Part I

Perhaps Nephi Georgi, who presented the David O. McKay lecture at Church College of Hawaii (CCH), later Brigham Young University-Hawaii (BYUH), in 1972, realized the difficulty of compiling a history of the McKay Lecture series, when, in 1982, he asserts in the foreword for a proposed edition of the first twenty lectures that "how started and how administered is of far less importance than what has been accomplished. Over the years not only student and faculty groups but also the general public have been permitted to participate in a grand tradition" (Foreword). Notwithstanding this seemingly cavalier approach to discussing the background of the series, Georgi himself provides a description of its beginning, recalling the "fall of 1962," when the School's Division of Arts and Sciences, at that time headed by himself, determined to establish an annual lecture series designed to further the purposes for which the college was established: expanding academic insight and teaching moral values on a universal stage. By its establishment a local platform was created from which, hopefully, new knowledge and vital issues could be discussed by a distinguished member of the Church College of Hawaii faculty, including key administrative personnel who had come through the faculty ranks. Furthermore, by approaching the subject matter with intellectual courage and vigor the designated faculty member would be extending a degree of success to the inspired leadership of David O. McKay, then President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, under whose hand the college came into being. (Foreword)

For a small college, isolated in a remote rural area of Hawaii, sponsored by a Church little known beyond the intermountain West, attended by fewer than a thousand students, and severely curtailed in resources and personnel, to commence such a momentous annual project was at the very least extremely ambitious; no doubt, many faculty members and students, not to mention others not directly connected with CCH at the time, considered the idea downright foolhardy. After all, the College in 1962 was barely seven years old, and for the first few of those it had not even been a four-year institution. But as in so many aspects of the School in those early days, Georgi and other astute faculty members fortunately paid little heed to how the world viewed CCH, proceeding, instead, to mount what they almost instantly began calling the David O. McKay Lecture series. By the end of the 1961-1962 academic year, the series, which would not officially start until several months hence, had become so firmly entrenched in the College's collective mind that Professor Richard T. Wootton, then serving as the School's second president, could sanguinely refer, in his "President's Report," delivered annually at commencement exercises, to the lecture as a salient accomplishment of the year just completed: "The Arts and Sciences Division also inaugurated an annual Founder's Day week lecture to be known as the David O. McKay Lecture; a selected faculty member each year will present a paper" (3).

Fittingly, Wootton himself accepted an invitation to present what the title page of the printed version of his ensuing lecture confidently labels, "the first David O. McKay Lecture." Delivered on 19 February 1963, Wootton's lecture enjoyed appropriate publicity in campus periodicals. An article in the School's newspaper, Ke Alaka'i on February 7, 1963, notes that the "first annual David O. McKay Lecture" would "be held. . . in connection with the college's 'Founder's Week,'" a tradition which has continued, for the most part, in the thirty years since the series began ("First Lecture-Defense" 1).

On the actual day of the lecture, the CCH Daily Bulletin quoted an official statement from the minutes of a meeting of the College's Curriculum Committee, held during Founder's Week the previous year, which explains the purposes of the series as envisioned by Georgi: it was designed to give "a distinguished member of the faculty the opportunity to discuss before the college community and the public vital issues, new knowledge and/or results of personal research in his field of study" ("First"; "Annual"). Though not politically correct by later standards, this statement of purpose conforms to Georgi's own hopes for the series as stated in his introduction written for the publication of Wootton's lecture, on 1 October 1963, a little over seven months after its delivery:

The annual David O. McKay lecture series was established to serve a purpose.

First, by its establishment a local platform was created from which knowledge, important subjects and vital issues could be discussed by a distinguished member of The Church College of Hawaii faculty.

Second, by approaching his subject matter with intellectual courage and vigor the designated faculty would be extending a degree of respect to the inspired leadership of Pres. David O. McKay under whose hand this institution came into being.

The originators of the project could desire nothing more than that this series will assist in developing and helping to maintain a desirable public image for the college. (Introduction)

Like the lecture's annual delivery date during Founder's Week, then, its purpose has also remained a tradition of the series, appearing in a variety of forms on all subsequent programs and in the published versions of selected lectures.

Student writer Mary Bonner, in an article in the Ke Alaka'i, dated 21 February 1963, two days after Wootton's lecture, suggests yet another tradition associated with the series, observing that "Dr. Wootton was asked to be the speaker by the sponsoring Division of Arts and Sciences because he was one of the first faculty members at the Church College" (1). While not every subsequent lecturer has been an original faculty member, nor always a faculty member who has taught here for a considerable time, one goal in selecting lecturers over the years seems to have been to honor faculty members whose association with the School has been extensive. Of the nineteen original faculty members of CCH, seven eventually delivered lectures, including, besides Wootton, Billie Hollingshead in 1964, Jerry Loveland in 1967, Georgi, Wylie Swapp in 1980, Joe Spurrier in 1982, and Pat Dalton in 1983. Ken Baldridge, who accepted a position in history at the College in 1969, delivering his own McKay lecture in 1984, fifteen years later, recently recalled, "when I gave mine, only one lecturer, Jay Fox, had joined the faculty since I had," again confirming the links among longevity, service, and selection.

