Fraternity Life

Pauling's fraternity pins

“I was one of the founding members of the Oregon State Chapter of Delta Upsilon, and was present at the installation – in fact, I had prepared the petition that was submitted to the fraternity, and was successful in getting the fraternity to set up the Oregon State Chapter.”

- Linus Pauling, 1988

Linus Pauling’s undergraduate career was characterized by the emergence of a number of the qualities that are now strongly associated with his personality. It was during this time that Pauling began to build his reputation as a confident, determined, and sometimes stubborn individual of great intellect. However, when Pauling first arrived here at Oregon State University – or Oregon Agricultural College as it was then known – not only was he lacking confidence, but his social skills were also in need of some improvement. Fortunately, Pauling found help with these matters from his Gamma Tau Beta and Delta Upsilon fraternity brothers.

Pauling’s fraternal associations began during his sophomore year at OAC when he was invited to join Gamma Tau Beta (probably, he later said, to help bolster the house grade point average). He accepted the invitation, and was quickly integrated into fraternity life with his newfound brothers. They gave him the rather dubious, but apparently affectionate, nickname of “Peanie” and always made sure to include him in house activities. For Pauling, social interaction of this caliber was new.

Pauling in drag at a "Feminine Section Interfraternity Smoker," Oregon Agricultural College, ca. 1920.

Unfortunately for Pauling, however, the younger members of Gamma Tau Beta were required to go out on a date each week. If this requirement wasn’t met, the offender would be subjected to the punishment of being submerged and held underwater in a bathtub filled with cold water. This punishment, called “dunking,” was a Greek custom, and it wasn’t long before it was administered to the then shy and short-on-money Pauling. Before being dunked, he decided that enduring the punishment once was probably enough, and put his scientific mind to work. He began to breathe deeply in order to saturate his blood with oxygen. When he was put in the tub, he let the seconds tick by until he had been under for an entire minute. Soon, his fraternity brothers became frightened and, thinking that something disastrous had occurred, quickly pulled him out. Pauling, of course, was fine, and never again had to worry about being dunked.

Hazing rituals aside, Pauling seemed to enjoy fraternity life and came to regard it as having served a crucial role in his maturation. Pauling comments on this fact in a letter to Thomas D. Hansen, the Executive Director of Delta Upsilon, written on June 14, 1988:

The Oregon State Chapter of Delta Upsilon and its predecessor, the local fraternity Gamma Tau Beta, played an important role in my life. My father had died when I was nine years old, and, up to the time that I became a member of Gamma Tau Beta, there was no one who strove to teach me how to get along with my fellow human beings. As a result, I was rather quiet and withdrawn, to such an extent that I had few friends. My brothers in Gamma Tau Beta and Delta Upsilon helped me to develop my personality and to communicate with other people more effectively. In particular, they encouraged me to participate in the college activities in public speaking and oratory and to develop my confidence in my abilities.

As it turns out, Pauling would become an important character in the evolution of Gamma Tau Beta. Sometime during his first two years as a member, he drafted a petition calling for the affiliation of Gamma Tau Beta with Delta Upsilon. In 1922, during Pauling’s senior year at OAC, the request was granted and the Oregon State Chapter of Delta Upsilon was officially installed.

Delta Upsilon chapter petition.

Even in his later life, Pauling remained a proud member of Delta Upsilon. He stayed in contact with many of his fraternity brothers, and, whenever possible, would take time out of his extraordinarily busy schedule to attend fraternity reunions, anniversary banquets, and other events. In 1988, Pauling received the Delta Upsilon Distinguished Alumni Achievement Award.

For more information on Linus Pauling in Oregon, check out our Oregon 150 series. For general information on Linus Pauling, please visit the Linus Pauling Online portal.

Pauling’s Freshman Diary, Part 2

In part one of our look at Linus Pauling’s Oregon Agricultural College diary, we covered the genesis of document as well as a few of the young Pauling’s more interesting entries. Today, we’ll discuss some of subjects most prominently occupying Pauling’s thoughts both before and after he left for college. Although Pauling undoubtedly had much to think about during this time, a few specific topics dominate his entries.

First, it is interesting to note that Pauling, even at the age of sixteen, wrote in his diary with the same detailed, precise, and occasionally cumbersome prose that tended to define the more formal writings of his later life. One excellent example of this tendency is found in one of his earliest entries, written on August 30, 1917.

I regret to say that I have this minute laid my fingers on the top of the little stove in which I was burning some waste paper, and in this manner have caused the formation of blisters fully 1/3 cm in diameter on each of the four fingers of my dextrum. They are already visible, although formed only a minute ago. They do not interfere with my writing, but pain me considerably.

Another particularly interesting example is dated September 6, 1917.

The more I look at myself in the mirror the more peculiar my physiognomy appears to me. I do not look at all attractive, but I am a prejudiced judge. I already have faint horizontal wrinkles in my forehead, and my upper lip projects to an unnecessarily great extent. I must remember to restrain it.

[For the sake of comparison, see Pauling's account of a hallucination experienced some fifty-seven years later.]

Although other entries along these lines do make appearances, the majority of Pauling’s writing before he left for O. A. C. is focused on his various jobs. In particular, the teenager details time spent working at a movie theater named The Echo, his short stint at Apple’s Meat Market, and a job in the machine shop of the Brown Portable Conveying Machinery Co. For the most part, these entries are not particularly intriguing, but do provide a nice timeline for a portion of Pauling’s blue-collar adolescence.

Business card for Palmon Laboratory, Pauling's joint venture with his boyhood friend, Lloyd Simon.

More interesting are Pauling’s accounts of a photograph-developing business started by himself and his friend Lloyd Simon. The first mention of this business is found in an entry dated September 5, 1917.

