A Badger's Den
Trinkets, tchotchkes, knickknacks, do-dads: whatever you call these heaps of UW memorabilia, in Dave Vitale's hands, they turn into a history of Badger athletics.
In a hole in the ground there lives a badger.
Well, not lives so much as resides, technically. And not really a badger, but rather a vast and teeming jumble of them: a host of Buckys in all forms, as well as a few examples of his unofficial sweetheart, Becky Badger.
And for that matter, hole in the ground is a little misleading, considering this is really a basement underneath a red-and-white cottage in Watertown, Wisconsin.
"It really is red-and-white," says Dave Vitale '90, MS'98. "I tell people that, and they think I'm a total nut. But it's actually cedar, so it's not all that outrageous."
Vitale is the owner of the cottage and the basement underneath, and the badgers that reside there, or you might say the aggregate Bucky, tell a long and meandering life story, the history of UW-Madison athletics.
Like the cedar cottage, Vitale isn't the sort of person you'd suspect of possessing hundreds of relics of Badger lore. In his spare time, he's the curriculum director for the Watertown School District, and he's working on finishing his doctorate at UW-Madison's School of Education. But his real passion plays out in that basement. Vitale is the owner and curator of what may be the largest private museum of Wisconsin Badger paraphernalia.
And so is his wife, Jill '88. "Whether she likes it or not," he adds. "Though you'll notice that the collection is in the basement, not the living room."
At first glance, the array of Badger stuff in Vitale's basement — not just the multitude of images of Buckingham U. Badger, but the pennants, programs, tickets, buttons, jerseys, sweaters, and helmets, as well as many vast and varied objects that sometimes defy description, if not interpretation — may seem like a heap of junk. And so perhaps you're thinking this is just another Badger room, like the one your crazy Uncle Harvey in Stratford has. Not so. What elevates Vitale's collection from mere pack-rattery into the lofty realm of museum is one thing: research. Vitale is is almost diagnosably compulsive about his research.
"I'm sure a psychoanalyst could have a field day with this," he says.
And so is his wife, Jill '88. "Whether she likes it or not," he adds. "Though you'll notice that the collection is in the basement, not the living room."
At first glance, the array of Badger stuff in Vitale's basement — not just the multitude of images of Buckingham U. Badger, but the pennants, programs, tickets, buttons, jerseys, sweaters, and helmets, as well as many vast and varied objects that sometimes defy description, if not interpretation — may seem like a heap of junk. And so perhaps you're thinking this is just another Badger room, like the one your crazy Uncle Harvey in Stratford has. Not so. What elevates Vitale's collection from mere pack-rattery into the lofty realm of museum is one thing: research. Vitale is is almost diagnosably compulsive about his research.
"I'm sure a psychoanalyst could have a field day with this," he says.
Vitale doesn't take simply any Badger item and add it to his basement. He analyzes each object he acquires. He classifies it, dates it, and works out its potential significance in the storied — if often inglorious — history of UW sports. Some of the stuff, such as the plastic, helmet-shaped lamps, may lack possess neither aesthetic beauty nor historical significance. But many of the items bear witness to a time when artistry was meant to infuse everyday life. Football game programs from the 1920s include fashionable illustrations of willowy students; the program covers from the 1940s often mimic the style of Norman Rockwell. "Even the tickets were mini works of art in those days," says Vitale.
Heaps of History
"See this cover?" Vitale points to a football program from 1930. "It's the first to show the Field House, which had just been completed. You'll see that the W crest isn't on there. And this," he says, pulling a cassette tape from a drawer, "is a recording of a conversation I had with a man who played in the first basketball game ever held in the Field House."
He points to a letter on the wall. "This is from Pat O'Dea, the Kangaroo Kicker. He wrote it in the 1960s, just before he died, and in it he describes games against Minnesota from 1897 and 1899, in which he kicked a 60-yard dropkick field goal and a 110-yard punt — a curious accomplishment, considering that a football field is only 100 yards long."
On a shelf is a board game inspired by and named for Walter Meanwell, who coached the Badger men's basketball team to eight Big 10 titles between 1912 and 1924. "We have every piece except the ball," says Vitale. "My daughters and I tried to play once, but it's kind of hard."
A sweater in one corner, with 1953 across the chest, has the name Anders Birkeland ('56, LLB'61) stitched inside. A blanket tossed over a chair belonged to Mary Hammes '25, PhD'37 when she was a student. There are hand-made pennants and century-old posters of Badger stars and signed game balls. Most of the items have to do with football, but almost all UW sports are represented, as are the occasional academic item: a photo of his grandfather's dairy science class, and, somewhere, his own diplomas.
