The Harvard of the Midwest

What's got fewer than 1,000 people, excellent farm land, and good, clean living? Harvard. Harvard, Nebraska, that is.

By Ken Gewertz

Gazette Staff

Harvard, as everyone knows, is unique, matchless, one of a kind, sui generis.

But is it?

It had never occurred to us to question Harvard's peerless status until we got a letter from Craig Barfknecht, who teaches fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-grade social studies in the town of Harvard, Nebraska. Barfknecht wanted to tell us how his town got its name.

"Harvard, Nebraska," he wrote, "was named by an official of the railroad that built its track through this area in the early 1870s. As was the custom at that time, settlements along the tracks were named in alphabetical order. When the tracks reached our location, a settlement that began with an "H" was needed, and since the official, whose name is unknown, had attended Harvard University, he suggested that it be named in the school's honor."

Another Harvard! And so far away. Smack dab in the middle of what used to be called the Western Wilderness, a land of waving wheat, grain silos, and endless highways presided over by Stuckey's, Bob Evans, and Red Roof Inns. We were already well aware of Harvard Massachusetts, the lovely town some 30 miles to our west, but Harvard, Nebraska, was different, more exotic somehow, like discovering a kosher restaurant in Bangkok or marine fossils in the Himalayas.

Yet, as we learned more about the town's history and its present circumstances, talking with Barfknecht and some of his fellow townspeople by phone and poring over articles and photographs, Harvard, Nebraska, began to assume a firmer outline in our mind. Its people, its physical appearance, its way of life began to seem more real, and we were stirred by a desire to tell its story.

The two Harvards provide a striking study in contrasts. Unlike Harvard University, which lies in the woodsy, hilly Northeast, Harvard, Nebraska is in the part of the country that might be referred to as the land of squares, meant in the geometrical sense, not as the opposite of hip.

To an airline passenger at 30,000 feet, the terrain appears perfectly flat, intersected by a grid of perpendicular lines, a perfect checkerboard of greens and golds. In this sweeping expanse of fertile agricultural land, the only curved lines are the rivers, the principal one in this area being the Platte, which meanders lazily through southern Nebraska before joining the Missouri about 20 miles south of Omaha.

Clay County, where Harvard is located, is a perfect square surrounded by identical squares with names like Adams, Hamilton, York, Seward, Fillmore, and Webster. The towns are small. Harvard's population is a little under 1,000. The only sizable population centers nearby are Hastings and Grand Island, 15 and 32 miles away, respectively.

Unlike Harvard University, whose magnetic attraction seems to draw students, faculty, and visitors from all quarters of the globe, Harvard, Nebraska, seems to have trouble holding onto its already minuscule population. Della Keasling, a retired schoolteacher and local historian whose great uncle was Harvard's first mayor, worries that the surrounding towns are growing at Harvard's expense.

"That's where the shopping malls are, and, as a result, I think we're losing our businesses. The local hardware store here just recently closed down."

Keasling is concerned about other signs of change as well. Farm prices are depressed, causing younger people to leave the family farms and take jobs in Hastings and Grand Island, turning Harvard more and more into a bedroom community. Other Harvardians travel even farther afield. One of Keasling's grandsons is a professor at the University of California; another is a chemical engineer working in Kansas.

"But to me it's still a great little town. People are very friendly, and it's just a great place to live," Keasling says. As proof she cites a number of townspeople who have returned to Harvard after retiring from high-powered international careers.

In 1992 Keasling published a booklet about Harvard to commemorate the 50th anniversary of an important event in the town's history, the building of a U.S. Army airfield to train bomber crews for combat in World War II. The base provided a shot in the arm to the town's economy, which had suffered terribly through the Depression. But the boost was short-lived; the base was phased out after the war, and in 1983 a fire destroyed all but one of the remaining hangars.

Jim Bohart, vice president of the Harvard State Bank and president of the Harvard Community Foundation, shares Keasling's concern with the town's economy, but he is less concerned about the tendency of Harvardians to seek work elsewhere.

