thedrifter
05-02-03, 11:51 AM
May 01, 2003
War, retirement — and then graduation? WWII vets get diplomas at last
By Mary Beth Marklein
USA Today
PULASKI, Va. — Ned Bane, who turned 81 Sunday, has few complaints in life. He and his wife, Betsy, have enjoyed nearly 55 years together. They raised two sons, have one granddaughter and enjoy a comfortable retirement, thanks to a fulfilling career here in the Appalachian community where the Banes have spent most of their lives.
So who cares if he never got that college degree? Called up in 1943 to serve in the Army Air Corps, Bane left the University of Richmond having met all but one requirement — third-year German. When World War II was over, he says he was “tired of bouncing around.” So he went into business with his father “and never looked back.”
Regrets? Not a one, says Bane, whose children say he’s a no-nonsense guy.
Still, his sons wonder about that darned third-year German course. It’s long been a family joke, but “there was something nagging at him,” says Ned Jr.
Which is how it has come to be that on May 4, some 50 years after he left his studies for the service, Bane will tend to some unfinished business at the University of Richmond.
Donning black cap and gown, he will be awarded an honorary bachelor of letters degree by his alma mater during commencement exercises. And he will be in good company: The university plans to honor 61 World War II veterans — 59 men and two women — whose studies similarly were interrupted.
To University of Richmond president William Cooper, their sacrifice seems worth recognizing.
“Everybody knows someone who dropped out of college,” Cooper says. “This just happens to be one of those more dramatic reasons a whole group of people just couldn’t finish what they set out to do.”
Though no one keeps careful track of their numbers, such veterans have been popping up on university radar screens in recent years — like Bane, often because their offspring speak up. In 1998, Texas A&M University awarded a bachelor’s degree in economics to World War II fighter pilot Andrew Kelly after his daughter tracked down the paperwork that enabled the university to award him the six credit hours he needed to graduate.
A few years later, after Roy Davis’ daughter-in-law made some calls, the Air Force vet from Anderson, Ind., was hand-delivered a diploma from Anderson University. Davis had taken the single literature course he needed to graduate in 1945. But he missed commencement — he had to work — and in those days, those who didn’t show up for the ceremony didn’t get the diploma.
And last fall, Weldon Bigony, 82, of Big Spring, Texas, re-enrolled at Baylor University in Waco, where his senior year abruptly was halted on Dec. 7, 1941. He is finishing up and is in line to receive his bachelor’s in business in May.
At the University of Richmond, officials were generous in their definition of eligibility — honoring veterans such as “The Waltons” creator Earl Hamner, who never returned to the University of Richmond but eventually earned his bachelor’s from the University of Cincinnati. Still, University of Richmond officials were surprised by the numbers; they figured many fewer would meet the specifications, based on what they knew about the GI Bill.
Nationally, more than 2.2 million World War II veterans (one of every eight returning vets) went to college under the GI Bill, a series of federal scholarship programs that, since 1944, have been widely credited with opening the doors of higher education to millions.
A 1979 Census survey shows that younger World War II vets benefited most from the GI Bill; about half of those born between 1923 and 1928 used the federal money. But among those born in the preceding years, which includes Bane, the participation rate ranged from 27 percent to 40 percent.
Some, of course, earned their degree before the war; others never intended to get one. And with the postwar economy booming, “there were all kinds of [work] opportunities outside of college,” says Marcus Stanley, an economics professor at Case Western Reserve University who studied the GI Bill’s impact on education.
For many in this group, life simply got in the way.
“I got married, my wife wanted to start a family, and, you know, it was a different world,” says honoree Elwood Cross, 86, of Richmond. He earned 11 medals while serving 4½ years in the U.S. Navy.
Bane, who had not yet met Betsy, can’t really explain why his enthusiasm waned, except to say he went to a third-year German class one day and, not having studied it for two years, was so lost that he never returned. Plus, he had an offer to join his father’s business.
“Who knows?” he says. “But I do know there was a very psychological difference in a guy when he left the University of Richmond and when he came back. “It wasn’t like a big cloud. A better definition was that your priorities changed a little bit.”
