Linfield College

We finally arrived in McMinnville, Oregon, where Linfield College is located.

Why did I, a Methodist, go to a Baptist College?

Prof. Schlaregh, who later became my history teacher, traveled around the northwest recruiting students. Mother or Dad must have written for information about the school for one day he called on us and convinced them that it was the school for me. I didn't want to leave Missoula, my boyfriend, or my life long friends.

We finally arrived in McMinnville and for a few days and nights camped in the tourist park. We finally rented all but one room of a two-story house belonging to Mrs. Neal, the widow of a policeman who had been killed. She kept the one room. Because of a new highway through McMinnville, that house and all of the others in the neighborhood are gone.

In the 1920's chapel was a must every day, unless it was dismissed because some student had put limburger cheese on a hot radiator. Years later the student who was responsible was a professor there.

At Linfield my major was music and I studied piano with Alice Clements. Unlike all my other teachers, she made me memorize and play without my music for recitals. That was awful, for memorizing anything isn't my strong point; in fact it isn't one of my points at all! Wilbur could memorize anything. He could recite poems he had learned in grade school.

My best friend was Alla Bollen, daughter of my speech professor. (He later became the minister of the University Baptist Church, Seattle). She and I loved playing duets together and once we played until 2:00 am. We also played Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsodies for the College Sunday School Class. She played at the theater while I played at churches. In the morning I played at the Baptist Sunday School class, then at the Christian Science Church morning service and in the evening for the Methodist Epworth League.

Another friend was Anna Sly, daughter of my religion teacher. My first trip to the Pacific Ocean was with Anna and her family. They rented a cabin at Gearhart, Oregon, for the weekend.

Mother and Dad didn't approve of going to the movies on Sunday. As I said, Alla played at the theater and asked me to go with her one Sunday night. I never told Mother, but oh, how guilty I felt!

Moving from Montana's climate to Oregon's affected me in that I was sleepy and actually took naps, which I'd never done since I was a baby. I had trouble keeping awake to study. Anyway, that is my excuse for not getting all B's and A's.

I also played on the volleyball team, which meant going to other schools. I enjoyed that. But playing handball got me in trouble with my piano teacher. No one told me that I shouldn't play.

During the spring semester a famous pianist was giving a concert in the Portland Auditorium. Miss Clements persuaded several of us to go, and Dad drove us. As we entered the city on Terwilleger Blvd, we had a flat tire. As Dad bent over to fix it, the seat of his pants split. He asked me to shield him as much as I could. Being a man he could walk behind all of us, thank goodness.

In the summer before college started I stayed with Dad in Salem sometimes. He found more work there than in McMinnville. Back then in the summer there were band concerts on the Capitol lawn by the fountain. Dad and I always went to these.

Our friends from Missoula, Maggy and Stan Wright, were living in Seattle and wrote glowing accounts of the city. Dad finally decided to go to Seattle and look for work. After college was out he sent for me. So on the day of the Portland Rose Festival I came to Seattle by train. I remember the conductor calling, "West Seattle", and I didn't know if I should get off or not. I still haven't figured out why he called it, for a train never went to West Seattle.

Dad was living in an apartment on 9th Ave. across from the St. James Cathedral. I remember Maggy, who was a 7th Day Adventist, telling me the two towers were filled with guns for the Catholics intended to take over the U.S. and she believed it.

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