Photo From the Archives: Princeton’s Proctors

PAW’s call for stories about the University proctors (From the Archives, January issue) reminded me about how cooperative proctors were when it came to my writing a story about Princeton’s squirrels for The Daily Princetonian, March 11, 1957.

Either they fooled me with an elaborately constructed fable, or they told me the truth about their coming to the rescue of a distraught undergraduate. Either way they deserve praise and recognition.

As the story was told, a student some years earlier had befriended a squirrel with a regular supply of sweetmeats and milk from his room at the top floor of Witherspoon. 

One day he was preparing to take his date to the Metropolitan Opera, having purchased two $10 tickets, only to discover the tickets were missing.

After a call to chief proctor Mike Kopliner, the tickets were seen in the mouth of his pet squirrel, peering through the window. 

I quote from my story: “But the squirrel on the fire escape was in his element; a short scamper and he was up a tree.

“One staff member, James S. Clark, recalls how a worker tried to retrieve the tickets by sticking his hand down the squirrel’s nest, only to hastily withdraw it with several neat incisions and uttering howls of agony.

“When, after a determined effort the tickets were finally recovered, the student was an hour late, and, worst of all, his date never believed his story, although she ‘appreciated its originality.’”

Perhaps another story about University Proctors (From the Archives, January issue) may be of interest.

It was the spring of my sophomore year when my classmates of the Class of 1954, shouted the name of  “Joe Sugar” and we gathered in a melee on Nassau Street. I was confronted by a proctor who asked me to give him my name. I responded “Schmalz.” This is German for lard or chicken fat. He did not care for my response and gave me a hard time.

I was summoned to appear in Nassau Hall before Dean “Frisco” Godolphin 1924. I arrived with great trepidation only to be treated with great civility. As it turns out, my father was also a member of the Class of 1924 and the dean knew him. The dean enjoyed the references to my name, and we parted friends.

Later, however, I shared a lunch with my parents at the Princeton Inn, where I learned that they did not appreciate my activities and they thought that I should get back to my studies. I did.           

I hope to have a more pleasant meal at my upcoming 70th reunion at Forbes College.

You asked for stories about University proctors (From the Archives, January issue).

It was winter sophomore year, likely January or February 1976 (but the picture is often fuzzy from a distance). My Holder Courtyard roommate Jeff Georgia ’78 and I were finishing up a late evening meal at Commons, when the idea struck (his idea or mine, is no longer certain).

“Let’s grab that big stodgy portrait off the wall and hang it outside our room for all the courtyard to admire!”

And just like that, the deed was done. I believe the particular dining hall was called Lower Eagle (the dining hall closest to our entry). It was a big old formal portrait (seems like it was 6-feet-by-4-feet, but again things get fuzzy from a distance). It was all reverential pomp-and-circumstantial portraiture, with a fine fantastic formal frame. Our room (second floor) was centered on the northern side of the courtyard, and its placement gave the whole courtyard an air of rarefied respectability (or so we believed).

We even enhanced the presentation with dedicated lighting, making judicious use of a desk lamp centered just so above the new courtyard addition.

Well, everything was fine enough, and the evening was quietly unfolding when quietly and surreptitiously, snow started falling. Then next thing you know, we had a knock at our door.

That’s when the four of us in our quad had our first genuine encounter with The Proctors. They were firm but fraternal, as I recall.

Long story short, back into Lower Eagle went the old patriarchal figure, and as I recall Jeff and I, within a day or two, had some delicate conversation with a dean. Our lesson in art history was completed.