THE COLLEGE IN THE HILLS

AND, by the way...

Who was Penny Cent?

a.k.a. Fredrich Wilhelm Schmidt?
a.k.a. Robert H. Centurion?
a.k.a. Penrod Centurion?
a.k.a. Stefan Fosfore?
a.k.a. Robert Schmidt?
a.k.a. Pentigone?
a.k.a. Pentagone?

We now know that Penny Cent used all
all of these names!

But where did he go? We still don't know...

Comments and information to: webmaster@heritech.com.

UPDATE NOTES July, 2005 through May 2007 Updates: See Significant New Finds Below On July 26th, 2015, a "Penny Cent Symposium" organized by Gillum Ferguson was conducted in the Harrisburg District Library in Harrisburg, Illinois during which many significant facts were revealed. August 19, 2020, LATEST ADDITIONS AND UPDATES. In October of 2016 we were contacted by Michelle Hesse, from out Kansas way. She had stumbled upon this site and had taken an interest in our quest for information on Penny Cent. Since then, our quest became her quest. She has provided us with a treasure trove of interesting Internet links which has provided much information, including many revealing newspaper articles about both Penny Cent and the College in the Hills we were able to download. And Michelle's contributions are continuing! And, as if that wasn't enough to digest... Michelle Hesse Contributions Page (mh.htm) Significant additions posted 5th September 2020! Including many images contributed by Gary Snyder Gallery! Michelle has continued to do research on Penny Cent in a quest to fill in the blank space between 1950 and 1986, when he is believed to have died. On the 16th of April, 2019, Ms. Hess has obtained two files from the archives of The Chicago Art Institute of Chicago. The larger file contains over two dozen wonderful images Penny Cent letters and drawings addressed to one of the College in the Hills' benefactors (essentially from 1/7/1934 to 03/27/38). They include some "artistic letters" as well as a few hand-written drawings. We intend to feature some of these letters and drawings soon. The second file is a four page document originating from the Brooklyn College Library dated 1950. The content listed 77 Watercolors and Gouaches to be on display February through March, 1950 at the Brooklyn College Library, LaGuardia Hall, Main Reading Room. Robert George Reisner, Fellow, at Brooklyn College, and Stanley T. Lewis, who arranged the displays., both contributed a half page paragraph on or about "Centurion" as he had become after departing Southern Illinois.        In May of 2017 we heard from Dorothy Fortenberry of the great state of Colorado. Dorothy and her husband Mack, some five years before, had come into possession of a large quantity of personal papers, some of which were from the hand of a person with the strange name of "Penny Cent." The bulk of the papers turned out to be the personal papers of a mysterious gentleman named "Victor Authorius" of Chicago. Victor and Penny Cent had become close friends — apparently due to shared ideological views. These papers are not only very interesting, but quite revealing. Dorothy Fortenberry Contributions Page (df.htm) Most of the "Penny Cent papers" had been sent to Victor and his family during the years 1933 and 1934.  MORE PENNY CENT PAINTINGS SUBMITTED TO THIS SITE Many thanks to all contributors! Doug Silvia  A very interesting "Centurion/Pentagone" received 24 Sept. 2017. Gary Snyder, 35 "Cromorfs" compliments of Gary Snyder Gallery 14 April 2020. Greg Root  9 Penny Cent "Cromorfia" images received 8 May 2020. Russ Hicks  A painting of a House in Herod (see below) received 5 May 2020. Though Penny Cent favored his "cromorfs," he was also a very capable traditional artist. While at the College in the Hills, and later when residing in Harrisburg, Illinois, he often sketched or painted local scenes, houses, barns, and buildings, etc., which he often gave to the residents of the subject works.      The image of the painting below (signed "Penny Cent" dated 8/21/1934) was sent to us in May, 2020 by Russ Hicks, of Eaton Rapids, Michigan. The house stood in Herod (also known as Thacker's Gap), Illinois, opposite of Ferrell's General Store. CONTRIBUTED BY RUSS HICKS       This was the home of Russ's aunt, Mrs. Gertrude (Hicks) Reiner, and the painting has fallen into Russ's possession several years ago. In the painting is "Aunt Gertie and young Ferrell on the porch settee."      The Hicks family was quite prominent in days gone by. Not far from the site of the College in the Hills, remains the settlement known as "Hicks" -- and nearby that is the famous "Hicks Dome" (our  "almost" local volcano!).

COPY RIGHT NOTICE This web site may contain copyrighted material not specifically authorized by the copyright owner. Such material is made available on a nonprofit basis for educational, research, and general interest purposes – in the interests of disseminating information on Southern Illinois history, the College in the Hills, and the artist Robert Schmidt (aka Penny Cent, Prenrod Centurion, et. al.). It is believed this constitutes "fair use" under section 107 of the US Copyright Law. For more information see: www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/17/107.shtml.

THE COLLEGE in the HILLS
by William R. Carr

(NOTE: This article shall be edited soon. We've learned quite a lot since it was written several years ago. WRC)

Once upon at time, there was a college of liberal arts and humanities in the hills of Hardin County, Illinois — one of southern Illinois' poorest and most "backward" counties. Far removed from any city or population center of any size at all, it was not only in the hills, but in the woods, of what is called the Illinois Ozarks (today more commonly called the Shawnee Hills and the Shawnee National Forest). The campus was shaded by trees that pre-dated it. The college living quarters and classrooms were initially tents with wooden floors. As it grew, the few buildings that finally made up the campus, were designed and built from scratch by the faculty and students. They were built at very little cost, mostly of native materials — lumber from the local forests, and sandstone from the college's own quarry. The water supply was the creek that meandered across campus property, down in the hollow, until the well was dug. Heat in the various buildings was from fireplaces, and the fuel was wood harvested from the campus property, supplemented later with coal stoves. There was no electricity, and lighting was by kerosene and gasoline lamps.
    Courses of instruction offered included various humanities, biological, physical, and social sciences classes, along with algebra and trigonometry — and art. Requisites for resident students included: "...plenty of blankets, along with sheets, pillow, pillow cases, towels, and other items of personal use... High boots, overalls, and rough, warm, outdoor clothes..." and the willingness to do hard work. Part of every student's tuition was paid in the form of labor, and the first half of each day was spent at work, gathering and cutting firewood, building and maintaining the campus, etc.
    The main educational asset the college possessed, aside from its dedicated and highly motivated staff, was its library of about twenty-five hundred books — the first ever "public" library in Hardin County. Though young, the staff was not a bunch of intellectual pretenders. Their credentials were from such places as Northwestern University, Ball State College, Antioch College, the University of Illinois, and the Fredrich Wilhelm University of Berlin.
    If it were not for the historical record that clearly indicates that such a college existed, and the fact that many older residents can still clearly remember it, the very idea of such a college would seem pure fantasy. No sign of it remains at its former site today.

