Vampires: Their Undying Appeal

The following is excerpted from the introduction to LIFE’s new special issue Vampires: Their Undying Appeal, available at newsstands and online:

The most consequential night in the history of fright occurred in June of 1816 at Villa Diodati on the banks of Lake Geneva, where the Romantic poets Lord Byron and Percy Shelley were vacationing with Shelley’s 19-year-old fiancée, Mary Godwin, her half-sister Claire Clairmont, and Byron’s physician and traveling companion, John Polidori. Confined to their villa by two weeks of torrential rain, they began telling ghost stories to amuse themselves. Three years earlier, Byron had written “The Giaour,” a poem that warns of a corpse who, “as Vampyre sent,” is torn from its grave to “suck the blood of all thy race.” On this particular evening in Switzerland, he suggested that each traveler should produce a supernatural tale as entertainment for the others.

At midnight, Dr. Polidori recorded in his diary, as Mary nursed her four-month-old baby, the group “really began to talk ghostly. L[ord] B[yron] repeated some verses of Coleridge’s ‘Christabel,’ of the witch’s breast; when silence ensued, and Shelley, suddenly shrieking and putting his hands to his head, ran out of the room with a candle. Threw water in his face and gave him ether. He was looking at Mrs. S[helley], and suddenly thought of a woman he had heard of who had eyes instead of nipples, which, taking hold of his mind, horrified him.”

By the end of that “wet ungenial summer,” Mary Shelley had conceived the germ of Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818), and Polidori, then 20, completed The Vampyre, a short novel whose profound creative impact still endures in literature, theater, television, and film.

Polidori’s vampire, the rakish Lord Ruthven—said to be based on Byron himself—is an amoral debaucher of young women with a “dead grey eye” who stalks London, drinking the blood of his victims. The Vampyre was delivered to the Countess of Breuss and pretty much forgotten until the spring of 1819, when, amid Polidori’s acrimonious falling out with Byron, it was published in the New Monthly Magazine. To capitalize on Byron’s notoriety, the publisher released The Vampyre under Byron’s name. Polidori was outraged at this violation of his copyright. For his part, Byron disavowed authorship: “I have a personal dislike to Vampires, and the little acquaintance I have with them would by no means induce me to reveal their secrets.”

Translated quickly into French, The Vampyre appeared in Paris as a popular stage play and gave birth to so many imitations that a decade later a critic complained, “There is not a theatre in Paris without a vampire!”

Two centuries after The Vampyre hit the stands, we’re up to our necks in feral figures who prey on the living—or shrink from them. Of all supernatural monsters, none is as boldly erotic as the vampire, who more often than not takes control of victims. “Dominance and submission come together,” said Anne Rice, best known for her series of novels The Vampire Chronicles. The vampire must feed nightly, and he or she tends to attack his or her hosts when they’re most helpless—usually, when they’re asleep.

Stories about vampires have been circulating for thousands of years. Though just about every culture has showcased some form of vampire, anthropologists generally consider them a Slavic invention. They haunted the lore of Albania, where they were known as vurvulak; Bosnia (lampir); Croatia (vukodlak); and Montenegro (tenatz). Vampire comes from the old Slavic word obyrbi. “If anything unites the pre-Serbian undead, it would be the spreading of a mysterious plague,” said Al Ridenour, host of the podcast Bone and Sickle, a celebration of the intersection of horror, folklore, and history. “The sickness was not passed on necessarily by direct contact or bites but could be more of an evil miasma that accompanied the undead rising from the grave.” Plague survivors looking for a scapegoat would blame the first victim.

America’s own Vampire Panic in New England ran from the late 1700s to the late 1800s. Similar cases were documented in New Hampshire, Vermont, and Rhode Island, most linked to savage outbreaks of tuberculosis. In 1830, a “vampire heart” was reportedly torched on the town green of Woodstock, Vermont. In Manchester, New Hampshire, a 1793 heart-burning ceremony at a blacksmith’s forge drew hundreds of onlookers: “Timothy Mead officiated at the altar in the sacrifice to the Demon Vampire who it was believed was still sucking the blood of the then living wife of Captain Burton,” an early town history says. “It was the month of February and good sleighing.”