The minutes of the meeting which initially developed the McKay lecture reveal another aspect of the series. The Curriculum Committee

expected that the ideas presented will warrant further analysis after the original presentation, thus on a designated (pre-arranged) night, not to come later than a week following the lecture, the speaker will defend his contentions before a panel of faculty members and an open forum of the college community and the public. ("Annual")

In addition, the committee encouraged the speaker to "advance any ideas which he can support with facts and logic, no matter how controversial" ("Annual"). Thus, immediately following Wootton's address, according to Thomas Tyler who reviewed the lecture's contents for the campus newspaper, "members of the faculty participated in a panel discussion where Dr. Wootton was challenged to substantiate points of his presentation" (1). Armed in advance with copies of his lecture, panelists, says a secondary headline, "attack[ed]" Wootton's speech by posing formal questions to which Wootton responded both instantly and extemporaneously (Tyler 2). Apparently, the designers of the series envisioned lectures which would stimulate campus enquiry: earlier, the Ke Alaka'i notes that Wootton's would be the first of a series of "lecture-confrontations. . . [u]nder the ground rules" of which "Wootton will be called upon to defend his. . . contentions before a panel of faculty members and an open forum of the college community and the public" ("First Lecture-Defense" 1, 4), while Tyler summarizes the actual questions asked in Wootton's "Lecture-Defense" (Tyler 1-2; "First Lecture-Defense" 1).

Although the concept of the lecture as one feature of a campus encounter lapsed after that first year, save for a "panel discussion" of David Miles's lecture in 1970 ("[Item] 2." Church 9 February 1970), and a "colloquy for all interested faculty and students in the faculty lounge" following Wayne Allison's 1971 lecture ("[Item] 2." Daily 22 February 1971), the Faculty Advisory Committee partially revived this component in 1988, when Lance Chase delivered his lecture, by adding an afternoon discussion and review by a panel of faculty members who had studied the lecture in advance. Now an integral part of the day's festivities, these discussions are open to anyone; as with Wootton's "defense," the lecturer answers questions submitted by panelists and audience alike, thereby not only extending both the ideas of the lecture and the spirit of its continuity beyond the physical confines of the presentation itself but also approaching the intellectual ideals which Georgi visualized.

The date of the actual event and the selection of lecturers also figure prominently in the tradition of the series. As "sponsors" of the lecture, the Division of Arts and Sciences initially formed a special ad hoc committee to select the annual lecturer ("Annual"). Composed of the Head of the Division who would serve as chair, the College president and dean of instruction as ex officiomembers, four faculty representatives--one each from humanities and fine arts, biological sciences, social sciences, and physical sciences--and one representative chosen from the faculty at large, this committee was cautioned that "the choice of the lecturer will be made no later than6 months prior to the lecture" ("Annual"). Dates of subsequent lectures, such as Georgi's own on 2 May 1972 and that by Delwyn Berrett on 4 April 1974, indicate that the faculty, sporadically neglecting its charge, occasionally resorted to an apparently hasty mounting of the lecture for a particular year. Generally, however, lectures have occurred in timely fashion: twenty-six in February, with most of these presented as near to Founder's Day, 12 February, as possible, two, those delivered by Kay Andersen in 1968 and Alice Pack in 1977, in March, Berrett's in April, and Georgi's in May.

As for the selection process, the tidy, pleasing concept of an ad hoc committee as originally established by the founders, constituted anew each year, did not long continue. In the Daily Bulletin on 12 February 1971, Baldridge, then a relatively new faculty member, solicited potential nominees for the next lecturer, whose name would be announced only a few days later at the conclusion of Allison's address:

On February 23, Dr. Wayne Allison will deliver the David O. McKay Lecture for 1971. At that time we hope to announce the speaker for 1972. Would you please help in the selection by listing one or two members of our faculty that you would most like to have speak for that occasion[?] Please return your list. . . by Wednesday, February 17. ("[Item] 1." Daily 12 February 1971).

While this request appears rather informal, it at least allowed more time for faculty rumination than the two days allotted to respond to a form seeking similar information, which the Faculty Nominating Committee distributed to the faculty on 4 February 1970:

It will be necessary, during the next week, for the Faculty Nominating Committee to choose, with your help, the speaker for the 1971 David O. McKay Lecture. Please assist us by listing your choice or choices of speakers for that occasion. As you know Dr. David MIles will be giving the lecture during Founders [sic] Week this year.

Some recent past speakers have been: Ross Allen, Polynesian [actually British] Educational Systems; Dr. Jerry Loveland, Polynesian Political Systems; Dr. Alonzo Morley, Speech Concepts; Dr. Robert Craig, Early Christian History; and others.