Summer of 1934. Under construction. Staff and students make up construction crew (right foreground) Trigg Ozark Tour Group visiting the new college (left, background). Penny Cent, right of center, standing next to the boy with crutches and coveralls. Note tents still in use as living quarters (right foreground).
(Above) Two views of the main building.

"The College in the Hills is a venture in education, based on the theory that a worthwhile training for life can be made available to a group of students who are willing to live and work together on a thoroughly cooperative basis. As a result of this theory, we have been able to make the cost to each individual lower than ordinary living expenses at home. At the same time we are attempting to bring the College into the community through extension classes and adult education groups. In building an education to serve this present age, the College in the Hills has aimed at two ends: —we are helping to build a new social, economic, and political order in our time, and we are trying to make ourselves into human beings capable of living in that better order.

"The College opened last June (1934) and ran a ten-week quarter ending August 31. During that time a temporary building was constructed, which is now being made winterproof. This structure will house the kitchen; a combination living-room, dining-room, and library; and the women's dormitory. Other structures are planned in accordance with our conception of organic architecture, using the native oak, and stone from a quarry on the campus. We are trying to put up a building with the maximum possible usable space; one wholly utilitarian and yet in keeping with the landscape of the region.

"According to present plans the staff and students are to put up these structures without any outside help. Finishing the job of weatherproofing the present structures and starting on the next units are the biggest jobs on campus. Preparing meals and daily maintenance are our other two major tasks." (College in the Hills Fall Quarter 1934 Newsletter "Forward" and "General Information")

The college was obviously (or at least purportedly), an experiment in "New social, economic, and political order" building. The staff had big plans, as if they knew they were part of a vast army embarking on the transformation of the nation, and their mission was to work their wonders on Hardin and neighboring counties. Whether the college was unique in that it was the one and only such experiment, or was one of many such experiments around the nation, I don't know. It is likely that there were other such experiments elsewhere. But, then again, it may have been a pilot project which, having failed, discouraged other similar attempts. If it was truly a one of a kind effort, initiated solely by those personally involved (both on site and behind the scenes), the College in the Hills would have been a rare and unique phenomena indeed!
    It was novel by anybody's standards, but more than just novel to many of the local residents.

PENNY CENT

One of the most interesting and enigmatic characters in the drama that was the College in the Hills was the German-American artist who went by the unlikely name of Penny Cent (most often articulated as one word — Pennycent and his closest friends called him simply "Penny". Of the college staff, he was the only obvious foreigner, and he spoke with a German accent. This, in itself, would have inevitably led to considerable speculation and suspicion by some of the local population. His obviously fictitious name, of course, made matters much worse. In fact, his true name and identity was wrapped in so much secrecy that apparently not even the other staff members knew it, and it remained a mystery (at least to us in the former environs of the College in the Hills) until 2015.
    My uncle, George Carr, and my father, James R. Carr (both artists in their own right), befriended Penny Cent soon after the college staff made their appearance in the area, thus I have inherited a second-hand "relationship" with Penny Cent's memory — and a personal interest that continues to inquire into that empirical question that many have asked over the last half century and more: "Whatever happened to Penny Cent?"
    Lamentably, the college only operated for about three years (Penny Cent and other members of the college staff arrived on site on the 17th of December 1934, and the College's main building burned to the gound on "Wednesday Feb. 23, 1938. The larger part of four years of struggle, pains, hardships, and labore was thus lost" wrote Penny Cent in a letter dated Mar. 19th, 1938.) When it closed down and its staff moved on to other pursuits, Penny Cent moved to Harrisburg (in Saline County) and privately taught art at his rented house at 104 N. McKinley St. as late as 1941. George Carr was one of his students. By 1941, World War II was in progress in Europe, and an anti-German sentiment had been rising its hoary head. Though Penny Cent seems to have continued to find Harrisburg congenial, some people in the area had begun somewhat of a gossip campaign. When Penny Cent left, it is believed he spent some time in Carbondale, Illinois, before returning to New York City, the last place he was known to have lived.

    In addition to his position on the college staff, and afterward, Penny Cent worked on the Work Progress Administration (WPA) Illinois Arts Project. He was the administrator in charge of the deep Southern Illinois art project. His name was listed as "Penny Cent," and his department was listed as "Easel/Administration" — location: Harrisburg and Williamson and Saline Counties. He helped my uncle, George Carr, and Paulis McClendon (two of his students), get jobs with the Federal Illinois Arts Project as well. No doubt he touched many other lives in a positive way too. Penny Cent apparently also worked on the Federal Writers' Project for some time as well as the Arts Project.
    Among other things, Penny Cent was a fitness enthusiast as well as a vegetarian. He rode a bicycle around Harrisburg when bicycle riding was no longer considered an adult activity. He was friendly, outgoing, kind, and generous — and obviously possessed a great sense of humor, as the flippant nature of his name would indicate.
    One Harrisburg native who remembers Penny Cent fondly is Luciella Foster, who still has some of his work. Just out of high school in 1937, Luciella had a summer job at the Harrisburg City Park swimming pool where Penny Cent often came to swim. "He was generous with what he had," she told a local newspaper writer in 2000, "He took the boys to go swimming who didn't have money to pay the admission fee." She said she knew little about him otherwise, but thought he was a kind man.
    It seems incredible that such a person would simply disappear from the face of the Earth, but the matters of his later career and ultimate fate remain a mystery which continue to baffle local researchers. After his involvement with the College in the Hills; and having been awarded several Guggenheim art Fellowships for nonobjective art (which apparently provided his financial wherewithal while at the College in the Hills, prior to the WPA Arts Projects); after having touched and inspired several lives; he seems to have simply vanished — remembered, but otherwise totally lost.
    After leaving Harrisburg, Penny Cent seems to have changed his nom de plum to Robert H. Centurion for a while, and then to Penrod Centurion. Under the name Penrod Centurion he produced what is probably a considerable volume of abstract art, and some of his works can still be found on various Internet web sites. None of those I've found thus far have been dated later than 1949. Only rumors have persisted. The man seems to have simply ceased to exist. If his given birth date of 1905 is correct, he would have been only 44 years old in 1949, with a long career ahead of him. (Circa 1915, we learned that 1902 was probably the correct year of Penny Cent's birth. So he would have been 47 in 1949. Along with this it was also confirmed that his real name was Robert Schmidt.)

