While many of you have worked for The Sun sometime within the last 125 years, and all of you have presumably read at least a couple issues, I’m quite sure that most of you don’t really know exactly what goes on at 139 W. State St. five nights a week.

In the newspaper business, where each day holds the latent possibility that something right around the corner could change the course of history, 125 years is a considerable period of time. The Cornell Daily Sun’s birthday — September 16, 1880 — is of another era, a time before 9/11, Vietnam, Kennedy, the Cold War or World War II entered into our vernacular. A time before our great national fears of Communism, Fascism or terrorism dictated our foreign policy. An idealized view of 125 years ago paints a simpler time when people were more eloquent and diplomatic, uncompromising in their morals but willing to employ statesmanship when needed. Perhaps it is collective memory that looks back on the days of yore with a hint of longing. But herein lies the necessity for newspapers — archives serve as living records and offer a snapshot of life in another time, sifting the idealized version of history from the truth. As we turn 125 years old today, we cannot help but note how tethered The Sun’s own history and coverage is to Cornell and world history. This is both exciting and humbling, as our archives may serve future generations as clues to how we lived from1880 up to the present day.

The following is a memoir from George Beebe 1882, a member of  The Sun’s first editorial board. First appearing in 1930 in A Half- Century at Cornell, Beebe’s memoir recalls those early days that were brimming with uncertainty and excitement at the fledgling newspaper.

I really don’t feel comfortable writing this column. What right do I have to assume the role of Sun historian? The Sun is big, much bigger than myself. The day that I was brought into the world, Cornell students were busy editing articles and putting the paper out. Those guys should either be 42 or dead by now.

The following passage is reprinted from A Century at Cornell and is a speech that former Sun Associate Editor Kurt Vonnegut ’44 gave at The Sun’s traditional end-of-year banquet on May 3, 1980. Vonnegut’s speech highlights The Sun’s flirtation with national news and events.

It is difficult to understand the reasoning which went into the University’s action barring drinking in Schoellkopf stadium. Indeed, the motivation, the timing, the method of formulation and the construction of the order seem entirely out of keeping with the liberal aims of the Administration.

As an antidote to the celebratory and self-congratulatory rhetoric that inevitably saturates newspaper anniversary editions, consider this top-ten list of the most surreal moments in The Sun’s behind-the-scenes history:

Of all the courses of action which have been available to Japan, she has, from the point of view of her own interests, chosen the most foolish one. In no conceivable way could Japan have more completely insulted American pride, more thoroughly aroused American anger, more instantaneously produced a condition of complete unity of thought and purpose in the United States than by an unprovoked, unannounced attack upon Hawaii, America’s foremost naval and air base in the Pacific.