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Life in Collins becomes a haven for a wanderer

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ibbles sat quietly, his dirty brown fur illuminated by the dusty pink light that hangs in the air of women's dorm rooms on sunny days. He didn't know that fiendish kidnappers were plotting his demise that very moment.

The air swirled violently as a tall figure in a pink plaid suit burst into the room, sweeping the helpless teddy bear from the comfort of its owner's bed pillows. Moments later, while Tibbles sat blindfolded in a Collins Living-Learning Center dorm room nearby, plaid-suited and grinning Rich Remsburg prepared the ransom note.

When the ransom deadline passed unresolved that evening, Remsburg donned his dark glasses and solemnly carried Tibbles out to the square in front of Collins. After a brief ceremony, he hoisted the teddy bear to the top of the flag pole while fellow kidnappers snapped photos.

Remsburg is not your average student, but then Collins is not your average dormitory. Students consider Collins a laughing, roaring conflagration of homosexuals, punks, artsy-types and future politicians secure within their umbrella of Bohemian camaraderie. Collins also is a sanctuary for intellectuals, journalists and a varied collection of bright and articulate future world-changers. "Collins people" are a socially conscientious lot always ready to square off on issues, especially while eating. Not too long ago, a dining hall debate erupted over how to pronounce "syrup." Gradually, the conversation evolved into a shouting match about the role of women as prostitutes during the height of Nazi expansionism, and how that is related to the changing role of women from housewives to career persons.

Remsburg sat watching the debate fiasco, which he had started then backed out of. "I can't remember having this much fun with my clothes on," he said as he turned to a student he had just met.

Remsburg stands out as an individualist among individualists. He is a philosopher-

clown who just might be a famous American someday, but he doesn't much care. "He's a modern day Thoreau," said a fellow Collins person. "But I'll bet he's a lot more fun than Thoreau ever was."

Remsburg began his career as a musician in the streets of Chicago where he played his sister's guitar for quarters at lunch time. By seventh grade, he had started his own country-western band. Soon, he began playing with his group and solo throughout the Midwest. "People were starting to say I was pretty good, but I wasn't satisfied," he said. "All I was doing was imitating my heroes in front of people who had never heard my heroes play."

He began experimenting with arcane instruments — such as the hammered dulcimer, also known as the lumberjack's piano, and the autoharp — at about the same time he graduated from high school in Evanston, Ill. Then he came to IU—and didn't like it. "I've always been an independent person, and so if a teacher gave me an assignment that was stupid, I just wouldn't do it," he said.

Disillusioned by being "ordered around" and disappointed with the progress of his musical career, Remsburg dropped out of college to travel the country singing his songs and telling his stories. Sometimes he was alone, and at other times with folktale legends, such as Utah Phillips.

After living on the road with "some mighty good people" for a year, Remsburg is back in Collins, but he still performs every chance he gets. He plays regularly at campus spots such as Kiva, and he expected to be at Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, Va., this summer.

At Collins, Remsburg likes to sit around the fireplace on Sunday evenings and tell of people he met on the road — stories of Verna Mae and Uncle Ralph and Leslie's outhouse.

While traveling in every state except Hawaii, North Dakota, Alaska and Maine, he often slept on the ground or in his pup tent by railroad tracks. He said he met many people who had few material things such as inside toilets, fancy cars and televisions. At IU, "materialism is rampant," he said.

"If you live with the hill people, you learn to buy the things you need," he said. "I see people here buying 50 pair of sweat pants so they can put little letters across their butt. If they had any sense, they'd just buy a warm pair of shoes and a good warm coat."

When he is on stage, all he has to do is be himself, talk about what he thinks about and play what he likes to play, and the crowd gets teary-eyed.

One night at Kiva, Remsburg had just finished singing "I'm Banjo Sam." As he kept picking his banjo in the dimly lit room, he began to tell this story. "And one night, we went back to the creek behind Leslie's house about midnight to paddle down to where the beavers lived," he said as he continued to play softly on his banjo. "It was so nice. The stars were so bright, and the water was so still and pure that you could actually see the constellations in the water...."

To the audience, Remsburg was standing right in front of them, but a few close friends knew the dark-eyed folk singer had again escaped to another place, another time.

Story by Scott Wade Photos by Kent Phillips

THEODORE BOWIE

Appreciating beauty is his art's desire

H is life sounds like something from a novel.

Born in Japan. Educated in France. Ph.D. from Berkeley. A career that took him around the world and brought him in contact with princes and celebrated scholars.