The following (outdated) brief biography of Penrod Centurion (a.k.a., Penny Cent) was found on an Internet art web site. It leaves more questions unanswered than it answers. Hopefully, other interested researchers will be able to complete the story of the mysterious Penrod Centurion (a.k.a. Penny Cent). Penrod Centurion 1905 - Although Penrod Centurion was born in New York*, he was educated in both Swiss and German schools. In 1926, he returned to America. Before coming back to New York, Centurion was the director of College in the Hills, a small experimental school in Illinois. During this time he was also involved with the Federal Writers Project of Illinois. In 1937 Centurion came back to New York and became one of Hilla Rebay's inner circle at the Museum of Non-Objective Painting. This particular group of artists, which also included Rudolf Bauer, Rolph Scarlett, Laslo Moholy-Nagy and Irene Rice Pereira, shared with Rebay an embrace of nonobjective art. Centurion was among many other American artists who received scholarships and employment opportunities through the Guggenheim Foundation and Centurion exhibited in the first exhibition of the Museum of Non-Objective Painting. Selected References Art of Tomorrow. Fifth catalogue of the Solomon R. Guggenheim Collection of Non-Objective Paintings, New York, 1939. Lukach, Joan M. Hilla Rebay, In Search of the Spirit in Art. New York: George Braziller, Inc., 1983. *We have since learned from good authority that Penrod Centurion was not born in New York at all, but in Biesig, Silesia, which was part of Germany at the time of his birth in 1902 (or 1905. We have official documents that say both! See Michelle Hess's page.) 2015 PENNY CENT SYMPOSIUM PRODUCES SIGNIFICANT FINDS On Sunday the 26th of July, 2015, Gillum Ferguson, (historian and owner of a Penny Cent painting entitled "WPA Harrisburg Street Scene") conducted a surprisingly well attended Penny Cent Symposium.  The three person panel included Debra Tayes, recently retired from the Illinois State Museum system; retired school teacher, Luciella Foster, who, as mentioned above, knew Penny Cent during his Harrisburg years); and Bill Carr (this writer/webmaster). My roll was to tell of my father's personal relationship with Penny Cent during his time at the College in the Hills and, later, in Harrisburg. Mrs. Foster (a mighty young 96 year-old), had just graduated from high school in 1937, had landed a summer job at the Harrisburg city swimming pool where she met Penny Cent (who was currently residing in Harrisburg). She spoke of him in glowing terms, remembering him as a very kind, generous, and gentlemanly person who took an interest in people.  Debra spoke at length about Penny Cent, sharing the fruits of her many years of extensive research into the artist. Her research has including visits to New York's Guggenheim Foundation where she accessed their archives and was able to gain a very deep and person insight into Penny Cent's relationship with that institution's Museum of Non-Objective Art, and his (finally) stormy relations with Hilla Rebay, the museum's co-founder and head administrator. Among other things, we have learned, with considerable certainty, from Debra that Penny Cent's real name was Robert Schmidt, that he was born in 1902 in Germany, and that he probably died as late as 1986. Many of Ms. Tayes' revelations will be revealed in the updated text of the main article. There is still a considerable amount of mystery surrounding Penny Cent's "life after the Guggenheim" and the circumstances of his death in October of 1986. But the great mystery remains when it comes to what Penny Cent did to pass all that time between about 1950 until his death.

Penny Cent worked on the Work Progress Administration (WPA) Illinois Arts Project. He was, apparently, the administrator in charge of the deep Southern Illinois art project. His name was listed as Penny Cent, and his department was listed as "Easel/Administration" — location: Harrisburg and Williamson and Saline Counties. He helped my uncle, George Carr, and Paulis McClendon (two of his students), get jobs with the Federal Illinois Arts Project.  No doubt he touched many other lives in a positive way too. (Some published accounts say that Penny Cent worked on the Federal Writers' Project, but this was probably a mistake, unless he was in two separate programs at the same time or at slightly different times. My father, James Carr, worked on the WPA Federal Federal Writers' Project.)
    Penny Cent was, among other things, a fitness enthusiast as well as a vegetarian. He rode a bicycle around Harrisburg when bicycle riding was no longer considered an adult activity. He was friendly, outgoing, kind, and generous — and obviously possessed a great sense of humor, as the flippant nature of his name would indicate.
    One Harrisburg native who remembers Penny Cent fondly is Luciella Foster, who still has some of his work. Just out of high school in 1937, Luciella had a summer job at the Harrisburg City Park swimming pool where Penny Cent often came to swim. "He was generous with what he had," she told a local newspaper writer in 2000, "He took the boys to go swimming who didn't have money to pay the admission fee." She said she knew little about him otherwise, but thought he was a kind man.
    It seems incredible that such a person would simply disappear from the face of the Earth, but the matters of his later career and ultimate fate remain a mystery which continue to baffle local researchers. After his involvement with the College in the Hills; and having been awarded several Guggenheim art Fellowships for nonobjective art (which apparently provided his financial wherewithal while at the College in the Hills, prior to the WPA Arts Projects); after having touched and inspired several lives; he seems to have simply vanished — remembered, but otherwise totally lost.
    After leaving Harrisburg, Penny Cent seems to have changed his nom de plum to Robert H. Centurion for a while, and then to Penrod Centurion. Under the name Penrod Centurion he produced what is probably a considerable volume of abstract art, and some of his works can be found on various Internet web sites. None of those I've found thus far have been dated later than 1949. Only rumors have persisted. The man seems to have simply ceased to exist. If his given birth date of 1905 is correct, he would have been only 44 years old in 1949, with a long career ahead of him.

The EVENING COURIER  ILLINOIS MAGAZINE Saturday Eventing July 7, 1934 YOUTH in REVOLT Builds College in Hardin County Hills, by Carmen Weir Click on image below to see a larger image. Note that the article has been cut and pasted in order to get it into a one (long) page format. (Click on the article for a larger, more legiable view.)

