Monday, February 26, 2007
Baylor History, Part Twelve
Almost immediately upon his installation, President Brooks made some interesting choices. He required that faculty live in single-sex dormitories, provided scholarships to those prospective students with the letters “arg” in their last names, and began the tradition of forcibly re-baptising all incoming freshman in the Brazos, along with any student who misbehaved. Brooks took the mission of adult baptism quite literally, and in the course of four years baptized one student, Lesli Bargtarg, no less than fourteen times.
Despite these odd developments, there were many pioneers among the graduates of this era around the turn of the century, making their marks on Texas and beyond. Most significant, perhaps, was Simone DesChartreuse, a native of France who ended up at Baylor through a freak navigational accident which caused a French frigate bound for New York to veer wildly off course, steer up the mouth of the Brazos river, and run aground near Huntsville. There, the ship was commandeered by a group of prison escapees, who further guided the boat to Waco, where it again ran aground. The press surrounding the incident was very bad, and the State of Texas offered free tuition at Baylor to the surviving French passengers. The only one to take the State up on its offer was Simone DesChartreuse. She stayed in Waco, mastered both English and dentistry, and upon graduation pursued a Ph.D. in dentistry with Professor Floyd Wilhelm. Together, they developed modern techniques for bonding, replacing, coloring, cutting, whittling and bronzing teeth, many of which are still in use. DesChartreuse, however, worked alone in developing her most significant advance. Convinced that she could improve dental health by bombarding patient’s mouths with UV rays, DesChartreuse built self-contained units which would flood the body with such light. While the primary purpose of these experiments was a failure, she found that the patients in her experiments were left with even, safe, golden tans, and she quickly began to market her “tanning beds,” starting an industry which still thrives in Waco and it’s environs. By 1910, she was the richest woman in Texas, a status she retained throughout her life, especially after her subsequent invention of a “spray” which held hair in place.
Labels: Baylor History
Comments:
<< Home
Good Professor:
We couldn't help but think of you and your appreciation of the paradox that is Waco, when we stumbled across this gem:
http://bearmeat.blogspot.com/2007/02/waco-we-do-pimp-patent-theft-craigslist.html
We couldn't help but think of you and your appreciation of the paradox that is Waco, when we stumbled across this gem:
http://bearmeat.blogspot.com/2007/02/waco-we-do-pimp-patent-theft-craigslist.html
Good Professor:
We couldn't help but think of you and your appreciation of the paradox that is Waco, when we stumbled across this gem:
http://bearmeat.blogspot.com/2007/02/waco-we-do-pimp-patent-theft-craigslist.html
We couldn't help but think of you and your appreciation of the paradox that is Waco, when we stumbled across this gem:
http://bearmeat.blogspot.com/2007/02/waco-we-do-pimp-patent-theft-craigslist.html
Good Professor:
We couldn't help but think of you and your appreciation of the paradox that is Waco, when we stumbled across this gem:
http://bearmeat.blogspot.com/2007/02/waco-we-do-pimp-patent-theft-craigslist.html
We couldn't help but think of you and your appreciation of the paradox that is Waco, when we stumbled across this gem:
http://bearmeat.blogspot.com/2007/02/waco-we-do-pimp-patent-theft-craigslist.html
Prof. Osler,
Although I am quite sure you aware of this, given that you introduced Simone DesChartreuse in this most recent post, I should remind you that she was also involved in the first instance of an Underwood making an entrance on the Baylor campus.
At the time that Brooks had begun these various programs, he hired an assistant named Jeff David Lyle who went by the title of Provost and who was believed to have written the twentieth century version of Malleus Maleficarum. At the time of his appointment, he in fact adopted the moniker “The Witch Hammer” and quickly moved for the creation of the Inquisitors' Court, which was built at an enormous cost to the University on the banks of the Brazos River near the Texas Rangers winter training facility (formerly the Texas Ranger Gun Shop and now the Texas Ranger Hall of Discount Guns and Garb).
A young freshman named Minnie Lovelace at this time visited Ms. DesChartreuse, seeking to use this ultraviolet ray machine, and after lying in this machine, she indeed received an even, safe, and golden tan. However, a young nephew of Ms. DesChartreuse had left a small William Howard Taft action figure on the bed (and it was indeed small, which makes little sense, but it had a really cool spring-loaded chopping action), and after lying on this figure for nearly an hour, Ms. Lovelace had an indention on her arm that would not disappear for months.
Unfortunately for Ms. Lovelace, she happened upon Provost Lyle on campus later that week, and the Provost noticed said indention on her arm. After minutes of consideration, he determined that the mark was one of a Dolmen, a pillar symbol used in Druidical worship. Knowing that this was a pagan symbol linked with sacred trees and knowing the Board of Intenders’ odd Christian affinity for trees, the Provost struck, ordering his minions to lock Ms. Lovelace's hands in a vice and to bring her down to the shores of the Brazos to stand trial before the Inquisitors' Court. (And yes, this is indeed where we get the term “Vice-Provost” today).
