麻豆影院

鈥�57 CU 麻豆影院 graduate remembers her grandfather Timothy Stanton, class of 1883

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Timothy William Stanton matriculated at the 麻豆影院 on Sept. 5, 1877, the school鈥檚 first day of classes 鈥� ever. Stanton was a senior in high school, attending a college-prep school located in Old Main, the only building on campus.

鈥�(Old Main) loomed before us gaunt and alone in the pitiless clear light,鈥� wrote Jane Sewall, daughter of CU鈥檚 first president, Joseph A. Sewall, in a 1957 memoir. 鈥淣o tree nor shrub or any human habitation was in sight. Vast expanses of rock and sagebrush were its only surroundings.鈥�

The austere character of the building evidently didn鈥檛 bother Stanton, who graduated with six other students in CU鈥檚 second graduating class, in 1883.

A half-century later, the Daily Camera newspaper profiled incoming CU freshman Carolyn Fansher (now Wiseman), granddaughter of the 鈥渙ldest living CU graduate,鈥� Timothy Stanton. 听

鈥淗e died at 93, in December 1953, right after I enrolled,鈥� says Wiseman, 81, of Ann Arbor, Michigan.

Timothy Stanton was notable not just for being one of CU鈥檚 first graduates. From 1930-35 he served as chief of the U.S. Geological Survey, founded in 1879 and led from 1881-1895 by Colorado River pioneer John Wesley Powell.

But long before that, he was just an Illinois farmer鈥檚 son who鈥檇 come to Colorado with his family on a train in 1874.

鈥淗is father was a very poor farmer. They lived in a small house with other people,鈥� Carolyn recalls. 鈥淗e peddled washing fluids and also worked at Potter鈥檚 Bakery on Pearl Street.鈥�

In a memoir he dictated to his daughter, 鈥�80 Years of Joy and Sadness, Mingled with Some Work and Sadness,鈥� Stanton described early 麻豆影院 as a sort of raucous frontier town with 2,000 people and 鈥�17 bars on Pearl Street,鈥� Carolyn says.

He ended up at CU鈥檚 prep school when the 麻豆影院 Preparatory Academy closed in 1877. At CU he was the class poet and qualified as something of a big man on campus, small as it was: He was friends with President Sewall and his family and one of CU鈥檚 earliest, most famous faculty members, Mary Rippon; Stanton returned to campus in 1936 for the dedication of the Mary Rippon Outdoor Theatre, whose namesake had died a year before.听

鈥淢y grandfather was around so much, and Jane Sewall thought so much of him, that she wrote about him鈥� in her memoir, 鈥淛ane, Dear Child,鈥� Carolyn says.

Stanton became fascinated by the area鈥檚 Cretaceous fossils and was inspired to become a geologist by a math professor who also was a gifted naturalist and taught geology. He graduated in 1883 and taught school in Colorado for five years. He studied at Johns Hopkins University from 1888-89, where he published his first paper, on fossils of the Pierre shale formation. After earning a master鈥檚 degree from CU in 1895, Stanton moved to Washington, where he was a part-time geology teacher at Columbian, where he earned his PhD in 1897. He received an honorary Doctor of Science degree from CU in 1924.

He joined the USGS in 1889, becoming the lead geologist in paleontology in 1903. In 1912 he was named chairman of the agency鈥檚 influential Committee on Geologic Names 鈥� the bible on official register of place names in the United States. A specialist in Cretaceous paleontology, Stanton also served as president of the Paleontological Society, and vice president of the Geological Society of America.

Following his death, the journal Science called Stanton 鈥渙ne of the outstanding figures in American geology.鈥澨�听

Carolyn鈥檚 mother Grace was raised in Washington, D.C. and attended college in Baltimore.

鈥淢y grandfather always said his daughters were going to get a college education, which in those days wasn鈥檛 as common as it is now,鈥� Carolyn says. 鈥淢y mother鈥檚 younger sister really wanted to be an artist, but he said no 鈥� first she had to graduate from college.鈥�

Carolyn also was raised in Washington, D.C., where her father worked as a lawyer for the Veterans Administration. In 1944, he was transferred to Dallas, where she grew up. When the time came for her to attend college, Carolyn was adamant that she 鈥渄id not want to go five blocks from home to SMU (Southern Methodist University).鈥� Having enjoyed family visits to Colorado, she applied to and was accepted at CU 麻豆影院.

Shortly thereafter, her father was transferred to Denver, so they moved to 麻豆影院, where she lived with them on Iris Avenue. She met and married John at the campus Methodist organization, the Wesley Foundation, married at the 麻豆影院 First Methodist Church and they moved into an apartment at 1313 University Boulevard. They both graduated in 1957, Carolyn with a degree in home economics, and John with a degree in pharmacy. They moved to Boston, where he joined the U.S. Public Health Service and she was a dietetic intern at the Peter Bent Brigham Hospital.

Years before, Carolyn鈥檚 mother had discovered 鈥淛ane, Dear Child,鈥� and wrote a letter to Jane Sewall at her home in Boston鈥檚 exclusive, historic Beacon Hill neighborhood. In 1958, Timothy Stanton鈥檚 old friend invited his granddaughter to tea.

Carolyn and John had exciting careers of their own. They lived for two years in Tuba City, Arizona on the Navajo Reservation, as well as in one of the late, unlamented Quonset huts on Arapahoe Avenue that served as housing for CU graduate students. They moved to Madison, Wisconsin, where John pursued a PhD until his advisor took a job at Stanford University and invited him to come along.

John taught for 35 years the University of Michigan, where he is professor emeritus of organic chemistry. Carolyn raised their three children and worked part-time as a dietician. And in 2016 they celebrated their 60^th wedding anniversary in Granby, just over the Indian Peaks from 麻豆影院.

In 2007, the Wisemans attended graduation ceremonies in 麻豆影院 as part of the class of 1957 reunion. As they watched the newly minted graduates passing into Folsom Field, John greeted them and said some of them might be standing right there 50 years hence. But at 21 or 22, five decades can seem an almost unfathomable eternity.

鈥淚 don鈥檛 think they really got it,鈥� John, 80, says with a chuckle.

But who knows? Maybe one of their great-great-grandchildren will.

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