Dr. Reynold Wik was a Fulbright lecturer and a Guggenheim fellow, got his doctorate from the University of Minnesota in 1949, wrote at least forty scholarly articles and three books, and was a professor of history at Mills College, Oakland, California, from 1951 through 1974.  In 1974, Sioux Falls College awarded him an honorary doctorate.  As his son Denis came across the stage to get his BA degree, Reyn stepped out and gave Denis a big embrace.  “I then escorted him to Dr. Wells who handed him his diploma,” Reyn writes.  “I told the president in inaudible tones, ‘Give this guy a degree!’  In the meantime, the audience gave us a solid round of applause.  For the two of us, it was one of those precious moments in a lifetime where for us at least emotion and sentiment seemed appropriate.”

     “The superb student is skillful in the art of self-defense,” Uncle Reyn wrote in one letter just before I went to college.  “He anticipates problems, seeks out information before it is too late, and reduces risk by checking things with teachers and colleges. The poor student sees the minimum in all work assignments.  The top student sees the maximum the can be done with the assignments.”

         “The undergraduate major is not so important,” Reyn continues.  “The important factors are superb grades in college and excellent recommendations from college professors.  Many graduate schools do not really care about your BA major.  They do care about your performance record.  Today’s college students are mobile and it is less important to get all four years in one spot.  Sometimes two undergraduate school provide diversity that is healthy”.

          “After graduation in 1927, I was needed on the farm while others went off to school,” Reyn writes, in describing his early struggles to get a good education.  “I stayed out of school for four years because there was no other way.  I can remember the grim days of September each fall when colleges opened, but I was unable to give it a try.  I guess one has inner hunches or intuitive feelings that seem to say, ‘You must try making the next move to satisfy your own curiosity.’  These hunches were denied each fall.  I remember sitting out on a pile of railroad ties by the windmill one September night with a full moon, and aching on the inside because the depression made it impossible to move out and give the college scene an honest try.

      “One day in September 1931, I had been all day mowing hay.  I drove home at dark, stumbled around in the barn without a lantern, hauled buckets of feed for the horses, and fed the hogs.  It must have been ten o’clock when I finally staggered into the house almost too tired to speak.  Here, Elsie told me that she had just been hired to teach the Norbeck School and that I was going off to college.  A few days later, she gave me $42 and I took the bus from Faulkton to Sioux Falls.  It was a lonely and reflective trip filled with trepidation.

      “On arrival, I went out to the college and looked up Oliver Olson.  He had been on the campus for three years and had a job firing the boiler in Pierce gymnasium.  He had a cot and let me sleep on the floor.  Since this was a way of saving room rent, I stayed on for some time—until authorities got wise to the arrangement and kicked me out.  However, jobs were scarce.  After three weeks, I got a job washing dishes in a little café on Sixth Street.  Mr. and Mrs. Hyde had been in Brookings and their daughter went to college with Victor.  Mr. Hyde had lost his job in Brookings, so he ran this café.  By getting two meals a day for four to eight hours of work a day depending on business, I managed to survive.”

     “I bought my clothes at the Salvation Army, patched my worn out pants with adhesive tape (which isn’t to be recommended), and beat rugs on Saturdays for extra cash.  I once wrote home for money and after a long wait received an envelope with cash in it—nickels, dimes, quarters, but no bills.  Apparently, things were not too flush at home either. At Christmas time, I hitchhiked home, once spending the night in the Huron depot where there was some heat.  But thanks to help from members of the family and to college officials who gave me a job on campus as a senior, I finally made it.  Viola was at SFC part of this time and Harold was in on the fun as well.

      “My first job with my new BA in 1936 was to work with Bill Williams as a hired man for a dollar a day,” Reyn writes.  

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