When this photo was taken around 1890, the clock’s mechanism used a 1,000-pound weight that fell to the ground every eight days. UW Archives

It’s hard to believe now, with smartphones in our pockets and smartwatches on our wrists, that UW students once relied on the Music Hall clock tower at the foot of Bascom Hill to make it to class on time.

In 1922, the Daily Cardinal offered this bit of service journalism: “It is poor policy … for a student to set his watch by looking at the hands of the tower clock, for he is below, looking up, and the perspective is such that he cannot get the exact time.”

Instead, UW students keyed their watch to the chimes of the clock tower’s bell, which marked the top of an hour — “always within 20 seconds of being correct.”

But even those students had the new luxury of wristwatches. When Music Hall was built in 1878, the 100-foot-high clock tower became one of the only places on campus to reference the official time. The clock featured four faces, with dials six feet in diameter and brass-studded Roman numerals.

To tell time, the clock tower looked to the sun and stars — or rather, to the Washburn Observatory. UW astronomers took celestial readings to calibrate the observatory’s master timepieces. Then, according to the book Chasing the Stars, they used what was likely the city’s first telephone line to listen in on the tower clock’s rhythms and note corrections. Shortly after, the observatory installed an electrical system that delivered signals regulating the Music Hall clock.

Originally, the clock’s mechanism used a 1,000-pound weight that would fall to the ground every eight days. At that point, a pair of herculean workers would spend an hour-plus cranking it up 50 feet to keep the clock ticking.

The clock was made automatic with electrical winding in 1933.

Music Hall was first called Assembly Hall and later Library Hall for its original functions — seating the whole student body in a large auditorium and housing the main book collection. It soon became home to the new School of Music and was officially renamed in 1910. Music Hall served as the school’s headquarters until 1969, after which it was largely left to the University Opera and the urban planning department.

Earlier this year, the UW announced it would use a lead gift from Herb Kohl Philanthropies to renovate Music Hall into the future home of the La Follette School of Public Affairs and rename the building after the late senator. The updates will modernize the interior while keeping the iconic exterior intact — including the clock tower. So, tomorrow’s students will still have no excuses for being late to class.

Hoofers is dedicated to making its activities accessible to people at all levels of experience — including no experience. Adam Remus

When you attend a university that sits on a lake, how could you not appreciate the outdoors?

Fortunately, since the 1930s, the Wisconsin Hoofers has taken advantage of UW–Madison’s proximity to nature. While sailing on Lake Mendota remains the student-led organization’s most recognizable and popular programming, Hoofers also offers membership to clubs that span every season and an enormous range of outdoor activities.

The Sailing Club organizes lessons, rentals, and races. The Outing Club guides wilderness excursions across the state and country, from canoeing and whitewater kayaking to backpacking and snowshoeing. The Mountaineering Club climbs the indoor rock wall of Union South, the bluffs of Devil’s Lake State Park, and summits as far as Spain. The Riding Club saddles up for lessons and competitions on horseback. The Scuba Club dives underwater to explore local lakes and international waters. The Ski and Snowboard Club trains at Tyrol Basin in Mount Horeb, rides down mountains out west, and chases winter conditions all the way to Chile in the off months.

Wisconsin Hoofers is not only unique for these broad offerings but also for its mission to make outdoor adventure accessible to people at all levels of experience — including no experience — thanks to robust education and certification programs.

“At other universities, the riding club might be limited to folks who have been riding since they could walk. But here, we’ve had students who’d never even seen a horse before going on to learn, compete, and win nationals,” says Madeleine Carr, communications specialist for the Wisconsin Union, which houses Hoofers.

Bree Ward-Debauche

More than 2,220 students, faculty, staff, and community members are active members of Hoofers. Joining a club requires a Wisconsin Union lifetime or annual membership (if not a student) and a separate fee that helps cover equipment.

Hoofers’ popularity has prompted UW–Madison to propose a $2.7 million renovation of its boat storage and education facility by the Memorial Union shoreline. The project would use private funds and add equipment rental and storage space plus a rooftop event area.

Hoofers, it seems, is here to stay.

“Every year, people join the Mountaineering Club who are scared of heights, and then within a year, they’re teaching others how to set anchors,” says Luke Waldhuetter ’26, president of the Hoofers Council. “Even for me, I had never been scuba diving before Hoofers, and now I love planning dive trips and relating to a whole other community. It’s completely changed my life.”

Sahil Joshi

In our spring 2026 issue, “State Street, That Great Street” revisited old haunts and showcased new favorites on UW–Madison’s legendary campus corridor. The article spurred an outpouring of letters from alumni who fondly recalled their own days on State Street — and who passionately advocated for bars, stores, and restaurants we didn’t have space to mention.

Many thanks to Preston Schmitt for his stroll down the memory that is State Street. A brisk walk from Library Mall to the Capitol and back provided just the intellectual respite I needed after hours slogging through GPA killers like organic chemistry and calculus. Serious studying requires reinvigoration, and the seemingly endless parade of State Street denizens provides that for me. In many ways, I owe my academic success to those walks. State Street is, indeed, a special place in Madison.

