Future professors, Dr. Robert E. Stake and Dr. Chris Buethe (Cactus Chris). (Courtesy photo) [Click to enlarge]

Recently, the Gazette had a glowing editorial about co-ops, nationally, and in Nebraska. The main thrust of the editorial concerned the farm co-ops, which have been singularly successful and highly beneficial for their members, especially in Nebraska. The whole subject of co-ops brought back a time, some 60 years ago, when co-ops, especially the Brown Palace Co-op, were a very big thing in my life.

Back in the depression days of the 1930s, times were hard. Jobs were scarce, and young men seeking an education needed to live as economically as possible. At the same time, co-ops in the U.S. were flourishing. There was a big push by the national co-ops to extend their influence to college campuses, including the University of Nebraska. With this encouragement, groups of NU men decided that they could cooperate, and live together cheaper than they could separately in rooming houses scattered all over Lincoln. One such group rented a sprawling brown monstrosity near the campus. They followed the Rochdale principles of cooperation: open membership, democratic control by the members, neutrality in religion and politics, constant education, and continuous expansion. They hired a lady to help with the cooking, but they handled the other chores of living themselves -- a fraternity without national sanction. Then, with tongue firmly in cheek, they christened their new home, "The Brown Palace (Co-op)."

Due to World War II, by 1945, there were just 17-year-olds and 4-F males left on campus. Fraternities and co-ops were having a tough time getting enough members to stay afloat. During my stay at the Brown Palace ('46-'49), our cook/housemother was a saintly widow named Emma Jacobs, who had been with the organization from the beginning. She didn't gossip, scold or judge. She did serve as a sympathetic listener for the members in bad times and good. She was also an excellent cook, considering what she had to work with. Expenses were held to a bare minimum -- $32 per month, board and room. (My Dad said it was cheaper than he could feed me at home.)

After the original big brown house, we had two other large old homes on campus. Typically, the living room was retained as a living room. The basement was turned into a large kitchen and dining area. There were several bathrooms, but everything else was turned into study rooms, two to five men to a room. Most men slept in a large, screened, second floor sleeping porch, across the front of the house, "air conditioned" year 'round.

Members were expected (and on occasions strongly urged) to clean their own rooms. Work of the house was divided into "work periods." These rotated weekly. Thus the two fellows who helped Mrs. Jacobs prepare the evening meal were each fulfilling one work period, and these work periods traded like a commodity among members. Members decided what needed to be done, a board of directors assigned the tasks, and the officers saw to it that everyone did his job. At weekly meetings, goals and budgets were set, problems were solved. The system worked well.

Though most of the members came from farms and small towns in Nebraska, there was some diversity. There was a Japanese American from California. Two boys came from New York. One was very political. He called himself a socialist, but he spouted the communist line like a member of the Politburo, probably just to see the reaction of his quite conservative listeners -- OK, make that very conservative.

We effectively severed our relationship with the co-op movement after a delegation from our house attended a Student Cooperative Association Convention and reported that the national organization was socialistic. They were alarmed by the fiery rhetoric from the convention floor. Again, when the university instigated a campus model U. N., the BP declined to participate, citing the socialistic aspects of the U.N. (Note: Not everyone at the Brown Palace was conservative, and when our majority opted to drop out of the national organization, a small liberal minority chose to leave and start their own co-op, which they did and named it the George W. Norris Cooperative.)

Co-ops participated in NU social activities and sports events on campus -- sort of. One time, the BP team, spiked by a couple of varsity basketball players, won the Intramural Softball title. We always had several members of the University Band in the house. Hour dances tended to be held with female Co-ops. Hayrack rides and picnics in the spring and fall provided opportunities to get acquainted, as did the constant pickup games of football in our front yard. One such game introduced me to my future wife, Jean, whom I ran into, literally, while reaching for a long forward pass.

When the University chose to build on the Brown Palace locations on campus, we bought a large old house near the Capitol. Later this location was sold to an insurance company, which razed the house to make room for a new office building. BP pocketed a handsome profit on the deal, which was used to buy another old home on B. St.

By 1992, BP membership had shrunk to just four members, who sublet some of the rooms of the house to students, male and female. When it came to the attention of the alums that these four planned to sell the B. St. house and pocket the proceeds, a group of old timers banded together and were able to regain ownership of the property for the alumni. When everything was sorted out, the property was sold to an ambitious family who planned to restore the home to its original opulence -- and the Brown Palace Co-op was no more. When all debts were paid, there was still almost $100,000 to turn over to the NU Foundation for scholarships.

The demise of the Brown Palace was perhaps inevitable, as was the housing student co-op movement at UNL. The University began to offer affordable male dormitories. Student loans became easier to obtain. Students wanted more independence. Finally, the success of the Brown Palace itself contributed to its downfall.

Brown Palace grads proved to be successful in diverse fields. Surely, the Co-op experience, with its strong emphasis on work and co-operation, was in part responsible for that success. One member was a Rhodes Scholar, and now has a building named after him at the University where he taught. One became the Editor of a major Nebraska newspaper. One fellow was extremely successful in the oil business in Wyoming. A majority of the members became engineers, who have since built roads, buildings, and electrical projects all over the world (and have given millions of dollars back to the state through their foundations). Some, who became doctors and college professors, enjoy(ed) global reputations. One even became a baker. Those fellows were financially able to send their sons to college, to join fraternities or live in apartments as they chose.

Unfortunately for the Brown Palace, not very many sent their sons to live (super-economically) in a student co-op. The Brown Palace Scholarships were originally designed to be given to students who had alums of the Brown Palace in their family, but when those boys and girls did not apply they were opened up to needy students generally.

As I look back on that other time and place, I am grateful for the Brown Palace experience. I'm especially thankful for the friendships formed then. I'm pleased to say that some of those friends and I have stayed in touch and we get together quite often. At these meetings the intervening years seem to melt away and we can laugh and remember, and relive those years at the Brown Palace -- in the Golden Age of Student Co-ops.