But while his career may sound romantic, Theodore Bowie, professor emeritus of fine arts, said hard work lay behind his success.

Bowie was born in Nagasaki, Japan, in 1905 to an American father and a Russian mother, and he spent eight years as a schoolboy in France before coming to the United States.

When he started college, he planned to enter the foreign service upon graduation; he majored in political science and obtained a master's degree in international law.

But when Bowie completed his Ph.D. at Berkeley in 1935, his dissertation was not on international affairs but on the interrelatedness between art and 19th century French literature.

As he was finishing his dissertation, Bowie was offered the opportunity to run a new exhibition gallery on the Berkeley campus. He accepted, and his success there led him to change his mind about his career choice. In 1936, he applied for admission to the museum course taught at Harvard University by Professor Paul J. Sachs.

But it wasn't easy to find a suitable job in the museum world at that time, Bowie said. After leaving Harvard in 1937, he returned to teaching French; in the next 13 years, he taught French at four universities and colleges.

A phone call from Henry Hope, chairman of IU's fine arts department, brought Bowie here. Since 1950, he has worn a number of hats: professor of art history; fine arts librarian; graduate advisor in art history; organizer of the arts administration program and chairman of the department.

Before the opening of the Art Museum, the fine arts department had held some 600 shows, many of which were prepared elsewhere, Bowie said. Preparing in-house shows seemed to be the next logical step.

Over 25 years, Bowie created about 30 such shows — two-thirds of which had Oriental themes. He said the University's support of art exhibitions allowed personal contact with works which might otherwise be seen only through slides.

Bowie said the most spectacular of his Oriental shows was the "Arts of Thailand," which opened in October 1960 with great fanfare. The show opened in three IU buildings because the fine arts gallery was too small to hold it; 350 works were borrowed from a nation that had never participated in an international art exhibition. The opening was attended by the Thai ambassador to the United States, and the show traveled throughout the U.S., Japan and Europe. "One Thousand Years of Chinese Painting," "East-West in Art" and "Japanese Drawings" are among other shows Bowie considers his most important.

In addition to producing art shows, Bowie has written or edited books, including "The Drawings of Hokusai" and "The Sketchbook of Villard de Honnecourt."

He also organized the first symposium on erotic art ever, along with Cornelia Christenson of the Kinsey Institute. Bowie and Christenson co-edited the papers given at the meeting.

But Bowie said the book which gave him the greatest satisfaction was an edition of the letters of Langdon Warner, a famous Asian explorer who had been his teacher at Harvard.

Bowie retired in 1976, but he continues to teach a course every year and work on his research. In May 1984, IU awarded him the honorary degree Doctor of Fine Arts. "I was privileged to have one of the most satisfying careers imaginable," he said.

Sandy Causey

He'd like to teach the world to sing

ttT

here comes a time when you've got to slow down, but I haven't seen it yet," said Everett Bradley, sitting down for a rare moment of rest.

For the 22-year-old senior, that time may never come. "I've had a hard time saying no to anyone," he said.

In Everett's years at IU, his near inability to say no has become evident. It seems as if he is a one-man show on campus — active in IU Sing, Singing Hoosiers and a band; singing the national anthem at Mini 5 and Little 500 and making commericals — in addition to attending music education classes. "But that's the way I want it," he said. "I'd be bored doing nothing. "I guess I do all these activities because I enjoy them. But I want to be totally marketable — ready to jump into anything."

He just doesn't know what he wants to jump into. "I've thought about teaching, but it would have to be in a high school for the performing arts. But I'll probably change my mind in a month." Then after a pause, he said, "I'll teach. I know I will."

Everett came here after graduating from Muncie North High School because IU "was known as a good music school. It's more than a good music school. "I've had chances here that I'd never have anywhere alse, both good and bad. I have the attitude that anything's gonna make me better, or at least 'Now I know.' It's corny, but it's true." "He said finding the good in almost anything applies to music. "Music is one of the most beautiful ways of interpreting anything. It's constant. A car putting down the street can be, and is, music."

Bradley seems always to be moving, snapping, tapping or otherwise reacting to something that beats within him. "I really love expressing song through movement. It feels so good, so natural."

Bradley sings, dances and plays keyboards, piano, drums, percussion and saxophone. He choreographs and arranges for the Singing Hoosiers and also choregraphed Willkie Quad's winning number in the 1984 IU Sing.

He uses his talent in summer jobs as well. Three summers ago, he worked at a resort in Michigan, singing and waiting tables in a format designed to showcase individuals as well as an entire group. All singers waited tables and then sang when it was their cue.

