In a Letter to the Editor published in The Wellesley News edition of May 12, 1974, an individual by the name of R. Polly Sle championed the newly created term.

“I want to express my admiration and warm thanks to all those people who have worked so feverishly to make winter study at Wellesley in January, 1975 a reality, Wellesley’s first Winter Term promises to be a smashing success!

“The activities will be stimulating (if course titles are an accurate indication) and will provide students the opportunity to round out their education experience with some “fun” courses for a change.

“Moreover, Winter Term participants will learn what it is really like to live in a community. Some may say that we have all been doing that for some time now, but you are wrong. Winter Term will reveal to us the error of that myth. 

“Living together is one of the most important aspects of community life; and, as we all know, living arrangements have been worked out smoothly and to the satisfaction of everyone. The residents of Bates, Freeman and McAfee, who so cheerfully volunteered the use of their rooms, deserve a special thanks. Their enthusiastic cooperation has been a big help in the planning of Winter Term.

“With this success under our belts, we should plan to tackle bigger and better things. How about the residence contract? That definitely needs some revision — grants the student too many rights, we all know that power is dangerous in the hands of those who do not understand it. But that’s just a hint of what’s to come ….”

In the same edition of The Wellesley News, Ellen Myer expressed her disapproval of the Winter Term housing arrangements in a provocatively titled Letter to the Editor, “Winter term violates Rights of students.” In it she critiqued the policy that required all students staying on campus to reside in East Side dorms, forcing those already living there but not staying on campus over January, to completely move out.

“ … Obviously, the Winter Term we are being ‘offered,’ which claims the authorization of Academic Council, bears little resemblance to this proposal in terms of residence policy. Winter Term ’75 can succeed only if the college forces students who cannot or do not want to attend Winter Term to give up their rooms during January. This forced move entails a great deal of time spent packing, since the college will assume no liability for anything left in the rooms; and it requires such great amounts of time in the midst of final exams. Winter Term ’75 is not “voluntary and self-supporting,” as Academic Council mandated it should be.

“Whether or not Winter Term ’75 will occur remains to be seen. If it does, it will represent a gross inequity, a project built upon discrimination and exploitation, of which Wellesley can hardly be proud.”

Three years ago, when it seemed that wintersession might be cancelled permanently to allow time for the long-term construction of many buildings on campus, students and teachers rallied around the importance of the between-semester opportunity, but the program obviously took time to reach its current popularity. Perhaps we owe a debt of thanks to Myer that we get to keep our rooms throughout Wintersession.  

Image credit: Wellesley College Archives

Contact the editors responsible for this story: Phoebe Rebhorn and Hira Khan

Marion was born and raised in Wichita, Kansas and was educated at several Native American institutes before attending Wellesley College. Her father, Henry Roe-Cloud, was the head of the Haskell Institute in Kansas, which was founded in 1884 as a “residential school,” where Native children were forcibly assimilated into Western culture. Her father, who was identified by The Wellesley News as “the Chief of the Bird Clan of the Winnebago Indians,” later worked to pass the Wheeler-Howard act. This act, more commonly known as the Indian Reorganization Act, was intended to decrease federal control of Native American affairs. 

Roe-Cloud lived in Munger during her time at Wellesley, and she decorated her dorm room with what The Wellesley News termed “tribal offerings to the daughter of an Indian Chief,” including ceremonial rugs from the Navajo nation, Cheyenne moccasins and “Sioux slippers of porcupine quills.” Roe-Cloud was a member of the Phi Sigma society, a Durant Scholar and Editor-in-Chief of the Legenda. She completed an Honors thesis in Sociology titled “Indian Land Policy and its reconstruction in the United States with special reference to the Kickapoo Reservation.” When she graduated from Wellesley, Roe-Cloud wore traditional regalia under her robe as a tribute to her heritage. A Wellesley publication described Roe-Cloud in her regalia as a “true Hiawatha maiden.”

After graduating from Wellesley, Roe-Cloud attended the Graduate School of Social Service Administration at the University of Chicago’s Graduate School of Social Service, leading her to work in the Immigrants Protective League. Some time later, Roe-Cloud married and settled in Portland, Oregon, where she became director of the Friendly House Community Center from 1960 to 1969. She was also the coordinator for Girl Scout troops in the North West. Roe-Cloud encouraged Native youth to join the scouts, emphasizing the benefits of scouting to “Indigenous youngsters.” She pushed for more Native Girl Scout troops, as well as for existing scout troops to work near and on reservations. During this time, Roe-Cloud also served as the president of the Portland League of Women Voters. 