This annual lecture series is aimed at giving a distinguished member of the faculty the opportunity to discuss before the college community and the public, vital issues, new knowledge, and/or results of personal research in his field of study. These individual lectures are to be the product of intellectual activity and scientific investigation.

You may know of research or other efforts being accomplished by one of your colleagues that should be known by the larger community. Please list your preference or preferences for 1971 and return. . . by Friday, February 6, if possible. (Hal H. Hunter to CCH Faculty, 4 February 1970)

In an effort to stabilize the selection process, in recent years consideration and selection of lecturers have rightly become the purview of the Faculty Advisory Committee (FAC), which now chooses the next lecturer from nominations submitted by faculty members on an appropriate form which supplies extensive information regarding each nominee's record of scholarly presentations and publications, campus and community service, and professional accomplishments and contributions. Its selection made, the FAC reveals the name of the next presenter at the end of the assembly honoring the current lecturer. Thus, while selection procedures have altered in detail since the inception of the series, they have not changed in intent. Having received ample notification, lecturers are expected to use the succeeding year wisely in preparing addresses commensurate with the recognition extended them by their colleagues.

In retrospect, Georgi and his committee established important precedents for the David O. McKay Lecture. Linking it to Founder's Day has, for thirty years, both reminded the campus of its debt to that eminent churchman and recalled his own abiding interest in education; designing a lofty purpose has extracted from most lecturers their best work; seeking to honor "distinguished" faculty members has in general prevented the selection of a lecturer from being taken for granted--one earns the right to be chosen by one's service to the College and one's scholarly endeavor; attempting to involve all sectors of the University has fostered a genuine climate of intellectual escalation, making this an eagerly anticipated annual event; requiring fellow faculty members to choose lecturers well in advance of their presentations has impressed upon both lecturers and the University community the significance of the honor and respect that choice represents.

Of course, the lecture's founders could not have known the importance the series would eventually acquire on campus; that it even continue was at one point seriously debated. On 11 February 1964, the very day of the second lecture, the Faculty Association Executive Committee discussed discontinuing the series because of the prohibitive costs involved in printing Wootton's address (Minutes). This possibly explains why publication of lectures has been sporadic: despite a directive from the founders of the series that "both the lecture. . . and pertinent points of the critique. . . be appropriately published," after the appearance of Wootton's address in printed form, no other lecture saw publication until Loveland's, four years later ("Annual"); of the first ten lectures only half were published, and of the thirty given thus far, eleven still remain unpublished, including that by Jim Smith, delivered in 1990, only three years ago.

Nor could Georgi's committee have foreseen other trends in the series. In keeping with the idea of "Liberal Arts and the Gospel," which the committee loosely designated as the sub-title of the series, even though lecturers have represented most academic disciplines, language arts and social sciences have dominated with nine from the Division of Language, Literature and Communications (or its previous appellations) and seven from the Social Science Division. Five lecturers have been scientists, three each have come from fine arts and education, and the final three from counseling, religion, and business. Only three women have delivered lectures: Hollingshead, Pack, and Jayne Garside in 1978, one of whom, Pack, is also the only lecturer thus far who graduated from CCH/BYUH. Eleven former lecturers remain current full-time faculty members here, while ten others transferred from CCH or BYUH to other colleges and universities before they retired. Four lecturers, Hollingshead, Allison, Georgi, and Jayne Garside, have died; the oldest living lecturer, Alonzo Morley who spoke in 1966, is past ninety. The earliest lecture by a full-time faculty member who is still on campus is that by Eric Shumway, given in 1975, although Swapp and Spurrier, both of whom retired here, continue to be actively involved in campus life. Only two lecturers, Loveland and Lynn Henrichsen, who spoke in 1986, had not completed terminal degrees in their fields when they presented their lectures, but both received their doctorates within a year.

Georgi and his colleagues might also have been surprised at the startling variance in lecture lengths. Wootton's lecture, at 5800 words, falls just shy of the average of 6200 words, thereby, as in other ways, setting a pattern for his successors. The longest lecture, in the form in which it was originally delivered, appears to be Berrett's, which ran to nearly 8500 words, suggesting that the time period set aside for the lectures then was somewhat longer than the forty-five minutes now allotted. In a few cases, lectures experienced considerable accretion through publication, most notably Henrichsen's, which contains over ten thousand words, far more than he actually delivered, and the 1992 lecture by Max Stanton, consisting of nearly fourteen thousand words, approximately double the size of his original presentation. Miles, the first scientist to be honored, also gave the shortest lecture--a mere 2600 words--followed by Dean Andersen's in 1981, only a hundred words longer. Other lectures breaking seven thousand words include those by Hollingshead, Shumway, Jayne Garside, Baldridge, Jim Bradshaw in 1987, Chase, and myself in 1991.