“The belief that circulated did not involve blood-drinking corpses, but the notion that those who had appeared to die of TB would live on in the grave, somehow feeding off the lives of those in the community in the process, causing them to succumb to the disease,” said Ridenour. There were at least 40 recorded instances in which corpses were exhumed, their vital organs burned, and stakes driven through their hearts. The most famous and possibly last of these was Mercy Brown.

During the 1880s, the town of Exeter, Rhode Island, was struck by an epidemic of consumption, as TB was then called. In 1883, Mary Eliza Brown died of the disease. Her oldest daughter, 20-year-old Mary Olive, died the following year. The entire town turned out for Mary Olive’s funeral and sang “One Sweetly Solemn Thought,” a hymn that she had picked out for the occasion. Not long after, the same illness struck Mary Olive’s 18-year-old brother Edwin, a strapping store clerk in excellent health. He left for Colorado Springs to take “the cure.”

In January 1892, Edwin’s 19-year-old sister Mercy Brown died. Then Edwin, having returned from Colorado Springs to Exeter “in a dying condition,” according to one newspaper account, took a turn for the worse. As he lingered on, a rumor gained purchase in the tight-knit farming community that the Brown family was cursed, and that one of the women was in fact not dead but secretly a vampire who was feasting “on the living tissue and blood of Edwin,” as the Providence Journal later put it. They persuaded the children’s father, George Brown, to allow the exhumation of all three bodies. Wielding shovels and pitchforks, a party of men went to the family burial plot in Chestnut Hill Cemetery and dug up the bodies. It was wintertime, and the remains of the long-dead Mary Eliza and Mary Olive were little more than bones. But the body of Mercy—who had died only a few months before and was kept mostly in a crypt above the ground—hadn’t much deteriorated. “The body was in a fairly well-preserved state,” the Journal’s correspondent wrote. “The heart and liver were removed, and in cutting open the heart, clotted and decomposed blood was found.”

Though the presiding physician noted the presence of “tuberculosis germs,” the villagers interpreted the presence of fresh blood as a sign that Mercy was undead. To stop members of her family from meeting the same vampiric fate, they gathered firewood and kindled a bonfire on a nearby rock. Then they cut out Mercy’s heart and lungs and burned them on the pyre. The ashes of her heart were brought back to the Brown homestead and mixed into a potion, which was fed to the ailing Edwin.

Evidently, the vampire remedy did little good: He died two months later.

Here are selected images from LIFE’s new special issue Vampires: Their Undying Appeal. Available here

Jeffrey Smith/Rapp Art

This 19th-century engraving showed men shooting a vampire with a stake already through his heart.

Leemage/Corbis/Getty

This 700-year-old skeleton from Bulgaria had its teeth removed and had been pinned down when it was buried out of a fear of vampirism.

Nikolay Doychinova/AFP/Getty

This 1781 painting by Henry Fuseli, `The Nightmare,’ was popular with the public and reproduced often in its day.

Oxford Science Archive/Print Collector/Getty

Vlad the Impaler, who lived in the 15th century and is shown here in a 16th century portrait, provided the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula.

Stefano Bianchetti/Corbis/Getty

Bela Lugosi starred in the title role in director Tod Browning’s 1931 film Dracula.

Universal/Kobal/Shutterstock

In the 1931 film `Dracula,’ the count (Bela Lugosi) met up with his nemesis, Van Helsing (Edward Van Sloan) .

Silver Screen Collection/Moviepix/Getty

Dracula drew crowds to the Stanley Theater in Jersey City, N.J. in 1931.

Courtesy Everett

`Dracula’ star Bela Lugosi, who played in other horror movies through the 1930s, made a sculpture of his own head, 1932.

Hulton/Getty

Grandpa (Al Lewis) and Eddie Wolfgang Munster (Butch Patrick) played vampires for laughs in the 1960s sitcom The Munsters.

Mary Evans/AF Archive/Everett

The vampire drama True Blood ran for seven seasons on HBO, from 2008 to 2014.

Alamy Stock Photo

In the comic 2015 movie Hotel Transylvania 2, the role of Dracula was voiced by Adam Sandler.

