Reed College Magazine March 2014 by Reed College

‰ March 2014

Thinker. Tailor. Soldier. Spy. The kaleidoscopic career of Emilio Pucci ’37

SKETCHING INFINITY | ARMY OF FROGS | JEAN-PAUL SARTRE COOKBOOK

4–8

Come back to campus and be part of a fayre for all Reedies. The schedule of events includes music, talks, lectures, and more. • Sign up for Alumni College, “Religion in Contemporary America: It’s Not Just about God.” • Indulge at the Marketplace. • Wield your paddle in the Ping-Pong Palace. • Carouse at the Carnival with therapy llamas and more. • See old friends and meet new ones.

Register today at reedfayre.reed.edu! alumni@reed.edu 503/777-7589 Reed College Reedfayre 2014 blogs.reed.edu/riffin_griffin

REED march 2014

FEATURES 12

Sketching Infinity

ForeverScape by Vance Feldman ’05 may be the longest piece of art in the world. By Lauren Cooper ’16.

Revel on the Level

“Night Owls” keep an eye out for their peers as part of Reed’s community wellness initiative. By Chris Lydgate ’90 16

The Engineered Crisis

Michael Teitelbaum ’66 challenges conventional wisdom about America’s shortage of engineers.

Revolutionary Spirit

04 Eliot Circular Paideia Bounces Back Flock of Segels Endowment tops $500M Double Your Money History Major Wins Fencing Tourney Ochoa ’73 Joins Board of Trustees Writing on the Wall Hot Ellipse Professors’ Corner

Sandy Macdonald ’46 and the bombardment of Winch.

By David McKay Wilson

Rail Yard Blues

By Laurie Lindquist

A senior thesis tracks pollution at the Portland rail yard.

Saving Starfish

Reed Leadership Academy trains students in the art of collaboration.

By Randall S. Barton

By Randall S. Barton t o p / l e f t p h o t o s b y m at t d ’a n n u n z i o

Fire in the Belly

Prof. Bob Kaplan and his students probe deep questions about evolution, ecology, and the fire-bellied toad. By Geoff Koch

Thinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.

The kaleidoscopic career of Emilio Pucci ’37. By Raymond Rendleman ’06

Cover illustration by Tim O’Brien

10 Empire of the Griffin Postcard from D.C. Postcard from NY Switchboard Lights Up Reedies Take Tech Spotlight

34 Reediana

Books By Reedies

38 Class Notes 48 In Memoriam 56 Apocrypha

Tradition, Myth, Legend

The Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook

march 2014 Reed magazine

Letter from the editor

The Reed Switchboard Lights Up

‰ March 2014

www.reed.edu/reed_magazine 3203 SE Woodstock Boulevard, Portland, Oregon 97202 503/777-7591 Volume 93, No. 1 Magazine editor Chris Lydgate ’90 503/777-7596 chris.lydgate@reed.edu class notes editor Laurie Lindquist 503/777-7591 reed.magazine@reed.edu graphic designer Tom Humphrey 503/459-4632 tom.humphrey@reed.edu graphic design assistant Kim Durkin ’13 alumni news editor Robin Tovey ’97

New tool helps students explore life beyond Reed Looking for a job in Javascript? Need a place to stay in Kiev? Got a lead for a filmmaker in Portland? I’ve always been a passionate believer in the power of Reed’s alumni to help students—and each other—find our way in this world. (And I’ll always be in debt to the late Prof. Richard Crandall ’69 for giving me my first real job.) However, it’s one thing to believe in the network—it’s another to watch it pulsing before your very eyes. And right now there’s no better way to witness the network in action than to check out the Reed Switchboard. The Switchboard is just one of several great digital tools that the college maintains to help students launch their careers—see more at the Center for Life Beyond Reed (www .reed.edu/beyond-reed)—but because it harnesses the power of social media, it is also one of the most engaging. Michelle ’18 needs a math tutor. Ariel ’05 has an opening for an architect. Nancy ’73 will exchange a collection of Virginia Woolf for some random chores. Betty ’51 seeks cheap housing in Uruguay. Hannah ’16 would like to connect with Reedies in Israel. That’s a random sample of the messages posted on the Switchboard on a single day. (See more at reedswitchboard.com.) The Switchboard—think of it as classified ads for Reedies—is the brainchild of freelance reporter Mara Zepeda ’02 and New York 2

Reed magazine march 2014

University researcher Greg Borenstein ’02, who began strategizing how they could share career advice and contacts with Reed students and recent grads, and how to help students overcome the shyness they often feel about contacting alumni. Reed signed on as the Switchboard’s first client last year. The genius of the Switchboard is its transactional approach to networking. There are only two kinds of posts, “asks” and “offers,” a structure that cuts down on promotions and status updates. At the same time, the Switchboard exploits a curious quirk of psychology—it’s often easier for students to ask a favor of a whole group than to cold-call an unfamiliar alumnus. By the same token, an alumna offering a strong lead on a plum job may not have time to track down individual candidates—but with the Switchboard, she doesn’t have to. Last year, the Switchboard’s creators won a $20,000 grant from the Portland Incubator Experiment to take their platform to the next level. But whatever its commercial fate, the Switchboard has incredible potential to strengthen the connection between Reed students and Reed alumni. I can’t wait to see what it looks like tomorrow.

