From Winthrop College's 1930 yearbook.

From Junior English in Action 3 by J. C. Tressler and illustrated by A. B. Savrann, 1937.

From Park College's 1914 yearbook.

From Colorado State University's 1903 yearbook.

From the New Yorker, Jan-Mar 1927.

A humanoid book that stamps the letter K onto exams.  From Washington State University's 1947 yearbook.

The first step toward being a walking encyclopedia: a walking dictionary.  From Arkansas Polytechnic College's 1925 yearbook.

From West Virginia Wesleyan College's 1918 yearbook.

From the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill's 1917 yearbook.

Rare to see a boxing book.  The students aren't afraid of being knocked out, though -- they're afraid of paper cuts.  From Indiana University's 1895 yearbook. 

What we call a book's "spine" is actually its face.  From Lenoir-Rhyne's 1915 yearbook.

You noticed how dumbed-down movies are, and here's why -- the dictionary ran out in 1934.  In case viewers couldn't follow the simple statement, both the projection room and dictionary are labeled.  The artist put the book title on the back cover.  From The Film Daily, 1934.

You've heard of a "walking encyclopedia," but have you ever seen a walking set of encyclopedias?  From Le Charivari, 1848.

Thanks to author W. D. Clarke for calling us "encyclopedic."

Speaking of walking encyclopedias, a few years ago we noted how we too often forget that even zombies were once better read than dead.  A crucial example is an article in a 1905 issue of Windsor magazine, in which the first example of a "walking encyclopaedia" is technically deceased.  Over the years, ravenousness for knowledge, even from beyond the grave, became equated with a base hunger for brains.  Alas, it's all indicative of the "dumbing down" of popular culture.