Dean Turnbull to Retire After 31 Years of Service
By BETTY ANN STEVENS
George Stanley Turnbull will be
missed next year. Retirement of
the mighty, diminutive dean of the
school of journalism is an event
marked by more than a generation
of newsmen and women throughout
the state. He knows all of them,
from the days of the first world
war—1917—to June 1948. His next
teaching post will be at Stanford,
whence originates his successor,
Clifford S. Weigle.
Reading a eulogy about himself
would cause gentle, soft-spoken
Dean Turnbull to hang his head a
bit to one side, smile, tap his teeth
with his black-rimmed spectacles,
and wince a bit with embarrass
ment, mannerisms well known to
senior editing students after four
years’ association with their
teacher of the fourth estate.
Simplicity First
There are innumerable fine ad
. jec'tives which could be applied to
the dean, but he insists upon sim
plicity as one of the first maxims
of good writing.
To the student, who is likely to
wander into jus small office in the
school of journalism at any hour of
the day, Dean Turnbull is an al
ways patient listener to tales of
academic progress and regression,
the job outlook, current affairs and
literature, old grads, affairs of the
heart, baseball news, and the latest
cure for a frog in the throat. He
considers informal conferences his
most valuable phase in teaching.
Student reporters and editors
of the Emerald find him the official
voice of the faculty in a weekly
honor-roll signed “G. T.,” posted on
the “shack” bulletin board. In his
evaluation, he lauds the brighter
aspects of the paper and mildly
suggests improvement in other de
partments. No one’s work is ig
nored.
Time Wheedlers
The journalistic neophyte who
attempts to wheedle extra time on
class assignments from the dean
probably will be successful. He may
even help invent excuses for the
student’s laxity. One of the most
warming facets of the Turnbull
personality is his unswerving be
lief in the goodness of human in
tentions. (That’s quite a feat after
31 years of teaching.) In the long
run G.T.’s uninsistence complete
fairness, and bending-over-back
ward policy usually brings forth
additional effort. The struggling
one feels obligated. It’s a point of
honor.
Some persons suspect he is the
original George of “Let George Do
It.” During the war years, upon the
death in 1944 of his good friend,
Eric W. Allen, Dean Turnbull as
sumed a new responsibility—not
only at the helm of the school but
as acting director of the Univer
sity news bureau. And with swell
ing enrollment, the school is 25 per
Caught in a typical classroom pose is George S. Turnbull, dean of
the journalism school, who retires this year after serving the school
for 31 years. (Photo by Kirk Braun)
cent larger than it ever has been.
English-Born
English-born George Turnbull
entered the academic life by way
of a newspaper career which be
gan at the age of 11 in Marysville,
Wash. His grandfather, a local cab
inet maker, was constructing a set
of type cases for a printer and sent
George to the printing office on an
errand. The youngster saw the in
side of a newspaper plant for the
first time. Large-eyed and thrilled,
he evinced so intense an interest
that the printer gave him a job set
ting type. Too small to reach the
type cases, he had to stand on a
high box.
Evidence of his encyclopedic
memory is the fact that he can re
member the first type he set. It
had to do with “the meanest man
in the world,” a farmer of Spencer
county, Pa., who sold a half in
terest in his cow to his son-in-law,
then refused to share the milk,
claiming he had sold only the front
half.
Worked Way
From that time on George Turn
bull spend his spare time in vari
ous newspaper offices, working his
way through grade and high
school. In his later teens he was
employed on the Bellingham,
Wash., Reveille when a big “reor
ganization” of the staff occurred.
As a result he found himself at 20
the managing editor of a fair-sized
daily. Then came an unfortunate
incident. He heralded in the edi
torial section of the paper’s atti
tude toward moving the state cap
Some Tassel Truths
(Continued from page tivo)
coming hat which has the unseemly trick of appearing to
grow out of the wearer’s head, by means of a two-strand stem.
This twisted thread has a loop at the top, and the loop is
placed over a button on the mortar board, so the tassel can
swing loose over the side of the hat. Thus is the tassel held in
place.
A smooth device, you think, with a minimum of loose ends
and shagginess. But. and here the inefficiency enters, the
fallacy is easily discerned. You catch one of the tassel strands
in your gown collar, and not one, but two strands pull out,
disturbing the whole ingenious system. The tassel soon has a
definitely tattered look.
