Munier: Andrew, of all the interesting crap stored down here at 139 W. State Street, my favorite must be the collection of old Cornellians in the Editor-in-Chiefs office. Pick a year, and you discover a lot about what Cornell must have been like back then.

Andrew: Agreed. I just sent in my check for the 2010 edition. Wouldn't it be fun to go through some of the oldies and see how they stack up against newer ones?

Munier: Sounds like a plan.

Andrew: This one leaped off the shelf with is white leather cover... 1942

Munier: Ew.

Andrew: As I was saying, the photos are remarkably formal. Men and women segragated, uniform clothing, haircuts, absence of facial hair.

A page of women's senior potraits in 1942

Members of the Delta Upsilon fraternity posed for a photo. A famous Sun editor lurks in the background...

Munier: Yes, "Stepford" is the word I was looking for. The neat array of women's head shots seems like an oddly homogeneous catalog for mass produced China dolls.

Andrew: There is something beautiful and classic in the way it's all arranged, though. If a fraternity today were to line up in perfect rows in matching suits, ties and slicked back hair, I'm pretty sure a photo of that would be called ironic. Guys and girls back then all seemed to adopt the same style, but it was a good style. Do you agree?

Munier: Good or bad, I can't say. But noble? Probably. It's war time, Andrew. And these men and women had faith in institutions and wanted to believe our nation knew how to handle the shit show about to go down. This yearbook is about people, and their place in organizations. I see honor societies, business societies, fraternal societies... the 1942 Cornellian doesn't seem to spare much room for campus photography, and it's devoid of anything political taking place beyond Ithaca. And white. Very, very white.

Andrew: The same cannot be said of the 1971 Cornellian. Leafing through its pages, the first thing I noticed was the conspicuous absence of names — names of people, photographers, editors, organizations. Whether this in itself constituted a political statement, I can't say. But the book is most definitely about expression. It's political, it's whimsical and it's having fun with its own chaos. Case in point, page 32: a blank, white page inscribed with the words, "this is a nervous little decade we're playing with."

Munier: No one says anything that melodramatic anymore. Except Sun columnists. But you're completely right. The publication is dominated by photography, and it's incredibly personal and contextual. We have individuals, displayed in candid poses. There is a lot of nature — seasons, rain, snow, the gorges and folks lounging in the grass. I even spotted some canabis, both being grown and smoked. There's protest and even the greeks seem mildly counter-culture.

Students construct a barricade on the bridge over Cascadilla Creek

A bra-less feminist poses outside Morrill Hall

A picture of bare feet from the 1971 Cornellian

Andrew: Even the photos of North Campus construction are somehow unflattering. They highlight the "squareness" of the buildings and the destruction of pastoral beauty.

Munier: Nobody cares for the woods anymore. More than anything, this yearbook screams journalism. It's clear the editors had a single goal in mind: tell a story about what people experienced in 1971, and the ideas they were thinking. It's not a taxonomy of the undergraduates — it's a product of their world view. Is that too dramatic?

Andrew: You? Dramatic? Never. But I think the same is true of the 2007 Cornellian, it's just the students are thinking radically different things. The glossy paper and Photoshop style are just as corporate as the upbeat articles and flattering bios throughout. If I were an alien and only had the 2007 Cornellian to study the human race I would think that everything was great, everyone was above average and things are only going to get better.

Munier: Better, or with a new drive-thru and improved customer service. "Advertisement" comes to mind here. It's like Student Agencies is trying desperately to play Madison Avenue on this one. Cornell's assets and diverse clubs and activities are on full display, just in case your next potential-employer asks you to bring a yearbook to your job interview. I can't help but feel this modern product is a bit closer to its 1942 counterpart...

Andrew: I'm with you. The pictures are in color, the shirts are un-tucked, and there are many more non-white faces, but the underlying message is the same: we love our organizations. The sad part is that, in all likelihood, the 2007 editorial staff had looked through books from the 40s and 70s and chose the style of the former.

Munier: It seems today we have a lot more faith in institutions, and a huge willingness to subscribe to the collective. It's about box-checking and covering your bases. Check out the headlines in the activities section: "Academic, Engineering, Unique, Culture, Service..." It's like reading a Cornell Viewbook.

"Culture" in 2007

"Fashion" in 2007

Andrew: Yup, the book feels engineered to increase our yield. To be sure, all three of the books are very much situated in time — whether that time was defined by preparing for national service, social upheaval or striving for excellence. I would guess that none felt shocking or out of place to the seniors who bought them.

Munier: Agreed. But I consider this a problem. Should Cornellians (the people) be selling our University via the Cornellian (the book)? Are we the ultimate children of the consumer economy?

Andrew: I don't think I am, but that's definitely how a child of the consumer economy would respond to that question. I just hope this year's Cornellian pays less attention to job placement and Spring Break than it does to our ideas and the pleasures of living and studying in this weird little place.

Munier: Amen.