In the summer of 1983, he worked at Dill's Olde Town Saloon in Traverse City, Mich. It was the first time he found himself arranging, choreographing and putting together a whole show. "It opened the door," he said. "Now I'm not afraid to do anything. I know I can do it."

Then last summer he worked at American Cabaret Theater in French Lick, Ind., in a review of music that spanned 100 years. He sang slavery songs and blues, and did imitations of black singers. Theater representatives had seen him in IU Sing and had offered him the job.

He also has performed at several local nightspots with a band, Tight Squeeze. The band also performed at Mini 500. After being with the band for two months, Bradley said he likes the experience and could see himself as a rock star.

Still, he calls himself a "jack of all trades, but king of none, to be cliched."

He recently got more instrumental experience at IU Sing this year. Instead of being master of ceremonies for a third year, Bradley played in the pit with the band. "I have such a greater appreciation of instrumentalists now. They have to make the singer look good, no matter what. "It's given me a better look at the behind-the-scenes and maybe not being able to do exactly what you want to do," he said.

There are still musical genres Bradley would like to get into. "I'd like to do an opera— just to say 'I've been in an opera.' He would also like to sing more classical music; he had his first try at it in his senior recital in April. He is also learning to play guitar, something he's wanted to do for a long time. "I want to complete the trio — piano, drums and bass guitar — the instruments you (must) have to have a band," he said.

As he prepares to leave, Bradley says he will never forget IU. "It's a great place for experience," he said. "You learn by doing and seeing. "It's hard to think about leaving. I've been so lucky, it's ridiculous. It seems like everything's fallen in my direction. Everything seems easy — maybe it is time to leave."

Bradley said he hopes to be "doing what feels good" as he enters the working world, but to him, "what's really beautiful is doing something you love and getting paid for it."

Jayne Jackson

CAMILLA WILLIAMS

Former Butterfly aims to bring harmony

hen Camilla Williams was a 9-yearold singing in the church choir, she imagined she would sing for the rest of her life, earning a living at something she loved.

Daydreaming isn't unusual for 9-yearolds, especially for those who led an austere life such as Williams's. But she fulfilled these dreams — and many more.

Considering the era in which Williams broke into opera — the 1940's — her accomplishments are all the more amazing. She was the first black singer to have a contract with a major opera company. In 1947, she won the Newspaper Guild Award. She won the Marian Anderson Award twice and also won in the Philadelphia Youth Auditions. At the request of President Dwight Eisenhower, she performed at the White House in honor of a state visit by Crown Prince Hirohito of Japan.

Despite these honors, Williams is best known for her portrayal of Madame Butterfly. This established her as one of the premier opera singers of her time.

Williams might be expected to bask in her accomplishments, but this is far from the case. She is a devout Christian who gives credit for her success to God, along with the support and encouragement of her parents. "Nothing is possible through the self," she said. "But through God, all things are possible. It is this faith that has kept me going."

Faith and music have accompanied Williams throughout her life. She was born in Danville, Va.., in 1923, and has been singing since she was five. When she was nine, she joined a church choir and first started to dream of singing for her livelihood. "I imagined that I was singing behind a symphony orchestra," she said. "This is funny, because when you sing with an orchestra, you sing in front of it. But that was my dream."

It was in church that she started singing seriously, yet it was "Madame Butterfly" that made her famous. —Madame Butterfly' has followed me since I was 12," she says. "One of my professors gave me the idea, but at the time I didn't even want to study it."

After graduating from Virginia State College, Williams left for Philadelphia to study where she met Laszlo Halasz, originator of the New York Opera Company. Halasz gave her the greatest boost of her career by casting her as Madame Butterfly. But this wasn't without obstacles; after a smash opening in New York, the company ran into trouble in Washington, D.C.

Washington in 1947 was still a segregated community. Blacks were not allowed to perform in public, and the New York Opera Company was no exception. It could not present "Madame Butterfly" with Williams in the lead. She said this was a bitter blow, but with the support of her friends, she came through the trying situation. "Laszlo was such a great person," she said. "He told them that if I couldn't perform, he would take the whole company home. And he did. That is what makes friendship one of the world's greatest things."

Williams still performs, giving recitals at IU and other campuses around the country. But her heart is now in teaching. She began teaching under John Motley in New York City at the Manhattan School of Music, a school for young, gifted musicians similar to the school in the television show "Fame." She now teaches voice at IU, having joined the School of Music staff in 1978.