He points to a letter on the wall. "This is from Pat O'Dea, the Kangaroo Kicker. He wrote it in the 1960s, just before he died, and in it he describes games against Minnesota from 1897 and 1899, in which he kicked a 60-yard dropkick field goal and a 110-yard punt — a curious accomplishment, considering that a football field is only 100 yards long."
On a shelf is a board game inspired by and named for Walter Meanwell, who coached the Badger men's basketball team to eight Big 10 titles between 1912 and 1924. "We have every piece except the ball," says Vitale. "My daughters and I tried to play once, but it's kind of hard."
A sweater in one corner, with 1953 across the chest, has the name Anders Birkeland ('56, LLB'61) stitched inside. A blanket tossed over a chair belonged to Mary Hammes '25, PhD'37 when she was a student. There are hand-made pennants and century-old posters of Badger stars and signed game balls. Most of the items have to do with football, but almost all UW sports are represented, as are the occasional academic item: a photo of his grandfather's dairy science class, and, somewhere, his own diplomas.
Though the room looks like a jumble, Vitale can easily find every exhibit in his private museum, and he can give a brief history lesson for most of them . Still, if there's an organizing principle, it exists only in Vitale's mind, and it must contend with family issues: his daughters, Ellen and Claire, are six and three. To them, no matter how historic a stuffed Bucky Badger is supposed to be, it's still a toy. "I wouldn't say everything's fixed just perfectly in place," he says. But letting his daughters play among the plush badgers is part of including them in his passion. After all, that's more or less how he got his start.
Badger Beginnings
Vitale has been surrounded by Badger paraphernalia all his life, but at first that was mor due to circumstance than choice. His grandfather was a 1917 graduate, but more importantly, while Vitale was growing up, his family lived on Madison's Baltzell Street, not far from Camp Randall Stadium. With so much Badger stuff around, especially every Saturday, it simply started to take over Vitale's natural inclinations.
"I've always been a saver," he says, "and I've always been interested in history. But I didn't really put those things together for a long while. There was no real impetus to build a collection like this. Then, maybe ten years ago, I began researching and I was fascinated."
And it's the research that makes the collection both historically intriguing and personally satisfying. When Vitale pulls out an ancient leather football from the UW's 1922 game against the University of Chicago, he can tell you that the Badgers had battled to a 0-0 tie that day. But he also knows that the game was played on the day after his father was born.
"When my father is here, I can say, ‘Hey, Dad, see that ball? You're older than it is,'" he says.
"I've always been a saver," he says, "and I've always been interested in history. But I didn't really put those things together for a long while. There was no real impetus to build a collection like this. Then, maybe ten years ago, I began researching and I was fascinated."
And it's the research that makes the collection both historically intriguing and personally satisfying. When Vitale pulls out an ancient leather football from the UW's 1922 game against the University of Chicago, he can tell you that the Badgers had battled to a 0-0 tie that day. But he also knows that the game was played on the day after his father was born.
"When my father is here, I can say, ‘Hey, Dad, see that ball? You're older than it is,'" he says.
In 1997, when Vitale moved to Watertown, he began transferring his collection out of boxes an putting it on display in the basement, because, he says, "I guess I needed a rationale for my lunacy." But the lunacy only grew more serious. He began to expand his search, cruising estate sales and auctions and making contacts with antique dealers. "There's a guy named Dave in Evansville who keeps an eye out for me. And sometimes folks who visit my Web site give me a tip."
He continues to add a couple of pieces to the collection every month, from leather football helmets and sideline capes to sheet music from such school songs as "Cardinal Loyalty" (copyright 1916) and "Wisconsin Sue" (circa 1920). And now visitors don't just drop by his Web site, www.randallcamp.com, but every few weeks, one will come by his house. "They like to see the stuff for themselves," Vitale says. "And some just want to discuss their own memories."
Vitale's basement museum has only about three hundred square feet of floor space, and he says that he has enough stuff in storage to fill another room. However, he doesn't intend to expand. The Badger collection, he says, doesn't need to be part of the neighborhood. "I do try to be tasteful."
He continues to add a couple of pieces to the collection every month, from leather football helmets and sideline capes to sheet music from such school songs as "Cardinal Loyalty" (copyright 1916) and "Wisconsin Sue" (circa 1920). And now visitors don't just drop by his Web site, www.randallcamp.com, but every few weeks, one will come by his house. "They like to see the stuff for themselves," Vitale says. "And some just want to discuss their own memories."
Vitale's basement museum has only about three hundred square feet of floor space, and he says that he has enough stuff in storage to fill another room. However, he doesn't intend to expand. The Badger collection, he says, doesn't need to be part of the neighborhood. "I do try to be tasteful."