—Michael T. Selch ’73

In the spring semester of 1970, I was a junior waitressing at Gargano’s pizzeria on State Street — late shift. That was the year the Vietnam War expanded into Cambodia and the classes I inhabited seemed to virtually shut down — everyone was meeting and protesting. I thought it was better to take the semester off and earn some money. I have four memories: sloshing a plate of spaghetti into a customer’s lap, convincing my shifts to pool tips (I wasn’t a very good waitress), smashing iceberg lettuces on the table to pull out the hard core, and the joy of sunrise after a long night of work, then sleeping till afternoon. Those were the days!

—Robin Kutner ’72

My parents lived on Hawthorn Court just off State Street when I was born in 1950. I had many fun State Street experiences shopping, dining, and drinking during the crazy ’60s and ’70s (especially Saturday pregame beers on a window stool at The Pub).

Once the Orpheum Theater offered two free tickets to a James Brown concert for the best reason someone would deserve to see the show in 10 words or less. My submission: “My girlfriend will dump me if I don’t get tickets.” One year after attending that great show, my James Brown date became my first wife! We even got our wedding rings at Goodman’s Jewelers on State Street.

—Doug Lindquist ’72, MBA’73

Thanks for the great article about State Street. What a wonderful trip down memory lane. My family moved to Madison in 1973 when I was just 10 years old. My first memories of State Street revolve around our hippie mom treating my sister and me to toasted cinnamon raisin bagels smothered with peanut butter and honey, served at the aptly named Good Karma restaurant. I think it was in a basement on the south side of the 500 block.

I remember Lake Street Station, which was a record store and weed paraphernalia shop.

Sacred Feather sold more than just hats. I’m still carrying a fine leather wallet I purchased there in the 1980s, along with a matching leather checkbook cover and datebook cover, still in great shape, although the latter two have been rarely used in the last couple decades, what with electronic banking and calendars.

When I was a teenager, several blocks of State Street were still open for driving private cars. It was a great place to cruise and people-watch on a Saturday night. As a 16-year-old I used to think that college students were so mature.

Great memories!

—Tom Hazen x’88, MBA’95

Nice job on “State Street, That Great Street.” I have vivid memories of my days at the UW and, of course, of State Street. It was the place to be for good food and nightlife. In my opinion, there is one glaring omission in your article — The Pub. Certainly no establishment during the late ’60s and early ’70s served more UW students than The Pub. It was busy on weeknights and packed on the weekends.

—Gary Konwinski ’74

When I attended the UW in the late 1960s, our group would hang out at the KK (Kollege Klub). Ed Sweet ’70 would start playing the Subway pinball machine and one of our friends would continue playing throughout the day, usually on his first dime. Of course, we would eat their burgers and O Steak and beers. We also played Palooka at Burgerville. To cap off the day, Ella’s Deli. I come back many times a year to eat at State Street Brats.

—Jay Bubrick ’71

I thoroughly enjoyed reading “State Street, That Great Street” — the attention to detail in particular. I’ve reread it several times.

My memories of State Street are numerous, one being the couple steps up to Rennebohm’s at State and Lake, known to many of us students simply as “The Pharm,” to enjoy a cake after classes.

In my senior year, the main assignment in Elizabeth Patterson’s feature writing class in journalism school was to write and sell a feature story. I chose the busy little popcorn shop on the wedge-shaped corner of State just west of the Orpheum. The shop was bustling with customers — many of them UW students — selecting their favorite flavor before watching a movie at the Orpheum or the Capitol right across the street. The Orpheum and the Capitol were the city’s top first-run houses for years. I did sell the story to a trade publication and earned an “A.”

One more memory of State Street is the Toddle House, a little freestanding restaurant on the north side of State about halfway between Park Street and the Capitol building. While walking back to the dorms on Lake Mendota, we students would often stop for a breakfast-type snack at the Toddle House after a movie. It was clean, friendly, and inexpensive.

Good memories!

—Dan Omernik ’57

There was The Pub located on State Street. One year, the Badgers basketball team was at Ohio State for an afternoon game. We were badly outmatched against a team that included future NBA and Hall of Fame players. We were listening to the game (on radio) at the frat house, and somehow Wisconsin won!

We all raced down to The Pub to celebrate. Now, there were two rules at The Pub that would get you kicked out: number one, dancing on the tables. Number two, “accidentally” dropping and crashing your glass beer mug on the floor.

So, I’m dancing on one of the tables, when the bouncer (future Governor of Wisconsin Tommy Thompson) grabs me to kick me out. At that point, our fraternity president yells: “If Feldman goes, we all go,” and along with everyone else in The Pub, drops his glass beer mug, which crashes on the floor! Then everyone heads for the door as fast as they can. (It took two days to clean up the place.)