Publicity for the series has also varied since it began. Although several articles in the Ke Alaka'iand the CCH Daily Bulletin both herald and report Wootton's lecture, only a single brief piece, "Dr. Hollingshead to Give Lecture," which appeared in the campus newspaper on 16 January 1964, nearly a month before the lecture's actual delivery, mentions Hollingshead's forthcoming address (2), although the Bulletin carried a "Special Note on Tuesday's Assembly" in the issues for both 10 and 11 February 1964. For the next several years, since the University evidently treated the lecture either as one of many regular assemblies or, more commonly, as simply a devotional, campus publications responded accordingly. For example, no notice of that year's lecture occurs in the Daily Bulletin during 1966, 1973-1975, and 1977, and the Bulletin in 1976, 1980, 1982, and 1984, mentions it as only one of several noteworthy calendar items or campus events. On 6 February 1967, the Daily Bulletin announced this rather embarrassing plea to the faculty: "The Faculty Association is responsible for the David O. McKay lecture on February 7, 1967. Would you be responsible for the publicity for this assemble?" ("[Item] 1." Daily 6 February 1967). Similarly, for the first decade of the series the Ke Alaka'i rarely devoted more than one article to the lecture. Usually appearing in the issue immediately preceding a given lecture, these articles customarily present a succinct overview of the projected topic along with basic biographical particulars concerning the presenter. Eventually, this situation changed markedly, as the lecture steadily regained its central importance in campus academics. By 1972, as evidenced by the article, "'Love' says Georgi in devotional," attention by the Ke Alaka'i had attained respectable proportions once again, although as late as 1977 Pack's lecture shared triple billing in the week's campus highlights: "Elvis, Renowned Linguist, and Filipino Assembly" (2). The past ten years have witnessed a consistently laudable level of publicity: at least two, and sometimes as many as fiveKe Alaka'i articles, with comparable coverage in the Campus Bulletin, have searchingly previewed and extensively reviewed each lecture and the faculty panel which has followed it.

Past lectures have incorporated paintings, slides, transparencies, charts, other forms of illustrations, including in one case a shopping bag full of musical scores, recorded oral histories, musical recordings, taped oral histories, and even a choir. They have treated a wide range of subjects, relying upon an astonishing variety of sources. Some have concentrated on Polynesia or other topical concerns, while others have made the world, even the universe, their province. Withal, each has remained unique, despite unavoidable similarities to other lectures.

Part II

A brief scrutiny of the success of lectures in accomplishing the stated purposes of the series provides a suitable context for an examination of some of these similarities. Just as the founders of the David O. McKay Lecture painstakingly formulated its original purposes, carefully delineating its dual objectives in what has subsequently been designated simply as the lecture's "charge," so have lecturers, on the whole, seriously accepted that charge as a fairly defined directive, a conclusion more readily observable with regard to the second objective--to honor President McKay himself "by approaching [one's] subject matter with intellectual courage and vigor"--than to the first (Georgi Introduction). Accordingly, references to the prophet in lectures have abounded over the years. The first of these occurs in Loveland's 1967 lecture, the third sentence of which reads, "I dedicate this lecture to the man whose name it bears: a man whom I honor as a true prophet." The next year, Kay Andersen echoes Loveland's sentiment, when he alludes to President McKay as "one of the world's truly great educators," observing that previous lecturers had "successfully met the lecture criteria," a goal he wished to emulate; similarly, in 1969, Bob Craig notes that he utilized "the tone and spirit. . . of the David O. McKay lecture series" to assist him in selecting a topic appropriate for his lecture. Georgi's homage to the prophet in 1972 was not only predictable but also more encompassing than that paid by his predecessors; indeed, Georgi's desire to honor President McKay takes precedence over his hope that he will not forsake an established tradition of scholarship:

May this year not prove to have been a disservice to those preceding efforts. But especially may it serve well the memory of President David O. McKay, whose love for his fellow man knew no bounds, whose dedication to the Gospel was total, and who recognition of the vital need for education brought this college, thus this occasion, to be.

But the McKay lecture series has exacted other forms of proffered tribute to its namesake than passing comments delivered in a public forum. Shumway, for instance, grounds his 1975 lecture, which he terms "a confession of gratitude," in President McKay's essay on Robert Burns, included in his collection Treasures of Life (1965), which contains the prophet's own "confession of gratitude" for the literary acumen of the immortal Scot, while Pack expresses fervent appreciation for President McKay in 1977, nostalgically, reverently, eulogistically recalling how a childhood encounter with him culminated in her fascination with language, the subject of her fascinating discourse:

the outstanding thing about this conference visitor was not his physical appearance--commanding as it was--but his way with language--his oratory, his choice of words and syntax, his use of metaphor and simile--his skillful use of all the rhetorical devices of English. He was a master of language. . . . I felt a kinship with my own interest in words--the core of language, and Fox in 1979 eloquently articulates an ardent aspiration that his lecture will suitably convey his own vivid memories of a prophet who to me was an almost mythic hero who caught my heart and my imagination at an early age and who only became a real person one day when on Temple Square I shook his hand. The strength and firmness in that handshake--obviously from one who was not a stranger to manual labor--wedded the man and the ideal in my mind. I hope that what I say today will in some modest way pay tribute to him.

