Why I care about Memorial Stadium — and why you should too

By Mike Stanton

Sometimes, in journalism, you find a story so interesting, so worthy of being told, that it becomes an obsession. And sometimes, that story finds you.

I was at a student senate meeting last spring when this story found me. Back then, I was well aware of Memorial Stadium’s existence. I walked past it almost every day. I’d tossed a football around on the field a few times, and rehearsed a homecoming chant in the bleachers my freshman year. I thought it was a neat-looking building, and I often wondered what it must have been like to watch a game there.

But, like most students, I was entirely naive to the stadium’s true purpose. I usually called it Old Stadium, and I was only vaguely aware that it was a war memorial. If pressed, I probably would have guessed World War II. I certainly didn’t know anything about the men it was built to honor, or the circumstances that surrounded its construction and later doomed its mission.

That all changed when Jed Dunham showed up to speak in the open period of that meeting. Jed is a laid-back, long-haired lacrosse enthusiast with a magnetic personality. Now, we were used to folks from all walks on campus coming in to address the student leadership, and usually regarded them with polite, but not exactly thorough, attention. As soon as Jeb started speaking, I noticed something different. Every single face in the room, bar none, was locked on his. You could feel the passion he had for this endeavor filling the room, as if you could reach out and touch it.

He told us about the Great War, the one that was supposed to be a war to end all wars. He told us about the countless young men, college students no different from us, whose lives were interrupted, and the 48 from K-State who laid theirs down. He told us about how the community and the college joined forces to create a fitting tribute, one that students for generations could use and enjoy and remember their fallen brothers as they did. He told us about the Great Depression, and later the second World War, that derailed the project before it could be finished. He told us about the dusty bronze plaque that said “Lest we forget,” and he told us the hard-to-swallow truth: We’d forgotten.

But the story of Memorial Stadium isn’t done being written yet. Behind people like Dunham, who packed his bags and moved from New Hampshire back to Manhattan to be the standard bearer, an effort is underway to rekindle the memorial aspect of the old limestone arena.

The bumps in the road of history prevented the stadium from being dedicated when it was built in the 1920s, but plans are in the works to hold a dedication ceremony in April of 2017, the 100th anniversary of American involvement in World War One. It wasn’t quite how they drew it up back then, but dedicating it now gives the students of today a unique opportunity to be a part of our campus and national history. In fact, in many ways, it’s especially appropriate to dedicate it nearly a century late. It means, to some extent, we’ve succeeded: we haven’t quite forgotten. And it gives us the opportunity to be more conscious and aware of the stadium as a tribute to our colleagues from a different age, and not just as that old stadium.

On behalf of our team, I encourage you to follow along with us as we tell the fascinating story of Memorial Stadium and its place on campus. We’ll update this blog a few times a week, and we’ll tweet from @ksu_memorial regularly. By the end of the semester, we’ll have a multimedia website featuring articles, videos, photos and graphics. We’d love to have your help spreading the word and circulating this story. If you feel, as we do, that it’s important to know and appreciate our history and Memorial Stadium’s mission, tell your friends about this project and share our content on social media and in group chats. Let’s honor the 48 K-Staters who gave their life for their country so long ago, and show them that they’re not forgotten.