Roe-Cloud then pivoted to working with the eldery population. She became the Director of the Oregon state program on aging. Additionally, she was a member of the Joint Legislative Assembly Advisory Committee on the Aged and she attended the White House to speak of her work. Roe-Cloud said of her experience working with the elderly, “I take great pride in the competence and expertise of my staff, since Oregon in the past three years has consistently come up with ‘firsts’ in the field of aging.”

When asked by a Wellesley publication in 1936 about her reasons for attending Wellesley, Roe-Cloud said, “my point in coming to Wellesley is to equip myself with modern methods of social service practice so that I can take back to my people the best of your civilization.” The Wellesley publication goes on to explain that “the splendor and strength which her beautiful Indian possessions symbolize are gone. Her own tribe is reduced to only 2500, and she wants to help her people get a new lease on life.” As the first Native American graduate of Wellesley, Roe-Cloud helped her people by paving the way for future generations of Indigenous Wellesley graduates.

In 1974, a friend of Roe-Cloud nominated her for the Wellesley Alumnae Achievement Awards based on her work with the elderly and the Native population in the Northwest. Despite all she had done for the elderly population in Oregon, all she accomplished for Native Americans, the prejudice she had to overcome and the love she had for Wellesley, she was not nominated. As a result, her work, contributions and achievements are essentially lost. However, Roe-Cloud said that her time at Wellesley was an “unforgettable experience.” 

“The most famous [Wellesley] dog is Siggard … Siggard is buried on campus. But the early faculty members, there was something about them and their dogs — the faculty photos were [taken] with their dogs … I think Siggard was one of the few dogs that ever went to academic council,” said assistant archivist Sara Ludovissy.

The Archives, located on the fourth floor of Clapp Library, may appear menacing with their alarmed doors and rules that staff bombard you with as you enter. But it is just the opposite, for the staff encourages anyone, not just students, to stop by anytime  — with an appointment — to talk about dogs, do research for a class, uncover the history of a student organization they are particularly involved in or just to say hello. The Archives provides several services to the College including helping academic departments store active records, working with student organizations to help them archive and uncover their histories, giving advice about privacy in an increasingly digitized world and providing free scanning services of materials through Clapp’s digital librarian. 

According to college archivist Rebecca Goldman, the Archives was founded in the early 1970s during the lead-up to the celebration of the 100-year anniversary of Wellesley’s founding. This milestone was around the time that people were writing a book about the College’s history, and it is common for institutions to start their archives near an anniversary because writing such an extensive historical recounting requires a well-organized archives. Prior to the founding of the Archives, materials were stored anywhere from a “treasure room” to basements or old faculty offices. 

“It’s very unusual for, say, a college or a nonprofit … to really be thinking about, ‘What do we do with our records in 20 years? Fifty years? One hundred years?’ when they’re getting started, and so it’s very common for institutional archives to get started much, much later than the institution was founded,” Goldman said.

That being said, the College Archives is anything but new to the Wellesley community. Given that it was founded in the early 1970s, its 50th anniversary is right around the corner. Since then, archivists have been working to build up a record of Wellesley’s history. But, because the Archives has not always been around, there are gaps in its collection, particularly content from people of marginalized groups. The archivists are working to fix this: for example, one of Ludovissy’s historical interests is queer history, a topic that is particularly lacking in Wellesley’s Archives.

“I feel really lucky that one of my historical interests, which is queer history, is also one of the gaps in our collection, which is a negative thing but also gives us an opportunity to spend time trying to fill those gaps. Students are really interested in the queer history of Wellesley College, and so it gives me an opportunity, it’s something that I want to know more about here, to really look into records whenever those researcher requests come through, I’m really thrilled to dig in and see how we can fill those gaps … My interest aside, if there’s a hole I’m so happy to fill it, because the more of both sides we hear in our collections, the richer they are,” Ludovissy said.

