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As a senior, Cecily Drucker 鈥66, two months before graduation, padded down the hall of her residence hall to the pay phone. Her father had called.
鈥淗e was furious at me,鈥 she recalls. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know how he found out about what I was doing, but he said, 鈥榊ou鈥檙e going to get kicked out of school, and I spent all this money on your education.鈥 I pushed back. I said, 鈥業鈥檓 doing this. Sorry.鈥 鈥
Drucker had become a de facto leader in a plan gaining momentum with students on campus. They wanted to stop then President W. Allen Wallis from presenting Richard Nixon, at the time in private practice, with an honorary degree. Comments Nixon had made at Rutgers University warning against the perils of academic freedom prompted their protest, in which members of the faculty became involved, as well. Wallis had worked with then Vice President Nixon as an economic advisor to President Eisenhower, and the degree was to be conferred at commencement, where Nixon was to be the guest speaker.
Soon after that phone call, several of the plan鈥檚 student leaders were called into the president鈥檚 office.
鈥淭he image I have in my mind is that we were sitting like these little church mice on a sofa, and he was sitting, larger than life, behind a desk at the end of this really long room,鈥 says Drucker, of Mill Valley, California, a political science major who retired after 42 years of practicing real estate tax law and transactions. 鈥淗e said that what we were doing was an embarrassment to the University and he wanted us to stop. We were meek, but we weren鈥檛 backing down.鈥
The Class of 1966, celebrating its 50th reunion at Meliora Weekend, October 6 to 9, was on the forefront of change in many ways鈥攊ncluding being on the brink of the protest movement that helped define the 鈥60s鈥 between freshman and senior years.
Students saw policies relax鈥攆rom strict curfews to floating curfews to one of the first coed dorms in the country. The Towers, a pair of high-rise residence halls with floors for men and for women, opened in 1963.
They saw professional dynamics relax. History major Betsey Weingart Cullen 鈥66, cochair of the class reunion, remembers a professor telling students he wanted to be addressed by his first name. 鈥淗e said, 鈥楥all me Bernie,鈥 and it was just such a shock to me,鈥 she says. 鈥淚 did it, but I always felt I had crossed over a formal barrier between student and teacher.鈥
They received diplomas in the middle of a revolutionary decade that also saw the start of the women鈥檚 movement, the gay rights movement, and the environmental movement.
And they found themselves regularly in the midst of events that would make history. In anger, they hung Fidel Castro in effigy during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962. In tears, they mourned President John F. Kennedy鈥檚 assassination in 1963. Congress passed the Civil Rights Act of 1964, yet race-related violence, including in Rochester, carried on. The United States swiftly increased military forces in South Vietnam in 1965. The Cold War continued through it all.
鈥淭here was a strong feeling that the world was very turbulent, and it was hard to understand everything that was going on,鈥 says Marc Holzer 鈥66, a political science major who served as both student body president and class president. He remembers successfully advocating for funding, as chair of the finance board, to support Student Peace Union members traveling south for civil rights demonstrations, despite opposition from more conservative members.
Now living in Cambridge, Massachusetts, Holzer is founding dean emeritus of the School of Public Affairs Administration and holds the title of University Professor at Rutgers. 鈥淭o some extent, my class was a transition point from professionalism to protest,鈥 he says. 鈥淭here was more of a political awakening by the time we left campus.鈥
The class had started its Rochester years in a quieter fashion. Days after arriving as freshmen, the men and women of the class left for Frosh Camp, where they sang, hiked, played games, and met new classmates, in some cases establishing lifelong friendships. Cullen reminisces about being in the outdoors at Frosh Camp, charged with writing a class song and cheer鈥攁nd learning the schoolwide clap鈥攂efore reciting the cheer from memory:
We鈥檙e the class forever strong,
Can鈥檛 be beat鈥
Can鈥檛 go wrong,
We鈥檙e the class with all the zest,
We can take it鈥
We鈥檙e the best,
We are smart鈥
Know all the tricks
U of R, U of R鈥斺66
鈥淚t speaks of common identity,鈥 she says. 鈥淪hared activities build loyalty and a greater sense of community.鈥
And they learned 鈥淭he Genesee,鈥 Rochester鈥檚 alma mater, set to music by Herve Dwight Wilkins, from the Class of 1866 and great-grandfather of Jocelyn Trueblood 鈥66 (see sidebar). But while such songs lend continuity to the Rochester experience over generations, music also reflected the changing times.
For Richard (Richie) Woodrow 鈥66, the musical theater shows that he composed while on campus in the 1960s inadvertently reflected a cultural awakening. The former English major interrupts himself to analyze the evolution of his theatrical work during his years at the University, acknowledging that he had never before noticed the subject matter moving over time toward more pressing concerns.