QUOTED FROM SPRINGHOUSE MAGAZINE "A rather lengthy article about Penny Cent appeared in the 14 August 1938 Evansville Press. At that time the College had closed, the buildings had burned (under what circumstances I have been unable to learn). The artist at that time had a studio in Harrisburg. Penny Cent told the reporter his name was Penrod Centurion (the man was his own worst press agent!). One person who knew him well said his name could have been Frederich Wilhelm Schmidt, but the Schmidt/Smith name certainly bears no proof of its own identity. He claimed to have been born in 1905 of German-American parents, and to have been sent back to Germany at an early age to "help the American branch of the family keep its fingers on a valuable inheritance." The inheritance vanished in WWI. Cent said he attended Frederick Wilhelm University in Berlin, specializing in political economy and history. He also took art training at college, later attended Berlin Academy. He was a business correspondent in English, French, and German in 1924, in Finland. He also wrote movie reviews for the German press. In 1926 he moved to Chicago, and at one time worked in the art department of Marshall Field. Penny Cent came to Southern Illinois with the College In The Hills group in 1934. He worked on a Federal Writers Project and continued his painting. He later won a Guggenheim fellowship in "nonobjective art," now known as abstract art. Cent called the form, which he had turned out for years, "Cromorfs," a term he coined from two Greek words--"chromos-color" and "morphos-form." No one seems to know what became of Penny Cent. There were rumors that he was arrested as a spy and sent to Leavenworth, but several years ago a reporter failed to find any proof of that. Others thought he moved to a city and became a street person. The last Saline and neighboring counties saw of him was on the day James Carr and Paulus McClendon, who had befriended him to the end, helped him pack his belongings in his red convertible and waved good-bye as he drove away--destination uncertain. Carr never heard from him again." Quoted from the Springhouse Magazine, article of June 1989 by Mildred B. McCormick. See... The Springhouse Magazine, April 1989 (Vol. 6, No. 2) The College in the Hills, Part I The Springhouse Magazine, June 1989 (Vol. 6, No. 3) The College in the Hills, Part II MORE FROM SPRINGHOUSE The Springhouse Magazine, 2001, Vol. 18, No. 1. College in the Hills, A Phenomenon of the Great Economic Depression, by Fred J. Armsistead The Springhouse Magazine, 2001, Vol. 18, No. 6. Painting by Pennycent Returns, by Brian DeNeal. The Springhouse Magazine, 2017, Vol. 31, No. 4. College in the Hills, by Janet (Peterson) Howard, first published in July 19, 1996

While at the College in the Hills, Penny Cent was known to accept mail addressed to Frederich Wilhelm Schmidt, but it is unlikely that this gives a hint of his real name — unless he happened to be named for the Friedrich Wilhelm University, where he attended college (Now the University of Berlin). Friedrich Wilhelm was the name of the king of Austria, and the crown prince of the German Empire under the Keiser, who had a son of the same name born about the time Penny Cent was born. King Friedrich had many namesakes, including the philosopher, Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche. Naturally, it is possible that Penny Cent was one of those namesakes. Schmidt, of course, is the German equivalent of Smith.
    We can speculate that Penny Cent was from a rather affluent family, since they were apparently able to send him to Switzerland and Germany for an education. For the same reason, we can speculate that his family valued German culture and educational institutions more highly than what was available in the United States — or at least desired their son to maintain his German identity and cultural moorings. They may have had political connections in pre-World War One Germany. Possibly Penny Cent was wealthy in his own right (though the main family "inheritance vanished in WWI"). It wouldn't stretch the imagination too much to speculate that he might even have been a member of the Austrian royal family. Perhaps, as an artist, he was determined to make it on his own after gaining his education, eschewing his possible inheritance. Perhaps once his odyssey in the American heartland and New York was over, he resumed the station in life to which he was an heir — forever divorcing himself from his former American identity.
    It is quite possible that he had political reasons for keeping his identity secret. (Of course, many German Americans shed their German names for anglicized versions during the anti-German  of WWI. My step-grandfather's surname, for exampled, was changed from Kerr to Carr) One might speculate that Penny Cent returned to Germany, was somehow swept up in the war, and perhaps failed to survive it. However, at least one painting by Penrod Centurion that I have been able to locate, was dated 1949. Though it is not known where it was painted (for some of his work has surfaced in Europe), it would indicate that he did survive the war years. If he had serious communist sympathies (though we have no evidence that this is the case), he may have disappeared behind the Iron Curtain — into the USSR or East Germany. In fact, he may have disappeared behind the Iron Curtain if he happened to stray into East Germany or the Soviet block with serious anti-communist sympathies.
    We can only hope that he did not end up the way College in the Hills researcher Fred J. Armistead reported to Mrs. Foster — that: "The last time Pennycent was seen he was a bum on skid row in New York City."

(Update, July 2017: There are still plenty of missing pieces in the mosaic of Penny Cent's colorful life, but several mysteries remain, including that perplexing question, "Whatever happened to Penny Cent" after his trail went cold about 1950.)
   
    Could this have been the fate of the artist who was said to have been a member of Hilla Rebay's inner circle at the Museum of Non-Objective Painting — an up and coming institution in that era, and one that still exists (Since 1952, the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum)? (See recent mention of Penrod Centurion from Guggenheim Museum Web Site.) If so, what happened to him next? The Guggenheim Foundation archives may have the answers, but has not yet yielded them up. I'd like to believe that we will rediscover Penny Cent under yet another name, perhaps having lived a long and happy life in Europe or among South Sea Islanders.

Penny Cent's last known address in possession of my father. "Current usage" Robert H. Centurion. The paper is signed, "Best o' regards, Chuck." My father, in his old age, couldn't recall who Chuck might have been, but it was probably Charles T. Whitlock.

SIGNIFICANT NEW DISCOVERY REVEALED HERE FOR THE FIRST TIME (2005) NOTE (JULY 7, 2005): On June 30th, the webmaster received an email from a Mrs. Linda Talbot of Michigan. While searching through the personal effects of her recently deceased mother, she made a significant discovery. She found some strange abstract artwork by an artist who signed his name "Penrod Centurion." In her Internet search for information about the artist, she found this web site and contacted the webmaster.    Charles T. Whitlock, Mrs. Talbot's father, who passed away in 1987, had been born, and had grown up, in Harrisburg, Illinois. Since finding the Penrod Centurion paintings, she has learned that her father knew Penny Cent as a young man while still in Harrisburg, and may have studied art under Penny Cent. The paintings are dated 1938, and Mr. Whitlock was a senior in high school in that year. Linda says that other family members believe her father met Penny Cent at the Harrisburg swimming pool where both spent a considerable amount of time. Later, Mr. Whitlock moved to Michigan with his family and pursued a career as a police officer on the Oakland County Police Department.    Mrs. Talbot speculates that her father may have been the "Chuck" who signed the address note shown above that was found among my own recently deceased father's papers, and I am inclined to agree.    Mrs. Talbot kindly had digital photos made of two paintings, one of which is on the back of the other, which are published here for the first time ever in the gallery below.

Penny Cent's arrival at the College in the Hills. Sketch on post card.

