Siwasher?




 From The Knox Student

COLUMNS / DISCOURSE / OCTOBER 21, 2015

Letter to the Editor: Remember what ‘Siwash’ really means

Coming home from a wonderful 50th reunion at Knox, I was overwhelmed. It was very moving to sing the Knox Hymn with the choir. It was heartwarming to see so many of my fellow classmates, and it was heartbreaking to look at the Memorial Board and see classmates no longer with us. Perhaps because of those missing classmates, I feel it necessary to write about the ongoing controversy over the term “Siwash.” I applaud the continuing idealism of current Knox students but I am grieved that there is such a lack of understanding for the alumni attachment to and honor for the term “Siwash.” Let me explain why.

The origin of the term is a moot point. Whether George Fitch knew and understood the negative connotations of the term and made use of it for that reason or whether as a satirist, or he used it as a substitute for “Old Hogwash,” is now beside the point. Now that the negative connotations of this word have been exposed, you must wonder why the alumni are still hesitant to accept what seems like a simple and needed correction. There are reasons for the alumni’s hesitancy that are worth understanding.

Take the use of the word “mascot.” In the The Knox Student article, the word “mascot” was used four times; in the editorial it was used five. At no time was “Siwash” a mascot. A mascot is a physical representation of the thing itself. The university at which I taught has a “Max the Griffon”; my husband’s institution has a “Bobby Bearcat.” At no time was there ever a representation of a Native American “mascot” on the Knox campus. Old Siwash is most properly called a nickname, which is a term used less frequently in both articles (twice in the article, zero in the editorial). The analogy of Siwash to the Confederate Flag does not stand. The Confederate Flag was a “symbol” (neither a mascot or a nickname). Those who followed the Confederate Flag knew what they were fighting for: the continuation of slavery and Southern secession. One of the greatest things Knox has to teach is a preciseness in language and thinking.

To tell the truth, I never knew what Old Siwash meant, and I suspect many of my classmates would agree. It may have been mysterious, but it certainly wasn’t derogatory. For the 80-plus years that Knox used the name, students, professors and administrators were unaware of such connotations.

And here we come to the heart of the matter.

Under the banner of Old Siwash, Knox students and professors fought in World War II. More personally, in the 1960s and 70s,

Siwashers attended the March on Washington with the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Siwashers rode Freedom buses to the deep South to protest segregation.

Siwashers fought for equal rights for women on campus and in the world.

Siwashers protested AND served in the Vietnam War.

Siwashers joined the Peace Corps in record numbers.

Siwashers honored and participated in working toward equal rights for African Americans, Jews, Native Americans, women and international students.

Siwashers protested the attempt by Richard Nixon to subvert the Constitution of the United States.

This list could go on and on, and if you look closely today, you will find these same Siwashers fighting against the Patriot Act and Guantanamo, and fighting for rights for LGBTQ people.

In other words, to reduce the commitment and achievement of generations of Knox Siwashers to an unwillingness to listen to “our progressive opinions” denigrates these achievements.

Further, to set up a stand to exchange Siwash merchandise for Prairie Fire merchandise is an insult in that such an exchange would be one of our achievements for your “progressive opinions.”

Lastly, in seeking to “eradicate” Siwash from Knox history and language — not publishing pictures which contain the term, etc. — you “eradicate” much more than a politically offensive term. You eradicate 80 or more years of Knox history of people who marched, fought and acted in the cause of human rights. Repairing an ancient wrong is a worthy goal, but seeking to do so by wiping out the past creates an equal wrong. Those who “cannot learn from history are bound to repeat it.” Denial does not work. I do not expect current classes to embrace and become “Siwashers”; you know things we didn’t. But assuming that Alumni connection to the term “Siwash” is a matter of stupidity, stubbornness or “old fartism,” denies you a history and creates a gaping hole in the history of Knox.

 

Sincerely,

Karen Uitvlugt Fulton

Class of 1965

Knock, Knock, Who's There? Knox!

Jack Rudolph

The football fortunes of Knox College in Galesburg, Ill. were running at less than flood tide during the '60s. From 1960 through 1969 "Old Siwash" lost 70 games, tying three and winning only eight.

Of course, it had been worse—there was the period of 1931-34 when Knox suffered 27 straight defeats. The fact is, at no time in its long membership in the Midwest Conference had Siwash really alarmed its league rivals, let alone such superpowers as Nebraska and Notre Dame. Notre Dame?

Knox did play Notre Dame in football. It was quite a spell back, along about the time George Fitch's fictional fullback, Ole Skjarsen, was punching imaginary holes in opposing front walls At Good Old Siwash, and a lad named Knute Rockne was still in high school. But more than 70 years ago, on Nov. 8, 1902, Knox and Notre Dame had it out at Rock Island, Ill. for the Western "small-college championship."

