FNR Memories
This page is dedicated to our FNR family so they can share their memories. Whether an alumni, faculty, staff and/or FNR family, we want to hear from you. Send in your memories to Wendy Mayer, Communications Coordinator, at wendymayer@purdue.edu.
We never called him Dr. Miller. It was always 'just Charley.' He was a friend, father, leader, and teacher. - Julian Hutchinson, Forestry 1958
Julian Hutchinson, Forestry 1958
Purdue University Junior-Senior Prom 1957
“It was held in the spring before I married my wife, and I wanted to impress her. The Purdue prom was a big deal and did just that! Pat loved to dance and was very excited and enthralled by the pageantry. The dance was held in the Purdue Memorial Union’s three huge ballrooms. Anyway, as you can imagine, the three bands, Benny Goodman, Glen Miller, and Hal McIntyre, certainly got her attention. There wasn’t AC in 1957, and it became quite warm with 3,000 couples huffing and puffing! We would dance to one band and then go into another ballroom and dance to another. The double doors of one ballroom lead outside to a veranda with a concrete wall. We would dance and then sit on the cool concrete for a while. Then dance some more.”
Julian Hutchinson, Forestry 1958
Memories of Charlie Miller
“We never called him Dr. Miller. It was always ‘just Charley.’ He was a friend, father, leader, and teacher. A veteran of WW II, never harping, always helping. He gave us one special lesson at Summer Camp, which was then held at Henryville in the Clark County Forest. During the last week, the talk was “Throw Charlie in Schlam Lake.” We had our chance on the last night. About ten of us, fresh from the quarter barrel caught him as he returned from a shower - he only had on a pair of shorts and carried a towel, soap, and toilet kit. At the door of his tent, we surrounded him, hollering, “Throw him in Schlam Lake! Throw him in Schlam Lake.” In a soft voice barely heard above the din he replied, “You boys don’t want to do that.” We edged closer and kept repeating, “Throw him in the lake.” He was calm. Firm. In charge. “You boys don’t want to do that. It would be so childish.” The three of us in front were Korean War vets. Tough. All one of us had to do was grab an arm, and ten others would carry him to the lake. But we didn’t. I’ll never forget those words, ”You boys don’t want to do that.” And we never did. We walked away, muttering to ourselves. The lesson he gave was how to be a leader.”