JUNE 1, 2006 and May 11 UPDATE While Penny Cent's disappearance remains clouded in mystery, some tantalizing clues are beginning to come forth. As mentioned above, the Guggenheim Foundation probably has a lot of answers, but its archives have apparently been sealed and withheld from the public scrutiny. It appears very likely that the archives contain information the foundation would rather not reveal. In addition to the Significant Find Above, the webmaster has recently received another email from Mrs. Linda Talbot. She has found some old letters exchanged between her father (who was a Harrisburg friend of Penny Cent), and her mother during World War Two. One dated March 1, 1943 is briefly quoted below (slightly edited for clarity). Ms. Talbot wrote: I have been reading my letters... from my dad to my mother while he was in the service. (In) One letter, dated March 1, 1943, while going to school in New York and staying at the Broadway Central Hotel, he states that their was a party with a bunch of guys from Harrisburg – and in walks Penny Cent.      In the letter (my father) said that Penny Cent told him that he was really (working) with the F.B.I. – on one of the biggest spy rings in the U.S. – (involving) some rich guy by the name of Von Bauer. Dad said Penny Cent was living in Brooklyn at that time.     This adds an entirely new dimension to the quest for information about Penny Cent. You might say it adds the hint of a little more drama than we'd thus far imagined. From another interested source searching for answers, I learned that there was a considerable amount of conflict at the Museum of Non-Objective Painting (now the Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum), between it's co-founder and top administrator, Hilla Rebay – to be more precise, Baroness Hildegard Anna Augusta Elisabeth Rebay von Ehrenwiesen,  (b. 1890 d. 1967 – born in Strassburg, Alsace) – (who practically claimed to have all but invented nonobjective art), and her erstwhile following, which included Penny Cent (by then known as Penrod Centurion). Rudolf Von Bauer, who held a higher position in her "inner circle," came into serious conflict with the Countess.      According to this source, "Rebay wanted to own him..." and, along with several others, Bauer became very angry with her. Penny Cent was so angry that he, together with others, launched a campaign to unseat her from her position at the Guggenheim. And, one particularly puzzling tidbit, "Hilla Rebay was put under house arrest during the war..." Von Bauer, according to biographical articles published about the countess, was one of Rebay's several lovers, which would help explain why she wanted to control him, and why there may have been wider conflicts infecting the Guggenheim than the hint of alleged espionage (for the "countess" allegedly had several affairs with, not only her underlings, but (allegedly) her patron Solomon R. Guggenheim himself.      An interesting essay, entitled, "Rudolf Bauer: A Non-Objective Point of View," by Steven Lowy, from the web site of Weinstein Gallery in San Francisco, helps flesh out the reasons for Bauer's conflict with Hilla, and with Guggenheim. (This information kindly sent to to the webmaster by a Brian George, in May 2007). I had speculated, "Could Penny Cent have actually been working covertly with the FBI to break a major World War Two spy ring firmly ensconced at the Guggenheim? Hilla Rebay and Rudolf Bauer, of course (like Penny Cent himself), were Germans. If Ms. Rebay was placed under house arrest during the war, there is considerable smoke here. Could it have been the result of Penny Cent's revelations -- or his covert FBI undercover work?" That looked likely for a while, but now it seems that Hilla was "grounded" for illegaly hoarding coffee and other coveted commodities.  Lowy's essay, however, indicates that it was Bauer, rather than Penny Cent, who was responsible for Hilla's "house arrest." He had apparently intimated to the FBI that she was a Nazi spy – about the same time Penny Cent was intimating the same thing about him! Hilla was investigated on the spy charge, but the only thing they could find to pin on her was the "illegally hoarding" during war time. Apparently Penny Cent's effort on behalf of national security against Bauer failed to bear fruit, unless it was more bitter fruit for himself.        All of this would explain why Penny Cent became literally penniless, and probably never saw another penny of Guggenheim endowment money. And he likely became "persona non grata" in the entire nonobjective art world. After Solomon Guggenheim died, Hilla Rebay was finally forced out of the Guggenheim "Museum of Non-Objective Painting" and the name was changed to make the separation all the more galling to her (for she was not at all popular with the other members of the Guggenheim family or museum trustees). And, of course, many of the artists of her inner circle crashed along with her, including Penny Cent. Bauer was cut off too, but at least he came out rather well off.      It would be a twist of irony if Penny Cent, who had been suspected by some (at least in Southern Illinois), of being a communist or German spy, was actually undercover for the FBI? I have personally wondered how such an obviously fictitious name would be officially enrolled in the Federal Arts Project. It seemed so unlikely to me that such a name would be accepted in a Federal Program, but he was not only a WPA artist, but a regional supervisor – enrolled under the name of Penny Cent!      One of the ways a person "disappears" in our society, of course, is through the "witness protection program." Whether that program was going on during World War Two, I don't rightly know. Penny Cent (as Penrod Centurion), however, is known to have painted at least through 1950. Then vanished without a trace.      At that very time, on the eve of the Cold War, apparently something else was happening in the art world. The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), was beginning to take a hand in promoting the popularity of non-objective art. (See: "Of Spies and Splatters" by Frances Stonor Saunders, which appeared in the London "Independent on Sunday," on October 22, 1995.)      Another way a person often effectively disappears is merely to move into a status of object poverty after being disowned by influential friends. It is likely that this happened to Penny Cent. Cut off from the source of his sustenance, and perhaps even "black balled" by the entire non-objective art community, he probably found that there was little market for his cromorfs in the real world of that era – in spite of the promotion provided by the CIA.      Penny Cent's later life and fate remain unrevealed. Though parts of the puzzle continue to accumulate and fall into place, the whole picture is still far from clear. You might say, the plot continues to thicken around that empirical question that prompted the creation of this web page, i.e., "What ever happened to Penny Cent?" 2016-2017 FINDS Thanks to Michelle Hesse, of "Somewhere out in Kansas" who has become our most active and enthusiastic Penny Cent researcher. Here are (thus far) our very first and last newspaper glimpses of Penny Cent/Robert H. Centurion (1932 and 1950).      First is a very short article published in The Daily Northwestern on Friday, May 6, 1932. You'll notice that Alice, the author, does not believe in capitalization.      The second article was published in the Brooklyn Eagle on Sunday 28th, 1950 which is not only the most recent (and last) mention of Penny Cent (then Robert H. Centurion), but also sheds light on his date and place of birth! The actual copies leave something to be desired (click on the images to see them in a larger scale) so we've provided transcripts of these two articles. Click on the images for a larger view. Read transcripts below. The Daily Northwestern Friday, May 6, 1932 'If You're Going Out' by Hubert Kelley ambling along with alice evanston, yes, staid old evanston, is going modernistic, said alice, and therewith led me to the ROC studio (1002 chicago avenue, evanston -- suite 7). the studio, art school, gallery (very eminently including some snitzy chromorfs), and literary aslon are conducted th the genial little artist, penny cent, whom you'll like -- a lot. saturday night's penny cent conducts open-house for earnest, aspiring geniuses then you can go, read your own poetry or novel or exhibit your sketches and receive criticism and help from others who are interested in the same punch and judy : ten days that shook the world is the historical picure thing you are, and if you've no productions of your own -- well go over anyhow, you'll enjoy the honestly bohemian atmosphere. with which explaination we do hope mr. peny cent will parden our plagiariizing his own style of make up this week.  Brooklyn Eagle Sunday, May 28, 1950 Centurion, Modernist, Paints Boros's 'Impact' When Robert H. Centurion sounds off rhapsodically about Brooklyn, there is a definate strain of Walt Whitman in his words.     "The City of Brooklyn is dynamic, natural, human, boisterous, exciting, serene and always stimulating." says the German-born artist whose 77 water colors and gouaches now on exhibition at the Brooklyn College Library comprise the first one-man modern art show there.     That's why he quit his position as assistant to the director of the museum of Non-Objective Painting in 1941, severed all professional connections and settled at 306 Albemarle Road in Flatbush to work in complete quietude.      Fascinated by city-life, he began searching for new forms to epress his impressions of his new surroundings. Painting largely in the abstact -- many of his works have a dream-like unreality -- he has turned out 119 oils, 900 water colors and more than 3000 pencel sketches within nine years.    Born in Biesig, Silesia, in 1902, Centurion's father was and American citizen traveling abroad.    He came to America in 1926. The enwuing years found him working with the Federal Art Project in Illinois and lecturing at Northwestern Universidy.    In 1938 he joined the Guggenhiem Foundation which has given him three fellowships.    Centurion describes himself as an advance modern artist. His choices of titles betrays no shallow imagination. "Subway Speeding Through My City," "Man With Eye in Back of His Head" and "Brooklyn City Sunset Song" are only a few of the works currently being exhibited on the Flatbush campus at Bedford Ave. and Avenue H.    The artist was "rescued" from virtual seclusion several months ago by Robert George Reisner, a Brooklyn college graduate and a memeber of the library staff who noticed several Centurion oils at the Bella Napoli Resaurant, 121 Church Ave. He persuaded Prof. H.G. Bousfiel, the college's chief librarian to sponsor the current showing.    The exhibition will continue through June 15, It is open Mondays through Thursdays from 9 a.m. to 10 p.m., Fridays from 2 to 6 p.m. and Saturdays from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m.  MORE HERE Note that Penny Cent claimed "...he quit his position as assistant to the director of the museum of Non-Objective Painting in 1941" and, circa 1950, "...he was 'rescued' from virtual seclusion..." (and, perhaps, obscurity?) So, though he'd been more or less excommunicated and banished from the Guggenhiem, he had apparently been producing art for almost a decade, in seclution and, perhaps, dire poverty. Then, just as it looked as though he was making something of a comeback in the art world, he seems to have simply vanished. He may have lived until 1986, when he would have been 84 years old. Thus, we must continue to wonder -- where was Penny Cent, and what was he doing during those last 36 years of his life?

