buchannt – The Riffin' Griffin

More than a century of Canyon Day

Reed is notorious for our traditions, but few have the staying power of Canyon Day. Canyon Day dates to nearly the school’s inception, with our first records pointing to April 15, 1913. At the time, Albert Doyle submitted plans to transform the canyon into “an artful landscape of Tudor Gothic quadrangles and formal gardens.” When the college’s shoestring budget of the time made that impossible, focus shifted to adapting the canyon from a cow pasture and trickle of a stream to a recreational area.

Campus Day work across the canyon with a pair of horses to help, 1913. Most of the students and faculty are clearing ground with rakes or hoes.

Even the college president, William Trufont Foster, put his back into it:

Campus Day near the Reed Lake dam, circa 1914. Students and faculty are clearing logs out of the Canyon Lake. President William T. Foster is in the water, pushing a log.

In 1915, students excavated a ten foot deep swimming hole on the west side, complete with bathhouses. In the ’20s, a dam was built to make way for a formal swimming pool. In the ’50s, the north bank was excavated for the construction of cross-canyon dorms. A Quest article from `1955 reminds students that they would soon,

“have a chance to uphold a miss-clad tradition when they forsake the cloisters of academic learning to shoulder arms . . . against the common enemy. Weapons will be rakes, shovels, hoes, and related miscellany suitable for an attack on the defiled beauties of nature.”

Year by year, the community gathered with snacks, gloves, shears, and every once in a while, with a live band to cheer them on.

Canyon Day, April 1962. A student German Band is playing in the rain at 6:30 a.m., probably outside of the Old Dorm Block.

Over time, our approach to the canyon has evolved–it has been named part of the Johnson Creek Watershed in recognition of the headwaters of Crystal Springs Creek on the east end, and the canyon is now protected as 60 acres of habitat for urban wildlife. In ’01, the college constructed a fish ladder to re-establish connectivity between the lake and the lower creek, allowing access to the salmon spawning grounds. Opening day featured champagne and a timely spring downpour.

A snowy day in the Canyon, featuring the Reed College Fish Ladder, circa 2009

As such, a century into the tradition of Canyon Day, the focus is on planting native trees and shrubs, pulling out invasive plants, maintaining trails, and collecting debris.

Canyon Day, April 4, 2010. Students are making piles of weed debris behind the Studio Art Building.

In the area? Join the community on April 4, 2026 to get your hands dirty! We can’t promise a live band, but we can guarantee camaraderie and a day’s work to feel proud of.

Historical Reed, the Imaginary Reed, and the Lived Reed

E. Asher Behmer ’26, winner of the Mason Student Opportunity Fellowship, undertook a project in the summer of 2025 to define Reed College and the Canyon. He researched what he called the Historical Reed, the Imaginary Reed, and the Lived Reed, through archived documents, creative works, and interviews, respectively. Practicing research in his classes at Reed, such as in the English Junior Seminar, prepared him for a larger, independent research project that culminated in the publication of a monograph. As an aspiring writer, Asher valued the reading and writing that were intrinsic to his work, both skills that will help him keep honing his craft.

The Mason Student Opportunity Fellowship was created with the goal of supporting student projects in any discipline related to the Reed canyon, including projects in the visual and performing arts. Read more about other Reed-sponsored grants and opportunities through the Center for Life Beyond Reed.

Dreaming of Snow

As we watch towns in Massachusetts get over 40″ of snow this week, I find myself reflecting on what would happen if Portland faced such a storm. At first, it seems rather funny: the city would probably stop dead in its tracks. I can imagine our single snow plow chugging along the infinite loops of streets.

On a little further reflection, I recall other (comparatively mild) storms that have caused fairly impressive amounts of damage. The PNW is not equipped for that kind of weather, and even six inches has the potential to be destructive!

Portland’s record for the single snowiest day was set on January 21, 1943, with 14.4 inches in a single day. Life in the city came fully to a halt, although some students were able to secure skis to navigate campus:

Four students are standing in front of the Chapel entrance in Eliot Hall, January 1943. It is snowing, and there is a pair of skis in the foreground.