The Archives team is made up of project archivist Natalia Gutiérrez-Jones, College archivist Rebecca Goldman and assistant archivist Sara Ludovissy. Interestingly enough, not all of the team stems solely from history or library sciences backgrounds. Gutiérrez-Jones has bachelor degrees in comparative literature and Spanish, and Goldman studied psychology and linguistics. Their unique perspectives and studies further enrich their work in the Archives, allowing them to forge relationships with students, study a wide variety of subjects and work in a tight-knit community. 

“There’s just so many really curious and interesting people here that make the work fun … It’s cool when you’re spending a lot of time doing the processing work, and then you get to see someone come in and bring the work that you did to life by doing a presentation or a paper. They spin it into gold. It really makes the work satisfying,” Gutiérrez-Jones said. 

Beyond the overall pleasures of working with the College’s unique history, the little moments make it worth working in the Archives, such as what Goldman described as the “little happy dance” that researchers do when they find something striking. Some instances take an emotional turn, as described by Ludovissy: “They really have a powerful moment where they see themselves in the history of the College, and … they haven’t pictured themselves as a piece of the bigger picture, so bringing out some of those materials and seeing people react to how they are a part of Wellesley history and a part of this sort of legacy … I’ve experienced it myself, where you’re holding a piece of paper that somebody else held that has something in common with you. It’s very cool,” she said.

Even as the Archives remain obscured from the view of the average Clapp Library goer, the archivists urge people to stop by and participate in the uncovering of history not obvious to the public due to the minimal representation of marginalized groups. Yet, before our conversation ended with another discussion about dogs in the Archives, Goldman stressed something she believes everyone should know about the Archives: 

“Archives are not neutral, and archivists are not neutral. We are human, we have biases, our collection reflects our own biases … Rather than trying to be neutral in our work, I think we really have to be proactive in filling gaps in our collections, making sure that we are a comfortable space for researchers who haven’t always felt comfortable using archives and thinking about how the Archives can support the mission of the College … to make history accessible,” Goldman said.  

What many people do not know, however, is that the world-famous teenage detective got her start at Wellesley. The Nancy Drew series was published under the name Carolyn Keene, a pen name for Harriet Stratemeyer Adams ’14. While most people are familiar with Nancy Drew, the story of her creator is fascinating as well.      

Harriet Stratemeyer was born on Dec. 12, 1892 in Newark, New Jersey. She was the eldest child of Edward Stratemeyer and Magdalena Van Camp. She enjoyed climbing trees and reading books. She is quoted as saying she did not want to be a “proper, young lady who should stay at home.” 

Harriet entered Wellesley College in 1910 and was active artistically and creatively. While at Wellesley, Harriet played piano and wrote both fiction and newspaper articles, including some articles that were sold to the “Boston Globe,” according to her biography on Wellesley’s Alumnae Achievement Awards webpage. After graduating with a BA in English Composition in 1914, she was offered a position at the “Globe,” but her father wanted her to return home instead.

That did not stop Harriet from embarking on a literary career. After graduating, Harriet spent a year as her father’s apprentice at the Stratemeyer Syndicate, a group of writers who collaborated to produce not only Nancy Drew novels, but other mystery series for children, including The Hardy Boys, The Bobbsey Twins and Tom Swift, Jr. novels. Each series was published under a different pen name: for example, Franklin W. Dixon for the Hardy Boys and Laura Lee Hope for the Bobbsey Twins. 

Just a year after graduating, Harriet married investment banker Russell V. Adams. They had four children, who they raised in Pottersville and Maplewood, New Jersey, both part of Tewksbury Township. Once she had children, Harriet recalls that her father did not think she should continue writing for money. Between 1915 and 1930, Harriet spent her time writing for local church papers and traveling to the countryside with her family.

This quiet life was not destined to last for very long. Harriet and her sister, Edna, took over the Stratemeyer Syndicate upon their father’s death in 1930. Harriet immediately committed herself to her work for the company. She wrote plot outlines for most of the original Nancy Drew series, oversaw ghost writers who filled in the stories and retained editorial control over the final published works. In 1942, Harriet became a senior partner in the Stratemeyer Syndicate, a position she retained for 40 years.  

When Harriet’s husband died in 1965, a Wellesley professor wrote to her expressing sympathy, and Harriet responded with her thanks, adding that she and her husband had both hoped their granddaughters would attend Wellesley. In 1978, Harriet received an Alumnae Achievement Award from Wellesley College. Two years later, the film company  Protean Productions, Inc. produced a 30-minute documentary titled “Harriet S. Adams and the Stratemeyer Syndicate.” The film incorporates archival photographs and illustrations as well as clips from movies and TV adaptations of Stratemeyer Syndicate books. The documentary includes footage of Harriet herself discussing her life and work. At the beginning of the film she describes growing up with her father’s stories. 