"The town has always been a little bit of a bedroom community. We've always had a percentage of the population driving into the larger towns to work."

But he admits there have been changes.

"You no longer see people coming into town on a Saturday night to sell cream and eggs and see a movie. The community is no longer a center of agricultural activity."

One consequence of the agricultural sector's decline is the tendency for young people who go off to college to stay away. There just isn't enough of a population to support very many professionals. Bohart himself is an exception, and only, he admits, because he married the boss's daughter. His wife's family has owned the Harvard State Bank since 1951. Chartered in 1903, the bank was the only one in Clay County to survive the Depression.

But despite its diminishing population, Harvard, Nebraska, like Harvard University, is becoming increasingly diverse. For many years Mexican-Americans have passed through Harvard as seasonal agricultural workers, but in recent years a few families have put down roots.

"Some of them have bought homes and are doing real well," Bohart says.

While Harvard's economic health may be fragile, Bohart has nothing but praise for its lifestyle.

"If you want to go to Broadway shows and live a life full of excitement and stimulation and always have everything you want right at your fingertips, it's probably not the place for you. But if you want to come home and sit on your porch with your family and grill a steak and talk to your neighbors, then it's just right."

Harvard University is, of course, much older than its Midwestern namesake. The University was already a venerable 237 years old when Harvard, Nebraska, was founded, but by now the town has acquired a patina of age as well. A few weeks ago, on Saturday, July 11, the town of Harvard celebrated its 125th anniversary with festivities that went on all afternoon and evening.

There were kids' games put on by a local anti-drug group called the CLOWNs (Children Learning Other Ways Naturally), a barbecue sponsored by the Harvard Lions Club (three hogs were donated by a pork producer in Hastings), and a variety show at which a member of the Modern Mrs. club sang "The Star-Spangled Banner," three seventh-grade girls did a hip-hop routine, and a family band performed some rock numbers.

The celebrations culminated with a dance featuring Blackberry Winter, "the Midwest's hottest horn band." Barfknecht, who reported on the day's events by phone, confided to us that the band, prior to its current incarnation, had undergone a hiatus of more than 20 years. Its members, who performed together in college, decided to resurrect their old ensemble and recently have been playing gigs in the Harvard area. Their repertoire includes tunes made famous by the group Chicago.

There was a serious side to the activities as well. The proceeds from the events will be used to build a new medical clinic. Unlike the University with its huge medical faculty, Harvard, Nebraska, does not have even one doctor to serve its population, and Harvardians have to drive 10 miles to Hastings for treatment. The success of the fundraiser should be a significant step toward solving this problem. Preliminary estimates show that between $7,000 and $8,000 was raised.

"I'm surprised it went as well as it did. I guess it's an example of what the people of a little town can do when they get together on something," Barfknecht says.

Barfknecht is living proof that the town of Harvard is not all about economic decline and population loss. He is one Harvardian who came and stayed. Born in Superior, Nebraska, near the Kansas border, he attended the University of Nebraska at Lincoln. The teaching post at Harvard was the first job offer he received out of college.

"If you had told me I would be here 22 years later, I would have said you were nuts. But it's a nice place to be."

Unlike Harvard University with its numerous departments, schools, and affiliates, Harvard, Nebraska's school system, comprising grades K-12, is small enough to fit into a single building. There are about 300 students and a faculty of 29.

As far as Barfknecht knows, there has never been a graduate of Harvard High School who has gone to Harvard College, but he remains hopeful. Meanwhile, it has become something of a standing joke for alumni of the high school to assure outsiders that they are indeed Harvard graduates.

But for Barfknecht, academics are no joke. As a social studies teacher, he tries to instill in his students an awareness of local history, of the vision, determination, and grit that have sustained the town for the past 125 years and will carry it into the future.

"As a teacher, I'd like to see us focus on our academic excellence, so we could say that the name really does stand for something."