Two other lecturers, Swapp in 1980 and Henrichsen in 1986, acknowledged their debt to President McKay not so much by praising either the man or his lasting influence on them as by indicating in celebratory fashion how the prophet's ideas or his profession ultimately resulted in the presentations they produced. Using as a point of departure President McKay's famous observation in Pathways to Happiness (1957) regarding the need to employ alternate means to describe primal human emotions when mere language fails, Swapp states that he intended in his lecture "to build on the thoughts expressed by Pres. McKay," substituting "visual representation" for words to "mirror" mankind's beliefs and faith. Likewise, Henrichsen, imbued with the twin "honor" and "responsibility" entailed in "giving [a] lecture" in the McKay series, confidently affirms that, as an "educator" himself, the prophet would doubtless "have had a particular interest" in Henrichsen's ensuing discussion of various principles of "a Latter-day Saint philosophy of higher education."

Thus, many lecturers either through direct recollections of or by a variety of other references to President McKay have commendably "extend[ed]" him "a degree of respect," successfully discharging the second injunction of the series' founders (Georgi Introduction). Even those who omit mentioning the prophet overtly in their addresses nonetheless indirectly ennoble his name, his profession, his ecclesiastical eminence, and his visionary link with the University through their obvious sense of the esteem their peers hold for them, as indicated by their selection as annual lecturers.

The success of lectures in achieving the first purpose of the charge, on the other hand, is more difficult to assess, for determining whether the series has indeed become "a local platform from which knowledge, important subjects and vital issues could be discussed" poses inherent difficulties (Georgi Introduction). In the first place, the lectures, both as delivered and in their more formal versions as finished products, manifest a continuing insecurity on the part of their presenters concerning the precise nature of their addresses. As Dale Robertson, a long-time faculty member at BYU-Hawaii in political science, once remarked, the lecturers have evidently subscribed to one of two traditions: either they have conceived of their task as a presentation of a body of research--that is, a work in progress--or they have envisioned their lecture as not only a thoughtful but also a thought-provoking essay, complete in itself. This being the case, how a lecturer views his or her assignment unquestionably affects all aspects of the resultant lecture. Treating it as an essay provides several avenues for personal rumination which a display of research, no matter how competent, cannot afford. By the same token, lectures falling into the latter category might not require the typically strong opinions pronounced in such essays as Thomas's, Shumway's, and Fox's, given in 1973, 1975, and 1979, respectively. The character of a given lecture also inevitably influences the reaction of an audience to it. A lecture which imparts research findings, such as Craig's exhaustive overview of early Christian history in 1969, regardless of how well delivered or elegantly framed it may be, may very well not challenge its audience, its readership, as readily as Kay Andersen's speculative predictions in 1968 regarding possible growth and changes of the then Church College of Hawaii fifteen years hence. Similarly, the various aspects of deity which Wootton posits in his provocative essay naturally elicit more heated response than does Baldridge's 1984 collection of oral histories, poignant though they are. Inescapably, then, some lectures have surely furnished fora for discussions of "vital issues," but may not have presented any new "knowledge," while others, prodigiously filled with information, have possibly not treated the "important subjects" Georgi contemplated.

A second problem associated with the question of whether the series has adequately fulfilled its initial purpose is further related, albeit tangentially, to the nature of individual lectures, for a few have been neither essays nor research in progress; instead, they represent highly personal reflections on attitudes or ideas of consuming interest primarily to the lecturers themselves, and only secondarily to those who hear or read them. For example, Jayne Garside in 1976 ranges through her moving experiences with emotionally troubled college students to construct a rather private but nonetheless compelling apologia pro vita sua; her husband, LaMoyne Garside, two years earlier, in a lecture subtitled "A Personal Statement" records quite lyrically his reactions to Japanese art; and in 1960 Miles proposes a unique view of Joseph Smith as a scientist, one which few may accept, despite its piquant flavor. These lectures certainly meet some of the criteria embodied in the first purpose of the series, as enunciated by Georgi, but do they effectively demonstrate all of them?

A third dilemma arising from a consideration of how well lectures have executed this purpose concerns evaluating the success of those which do not represent their presenters' dominant disciplines. Thus, the lecture given in 1985 by Chen, a political scientist, not only deals with the perennially controversial question of evolution but also supports its essentially anti-evolutionary conclusions with several sources which neither subscribe to acceptable scientific judgments nor conform to approved doctrinal pronouncements. Understandably, his lecture disturbed campus biologists and historians; less predictably, it also disquieted armchair theologians. Dalton uses his 1983 lecture as an occasion to evince tenets of his educational credo, laced liberally with grievances against students and colleagues alike, nursed over a lifetime of teaching, rather than electing to treat a topic in biology, a subject he had taught at the University for nearly thirty years. Even Henrichsen's lecture in 1986 on Mormon educational philosophy, intrinsically interesting though it is, does not reflect his considerable ability in TESOL and linguistics, in both of which he is considered a foremost expert. Of course, lectures on ostensibly inappropriate topics, given the experiences of certain presenters, are not necessarily bad. Henrichsen's, in particular, assembles a significant corpus of little known material pertaining to arcane educational decrees by Church authorities. Still, lecturers who stray too far afield from what they know best perforce endanger the ultimate acceptance of their work.