Mike Overstreet

ROBERT GRAFF

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Worldly wisdom meets native intelligence

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hen senior Robert Graff came to IU, the least of his worries was how he would communicate with people — Graff, who was born in Lebanon and lived in Greece, speaks seven languages: English, French, Russian, Italian, Arabic, Greek and Romanian.

Because his father worked for several international companies and traveled extensively, Graff grew up moving from country to country, including stays in France, Portugal, Belgium and Jordan. "It was a bit hard to get adjusted to new environments every time," he said. "But after all of that, coming to college was not that hard to get accustomed to."

Graff said his mobile background gave him the opportunity to meet many different kinds of people. "My schools were international schools with like 75 or 76 different nationalities in them," he said. "I'm very glad that I went to schools like that." As a resident assistant in Teter Quad, Graff found his diverse background advantageous. "Being able to deal with people, understand people and accept people has helped me out a lot," he said. "I've come to accept other people's viewpoints more easily."

Graff said he has especially enjoyed talking to foreign students in his dorm and on campus. "It provides me practice when I can walk up to them and speak to them in their own native language," he said.

He said he also spent a lot of time his first year at IU with students in the foreign language houses of Ashton Center, although he lived in Ashton-Johnston, not one of the language houses.

Graff said he finds it humorous when people think of him as a foreign student. Not only is he a U.S. citizen, but he is also an Indiana resident, and his father, uncle and two cousins attended IU. Graff's European background is evident, however, in both his accent and mannerisms. For instance, he said he found Americans to be more private than Europeans. "When I walked and talked with people, there was always a space difference that I had to maintain," he said. "Lots of times when I'd walk, I'd walk closer to people and kind of bump into them a bit, and it bothered them because they had to have at least a foot between us."

Graff said he was very surprised about the lack of knowledge some Americans have about Europe. "Quite a few Americans tend to be very narrow-minded about Europe and the outside countries, anything which is not the United States," he said. "I knew a lot about the United States coming over, and I couldn't understand why they didn't know (about Europe)." Graff said, for example, people asked him if there were cars in Europe, and what language was spoken in France.

Because Graff was accustomed to various types of people, he said the amount of prejudice in America shocked him. He added that in European school systems, "if you couldn't live or get along with a person, you were out."

Although Graff has been a senior for two semesters, he will be at IU one more year and still graduate with his class. He hopes to use both his foreign languages and his ability to work with people in some area of international business. "I'm kind of interested in going into hotel management," he said, "or in representing an American company dealing with foreign investors." Whatever he does, Graff should know what to say — and how to say it.

Katharine Lowry

GEORGE JUERGENS

He loves to tackle pressing issues

lthough IU history professor George

Juergens was born a few days short of being an Aries, he demonstrates the characteristics of a ram. "I like locking horns with people," he said. "I purposefully say outrageous things and go out of my way to be provocative."

Juergens, creator and instructor of the popular course, "The Presidents and the Press," said he enjoys creating controversy. He wants a reaction from his students when he tells them journalism is not a profession, and he gets it. For that statement, Juergens said he encountered opposition from several of the journalism majors in his class, including a memo from one. He loved it.

He said he can be controversial in the class because at the 300-level, "the instructor feels free to do all sorts of things he wouldn't dream of doing in a survey course. People are in the course because they're interested." So, he said, he doesn't hesitate to discuss Thomas Jefferson's alleged relationship with one of his slaves or Grover Cleveland's honeymoon.

The popularity of "The Presidents and the Press" is mainly because of the nature of the course material, Juergens said. He thinks students take his course because they like to hear history told in anecdotes. His stories stress the significance of American presidential dealings with the media. "Try to get a handle on this," he told his students, leaning on the podium with his palms upturned, as if pleading with them to understand how devastating press stories about Andrew Jackson's mother were, "I don't know if I'm making myself clear, but Jackson worshipped his mother; he was filled with revenge!"

A two-time recipient of the Brown Derby Award, a distinction given by Sigma Delta Chi to the most popular professor on campus, Juergens himself is a major reason students take "The Presidents and the Press." Although he is modest about this point, he said he "would like to think it's because I'm always available to the students. I hope it's not because they think it's an easy course. That would be dreadful."

Juergens introduced "The Presidents and the Press" to IU's curriculum seven years ago after researching presidents of the 20th century. He said he hopes the course shows students the relationship between the way presidents use publicity and their effectiveness as leaders. "The presidents who communicate effectively are generally strong presidents," Juergens said. For instance, Theodore Roosevelt's creation and use of the White House press corps enabled him to tell Americans exactly what he wanted them to know, he said.

