How To Impress a Mule...
by Jim Nicar

How to Impress a Mule

A Dog Named Pig

Let's Cut a Rug

Mars and Minerva

We Want Panties

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The University of Texas at Austin

What good is a college education?

When asked this question, recent graduates of the University have a variety of answers. Among the more popular are "to get a good job" and "to be a better person". In 1902, one UT graduate discovered a unique asset to a college degree. He used it to impress a mule.

Joseph Russell Johnson was a stocky, dark-haired civil engineering student who came to Austin from a farm near Clarksville, Texas, in Red River County. A freshman in 1898, the campus bore little resemblance to the familiar sights of today. Enrollment was under 600 students, and all of them had classes in the old Main Building.

Victorian Gothic in style, made of gold buff brick and cream limestone trim, "Old Main" sat on top of College Hill, near the center of the University's original Forty Acres.

Postcard from 1912

Its spires and pointed windows were softened only by the ivy that hugged its walls. Imported from England, the ivy didn't fare too well under the strong Texas sun. A local variety was later substituted and did better. Inside, a four story rotunda greeted visitors who arrived through the main entrance. With little else on the campus, the rotunda was a popular gathering place for students between classes, and provided an important center of communication. Announcements of upcoming UT events were printed on handbills, called "dodgers", taken to the fourth floor, then tossed en masse out into the rotunda and into the waiting hands of students below. A year before Johnson enrolled, an elevator was installed and an operator hired for $15 a month. The rest of Old Main was used for classrooms, faculty offices, a library, an auditorium, and meeting rooms for the Athenaeum and Rusk Literary Societies. College Hill was not a crowded place. A separate chemical laboratory building stood just northwest of Old Main, and B. Hall, the men's dorm, was down the hill to the east. Most of the campus was filled with mesquite trees and scrub bush, though bluebonnets ruled the grounds each spring. A whitewashed wooden fence surrounded the Forty Acres to keep out the town cows.

Johnson wasn't all that interested in extracurricular activities. He didn't belong to a fraternity or play on a sports team, didn't join the "Gory Goo-Roos" or "Ancient and Honorable Rusty Cusses", and he apparently wasn't eligible to join the newly formed "Bowlegged Club." Instead, he was elected president of the Engineers Club in his junior year, and helped to write one of the group's yells:

Rah, rah, rah! Beer, beer, beers! Texas, Texas, Engineers!

As a senior, Johnson was asked to represent the engineering students when the constitution for the first Students' Assembly was written in 1902. He also distinguished himself academically. Johnson was first in his engineering graduating class - out of three graduates. After commencement in June, 1902, Johnson returned home to the family farm just south of the Red River, where his proud parents were eager to see their college educated son at work, though perhaps not exactly as he had imagined.

To start the mule, Johnson usually yelled, "Giddap, Beck!" but thought this to be too harsh. Instead, he remembered his experiences in freshman English, and in more gentler tones urged, "Rebecca, proceed." The mule, unaccustomed to being handled by a university scholar, didn't understand this new technical vocabulary, and only stood and stared. Johnson had to repeat his request several times, and with the help of a dirt clod or two, got his point across. On Rebecca went, though so disoriented by the human behind the plow, her step was not as sure as usual. She occasionally strayed out of the row, and began to tread on the tender corn sprouts. Johnson could correct the mule with a loud "Haw, Beck!" but instead uttered a more temperate "Rebecca, diverge." Since the command was accompanied by a firm tug on her rein, Rebecca was a fast learner, and was soon "diverging" with the best of them. Only one problem remained. At the end of the row, about a half-mile long, the mule had to reverse direction and begin on the next row. When the time came, Rebecca didn't hear "Gee, Beck!" as she had in years past, but "Rebecca, revolve."

After a few rows, Rebecca was comfortable with the new routine, though when she was returned to the stable that evening, she gave Johnson a peculiar gaze. He was never sure whether it was a look of approval or disgust. Johnson did become an engineer in north Texas, but never forgot his first experience as a college graduate.