A tumultuous 1971 merger that combined all of the state’s public colleges and universities into a single entity led to the creation of the University of Wisconsin System. Drawing on decades of previously unpublished sources, Patricia A. Brady details the System’s full history from its origin to the present, illuminating complex networks among and within the campuses and an evolving relationship with the state. The UW System serves as a powerful case study for how broad, national trends in higher education take shape on the ground. Brady illustrates the ways culture wars have played out on campuses and the pressures that have mounted as universities have shifted to a student-as-consumer approach. This is the essential, unvarnished story of the unique collection of institutions that serve Wisconsin and the world—and a convincing argument for why recognizing and reinvesting in the System is critically important for the economic and civic future of the state and its citizens.

If you have ever spent part of your life on the shores of Lake Mendota--whether student or staff, whether personally or vicariously as a parent, whether then or now--you will immediately recognize The University of Wisconsin: A Pictorial History as a celebration of that time and memory, of that community. It is part of your family tree. In eight lively, readable chapters Arthur Hove tells us the story of a tiny pre-Civil War land grant college that grew into the modern "multiversity" we know today (which, by itself, would be the sixth largest "city" in the state). But the text, engaging as it is, is really the frame for the book's most impressive feature--the exquisite album of nearly 400 photographs, thirty-two pages of them in full color, that capture the timeless moments and faces, the unforgettable characters and controversies, the high points (and the hijinks!) of 130 years of Badger lore. The words and images tell countless stories: of Bascom Hall, which was originally domed. After a mysterious fire destroyed the dome in 1916 it was simply never restored. of the famous "sifting and winnowing" plaque. The regents of the time didn't care for it much--academic "freedom" was a radical idea. It gathered dust in a basement for years before it was finally mounted in 1915. of Pat O'Dea, who made a sixty-three-yard drop kick against Northwestern in 1899. Lost and presumed dead in World War I, he was "discovered" in 1934 living under an assumed name in California. of Harry Steenbock, who was offered $900,000 (in 1925!) for commercial rights to his food irradiation process that eliminated rickets in children. Instead, he helped set up the WARF foundation to fund research from his patent proceeds.

Wisconsin Where They Row is the definitive history of rowing at the University of Wisconsin. Although this oldest of intercollegiate sports had its American beginnings in 1852 as a contest among Ivy League men, it would soon have to make room for the stubborn steadfastness of Wisconsin's athletes. Author Brad Taylor captures the unique character of Wisconsin crew and its athletes in this meticulously researched and abundantly illustrated book. Taylor recounts rowing's beginnings as the first UW intramural sport in 1874, the long and rich history of the men's crew, the establishment of the women's team in 1972, and the presence of Wisconsin rowers on every U.S. Olympic rowing squad from 1968 through 2004. Taylor tells of the UW men's victory in 1892 at Oconomowoc against the "Chicago Navy," their first competition against an outside club; the story of the famed Berry-Crate Crew; and the Badger crews' participation in the early intercollegiate regattas on the Hudson River. Taylor depicts how boats were shipped east by train; how one coach sacrificed most of his salary during the threadbare 1930s to keep the sport alive; and how thousands of spectators watched races from railroad flatcars and yachts. Taylor spent four years interviewing key figures, visiting race venues, and delving into the archives of college libraries, historical societies, and newspapers. The result is not only this book, but also a trove of information, rowing memorabilia, and some two thousand images of Wisconsin crew history that Taylor will donate to the University of Wisconsin archives and the new crew boathouse. Wisconsin Where They Row documents in detail an exciting story important to sports history, to Wisconsin's heritage, and to alums and fans of the Badger crew teams. It will appeal to anyone who thrills at the sight of oars flashing and shells skimming across blue water.

In the Progressive Era of American history, the state of Wisconsin gained national attention for its innovative economic and political reforms. Amidst this ferment, the "Wisconsin Idea" was popularized—the idea that a public university should improve the lives of people beyond the borders of its campus. During his term as governor (1901–1906), Robert La Follette routinely consulted with University of Wisconsin researchers to devise groundbreaking programs and legislation. Although the Wisconsin Idea is often attributed to a 1904 speech by Charles Van Hise, then president of the University of Wisconsin, David Hoeveler argues that it originated decades earlier, in the creative and fertile mind of John Bascom. A philosopher, theologian, and sociologist, Bascom (1827–1922) deeply influenced a generation of students at the University of Wisconsin, including La Follette and Van Hise. Hoeveler documents how Bascom drew concepts from German idealism, liberal Protestantism, and evolutionary theory, transforming them into advocacy for social and political reform. He was a champion of temperance, women's rights, and labor, all of which brought him controversy as president of the university from 1874 to 1887. In a way unmatched by any of his peers at other institutions, Bascom outlined a social gospel that called for an expanded role for state governments and universities as agencies of moral improvement. Hoeveler traces the intellectual history of the Wisconsin Idea from the nineteenth century to such influential Progressive Era thinkers as Richard T. Ely and John R. Commons, who believed university researchers should be a vital source of expertise for government and citizens.

A great university in turbulent times From the deluge of World War II vets on the GI bill through the 1960s radicalism that made national headlines, the University of Wisconsin's history has been a part of American history. Historians, as well as the University's hundreds of thousands of alumni, faculty, staff, and students, will welcome this fourth volume covering the University's recent past. E. David Cronon and John W. Jenkins record in lively, readable prose a period that began with the influx of returning war veterans, more than doubling the University's enrollment in a single year. They explore the dark McCarthy era of loyalty oaths and blacklists during the 1950s and detail the actions of University president E. B. Fred, who stood out among American academic leaders for his commitment to principle and fair play. The turbulent 1960s, which opened with students reporting on their summertime Freedom Ride experiences throughout the American South and ended with the Vietnam War-related bombing of Sterling Hall in 1970, are a record of how an era of idealism gave way to one characterized by angry dissent and disorder, the rise of women's liberation, flower power, black power, and student power. The history concludes with the passage of legislation creating the University of Wisconsin System of campuses in 1971--an action that followed nearly three decades of experiments, compromises, and political struggles involving several governors.

