Month: April 2026

The Spring Ritual of Mowing

On April 27, 2026

In 2025-26

In April, grass grows at a prodigious rate in Iowa. On his visit to Grinnell, the famed agriculturalist, Wes Jackson, once expressed his astonishment at how quickly, and completely, Iowa goes from a sea of brown to a “riot of green”, in just a couple of weeks.

All of that grass, of course, requires mowing, and modern day Grinnellians are used to hearing the hum of lawnmowers around campus and town whenever the rain pauses and the sun comes out. Last week, in fact, City officials reminded residents, businesses, and institutions that they would be taking their rulers around town to measure grass height (anyone with grass over 8 inches will receive a citation and be fined).

A century ago, one groundskeeper (captured in this 1916 photograph) was responsible for mowing all 22 acres of campus with a horse-drawn mechanical mower. In 1930, students published calculations about how much mowing this entailed. Estimating that he mowed the campus 20 times a year, and calculating how many miles that would translate into if he and the college horse travelled in a straight line, they determined (with a good dose of comic hyperbole) that:

They have traveled far enough to go from New York to San Francisco and back to the railroad crossing just this side of Kellogg, where they would undoubtedly block the Rock Island trains until next spring, when there will be more grass to cut and they could again move on.

This process of endless mowing is the kind of prosaic routine that typically fades into the background of college life. Although there are times when it surfaces. In the 1970s, for example, the staff of Buildings and Grounds went on strike for 19 weeks, forcing administrators to do much of the mowing (there are iconic photos of Dean Wally Walker mowing the campus lawn). And there were a number of debates in the 1980s about whether mowing should take place during class time, when open windows made it difficult to hear.

Still, the symphisian task of mowing continues on.

A Dome of One’s Own: Buckminster Fuller Comes to Grinnell (1972)

By admin

On April 20, 2026

In 2025-26

As we celebrate Earth week, it’s interesting to look back at some of the early response on campus to the growing environmental movement of the 1960s and 1970s. An earlier post showcased some archival items from the first Earth Day at Grinnell, on April 22, 1970. Two years later, in April of 1972, much of the attention was focused on the construction of a futuristic structure, a geodesic dome, and the upcoming commencement speaker who had inspired this design: Buckminster Fuller. The choice of commencement speaker, in fact, had been determined by student ballot, and Fuller was the clear choice of the class of 1972.

While few may have heard of that name today, Fuller was one of the most charismatic and beloved figures in the environmental movement of this era. An architect and engineer—known for his futuristic designs that emphasized sustainability—Fuller inspired many with the hope that better design and technological improvement could solve the environmental crisis brought on by industrial capitalism. Whereas some environmentalists chose to join the “back-to-the land” movement, embracing a return to pre-industrial ways of life, Fuller encouraged his followers to design a new technological future, living in his iconic geodesic domes that would save energy and resources, modeling the ideal of a “spaceship earth.” One of Fuller’s most energetic followers would be Stewart Brand, creator of the Whole Earth Catalog, which promoted this vision of technology as a liberating force, and the key to sustainability. “Fuller said…you can’t change human nature,” Brand recalled, “but you can change tools, you can change techniques, you can change civilization.”

In April of 1972, as the graduating class awaited Fuller’s commencement address, another group of Grinnell students were busy constructing two geodesic domes of their own that were based on Fuller’s design. These students, in fact, were part of a special topics course that spring, ART 295: Geodesic Domes, that was created to channel the campus interest in Fuller’s work. Taught by William Trotter, in the art department, the course “included lectures on spherical trigonometry and structural engineering” and focused on the construction of two domes. One would be a larger model that would appear behind the commencement stage, and be used for outdoor events in the future, while a much smaller version was created to serve as a kind of jungle gym for the nearby pre-school. These domes were an iconic symbol of one strand of environmentalism that embraced technology as a potential solution to the ecological crisis unfolding.

A Break from the Grind: ”Skip Days” in the 1970s

By admin

On April 15, 2026

In 2025-26

In April of 1975, A. Richard Turner was installed as the ninth President of Grinnell College. An art historian, who studied Renaissance Florence and Leonardo da Vinci (in particular), Turner was eager to set a new tone on campus after the fierce political battles and protests of the late sixties and early seventies, which had pitted students against the administration. In one of his first moves, Turner declared a “skip day”—announcing one April evening that the next day (which was forecast to be a beautiful and warm day) he would cancel all classes and work, providing free food, entertainment, and kegs of beer outside the Forum for students to enjoy—a kind of Midwestern carnival.