Plans for the University of Richmond festivities were set in motion around January when Jim and Ned Bane Jr. contacted their father’s alma mater to see whether his life experiences might today count toward a bachelor’s degree.
They were prepared to support their father’s case with a portfolio of his achievements. But the next thing they knew, the university was sending letters to 2,000 alumni, trying to track down other WWII veterans who left under similar circumstances. The school began notifying honorees in March.
“When I got the letter, it was quite a shock, I tell you, and I don’t shock easily,” Bane says. At first, “I thought they wanted another donation.”
Cross, meanwhile, already made space for the diploma on a wall next to a photo of his late wife, Dorothy, who died in December. His daughter, Elaine Perrin, says he’s acting like a teenager.
And Marine Corps veteran Lewyn “Oppie” Oppenheim, who once aspired to medical school, calls the degree nothing short of a dream come true.
“My wife wanted me to go back, but I just didn’t do it. I can [pretend I was] being the older responsible person, wanting to take care of my wife, but really it’s an excuse,” says Oppenheim, 81, who had a successful career in marketing. “Life has been good to me since and all, but it’s still something I have regretted all my life.”
Like many recipients, Oppenheim, of Fairfax, Va., won’t be attending Sunday’s ceremony; poor health or bad timing are the culprits in several instances. Some will be honored posthumously, including one recipient who was killed in the war when his plane was shot down. In all, 17 vets will make it, along with some widows. Also involved will be University of Richmond graduate Earl Fox, who retired from two careers in the military in 1999 and was the longest-serving WWII veteran.
University president Cooper, who will preside at commencement, says the U.S. war with Iraq wasn’t the reason for the military theme this year.
But “war was very much on our minds, and campus culture during times of war was very much on our minds. You look back over generations and you see that there has always been struggle, there has always been hardship.”
Bane might not view himself as one who struggled much: “Would I have been better off today [with a college degree]? I doubt it,” he says.
Even so, “I’m very appreciative to the University of Richmond. The bigger thing about it is that Jim and Ned did it. I know they made 60 other people pretty happy.”
Sempers,
Roger
War, retirement — and then graduation? WWII vets get diplomas at last
By Mary Beth Marklein
USA Today
PULASKI, Va. — Ned Bane, who turned 81 Sunday, has few complaints in life. He and his wife, Betsy, have enjoyed nearly 55 years together. They raised two sons, have one granddaughter and enjoy a comfortable retirement, thanks to a fulfilling career here in the Appalachian community where the Banes have spent most of their lives.
So who cares if he never got that college degree? Called up in 1943 to serve in the Army Air Corps, Bane left the University of Richmond having met all but one requirement — third-year German. When World War II was over, he says he was “tired of bouncing around.” So he went into business with his father “and never looked back.”
Regrets? Not a one, says Bane, whose children say he’s a no-nonsense guy.
Still, his sons wonder about that darned third-year German course. It’s long been a family joke, but “there was something nagging at him,” says Ned Jr.
Which is how it has come to be that on May 4, some 50 years after he left his studies for the service, Bane will tend to some unfinished business at the University of Richmond.
Donning black cap and gown, he will be awarded an honorary bachelor of letters degree by his alma mater during commencement exercises. And he will be in good company: The university plans to honor 61 World War II veterans — 59 men and two women — whose studies similarly were interrupted.
To University of Richmond president William Cooper, their sacrifice seems worth recognizing.
“Everybody knows someone who dropped out of college,” Cooper says. “This just happens to be one of those more dramatic reasons a whole group of people just couldn’t finish what they set out to do.”
Though no one keeps careful track of their numbers, such veterans have been popping up on university radar screens in recent years — like Bane, often because their offspring speak up. In 1998, Texas A&M University awarded a bachelor’s degree in economics to World War II fighter pilot Andrew Kelly after his daughter tracked down the paperwork that enabled the university to award him the six credit hours he needed to graduate.
A few years later, after Roy Davis’ daughter-in-law made some calls, the Air Force vet from Anderson, Ind., was hand-delivered a diploma from Anderson University. Davis had taken the single literature course he needed to graduate in 1945. But he missed commencement — he had to work — and in those days, those who didn’t show up for the ceremony didn’t get the diploma.