Well, unbeknownst to Provost Lyle, a tough, renegade Oklahoma lawyer and Wild West Rodeo star named Burney Slack Underwood took interest in Ms. Lovelace’s case. The man had read law while hunting down outlaws in the rocks, caves, and trees near Wilburton. He once mended a broken leg suffered on a cattle drive by strapping the leg to a branch from a Yoshino Cheery Tree-- and he did not miss a day on that drive. He was tough, and he was coming to Waco.
The Witch Hammer was no match for this Underwood. The Oklahoman not only crushed the existence of the Inquisitors' Court within fifteen minutes of his arrival, but he also concurrently brought a civil action against Ms. DesChartreuse. Without law or facts on his side, Underwood convinced a local judge to recognize a cause of action for breach of implied warranty of fitness for human absorption, and Ms. Lovelace recovered $4980 for the indention caused by the William Howard Taft action figure. Underwood received a fee of $2450, which allowed him to purchase an open version, four-wheel Argo Brougham that reached speeds of 20 miles per hour but that had a charge that only lasted 75 miles. He headed back towards the north, but unfortunately, nobody is quite sure where he went after his initial charge expired.
Provost Lyle was quickly removed from his position, but when he tried to leave Texas, he was refused entry into any other state in the Union, as well as Canada or Mexico. So he remained in Waco, a man without a city, state, or country. Many years later, his story became the loose basis for the movie The Terminal, staring Academy Award winner Tom Hanks.
[Academy Awards is the registered trademark and service mark of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.]
Post a Comment
Although I am quite sure you aware of this, given that you introduced Simone DesChartreuse in this most recent post, I should remind you that she was also involved in the first instance of an Underwood making an entrance on the Baylor campus.
At the time that Brooks had begun these various programs, he hired an assistant named Jeff David Lyle who went by the title of Provost and who was believed to have written the twentieth century version of Malleus Maleficarum. At the time of his appointment, he in fact adopted the moniker “The Witch Hammer” and quickly moved for the creation of the Inquisitors' Court, which was built at an enormous cost to the University on the banks of the Brazos River near the Texas Rangers winter training facility (formerly the Texas Ranger Gun Shop and now the Texas Ranger Hall of Discount Guns and Garb).
A young freshman named Minnie Lovelace at this time visited Ms. DesChartreuse, seeking to use this ultraviolet ray machine, and after lying in this machine, she indeed received an even, safe, and golden tan. However, a young nephew of Ms. DesChartreuse had left a small William Howard Taft action figure on the bed (and it was indeed small, which makes little sense, but it had a really cool spring-loaded chopping action), and after lying on this figure for nearly an hour, Ms. Lovelace had an indention on her arm that would not disappear for months.
Unfortunately for Ms. Lovelace, she happened upon Provost Lyle on campus later that week, and the Provost noticed said indention on her arm. After minutes of consideration, he determined that the mark was one of a Dolmen, a pillar symbol used in Druidical worship. Knowing that this was a pagan symbol linked with sacred trees and knowing the Board of Intenders’ odd Christian affinity for trees, the Provost struck, ordering his minions to lock Ms. Lovelace's hands in a vice and to bring her down to the shores of the Brazos to stand trial before the Inquisitors' Court. (And yes, this is indeed where we get the term “Vice-Provost” today).
Well, unbeknownst to Provost Lyle, a tough, renegade Oklahoma lawyer and Wild West Rodeo star named Burney Slack Underwood took interest in Ms. Lovelace’s case. The man had read law while hunting down outlaws in the rocks, caves, and trees near Wilburton. He once mended a broken leg suffered on a cattle drive by strapping the leg to a branch from a Yoshino Cheery Tree-- and he did not miss a day on that drive. He was tough, and he was coming to Waco.
The Witch Hammer was no match for this Underwood. The Oklahoman not only crushed the existence of the Inquisitors' Court within fifteen minutes of his arrival, but he also concurrently brought a civil action against Ms. DesChartreuse. Without law or facts on his side, Underwood convinced a local judge to recognize a cause of action for breach of implied warranty of fitness for human absorption, and Ms. Lovelace recovered $4980 for the indention caused by the William Howard Taft action figure. Underwood received a fee of $2450, which allowed him to purchase an open version, four-wheel Argo Brougham that reached speeds of 20 miles per hour but that had a charge that only lasted 75 miles. He headed back towards the north, but unfortunately, nobody is quite sure where he went after his initial charge expired.
Provost Lyle was quickly removed from his position, but when he tried to leave Texas, he was refused entry into any other state in the Union, as well as Canada or Mexico. So he remained in Waco, a man without a city, state, or country. Many years later, his story became the loose basis for the movie The Terminal, staring Academy Award winner Tom Hanks.
[Academy Awards is the registered trademark and service mark of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.]
# posted by 
: 11:16 PM
: 11:16 PM << Home
