Marginals spanning more than 60 years gathered in Ithaca on May 4th, to celebrate Watermargin’s 75th anniversary.  The evening brought alumni together with current members of the house, and featured reflections from various speakers, including: 

  • George Panayatov ‘08, Watermargin Board President

  • Jenny Gray ‘18, Watermargin Board Secretary

  • Shahad Salman ‘24, Current Watermargin House President

  • Mike Black ‘97, former Watermargin Board President

Dan Morrison (1967) shared some memories from his time in the house, an excerpt which can be read below:

“The only issue that differentiated me from Mark was the degree to which Watermargin should be involved in the salient and divisive issues of the day. While Mark held that the organization should maintain neutrality on these issues, I advocated taking a more active role in confronting them. I actually did believe this but didn’t expect to have the opportunity to implement it. The mid- to late 1960s were a turbulent time in the U.S. and also at Cornell. The civil-rights movement was evolving into a more militant form, with demands for Black Power competing with the traditional appeals for an end to segregation and discrimination. The biggest source of conflict within American society in these years was, however, the escalating Vietnam War. I was an anti-war protester from day one—I like to boast that I was protesting against the Vietnam War before most people knew there was a Vietnam War. There is a 1965 issue of the Cornell Daily Sun with a front-page photo of me and a small group of protesters marching against the war in downtown Ithaca. In addition to local rallies, busloads of Cornell students went repeatedly to mass anti-war demonstrations in Washington and New York City. I was always on these buses, along with other Watermargin members.”

Jenny read from a new book written by Barrett Klein ‘93 (who unfortunately could not attend) describing the time he organized an entomophagy event at the house:

“Hans Bethe, Nobel Prize–winning physicist and former head of the theoretical division of the Manhattan Project, let me enter his Cornell University office—what looked to me like a cluttered bunker lost in time. Remaining in his seat behind his desk, he waited for me, an undergraduate student, to state my business. I felt like an intruder and began to second guess my intentions. What could possibly be worth interrupting the work of someone who Freeman Dyson called the “supreme problem-solver of the twentieth century”? I wondered this very thing as I proceeded to invite him to an event I was staging at a campus cooperative—a dinner with insects. In the middle of my rattling, Dr. Bethe slowly lifted his ancient arm, signaling me to pause. Then, with disconcertingly slow motions he . . . opened . . . his . . . desk drawer, pulled . . . out . . . and . . . inserted . . . a hearing aid in his ear. After this prolonged pause, he blankly stared, waiting for me to start over. So I did. After he realized I was not there to discuss stellar nucleosynthesis or solid-state physics, he simply said, “No.” I thanked him for his time, then slinked out.

My visit to invite Carl Sagan, astronomer, author, and television host of Cosmos, went much better. I entered, for the first time, the Space Sciences Building and tried to find Sagan listed in the directory posted on the wall. No one by that name. I asked an administrator and she sighed, responding that they no longer posted his name because it had been stolen too many times. She directed me to his office (room 302), where I found, seated in a surprisingly small space at a tiny desk, one of the most effective communicators of science to have ever lived. He jovially invited me in, listened to my insect-eating overture with delight, and posted my invitation (featuring a drawing of an insect composed of vegetables) on his office wall. He kindly let me know that he may not be able to attend, but thanked me repeatedly, with grace and sincerity. Neither Bethe nor Sagan showed up, but the event introduced those in attendance to the cultural practices and history of entomophagy, with a menu featuring cricket jambalaya, mealworm salad, whole wheat bread supplemented with mealworm flour, pollen cookies with honey, and cochineal-dyed beverages, plus a cameo appearance by silkworm moth pupae. More elaborate events with a far greater diversity of insects exist, but this was a somewhat unusual occasion on a college campus in 1993.”

As the evening closed, we took a moment to recognize the founding members of Watermargin, many of whom have passed, in appreciation of the leadership and vision that started this community that has been a part of all of our lives.


Please reach out to fellow house members who are not currently a part of our email list and invite them join through this link: https://watermargin.org/alumni