Whether it was the “Chancellor’s beautiful dream” that director Robert Underwood Johnson had spoken of or merely an ambulatory “elaborated” into a plan to crate “a shrine of patriotic remembrance . . . “or to afford a good view over the Harlem; or whether, as current director Ralph Rourke was once told, it was a desperate last-minute design of a structure strong enough to buttress Gould Library and thus qualify for a building permit — whatever it was in the beginning, the Hall is now a worthy exemplar of America’s view of its past.

 

There had been much to criticize in Chancellor MacCracken’s scheme. His “wise men” gave only perfunctory acknowledgment to popular opinion. He knew, however, what Noah Webster had discovered for himself during unsettled times of the infant American republic; that the voice of the people was the voice of God, but could also, on occasion, be the voice of the devil. The system devised by MacCracken did on the whole prevent gate crashing. Those who doubt this and are inclined to deny it, are at liberty to judge for themselves by checking the lists of “rejects” on the ballot for the elections, 1900-1973, and to play their own game of “parlor winnowing.” Measuring merit is in part of a subjective procedure, at times whimsical, even when undertaken by the wise.

 

There had been of course, the inevitable resignations of some electors. A few frankly admitted, after a while, that they were never quite sure of what they were doing. J.F. Jameson, historian at Carnegie Institution, resigned in 1921 because he experienced:

 

. . . increasing discomfort attendant upon these votes . . . I feel no interest whatever in expressing an opinion as to who has the greatest reputation at the present time . . . knowing well on what slight grounds fame falls to people like Dolly Madison (a pleasant lady), Ethan Allen (a swaggering intriguer, only partly honest), Marcus Whitman (widely famous for having done something he didn’t do).

 

All had been on ballots sent to Mr. Jameson. None had been elected. But Jameson really didn’t know why he had been made an elector. We wonder why he stayed for five elections, but do not think ill of him for quitting when disenchanted.

 

For every Jameson, there will always be, in any group of, say, one hundred or more, a few of us willing to take on and stay on a routine job of periodically putting our fingers into the wind, or voting the “party line,” in exchange for another line in our curriculum vitae. It is one of the milder cynicisms.

 

Still, the duties must often have seemed “more nominal than real,” as elector Clarence Walton, former President of Catholic University, said of the 1973 election. It was in fact revealed from time to time after founding that some electors could not, or at any rate did not, always do their homework, and did not always remember whom they voted for. In a letter to the New York Times as early as January 21, 1909, President James Burrill Angell of the University of Michigan, ” . . . whose judgment should be of weight,” was asked whether he had voted for Edgar Allen Poe. “I don’t remember,” Angell replied, but added that there was no reason why he shouldn’t have. “Is he losing his memory?” asked the letter writer, who sensed an impartiality approaching detachment.

 

President Cyrus Northrop of the university of Minnesota was frank. “Having voted [for the lot as presented], I dismissed the matter from my mind, and I simply don’t know whom I voted for.”

 

Neither President Charles W. Eliot of Harvard, nor President Charles F. Thwing of Western Reserve University remembered how he voted. Neither offered comment, “showing no interest.” Eliot was an elector for six terms; Thwing for seven.

 

The famous St. Clair McKelway said, “If I remember correctly I did not vote for Poe.” Judge R.R. Graves of the Texas Supreme Court, displaying “that Quality which judges always condemns in a witness,” said he did not remember but thought he must have voted for Poe. Charles D. Walcott of the Smithsonian said he could find no record of how he voted.

 

“Isn’t the Temple of Fame a sort of house of a thousand scandals, or is it a bleak house, or a house of mirth? Or a bug house? What is it anyway?” The letter was signed by a W. J. Lampton.

 

One hesitates to be over-critical of overworked people for giving superficial attention and forgetting. The decision being made, why need we remember what generally is not asked of us? Men with much on their minds apparently have to be possessed of total recall in order to protect themselves. Or else have good files. Or good assistants.

 

Cranks are destined to be with us always. At times they provide a stinging antidote for sleepiness.

 

(“I’ll never, never forget!” said the the King to the Queen and Alice, after going through the looking glass. “You will though if you don’t make a memorandum of it, said the Queen.)

One elector was almost swept away by enthusiasm. Naturalist John Burroughs, who considered electorship a patriotic duty was overjoyed to be invited to join the august assembly. “The Hall of Fame is a one hundred percent American institution. I am for one hundred percent Americanism, one hundred percent efficiency, and one hundred percent life. I expect to live to be one hundred years old.” He missed by 15 years, without having an opportunity to vote.

 

Reprise: Process