© Sony Pictures Releasing, Courtesy Photofest

Peanuts: The World’s Greatest Comic Strip

The following is excerpted from LIFE‘s new special issue Peanuts: The World’s Greatest Comic Strip, available at newsstands and here, online:

Over five decades of solitary and deeply personal work, Charles Schulz drew 17,897 Peanuts comic strips, producing a body of work that constitutes not only the richest achievement in comic strip history, but also the most resonant sports strip of all time. Thousands of Peanuts panels are filtered through Schulz’s love of sports, a collective subcategory that perhaps more than any other delivers the essence of his work.

The simple genius of Peanuts lies in Schulz’s ability to get to the heart of large matters (unrequited love, loneliness) and critical life questions (is there a Great Pumpkin?) through the lens of emotionally precocious children. The reason the sports stuff works so well is that sports, by and large, compels a part of us that has never grown up. In a strip drawn after the Giants’ narrow loss to the Yankees in the 1962 World Series, Charlie Brown and Linus sit silently and glumly on a curb for three frames. In the fourth Charlie Brown blurts out, “Why couldn’t McCovey have hit the ball three feet higher?” It’s a movable lament for baseball fans: Why couldn’t Buckner have fielded that ground ball in 1986? Why couldn’t Bartman have backed off in 2003?

The events and relationships in Peanuts are for the most part events and relationships distilled from Schulz’s life. (Not long after a phone bill reveals to Schulz’s wife, Joyce, that he is having an extramarital affair, Charlie Brown prevents Snoopy from canoodling with a girl beagle. “And no more long-distance phone calls!” Charlie Brown warns.) And that distillation holds true in the arena of sports. Active as an amateur hockey player and organizer, Schulz was inducted into the U.S. Hockey Hall of Fame in 1993. In Peanuts we see Snoopy at times as a goalkeeper and other times as a hard-checking skater doing battle with Woodstock on the frozen-over birdbath. Both of these players, it emerges, can also drive a Zamboni. Schulz’s father buried soup cans in the lawn so that young Charles could practice putting. Snoopy, in turn, plays the Masters and outdrives Sam Snead and Ben Hogan; Charlie Brown is his caddy. Schulz famously uses football as metaphor through action—Lucy yanked the pigskin away from Charlie Brown once a year, every year, from 1952 to 1999— and also through words: “I thought I had life solved,” Charlie Brown says, “but there was a flag on the play.”

No sport proves more present or more resonant than baseball. As a child, Schulz played on and ran a sandlot team, which preoccupied him. In one series of strips, Charlie Brown awakens to see the sun rising as a giant baseball. Next it’s the moon, then an ice cream cone that’s a ball. Finally, Charlie Brown develops a rash in the pattern of a hardball’s stitching on the back of his smooth, spherical head, leading him to a pediatrician. “Doctor, am I cracking up?” he asks. “Is it the bottom of the ninth?” On another occasion he loses a spelling bee after spelling maze “M-A-Y-S.”

For Charlie Brown, baseball is the end-all; he’s out pitching in deep snow and pelting rain. On the mound he gets undressed (literally) by opponents’ line drives. In the field he prays under a pop-up, then misses it. His failures lead to self-reflections and laments— “every now and then I am plagued by self-doubt”—but they are overcome by his unbeatable optimism. “This is the moment of moments,” Charlie Brown says, standing on the field, his glove on his hand, his face covered in bliss, “the beginning of a new season.”

For the others in the Peanuts gang—think of Lucy in right field with her umbrella, Snoopy at shortstop with his supper dish—baseball is folly. This may be Schulz’s most valuable lesson to the impressionable child: In the end, sports don’t matter all that much. In one strip, after Linus tells Charlie Brown that he has been “the victim of a short and sad love affair,” we see Linus under a fly ball. “I got it!” he shouts. “At least I think I’ve got it! Who knows? Actually who cares? When you’ve lost at love, you’ve lost at everything… Nothing matters.” The ball drops.