—Chris Lydgate ’90

Valiant Interns Sandesh Adhikary ’15, Lauren Cooper ’16 ADVISORY BOARD Diane Morgan ’77, Matt Giraud ’85, Naomi McCoy ’94, Caitlin Baggott ’99 Reed College Relations vice president, college relations Hugh Porter Executive director, Communications & public affairs Mandy Heaton director, alumni & parent relations Mike Teskey director, development Jan Kurtz Reed College is a private, independent, non-sectarian four-year college of liberal arts and sciences. Reed provides news of interest to alumni, parents, and friends. Views expressed in the magazine belong to their authors and do not necessarily represent officers, trustees, faculty, alumni, students, administrators, or anyone else at Reed, all of whom are eminently capable of articulating their own beliefs. Reed (ISSN 0895-8564) is published quarterly, in March, June, September, and December, by the Office of Public Affairs at Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock Boulevard, Portland, Oregon 97202. Periodicals postage paid at Portland, Oregon. Postmaster: Send address changes to Reed College, 3203 SE Woodstock Blvd., Portland OR 97202-8138.

Letters to Reed Write to us! We love getting mail from readers. Letters should be about Reed (and its alumni) or Reed (and its contents) and run no more than 300 words; subsequent replies may run only half the length of their predecessors. Our decision to print a letter does not imply any endorsement. Letters are subject to editing. (Beware the editor’s hatchet.) For contact information, look to your left. Read more letters and commentary at www.reed.edu/reed_magazine.

Pantheon Pandemonium

I didn’t see exactly who was naked, so perhaps the aesthetics of the individual involved did not meet up sufficiently with the delicate freshman’s idea of a Greek god. Pity. —Timothy Gotsick ’87 Acworth, Georgia Editor’s Note: In 2011 Vice President Joe Biden

sent a “Dear Colleague” letter to all educational institutions receiving federal financial aid that clarified the interpretation of Title IX regarding issues of sexual harassment and assault. As a matter both of law and of duty, however, Reed is committed to maintaining a safe and supportive educational environment for every student—which means that complaints of harassment must be taken seriously, however light-hearted the Pantheon’s performance may have been.

This afternoon I received my latest copy of Reed magazine. I was stunned to read a short article (“Pantheon to be Robed,” Dec 2013) reporting that the annual fall Pantheon had been found in noncompliance with Title IX because of some combination of nudity and loud, rude calls for libations. I had some naive belief that the opening class Pantheon was supposed to emulate the behavior of the Ancient Greeks as taught by the Reed classics department. Studying under Prof. Wally Englert, I was under the impression that full frontal nudity, and loud, rude calls for libations were not only tolerated behaviors, but almost required behavior at events in Ancient Greece. This led me to imagine certain future scenarios: The title characters of HUM 110 arriving at the opening day of HUM 110 classes in a time machine and being expelled from the campus by Reed security for non-Title IX behavior. The Reed classics department rewriting Title IX compliant versions of the Iliad and the Odyssey featuring Achilles, Ajax, Odysseus, Hector, and Paris entering 12-step recovery programs; Helen being transported from Troy to a battered women’s shelter; and the massed armies of Greece and Troy confronting each other on the plains of Ilium to demonstrate their latest yoga postures. Alas. —Marcus Thomas MALS ’95 Portland, Oregon

I wish to write to tell you know how much I enjoy the Reed magazine. Normally, I don’t pay much attention to alumni publications, but Reed’s stands out. The in-depth articles on the various careers of graduates are fascinating, like one about the former student who devotes his life to restoring great works of art and the connection he maintained with his former Reed art history professor. Also touching and informative is the current edition’s account of Bruce Livingston’s work with troubled students, using theatre as a vehicle for healing. I’ve given to this group since its inception but I didn’t know Livingston was a Reedie. I’m delighted by the discovery. “The Prison of Memory” brought a lump to my throat and a tinge of shame as well. I was a student of Prof. Seth Ulman in the late 1950s. I thought he was such a strange man, and he stuck in my memory. But I have to agree with Cricket Parmalee’s observation that he was one who “cared more, thought more, about the text,” than almost anyone else I’ve ever met. At times I thought his attention to the smallest detail quirky, but now that I am older, I share his aesthetic. —Caroline Miller ’59 and MAT’63 Portland, Oregon

I find it a little pathetic that students dressed as Greek deities, naked or not, aggressive or not, could inspire the sort of hand-wringing exercise described in the last issue of the magazine. I was hoping that Reed, of all places, would remain a place where politically incorrect humor would at least be recognized as such. Of course,