Finally, a series as serious in intent as the McKay Lecture was designed to be must decide if it can allow humor. In retrospect, what the founders of the series thought on this head intrigues one: if they assumed lecturers would eschew the comic, then how should one regard the products of those who include it; on the other hand, if they expected that, in the nature of public discourse, elements of humor would ineluctably infiltrate certain lectures, are those containing no discernible humor--a majority, by the way--somehow incomplete, inadequate, uninteresting? Happily unaware of possible consequences of their decision, a few lecturers opted to employ humor in their addresses, notwithstanding their recognition of the signal honor bestowed on them by the University. In the very first lecture, Wootton observes, "I have not concerned myself primarily with whether the subject would interest everyone. I know from hard experience as a college president that one cannot please everybody, and have chosen a subject that appeals to me. There is no use in all of us being bored." Speaking on the topic of "The Doctrine of the Devil in Literature" in 1972, Thomas begins by noting, "there may be some here today who suppose that literature itself is a doctrine of the devil." Pack incorporates several linguistic jokes in her address in 1977; Smith, quoting a verse from Mosiah in which King Benjamin records that his spirit will join the heavenly choirs at his death, in 1990 concludes that "some. . . may be unemployed in the hereafter, but I, apparently, will have a job. And no one sings flat in the choirs above"; and in my own lecture in 1991 I report my wife's comment during my period of feverish preparation: "A good lecture is like a good recipe: if you leave out any ingredients, you get an inedible product, but if you put in too many, you sound like a fruitcake."

Fortunately, very few lecturers have sounded like "fruitcakes."

Conversely, the work of several discloses their diligent efforts to disseminate new "knowledge" in keeping with Georgi's stated parameters. In 1965, for instance, Ross Allen's "American's impression" of schools in Great Britain explores the territory of England's pre-university educational system, described by many renowned American educators as manifestly better than this country's, and cogently finds that, in reality, many cracks disfigure an outwardly superior British facade; Dean Andersen in 1981 plows the plenteous fields of ecology well before most scientific husbandmen had realized the fashionable harvests that crop would eventually produce; mining the rich depths of "time, space, and infinity," Jack Johnson's 1989 lecture discovers an intellectual lode of astrophysical ore which in turn yields considerable deposits for further investigative refinement by his audience; and Spurrier in 1982 weaves the seemingly disparate threads of Hawaiian culture and Mormon institutions, creating one cloth out of two, a seamless fabric altogether new.

At this point, the McKay lecture series seems healthy and vibrant, if not waxing stronger each year, at least not waning either. While it may not have attained the far-reaching repercussions which Georgi and others initially conceived, it has definitely enriched the academic ambiance of the University. Certainly, it demonstrably manifests that lecturers have realized the two purposes encompassed in the charge given them: the series assuredly acts as a "platform" for searching inquiry and reflection, while concurrently honoring the University's founder. Certainly, as well, it eagerly anticipates at least another thirty years of stimulating colloquy in exploring the life of the mind at BYU-Hawaii. Naturally, not all of the first thirty lectures have been flawless, for serious faults mar several. Taken as a whole, however, they comprise a remarkable assemblage, which infinitely repays the time one devotes to them.

Part III

Never a facile endeavor, often fraught with unexpected obstacles, the editing process for the McKay lectures, originally conceived as a fairly perfunctory task, encountered more than its share of complications, of which obtaining primary texts to employ as copy-texts upon which to buttress subsequent textual decisions, in accordance with approved editorial principles and practices, readily proved the most challenging. Those lectures existing in typescript simplified in most instances, even eliminated in a few, the customary intricacies of editing by providing solid, authorially reliable states of their respective texts which in turn necessitated minimal, usually cosmetic, surgery. Unfortunately, but fifteen of the McKay lectures thus far delivered, or precisely half, enjoy this fortuitous state, while the other fifteen now exist only in their published versions, perforce mandating those textual states as copy-texts, and thereby effectively precluding any substantive comparison between manuscript, or which none survive, or typescript on the one hand and printed text on the other. Consequently, textual cruces discovered in these fifteen published lectures, such as errors in spelling, mistakes in grammar, lapses in mechanics, or, even worse, various blunders in printing itself, could not be expediently solved by consulting the typescripts, that version of the text closest to its author's original intent; rather, each required an individual decision based upon what seemed the most "likely" reading, that is, determining in each instance whether the mistake was the lecturer's or had been introduced at some point during the lengthy and tortuous stages of proofing and printing. As more complex errors involved ever more convoluted "correction" or alterations, each change performed in a textual vacuum with no opportunity for authorial verification, refinement, or approval, the need to develop consistent editorial standards in order to obviate the inevitable whimsicalities to which such a highly subjective and indiscriminately powerful editorial system, left unrestrained, could doubtless lead, became obvious. Much of what follows constitutes the result of this need.