Only a small portion of Schulz’s work gets into his sports side, but those strips convey a lot about the Peanuts gang, as well as about ourselves as fans. Some of the best baseball strips are gathered into book collections, including 1977’s There Goes the Shutout. The title derives from a strip in which the team falls behind 63-0 in the first inning. On the bench afterward, Linus says to Charlie Brown, “Well, there goes our shutout.” The game itself, by implication, is still within reach.

Here are a few sample images from LIFE’s new Peanuts: The World’s Greatest Comic Strip, available here.

© 2021 Peanuts Worldwide LLC

Charles M. Schulz with a few of his Peanuts characters, including (on top of books) Lucy van Pelt and Charlie Brown, and below, from left, Linus (with blanket), Snoopy and Schroeder (at piano), in 1962.

CBS/Getty Images

The first frame of the first Peanuts comic strip, 1950.

© 2021 Peanuts Worldwide LLC

Snoopy, ever irreverent, took Linus’ blanket in this 1959 strip.

© 2021 Peanuts Worldwide LLC

In 1965 Snoopy first embarked on his writing career (above) and also began to take on the persona of a World War I flying ace.

© 2021 Peanuts Worldwide LLC

This discussion of clouds in 1960 proved to be one of Peanuts’ most popular strips.

© 2021 Peanuts Worldwide LLC

Peanuts’ strips about sports, such as this one from 1965, expertly touch on that part of ourselves that has never grown up.

© 2021 Peanuts Worldwide LLC

Charlie Brown and Linus spoke about the meaning of Christmas in the TV special A Charlie Brown Christmas.

Walt Disney Television/United Features/Getty Images

Snoopy starred in Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade in New York City in 2013.

Neilson Barnard/Getty Images

Margaret Severn: A Woman Who Really Knew How to Wear A Mask

If there’s one takeaway from Nina Leen’s photographs of dancer and choreorgrapher Margaret Severn, it is that a mask is the beginning of a costume, but not the end.

Severn was a master of the mask. She made her reputation performing masked dances at the Greenwich Village Follies, a downtown variation of the Ziegield Follies that ran from 1919 to 1927. Severn explained in the 1982 documentary Dance Masks: The World of Margaret Severn that those performances revived an ancient tradition that spanned centuries and cultures, but had fallen out of favor starting around the 18th century. “When I put them on they hadn’t been used for years in the theater, so this was called a complete novelty by some, those who didn’t know anything about the history of masks, and by others it was a renaissance of the art of the mask.”

In her performances, she said, she viewed the mask as a portal to a new identity. “The mask has this peculiar quality, as if it were inhabited by a disincarnated spirit of some sort, and when the dancer puts the mask on, he is possessed by this spirit and ceases to be himself, and so I just allowed that to happen with these masks that I wore,” she said.

She added that, “Each mask, in its particular feeling, usually finds some person, and perhaps many people, in the audience who respond to that particular emotion, who see themselves in that particular guise. I think that’s one reason they have such universal appeal.”

Severn and Leen met in 1940 to create this photoset, which focuses on Severn but also includes images of a group performance (it’s hard to identify Severn in those pictures because, well, everyone is masked). These pictures never ran in LIFE, and without any accompanying story or surviving photographer’s notes, it is hard to say precisely what inspired this collaboration at that particular moment. Regardless, the photos capture a master of a particular, and peculiar art.

Dancer Margaret Severn painted a mask that she used in her performances, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Margaret Severn painted a mask for a dance performance, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mask dancer Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mask dancer Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mask dancer Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mask Dancer Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mask dancer Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mask dancer Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mask dancer Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mask dancer Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mask dancer Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A mask dance choreographed and performed by Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A mask dance choreographed and performed by Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A mask dance choreographed and performed by Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A mask dance choreographed and performed by Margaret Severn, 1940.

Nina Leen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Before Harley Quinn, This Harlequin Made the Cover of LIFE

These days the most popular Halloween costume for girls has been Harley Quinn, thanks to the DC Comics character’s appearances in fourteen live and animated movies since 2013.

But decades before Harley was drawn into its existence, her forebear character, Harlequin, appeared on the cover of LIFE, as part of a photo story on Broadway actors donning costumes for their dream roles. The character of Harlequin had been a particular fascination for actress Gwen Verdon, a musical comedy legend and the winner of four Tony Awards.

