Thanksgiving traditions at Virginia Tech

A menu for the traditional Sunday Thanksgiving dinner at Virginia Tech in 1924
A menu for the traditional Sunday Thanksgiving dinner at Virginia Tech in 1924

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As Thanksgiving approaches, the Virginia Tech campus becomes practically deserted as students, faculty and staff leave town en masse to celebrate the holiday with family and friends. But it wasnt always this way. For more than half of Virginia Techs history, family, friends and alumni would descend upon Blacksburg and Roanoke the week of Thanksgiving for one of VTs greatest traditions- the annual football game in Roanoke against their biggest rival, the Virginia Military Institute (VMI).

The tradition began in 1894, when Virginia Tech (still known as the Virginia Agricultural and Mechanical College) played their first game against VMI at Staunton on Thanksgiving Day. The entire VAMC Corps of cadets made a trip to the event. VMI won that game by a score of 10 to 6, but VAMCs spirit was not broken. The 1895 yearbook, the Bugle, states, At half past two o’clock we boarded our train and returned, not feeling the least humiliated over our defeat, for we all vowed that the day of reckoning should come and that with a vengeance. The next year, on Thanksgiving Day, 1895, VAMC defeated VMI with a score of 6 to 4 at a game played in Lynchburg. Thus, both a rivalry and tradition were born.

The annual Thanksgiving football game moved to Roanoke in 1896, where it remained for the next 73 years. The event became known as The Military Classic of the South, and spawned many traditions and week-long festivities during the Thanksgiving holiday, including dances, dinners and parades through the streets of downtown Roanoke. The festivities usually ended with a Thanksgiving feast held on Sunday in the College Mess Hall for the Corp of Cadets and their guests.1895

The ties between Virginia Tech and Thanksgiving were further strengthened as the college sports teams started being referred to as the Fighting Gobblers in the early 1900s. It wasnt long before the association between a Gobbler and a turkey resulted in Virginia Tech adopting this Thanksgiving bird as its mascot. In 1913, local resident and VPI employee Floyd Meade trained a large turkey to perform various stunts before the crowd at football games, and the tradition of having a live turkey on the sidelines of games continued into the 1950s, before being replaced by a costumed mascot.

Another Virginia Tech tradition that started at the annual Thanksgiving game was the Skipper cannon, and this Thanksgiving 2013, marks its 50th anniversary. For many years, VMI had opened the game by firing their game cannon Little John on the field. The VMI cadets would taunt their rivals by chanting VPI, wheres your cannon! In 1963, two cadet seniors, Alton B. Harper Jr. and Homer Hadley Hickam, not wanting to be out-cannoned by VMI any longer, gathered funds and materials to create the largest game cannon in the world. The entire operation was done in secrecy, with the intention of giving it a surprise debut at the 1963 Thanksgiving game. The cannon was completed just in time, and as Hickam and Harper were secretly driving it back to Blacksburg from the foundry in Roanoke on November 22, 1963, they got word that President Kennedy had been shot. As tribute to the fallen president, the cannon was named Skipper after John F. Kennedys naval background, and its first firing was 50 round salute on the upper quad, a military tradition given for fallen leaders. One week later, the Skipper was fired at the 1963 Thanksgiving Day football game, to the astonishment of the VMI cadets, and the tradition of the Skipper cannon being fired at Virginia Tech football games was born.

Cadets parade the Skipper cannon through the streets of Roanoke, circa Thanksgiving 1964
Cadets parade the Skipper cannon through the streets of Roanoke, circa Thanksgiving 1964

As one tradition was beginning, another was ending. After World War II, Virginia Tech had grown from a small military college to a much larger, civilian-dominated university, and the football program grew to a league standing far beyond that of VMIs football team. Thus, the old football rivalry came to end, taking with it the Thanksgiving Day game tradition. The last Thanksgiving Day game in Roanoke between Virginia Tech and VMI was played in 1969.