Lloyd, while working at the Portland Rubber Mills, made the acquaintance of Dave Beutler, who is a very good photographer; i.e., from the developing side. We three are going to install in our lab (a 14’ x 14’ structure in Lloyd’s basement), a complete developing, printing, enlarging, tinting, etc., establishment, enlarging a specialty. We will attempt to get the trade of Huntley’s and, after that, of other places. Tomorrow, I will have a business conversation with Mr. Zeigler, and will show him samples of Dave’s ability as a photographer.

In this same entry, Pauling also writes:

We are accordingly on our way to becoming firmly established in business. The company will probably purchase a second hand motorcycle for use in delivering and collecting work, and Lloyd will use it before and after school. If I get $5 to $10 a week throughout the year my college course will present few pecuniary difficulties.

The next few pages of the diary are composed of a business plan developed by Pauling and very detailed records of the company’s expenses. Unfortunately, their business seemed to never hit its stride. The last entry in which it is referred to is dated September 28, 1917. It is the last we hear of the company, even though its mention contains no talk of failure.

Pauling and friends, freshman year at O.A.C., ca. 1917.

After Pauling leaves for college, his writing undergoes an understandable change in direction. Two excerpts from his first Corvallis entry, dated October 7, 1917, read:

I have a nice big room, much larger than two boys usually have. I will share it with a sophomore named Murhard, who has not yet arrived. Last night the two other boys and I killed about 50 yellow jackets there with a fly swatter. There are two rooks; one, a 20 yr. old talkative fellow, named Hofman, weight 175# and always talks about his girl, Millicent, nicknamed “Titter.” The other, Henry is a very quiet, small young man, but slightly deaf. He will take Commerce, and Hofman will take Forestry….

Last night at the train I met Mr. Johnson, and his small son. He asked me if I was new, and said he was the head of the math department. According to the catalogue he is: Charles Leslie Johnson, B.S., Professor of Mathematics. I intend to take every one of his courses offered in Mathematics.

From there on, Pauling’s diary focuses more and more on finances. Because money was very tight for him in his first year of college, most of the remaining pages are filled with long lists of expenses and strategies for making ends meet.

Amidst the ledgers, there remain a few compelling entries that allow us to glean telling information about the make-up of young Pauling. In an entry dated October 10, 1917, he records:

I’m getting along all right. Cleaned the fountain today and serpentined with a couple of hundred other rooks to the football field, where we yelled for O.A.C. and sung some songs. We then marched to Waldo hall and sang “How green I am” to a crowd of inmates. We were guarded by about 20 sophs.

And in one of the diary’s final passages, dated October 29, 1917, Pauling reveals himself in a manner duplicated by untold numbers of diarists throughout the generations.

Saturday (two days ago), I went to work at Kincaid’s chopping word. I saw Irene at 8 o’clock in morning. I saw her again once during morning. In afternoon she went to game. About 6:30 I called her up and asked her to go to the show. She consented, and I got up some speed getting ready. We went to show and to A’s & K’s. Sunday I stayed away all day, then called her up about 6 and went to Presbyterian church with her. I do not know whether she likes me or not. I hope she will go to Lyceum with me Sat. night. I must remember to reserve seats for it. Then we will have reserved seats for all Lyceums this year. She is the girl for me. She is 17 years old and is about 5’5” tall. She is rather light and fragile. On account of lack of strength she is taking a special course in Dom. Sc., together with stenography. She lives with her uncle and Aunt, Mr. & Mrs. Kincaid. They have been in Corvallis about 4 months, having lived in Eugene before. She said she had never gone with anyone for over six months, but I will show her. I must not, however, monopolize her. She has pretty curly hair. Her last name is Sparks. I must be as nice as possible to her.

Overall, much of Linus Pauling’s diary helps to prove the point that his adolescence was anything but typical. However, a select few entries also show that beyond all his extraordinary characteristics, he still had the feelings and concerns typical of a young man.

For more information on Linus Pauling in Oregon, check out our Oregon 150 series. For general Linus Pauling information, please visit the Linus Pauling Online portal.

Pauling’s Freshman Diary, Part 1

Linus Pauling wearing his "freshman beanie," ca. 1917.

Linus Pauling’s childhood and adolescence would not be classified as typical, especially by today’s standards. From a very young age, his life was largely defined by an immense interest in his education and an incredible work ethic. On top of devouring every book he could get his hands on, breezing through his normal school work, and engaging in free-time scientific pursuits, Pauling was also forced to spend his days working. By the end of his high school career, he had worked well over half a dozen different jobs.

Fortunately Pauling was also able to find time to participate in activities that were considered more normal for his age. He enjoyed playing outdoors – especially as a young boy – and wreaked his fair share of havoc in the small wild-west town of Condon, Oregon. He also spent time visiting friends and family. And at the age of 16, he began writing in a diary.

Pauling’s diary, or the OAC diary as it is known here in Special Collections, begins with a single file folder annotated with the word “diary” alongside Pauling’s signature. The first entry, dated August 29, 1917, gives some insight into the reasons why he decided to start recording his thoughts.

Today I am beginning to write the history of my life. The idea which has resulted in this originated a year or more ago, when I thought of the enjoyment that I would have could I read the events of my former and younger life. My children and grandchildren will without a doubt hear of the events in my life with the same relish with which I read the scattered fragments by my granddad, Linus Wilson Darling. This ‘history’ is not intended to be written in diary form or as a continued narrative – rather, it is to be a series of essays on subjects most important in my mind.

Regardless of his intentions, the document does take on diary form, and in the next few pages more entries written by Pauling are intermixed with various items that were apparently of some importance to him. One such item is a newspaper clipping of a wedding announcement for Mrs. Linus Vere Windnagle. Pauling’s rationale for saving this seemingly random clipping is found a few pages later when he writes:

This [is] from today’s Oregonian. I will save all reference to any Linuses or Paulings.

Another notable item is a business card from “Palmon Laboratories,” the independent chemical research company that Pauling and Lloyd Simon attempted to launch with when they were only fifteen years old.

Flipping through the pages of the diary, one finds that Pauling recorded many interesting nuggets of information from his earlier life. One undated page is entitled “Tentative Resolutions” and is comprised of a list of Pauling’s goals for his first year at Oregon Agricultural College.