One reason the college failed was that some local residents immediately suspected that the staff of the College in the Hills was a group of communists. Penny Cent, particularly, fell under increasing local suspicion. Both his German accent and fictitious name worked against him. By the time Penny Cent left Harrisburg, National Socialist Germany had engaged Europe in the war of the century, and many had long suspected that Penny Cent might thus be a Nazi spy. Many of his local friends had fallen away during the years leading up to World War II (though it actually appears that Penny Cent felt that Harrisburg and his friends there "needed" him. *It was Hilla Rebay and the Guggenheim that insisted upon his departure from Harrisburg, insisting that he come to New York to work on his paintings. My father and a mutual friend, Paulis  one of the very few around Harrisburg whose friendship lasted to the very end — the day Penny Cent left the area never to be heard from again in these parts.
   Though I have an interest in learning more about Penny Cent, I am not engaged in any primary research into the matter. My purpose here is to devote a web site to what has thus far come to my attention with respect to his life and work — assembling that information in one place where those with interest may find it. It is my hope that this page will attract the attention of those with a similar interest and, hopefully, some additional knowledge of the subject — and, thus far it has been succeeding though there are many as yet unanswered questions. Any additional information, as well as digital images of Penny Cent's artwork, will be most appreciated. Please email any such information or images to: webmaster@heritech.com so they can be incorporated into this site. Those who send information should state whether or not they would like to be credited as the contributing source of any such information or images that may be added to this site.
   With the exception of some of Penrod Centurion's nonobjective art, which I have been able to find on the Internet, most of the information, photos, and illustrations, on this web page have been published on the pages of the Springhouse Magazine, a unique journal published by Gary and Judy DeNeal (Brian DeNeal took the helm of Springhouse in 2016). Most of this information may be found in the April and June, 1989 (Vol. 6, Nos. 2 and 3), and the February, 2001 (Vol. 18, No. 9), issues of that publication (and subsequent issues).

2017 article in Springhouse Magazine "College in the Hills" by Janet (Peterson) Howard.

*2017 update: According to letters found in the Guggenheim

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COMMENTS ON THE COLLEGE IN THE HILLS