First, typographical errors which, regardless of assiduous care, endlessly and unavoidably proliferate in the complex process of transcribing passages from quotations found in original sources to manuscripts, transforming resultant drafts, including paraphrases, to typescripts, reducing these nearly final states of texts to formal lectures, and, for half of the lectures, converting oral addresses to printed publications have been silently emended. As previously noted, where possible, typescripts have served as copy-texts; for the addresses by Miles and Swapp, for both of which two similar but distinct typescripts survive, a thorough comparison of both typescripts for each lecture preceded any textual emendations, while in the case of those lectures for which no typescript now obtains, scrupulous attention to the published versions accompanied their editing. Hollingshead's lecture, which exists neither in typescript nor printed form, caused a further editorial dilemma; a meticulous transcription of her remarks from an out-dated reel-to-reel audiotape which surfaced in the collections of the University's archives fortunately solved this difficulty, while simultaneously introducing other problems inherent in such transcriptions, such as her unique inflections, her pronunciational caprices, and certain recording distortions.

A second procedure adopted for this edition concerns the practice, used sparingly, of introducing additional punctuation or alterations in format either to clarify obscure passages in lectures or to bring them into conformity with the demands of present usage. Hence, in all series both a comma and the conjunction "and," rather than the conjunction alone, precede the final term in the list; direct references to the Church (as a specific ecclesiastical entity), the Gospel (as a systematized pattern of beliefs), and the University (or the School or the College as a denomination of BYU-Hawaii in particular) have been consistently capitalized; and in lectures featuring subtitles for individual sections, spacing and capitalization of the subtitles have been standardized.

Conversely, because the decision to reproduce lectures as faithfully as practicable seemed a sound one, the edited versions here presented retain inconsequential quirks in punctuation which do not impair meaning, as well as minor grammatical errors such as lack of agreement between subjects and verbs when prepositional phrases or other sentence interrupters intervene. Similarly, where such lapses in either grammar or style do not engender questionable understanding, they remain both to reflect probable stylistic idiosyncrasies of individual lecturers and to avoid the ubiquitous use of "[sic]" or other cumbersome editorial excusers. Since the lectures were, after all, initially spoken and often left completely unrevised in typescript or for publication, efforts to capture the flavor of oral performances appeared desirable--see Bradshaw's address as a useful illustration of the lecture which remains in its essentially oral form.

This volume also recovers all original titles which through time's negligent vagaries had disappeared or undergone partial changes. For example, for years in the table of "Previous Lectures" printed on the last page of the programs which accompany the delivery of annual lectures, Allen's title from his 1965 lecture has appeared as "A Comparison of British and American Systems of Education" instead of the more revealing "British Schools: An American's Impression," the caption he himself applied to his remarks which actually treat American schools only peripherally, at best. Miles's title in 1970, "Joseph Smith, Science and Religion," was altered not once, but thrice, to "Joseph Smith as a Scientist," an echo of a work by John A. Widtsoe which Miles relies on in his lecture, "Joseph Smith Was a Scientist," and "Joseph Smith Is a Scientist," the latter pair suggesting conclusions which Miles does not draw. This edition likewise restores Spurrier's 1982 title, "The Gospel and the 'Ohana," from "The Gospel and the O'hana," the final word of which does not exist in Hawaiian. Further, this edition retrieves yet another group of titles, those containing quotations which had lost the marks so identifying them.

Titles of other works have received consistent treatment as well, including the use of italics for references to all novels, long poems, plays, critical works, other separate publications, works of art, and musical compositions commonly deemed "classic," regardless of the way in which lecturers originally referred to these works, and the employment of quotations marks for titles of shorter literary works and less imposing music.

This edition also employs the bibliographical style approved by the Modern Language Association (MLA) which indicates sources used through in-text citation of authors' last names and page numbers of primary and secondary materials for quotations, paraphrases, and other references; it additionally specifies that all sources mentioned in a given piece be included in a list of "Works Cited" at the end of each individual essay. Bringing lectures written over the span of thirty years into uniform compliance with these bibliographic procedures obviously entailed considerable time and effort but in retrospect seems worth what was expended: even though not all disciplines employ the MLA style, it does possess the not inconsiderable virtues of eliminating footnotes and antiquated Latin abbreviations, of channelling a reader's attention directly to sources at the moment of citation, and of forestalling the need to duplicate information already contained in footnotes in a formal bibliography appended after an essay's conclusion. On the other hand, since the MLA style does allow the inclusion of explanatory endnotes, as needed, this edition retains all original endnotes written by the lecturers themselves. A few editorial notes, necessary to elucidate meaning, such as the compilations of esoteric medieval legends to which Swapp refers, to explain an unusual aspect of a lecture, such as Hollingshead's use of Hebrew words and phrases, or to supply information regarding a persistently vague source, such as those still not located in certain lectures, have also been added, preceded in each case by the abbreviation, "Ed. Note." Two other abbreviations, used in parenthetical citations, should also be noted: standard scriptural abbeviations denote references to the Standard Works, while JD abbreviates the Journal of Discourses (1855-1886), accompanied by the appropriate volume and page numbers.