I will make better than 95 (Mervyn’s record) in Analysis (Math). (I made 99 6/11 % in Analytic Geom.).  [Pauling's older cousin, Mervyn Stephenson, also attended OAC.]

I will take all the math possible.

I will make use of my slide rule.

I will make the acquaintance of Troy Bogard.

I must go out for track and succeed.

Certain of these resolutions are best explained by looking at other entries in Pauling’s diary. For example, this excerpt from an entry dated Sunday, September 16, 1917, explains why Pauling feels that he must track down Troy Bogard.

Mr. Benedict, of the Pacific Scale and Supply Co., after a trip to a place where he was to set a scale, said that at some town he had seen a young man, with whiskers, dirt, and ragged clothes, whom he had thought to be a tramp, but who was an O.A.C. student working in the harvest fields. He told him about me, and the young man said for Mr. Benedict to tell me to look him up at Corvallis. Bennie could not remember my name, never having known what it was. The young man, whose card is in an envelope marked ‘High School Reminiscences,’ although not belonging there, was named Troy Bogard, of Woodburn, Oregon, and is a Senior in Farm Crops at O.A.C.

Diary entry by Linus Pauling, September 17, 1917

Pauling’s curious resolution about his slide rule can also be explained by diary notations. In another excerpt from the September 16 entry, he writes:

Early last fall, as I was crossing a field on the way to school with a bunch of boys, I found a slide rule. The other boys had stepped over the box in which it was, but I picked it up. I watched the advertisements in the daily papers for many days, but it was not advertised for. It is a polyphase duplex slide rule, made by Keuffel and Esser Co., and costing about $7.50. Its number is < 4088-3 >. It is 12 inches long and contains 12 scales.

Another entry, this time dated Friday, September 21, 1917, contains a brief mention of the slide rule.

Last winter I found a Keuffel & Esser Co. polyphase duplex Slide Rule < 4088-3 >. I will be able to use it in college.

One of Pauling's many slide rules (with case).

As it turns out, Pauling did put his slide rule to excellent use – it would quickly become (and remain) his calculating tool of choice, one with which he developed an uncanny proficiency.

And of his other resolutions? As indicated by the addendum to the first, it appears that Pauling was able to handily beat his cousin’s record in Analysis. Furthermore, Pauling also took a great deal of math in his college career. Whether or not it was all the math “possible,” we do not know, though surely Caltech enabled his studies where OAC may have been lacking. As for meeting Troy Bogard, it is unknown whether or not Pauling was ever able to track him down. And finally, Pauling’s single obvious failure of the bunch was succeeding in track. Although he did try out and ran in one meet, he never actually made the team.

Make sure to check back later this week for part two of our OAC Diary post. For more information on Linus Pauling in Oregon, check out our Oregon 150 series. For general information on Linus Pauling, please visit the Linus Pauling Online portal.

Period of Transition: Pauling in Corvallis

Linus Pauling, age 17.

Corvallis, the home of Oregon State University, sits adjacent to the Willamette River in the central Willamette Valley. Nestled between Portland and Eugene, and a reasonable distance from both the Pacific Ocean and the Cascade mountain range, Corvallis offers close proximity to a large variety of outdoor activities and big city accommodations while maintaining the feel of a small town lifestyle. Corvallis’ reputation as a green, vegetarian-friendly, and bicycle-friendly community also help to define its place on the map.

However, when Linus Pauling arrived here in 1917, Corvallis was an entirely different place. As opposed to its current population of roughly 50,000, Pauling’s Corvallis housed only about 5,000 people within its city limits. There were certainly no bike-lanes or vegetarian-friendly restaurants, and Hewlett-Packard, a major employer here, wasn’t even an idea yet. Furthermore, Oregon State University, which Pauling chose to attend because of financial necessity, was known as Oregon Agricultural College.

Painting of Oregon Agricultural College, ca. 1912. Image courtesy of the OSU Libraries University Archives.

Interestingly enough, Pauling’s entry into the college world was not marked by his characteristic confidence. Because he was only 16, Pauling was worried about how he would compare to his older and (he assumed) more intelligent classmates. Nonetheless, he pushed his fears aside and before long, had arrived for his first year as an undergraduate.

Pauling started out as, more or less, a typical underclassman. He moved into a boarding house with his cousin Mervyn Stephenson, and enrolled in the classes required for the mining engineering field. He also developed a fair amount of school spirit, or ‘beaver pep’ as he called it. He wore the green beanie required of all freshman, attended and cheered at sport events, joined the student military cadet corps, and began searching for romance. Within a few weeks, Pauling had moved out of the boarding house for financial reasons, had developed a clear idea of the classes he enjoyed and didn’t enjoy, and had taken an interest in a co-ed, although their association wouldn’t last very long.

As might be expected, Pauling’s favorite courses were math and the physical sciences. Not only did he truly enjoy these classes, but he excelled in them as well. In fact, he found that he had no more trouble mastering college level courses than he did mastering his high school classes. However, Pauling didn’t succeed in every class he took. He received a D in mechanical drawing – a subject for which he didn’t have enough patience – and an F in freshman gymnasium after his attempt to work around the rules for taking the class failed.

Pauling's freshman year grades.

Pauling’s sophomore year at OAC was much like his first. He continued to outshine his classmates, was given a job in the chemistry department’s solution room, and also joined a fraternity, Gamma Tau Beta. Between his studies and his job, Pauling had very little free time. This set the precedent for the long hours of hard work that would, in part, define the rest of his life.

Pauling’s third year at OAC, however, was as different from the preceding two as could possibly have been the case. As the end of summer was approaching, Linus’ mother Belle told him that she needed to use all the money he had earned to make ends meet at home. Instead of protesting, Pauling agreed, and prepared himself to make the best of a year at home.

