm going to flip the tape over.