Fast forward 25 years or so. Tommy Thompson is now governor. He’s hosting a reception at the Governor’s Mansion for industry folks and publishers to celebrate the 75th anniversary of the American Dairy Association.

There’s a reception line to shake hands with the governor. When it’s my turn, he grabs my hand tightly and says: “I know you from someplace!” So we spend the rest of the reception retelling the story, and the governor graciously takes us on a tour of the mansion.

Solid guy, that governor.  Should have run for president!

—Martin Feldman ’64

I remember many fun and inebriated times at Madison from 1982 to 1986. One of the greatest memories was the Halloween celebration in 1982. The event really blew my mind at the time, as there were over 110,000 people on State Street that Saturday evening. The Badgers crushed Northwestern University earlier that day, and the rest of the day was one big party extravaganza. I remember getting dressed up in Halloween garb and painting my face like a zebra. Walking up State Street that evening was like being a blood cell in a vein. It was really packed. The police greased the light poles, but people still climbed them. There were people stripping in apartment windows above the shops on State Street. There were no rules on carry-ins, and the crushed glass on the street was inches thick. It was amazing that so few people got injured that evening.

One of my favorite bars on State Street was the State Street Infirmary, which was not listed in the article. I liked the bar because they served gyro sandwiches which were just about as good as those at the Parthenon. The bartenders there would give me breaks on paying for the sandwiches and drinks, and often just poured lines of shots on the bar. Unfortunately, one of the last evenings I was there it burned up.

—Rob Martens ’86

The Preston Schmitt State Street article brought back many fond memories. Breakfast at Rennebohm’s before 8:45 classes, and the Chocolate Shoppe was always a treat. One retail store that was omitted was The Clothes Post. They had the proper blue blazer or whatever was needed for the collegiate look.

—William Soman ’70 

Memories of State Street during freshman and sophomore years at Ann Emery Hall (1944–46), with World War II raging. Ann Emery was behind shops on State Street, very handy for those of us living in that dorm.

Cigarettes rationed. Students lined up single-file at the pharm to get one pack. Glad I never smoked.

Chocolate Shoppe a lovely, quiet popular retreat for heavenly chocolate yummies. Great spot to relax with friends and reflect on the day’s activities.

The Cabin (I think that’s what it was called) was a small, popular beer haunt. Sat on the tables, feet on benches. Always crowded.

Ice-skated on Library Mall — beginning of State Street then.

—Joan Chalmers Harris ’48

I graduated from the UW in 1973 and haven’t lived in the area since 1984. I was a frequent customer at The Brathaus because Warren Lamm (Lammy) was my uncle. I have often visited State Street Brats when back in Wisconsin visiting family.

Going further back in State Street history was the Log Cabin. I don’t know when it opened but my father, Paul Lamm, ran the Log Cabin, and I understand that he hired Lammy to work there after he returned from World War II.  I find it interesting that in those days steak sandwiches were 15 cents or two for a quarter.

—Katy Lamm Rogers ’73

To my dismay, there was no mention of The Pub or the Varsity Bar (a.k.a. The Var Bar), both of which thrived on lower State Street for a long time. Although I am admittedly older than dirt, there are quite a few of us ancient grads from the early sixties still doddering around, and I can assure you that those two watering holes are fondly remembered as major facets of our UW experiences.

—Marilyn Taylor ’64

Nice walking down memory lane, but there’s a critical omission: Anthology, owned by Madison natives and UW graduates proudly selling Wisconsin and UW-themed gifts, stickers, and paper products. Little Luxuries is mentioned, and although adjacent, the two are distinct stores and each deserve mention, especially as Anthology is locally owned!

—Ann Fritz MS’96, MS’21

I attended the UW from 1986 to 1990. I have many great memories and a lot of them had to do with walking down State Street, alone or with my friends, eating, drinking, shopping, or celebrating Halloween. One particular restaurant meal I remember and enjoyed was called pork noodle at Shanghai Mini’s. It had the perfect amount of spice to it, Napa cabbage and slippery noodles. I wish it was still around because I would go there when I’m in town. I loved meeting people from so many cultures when I was there.

—Patti Newberg Gerhardt ’90

I was dismayed that the State Street article did not mention an institution that has been present on State Street for 119 years, the Saint Paul’s Catholic Student Center. Granted it may not fit into the commercialization facet of the State Street article but is arguably one of the more prominent buildings on State Street and is a cultural touchstone fondly remembered by many alumni.

—Gerry Gosewehr ’75

I remember buying albums at B-side Records. There was a step or two up into the long narrow shop. They would always have a new album playing.  One day it was the 1985 LP by a reunited UK folk band called Pentangle, Open the Door. I stood and listened to almost the whole album, nothing like I ever appreciated before. I still listen to that album often and never would have been aware of it had it not been for that day.

