The Springfield Trapdoor served as the United States Army’s “warhorse” for at least 20 years. It was held by both sides through the Indian campaigns in the American West and widely used by American troops during the Spanish-American War. The powerful single shot Trapdoor was also quite popular with many famous Indian warriors. Sitting Bull was carrying a Trapdoor Carbine model when he surrendered to American troops at Fort Buford, North Dakota and Geronimo was carrying the same when he was captured by General Miles in Skeleton Canyon, Arizona in 1886.

In the world of weapons and artillery, the Springfield holds the dubious honor of having been carried into the Battle of Little Bighorn by General George A. Custer’s 7th Cavalry on June 25, 1876. While repeating rifles such as the Spencer and Winchester were already available, the U.S. Army chose the Springfield carbine, a single-shot weapon (shorter and more suitable for the cavalry than the rifle) that had to be reloaded after each fired round. Many officers believed it to be superior because of its considerable accuracy at long ranges. The Springfield Trapdoor came about in 1873, as a redesign of the Army’s Allin Trapdoor rifle. The Springfield was made to hold the new, more powerful .45-70 military cartridge. The .45-caliber cartridge came out of the muzzle at 1,200 feet per second and could make significant hits up to 600 yards. Full-stocked, 32″ barreled rifles as well as half-stocked, short-barreled carbines were produced for the military.

The Wheaton College Archives houses two of these vintage Springfield rifles. They were discovered among articles in Wheaton’s archival collections. With no provenance to speak of, historians can only speculate what dangers of the early Illinois frontier were kept at bay by this intimidating weapon.

Commencement is over and rented gowns returned. Cakes have been cut and eaten and celebrations have ceased. Fading into memory are the stuff of college days: Class Films, tussles over the Senior Bench and other inter-class rivalries.

One of the class rivalries of old, like the Senior Bench and sophomores hazing freshman, was the Senior Cake. The first Senior Cake was buried by the class of 1925. There was a great deal of class rivalry in those days. For instance, the Class of 1927 kidnapped the Class of 1926’s president so that he could not attend the important Washington Banquet. Fortunately, he was rescued through a broken basement window just in time to attend.

The Senior Cake tradition called for the senior class to bury a fruit cake somewhere on the campus on the first day of class. The Junior Class would have the school year to locate the cake. If the Juniors did not “take the cake” the Seniors would unearth it on Class Day (last day of classes). The rivalry got so out of hand that rules were instituted in 1940 to govern the placement of the cake (e.g. not under concrete, within five feet of a building, more than four feet underground, and others). Due to fake cakes being buried after 1940 the “true” cake bore the signature of the president and dean. The Class of 1930’s cake, which was cared for by Catherine Hurlburt, weighed over thirty pounds. If the juniors failed to find the cake it was placed on a high pole on the day of the Alumni Banquet and eaten that evening.

From 1925 to 1943 the cake had been discovered only twice–the class of 1938 dug through six inches of concrete and three feet of clay to bring forth the prized cake. The Class of 1937 allowed the Tower editor, Carl F.H. Henry, to sell their senior cake once it was unearthed to raise funds for the following year’s yearbook. Pieces were sold for a dollar a piece. That must have been some desirable fruitcake!

Various locations that the cake had been buried were the backyard of the Missionary House (1925), near Williston Hall by the original dining hall parking lot (1943), along the sidewalk between Blanchard Hall, Pierce and Adams Hall (1926), “seventy-five feet from the big tree at the turn of the front campus path” (1937), and, near the southwest corner of Blanchard Hall (1938).

Wheaton College Monopoli was created in 1972 by the Kodon and Tower editors, Tim Neumann ’73 and Dan Varisco ’73. These two senior roommates who controlled most of the college printing power decided to collaborate their creative energies and produce a parody of the original Monopoly board game. According to Neumann the game was revised to reflect Wheaton’s spiritual heritage.

“Go to Jail” became “Go to Hell,” “Free Parking” became “Wages of Sin,” “Chance” cards became “Predestination” cards and “Community Chest” became “Abraham’s Bosom.” President Hudson Armerding’s portrait appeared on the play money in the form of HUD bucks and Christian-controlled properties circled the board. The cheapest property, Mediterranean Avenue, was replaced by Bob Jones University, Water Works became “Water into Wine Works,” and North Carolina Avenue became Billy Graham National Monument in tribute to the famous alum’s home state.

In lieu of the customary literary magazine, a Monopoli game was produced for every student on campus.

Although board games in general were never banned at Wheaton, President Armerding instructed that all copies of this game be destroyed due to threat of legal action from Parker Brothers. Parker Brothers has fought hard to retain the rights and trademark to Monopoly and has seen their efforts come to nought and be reversed several times, ultimately lobbying for a change to U.S. Trademark Laws to retain control of the brand. Decades later, this copy of the game surfaced from a retired member of the college’s administration.

In Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Lord Polonius advises Laertes on how to conduct himself. During his oration he reminds Laertes:

Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend,
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.

Now libraries, much more so that archives, have a long tradition of lending, at least in the United States. The history of the Public, or Free, Library in the United States is one of noble purposes as individuals like Franklin and others saw the need for an educated citizenry and free and easy access to information.

Sometimes that access can be thwarted by its own openness. While recently verifying the contents of a long-held collection of papers from a long-deceased faculty member (S. Richey Kamm) as the staff of the Archives & Special Collections finish development of our archival management system Archon, an interesting find was made. In a folder titled “Association of American Universities Conference Reports, 1900-1902” were two volumes of this potentially uninteresting serial. For some unknown reason piquing interest, these volumes, both, were found to have a call number written on the front covers and a notation inside its back covers, “mending.” Querying the library catalog it was clear that these two volumes were the missing start to a long series of publications. This long-borrowed couplet had been located in a faculty’s files for over fifty years and sitting in archival storage for over thirty of those years. Their brief foray into a faculty office soon became a multi-decade trek back to a more proper home.

One doesn’t wish to perpetuate old (and inaccurate?) stereotypes of absent-minded professors or dusty, little-consulted archives, but it does give an archivist or a librarian pause about all this “free and easy access” business….

At least for a moment. All will be put at ease to know that the renegade volumes have made their way back to their proper home with its other serial siblings.