COLLEGE IN THE HILLS APPLICATION

My father told Penny Cent right off the bat, "You're mistaken if you think the people down around here hunger for education."  Those that definitely did not hunger for education knew that they at least knew enough to get by. And they did, though at the time many also depended upon federal relief to supplement their family food larders. After all, this was during the Great Depression. And most of those who did hunger for an education were under the impression that it could only be had at great expense and inconvenience by going somewhere else — and to utilize it after attaining it would mean that most would probably never return to their farms and homes.
    That an education could be attained so near to home, and under such primitive conditions as existed at the College in the Hills, just didn't seem credible. Aside from that, the college labored under numerous other handicaps, not the least of which were it's lack of funding and accreditation. As a truly private endeavor, neither the federal nor state government gave it the least financial support or material assistance. The amazing thing is that the college managed to get started in the first place, and get as much accomplished as it did.
    In addition to those unavoidable handicaps, the young faculty members, in spite of being forewarned, failed to take the local culture into serious account. Penny Cent and his associates were like missionaries come to civilize and reform the natives of a foreign land — and that's undoubtedly how they thought of themselves. Had they worn missionary robes, or adopted something like a military dress-code, they might have been taken a little more seriously, but not necessarily approved of or appreciated. Had they come with millions of dollars in endowments, bulldozers and construction crews, at least they might have awed the natives. But they came only with themselves, high aspirations, a few books and tools, and their alien bohemian ways, which many locals took as arrogance and disrespect.
     Of course, there was a perception among the college staff, that the natives were in dire need of the most elementary instruction — in such basics as sanitation and how to live in a modern world. The Illinois State Supervisor of Adult Education (Office of the Superintendent of Public Instruction), put the "need" succinctly when writing an appeal to the Carnegie Foundation in New York on behalf of the college: "It (the Illinois Ozarks) is culturally a colony of the hill region of Kentucky and Tennessee. There is no general locality in the state more in need of the kind of educational work the college can do; at the same time—as is but natural—there is no region less aware of its educational needs... (The college staff)  were well aware of the resistance they would have to face from local fanatic provincialism... I can assure you that any help you can give them will be an investment in the future enlightenment of one of the darkest regions in this troubled state."
    What "they" referred to as "fanatic provincialism," of course, was what most of our parents and grandparents called community and community spirit. Though the College in the Hills failed, we now enjoy the modernity that our grandparents lacked. But, alas, the community and community spirit which once existed are all but gone. Despite mistakes, and its obvious socialist ideology and orientation, the College in the Hills was emphatically not about destroying our community. It was actually about adding an educational dimension to the community and truly contributing to that community.
    It is lamentable that the College in the Hills failed, for the learning process might have been a two way street whereby the college staff might have learned from the local community's broader and more fundamental spirit of American rural self-reliance. The "natives" may have constructively influenced the missionaries who came to change and enlighten them. As things turned out, there was no effective exchange of ideas, and thus any meeting of the minds was derailed.
   The causes of the failure of the College in the Hills can be attributed to both the college staff and local community. The idea, if not its presumed root political motivation, had tremendous merit and potential, but critical mistakes were made. Those mistakes insured that the local community would reject the opportunity presented by idealists willing to work and make personal commitments and sacrifices on their behalf. That said, there is little doubt that the ideology behind the experiment was socialist, if not totally Marxist, in nature. The college president made that clear enough when he wrote:

"...we are helping to build a new social, economic, and political order in our time, and we are trying to make ourselves into human beings capable of living in that better order."

    Though I am not a socialist by any measure, I'm sorry that the college did not succeed. Our subsequent and inevitable "uplift" has nonetheless resulted in the destruction of the rural communities and the lose of much of our capacity for local self-reliance. Higher education has always taken people away from rural communities and has seldom been a two way street. The community would have benefited greatly, in my opinion, had the college succeeded — for though it may have been an experiment in grass-roots social engineering, it's own dedication to hard work and self-reliance might have put a different face on socialist institutions in America. While the people's horizons would have been broadened, the faculty's opinion of local culture might have been influenced in a positive manner too.
    At the local "people" level, there is nothing particularly wrong with socialist concepts. It is only at the state and national political level where they become a threat to "freedom and liberty" as we know it — or once knew it. The self-contained, and self-reliant agricultural or educational commune should have been allowed a place along with the traditional American family farm and subsistence farming. Had this experiment succeeded, the face of the nation might have been radically different than we find it today. This grass-roots attempt at injecting education and new ideas into the countryside itself, having failed, may have (at least in part), contributed to the evolution of the radically different society and government we have today, whereby government programs have destroyed the American style family farm-based local economics. Very radical change (in spite of once wide-spread rural provincialism), has been thrust down upon the nation from above without the fully informed consent of the governed, and with lasting and irreversible consequences (pardon the political digression, I just couldn't resist it).
    The College of the Hills was definitely an experiment in social and economic engineering. But pursued at the grass-roots level, the people would have had a say in the evolutionary processes of social change that were inevitably destined to impact their lives. There is no doubt about the socialist nature of the driving ideology of the enterprise, and the stated purposes leave no doubt that it was part of a much larger vision than merely transforming one rural community.

IT WAS IN THE WOODS The campus itself was unique in that it was largely built from scratch, by faculty and students, using mostly native materials, much of which was harvested from the campus property. It was a somewhat amazing undertaking and a very noble experiment. Unfortunately, because of the rustic setting, rustic architecture, an obvious and unrelenting lack of funding, and the informal atmosphere nurtured by the staff, few "natives" were inclined to take it seriously as an institute of higher education.

No doubt it was a great adventure to them, but their intentions were good. The project they undertook was certainly a very ambitious, and a potentially worthwhile one. But the "natives" (at least some of them) resented the thought that others (especially citified outsiders), considered them in need of some sort of salvation. Penny Cent and crew were idealists, progressives, and humanists. They were different — and they didn't seem to belong. Among many of the residents of Hardin County and surrounding environs, being "progressive and humanist" was enough to brand them as either candidates for, or messengers from, Hades. There were enough "locals" sufficiently aware of world affairs to recognized the socialist nature of their endeavor, and the entire nation had been taught that socialism and communism were diametrically opposed to democratic freedom and our capitalist system.
    It is hardly surprising that "socialists" would be regarded with suspicion in a day when communist socialism was considered a growing threat to western civilization and National "Socialism" (Nazism), was on the rise in Germany.
    To make matters all the worse, the college staff apparently intended to "go native," probably in an attempt to seem more informal and approachable - but to a degree the local population thought unbecoming. In a sense they were like the hippies of a later era who thought nothing of visiting their ideas of "freedom" (free love, nudism, drug use, etc.) to ultra-conservative Mexican or Nepalese villages during the 60's and 70's, without the slightest regard to local sensitivities.
    There is no evidence that any of the staff of the College of the Hills advocated free love, nudism, or drug use, but their brand of informality was considered radical in 1930s rural (Bible Belt) America. At a time when American Christian missionaries were still being sent abroad to convert the heathen, the perception of a "non-Christian" mission to un-convert, or corrupt, American rural fundamentalists might have been expected to fly like a lead balloon.
    The faculty of the college was given to, as we now say, "dressing down," or "under-dressing" in two different contexts — as is illustrated below. And Penny Cent was known to at least sunbathed in the nude.

HE CAME TO ENLIGHTEN... ...THE NATIVES!

At left is Penny Cent decked out in only a loin cloth. This was something he wouldn't have dreamed of doing on the campuses where he gained his credentials. The "natives" considered this (as well as young ladies in shorts), to be in bad taste, and the next thing to nudism — certainly unbecoming of college "professors." Below is a group shot of the staff. Though they are dressed perfectly decently, they seemed to the locals to lack the dignified bearing expected of professional educators.

