Did my memory deceive me? I didn't know. I wanted to know.

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Three resolute watchmen patrol the echoing emptiness. Their probing flashlights scanning for any slight thing amiss. The silence broods heavily around them. It’s lonely work. No other souls in sight. They walk for miles through the empty rooms and corridors of these spooky deserted buildings - their footsteps the only imposition of living humanity.

It was shadowy work, a little scary, and maybe a little more melodramatic in memory.

The three watchmen were my Uncle Bud, myself, and my pal Tommy.

The buildings were part of the campus complex of Iowa State College at Ames, Iowa. Uncle Bud, in addition to farm work during the day, also had job as night watchman for the College. Tommy’s Uncle worked for Clyde Black & and Sons Hybrid Seed Corn Farm along with Uncle Bud. That’s where we first got to be friends. Tommy and I were curious about what this night watchman job was all about. We were ten years old at the time. The only jobs we knew much about were farm jobs. Tommy was also my best friend at Huxley Consolidated School until my family moved to Ohio the year before. I was homesick in Ohio. I went back whenever I could. This night was one of those times. It was nice to see my old friend.

Uncle Bud invited Tommy and me to spend a night with him making his rounds. Aunt Arlene packed a lunchbox for Uncle Bud as she always did. She packed paper bags for me and Tommy. Uncle Bud had his usual thermos of coffee. Tommy and I had fruit jars filled with orange Cool-Aid. We set off for our night-time adventure.

The campus had so many buildings it looked like a town. In fact, that’s what the people of Ames called it: College Town. I don’t know how many buildings were on Uncle Bud’s rounds. At the time I thought it was the whole College, now I realize it was likely only a few buildings. We parked Uncle Bud’s old grey Plymouth in the parking lot near the first building on the rounds. Uncle Bud checked the huge ring of keys on his belt, handed us flashlights, and off we went.

Prior to this night watch, I didn’t know much about Iowa State College except for the VEISHEA day parade, which I knew mostly as a happy parade bystander. I did understand the acronym as: Veterinary medicine; Engineering; Industrial Science; Home Economics; and Agriculture. The parade has since been discontinued due to increasingly rowdy behavior at successive parades. Too bad, I enjoyed those VEISHEA parades.

We expected to see classrooms and auditoriums. Some other rooms surprised us. Much of the college was devoted to agricultural research. Many rooms were laboratories with chemicals, charts, and graphs. We couldn’t tell what they were for.

One of the rooms I think I remember seeing was the Glass Shop where my dad worked as a glassblower for several years before we moved to Ohio. - Or, I may have conflated what I already knew of the Glass Shop with my memories of that night on the night watch. Strangely, I recall this as the first time I had seen the Glass Shop. The smell of hot glass lingered in the air; baffling constructions of glass were all about. I remember explaining to Tommy what Dad had explained to me. These oddities were one-of-a-kind creations made for the research chemists. When nothing off the shelf would do, the glassblowers would make what was needed to precise order.

By the time we finished half our rounds the night was half over too. We broke for lunch. A warm light rain fell as we made our way to the old gray Plymouth. Aunt Arlene had packed apple, cheese, and ham sandwich for each of us. Brenda Lee, “Little Miss Dynamite”, was playing on the AM radio. The night, the rain, and Brenda Lee, merged to make a singular memory.

Years later, I heard the rock group Golden Earring sing a song called Radar Love. The song was a pumping rocker “drivin’ all night, hand’s wet on the wheel”. One line jumped out at me, “Radio playing some forgotten song, Brenda Lee coming on strong”.

My mind flashed straight back to that night.

The next building we inspected was Morrill Hall. I thought it was an Art Museum. It had a lot of paintings on display. I was much taken by this unexpected sight. It was my first exposure to great Art. The dim light kept me from seeing anything very well. The first thing that struck me was the size of the paintings. They were huge. My own artwork at the time was limited to colored pencil drawings on 8-1/2” x 11” paper. These large paintings opened a whole new world to me – even though I couldn’t see them clearly.

There were too many paintings to absorb properly. The lack of light didn’t help, I would have liked to linger longer to see more. But we had buildings yet to inspect. We moved on - me reluctantly. Though my memory of individual paintings is hazy, one left an impression that stayed with me. It was a scene of a medieval feast with big trays of saucers being carried to tables where people were drinking and eating. That’s about all I remember of it.

In high school, I discovered the paintings of Pieter Bruegel the Elder, one of which was called, The Peasant Wedding. It looked a lot like the dimly remembered painting I saw so long ago in Morrill Hall.

Was it possible?

Could a relatively small Art museum on the grounds of Iowa State College really have owned a Bruegel painting. Maybe what I saw was a copy, or maybe it was the real Bruegel on a touring loan, or maybe the painting I saw only resembled, The Peasant Wedding.

Did my memory deceive me? I didn’t know. I wanted to know.

I asked My cousin, Donna Zaiger to check with a friend of hers who still lived in Ames. Nothing came of it. He couldn’t remember anything about an art museum.

Donna and I continued to wonder about the mysterious museum. If there was no art museum in1953, then what might I have mistaken for an art museum? Our conversation drifted to other memories of those days gone by and updated to the days since. Donna recalled the VEISHA parades, the Made-Rite shop, and our Uncle Gordan’s apartment on campus. She also told me that in 1959 Iowa State College became Iowa State University, and that Morrill Hall had been renovated in 2007. It now housed The Christian Petersen Art Museum.

She suggested I contact the museum, directly.

I found a phone number for the Christen Petersen Museum on google.

A very pleasant young lady answered the phone. I asked if there had ever been anything like an art museum at Morrill Hall before the Petersen Museum. She didn’t think so. She said

I should talk to Lynette Pohlman - who happened to be standing nearby. Lynette was Director and Chief Curator for Iowa State University, University Museums.

Lynette was just as friendly as the young lady who answered the phone. I was happily surprised by this human response rather than by the automated phone system I expected.

I guess I’d forgotten how nice people in Iowa are, and how sensible.

Lynette solved the museum mystery in short order.

Morrill Hall had customarily hung historic photos and art along a certain central corridor. The exhibits were occasionally rearranged. Records from around 1953 listed a reproduction of The Peasant Wedding as one of those displayed.

I really did see the painting I thought I saw on that Night Watch, so long ago.

Whew!

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Non Sequitur Coda: Tommy Jordan and I were friends and classmates for most of elementary school. We were the two smallest kids there. That might have led to regular abusive bullying except for one well known fact – Tommy always carried a hefty crescent wrench in the back pocket of his overalls – just in case anyone needed an attitude adjustment.

By K. L. Shipley

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