The Deans' Bible. Angie Klink

from the college president stated that she was to be in the history department.

      At the foothills of the Great Smoky Mountains, Tusculum is the oldest college in Tennessee. The college is famous for its landmark, “The Arch,” a stone archway built at the front of the shady campus after the American declaration of war in 1917.

      An August 21, 1941 letter from Tusculum President Charles Albert Anderson to Bev stated that she was to have added responsibilities as hostess in the dining hall in charge of service during mealtimes. He wrote that Bev’s room was to be on the first floor opposite the stairs with a bed, dresser, two tables, and two chairs, and that it had “just been freshly papered with yellow.” He provided the dimensions of the room’s windows so that Bev could obtain curtains.

      President Anderson also suggested that Bev participate in some meetings prior to the arrival of the students for the academic year and, “It would help to have you direct a woman who will clean Virginia Hall.” At age twenty-five, Bev’s life was taking shape as she settled in to preside over the women’s hall baring the name of her home state, deciding the perfect drapes to match her yellow-papered walls.

      It appears that Bev turned a lemon of a situation during Freshman Week into some southern lemonade, and her superiors noticed. A letter to Bev from Dean Leslie K. Patton states: “I want to take this opportunity to express my genuine appreciation for the splendid way that you handled the problem of scoring the tests during Freshman Week. From my observation and from what I hear from others, I think that you just about ‘worked a miracle.’ … In the name of the college I want to tell you that we are very grateful.”

      Whatever “miracle” Bev worked, the dean went on to ask that Bev prepare in writing a plan for scoring the tests and a report on how she believed the job should be done for future exams. It appears that Bev had gone above and beyond her duty and solved a scoring glitch in the freshmen testing. It must have been a shining, memorable event for Bev, for she saved the letter of commendation from Dean Patton for the remainder of her life.

      The Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in 1941, and the United States entered into World War II. When the head of Tusculum’s chemistry department left to accept a position in military research at Johns Hopkins, Bev was called to the office of the president. He asked her if she would teach quantitative analysis and organic chemistry to premed students. While Bev had taught chemistry at the high school level, all of her graduate work had been in student personnel administration, so she was uncertain about the proposed teaching position.

      The president convinced Bev that it was her “patriotic duty” to accept the challenge. Most of her students were men. Bev said, “For the organic course, I worked harder than ever in my life. I spent fifteen hours preparing for each lecture. But all of the med students who applied were accepted for medical school.”

      Throughout her life, Bev was described as “a lady.” She often wore her signature pearls with her favorite color—pink. She frequently wore a cardigan loosely draped over her shoulders, the sleeves dangling like angel wings. Bev was charming and sincere, able to command a meeting with the proper tone and grace, garnering respect from men and women alike. Perhaps to some, Bev’s decision to enlist in the United States Navy was seen as out of character.

      By the spring of the next year, America was in an all-out war, and male students received draft notices daily. Bev became convinced of her desire to serve in one of the armed services. Two female role models influenced Bev’s desire to apply for the United States Naval Women’s Reserve (the WAVES, “Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service”).

      Bev had read about Mildred McAfee, a president on leave from Wellesley College (where Helen Schleman had obtained her advanced degree in hygiene and physical education in 1928). Mildred had been appointed director of the WAVES. When Bev arrived at Tusculum, she discovered that Mildred had been a faculty member there and was a campus legend, greatly beloved and respected. When Mildred was selected to head the WAVES, the news media gave great attention to Tusculum. Soon after, Mildred appealed to women in higher education to apply for commissions in the navy, and Bev wholeheartedly heeded the call from the woman she so admired.

      The other role model who influenced Bev’s attraction to the navy was her favorite aunt, who had been one of the 11,000 plus yeomanettes in World War I. A yeoman (or female nicknamed “yeomanette”) is a member of the navy who manages the paperwork. Bev had been intrigued with photos and stories of her aunt and always was proud of her service. Women were employed as yeomanettes to meet severe clerical shortages during World War I. The Naval Reserve Act of 1916 (the year Bev was born) had conspicuously omitted mention of gender as a condition for service, leading to the enlistment of women in mid-March 1917, shortly before the United States entered the Great War.

      The yeomanettes primarily served in secretarial and clerical positions, though some were translators, draftswomen, fingerprint experts, ship camouflage designers, and recruiting agents. The majority were assigned duties at naval installations in the United States, frequently near their homes, processing the great volume of paperwork generated by the war effort.

      The yeomanettes wore wide-brimmed flattop hats with a band of ribbon imprinted with “U.S. Navy,” white gloves, white blouses with navy blue neckties, blazers, and ankle-length skirts. The insignia for a yeomanette is a pair of crossed quills, symbolizing her clerical duties.

      When Bev enlisted in the WAVES, her mother was supportive. Her father was opposed until he warmed to the idea and ended up rooting for his daughter. Bev said, “After I was in, my father was sure I was the one who had won the war.”

      Decades later, Bev spoke of her commissioning: “In September 1943, I entered Midshipman Training School at Smith College and was commissioned in November. I still remember Mildred McAfee’s address when our class was commissioned, in which she said she did not worry about women officers performing well when the going was rough—but in wartime, when of necessity there would be occasions when there would be over-staffing—she was concerned about how we would handle responsibility when the going was dull.”

      While Bev was enlisting in the navy to become a WAVE, at Purdue University Dorothy Stratton was answering her own call to create a newly spawned women’s reserve for the United States Coast Guard. Helen Schleman would follow Dorothy into the uncharted territory of women serving in World War II. And Mildred McAfee would be the common thread that would braid the lives of Bev, Dorothy, and Helen.