While Thanksgiving might not be what it once was at Virginia Tech, some of the college traditions it started still live on, without which Virginia Techs identity would certainly not be the same. So as I dig into my turkey this Thanksgiving, Ill be thinking about how it helped to create our mascot, and the next time I hear the Skipper cannon fire at a home football game, I will thank the Thanksgiving game tradition for inspiring 50 years of that iconic feature of Virginia Tech football.

For more about the Thanksgiving Day game tradition, check out Pre-WWII Thanksgiving at VPI. For more about the story of the Skipper Cannon, check out The History of “Skipper”.

Hidden History at Special Collections II: The Harold B. Bailey Autograph Book

One of the great pleasures of working with manuscript collections is the discovery of the unexpected. When delving into a collection for the first time, one can never be sure just what surprises may be found. The Harold Balch Bailey autograph book, housed within the Bailey-Law Collection (Ms1982-002), is one such surprise.

The Bailey-Law Collection combines the papers of John Eugene Law and Harold E. Bailey (son of Harold Balch Bailey). Both men were accomplished ornithologists, though neither seems to have been formally educated in the subject. The collection contains ornithological field notes, subject files, printed materials, and photographs but is perhaps of more value for its many biographical files, assembled by Bailey, chronicling the lives and activities of other naturalists. Some of these files are extensive and contain correspondence and field notes of their subjects.

Given the collections focus on ornithology and naturalists, its a bit of a surprise to find ensconced here a small, fragile autograph book that has almost no connection to these two subjects. Assembled by the elder Bailey (himself a naturalist), the collection includes the autographs of more than 50 of the foremost personages of the 19th century. Gathered here are signatures of three (possibly four) U. S. presidents; several Union Army generals; no fewer than 14 governors; and well-known authors, artists, and musicians.

Unfortunately, as so often happened in early autograph-collecting, little value was placed on the source material. So, while some of the autographs are found on cards expressly made for the purpose, many others were clipped from documents. In fact, the autograph of John James Audubon is accompanied by a note from his granddaughter, explaining that the letter from which the signature was clipped had contained so many details of the familys home life that they couldnt bear to part with it. The Audubons had no qualms about mutilating the letter, however.

While these signatures have some artificial, market-driven value as objects and may be of general interest to some, most have negligible research value (except insofar as the collection as a whole tells us something about the collector). The context of some of the autographs, however, may be of some value to researchers. The signatures of poets Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr. and William Deane Howells, for example, appear below handwritten bits of their poetry, and the signature of artist W. L. Champney appears on an ink drawing.

Elsewhere among the elder Baileys papers are three items relating to the Massachusetts militia. One of these documents, dated 1836, is signed by J. Q. Adams, presumably former president John Quincy Adams, serving at that time as a Massachusetts congressman. Like the autograph book, these items seem out of place within the collection; because of their association with Bailey, they remain in a file under his name.

Historically, archives and other repositories have been victimized by overly eager autograph-hounds. If youve ever visited Special Collections and wondered about some of the restrictions in the Reading Room, bear in mind that its our mission to protect the objects in our care. The security measures are in place to ensure the preservation of our shared history and allow future generations the thrill of discovery.

An Eighteenth Century Take on a Greek Classic

On my first day working at Virginia Tech Special Collections as a graduate student assistant, I was given a tour behind-the-scenes. As I walked through rows upon rows of the stacks where our rare books are housed, practicing hunting down books based on their call numbers, a large folio book stamped with Thucydidis Historiae on the spine immediately caught my eye.  This book, published in 1731 in Amsterdam, presents book eight of Thucydidess history of the Peloponnesian Wars.  In his account, the Greek historian Thucydides traces the buildup of hostilities between the city-states, Athens and Sparta, and narrates the battles and events that occurred throughout the course of the war.  While I have encountered many other fascinating folios and tomes in our rare book collection, including other editions of Thucydides published in 1828, 1855, and 1950, this Thucydidis De Bello Peloponnesiaco libri octo remains my favorite.