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The original college staff, seven of whom are probably included in the picture above
Donald P. Brown	President (probably at right above)	Northwestern University
Donald Monson	Business Manager and Architect	Northwestern
Astrid Aronson	College Secretary & Social Research	Northwestern
George Guernsey	Humanities	Northwestern
Mildred George	Speech	Ball State, Northwestern, Butler
Harold Monson	Speech	St. Olaf College and Luther Seminary
Penny Cent	Art (second from right, above)	Friedrich Wilhelm University, Berlin
Thomas E. Garrison	Political Science	Northwestern
Nadia Naumann	Psychology, German	Northwestern
Richard F. Peterson	Psychology, Biology	University of Illinois and Northwestern

WORKERS UNITE! The illustration at right (possibly by Penny Cent), appeared in the booklet or newsletter, College in the Hills, Summer Quarter, 1934. It is reminiscent of the type of art which had become the hallmark in the USSR and other "Peoples' Republics." It presumably shows the laborer and his foreman (the learned), as equals.     Were these progressive idealists communists? Perhaps. In fact, I would say, probably so, at least at one ideological level. (We've found that Penny Cent had enthusiastically attended Communist meetings during this period of his life.) Several of the college staff were members of the Socialist Party, and the rest, according to the college president, Donald P. Brown, were "non-party socialists...  well to the left of center. (Though) There is no political party or group backing us."    The college president, said, "The location, in the Ozark uplift, was selected because of its possibilities in labor education among the miners and workers nearby."

Few communists, it must be remembered, actually belonged to the American Communist Party, since there was (and still is), considerable social and political stigma attached to such membership, and, of course, there was a socialist movement in this country that was opposed to "communism" as practiced in the Soviet Union. What we often call the Marxist/socialist agenda was being promoted in this country (then, as now), mostly by non-party intellectuals, largely through the influences of the adherents and intellectual descendants of what is known as the "Frankfort School" (which was active in the United States during the thirties via the Columbia University). 

THE FRANKFORT SCHOOL Following Adolf Hitler's rise to power in 1933, the Institute left Germany for Geneva, before moving to New York City in 1935, where it became affiliated with Columbia University. Its journal Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung was accordingly renamed Studies in Philosophy and Social Science. It was at this moment that much of its important work began to emerge, having gained a favorable reception within American and English academia. Horkheimer, Adorno and Pollock eventually resettled in West Germany in the early 1950s, although Marcuse, Lowenthal, Kirchheimer and others chose to remain in the United States. It was only in 1953 that the Institute was formally re-established in Frankfurt. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frankfurt_School WAS PENNY CENT A COMMUNIST? It appears that that Penny Cent was an enthusiastic revolutionary in the early 1930s, though he apparently didn't advertise it in Southern Illinois. In the documents below, it appears that Penny Cent is acting as a councilor/handler to his mysterious friend, Victor Authorious, who seems to have written for, and lectured at, various socialist-oriented groups, including the youth group mentioned below. (The below notes, in Penny Cent's hand, were generously donated by Dorothy Fortenberry of Colorado.) (Click on images below to see full size)

Many socialists would deny that they are unduly influenced by communism or Marxism. But the revolutionary processes taught by the Frankfort School aim at a transformation of society and, effectively, the destruction of western culture (using, among other things, innoculous techniques as "critical theory") through subtle educational and psychological means, from within the society being transformed. This has since been termed by some as "cultural communism," and (according to many contemporary right-wingers), its cadres are as active and functional today as when the USSR existed, if not more so. Though, seemingly contradictory, many have now embraced global capitalism [globalization] as the means by which to bring about a somewhat altered version of their new social order. Obviously communist China has embraced "capitalism" it in a big way.
    The College in the Hills was obviously organized very much as an educational and working "commune." It was also intended (rather openly) to be a "labor college," targeting local coal and fluorspar miners. What else than for indoctrination into the socialist labor movement? The "professors," or teachers, at the college called themselves "advisors" rather than teachers or instructors, which is in keeping with the idea of the equality of the proletariat. The assertion that "we are trying to be instrumental in the bringing of a new social order, as well as fitting our students to be citizens of that order," was the purest of Marxist rhetoric, (though it may just as easily have been another expression for Franklin D. Roosevelt's New Deal).

PENNY CENT ON ART, CULTURE, AND GOD (in a note to a Mrs. Hosick - from February 2001, Springhouse) Dear Mrs. Hosick: You possess culture and religion if you possess art. The brighter human ideals as well as the culture of any community reveal themselves and are fostered by a deep love and revert interest in the beautiful aspects of its very setting and surroundings. The beauty of the landscape as God has made it and the beauty of buildings as man has made them, are among the real first causes of Art. You love God if you love Art, because then you love the beautiful things He has mad or inspired. Penny Cent 12-24-34

When it came to possessing religion, the local community would have taken serious exception to Penny Cent's statement in the above note. The Christian fundamentalists of the region around The College in the Hills held unshakable beliefs when it came to what it took to "possess religion" and know and love God — and art and culture had nothing to do with it. Such poetic ideas were taken as heresy.
    Penny Cent, of course, was the art instructor of the college. Though he was a "real" artist (as evidenced by the Church drawing below), he obviously gravitated toward nonobjective art, the artistic language favored by the political left. (And that's the kind of art that could elicit foundation grant money). The avant garde movement and practitioners of modern, nonobjective, art (abstract expressionism), were particularly associated with leftist thought, as is illustrated in a revealing article entitled "Of Spies and Splatters" by Frances Stonor Saunders, which appeared in the London "Independent on Sunday," on October 22, 1995.

See Cromorph Gallery Below

"If that's art," President Harry Truman once said, "then I'm a Hottentot."

While my instincts favor President Truman's assessment of modern art, I reluctantly agree that it is art — attractive in many cases (such as the works above), but often merely eye-catching (as blood or rubbish in the street is eye-catching). It isn't the art I would personally wish to be associated with.  I consider much of it the 'Acid Rock' and 'Rap Music' of visual arts. In my personal opinion (which, of course, has never proven to be worth a plug nickel), it represents an erosion, or repudiation, of western artistic values – that is, a reversion to "primitive art" as "modern" artistic expression (see "Of Spies and Splatters"). But, after all, what am I but just another "failed artist."
    By contrast, the painting below is a somewhat primitive attempt at fine art, rather than an intentional perversion of it. W.R.C.

The work at right, entitled "WPA Street Scene," surfaced on an Ebay Internet auction site in December of 2001, and was purchased by Harrisburg native Billy Beal (Since then, Mr. Beal has passed on, and the painting was acquired by Gillum Ferguson) This is an example of intentionally "primitive" art, bordering on impressionistic — that is, the artist made the scene less realistic than his artistic abilities were capable of. (Click on the image for a larger view)

1937 Harrisburg Illinois "WPA Street Scene," Owned by Gillum Ferguson

  

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