However, the chemistry department at OAC had a very different plan. Burdened by unexpected staff shortages, and fearful of losing their prize student, the department decided to offer him a job teaching quantitative chemistry – a course he had taken only a year earlier. Although the job would be a cut in pay from a job that he had found as  paving instructor for the state’s department of transportation, Pauling didn’t hesitate and headed back to Corvallis. He wasn’t able to take any classes, but Pauling enjoyed the job. It gave him good experience as a lecturer and an excellent opportunity to catch up on the latest research in the field of chemistry.

In 1920, after his yearlong stint as a chemistry instructor, Pauling reentered the OAC chemistry program as a junior. By this time, he had gained a great deal of self-confidence. He was closer in age to the rest of his classmates, officially an upperclassman, and was building his reputation as the smartest man on campus. He continued to have no trouble mastering his courses, and began to develop an interest in public speaking, which he took far enough to compete in a school-wide contest (he finished second).

The next year, as Pauling was traveling home for Christmas vacation, OAC offered him a new job teaching freshman chemistry for home economic majors. Thinking the extra money would be useful, he decided to accept the offer. On his first day of class, a young student by the name of Ava Helen Miller caught his eye. As time went on, they began to become more interested in each other until finally, Pauling asked her to go on a walk with him. From there, their relationship grew, and just before the end of the term, Pauling asked her to marry him. She said yes, and he promptly lowered her final grade by one letter to avoid any possibility of favoritism.  The location where Linus and Ava Helen first met, Education Hall Room 201, is now marked by a plaque.

Science Hall, now known as Education Hall, Oregon Agricultural College.

During his senior year, Pauling also began thinking about graduate school. It was clear to him that his goals in life required a higher education than was attainable at OAC. He applied to several schools that offered advanced chemistry programs including Harvard, Berkeley, and of course, the California Institute of Technology. Although Caltech was the youngest and smallest of the schools, they made Pauling the best offer. He decided to accept, and at the end of the summer of 1922, armed with his B.S. in Chemical Engineering, Pauling left his bride-to-be Ava Helen behind in Corvallis and headed for California.

Pauling's senior yearbook entry, 1922.

For more information of Linus Pauling in Oregon, check out our Oregon 150 series. For general information on Linus Pauling, please visit the Linus Pauling Online portal.  For more on Pauling’s undergraduate years, see the Pauling Centenary Exhibit or the Linus Pauling at OSU site published by the Department of Chemical, Biological and Environmental Engineering.

Checking in on Condon

Main Street, Condon, Oregon. August 2009.

Over time we have written with some frequency about Condon, Oregon, the small farming community where Linus Pauling spent much of his youth.  And though we have come know a fair amount about the history of this little town in Gilliam County, it was not until recently that the Blog had an opportunity to actually visit the area and take a few pictures.  Here are a few things that we saw:

Herman Pauling’s pharmacy building, written about here, no longer exists.  In its place is a lovely little park.

Former location of Herman Pauling's drugstore. Now a park on Main Street, Condon.

Gone too is Pauling’s first school – the Condon Grade School built in 1903.

Condon Grade School, built 1903. Photo courtesy of the Gilliam County Library.

Linus Pauling (far right) with his Condon elementary classmates, 1909.

We had known about Pauling Field at the Condon State Airport, but this was our first glimpse.

Pauling Field, Condon State Aiport.

We had also known about Linus Wilson Darling’s (Pauling’s maternal grandfather) grave, which is located at the Condon City Cemetery, but did not realize that he was buried next to Florence Darling, one of his six children, a toddler who died twenty-two years before her father at the age of two.

The Condon City Cemetery.

Linus Wilson Darling's marker, Condon City Cemetery.

Grave of Florence Darling, Condon City Cemetery.

Close inspection of L. W. Darling’s marker indicates that he was very proud of his fraternal memberships – the plaque notes that “Here Rests a Woodman of the World” and elsewhere bears a symbol of the Knights of Pythias.  And though most of the marker has not been restored, the spherical stone at its peak appears to have been turned to a more symmetrical position, at least when compared with this 1988 photo.

Linda Pauling Kamb, Linus, Pauline and Lucile Pauling at the grave of L. W. Darling, Condon, Oregon. 1988.

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Our trip to Condon was rendered decidedly more fruitful by a visit to the terrific Gilliam County Historical Society museum which features, among other artifacts, an antique bicycle-powered jigsaw.  The society’s collections also include a few very rare images of William P. Murphy (Condon’s “other” Nobel Prize winner) who, as it turns out, was a member of Condon High School’s first graduating class in 1909.

The Condon High School class of 1909. William P. Murphy (incorrectly identified as Will J. Murphey) is seated at the far right.

Here’s an Oregonian image of Murphy and his family as they set off to Sweden for the Nobel festivities in 1935.

William P. Murphy and family en route to Sweden. Image first published in the Sunday Oregonian, July 21, 1935.

The Historical Society’s Pauling-related collection includes a fabulous vertical file of stories that appeared in the local media throughout the years.  One such article, written in 1969 during Pauling’s trip to Corvallis for the centennial celebration of Oregon State University, recounts many of the more interesting details of Pauling’s colorful family history.

All the Darlings were highly intelligent people, although some had quite a percentage of oddity.  W. L. Darling, ‘Bill’ a brother of L. W. Darling, was a paper hanger and a painter.  He was also a confirmed spiritualist.  His control was an Indian named ‘Red Cloud.’  Chatting with the spirits was an every evening affair with Bill.  He was trying to get the spirits to tell him the location of the lost gold mine in the Lonerock Country.

The article further notes that

Pauling’s aunt Stella Darling was a safe expert.  She could open any safe and had a national reputation.  She once traveled to London, England to open a safe.

The vertical file likewise includes documentation of various births, weddings and deaths, most of which are written with a great deal of local flavor.

Announcement of Herman Pauling's wedding to Belle Darling, Condon Globe, May 1900.

Announcement of the births of Linus and Pauline Pauling, and the death of Herman Pauling. Condon Globe and Condon Times, 1901, 1902, 1910.