Harlequin was a comic character from the Italian commedia dell’arte of the 16th century. While that original character was male, he and Harley Quinn share a common DNA which shows through in many ways, from costuming to a reputation for trickery.

In the April 14, 1958 issue of LIFE, Verdon explained the appeal of playing Harlequin, which included the character’s infatuation with another character from the commedia dell’arte, the mischievous maid Columbine:

“Harlequin is a well-rounded, sensitive person,” says Gwen. “His love for Columbine—especially when she breaks his heart—makes a man of him. He’s transformed by suffering. The twirl of blue paper in his eye represents tears. The flower on his nose is a symbol of unattainable beauty—like Columbine. He hunts for it everywhere, not realizing it is right in front of him. Whenever I get a new part, I always stop and ask myself how Harlequin would do it. It’s helped me a lot.”

The concept of actors playing their dream roles was one LIFE would revisit. Five years later LIFE asked film actors to dress up for their dream roles, and the resulting story featured Paul Newman as a swashbuckling Douglas Fairbanks Jr., Cary Grant as Charlie Chaplin, Rock Hudson as Dr. Jekyll and more.

Gwen Verdon as Harlequin on the April 14, 1958 cover of LIFE.

Photo by Eliot Elisofon/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Gwen Verdon in her dream role of Harlequin, 1958.

Photo by Eliot Elisofon/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Gwen Verdon in her dream role of Harlequin, 1958.

Photo by Eliot Elisofon/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Gwen Verdon in her dream role of Harlequin, 1958.

Photo by Eliot Elisofon/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Gwen Verdon in her dream role of Harlequin, 1958.

Photo by Eliot Elisofon/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A Baseball Photographer With a Wandering Eye

John Olson was not much of a baseball fan. The LIFE photographer was better known for images of the Vietnam War and the American counterculture, so when he ended up in the middle of another piece of history, the Miracle Mets’ 1969 season, on an assignment to cover the MLB playoffs, he didn’t particularly appreciate the magic of the moment, to put it mildly. “I was bored,” he said recently about shooting the National League Championship Series in which Tom Seaver’s New York Mets swept the Atlanta Braves and Hank Aaron to advance to the World Series. “The most memorable thing about that assignment was that I was hit by a foul ball. I was in the press box.”

But the thing about it is, Olson’s lack of interest in the game itself produced a set of photos with its own kind of value a half-century removed from the moment. In the search for something that interested him, his eye ranged widely, and as a result his 494 images that reside in LIFE archives give a broad sense of what it was actually like to be in attendance at these historic games.

LIFE ran the story in its Oct. 17, 1969 issue, and Olson’s photos were paired with drawings by cartoonist Mort Gerberg in a feature titled “What Really Happened When a Very Nice Team From Atlanta Encountered a Force Known as the New York Mets.” While Olson doesn’t remember much about the terms of the original assignment, the result suggests that editors from the outset wanted more than straightforward game reportage. That’s how you end up with pictures like the ones Olson took of the boy outfitted for the game in his jacket, tie and baseball glove, yawning as he waits for a foul ball. Or of the man who played Chief Noc-a-Homa, the Braves’ long-since phased-out mascot, sitting in the dugout in glasses while waiting for a chance to set aside his spectacles and take to the field for a celebratory home run dance. Or shots of the funny signs that were on display at Shea Stadium in New York.

Baseball fans would give their eyeteeth to have been at these games; Olson’s images put viewers inside the stadium, head on a swivel.

A fan waited for a foul ball to come his way during the National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Atlanta’s Sonny Jackson took batting practice before a playoff game against the New York Mets, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Casey Stengel, the first manager in franchise history, was on hand to watch the Mets in the playoffs, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between the New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Hank Aaron was welcomed home by his Braves teammates during the National League playoffs against the New York Mets, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The Braves’ mascot, Chief Noc-a-Homa, in the dugout during a playoff game against the New York Mets, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Chief Noc-A-Homa, the Atlanta mascot, performed a celebratory dance during a playoff game against the New York Mets, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A successful pickoff during the National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A successful pickoff during the National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Second baseman Ken Boswell of the New York Mets tried to tag out Orlando Cepeda of the Atlanta Braves during a playoff game in Atlanta, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Tommie Agee of the New York Mets greeted his teammate Cleon Jones at home plate after they both scored during a playoff game against the Atlanta Braves at Fulton County Stadium, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

The National League playoffs between New York Mets and Atlanta Braves, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A view of the Braves dugout after losing a playoff game against the New York Mets, 1969.