Though a decade away from any sort of national stature, Notre Dame was still a tough kid on its own block, with a creditable record against Western Conference opponents; in fact, in 1902 the Irish were defending Indiana state champs.

In Captain Lou (Red) Salmon, revered by earlier generations of alumni and fans as the greatest fullback in their history, the Irish had their first All-Western star. Running low, with a high, jarring knee action. Salmon could hit a line so fast and hard it usually took two or three tacklers to stop him; he had given Michigan a rough time a few weeks earlier, though the Irish had lost: this was the only defeat on Notre Dame's record going into the Knox game.

At the time, Siwash was no patsy either, having beaten Northwestern and Kansas, losing only to Chicago 5-0 after soundly outplaying the Maroons. A big, agile line, led by 232-pound George Martin and 210-pound R.R. Franz, operated in front of a small, fast backfield featuring Quarterback Johnny Grogan and Halfbacks Joe Zalusky and Chuck Hopkins. Babe Wilson at end and Henning Ackerson at fullback lent substance to the offense.

Zalusky was Knox's mini-counter to Salmon. A gutty little athlete, Joe not only ran the ball but, like Lou, did all the kicking. At safety he was a tiger on punt returns, as he had proved to Northwestern a couple of weeks before with a 106-yard runback (the fields in those days were 110 yards long).

The week before the game the tide of excitement spilled over the Knox campus to engulf Galesburg. It even got to the school's crosstown rival, Lombard College. Saturday morning a whooping mass of 800 souls was on hand when the team took off for Rock Island. South Bend and Notre Dame, it might be noted, were taking things more casually.

A sellout crowd of nearly 4,000 packed the Rock Island baseball park that afternoon, among them a courageous character perched on a small platform atop a tall pole, high above the bleachers. He was a telephone operator hired to relay the play-by-play back to the offices of the Galesburg Evening Mail via a leased long-distance line.

The game didn't start until 3:15, when Salmon kicked off to the Knox five-yard line. Zalusky returned 15 yards. The first play failed to dent the Irish, but on the second Joe lit out around left end, turned the corner behind good blocking and went 67 yards to the Notre Dame 23 before being brought down.

Here Wilson took over, sweeping the Irish ends four times before being pushed up and over the packed Irish defense for the last two feet. Zalusky kicked the goal and Knox had a 6-0 lead only 4½ minutes into the game.

Stung by the quick touchdown, Notre Dame recovered a fumble at the Knox 38 after the kickoff and turned Salmon loose. Sometimes hurdling, sometimes bulldozing straight ahead on 12 of 13 plays, Lou smashed to a first down on the Siwash six. He hit the middle for two more, but the Knox goal-line defense dumped him for a slight loss on the second try. With only one down remaining (in 1902 you had to gain five yards in three downs instead of 10 in four) and four yards to go, Irish Quarterback Fuzzy McGlew tried to make it with a now long-forgotten maneuver called a quarterback kick. Siwash Captain Fred Ewing checked the move by getting to the ball first.

After Zalusky punted to midfield, Knox got a break when Martin stormed through to block and recover Salmon's return kick, but the opportunity fizzled in another fumble. The rest of the half was a bitterly waged standoff.

Much of the second half was a beautiful duel between Salmon and Zalusky. Joe skirted end once for 30 yards but was short on a 50-yard placement attempt, while Lou continued to bounce off the hardening Knox defense. Notre Dame's unimaginative attack, consisting mostly of sending Salmon and Jim Doar straight up the middle, was effectively smothered.

Then, with about 10 minutes left to play and darkness approaching, a holding call gave Knox possession on the Irish 18. Ackerson blasted four, five and nine yards to put the ball only a foot from the goal line, then went over. A tired and battered Zalusky converted, making the score 12-0, favor Knox, before giving way to Fred Prince, the only substitution for either side all afternoon. By now it was too dark to see the play from the stands, but after the kickoff Notre Dame retrieved a fumble on the Siwash 33, and Salmon shot through center for 12 yards. George Nyere added 15 and the Knox defenders resorted to flattening anybody who ran, including each other, in an effort to locate the ballcarrier. End Harry Whitmore was knocked stiff on the play, lying on the 25-yard line with Franz standing over him vainly trying to call time out. Notre Dame lined up quickly and sent Salmon through the shorthanded defense for a touchdown.

Knox had not even tried to stop him, arguing that time had been called and the touchdown didn't count, but the referee let it stand. When Nyere's try for goal failed because he couldn't see the goal posts, everybody agreed to call it off, though three minutes remained on the clock.

Even before the Evening Mail's intrepid aerial reporter had descended from his perch, back in delirious Galesburg feverish planning had begun for a rousing welcome home to the sturdy Knox team that had bludgeoned Notre Dame 12-5 to reign as "college champion of the West."

For what was the first, and may well remain the last, time.

January 21, 1974

Sports Illlustrated