During World War II, Rice had been converted in large part
into a training school for Naval engineering officers.
So while many of the faculty members and
most of the regular male students had disappeared for the duration of the war,
the campus was flooded with naval ROTC cadets preparing for active duty.
Their training was in deadly earnest and a sense of military discipline and
order pervaded life while the war lasted.
The other side of that, though, was a sort of
determination to enjoy life to the very fullest in the face of possible death.
That attitude carried over very strongly after the conflict ended.
With 74 Rice students and alumni out of a tiny student body killed in action,
the shadow of death still hovered.
The students reacted to the long trauma by running as fast as they could to normalcy.
What they wanted now was simply fun.
Mindless, harmless, normal fun.
As far from fear and death as they could get.
It was, for awhile at least, party time.
The year that was nearing its end when de Beauvoir visited had been a whirl of
dances, barbecues, parties, outings to the beach.
The Rice football team had become a national powerhouse and
had played Tennessee that winter in the Orange Bowl.
Every football Saturday, the stadium was packed to the rafters and
game day rituals like pep rallies and bonfires drew huge crowds.
The literary societies, a group of non-Greek letter sororities that played
a leading role in campus social life, sprang back into action with full force
with plays, white glove tees, and new pledges.
It all sounds so innocent from our perspective today, but
things weren't really quite that simple.
De Beauvoir quotes here guide, Professor Moreau, who slyly
notes both the hard drinking ways and the hypocrisy of the Rice campus community.
Moreau did not lead de Beauvoir astray on this.
The place was soaked in alcohol.
Drinking on campus was officially banned, and sanctions were severe if caught.
But numerous photographs of off campus parties and dances show punch bowls and
bottles of all kinds.
Faculty members who were there as chaperones were sometimes seen
with a bottle of their own sticking out of a suit pocket.
And the social world had a point beyond itself.
As they went from dance to party foremost on everyone's mind was marriage.
Both the women and
the men yearned to leave the tragedies of the war behind them.
The deepest expression of this was their eagerness to return to the world that they
had known before.
To pair off and start families just as their parents and grandparents had done.
The students' scrapbooks from the spring semester of de Beauvoir's visit feature
page after page of newspaper clippings announcing engagements and bridal showers.
And finally, Simone De Beauvoir could not help but
notice the unavoidable issue of race.
Southern race relations had hampered Rice from it's very beginning, mostly by making
it difficult to retain faculty members who were not from the region, and who could
not help but be appalled of the treatment of blacks in the city of Houston.
Kept in menial occupations, forced out of participation and
civic life, confined in substandard neighborhoods and
schools, the black population of Houston in 1947 was thoroughly segregated.
At Rice too, segregation was total.
There were no black students admitted until 1965.
By charter, the institution was for whites only.
The only blacks on campus were in the kitchens and
laundry rooms, out mowing grass in the sun, or cleaning equipment.
Sadly, it would be many more years before this would change.
But once again Professor Moreau was right.
Ever since the war, he told de Beauvoir,
blacks have demonstrated a sense of racial solidarity and a will to revolt.
It would take another two decades before black students would be admitted to Rice,
but this too was coming.