—Shane Zaruba ’87

I don’t get back to Madison often but each time the many changes around campus are exemplified by the different offerings on State Street. So different from my time at the UW in the mid ’80s, where an excursion to that side of campus was always a treat featuring the three P’s – Paul’s Books, Pegasus Games, and Puzzlebox.

—Jim Pederson ’88

Your State Street article certainly brought back many memories to us. Another eatery we can’t forget is The Plaza Tavern on North Henry Street, just a half block off State Street. In 1964 they began selling the Plazaburger with their secret sauce. We’ve tried to replicate that sauce for years without success. Each week we would bring them a shopping bag of empty Coke bottles using the deposit refund as a downpayment on Plazaburgers! Try one — they are still in business.

—Janice Carlson Donner ’66 and Jack Donner ’65, MBA’66

After I graduated and moved back to St. Louis, I used to dream about walking up and down State Street. Preston Schmitt’s story really brought back some great memories. I used to live two blocks off the Capitol Square and would walk State Street all the time. I dragged my husband up and down that street years later and was happy that I could still get a gyro from the Parthenon.

—Valerie Goldston ’85

I really enjoyed the State Street article. I attended the UW in the late 1950s and was trying to recall the name of the Italian restaurant in a basement on State Street. There were murals on the walls and the owner would sing along with the opera records he played over the sound system. I would go there frequently with a friend and enjoyed the spaghetti.  It was such a favorite place that I proposed to my future wife there and gave her a small ring (poor-student size). We have now been married 65 years.

—Richard Garberson ’60

State Street was a great street. Was. The last time we strolled it I cried.

The massive departures are too much for this alumnus. You know it’s bad when The Pipefitter closed.

It was an eclectic mix of small quirky shops and restaurants. No, the libs in Madison let the riots during COVID go on and vandalize small businesses. No, I don’t want a Target on State Street, nor do I want every chain restaurant or clothing store. High-rise apartments absolutely killed the State Street vibe.

It’s gone. So unfortunate that the heart and soul of campus life is now commercialized.

No, we won’t be back for our several-times-a-year visit. My heart can’t take it.

—Mary Hotchkiss ’77

Just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your walk up State Street. Loved the photos and the info about current and, of course, past businesses.

In Ogg West (1970–71) we ordered a lot of Gargano’s pizzas. One nearby dorm door had maybe a couple dozen Gargano’s bill’s taped to it.

The Pub, Chesty’s, Paul’s when the tree was still alive. Marches to the capitol (tear gas and the occasional police club). I appreciate the forbearance and professionalism of the Madison Police.

It’s so nostalgic for me. Enjoy it. It’s wonderful.

 —Scott Wilcott ’86

Jeanne Nye and her granddaughter Charlotte Nye learned about DNA at a biotechnology class at the 2022 Grandparents University. Althea Dotzour

Grandparents University (GPU), the UW–Madison summer event that brings grandkids and their grandparents to campus to enjoy special classes together, was launched by the Wisconsin Alumni Association in 2001. Since then, more than 30 other schools have been inspired to start their own initiatives.

Children between the ages of seven and 14 visit campus with their grandparents or other adults, with many opting to stay in a residence hall. Attendees can register for “majors” in fields ranging from art and music to entomology, nursing, and veterinary science. They also participate in tours of campus destinations such as Camp Randall Stadium, the Geology Museum, and Babcock Dairy.

“We hear all the time from grandparents that kids decided on their college major based on a class they took during Grandparents University,” says Nathalie McFadden ’14, who manages the program.

Julie Underwood, a former dean of UW–Madison’s School of Education, says that her grandkids plan their GPU majors a year in advance. “Kids opening up and learning about things that you would never have an opportunity to teach them — that’s pretty special.” One of her favorite moments was seeing the kids’ faces light up when they got to dance with Bucky Badger at the GPU dance party.

Liz Philosophos Cooper ’77, who attends GPU with her husband, Scott Cooper ’77, and their grandchildren, says the program has lived up to their expectations tenfold. She enjoys experiencing something new through her grandchildren’s eyes and says, “They’re so excited — they talk about it all year round.”

Scott adds that “the instructors do a marvelous job at getting involvement, bringing it down to the kids’ level, and also making it interesting for us.” The kids were thrilled to hear their names called at the graduation ceremony and to choose their own food in the cafeteria. He was also impressed to see how excited they got about the idea of actually attending college when they got older.

During the graduation ceremony, Kate Prehn ’09, who played a key role in the program from 2010 to 2025, began a tradition of asking the children to thank their grandparents. “It is so magical to see them all turn at the same time with huge smiles on their faces, and they throw their arms around each other and high-five,” she says. “It’s just such a special moment. That’s why we do this.”

The nationally syndicated, Peabody Award-winning talk program aired its last episode in fall 2025, but it will not be forgotten — ever. The show’s 2,000-plus episodes have been preserved in the American Archive for Public Broadcasting, a project of the Library of Congress. Fans like me always considered To the Best of Our Knowledge an American treasure, and now it’s official.