Announcement of the birth of Lucile Pauling, Condon Globe, 1904.

Our favorite item though, is this announcement of the marriage of either H. C. Pauling or Louis Carl Pauling to Miss Ava Helen Miller, as reported in the Condon Globe Times on June 29, 1923.  Note, in particular, the flipped ninth line of the first paragraph – part of the cost of doing business during the era of handset news type.

"Former Condon Boy Married," Condon Globe Times, June 29, 1923.

Condon is not an easy place to access – it was built to serve the needs of area farmers and is nowhere near a major highway.  Our afternoon in the town was, however, defined by the kind of small-town hospitality that would seem a cliché were it not so genuine.  We’re already planning a return visit.

For more stories of Linus Pauling’s life and times in Oregon, see our continuing series commemorating the Oregon150 celebration or visit the Linus Pauling Online portal.

Lucile Pauling (1904-1992)

Francis Lucile Pauling, 1923.

Less is known of the youngest Pauling sibling than is the case with Linus and Pauline Pauling. What can be said is that, of Herman and Belle Pauling’s children, Lucile—quiet, shy, and warmhearted—was the least hardheaded of the three. Always unsettled when trouble arose between family members, she often took on the role of peacekeeper in the Pauling family.

Frances Lucile Pauling, known to everyone as “Lucile,” (and named after one of her mother’s favorite poems, “Lucile” by Owen Meredith) was born in Oswego, Oregon on New Years Day, 1904. Though both her brother and sister remained rather skeptical of their upbringing, Lucile would always remember a happier, more normal childhood – despite circumstances that might suggest otherwise.

Following Herman’s death in 1910, Belle Pauling, overwhelmed by the prospect of raising three children without financial support, opened a boardinghouse with the hopes of providing a living for herself and her children. After both Linus and Pauline left home when they were just teenagers, Lucile stayed behind to care for her mother and help look after the boardinghouse. Belle, whose pernicious anemia often kept her bedridden for long periods at a time, had relied heavily on her children to help make ends meet.

Lucile, Linus, Belle and Pauline Pauling, 1922.

From an early age, Lucile devoted herself to her music. An accomplished pianist, she studied and taught music lessons when she wasn’t helping her mother.

In 1926, Belle, her health deteriorating, sold her boardinghouse for the amount of ten dollars. The buyer and new owner, at least on paper, was Lucile. After renting out the boardinghouse, Lucile and her mother moved to a nearby apartment, where Belle’s pernicious anemia intensified following the move. Her symptoms became so severe that Lucile could no longer care for her. In turn, Belle’s sister, Goldie, was called upon for help.

Pauline (second from left) and Lucile Pauling on a camping excursion with two friends, ca. 1920s.

As a result, Belle was admitted to the state hospital for the insane. Upon visiting for the first time, Lucile was so overwhelmed by the sight of her mother in the mental ward that she tearfully begged that Belle be removed. Unfortunately, Lucile’s request could not be fulfilled and Belle, at the age of forty-five, died just weeks after being admitted. Later, burdened with disappointment, Lucile wrote to her brother, “I left decisions, [Belle’s] care, everything, up to others, being absolutely immature and irresponsible, and easily led.” She would always regret not knowing how to better care for her mother.

In the late 1930s, while working as a secretary in Portland, Lucile married Lemual Lawrence Jenkins (known as “Jenks”). Their son Donald was born soon after and the family settled in Estacada, Oregon. Lucile cared for the family home while continuing her music studies, teaching lessons and accompanying local musicians on the piano. Due to Jenks’s “restlessness,” the couple moved eight times in Estacada, finally finding the right place just before his death in 1965.

The Pauling and Jenkins families: in back, Linda Pauling, Don Jenkins, Crellin and Peter Pauling; in front, Linus and Ava Helen Pauling, Lemual and Lucile Jenkins. 1948.

Though she was keenly interested in her family genealogy, scant documentation of Lucile’s own golden years remains extant. She did not remarry and was plagued by chronic health problems – little else is recorded in the Pauling collection.

A sufferer of heart disease, Lucile died on January 19, 1992 of ventricular fibrillation. At eighty-eight years, her life was the shortest of the three Pauling children – Linus lived to 93 and Pauline to 101 – a remarkable fact given the short life-spans of Herman and Belle Pauling, who lived to ages 33 and and 45 respectively.

Linda, Linus, Pauline and Lucile Pauling at the grave of Linus Wilson Darling, Condon, Oregon, 1988. In retirement, Lucile maintained a keen interest in her family genealogy.

For more on Linus Pauling’s relationship with Oregon and its inhabitants (including his other sister Pauline) please see our year-long blog series commemorating the Oregon150 celebration.

Pauline Pauling (1902-2003)

Pauline Pauling with her sister Lucile, 1916.

My name is Pauline Darling Pauling Stockton Ney Dunbar Emmett, and you can see I’ve had an interesting life…

-Pauline Pauling Emmett, 1994.

The sister of one distinguished scientist and later the wife of another, Pauline Darling Pauling, the second oldest of the Herman and Belle Pauling’s children, led a long and eventful life. Once a record-breaking typist, a famous women’s athletic director, and a successful designer and businesswoman, Pauline found success in a plethora of careers and hobbies. Although she remained close to her Nobel Prize-winning brother over his lifetime, Pauline harbored more artistic aspirations than scientific ones. In addition to her professional success, she was a seamstress, quilter, painter, and coin and doll collector.

Pauline Pauling was born in Portland, Oregon on August 2, 1902. She remembers her childhood in Condon as “very stark,” remarking that “it was a wonder [the family] survived.” Following her father’s death in 1910 and the family’s ensuing financial trouble, her mother, Belle Darling Pauling, opened a boardinghouse to support the family. Linus, Pauline, and their younger sister, Lucile, were responsible for the many domestic duties of the boardinghouse as their mother, suffering from a general weakness (later diagnosed as pernicious anemia), had become increasingly dependent on the help of her children.

