—By Alex Gelfand (’04)
Warning: The history that follows is filled with old-fashioned, sometimes-charming, but undoubtedly sexist language and ideas. Over 80 years later, our culture’s ideas of gender equality are markedly different, in part because of the pioneering efforts of such women as the first business co-eds at 17 Lex.
[dropcap sid=”dropcap-1394739505″ type=”3″]C[/dropcap]oeducation was once a radical concept at the School of Business and Civic Administration, today’s Baruch College/CUNY. The business school, then part of the City College of New York (CCNY), had moved less than a year before—in 1929—to its new downtown location at 17 Lexington Avenue and 23rd Street. The admission of women in spring 1930 added to the commotion and the excitement.
Reactions from the resident male population to the admission of female peers were mostly positive. Headlines in the main CCNY student newspaper, The Campus, were redolent with humor: “Hordes of Women Besiege Business Branch!” and “Male Students at Downtown Center Fall Madly in Love; Flames of Passion Set Fire to New 23rd Street Building.” Also, among the male students, some grumblings on the loss of bachelor freedoms could be heard. In a column with the headline “Welcome, Pretty Ones,” a Campus newspaperman wrote:
They are here to stay, and we take the wiser course in graciously, and condescendingly perhaps, accepting whatever Fate, in the trousers of higher authority, decrees. We could tell of the robust, unashamed bachelor freedom the school once had. We can bemoan our departed days of laxity of speech and dress, yet we cannot change events. Therefore, welcome to our home, pretty ones, we are wild about it all. (The Campus, Feb. 19, 1930, 3)
Reportedly outnumbered by their male counterparts by as much as 30 to 1, the female students created a buzz in the brand new building. The impact was such that the April Fool’s article in the college newspaper portrayed their appearance as an invasion:
Chaos and destruction rode into the Business Center late yesterday on the wing of female advances in the form of billing and cooing. Out of a clear blue sky, with the stars blazing fitfully, an army of sirenish females, led by Penthesilea, that hardy Amazon from Hester and Delancey Streets, swooped down upon the unprotected ramparts of the exclusive finishing school for accountancy clerks and proceeded to ravish it. (The Campus, Mar. 31, 1930)
Parodying Lord Tennyson’s well-known poem “The Charge of the Light Brigade,” the male students offered a poetic countercharge to the “army of females”:
Women to the right of them,
Women to the left of them,
Women to right in front of them,
Never they stumbled.
Flirted they did, and well.
Rushed into love pell-mell
Into the dance of life,
Into the arms of hell,
Oh, those sex-hungered. (The Campus, Mar. 31, 1930)
New Advisor for the Co-eds
For almost an entire year, little direct guidance was provided to the women who, in the words of one (presumably male) yearbook author, “flitted and flirted to their hearts’ content.” Things settled down toward the end of 1930, though, when Mrs. Ruth C. Wright was hired by the College in the newly created position of advisor to women. Mrs. Wright became a mother figure and friend to all business co-eds, who could turn to her if any problems arose.
Mrs. Wright often had her hands full, as the following fair-sex incidences will prove.
The Women Assume Their Place: Escapades and All
After one year, as the first class of women advanced to sophomore status, they decided to imitate their male counterparts in the ever-present freshman-sophomore rivalry, the purpose of which was to build class spirit.
Part of the rivalry involved sophomores creating a set of rules for freshmen to follow, with punishment meted out to those who did not comply. For example, entering female freshmen of the Class of 1935 were confronted with the following list of rules created by women of the Class of 1934:
1. Thou shalt wear no jewelry or high school insignia except Arista pins.
2. Thou shalt use no lipstick.
3. Thou shalt show due respect to all upper class men and women at all times.
4. Thou shalt wear a bow of lavender and black ribbon on the left shoulder during the first six weeks of the term.
5. Thou shalt know all the College songs and cheers.
6. Thou shalt carry with thee the Handbook, ready to be produced with marks of identification, on demand, by any sophomores or upper classmer [sic].
7. Thou shalt not be excused from obeying the above rules because of being engaged in extracurricular activities.
8. Thou shalt appear at the Freshman Sing.
9. Thou shalt greet all girls of the class of 1935 [sic].
10. Thou shalt memorize these ten commandments. (The Campus, Feb. 3, 1931, 3)
The rules were very similar to those promulgated by the male sophomores, but the ban on jewelry and lipstick resulted in pushback. “They’re stealing our sex appeal,” complained one member of the entering class, with the college newspaper noting:
Pale pink pouts darken the faces of the Frosh girls where lipstick was wont to flaunt its scarlet levitation to a gasping male populace. They claim that the catty sophomores want to dim their superior charms by prohibiting their beauty aids and jewelry. Despite their chagrin at being separated from their lipsticks, the girls are yearning for excitement. The rules are too tame, and are beginning to pall, they maintain. (The Campus, Feb. 16, 1931, 3)
The sophomores were of a different opinion, calling their new classmates “a bunch of pills and poor sports.”
The frustration of the freshman class culminated in the mock kidnapping of a sophomore by members of the female freshman class during a sophomore event:
A group of female yearlings, enraged at the sight of seven of their classmates parading to classes attired in white middle blouses, navy blue skirts, white cotton stockings, large red hair ribbons and the numerals ’34 emblazoned on their foreheads, kidnapped Elain Apt of the Soph Vigilance Committee. She was rushed down in a waiting elevator from the 7th floor to the first floor washroom where they tore off her dress and replaced it with a gym suit upon which sundry placards proclaiming downfall of the 34 class were placed. (The Campus, Mar. 23, 1931, 4)
Mrs. Wright was able to make peace between the two classes before the conflict got out of hand, and a repeat of similar escapades was mostly avoided (this was not the case between the male freshman and sophomores classes).
Irreplaceable: Community to Rally for Women Students
After only two years at the School of Business and Civic Administration, female students had become an irreplaceable part of the college. Their involvement could be seen throughout the school: from the dramatic society (the future Theatron), which they joined in large numbers, to the newly created Ticker student newspaper. When the administration reversed its earlier decision, banning the admission of women, the entire college community rallied to have them readmitted.
Related Article: Part 2
Continue with the history of the first female business students at “Fighting for Their Place: The Story of Baruch’s Earliest Co-eds”