Tom Tritton, President

On Humor

A century ago the four cardinal “humors”—blood, bile, phlegm, and melancholy—were thought to determine a person’s mental and physical constitution. Yuk…

When I was a kid growing up in the 1950s, “good humor” was an instantly recognizable reference to a chocolate-covered ice cream bar. Yum…

Nowadays, “humor” almost always refers to wit, comedy, and laughter. While not edible, and having no connotation of bodily fluids, these traits also may influence a person’s mental and physical condition, leading one to wonder if there has been any evolutionary progress in our understanding of human nature. Hmm…

The desirability of humor has become so strong that it is now a required professional qualification. Job descriptions often contain long lists of traits such as integrity, time management, interpersonal skills, etc., and end emphatically with a sense of humor. Personally, I think they’ve got it all wrong: a sense of humor should be first on the list for almost any job I can imagine.

The value we attach to humor was emphasized when the College invited Signe Wilkinson, Quaker editorial cartoonist for the Philadelphia Daily News, to be the annual Rufus Jones Visitor to the campus in the spring of 2003. Prone to tongue-in-cheek expression and giving a lecture titled “George W. Bush: Quakerism’s Most Valuable Player,” Signe put forth her view that by holding a moment of silence at memorial and other important moments in the nation’s activities, Bush promotes Quakerism. Of course, this view is based on the assumption that Quakers have trademark rights to “moments of silence” (come to think of it, assertion of Quaker proprietary rights IS fun to imagine). In celebration of this fantasy, Signe drew a cartoon of President Bush dressed in Quaker (oats) garb, an original work of art of which I am now the proud owner. For more of her special brand of wit and wisdom visit her website at: http://www.signetoons.com/

It may be a lesser-known fact—although of course thoroughly predictable— that Fords have long displayed a robust sense of humor through numerous pranks and high jinks. A couple of examples taken from A History of Haverford College, 1830-1890:
In the 1870s, terrible pillow fights between the residents of different dorm floors were causing much unhappiness on the Board and in the faculty. It was decided that direct supervision was the only solution to the malady of continuing pillow fights. Alas, the superintendent was away that night, and left the discipline to a gentleman, “long of limb, but somewhat short of sight.” The legend runs that a special committee of students followed him about his dormitory rounds, and blew out his candle as fast as he could light it. (Aside: modern students are ever so much more inventive in their misdeeds)

In the 1880s, the College was in one of those recurring periods when the faculty was convinced that the students were not serious enough about their studies. A well-recorded event demonstrated that even tense subjects can have humorous undersides: “For the whole of one night the College was kept in a state of disquiet by the appearance in Barclay Hall of a good-sized calf, surreptitiously borrowed from Robert Love, the farmer. The antics of the students in this connection were such as to excite the ire of those in authority, and one member of the Faculty, whilst endeavoring to quell the disturbance, narrowly escaped being fastened into one of the third-floor rooms, and spending the night with the cause of the excitement.” Perhaps this tale is what inspired the now famous (and apocryphal, according to a recent issue of the Bi-College News) legend of Chevy Chase installing a cow on the fourth floor of Barclay Hall.

In the 20th century we did not lack for humorous episodes. I have been regaled with numerous reports from alumni, most notably the late Steve Cary, of the practice of making wagers (a scandalous activity among Quakers) about who would stand up first to speak during the required Fifth Day Meeting for Worship. Luckily, no records exist as to who profited from this practice, although I am told that some wags would deliberately speak or not speak solely to upset the predictions of students who laid such bets.

Naturally, we also have our share of literary humor. The History of Haverford College, in describing The Collegian, a literary publication from 1849-50, notes that it published 222 articles (1,158 pages), 37 of which (219 pages) were “humorous” (the rest were devoted to such categories as didactic, poetical, editorial, travels, biography, and miscellaneous). Following advice for writing a quality literary effort, one student with the unlikely name of Tyro Lingo allows that he “strove verbosely to incomprehensificate an already insignificantly incommunicative and inconceivably non-understandable communication.” The Collegian also featured some miscellaneous works titled “Jack and Jill Analyzed, A Dissertation on Shaking Hands, Phonography and Phonotypy.” Who could resist?

Turning to the present, you might be able to lay your hands on a copy of The Incontinent Donkey, a recent student literary effort. This sporadic publication had its share of comic moments, but also exposed the risks of humor: one of the cartoons contained a caricature in what many considered to be a racist stereotype. The ensuing debates sometimes lost sight of the power of humor to illuminate difficult subjects, but also caused us to confront and discuss deeply held values of respectfulness and civility.

A sense of humor is central to my way of thinking about the world. There’s nothing better for the soul than a good laugh and almost (!) any situation can be improved by one. Comedy, irony, satire, whimsy, wit, absurdity, and pun are just some of the qualities of speech that can enrich our existence and make us hoot. Put them together with the raw material of life on a college campus and you have a riotous combination. Just think of it: student pranks, faculty jests, administrative bloopers, alumni tomfoolery, Class Night monkeyshines, and much, much more. And couple this with a president who loves to collect jokes and you have a combustible mixture for raucous good humor.

Along those lines, have you heard the one about... .