In 1980, another record-breaking storm rolled through, dropping 6 inches in a single night before coating it with a thick layer of ice. Reed’s trees were no match for the ice’s weight, and nearly every single one was damaged:

A clipping from a February *Quest* article from 1980, describing damage to campus from 6 inches of snow.

Not to be outdone by some measly sky-fallen ice, students have had their own weather-borne impacts on campus. In 2014, Reed made headlines around the state, when a group of students created an 800 pound snowball near the Grove dorms. A pair of math majors miscalculated–clearly they hadn’t earned their laurels yet–and an attempt to send it down the hill to crash on 28th Street sent it careening off course instead. It smacked into one of the Reed College Apartments instead, ripping a wall off its studs. Fortunately, no one was harmed, and the snowball narrowly missed the window.

The snowy behemoth cut a path of destruction on the way to its rendezvous with destiny (aka the Reed College Apartments).

In 2021, Mother Nature proved, once again, that she is not to be outdone with snowy carnage. Again, only about 6 inches of snow fell on the city, but it was combined with freezing rain, which clogged downspouts and increased the weight borne by roofs around the city. In dramatic fashion, the Reed gym collapsed under the pressure:

Michael Lombardo, director of athletic, fitness, and outdoor programs, stands before the ruins of Gym I and Gym II.

Were we to see even half of the snow the East Coast is blanketed in, I have to believe even the Old Dorm Block might meet its wintry end! Instead of longing for a few snowflakes, I will have to resign myself to appreciating that the forecast calls for weather in the 50s with sunshine, as out of place as it may seem.

– The Prexy Ghost

The 50th Anniversary of Reed Rugby: 50 Years of Reed-Sanctioned Mud Wrestling

Before American Football, there was rugby and before rugby there was rugby, and our school has been playing rugby officially for 50 years now. Starting in 1974, the proud members of the Rugby club had only a book on rugby as their head coach and a foreign exchange student from Keele as their assistant coach. Somehow, they managed to win their first game, but that was probably mostly due to dumb luck. Paul Lucre ’92 said that they only won two games while he played on the rugby team, but nevertheless he had a lot of fun. Eventually, the rugby team managed to get a coach by the name of Peter Carmini. The Rugby team back then was dirt poor and could not even buy their own Rugby balls, they had to ‘acquire’ them through various means (and from various teams).

Rugby players in 1974

One time the rugby team was going to play against a Catholic School, and some students decided that it would be funny to dress as monks, and bring out a cross and burn it in front of the Catholic players. Understandably, the Catholic players were not pleased and promptly left without playing a game.

Typically, when people talk about Rugby, they are talking about two different styles of Rugby: fifteens and sevens. Fifteens is fifteen players versus fifteen players, and sevens is seven players versus seven players. The beauty of Rugby lies in the fact that you need all kinds of body sizes to make an effective team—you need your big guys to play forward positions because they can tackle and hit more effectively, meanwhile the smaller and faster people play as backs. These are your scorers, they run around with the ball and score tries (Rugby touchdowns). Personally, I enjoy the rush of tackling someone to the ground (Yes officer, I assure you I am indeed a sane person), but in rugby there is a position for everyone’s body size and for everyone’s interests. Rugby is not a gentlemanly game played by thugs, it’s a thuggish game played by gentlemen.

50 years of anything is bound to create traditions, and Reed Rugby is no exception. At the end of the year all the members, regardless of gender, put on prom dresses and play rugby. The Rugby team is also famous for winning the owl fight on multiple occasions, sometimes in collaboration with other entities like the Russian House, or sometimes just by themselves. (Bulky Reedies who exercise regularly and have built-in teamwork are bound to do well in a brawl for a concrete owl.) Some traditions have changed, for example, there used to be a tradition where after a person scored their first try they would have to strip naked and dance. This has (thankfully) been replaced with just drinking a beer out of a boot. Rugby players in prom dresses during a skirmish

The Reed Rugby Team is not just a team of Reed students; it merged with Lewis and Clarke to form the Reed Lewis and Clarke rugby club or simply RLC, which has two teams under it, the W+ team and the M+ team or the Porcupines and River Rats, respectively. This merger is most beneficial for everyone since we get to borrow LC’s football players while they get more bodies on their rugby team. At the end of the day, we get more wins, which is great for all parties involved. To celebrate the 50th Anniversary of Reed Rugby, there was a game held on the Rugby Field during Reunions. Many people showed up and despite some of the alumni’s ages, a lot of them were just as fast and just as slippery as they were when they started playing rugby.