鈥淭hey were all in the format of the old American musical, quite formulaic and upbeat and fun, and yet they started to get more serious,鈥 he says. 鈥淭hey were becoming more centered on politics, ideology, breaking boundaries, and a changing world. I think what we were striving for was this notion that things aren鈥檛 quite what they seem. We recognized that everything wasn鈥檛 all fluff.鈥

During their years on campus, the antiwar movement began to stir. In the spring of 1966, the newly formed Student Peace Union organized a 鈥淰igil for Peace in Vietnam,鈥 held from noon to midnight on the Eastman Quadrangle, timed to coincide with Parents鈥 Weekend and the ROTC Sunset Parade. According to the first issue of the group鈥檚 newsletter that April, the vigil was quiet, though not without opposition. They were counterpicketed twice, and endured some hurled iceballs and eggs. Eighteen months later, protesters had propelled the University into national headlines as they staged a sit-in against Dow Chemical, maker of napalm, recruiting on campus.
Cullen laughs as she recounts her first foray into protesting.
鈥淲e led a campaign to preserve the tradition of the freshman beanies,鈥 she says, referring to the blue and yellow hats that had the wearer鈥檚 graduation year embroidered on the front. 鈥淭hey were going to eliminate them our sophomore year, so we started a letter-writing campaign, but we were on a sinking ship by that point. We lost.鈥
Camp Sites
1924: The first Frosh Camp is held at the YMCA鈥檚 Camp Cory on Keuka Lake. Twenty-nine freshman men, 11 upperclassmen, and one faculty member attend. Women students go to a three-day 鈥渉ouse party,鈥 hosted by members of the junior class, at Camp Wacona at Sea Breeze amusement park.
1938: Camp activities for men move to the new facilities of the River 人妻少妇专区, with two exceptions: before classes begin in 1961 and 1962, the men return to Camp Cory.
1967: Women attend Frosh Camp for the last time.
2005: The orientation program launches a modern counterpart to Frosh Camp: Freshman Orientation Outing Treks (FOOT). At the start of every year, about 100 freshmen are chosen to take part in the three-day pre-orientation program, hiking, biking, camping, and exploring New York parks.
2016: Orientation for new students in Arts, Sciences & Engineering is a weeklong experience that aims to introduce incoming students to each other, the campus, and the local community, with a parallel two-day program for parents.
鈥擱obin L. Flanigan
Drucker and the other students opposing Nixon鈥檚 honorary degree did not. Though Nixon spoke鈥攐n academic freedom鈥攁t graduation, Wallis鈥檚 office circulated a press release beforehand, saying that Nixon鈥檚 acceptance of the invitation to speak was not contingent on receiving an honorary degree, and that, in fact, it was his policy not to accept them.
As for Nixon鈥檚 speech, 鈥渆verybody was really respectful of him,鈥 Drucker says.
But most student demonstrators were respectful while still making their case, notes reunion cochair Larry Cohen 鈥66, who majored in general science and took part 鈥渋n a fair number of protests.鈥
鈥淭here were hundreds of us,鈥 says Cohen, a Los Angeles resident and a radiology professor at the Keck School of Medicine of the University of Southern California. 鈥淲e didn鈥檛 storm the dean鈥檚 office or do anything crazy like that, but there were all kinds of sit-ins where we blocked traffic on River Boulevard鈥攚hat is now Wilson Boulevard鈥攖o protest the Vietnam War. We wanted to be heard and seen and to show that we knew things were going on in the world and we didn鈥檛 like it.
鈥淲e鈥檇 shut down the campus, and if there was traffic, that was just too bad. You had to find another way out of there.鈥
For all the turmoil of the times, there were a lot of changes to celebrate as well. For Cohen, who married Jane Zimelis Cohen 鈥67, one of them was the chance to live in the Towers. 鈥淵ou were on somewhat better behavior, and you cleaned up a lot more because you never knew when someone was going to pop into your suite,鈥 he says. 鈥淚t just changed our whole lifestyle. That鈥檚 one of my favorite memories.鈥
Hundreds of members of the Class of 1966 will exchange memories at their reunion during Meliora Weekend.
鈥淲hat we鈥檒l do is stop time, turn back the clock for a few days,鈥 says Cullen.
Back to a time when freshmen, still largely anchored in the more staid 1950s, emerged in 1966 as seniors living on the cusp of great social change.
鈥淚t was a very challenging time to be alive, especially as we moved farther on into the 鈥60s,鈥 adds Cullen. 鈥淏ut everything still felt gradual.
鈥淲hen you鈥檙e in college, a year is a long time. When you鈥檙e in your 70s, like I am, a year goes very quickly.鈥