Following a beautiful engraved frontispiece by J. C. Philips, the title page lists first the Greek title and then its longer explanatory Latin one.

Thucydides001

Thucydides000

My favorite part about this edition of Thucydides’s work is the frontispiece, depicting an eighteenth-century interpretation of a siege from classical antiquity.  You certainly don’t need to be a Classics scholar to appreciate the fine detail and artistry.  I notice something new every time that I look at this engraving.

Although not uncommon for this time period, the dedication and introduction are all written in Latin.  Similar to today’s Loeb’s Classics, which provide English translations alongside the original Latin or Greek, this 1731 edition of Thucydides also supplied aid for translating the Greek… albeit in Latin.  Thucydides002

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All the accompanying notes and commentary are also in Latin.  Since Thucydidess history of the Peloponnesian War was included within the traditional canon of classical texts that were instilled upon students in the academies in Europe and America during the eighteenth-century, perhaps it is not so strange to encounter Latin rather than English within this work.

We dont have a record here at Special Collections regarding this books exact history. To speculate, though, whoever owned or read this book was probably either educated or someone with status, and most likely both. However, when you visit Special Collections, you dont have to put on aristocratic airs or show off any classical knowledge to view and engage with our rare books like Thucydidis De Bello Peloponnesiaco libri octo.

A Moment of “Solitude”

Last week, I was over at Solitude for a meeting, so I have the building on my mind. In the four and a half years since I came to Virginia Tech, it’s found little ways to pop up every once in a while through reference questions, outreach opportunities, and occasional visits. And every time, I learn something new.

Solitude, 1890s, then a private residence.
Solitude, 1890s, then a private residence.
Solitude, 1931
Solitude, 1931
Solitude, 1967
Solitude, 1967

You can see many more pictures of the building online, as well as interiors from when the building was a private residence. The original house, part of which is still part of the modern structure, was built in the early 19th century by the Preston family of Smithfield. The first known expansion was in 1851, when the house belonged to Robert Taylor Preston, son of Virginia Governor and Colonel James P. Preston. Robert, who lived in the house until his death, wrote a locally famous call to arms from the house in 1863.

Robert Taylor Preston "Call to Arms," 1863, pg. 1
Robert Taylor Preston “Call to Arms,” 1863, pg. 1
Robert Taylor Preston "Call to Arms," 1863, pg.
Robert Taylor Preston “Call to Arms,” 1863, pg. 2. His note finishes with “Come therefore men of Roanoke & join us of the mountain & drive back the invader of our homes & firesides or die in the attempt…Shall we march without our neighbours I trust not”

Following the Civil War, the property remained in Robert’s hand. However, in 1871, he sold it to the state to be the basis for the new land grant institution, Virginia Agricultural and Mechanical College, with the condition that he and his wife could remain in the house. Preston died in 1880 and his wife. Mary, in 1882.

After Mary’s death, Solitude was the campus infirmary. By the 1890s, the house was private residence for faculty and it continued to be so well into the 20th century. After World War II, when the need for married student housing was on the rise, there were trailers on the surrounding land. The house itself was used as a club for students. It later reverted to a private residence and then, in the 1970s, was used by various departments on campus. In the 1990s, the building was closed while funds were raised for renovations. And in 2011, Solitude was reopened and is currently used by the Appalachian Studies Program.

This, by the way, is the VERY short history of the house. We have many, many resources in Special Collections on everything from renovations to photographs, newspapers stories to documents created in the house, and the complex history of the Preston family. If you’re curious, you should pay us a visit, But the real treat is visiting Solitude. Renovations may have hidden much of the older building, but it is still there underneath, overlooking the Duck Pond. The oldest building on campus is still with us today, as a gentle reminder of Virginia Tech’s long history.