At a time when our colleges and universities face momentous questions of new growth and direction, the republication of Higher Education in Transition is more timely than ever. Beginning with colonial times, the authors trace the development of our college and university system chronologically, in terms of men and institutions. They bring into focus such major areas of concern as curriculum, administration, academic freedom, and student life. They tell their story with a sharp eye for the human values at stake and the issues that will be with us in the future.One gets a sense not only of temporal sequence by centuries and decades but also of unity and continuity by a review of major themes and topics. Rudy's new chapters update developments in higher education during the last twenty years. Higher Education in Transition continues to have significance not only for those who work in higher education, but for everyone interested in American ideas, traditions, and social and intellectual history.

Condensed milk : the development of the early canning industry -- Growing a better pea : canners, farmers, and agricultural scientists in the 1910s and 1920s -- Poisoned olives : consumer fear and expert collaboration -- Grade A tomatoes : labeling debates and consumers in the New Deal -- Fighting for safe tuna : postwar challenges to processed food -- BPA in Campbell's soup: new threats to an entrenched food system

Are homecoming games and freshman composition, Twitter feeds and scholarly monographs really mortal enemies? Media U presents a provocative rethinking of the development of American higher education centered on the insight that universities are media institutions. Tracing over a century of media history and the academy, Mark Garrett Cooper and John Marx argue that the fundamental goal of the American research university has been to cultivate audiences and convince them of its value. Media U shows how universities have appropriated new media technologies to convey their message about higher education, the aims of research, and campus life. The need to create an audience stamps each of the university’s steadily proliferating disciplines, shapes its structure, and determines its division of labor. Cooper and Marx examine how the research university has sought to inform publics and convince them of its value to American society, from the rise of football and Great Books programs in the early twentieth century through a midcentury communications complex linking big science, New Criticism, and design, from the co-option of 1960s student activist media through the early-twenty-first-century reception of MOOCs and the latest promises of technological disruption. The book considers the ways in which universities have used media platforms to reconcile national commitments to equal opportunity with corporate capitalism as well as the vexed relationship of democracy and hierarchy. By exploring how media engagement brought the American university into being and continues to shape academic labor, Media U presents essential questions and resources for reimagining the university and confronting its future.

T. Marshall Hahn, Jr., became president of Virginia Polytechnic Institute in 1962. By the time he left twelve years later, the school had become auniversity. No longer a small military school that emphasized agriculture and engineering for white male undergraduates, Virginia Technical Institute and State University had become a multiracial, coeducational research university with a thriving college of arts and sciences as well as burgeoning graduate programs.Bringing together the biography of a man and the history of an institution through a dozen years of transformation, Strother and Wellenstein discuss the school's tremendous growth in sheer numbers of faculty and students, the increased enrollment of female and non-white students, and the increased emphasis on intercollegiate athletics. From VPI to State University is the story of the transformation of public higher education in the United States -- especially in the South -- in the 1960s. Much of the book relies on the recollections of the people who -- as faculty, administrators, or other leaders -- experienced, even brought about, the changes chronicled in these pages.Warren H. Strother worked with Marshall Hahn for ten years while Hahn transformed VPI into a university. A South Carolina native, Strother grew up in Virginia and earned his bachelor's and master's degrees in Journalism from Northwest University. After twelve years as a journalist he worked at Virginia Tech from 1964 to 1990.

What is genius? Define it. Now think of scientists who embody the concept of genius. Does the name John Bardeen spring to mind? Indeed, have you ever heard of him? Like so much in modern life, immediate name recognition often rests on a cult of personality. We know Einstein, for example, not just for his tremendous contributions to science, but also because he was a character, who loved to mug for the camera. And our continuing fascination with Richard Feynman is not exclusively based on his body of work; it is in large measure tied to his flamboyant nature and offbeat sense of humor. These men, and their outsize personalities, have come to erroneously symbolize the true nature of genius and creativity. We picture them born brilliant, instantly larger than life. But is that an accurate picture of genius? What of others who are equal in stature to these icons of science, but whom history has awarded only a nod because they did not readily engage the public? Could a person qualify as a bona fide genius if he was a regular Joe? The answer may rest in the story of John Bardeen. John Bardeen was the first person to have been awarded two Nobel Prizes in the same field. He shared one with William Shockley and Walter Brattain for the invention of the transistor. But it was the charismatic Shockley who garnered all the attention, primarily for his Hollywood ways and notorious views on race and intelligence. Bardeen's second Nobel Prize was awarded for the development of a theory of superconductivity, a feat that had eluded the best efforts of leading theorists-including Albert Einstein, Neils Bohr, Werner Heisenberg, and Richard Feynman. Arguably, Bardeen's work changed the world in more ways than that of any other scientific genius of his time. Yet while every school child knows of Einstein, few people have heard of John Bardeen. Why is this the case? Perhaps because Bardeen differs radically from the popular stereotype of genius. He was a modest, mumbling Midwesterner, an ordinary person who worked hard and had a knack for physics and mathematics. He liked to picnic with his family, collaborate quietly with colleagues, or play a round of golf. None of that was newsworthy, so the media, and consequently the public, ignored him. John Bardeen simply fits a new profile of genius. Through an exploration of his science as well as his life, a fresh and thoroughly engaging portrait of genius and the nature of creativity emerges. This perspective will have readers looking anew at what it truly means to be a genius.