Funny, after all this time, how often I’m reminded of things that occurred during my early years at then-SMS.
For example, the University’s recent estimate that 78 percent of the current student body receives some sort of financial aid struck a resounding positive chord. Each year, according to the office of financial aid, more than $130 million is expended in the form of scholarships, grants, loans, work study or a combination of those.
It wasn’t that way back when we were SMS students. Scholarships and financial aid were limited, to say the least. The G.I. Bill, of course, was a boon to thousands. Also, the valedictorian from each high school in the then-32-county SMS district qualified for a scholarship that paid incidental fees ($21 a term) for one year. For the most part that was it, although there was a sprinkling of work-study programs, mostly for athletes. There were no athletic scholarships yet. The college was not affiliated with the NCAA until the late 1950s.
But even in “our day,” Missouri State was a bargain. And it’s good to note that it is still, especially considering that fees are lower than state and national averages, and room and board costs are among the lowest in the state.
My first thought upon reading the info about student aid: “Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished.” Which, in turn, reminded me of Hamlet’s most famous of all soliloquies, Dr. Virginia Craig’s unforgettable rendition of same, the derring-do of the mayor of Blue Eye (no kidding), and a most unusual example of financial aid.
As I remember, an incident linking Hamlet’s “To Be or Not to Be” speech to the mayor of Blue Eye occurred Monday following Homecoming my sophomore year. During her 2 p.m. class, Craig gave us a dramatic portrayal (as was her wont) of Hamlet’s wrenching lamentation. It must have lasted 10 minutes and shifted continuously and with dramatic flair from one side of classroom A-42 to the other. That evening, a group of us were in The Standard office rehashing Homecoming, the Bears’ loss on the gridiron, the parade, and yes, Craig’s pulsating “consummation devoutly to be wished.”
At that juncture, a cub reporter — who seldom uttered a word — said if he could be anybody in the world for one day, it would be the mayor of Blue Eye.
Let me explain. At that time, there was an SMS upperclassman who had a blue convertible (or was it green?). At Homecoming, he would drape a “Mayor of Blue Eye” sign on the side of his car, load the vehicle with gorgeous, screaming sorority women, and cut into the parade somewhere around the Hotel Moran, all the while cheering mightily for the Football Bears. “That,” proclaimed the cub reporter, “is a consummation devoutly to be wished…”
As for an unusual example of student aid: In the mid ’50s a young SMS history prof, taking part in his first fall term registration in the field house, was engaged in the enrollment process when Dr. Walter Cralle, head of the sociology department, tapped him on the shoulder and asked: “Does your wife like turnips?”
Responded the young prof: “I don’t know, why?”
Replied Cralle: “There is a young man here from Wright County who’s a few dollars shy of having enough money to register. What he does have is a pickup load of turnips, which he is selling for 50 cents apiece. I put you down for six.”
Years later, then-President Duane Meyer said it was the most unusual type of financial aid he’s experienced.
See what happens when a mid-20th-century graduate happens on to info about 21st-century financial aid?
Don Payton, ’50, is former information services director at Missouri State University. Now retired, Payton continues to write for the University and area publications.
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