Mildly Concussed,

William

From the Ashes of Vandalism and Theft, a New Boar’s Head Rises

A long, long time ago, there was Boarus: the first boar’s head. Alas he was stolen and brutishly attacked by three dogs (who gnawed off one of his ears). After his career ending injury sometime ago, he retired and Boarus Jr. took up the mantle of Boar’s Head until his retirement last year. Not to leave an opening in the procession, we now have a third contender for the Boar’s Head.

This young, up-and-coming prospect hails from an unknown curio shop, picked up by an alum and graciously donated to Alumni Relations. This new boar’s head was drafted first overall by the Reed Alumni Relations, after impressing scouts with its ability to win staring contests and being overall unwieldy and heavy. But, what the boar makes up for in unwieldiness and overall prowess as a boar’s head, it lacks in a name, and this is where you come in, dear alum.

We, Alumni Relations, must identify this nameless boar’s head, and we need your input. We need a name, any name will do, Wilbur, Franklin, Boarus Jr the III, or even Chris P. Bacon. It does not matter, we just need something shorter than the boar. Our draft pick requires a name by December 12 in order for him to participate in the holiday festivities in time. Got an idea? Submit a suggestion now!

Scouting New Prospects,

William Clarke ’27

A visit from…Boarus?

More rapid than owls, his coursers they came.

And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name;

Now Diver! Now Doyle! Now Chittick and Ladd!

On Foster! On Scholz! On Quincy in plaid!

So up to the holiday party they flew

for eating with friends and dancing too.

As the holiday season approaches, so does Reed’s annual alumni holiday party. Have you heard the Reed myth about a group of people dressed in black druidic robes, marching in a hallowed procession that includes a cappella singing, torches, and a boar’s head on a pallet? This curious scene isn’t just lore; it’s the annual alumni holiday party. This yuletide celebration dates to the college’s early years, with the boar’s head procession appearing in the 1920s and becoming quite the beloved tradition.

For many years in England, a roasted boar’s head has been associated with holiday feasting. The custom may be associated with the Norse practice of sacrificing a boar to the god Freyr during the winter solstice, in order to gain his favor in the new year. It seems that the tradition moved from Scandinavia to England with St. Stephen, whose feast day is December 26. The “Boar’s Head Carol” dates to the 15th century, and the words and tune used in Reed’s performance are the same as those sung every Christmas at Queen’s College, Oxford.

We hope that whether you’re able to join us for this festive occasion on campus on December 13 or not, you’ll have a great holiday season. Stay tuned for updates on our friend dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot.

Sending holiday cheer,

The Alumni Relations Team

Hallowed Ween

A story of Ye Olde Reed, from Mark Mclean ’70

One Halloween, back in the late sixties, several of us from our dorm set out in search of something to do. We soon found ourselves in the company of some other Reedies who were driving a station wagon full of pumpkins. (In those days, any pumpkins left unharvested by Halloween were considered up for grabs.) We sought out creative and novel applications for those pumpkins. Someone tossed one out the window as we sped down 122nd, which was (still is?) one long used car lot. A salesman was trying to make a late night sale to a respectable looking middle aged couple. The most prominent feature of the car in question was hubcaps that would have felt quite at home in Ben Hur’s chariot race. We can only speculate as to how the salesman’s pitch was affected by the sight of a pumpkin bounding across the sidewalk at near-relativistic velocity, finally coming to rest firmly impaled on the left front hubcap of the car.

There were assorted alarums and excursions in the night, including a moment of stark terror when a poorly aimed pumpkin became lodged firmly in the undercarriage of a police car. The officer apparently was unaware of this, and, to our great relief, drove off, leaving a long trail of shredded pumpkin on the pavement.

