True Blue
By Ellen Thompson

 

Yale began creating its own history from the moment its history began. "The Victorious Crew of 1859," a painting held in Sterling Memorial Library's Manuscripts and Archives, is prime evidence. The rowers in the picture are enjoying their moment, but not in the way the adult coaches in the painting would like. They are not taking themselves too seriously. They stand casually. Their oars extend comically upwards, dwarfing the heroes below. But the two elders flanking them understand that history is in the making. One man is turning towards the team, in a posture of battlefield gravity. The other man, identified as Commodore Page, holds a flag and faces inwards as well, barely at ease. The flag he holds may very well be the original source of Yale Blue. To most observers it is a relic of the past, but to University Printer John Gambell the flag taunts, "come and get me."

While the history of Yale Blue is mostly a subject of cocktail conversations among retired alums, for Gambell it is part of his job. In one month the Printer's Office will make a resource available to guide the design of Yale materials. This has forced them to ask the unthinkable: Should Yale Blue be reevaluated? Former University Printer Greer Allen has a range of possible blues in mind. Among them, he said, "My preference would be a color that appears dark, rich blue, which is identifiable from black." Tom Strong, who does graphic design for Yale, prefers a darker blue. For practical purposes there is an official Yale Blue, Pantone 289, but the working definition is another matter. Gambell describes it as "a strong, relatively dark blue, neither purple nor green, though it can be somewhat gray. It should be a color you would call blue."

If the definition of Yale Blue is vague, that is because its history is vague. The early sons of Eli, observing the blue of today, would go red in the face. "Old Yale forever! Ever green may she be!" said William Maxwell Evarts in 1853. Green was Yale's color for half a century, until 1894, when blue officially replaced it. Most responsible for the shift were the members of the "Victorious Crew." Former University Secretary Carl Lohmann traced Yale's blue to an original piece: "A Commodore's flag, a blue silk burgee, heavily fringed with white silk … was bought by Commodore Waite." Within the next decade the crew began to wear pants of dark blue and dark blue handkerchiefs, and their adoring fans wore blue to match.

The origin of Yale Blue was obscured, however, by historians' wish for a grander, longer tradition. In a 1918 article, Franklin Bowditch Dexter looked to the opening days of the Collegiate School for the source of the blue. A purchase of blue calico in 1708 and blue paint on the buildings of the original school were his proof. But Dexter sought a convenient continuity that never existed. His theories were debunked twenty years later.

In 1938 another painting was dedicated to the self-conscious creation of Yale history. This time the canvas was filled entirely by its subject, Yale Blue. Lohmann, the same man responsible for recording the 1853 appearance of Yale Blue, wanted to settle the question once and for all. Under the Office of the Secretary, a piece of silk was chosen to preserve Yale Blue, and a painting made to match it. There are two competing descriptions of the origins of this piece of silk. According to one story, the color was selected with the cooperation of alumni and the administration under Lohmann's direction. In another version, President Seymour bought the silk himself on a trip to Oxford. Given Lohmann's other efforts to enthrone Yale Blue, it seems likely that he is the author. But whatever the source, the color first appeared on President Seymour's inaugural robe. The piece of silk now resides in a vault in Woodbridge Hall and has guided every decision about Yale Blue since.

"Wouldn't it be nice to say it was this Yale Blue," Gambell says wistfully. Yet, even with the cloth in hand, he is still looking for the elusive color. In the mid 1950s the Secretary's Office launched a second search for Yale Blue. The silk and painting from 1938, while adequate for matching fabrics, were little help in matching ink. The Munsell color system, developed in 1952, was the most convenient way to establish a new standard. Rumor has it that when the University made its match and ordered 50 pounds of ink mixed, the ink company replied that they already had that ink in stock: It was the shade used by the Modess sanitary pad company. Whatever pink was put into the cheeks of the past administration has since faded, however, and for Gambell this is just one more lead. When all his facts are gathered, Gambell will decide if the current Pantone 289 is the best representation of Yale Blue, or if a more recently developed Pantone color is a closer match.

Silks fade and color systems change and Gambell is left considering the particulars of tradition. Which choice does better justice to Yale: keeping the current Pantone standard, or adjusting it toward a better bluer past? Greer Allen has had a lot of time to think about this. He has resolved that the question, "if ever settled once and for all, would leave Yale a bland, boring and uninteresting University. So my morning prayers regularly include the fervent hope, 'Dear Lord, please have the answers to the questions surrounding Yale Blue and the Vinland Map forever elude us!"

Ellen Thompson, a senior in Ezra Stiles College, is on the staff of TNJ..