The show was an expression of its cocreators’ bottomless curiosity. Steve Paulson MA’83 and Anne Strainchamps were interested in, literally, everything, and they designed To the Best of Our Knowledge to inform and transform their listeners. Each hour-long episode was crafted around an intriguing theme, explored with multiple interviewees and storytelling techniques. Evocative audio snippets and music set the mood for an intellectual and emotional journey.

To the Best of Our Knowledge took the audience’s intelligence as a given, a mark of respect in an age of rampant dumbing-down. It gloried in the world’s great authors, per the commonly used acronym of the show’s name: TTBOOK. Paulson, Strainchamps, and their fellow interviewers were free to explore their personal interests in science, technology, philosophy, history, psychology, spirituality, politics, food, economics, sports, health, and the arts. And their passions became our passions.

Among their hundreds of internationally prominent guests, they spoke to primatologist Jane Goodall about her “mystical experience” with a favorite chimpanzee and to novelist Toni Morrison about “the tiny thoughts that skitter across the imagination.” They put together deep-dive series on the latest psychedelics research and the mind-blowing properties of time. In the best tradition of the Wisconsin Idea, they also featured UW faculty, beaming Madison expertise to the borders of the state and beyond.

Over 35 years, did IQs gradually tick up in the 200 markets where To the Best of Our Knowledge aired? I wouldn’t be surprised.

That’s not to say the show felt like homework. It was always full of laughs and surprises. As it grappled with cosmic questions and eternal mysteries, it also inspired a sense of wonder.

To the Best of Our Knowledge had its peers in the public radio pantheon, such as Fresh Air and This American Life. But it has never — to the best of my knowledge — been surpassed.

Wisconsin Historical Society

In our winter 2025 issue, “Lunch at Rennebohm Drug Store” paid tribute to a go-to gathering spot for UW students from the 1920s to the 1980s. The article spurred this outpouring of letters from fans of Rennebohm’s Bucky Burgers, grilled Danishes, and generous UW scholarships.

Preston Schmitt’s “Lunch at Rennebohm Drug Store” brought back a flood of memories.

As a student at Madison West High School, my friends and I would head to Rennie’s after school for grilled Danish and cherry sodas. If I remember right, the bill was probably under a dollar — and worth every cent. Yep, those Danishes are unforgettable!

Rennebohm’s was also where I had my first job, working as a short-order cook for $2.10 an hour. I especially loved the breakfast rush: there was something satisfying about turning out plate after plate of eggs, pancakes, and toast for the morning regulars.

Later, as a graduate student working at the old UW Hospital Service Memorial Institute building, I found my way back to Rennie’s yet again. My coworkers and I would cross University Avenue for lunch, and it became as much a part of our routine as the work itself.

Rennebohm’s wasn’t just a drugstore or a lunch counter — it was a thread that ran through different stages of my life in Madison. I still miss it.

—Robert Nadler ’77 MS’79

My memory of Renebohm’s is being a short-order cook at the Park Street location close to the Beltline. It was my senior year. I was married and starting as a catcher on the baseball team. (Yes we had a team then.) I don’t remember her name but the lady I worked with was great to me teaching me more than how to cook. A great experience.

—Mike Setzer ’69

In the spring of 1965, I was sitting at my kitchen table in Muscoda, Wisconsin, with both parents working on my budget for going to UW–Madison in the fall. I didn’t have enough money. My parents had none to help me. I had started a savings account at the local bank when I was 12 to start saving for college, but it wasn’t enough. I had some scholarships and qualified for work-study. I would be the first from the family. I couldn’t make the figures work.

I told my parents that unless I got the scholarship from Rennebohm, I would not be able to go. I had applied and was waiting for the result.

A few days later, the letter came from Rennebohm. I tore it open at the post office. I enrolled at UW and frequently ate at the drugstore because I owed them so much.

I’m an international human rights attorney now and hope that my work has repaid them and everyone else who helped me get through college. Thanks from the bottom of my heart.

—Dianne Post ’69, JD’79

Every Sunday at the Rennebohm store on University Avenue across from Liz Waters Hall, I got a grilled Elephant Ear and a large orange juice at the counter. Later in the day it was Paisan’s for a french fried shrimp early dinner. The rest of the week in the basement of the Methodist church, I had three squares, eating at $4.50 a week because I washed the pots and pans after dinner. Can’t beat that!

—Mike Gregg ’58, MBA’63

Memories of Rennebohm Drug Store: a banking window where I could cash a check for $20. Seeing the first copy of Playboy magazine. Having coffee in a booth with friends.

—John Manning ’55

Having been a most grateful Rennebohm scholar in my first two years as a first gen student studying physical therapy at UW, I enjoyed the On Wisconsin article on the Rennebohm drugstores that were everywhere during my time in Madison. This fall I enjoyed a tour of the beautiful new pharmacy building with other members of the Women’s Philanthropy Council. Happy to know it’s named for my benefactor, without whom I would never have been able to afford to attend UW.