John Olson/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

“Fluttery in the Stomach”: Capturing The First Weeks of College

Headed off to college is a life adventure like no other. In 1951 LIFE chronicled that experience through the eyes of Mary Lloyd-Rees, a first-year student at Wellesley College, an all-girls school in Massachusetts. Photographer Lisa Larsen followed Lloyd-Rees as she said goodbye to her father, decorated her room, met new people, and learned to manage life on her own. “I felt fluttery in the stomach,” said Lloyd-Rees of those first days. “It was like going to the doctor’s.”

LIFE’s story, titled “Mary Goes to College,” appeared in the October 15, 1951 issue, which featured actress Zsa Zsa Gabor on the cover. If Lloyd-Rees felt comfortable sharing those first college days with a nation of LIFE readers, it may have been because she had some experience living away from home. Her father had the unusual occupation of managing a sugar plantation in Cuba, and Ms. Lloyd-Rees spent her high school years at a boarding school in Virginia.

Still, that didn’t mean she was immune to the shock of going off to college. One of Larsen’s photos shows Lloyd-Rees alone in her bedroom, hugging her pillow for comfort. Lloyd-Rees assured LIFE readers that the lonely moment, from her first night at school, passed quickly: “I put on my Mario Lanza records and felt better.”

Soon the fun began. Larsen’s photos show Lloyd-Rees biking around campus, posing with friends, going out for ice cream, picking out songs on a juke box, and even going on her first date, with a friend of her brother’s who was a law student at nearby Harvard. LIFE reported that Lloyd-Rees and her friends had fun educating each other on the latest slang expressions, such as “in the valise” (drunk) and “does he have a message?” (which LIFE translated as does he really send you?).

While much of the story focussed on Lloyd-Rees’ life transition, it also noted that after two weeks of school, with homework starting to pile up, “Mary opened up her library books, and, knitting her brow, took stock of the hard work that lay ahead of her in the next four years.”

Lloyd-Rees did go on to graduate from Wellesley with a degree in history. Her 2008 obituary described an active life that included becoming a mother of four, running her church’s Christmas pageant and serving on the national board of the Girl Scouts, and it featured a photo of the mature Lloyd-Rees with a smile much like the one she showed in LIFE, when she was just starting out.

Freshman Mary Lloyd-Rees said goodbye to her father on her dormitory porch at Wellesley, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Freshman Mary Lloyd-Rees examined her room after arriving at Wellesley in 1951.

.Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Freshman Mary Lloyd-Rees hung college banners in her room at Wellesley, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mary Lloyd-Rees had a moment of loneliness after arriving at Wellesley for her freshman year, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Freshman Mary Lloyd-Rees and her new friends posed on the Wellesley campus, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

A Wellesley freshman arrived with a stuffed friend, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mary Lloyd-Rees, standing, got to know fellow Wellesley first-year student Hsio-Yen Shih of Formosa, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mary Lloyd-Rees and friends strolled the Wellesley campus, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Harvard students examined a Wellesley student directory to determine which girl to ask out, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Ice cream time for Wellesley first year students, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Ice cream time for Wellesley first-year students, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Wellesley freshmen in their first days at school, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Freshman Mary Lloyd-Rees imitated her French teacher by pronouncing vowel sounds.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mary Lloyd-Rees spoke with a teacher in her first days at Wellesley, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Wellesley freshman Mary Rees-Lloyd studied in a university library.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Wellesley freshmen, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Freshman Mary Lloyd-Rees stopped to put her books in a basket as she bicycled around the Wellesley campus, 1951.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

Mary Rees-Lloyd’s first date as a Wellesley student was with Ted Buck, a Harvard law student and a former roommate of her brother; they mostly spent the date walking around campus.

Lisa Larsen/Life Pictures/Shutterstock

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