Pauline Pauling on a hiking excursion in the Oregon forest, 1921.

Pauline, an extrovert by nature, couldn’t wait to escape the small-town life of Condon. An energetic and pretty girl, Pauline became something of a socialite as a teenager.

She dated a string of boys, frequently attended swimming and singing events, and often arranged social get-togethers. As a student at Franklin High School in Portland, Pauline dropped out for a year to attend the Behnke-Walker Business School. There she learned Pitman shorthand and the touch system of typing. She would later become known for her speed typing, breaking the world record on a manual typewriter in an unofficial test.

Pauline Pauling participating in a filmed athletics demonstration, Los Angeles, 1920s.

She met her first husband, Wallace Stockton, while working as a secretary for the Elks Club in Portland. The couple later moved to Los Angeles, where Pauline worked as the Women’s Athletic Director for the Club. Known as the “Elkettes,” the women’s group, attracting some of Hollywood’s most famous stars, gained much publicity for its numerous activities and events. Pauline and Wallace Stockton divorced in the late-1920s.

On October 6, 1932, Pauline married Thomas Ney. After living in Santa Monica, the two moved to Inglewood, California, where their son, Michael Ney, was born on December 23, 1934.

Pauline Pauling, posing for a Paddies, Inc. promotional photograph, 1940s.

It was around this time that Pauline took notice of a men’s slipper in an issue of Vogue. Using the pattern, Pauline refined the design to create a women’s slipper. Soon after impressing her friends with the prototype, Pauline began making the slippers and selling them from her home. Subsequently, her initially-modest business (Paddies, Inc.) grew rapidly. She began marketing the “Paddy” slipper to upscale department stores like Saks Fifth Avenue, Macy’s, Neiman Marcus, and I. Magnin. Unfortunately, Japanese manufacturers were able to copy her design and thus flooded the market with a cheaper model. Pauline lost her big accounts and, as a result, decided to sell the company.

In 1950, Pauline and Thomas Ney divorced. After returning to Santa Monica, California, Pauline became interested in numismatics, eventually opening her own coin shop in 1960. It was during this time that Pauline became acquainted with Charles “Slim” Dunbar, a coin shop owner from Inglewood. The two were married on August 25, 1973. Sadly, Slim, in ill health, died just 23 months after their wedding.

Pauline Pauling, Paul Emmett, Lucile Pauling, Ava Helen and Linus Pauling, 1976.

Following Slim’s death, Pauline returned to Oregon. It was there that an old friend, Dr. Paul Emmett, re-entered her life. Dr. Emmett, a prominent catalysis scientist, was a longtime friend and colleague of her brother. Emmett was, as Pauline recalls, “underfoot every minute until [she] accepted his proposal.” The two were married on May 22, 1976.

Pauline Pauling with her big brother Linus, 1993.

Pauline, lively even in her later years, cared for Dr. Emmett (who suffered from Parkinson’s disease) until his death in 1985. Following her husband’s passing, Pauline continued to live in the Portland area until her death on October 19, 2003. She was 101 years old.

Check back next week when we’ll discuss the life of the youngest Pauling sibling, Lucile. For more stories of Linus Pauling’s connection to his home state, please see our growing Oregon150 series.

Pauling’s Best Friend: Lloyd Jeffress

Photo of Lloyd Jeffress, extracted from Physics Today, December 1977.

As a child, Linus Pauling had relatively few friends. After moving from Condon, Oregon to Portland, the death of his father and subsequent poverty forced him to work when not in school. The remainder of his time was consumed with studying and household chores, leaving little room for companionship. Pauling, even as a boy, was also exceedingly introspective and self-reliant, capable of quietly entertaining himself without supervision. Nevertheless, even the busiest and most independent children need friends.

In 1913, while walking home from school, Pauling began talking with another young boy, Lloyd Jeffress. The two quickly discovered a mutual interest in science and natural phenomena, and Lloyd invited Linus to his home to view a chemistry experiment. Pauling readily agreed and, within the hour, Lloyd was performing a series of basic chemical reactions that bubbled, fizzed and smoked, transfixing the young Pauling. It was on this day, in Lloyd Jeffress’ little Portland bedroom, that Pauling decided to become a chemist.

From that point on, the two boys were inseparable. When not at school or work, they were performing crude, and sometimes dangerous, experiments in the makeshift lab that Linus built in the Pauling basement. Using donated or pilfered chemicals, the boys created noxious gases and exploding powders while dreaming of getting rich as corporate chemists.

Video Link: Watch Pauling recount his and Jeffress’ early chemical experiments

As an adult, Linus Pauling often told a story of Lloyd Jeffress to friends and interviewers. At the age of fifteen, Pauling had imagined himself as a chemical engineer, working for one of the United States’ major companies. When Pauling told his grandmother this, Lloyd chimed in saying, “No, he is going to be a university professor.” Jeffress’ words proved prophetic, as Pauling spent more than thirty years as a professor at the California Institute of Technology.

Following high school, Linus and Lloyd both attended Oregon Agricultural College, where Pauling studied chemistry and Lloyd majored in electrical engineering. Jeffress, however, developed an interest first in physics and later in the medical field, eventually graduating from the University of California with a Ph.D. in psychology, while Pauling, of course, took at job as a chemistry professor at Caltech. Despite the divergence in their interests, the two stayed in intermittent contact for the following sixty years.

Lloyd Jeffress served as best man at Pauling's wedding. Linus and Ava Helen also gave their second-born son the name Peter Jeffress Pauling.

With Pauling at Caltech and Jeffress at the University of Texas in Austin, it was difficult for the men to meet. They visited one another as regularly as their schedules would allow, sometimes engaging in the tomfoolery of their youth. In a short manuscript written after Lloyd’s death, (see below) Pauling recounts their deceiving the guests at an academic event with Lloyd’s “mind reading” abilities, a hoax successfully planned and orchestrated by the pair. He also tells readers of Lloyd’s wedding, a hurried affair conducted by an unknown minister in Linus and Ava Helen Pauling’s small California apartment with only the Paulings to act as witnesses.