—Suzann K. Campbell ’65, MS’68, PhD’73

I was last at Rennie’s on State on a cold December morning in 1979 for breakfast. Then I walked to H. C. White library where I wrote my master’s exam in English. Six and a half hours. I was so relieved after that, I must have broken every law about alcohol and highways getting home. Not proud of that part, but mission accomplished. I’m grateful for those days and the university that provided them.

—Todd Johnson ’73, MA’79

One sister is three years ahead in school and the other three years behind, so I overlapped with each one for a full year. It was great to have a sister on campus at the beginning and end of my college years. One tradition was going to Rennebohm and enjoying a bran muffin and coffee. I did this with both sisters. My younger sister and I did it almost weekly and we enjoyed peanut butter on our muffins too. It was a way to connect, and we loved the muffins and the atmosphere too.

—Maureen Gecht-Silver ’77

Having attended UW–Madison from 1958 to 1966, I often found myself in Rennebohm’s at Lake and State. But the day that will forever be imprinted in my memory is the Saturday afternoon in late May 1960 following a final exam in American history. Descending Bascom Hill, several of us headed immediately to Rennebohm’s for coffee and ice cream, there to discuss the final essay question on the test: “Discuss why members of the U.S. Senate opposed the Smoot-Hawley Tariff bill of 1929.” As we began our discussion, one fellow turned white and dropped his spoon. “Wait,” he cried, “are you sure the prof asked why members of the Senate opposed the legislation?” We nodded. “Oh my God!” he shouted. “I discussed why some in the Senate supported it.”

With that, he dashed out, shouting over his shoulder that he had to catch the professor and explain what happened. As it turned out, the professor found his essay worthy of consideration and gave him full credit. Our group passed the course with flying colors!

—Theodore J. Cohen ’60, MS’61, PhD’66

I worked at the Rennebohm lunch counter during my student days. On my usual late-afternoon and evening shifts, the atmosphere was always relaxed and cordial. While visiting with one of the pharmacists on his Bucky Burger break, I learned that he was my third cousin once removed. Badger football coach Milt Bruhn and Madison realtor and future Governor Pat Lucey were occasional customers. My grandparents, Chauncey and Mabel Wolferman, were church friends of Oscar Rennebohm, although I never met him.

Rennebohm treated their employees like family, and as lunch counter staff we were always allowed to consume as many grilled Danish, milkshakes, and anything else we wanted, without charge. Happy memories!

—Richard C. Haney, PhD ’70

I loved “Lunch at Rennenbohm Drug Store.” What a great flood of good memories! During my UW years, I was nearby as I lived at Lowell Hall when it opened as a dorm and then at 252 Langdon Street at the Sigma Delta Tau house. It was a frequent plan to say, “Let’s meet at Rennie’s for lunch.” It was always fun and delicious!

—Patty Eisberg Kaplan ’65

I remember my roomie and I going to the counter in early am to get 2 eggs and toast for 65 cents. Those were the days.

—Brian Weir ’79

Celina Vogt Current: “I remember presenting my first seriously melting banana split to an understanding customer with shaking hands.”

Wow, it was a flashback to see the picture of Rennebohm’s State Street store. I worked there between my junior and senior high school years in the summer of 1956. (I lived in Brooklyn and my girlfriend’s father knew Mr. Rennebohm.) Making Cokes with syrup and soda water and malted milks was a big step above babysitting for two 16-year-olds. On one Saturday morning, we were educated regarding the complexities of being a soda jerk. We were issued uniforms (see photo) and given a work location and a schedule. Little did I know what was coming. I became part of a community. We had our regular customers and really got to know people. It was influential in making me want to be a part of the university culture.

There were some uncomfortable moments. The manager of food services was a little scary, always frowning at us, and I remember presenting my first seriously melting banana split to an understanding customer with shaking hands. We used to joke that the statue representing “Forward,” on top of the capitol, was actually representing Mrs. Rennebohm pointing out the next location for a Rennebohm Drug Store. Happy days!

—Celinda Vogt Current ’61

I remember having a coffee at Rennebohm on State Street and seeing a picture in LIFE magazine of U.S. soldiers in body bags, piled up on a tank after the Tet Offensive in 1968. It is a sad and brutal memory that stays with me to this day.

—John Goodman ’69

Your article on Rennie’s was spot on! It was also one place that cashed student checks. You had to go to the back counter and weren’t required to purchase anything. The amount didn’t matter. For me, they cheerfully cashed my checks for $2, which could buy me eight small glasses of beer at the Pub! Money went a long way back in the day. Thanks for the memories.

—Stephen Halloway ’69

When my parents were dating and both attending UW Madison in 1956, my dad (Ronald Walz ’58) worked at Rennebohm on State and Lake while studying pharmacy. My mom drew a picture for their “Dating Days” scrapbook capturing my dad’s evening shift at the Rennebohm pharmacy counter.