It’s been estimated that a tassel a year is a pretty good
average. So, come June 13, should you see a senior nervously
jumping upon his mortar board or pulling threads like mad
from his tassel, don’t be harsh with him. Remember, someday
you too may be flipping your tassel.—J.B.S.
ital from Olympia to Tacoma,
characterizing those interested as
a “group of broken-down, discred
ited railroad politicians,” only to
find that the owner bf the paper
was one of the most interested par
ties.
Doing the obvious thing, Turn
bull promptly tendered his resig
nation, which was not accepted.
However, Seattle and a job of re
porter on the Post-Intelligencer
beckoned, which brought about his
entrance into the University of
Washington as a student in his
hours off the job. Some of the re
quirements of freshman undergrad
uate life galled George Turnbull's
sensibilities. It was irriating to the
seasoned newsman, who, coming
to college a bit later in life than
the average freshman, had to en
roll in military training.
Cut Classes
A letter to the head of the de
partment failed to ameliorate the
situation, so he did the next best
thing -cut classes. In due time,
when Lowerclassman Turnbull ap
plied for upperclassman standing,
his petition was refused. It was
ruled that he must complete the re
quired number of class hours in
hated military drill.
Fanning the flame was a loath
ing, not only of the uniform’s cut
and color, but of the time expended
in taking it on and off. So, he re
belliously purchased a uniform
large enough to go on over his reg
ular clothes, and drilled and drilled.
On completition of the last hour he
draped the cadet blue on a nail in
the gymnasium and left it, disdain
ing the $6 it might have brought
on resale.
Despite working his way through
school, he compiled an excellent
scholastic record. (He boasts that
he didn’t miss a day’s work on the
P.I. all the time he attended the
university.) After moving over to
the Seattle Times as copy editor
and acting assistant city editor, he
was lured to Oregon by Eric Allen,
Emerald photographer Kirk Braun invaded the Turnbull home tb
catch this family scene. Seated in front of Dean Turnbull is daughter
Sarah, surveying the family’s record collection. Mrs. Turnbull knits
while Stan studies in the background.
who had worked with him on the
P.I.
One of the most outstanding
Oregon journalism classes in Dear
Turnbull’s memory is that of '23,
for in it were Palmer Hoyt, former »
publisher of The Oregonian, who
now is publisher of the Denver
Post; Charles Gratke, foreign
news editor of the Christian Sci
ence Monitor, and Miss Mary Lou
Burton. Especially Miss Burton,
She came forcibly to his attention
during her freshman year when she
decided she was capable of enter
ing his reporting class without the
prerequisite elementary journal
ism. And Miss Burton had her
way.
Four years after she was gradu
ated from the school, July 31, 1927,
they were married in Eugene. The
bride, a Theta Sigma Phi, had pur
sued a journalistic career too, in
covering the legislature for the
Oregon Voter. Her newspapering
also included papers in Bend and
Eureka, Calif. She now is alumnae
adviser for Theta Sigma Phi.
First Edition
Their first edition, George Jr.
(“Stan”), was editor of his high
school paper in Eugene, and this
year is a freshman in the school of
journalism. Sarah, their red-haired
16-year-old, as yet “writes only
imaginative bits.”
Contributor to periodicals and
author of “History of Oregon
Newspapers,” Dean Turnbull is a
member of Phi Beta Kappa, Sigma.
Delta Chi, Friars, Theta Chi, the
American Association of Univer
sity Professors, and the American
Association of Teachers of Jour
nalism.
Kwamas Choose
New President
Anne Case was elected president
of Kwaraa, sophomore women’s
service honorary, after being in
itiated with 28 other new members
Tuesday.
Other new officers are Jackie
Barbee, vice president; Sally Terrill,
secretary; Nancy Kunhausen, tres
urer; and Ann Goodman, reporter.
The new group will hold its
first meeting Tuesday evening at
the Pi Beta Phi house.
After the initiation old and new
members dined at the Anchorage.
Glenna Hurst was unable to attend
ar$ will be initiated at a later date.
Mingler to Leave
For British Isles
Richard Mingler, training officer
in charge of this area of the Vet
erans administration, plans to
leave June 25 for Nottingham, Eng
land, where he will study this
summer at the University college.
Mingler, who received his mas
ter of arts degree at the University
of Oregon in 1939, has served in
the VA position here since Nov
ember.
HOLIDAY
An Adventure in v.
Good Smoking
Larus & Brother Company
Richmond, Virginia
UTDOORS
and
On the way back
STOP AT
GREGG'S DRIVE-IN
Highway 99 South