Jeffress, like Pauling, was a highly successful member of the academic community. Though his career began slowly, the breadth and depth of his research expanded considerably as he aged, with the vast majority of his papers being produced after his 50th birthday. As an expert in experimental psychology, focusing on psychoacoustics, he served as the chairman of the University of Texas psychology department, and even worked with various military-based programs.

Additionally, his longstanding interest in physics led him to take over some physics classes while serving in the university’s psychology department. Perhaps more surprising, his experience with wave transference resulted in work on mine-detecting devices for the United States military. Over the course of his career, Jeffress earned a series of awards and commendations for his excellence as an educator and for his contributions to the field of psychoacoustics. Pauling personally took great pride in his friend’s successes, expressing special interest in his scientific papers.

Following Lloyd’s death, Pauling was asked to write a brief narrative of their relationship as part of a tribute. In it, Linus described their meeting as boys and their lifelong friendship. In closing, he stated “I have many friends, but I continue to think of Lloyd Alexander Jeffress as my best friend.”

For more on the life of Lloyd Jeffress, please see Pauling’s typescript below, as well as this lengthy memorial resolution (PDF link) prepared by members of the University of Texas faculty.  For more on Pauling’s links with Oregon, check out our continuing Oregon150 series.

“Life with Lloyd Jeffress,” by Linus Pauling, June 5, 1986.

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A Prominent High School Dropout

Linus Pauling posing with his honorary high school diploma, 1962.

Interviewer: Where did you go to high school at in Portland?

Pauling: I went to Washington High School for 3 ½ years, so that my whole high school career was there. It was on the east side of Portland.

Interviewer: How come they wouldn’t give you a diploma?

Pauling: Well, I didn’t finish the requirements. I started in February and by June of 1917, I had completed, essentially, the high school course. I hadn’t taken a one year course in American History. I planned to have it in my last semester. But there was a rule that said you couldn’t take the second half of a course simultaneously with the first half. So, I just wasn’t allowed to take American History. I didn’t return to high school in the fall, but was admitted to Oregon Agricultural College in 1917. I came down [to Corvallis] then.

-Oral history interview, Oregon State University, May 20, 1980.

Linus Pauling, as might be expected, developed an interest in learning at a very early age. By age six, he had already reached the second grade of the elementary school in Condon, Oregon. At eight, he developed an interest in ancient civilizations, and by age nine he had read almost every book in the Pauling household, including works such as Darwin’s On the Origin of Species. In February of 1914, right before his 13th birthday, Linus entered Washington High School in Portland, Oregon, having finishing an accelerated grade school program.

East Portland High School, the second oldest in Portland, was renamed Washington High School in the early 1900s. It was later rechristened Washington-Monroe High School, and eventually closed in the early 1980s because of declining enrollment. In its prime, however, WHS was a great school and, for a young boy keen on learning all he could, there was no better place to be.

In his first semester, Linus took a standard course load consisting of elementary algebra, English, Latin, and gym. After the summer, he returned to WHS for the full year and took his first actual science course, physiography. In this course, Linus was taught about minerals, which he found very interesting. Subsequently, he began a rock collection, and although it never grew to be very large, he enjoyed analyzing and classifying his specimens.

Before long, Linus was taking a course load of above-average difficulty. On top of his normal classes, he continued with Latin and began taking every science and math course he could. Mathematics and the sciences quickly became his favorite subjects, because, as Linus later remembered it:

It’s like the story of the little boy who, when his teacher asked him, ‘Willie, what is two and two?’ answered, ‘Four.’ And she said, ‘That’s very good, Willie.’ And he said, ‘Very good? It’s perfect!’ I liked mathematics because you could be perfect, whereas with Latin, or in studying any language, it’s essentially impossible to be perfect.

As his high school career progressed, Linus easily maintained his challenging schedule and still managed to find time outside of school for other activities. In fact, high school never presented any sort of challenge to him. This was fortunate, because he needed every minute of his free time to work his various jobs, and also to feed his ever-growing appetite for chemistry, which he had developed around the same time he entered high school.

Although chemistry quickly became Linus’ main interest, he wasn’t able to take many classes on the subject. He took first-year chemistry as a junior, which was the only chemistry course that was offered at WHS. Fortunately, the teacher of the course took a liking to Linus, and he was allowed to stay after class to work on additional problems during both his junior and senior years.

W.V. Green was an important early mentor of Linus Pauling. This annotated extract is from Pauling's W.H.S. yearbook, ca. 1917.

In his last semester of high school, Linus took his first physics course. The instructor of this course impressed Linus, and specifically emphasized the importance of the use of precise language in the sciences. One of the main points that Linus took from high school was the importance of the careful use of language, not only in the sciences but in all aspects of education. Linus even tried his hand at fiction writing, which resulted in his English teacher encouraging him to write a novel. Linus’ appreciation for languages and reading would be a great help to him throughout his career.

At the end of his seventh semester at WHS, Linus had run out of math and science classes to take. He had also completed all of the requirements for graduation, except for the year of senior-level American history required by the state of Oregon. Upon learning of this requirement, Linus decided to return to WHS for his last semester after summer break, with the intent of taking the two required history courses simultaneously. This decision was quickly vetoed by the principle, and although Linus had been impressed with the thoroughness of his high school education, he decided to attend Oregon Agricultural College (now Oregon State University) in the fall without a high school diploma – none was required by OAC at the time.

Although this was a natural decision for Linus, it soon provided him with a fair amount of anxiety. The following, written on September 5, 1917, is an excerpt from his diary.

Yesterday and today the feeling has often come to me that never more will I go to school. I think of all the other students beginning their studies, I imagine how I am [sic] member of the graduation class, would appear at Washington, I remember the enjoyment I got out of my studies and school life in general, and I sometimes poignantly regret that I have decided to go to college without graduating from high school. I covet every term of education that I have, and would gladly have more. College still seems so dim and far away that I often forget all about it. In a month and a day from now I will be in Corvallis. I try not to think of College, because of the way it affects me. Why should I rush through my education the way I am?