Eventually, our exhaustive research into the pointless and annoying deeds which can be performed using pumpkins was completed, the hour was late, and we still had a lot of pumpkins to get rid of. It was decided that the only politically correct solution to the problem was to unload the cargo at the front door of our friendly local draft board. Having accomplished that, we made good our escape, and went in search of what was left of a good night’s sleep.

The next evening, the front steps of the draft board appeared on the evening news. All was as we had left it, except that some dufus or dufi unknown had reduced the pumpkins, in situ, to a huge mound of pie filling. The final verdict on this episode was delivered by the local news anchorman, who solemnly intoned, “It’s the work of militants”.

Mark Mclean, Class of 1970

Fall on Campus

As the weather cools down and students get into the swing of classes, Reed’s campus begins to transform. The bright greens of the lawns and trees in the summer shift into oranges and reds as the falling leaves coat the ground. The canyon comes to life with all the vibrant warm hues of the leaves and the crisp crunching sounds they make as Reedies trample across them on the way to class. Maybe I’m biased, but I think fall is the prettiest season by far (especially at Reed)!

I’ve even heard rumors that fall is the best season for spotting the otters in the canyon–keep your eyes peeled!

Looking forward to jumping in a pile of leaves,

The Prexy Ghost

Oodles of Owlettes

At the beginning of the year, when Reed college gets a new group of students, these wide-eyed kids get to hang out for a week before the rest of us arrive. Orientation is the time for these upcoming freshmen to get acquainted with the campus, and each other. I have fond memories of greeting at least half the freshmen class during my first day of orientation week, and then spending the next two days in my room, slowly recharging my social battery. Other people who are extroverts actually spent those other days going about and making friends.

Another thing I remember during my orientation how there were long stretches of nothing followed by everyone getting crammed into the Kaul Auditorium to learn about the joys of drug abuse or Reed’s sexual harassment policy. All of which every new student totally remembers. One thing that the older alums might not remember ever seeing are the Orientation Week Leaders (OWLs)–these are students who are tasked with talking about the ins and out of Reed and answering any questions these freshmen might have. I remember how my OWL talked about which professors were amazing and which classes were hard to get. Freshmen then get the moniker “Owlettes” during these first few weeks.

Some lucky Reedies even got to go on Odysseys, which are trips either around Portland or the Pacific Northwest, either to go white water rafting or walk around Portland and sample all the wonderful food carts. In years past, they’ve included bike tours, backpacking, and rock climbing trips too! Some freshmen this year went surfing on the Oregon Coast, or on a Deschutes river rafting trip, or out to explore the iconic waterfalls of the Columbia River Gorge. They have a chance to borrow outdoor gear they might need from the Backpack Co-Op. If you went on an Odyssey, I would love to hear about your experience and where you went.

Keeping an eye on the Owlettes,

William Clarke ’27

A Very Reedie Limerick

Reed hosted a limerick contest in 2015, and while many are too lewd to share here, a few struck me as particularly worth revisiting, ten years later.

There once was a poor kid so alien
to her family episcopalian
she became a red Reedie
and took up graffiti
in the form of a thesis Hegelian.
Anonymous Reedie

Would you believe me if I told you there were 17 theses listed in the library with “Hegel” in the title? That feels a little low, if I’m being honest…

Those debates on the Reed Facebook forum
Tend to bring out the worst trolly foram.
They stick out their tongues
And find themselves stung.
‘Cause to Olde Reed and Nu? They just bore ’em.
Anonymous Reedie

Thank goodness Reed (Unofficial) has settled down a bit in the last 11 years…

Reed’s symbol, our favorite Doyle owl
Must be stolen, lest someone cry foul.
Each and every theft Leaves some Reedies bereft
And incites other ones to the prowl.
Janet Svirsky ’64

The Doyle Owl makes me feel the need to wax poetic from time to time myself, for sure.

“Kids these days have gone soft in the head;
they should do it the old way, instead!”
Hey, it’s ok to mourn –
but no need for such scorn.
Every era’s Olde Reed will be dead.
Lev Navarre Chao ’12

Ah yes, the second most common motto at Reed, behind “Atheism, Communism, Free Love”–Olde Reed is Dead. I like Lev’s take on the matter, though!

Humming off to the Great Lawn,

The Prexy Ghost