My parents married in October of 1958 and settled in Milwaukee. My dad worked as a pharmacist for over 30 years. My dad would say his career in pharmacy began at Rennebohm!

—Susan Walz Berry ’83

I enjoyed your article on Rennebohm’s. The first I heard of Rennebohm’s was from my Ogg Hall house fellow telling us that it was really Mrs. Rennebohm atop the state capitol, pointing and saying, “Put another one over there!” And although I enjoyed a burger from Rennies, my main memory is a sad one. During my senior year we had a great party at our upper flat out on East Johnson. Most of our college friends were there, and I shot two rolls of film of everybody dancing and partying. I dropped the film off at Rennebohm’s, but when I returned to pick up the pictures it had disappeared, leaving the memories of that night to fade over time. So as an appeal to my classmates of that era, if you are holding on to a stack of pictures of people you don’t recognize, probably having a good time, reach out to me! I’d love them back!

—Gary Anderson ’79

One turbulent night in 1970, my friend John and I were out watching the antiwar demonstrations going on and found ourselves at the corner of Lake and State streets. Suddenly, a large group of demonstrators began throwing rocks. One hit me in the leg, and other rocks smashed the windows at Rennebohm’s. Police and demonstrators then appeared everywhere.

John and I ran up State Street and then down an alley. But the police must have thought we were part of the demonstrators and shot tear gas canisters at us in the narrow alley. I could barely see, and we ended up at a makeshift first aid station at the Hillel center.

We recovered, and a cute girl assured me I would not go blind. But Rennebohm’s never did recover. Ever since that night, the walls facing State and Lake were covered with concrete.

—Jim Hill ’71, MS’76

1. My mother worked at Rennebohm’s #1 (University Avenue across from what was then University Hospital) in the early 1950s. There she met a man. She thought he was the homeliest guy she’d ever seen. He thought she was the world’s worst waitress. So of course, they got married.
2. I worked at Rennebohm’s #10 — the one pictured in your article, at the corner of State and Lake — in the mid-1970s. There was a guy who came in regularly as a break from studying for his prelims. One day, when I was working the cash register in the cafeteria, he said to me, “Oh, it looks like you have something in your eye.” As he reached toward me, I closed my eyes and he stole a kiss. The next day when he came in, he asked if I’d liked it. I said yes. And about four years later, we got married.
3. A joke in my family went something like this: “Do you know who that is on top of the capitol building?” Most people would answer “Miss Forward.” We would then say, “No, that’s Mrs. Rennebohm, picking out the location for their next store.”

—Ruth (Witzeling) Flescher ’79

Interesting story about Rennebohm’s. I searched through some of my estate sale acquisitions from the past and saw that the regular menu had a daily supplement. It had to be typed up and actually dated for the day. Wow, what a buck could buy in 1946.

—Michael Kratochwill ’75, ’89

It was in 1960, with anticipation and trepidation, that I, a junior in the UW School of Pharmacy, reported for work at Rennebohm’s number one, Oscar’s first pharmacy at the corner of University and Randall. I knew that Rennie’s featured the Bucky Burger and grilled Danish as well as newspapers, cigars, and alarm clocks, but I didn’t know much else about retail pharmacy. That summer, I became an intern pharmacist, graduated in 1961, and became a registered pharmacist a short time later. I retired after 50 years standing behind the counters visiting with folks. Only good memories now remain of the corner pharmacy, its soda fountains, its remedies, and especially its customers.

—Ken Onsrud ’61

In the early 1960s, my girlfriend at the time worked as a cashier at Rennebohm. She moved from store to store as was needed. Familiar with the cost of many things, she noticed a significant price difference at the Rennebohm store nearest Sorority Row. Tampax, Kotex and other feminine products were priced higher at the store closest to the sorority girls. Rennebohm knew how to stick it to women.

—Ray Uhler ’63

Your article on Rennebohm Drug Store sure jogged my memory! The Pharm was a go-to place during my four years at Madison. In 1949 I had a lab mate who worked there, on the late shift. She mentioned to me that she was apprehensive going home alone at night, and that her boyfriend couldn’t walk her home as he worked a later job. I said she could call me and I would come over and walk her home. I lived in a fraternity on North Henry Street and was not too far away. She started calling me at the fraternity around 9:30 pm on our only phone, so whoever answered would yell my name and say, “Finke, some girl wants to talk to you!” I would get to the phone and tell her I was on my way. This went on for about two months, and then she said her boyfriend told her not to call me anymore!

And the lab course was ending. I never saw her again!

—Dick Finke ’52

Jeff Miller

Workers from the UW’s Physical Plant have restored the Bucky clock that now hangs on the building at 21 N. Park Street. Generations of Badgers will remember the clock hanging on a bank at 905 University Avenue, but when that building was demolished, the UW moved the clock to Park Street.

“It started in the midst of the pandemic, with people looking to find connections and a lot of that being done through online spaces,” says Safyr Barlow x’27, director of the Wisconsin Union Directorate (WUD) Games Committee.