“Skip Days” became a beloved tradition during Turner’s presidency, although faculty were less than thrilled about having classes, labs, and tests cancelled without any prior notice (Turner would declare one skip day each Fall and Spring, announcing it the night before). Yet, Turner always pointed out the need for students to have this kind of unexpected break, from the grind and pressure of work. It was also a chance to build community spirit on campus. When George Drake became president of the college in 1980, the faculty voted to end “skip days,” although SGA tried to carry on the tradition for a few years unofficially. But it faded into memory by the mid-1980s.

Special Edition: Apollo, Artemis & the Artistic Perspective

By admin

On April 7, 2026

In 2025-26

As the crew of Artemis II send back stunning images from their lunar orbit, it’s worth noting the role that visual imagery and the arts played in NASA’s original Apollo program, some 50 years ago. While iconic photos like “Earthrise” (1968) or “Blue Marble” (1972) dominate our visual memory of the events, NASA actually created a full scale arts program for the Apollo missions, reminiscent of the artistic projects of the WPA era. Curator of the National Gallery, Hereward Lester Cook, wrote to many top (and rising) artists, asking them to seize this historic moment to come down to Cape Canaveral to spend months observing and engaging with the Apollo program (Apollo 8-13), noting:

As Daumier pointed out about a century ago, the camera sees everything and understands nothing. It is the emotional impact, interpretation, and hidden significance of these events which lie within the scope of the artists’ vision.

Artists were given housing, stipends, and unfettered, behind-the-scenes access to NASA’s work. In all, the program attracted nearly 200 artists ranging from Annie Leibovitz and Andy Warhol to Robert Rauschenberg and Vija Celmina (even Norman Rockwell participated).

NASA selected some of the most evocative pieces of artwork to form a special exhibit, “Mission Apollo” that premiered at the National Gallery of Art, before travelling to select locations around the country.

At the end of January, 1971, Grinnell College was fortunate to host that exhibit for a week, which contained nearly 50 paintings, drawings, lithographs, and watercolors, that went on display at the Fine Arts Center. Pictured here are two items from that exhibit.

Robert Rauschenberg, “Sky Garden,” 1969, 6-color lithograph

Weather Alert: Grinnell’s First System of Weather Warnings (1888)

By admin

On April 4, 2026

In 2025-26, Uncategorized

We have certainly experienced a lot of turbulent weather in the past week or two—with temperatures varying wildly from day-to-day, and severe cold fronts bringing thunderstorms (with the accompanying threat of high winds, hail, or tornados). How did prior generations of Grinnellians deal with this kind of volatile and dangerous weather?

One of the first notable steps towards a public warning system appears to have developed in the spring of 1888, when the college joined the federal government’s network of voluntary weather observatories. Run by the Signal Service, in the Department of War, this program created a network of volunteer observatories throughout the country, which would record a series of meteorological measurements each day, using calibrated instruments provided by the government, and in turn, would receive daily forecasts and weather charts (via telegraph), which would be communicated to the public by flying large, specialized weather flags, atop their buildings. Goodnow Hall served as the first weather observatory, when the college joined this system in the spring of 1888, with Prof Samuel Buck (Mathematics and Astronomy) overseeing this project.

Goodnow, which was built only a few years earlier, in the wake of the devastating tornado of 1882, was designed to serve as the college’s new library and astronomical observatory. To serve as a weather station, two large poles were added to the building—one, was attached to the observatory tower, and served as the flagpole used to fly the 6 large weather flags that an inland station would use (coastal sites, carried a larger number of storm flags particular to maritime conditions), while the second pole was erected in the center of the building’s roofline to carry the sensitive anemometer, which sent electrical signals to a self-recording device (a chronograph) that captured a constant record of wind direction and speed. Pictures & drawings of Goodnow from this period usually include these two features of the building, which disappeared later. And the fluttering weather flags would have been a prominent feature of the local skyline (each flag was more than 6 feet in length, so that they could be seen from far away.

The most prominent and important of the flags was the “Cold Wave” flag (pictured here), that warned of a coming cold front that could lead to dramatic storms throughout the year. The danger that such cold fronts posed were particularly on the mind of Americans in the spring of 1888, when Grinnell joined this forecasting network, because of two, recent, traumatic events. On January 12, 1888, what started out as a very warm and mild day turned into one of the fiercest blizzards in the upper Midwest that struck unexpectedly that afternoon, trapping many school children who were trying to walk home from their rural schoolhouses. It is estimated that nearly 300 people died from exposure in what became known as the “Children’s Blizzard”; and in March, an equally sudden and ferocious blizzard descended on the Northeast (again leading to a staggering loss of life, and paralyzing much of the region). It seems likely, then, that the timing of Grinnell’s entry into the Signal Service network was driven by these recent events. Throughout the nation, people clamored for better ways to communicate forecasts and warn about impending weather dangers. The flags that flew each day over Goodnow were a visible attempt to address those concerns, and would continue to alert the public until radio broadcasts rendered this system obsolete.