And last fall, Weldon Bigony, 82, of Big Spring, Texas, re-enrolled at Baylor University in Waco, where his senior year abruptly was halted on Dec. 7, 1941. He is finishing up and is in line to receive his bachelor’s in business in May.
At the University of Richmond, officials were generous in their definition of eligibility — honoring veterans such as “The Waltons” creator Earl Hamner, who never returned to the University of Richmond but eventually earned his bachelor’s from the University of Cincinnati. Still, University of Richmond officials were surprised by the numbers; they figured many fewer would meet the specifications, based on what they knew about the GI Bill.
Nationally, more than 2.2 million World War II veterans (one of every eight returning vets) went to college under the GI Bill, a series of federal scholarship programs that, since 1944, have been widely credited with opening the doors of higher education to millions.
A 1979 Census survey shows that younger World War II vets benefited most from the GI Bill; about half of those born between 1923 and 1928 used the federal money. But among those born in the preceding years, which includes Bane, the participation rate ranged from 27 percent to 40 percent.
Some, of course, earned their degree before the war; others never intended to get one. And with the postwar economy booming, “there were all kinds of [work] opportunities outside of college,” says Marcus Stanley, an economics professor at Case Western Reserve University who studied the GI Bill’s impact on education.
For many in this group, life simply got in the way.
“I got married, my wife wanted to start a family, and, you know, it was a different world,” says honoree Elwood Cross, 86, of Richmond. He earned 11 medals while serving 4½ years in the U.S. Navy.
Bane, who had not yet met Betsy, can’t really explain why his enthusiasm waned, except to say he went to a third-year German class one day and, not having studied it for two years, was so lost that he never returned. Plus, he had an offer to join his father’s business.
“Who knows?” he says. “But I do know there was a very psychological difference in a guy when he left the University of Richmond and when he came back. “It wasn’t like a big cloud. A better definition was that your priorities changed a little bit.”
Plans for the University of Richmond festivities were set in motion around January when Jim and Ned Bane Jr. contacted their father’s alma mater to see whether his life experiences might today count toward a bachelor’s degree.
They were prepared to support their father’s case with a portfolio of his achievements. But the next thing they knew, the university was sending letters to 2,000 alumni, trying to track down other WWII veterans who left under similar circumstances. The school began notifying honorees in March.
“When I got the letter, it was quite a shock, I tell you, and I don’t shock easily,” Bane says. At first, “I thought they wanted another donation.”
Cross, meanwhile, already made space for the diploma on a wall next to a photo of his late wife, Dorothy, who died in December. His daughter, Elaine Perrin, says he’s acting like a teenager.
And Marine Corps veteran Lewyn “Oppie” Oppenheim, who once aspired to medical school, calls the degree nothing short of a dream come true.
“My wife wanted me to go back, but I just didn’t do it. I can [pretend I was] being the older responsible person, wanting to take care of my wife, but really it’s an excuse,” says Oppenheim, 81, who had a successful career in marketing. “Life has been good to me since and all, but it’s still something I have regretted all my life.”
Like many recipients, Oppenheim, of Fairfax, Va., won’t be attending Sunday’s ceremony; poor health or bad timing are the culprits in several instances. Some will be honored posthumously, including one recipient who was killed in the war when his plane was shot down. In all, 17 vets will make it, along with some widows. Also involved will be University of Richmond graduate Earl Fox, who retired from two careers in the military in 1999 and was the longest-serving WWII veteran.
University president Cooper, who will preside at commencement, says the U.S. war with Iraq wasn’t the reason for the military theme this year.
But “war was very much on our minds, and campus culture during times of war was very much on our minds. You look back over generations and you see that there has always been struggle, there has always been hardship.”
Bane might not view himself as one who struggled much: “Would I have been better off today [with a college degree]? I doubt it,” he says.
Even so, “I’m very appreciative to the University of Richmond. The bigger thing about it is that Jim and Ned did it. I know they made 60 other people pretty happy.”
Sempers,
Roger