Aside from the necessary impediments posed by the lack of typescripts for all lectures and the extensive complexities confronted in formulating editorial principles, a final vexation in editing these lectures centers on documentation, a two-pronged process, involving both verifying sources cited by lecturers and locating additional sources for lectures which are either underdocumented or, in the case of several, never possessed sources in the first place. Certifying the accuracy, as far as possible, of every reference in each lecture accomplished the former operation; those proving incorrect for whatever reason have received appropriate adjustments. The latter procedure called for the addition of new sources for almost every lecture to supplement existing documentation; while most lectures needed only a few, sometimes but one, such sources to handle material actually quoted, paraphrased, or otherwise mentioned without proper acknowledgment, a few, notably Wootton's, Hollingshead's, Allen's, Morley's, Miles's, Berrett's, and Jayne Garside's, demanded the creation of a full-fledged bibliography, not a simple task since these lectures often failed to furnish enough information in their texts to locate the sources originally used. Usually, the newly added sources represent primary or secondary works which lecturers could conceivably have used when compiling their addresses; when the only corroborating information now available post-dates a given lecture, suitable editorial notes so indicate. Despite the exacting attention paid to updating citations, some readers may yet judge the lectures inadequately documented, a situation which only the overriding desire to offer them in a consistent format, one as near to their initial presentations as is expedient at the present time, may excuse.

The work of editors inevitably makes both friends and enemies: it may also make cowards, not of us all, but of editors themselves, who may elect never again to confront an editorial project. Once completed, however, such projects reward their editors a final time as they have done with their consuming enterprises at long last; if done well, these textual gambits may even satisfy their readers as they first view the laborious result of editorial exertion.

Works Cited

"Annual David O. McKay Lecture." [Minutes of the Curriculum Committee.] Reuben D. Law Papers, Archives, Brigham Young University--Hawaii.

Baldridge, Kenneth W. Personal interview. 21 January 1993.

Bonner, Mary. "President Wootton Delivers David O. McKay Address In Tuesday's Assembly." Ke Alaka'i 21 February 1963: 1-2.

"Dr. Hollingshead to Give Lecture." Ke Alaka'i 16 January 1964: 2.

"Elvis, Renowned Linguist and Filipino Assembly." Ke Alaka'i 18 March 1977: 2.

"First Lecture-Defense Set at CCH Feb. 19." Ke Alaka'i 7 February 1963: 1, 4.

"First of An Annual Event." CCH Daily Bulletin 19 February 1963: n. pag.

Georgi, Nephi. Foreword, ts. July, 1982. N. pag.

---. Introduction. Thoughts on the Nature and Reality of God. By Richard T. Wootton. Laie: Church College of Hawaii, 1963. N. pag.

Hunter, Hal H. [Memo to Faculty]. 4 February 1970. Daily Bulletin File, Archives, Brigham Young University--Hawaii.

"[Item] 1." Daily Bulletin 1 February 1967: n. pag.

"[Item] 1." Daily Bulletin 12 February 1971: n. pag.

"[Item] 2." The Church College of Hawaii Daily Bulletin 9 February 1970: n. pag.

"[Item] 2." Daily Bulletin 22 February 1971: n. pag.

"'Love' says Georgi in devotional." Ke Alaka'i 5 May 1972: 1-2.

McKay, David O. Pathways to Happiness. Comp. Llewelyn R. McKay. Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1957.

---. Treasures of Life. Salt Lake City: Deseret, 1965.

Minutes: Faculty Association Executive Meeting. 11 February 1964. Owen J. Cook Papers, Archives, Brigham Young University-- Hawaii.

Robertson, Dale B. Personal Interview. n. d.

"Special Note on Tuesday's Assembly." CCH Daily Bulletin 10 February 1964: n. pag.

"Special Note on Tuesday's Assembly." CCH Daily Bulletin 11 February 1964: n. pag.

Tyler, Thomas. "Dr. Wootton Defends Speech In Faculty Panel Discussion." Ke Alaka'i 21 February 1963: 1-2.

Widtsoe, John A. Joseph Smith as Scientist: A Contribution to Mormon Philosophy. 1908. Salt Lake City: Bookcraft, 1964.

[Wootton, Richard T.] "President's Report: June 1, 1962." Owen J. Cook Papers, Archives, Brigham Young University--Hawaii.

---. Thoughts on the Nature and Reality of God. Laie: Church College of Hawaii, 1963