Juergens said he hopes to convince students he doesn't have all the answers. His course is designed so students must analyze and interpret information on their own. Because he believes "education is a matter of individual thoughts," his research papers and essay tests have no single right answer.

Teaching history as a profession came as a "spur-of-the-moment" decision for Juergens. He had originally intended to be a lawyer, but became "terribly disillusioned" after a year at Columbia Law School when he realized he couldn't be the "great defender of the downtrodden" he had always wanted to be. He took a leave of absence and started a trip around the world, but his trip was cut short when he was drafted. After serving in the U.S. Army, Juergens planned to study history in England, but because his interest was in American history, he was advised to study in the United States. He received his doctorate from Columbia University in 1965.

Although Juergens worked on newspapers in school and in the army, he said he "never flirted with being a journalist." He wrote just to "pick up some dough" for school. He is a strong advocate of freedom of the press, however, and said he becomes "nervous when I see First Amendment rights coming under attack. The public attitude of hostility and suspicion towards the press" worries him because it lays the foundation for the infringement of press freedom. "The public has a tendency to blame the messenger," he said, and it sees the people in the media as arrogant, overpaid and unknowledgeable.

In Juergens's view, the role of the media is "not simply to report news or be a watchdog of abusive power." It should also "help set the agenda" for the country, he said. It was the press, he said, that "put civil rights on the agenda and made the United Nations a priority."

Katharine Lowry

Angie Gottschalk

Activities give her a solid Foundation

T aking a drink from a McDonald's cup,

IU Student Foundation President Brenda Glock opened the weekly steering committee meeting. "Okay, when your name is called during roll, say where you're going for spring break," she said, smiling brightly.

The committee members grumbled and laughed, but her enthusiasm rubbed off as they followed her "Fort Myers" with "Mexico" and "South Padre."

Three days before the start of spring break, Glock was looking forward to relaxing for a week, but her thoughts were still in Bloomington as she took care of the business at hand. No one had to introduce the topic of the meeting; everyone seated around the table at Showalter House knew Glock would ask for reports on Little 500 plans.

Organizing Little 500 her senior year was only one of Glock's many activities at IU. Participating in one campus organization after another, Glock never had time to be bored. "I like just having one more thing to do," she said.

Before her term as Student Foundation president, Glock was a member of both the Armstrong Student Foundation Endowment Committee and the Mini 500 Committee, and led campus tours on Red Carpet Days. She said she enjoyed Red Carpet Days in particular because they were "my time to show off the campus." Glock said she wanted high school students touring the campus to know how important tradition is to the full understanding of IU, so she made a special point of telling them about the Well House and other campus stories.

As president, Glock represented the Student Foundation at University banquets and served on student advisory committees. She originally applied for the position because she "wanted a big challenge." The money raised from Student Foundation-sponsored events, such as the Little 500, goes toward scholarships for IU students — a service Glock said she found rewarding. "It's very fulfilling to know I'm raising money for other students," she said. Glock also gained practical work experience from her University activities. Her speech and communications major and activities "highlight each other," she said. "I still get nervous, but I feel comfortable speaking in front of large groups now."

An Alpha Phi, Glock is also an active member of her sorority. She was voted outstanding pledge her sophomore year and outstanding member as a junior. She also was a rush counselor and external social chairman.

Aside from her work with IU Student Foundation and her sorority, Glock was active in the Student Athletic Board, IU Sing, the Ski Club and the University Women's Progressive Council. She said her activities can be attributed to a variety of interests. "I like what I do," she said. "I strive for being well-rounded."

Despite spending her after-class time attending one meeting after another, Glock said she was surprised when people question how she could participate in so many activities and still maintain a high grade-point average. In Glock's opinion, her full schedule is just right. "I know what my limits are," she said. "I'll say 'no' if I think it's too much."

Her ability to juggle classes and activities won her one of the Elvis J. Stahr Outstanding Senior Awards, an honor given to five seniors who demonstrate high scholastic achievement and involvement in the University.

Under Glock's leadership, IUSF sponsored two new events and seemed to strengthen relations with other student organizations. "I can motivate a lot of people," she said. "I know things will continue."

People come back to visit because "they left with something they did for the University," according to Glock. "They want to see if it's still working."

After graduation, Glock planned to intern for a congressman in Washington, D.C., doing legislative briefings. She expects to attend law school in the fall.

Katharine Lowry