Herbert Hoover, the only Stanford graduate to be elected to the White House, is a fascinating paradox. Considered among the best-prepared men for the presidency when he was chosen in 1928, he has since consistently ranked among the worst to hold that office. What happened? Was the Depression really his fault?
Professor David Kennedy has been pondering that question for years. An expert on 20th-century U.S. history, Kennedy recently wrote a couple of chapters on Hoover for a new book about America, 1929 to 1945. Kennedy's conclusion: Hoover doesn't deserve his much-maligned reputation and in fact took bold steps -- given the era -- to stem the financial ruin that eventually engulfed the country. Our cover story, "Don't Blame Hoover," is an adaptation of Kennedy's argument; it begins on page 44.
For other perspectives on Hoover, I did a bit of my own informal research, scouring back issues of predecessors to this magazine. In October 1928, the Stanford Illustrated Review urged readers to support Hoover's campaign. "Stanford Shoulder to the Hoover Wheel!" it declared in a pre-election headline. Four years later the publication showed less ardor. "Herbert Hoover, '95, made a brief stay at his home on the Campus last month," went the item. "He has been in Washington on government business." A few months after his death in 1964, the Stanford Review, as it was then known, wrote about a Hoover biography "that is unmarred by the bitter argumentative approach of some other biographies."
While browsing these old issues, I counted nine different names for Stanford alumni publications -- including the Stanford Alumnus (1899-1917), the Stanford Almanac (1961-81), the Stanford Observer (1966-1995) and, of course, Stanford magazine (1973-). I noticed, too, changes in style and content over the years. Now, with this issue, we enter yet another era. Though the magazine isn't changing its name (what's left?), we introduce some new features -- and a new look.
The centerpiece of our modest overhaul is a new section, Farm Report, which aims to keep you up to date on campus news, research and events. We inherit these responsibilities from the Stanford News Service, which for the last three years has produced the Stanford Today news pages, a magazine-within-the-magazine. We'll miss working closely with News Service editors Cecilia Rodriguez and Alan Acosta, but count on their continuing counsel and friendship. At the same time, we look forward to offering readers a unified, more cohesive magazine.
While we had our sleeves rolled up, we decided to make a few changes long under consideration. We expanded our section on Stanford books and authors, now named Shelf Life. And we beefed up Class Notes, adding more color to the pages and more photos and short articles throughout the section.
The redesign seeks to re-create for readers the physical experience of being on campus. That's why each main section -- news, departments, books, Class Notes and classified ads -- starts with a symbol of Stanford: the Muybridge horse, Hoover Tower, Rodin's "The Thinker," the Dish, a palm tree. To make you feel even more at home, Art Director Bambi Nicklen spent her lunch hours during July and August roaming campus with a fan of color swatches. Her mission: identify "Stanford colors" to use in tinted boxes, headlines and text. Eventually she created a Stanford palette of 47 shades. Check out Sandstone (box on page 20), Purple Mist (page 30) or Eucalyptus (page 100).
As the magazine introduces these new features, we also, I'm sorry to report, say farewell to the most senior member of our team. Editor-cum-screenwriter-cum-novelist Raymond Hardie, whose eight years of service began as honcho of Stanford's Centennial Issue, has moved to San Diego, where he's closer to the business of Hollywood and his wife takes up a teaching post at UC-San Diego. Tenacious and innovative, Raymond brought some memorable stories to these pages, including my all-time favorite, "The Prisoner and the Professor," in 1997. He also was a source of wisdom and guidance to me -- and entertainment to all. Though Raymond can't remember a name, he can't forget a joke.
One of Raymond's final contributions was ensuring that we cover more "regular alums" in our revamped Class Notes. This issue features short profiles of a Chinese-American actress and the proprietor of a general store; a reminiscence by a woman nostalgic for the heyday of co-op housing in the late 1970s; and a photo essay on a venture capitalist with a penchant for burritos.
They're all proof that you don't have to live in the White House to be interesting.