Despite his nervousness, Linus stuck with his decision and did not return to WHS. He left for college in early October and ended up thriving at OAC. He would eventually go on to have an extremely long and distinguished career as one of the most influential scientists in history. And finally, in 1962, he was awarded an honorary diploma from Washington High School.

For more information about Linus Pauling and his relationship with Oregon, please visit the Linus Pauling Online portal or check out the previous posts in our Oregon150 series.  For those interested in the history of Washington High School, have a look at this great alumni website.

Tales from Pauling’s Boyhood: The 1917 Shipbuilders’ Strike

Linus Pauling, 1917.

In 1917, Pauling began a diary, (known simply as the “OAC Diary” among Special Collections staff) in which he described his activities, thoughts and feelings, many of which are both enlightening and entertaining. Just as interesting though, are some of the entries about life in the early 20th century. The diary contains a number of historical gems dating from Pauling’s time in Portland and Corvallis, including the following excerpt; an entry dating from either late September or early October 1917 and describing a strike among shipbuilders along the Oregon coast.

About 10,000 iron and wooden shipbuilders are striking in Portland, with corresponding amounts in other Pacific coast cities. Accordingly I will not get to see the Mt. Hood, the largest motorship in the world, launched. This is the second week that Supple and Ballin, across the river, has been idle. About 60 wooden ship and 12 steel ship ways are near Portland. The Mt. Hood and three sister ships of wood with Ballin’s patent steel reinforcements. The War Monarch, War Baron, War Viceroy, Landoas, and other ships now building on the Northwest Steel Co’s four ways, are of 8,800 tons. The three ships being built at the Coast Ship Building Co.’s place are about 10,000 tons.

After a little digging, the OSU Special Collections staff was able to turn up the fascinating history behind this little-known strike. In honor of Oregon’s 150th year in the Union, we would like to share that history today.

By early 1917, World War I was raging through Europe. Woodrow Wilson, U.S. president from 1913-1921, had maintained a policy of isolationism and neutrality throughout the war, leaving the U.S. relatively unaffected by the massive conflict. In January 1917, however, the situation changed drastically. British intelligence intercepted and decoded the Zimmerman Telegram, an order for the German delegate in Mexico to broker a treaty with the Mexican government. This treaty, if enacted, would require Mexico to go to war against the United States.

Furthermore, in February 1917, the German navy resumed unrestricted submarine warfare, a practice that had previously resulted in the sinking of the Lusitania and the deaths of nearly 2,000 civilian passengers, including hundreds of Americans. The U.S. could no longer remain neutral and, on April 6, 1917, the United States formally declared war on Germany and its allies.

The fall of 1917 saw the U.S. war movement in full swing with troop deployment and military buildup well underway. With this boom in military-minded production, underpaid laborers saw opportunity. In early September, wooden shipbuilders up and down the coast of Oregon began plotting a walkout. They knew that, with the need for ships and at an all-time high, plant management would be forced to meet their demands in order to get production back on schedule. Unfortunately for the would-be strikers, word of the plan got out. On September 14, the day before the walkout, E. W. Wright, manager of McEachern Shipbuilding in Astoria, closed his plant for the weekend, effectively superseding the workers’ strike.

Outraged by Wright’s actions, the McEachern workers accused Wright of locking out pro-union workers. The workers struck, citing their rights as union laborers rather than their initial demands for increased wages. On September 16, the Carpenter’s Union and other unions associated with the Metal Trades Council declared a strike as well. The following day, one hundred National Guard troops were sent to Hammond Lumber Co. in Astoria to protect non-union workers from the picketers. Many decried the Governor’s use of the National Guard, noting that no violence had occurred during the strike. This was the first time that National Guard troops had been mobilized during a strike in Oregon since 1898.

Following several unsuccessful meetings between union representatives and shipyard management, metal workers in Portland and Seattle struck in late September, expressing their solidarity with their fellow laborers. The following day, it was announced that Northwest timber companies had lost a series of large Federal lumber orders as a consequence of “uncertainty in the labor market.” Because wooden shipbuilding was on hold in the Northwest, the U.S. government had no reason to purchase timber there. Instead, the government was forced to move many of its contracts to California, where shipyards were still operating.

In early October, three weeks after the strike had begun, the halt in shipbuilding was becoming a danger to the U.S. war effort. The federal government approached shipyard owners, demanding that a solution be found immediately so that production might continue. After another week of fruitless negotiations, the U.S. government stepped in and the Federal Labor Adjustment Board began a series of hearings meant to force negotiations between the owners and laborers. As the hearings continued, the strikers increased their picketing, hoping to gain public support and cow the shipyard management. On October 17, 140 picketers were arrested in front of the Northwest Steel Company compound. As a result, union leaders agreed to stop all picketing until an agreement was reached.

On October 21, a deal was finally brokered between the two parties, with the shipyard owners conceding a small pay raise to the workers. The following day, the U.S. government announced the end of its wooden shipbuilding programs for the duration of World War I, unofficially discontinuing the use of wooden ships in the U.S. military. The shipbuilders returned to work on October 23 with orders to complete all commissioned ships, aware that the strike in which they had engaged had contributed to the demise of an entire industry.

Almost undoubtedly, the shipbuilders’ strike had far-reaching consequences that have greatly impacted the history of the Pacific Northwest. With the loss of government funds originally earmarked for Oregon timber and coastal shipbuilders, and unemployment rising in the wake of the demise of the wooden ship era, Oregon’s economy was altered drastically. It is difficult to imagine what the state’s industry, economy and population might look like today had this important event played out differently.

(And it is unknown whether Pauling ever saw the launching of the Mt. Hood.)

To learn more about Linus Pauling, visit the Linus Pauling Online portal.