“I grew up in a storybook house,” she recalled. 

She also described her philosophy in writing the Nancy Drew novels, as well as the other series she was involved in. 

“During the past several years, I have found it necessary to bring to people’s attention that the books are wholesome,” Adams explained. “My books are trying to prove to the young reader that life can be wholesome and beautiful.”

  On March 27, 1982, while watching “The Wizard of Oz” for the first time with her family, Adams suffered a fatal heart attack. She was 89 at the time of her death. “The New York Times” ran an obituary on March 29, 1982, with the headline “Harriet Adams Dies; Nancy Drew Author Wrote 200 Novels.” 

Even though Harriet Adams is gone, Nancy Drew continues to influence young readers. The Wellesley 100 now includes an entry calling Wellesley “the birthplace of Nancy Drew,” which students can write about in their admissions essays. When Harriet Stratemeyer Adams said that “Nancy belongs to her generations of readers,” she had no idea how right she was. 

Following the accident, Ostermann started calling himself Nicolas, after the Czar of Russia, who he claimed was an uncle. Nicolas divorced his husband and settled in the Chicago area, working as a set designer for theatrical productions. He also worked in interior design, mechanical and architectural drafting, and town planning; some of his clients included Macy’s and Gimbels.

At Wellesley, Ostermann was a German Major and involved on the Hockey team. He participated in Float Night as a substitute punter and was a member of Eliot Dorm, which was a dorm located around the corner from Scoop. He had a sister who was three years younger than him and also attended Wellesley. 

Nicolas began transitioning in the 1950s, following the car accident mentioned. He was placed in a sanatorium for “mental unwellness,” a diagnosis potentially related to his gender identity. While in the sanatorium, his mother wrote a letter on his behalf to the 1936 Class Council, informing them that Nicolas was disappointed and would not attend reunion.

In Ostermann’s own words he had a “near fatal injury in 1952, I discovered that I was not a woman at all. I have spent the years since that time piecing together what is certainly one of the most unusual histories in the annals of the human race.” Later in 1981, Ostermann called the experience an “unexpected, though not unhoped for, turn” and was “truly a blessing.” Describing his own gender identity, Nicolas said that he had to clarify often in communications with alums and administration that he “did not have a sex change. [He] had a sex revelation … I did turn out to be a male in disguise. In a different letter, he said, “As the world is full of imposters, it is important to know that Edith and Nicolas are one and the same person” 

Nicolas’s own journey to his gender identity can best be described in his own words. In 1964, Ostermann wrote a letter to a publication saying, “As each Christmas season has come and gone, I have despaired of making it to the next, not so much because I have not learned how to survive against the odds, but because my mind cannot blot out the memory and the promise of its rightful environment … I am settled, pending improvements, in an apartment in a part of Chicago relatively unfamiliar to me … I would give anything to be able to chat with you privately and tell you who I really am … I desperately need to know that is still a real world and that its doors are not barred against me. I have no such knowledge now … I’d like to thank you, severally and all for what I know you weren’t aware of providing, you gave me nourishment in a lifetime of starvation and I hope that somewhere on earth and in heaven you will be adequately rewarded for it.”

In 1996, Nicolas’s sister wrote to the Wellesley magazine about his death saying that “she was quite a memorable person.”

The life of N.E.B Ostermann challenges the traditional history of Wellesley and provides a unique story through which to reflect on our current environment for our non-binary and transgender siblings. Nicholas’s story is one that has been erased and pushed out of the narrative. Wellesley has always been an institution for those who faced misogyny and homophobia, and this is not a recent development. The administration and older alums believe that Wellesley has always been a place for women, but Nicolas’s story is one of many that have been recently uncovered. Through celebrating and recognizing the life of Nicolas Ostermann, we hope to celebrate all the unrecognized non-binary and transgender students and graduates and connect to those who came before us.

The rediscovery of N.E.B. Ostermann’s life could not be done without the efforts made by the Wellesley Archives Staff, Rebecca Goldman, Sara Goldman, Rebecca Ludovissy, and Natalia Gutiérrez-Jones.