When Ohio University’s current students look back on their college years, they might remember tuition protests, wild fests and a visit from President Barack Obama. But other people who have come and gone — or, in some cases, stayed — in Athens instead think of cruising through campus by boat in the ’60s, or National Guardsmen silencing wartime riots on Court Street back when it boasted only a handful of bars.
’40s-’50s: Overcoming the wartime crises
A glimpse into Uptown Athens circa 1940 would reveal theaters in place of today’s popular bars, hotels rather than restaurants and department stores that have since been transformed into apartments and parking lots. But with the emigration of men owing to the Second World War, women were left to roam the bricks alone.
When Walter Sylvester Gamertsfelder became president of OU in 1943, the school was in great turmoil. Most male students chose the same track as Gamertsfelder’s predecessor, Herman Gerlach James, who resigned to “participate directly in the war effort.”
Classes were shrunken, some were cut completely, and female students outnumbered males five to one. During the last two years of James’ presidency, enrollment dropped by 240 percent.
“It was virtually a women’s college,” said Charles J. Ping, former OU president. “The campus really came together as a university when John Baker came.”
The year before John Calhoun Baker became president, a G.I. Bill was passed to provide educational benefits for WWII veterans.
The influx of students was so great that the university was forced to house male students in the gymnasium, the stadium, the city armory, even in residents’ private homes.
“The G.I. Bill meant that the university had to change as quickly as possible,” said Betty Hollow, author of Ohio University: 1804-2004. “There were no places for the students to live and essentially no male dorms.”
Twenty-three Quonset huts were erected on what is now East Green and were dubbed Hog Island because of the muddiness caused by rain.
Married students had their own neighborhood near the Gordon K. Bush Airport on East State Street, where Walmart, Kroger and the Athens Community Center are today.
Veterans traveled to and from the rural college town on the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad, one of the oldest and the first common carrier railroads in the country.
“Even now, coming to Athens is not the easiest thing in the world,” Hollow said. “People’s parents would have to bring them down on a two-lane road and it took forever, so the train was an easy ride down. Friends would wait on you at the station. It was an event.”
Students would gather at the Union Depot, as they nicknamed it, to await the next train. The historic station still sits in its original place on Union Street, though the tracks were removed by the early ’80s.
“When you would leave, your boyfriend and friends would wave to you. It was kind of an occasion,” said Jo Prisley, who moved to Athens in 1949 to attend OU. “There were some cars down here, but they were all junkers, and because there were no super highways, you had to take the back roads.”
But that was soon to change, as perpetual flooding would require a whole new game plan for Athens.
’60s: City under water amidst social unrest
The ’60s brought chaos to a quiet college town. Several times, the Hocking River would spill over from its original spot where Baker University Center now sits into Peden Stadium and South Green. With river water reaching residence hall windows, students sometimes had no option but to boat to class.
Prisley remembers floodwaters flowing through the entire town, even through the yard of her May Avenue home.
“Down the street, the Red Cross was going up and down the street on motorboats,” she said. “They took us out when we wanted to go. The next year it was even higher.”
In 1969, Vernon Alden approved the city of Athens’ plan to reroute the troublesome Hocking River. The move-the-river project would redirect the water from where Baker University Center now sits to be parallel to Shafer Street.
The plan required part of the Athens Asylum grounds to be compromised, but it left opportunities for new roads and buildings.
“Those men worked 23 hours a day,” Prisley said. “They would have lights on their shoes to see in the dark. My husband would get up out of bed at night and watch them. There would be a line of people every night.”
During that time, much more was going on in Athens than just moving the river. By the end of the decade, OU students were desperate for something to dispute.
“By the end of the ’60s, students had become disillusioned with the administration and would get mad about everything,” Hollow said. “They would have protests on the green and say that the administration treated them like babies.”
In October 1969, students began to protest the Vietnam War. Their frequent unrest worsened the following year after the U.S. intervened in Cambodia and the National Guard shot four protesters at Kent State.
College students around the country and state were outraged to the point that then-Ohio Gov. Rhodes urged institutions to close.
One week in May 1970, 2,500 students participated in a March against Death, which led to firebombing the ROTC building. Days later, 100 students broke into Chubb Hall demanding a “free university.” One night, hundreds of students rioted Uptown, throwing bricks at businesses and the police.
That night, the entire student population was given 24 hours to leave campus, for the 1969-1970 school year was coming to an early close. When day broke, there was a National Guardsmen at every light post.
Andy Alexander, journalism professor at OU and former editor-in-chief of The Post, remembers getting the pseudo eviction notice and processing the events as a journalist and a student.
“You could still smell the tear gas hanging over Athens,” he said.
The Postwrote editorials reminiscent of Martin Luther King Jr.’s theory of peaceful unrest, Alexander said, but by writing about the protests, some criticized the staff for feeding the fire.
“By 1970, there was already a culture of protest,” he said. “We (at The Post) were very intent on keeping the campus peaceful and open. We favored an open university.”
Years later, Alexander said he and The Post’s staff were still condemned for being “the ones that closed the school.”
’70s-’80s: The beginnings of a party culture
Even though students during the late ’60s caused a little commotion, OU didn’t acquire the party school reputation it has today until at least a decade later.
In October 1974, a pack of costume-clad students stopped Court Street traffic to rage in the street. The infamous Block Party was born.
Throughout the ’70s, the Halloween celebration was recognized by the city as an official event. The Athens Police Department closed the street by 11 p.m. and OU sponsored costume contests, concerts, even a giant cake.
As the number of arrests increased, the city and university’s support of the street party faded. In 1979, they dropped sponsorship for the Block Party, but students raged on.
“It used to be that if you drank too much, you were considered terribly tacky and gauche,” Hollow said. “There might have been bars, but not many people hung out at them.”
By the early 1980s, OU was beginning to look like it does today. Uptown businesses had been replaced with bars and food buggies occupied vacant street-side parking spots.
Students would stop by the much-adored Bagel Buggy at the corner of Court and Union Streets. There, they would find Mark “Mack the Bagel Man” Bernards, an Oregon native who had become a frequent face in Athens, according to a 1984 edition of Athens Magazine.
In the evening, students would get a drink at The Greenery, Gee Willikers and the Hangar, according to Hollow’s book. By the ’80s, OU’s eager partiers had spawned Springfest, the first of the Athens fests.
“The May 1980 festival brought 9,000 students onto the Mill Street fields to be entertained by Balinese dancers, the O.J. Anderson Mime Troupe, the Karate Club, Cameo, Jay Ferguson, McGuffey Lane, backgammon, Frisbee and beer,” Hollow wrote.
Students had to host a beach party in Bird Arena to fund it. Even after the U.S. government changed the drinking age from 18 to 21, the party returned each spring.
“The university was involved,” Hollow said. “It would sell hot dogs and beer at the fest.”
In 1988, attendance reached a record 25,000 people. It wasn’t long, however, before the university dropped sponsorship of the event in compliance with the new law. During Fall 1990, it was replaced by an event that current students are much more familiar with: Palmer Fest.
“The fest thing has grown out of proportion,” Hollow said. “The biggest change is that the parties have moved off campus when they used to be more connected with the university. It’s different now.”
oy311909@ohiou.edu