The committee initially hosted events in online spaces, but students liked the game nights so much that when they returned to campus, they wanted to continue the events in person. Today the Sett — the term for a badger’s den — is a hub for student recreation at Union South.

Barlow says game nights are about more than friendly competition with peers — they’re about creating an inclusive environment, a space where anyone can try new games for free.

“There are a lot of barriers within the game space,” Barlow says. “The goal has always been to create a community where everyone is welcome, regardless of financial ability, regardless of skill level.”

With more than 100 options in its collection, WUD features video games, virtual reality games, and board games, with new additions arriving each month. The event is staffed with students ready to explain rules and guide groups along the way. Although attendance varies, some 50 students turn out for the event each week.

“You don’t have to know games, and you don’t have to have been in gaming spaces before. You don’t have to have friends that you’re coming with,” Barlow says. “It’s open to anyone who just wants to try a game out, or take a break, or just have fun.”

So as convenient as Walgreens may be, it will never fill the Rennie’s-sized hole in the hearts of UW alumni. Before being acquired by the national pharmacy chain in 1980, Rennebohm Drug Stores dotted seemingly every block of Madison, including the beloved campus location known as “The Pharm” on the corner of Lake and State.

Before being acquired by Walgreens in 1980, Rennebohm Drug Stores dotted seemingly every block of Madison. UW Archives

Owner Oscar Rennebohm 1911 was hailed as the textbook American success story. He grew up on a small farm in Leeds, Wisconsin, and purchased his first drugstore on University Avenue just a year after earning a pharmacy degree at the UW. The location largely served faculty and students. He turned that small-time operation into the largest chain in the city, with 15 stores by the 1950s and eventually double that (all under the Rexall franchise). Riding his reputation as a brilliant businessman, Rennebohm served as Wisconsin’s governor from 1947 to 1951.

Rennie’s, like many pharmacies of the era, doubled as a popular breakfast and lunch counter. In 1955, the soda fountains alone satisfied some 10,000 customers daily. The menu included a classic chili, ice cream concoctions, and freshy grilled foods — including the butter-dripped Danish dessert, the thought of which still makes long-ago customers drool.

In 1955, the Rennebohm soda fountains alone satisfied some 10,000 customers daily. UW Archives

The Rennebohm Drug Store name became so synonymous with the city that Walgreens kept it alongside its own for several years after the 1980 acquisition.

When the UW opened the Discovery Building on the spot of the first Rennebohm Drug Store in 2010, it paid tribute to the old pharmacy with a new Rennie’s Dairy Bar that served organic Babcock ice cream. But even that Rennie’s is no longer.

Still, the drugstore’s legacy lives on through the UW School of Pharmacy’s aptly named building: Rennebohm Hall. And the Oscar Rennebohm Foundation continues to support the university, including with an endowed scholarship for UW students — alas, sans lunch.

The original Rocky Rococo pizzeria opened in April 1974 on West Gilman Street, in a building as rectangular as its signature slice. Wisconsin Historical Society

A chapter of Madison history came to a close last December when Roger Brown, one of the founders of Rocky Rococo Pizza, sold his last restaurant. This wasn’t the pan-style pizza joint most Badgers will remember — it was on Madison’s Beltline highway. But it was a last tie to a pizza tradition that began at 411 W. Gilman, just off State Street.

You may be thinking, “I remember Rocky Rococo, and it wasn’t there. It was at …” Well, let your gluten relax a moment. The Rocky’s story is, if not rococo, certainly baroque.

In April 1974, Brown and his partner, Wayne Mosley, opened the first Rocky’s in the site of what had been Floyd Brown’s Restaurant (no relation to Roger). Rocky’s offered up three varieties of pizza — pepperoni, sausage, and mushroom — cut into rectangles and served in foil packets. (The iconic Rocky’s “This Box Rocks” cardboard container didn’t appear until 1976.) That fall, it won the Daily Cardinal’s annual pizza contest, knocking off such favorites as Gino’s, Gargano’s, and Pizza Pit. “Rocky Rococo’s victory was insured [sic] by a combination of a moist-deep crust and good spicing,” said the review.

The little pizza place slowly built toward success. In August 1975, it opened a second location at 651 State Street. Then came pizzerias in La Crosse, Minneapolis, and farther afield. By 1990, Rocky’s had 10 locations in Madison and dozens more around the country.

But pizza is a competitive business in Madison, and Rocky’s might have loaded a few too many pepperonis onto its slice of the market. By 2000, nine of those 10 locations had closed, including Gilman and State. Of course, three more had opened, the one nearest campus located at 1301 Regent Street. That location is now Fabiola’s Spaghetti House. The building that housed 651 State has been swallowed up by the sportswear shop Insignia. And since 2009, the West Gilman location has been home to Fugu Asian Fusion.

If you’re back in town and get a hankering for the Rocky’s deep dish you remember from your student days, don’t fear: Madison still has three locations, and they deliver.