I was very interested to read your article about a Labanotation app for the iPad. (“Dance of the Pixel,” Dec 2013.) I’m a Reed graduate, a computer researcher, and I am also the holder of a “Junior Dance Notator” certificate (possibly the very first one). I grew up with Labanotation

Mag Brag

Dance of the Pixel

and with the Dance Notation Bureau which my mother, Maria Nicholson Langston (known as “Nicky”) ran as the only paid employee for my entire grade-school life through the 1950s. As a matter of fact, when the DNB had its office on West 20th Street my mother and I lived in an illegal apartment in the back of the office. Lucy Venable and Ann Hutchinson were childhood friends, as were Bob Joffrey, Jerry Arpino, and many of the serious dancers in the New York City scene of the ’50s, as well as dance visitors like Alicia Markova. Over the many years since then, I have lost touch with the dance world and am now more in touch with the worlds of high-tech entertainment, traditional music (folk music, country music, etc.), and adult music education. So it was a blast from the past, as well as the intersection of three important influences in my life, to see the familiar Labanotation staff on an iPad in the Reed magazine and to read mentions of Rudolf Laban, Ann Hutchinson Guest, and Lucy Venable. I remember how my mother, Ann Hutchinson, and the volunteers at the Dance Notation Bureau had struggled to promote Labanotation, and through the years I’ve wondered how it was faring; I’m pleased to see that there’s still interest . . . video really can’t take its place! —Peter Langston ’68 Seattle, Washington

Tuition Heading up a Steep Ramp? It would be useful if you would redraw the graph plotting tuition and financial aid (“Financial Aid: 13 Questions,” Dec 2013) beginning as far back as there are data. In the early ’70s, I managed without parental support to pay my way with small savings, reasonable loans, work in the summer, and a modest financial aid award. My hunch is that the graph would show only a slow increase at best for many years before my attendance. What happened to send tuition up a steep ramp at Reed, as well as at many other institutions? —Creg Darby ’75 Seattle, Washington Editor’s Note: We’re working on this one, Creg— check our website for updates.

Letters on financial aid, the appropriation of Native American headdress, and sundry topics—on our website.

march 2014 Reed magazine

Eliot Circular news from campus

Elvish, Batman, and Infinite Jest Ever wanted to try Pysanky, the art of from Reed’s rigorous curriculum and let Ukrainian egg-dyeing? Take up fire dancing? them spend a week learning things they Get up to speed on the history of Batman? always wanted to know about but never These and more than 220 subjects were cov- had time for. ered in this year’s Paideia, the festival of alterPaideia also reverses the polarity of the native learning that Reed holds each winter. classroom and gives students the chance to Paideia (Παιδεία) is difficult to translate, be teachers, sharing their mastery of the but denotes education in its broadest didgeridoo, High Elvish, the programming sense. For the ancient Greeks, this included language Python, or virtually any other philosophy, poetry, mathematics, physics, subject. rhetoric, gymnastics, music, medicine, and First held in 1969, Paideia became a hot many other disciplines. The animating idea topic among alumni last year after President behind Paideia is to give students a break John Kroger questioned the propriety of

Reed magazine March 2014

a couple of classes on drugs and alcohol. Following extensive campus discussion, a faculty-student committee figured out a way to reinvigorate the festival. The result? More classes than ever. Nor has the festival lost its edge, demonstrated in classes on the science of drugs (taught by a psychology professor), the econoimics of stripping, and Demonology 112. In fact, President Kroger got in on the act himself, teaching classes on Heidegger, law school, and “Mafia Hitmen I Have Known.” —Anna Mann

alex krafcik ’15

Scholarship Honors History Prof

In David Foster Wallace’s 1996 novel Infinite Jest, the students at Enfield Tennis Academy play a baroque Cold War simulation game called Eschaton, which calls for a game board of several tennis courts. Over Paideia, mathematics/physics major Andrew Warren’14 led a version of the game, Eschaton Lite, which merely requires a large field, pen-and-paper calculation, and sturdy jackets.

Reed alumni have banded together to recognize one of the college’s most influential professors—Prof. Ed Segel [history 1973– 2011]—by naming a scholarship in his honor. A native of Boston, Segel graduated from Harvard in 1960 and earned his PhD at University of California, Berkeley, before coming to Reed in 1973. His primary interests were diplomatic history of the 19th and 20th centuries, European history, and intellectual history in the European mode. He lectured on the French Revolution, Edmund Burke, Beethoven, Vietnam, and everything in between, and made his mark on campus as teacher, scholar, mentor, pool player, parliamentarian, and lyricist. “This scholarship is a wonderful thing and I’m very grateful to the alumni who established it,” Segel said. “I’m particularly glad that the alumni come from such diverse fields and I likewise hope that the recipients of the scholarship over the years would cover a wide range of interests and academic commitment.” The three alumni who first established the scholarship were Lucien Foster ’95, Nelson Minar ’94, and Behzad Khosrowshahi ’91. “Ed spent more than 35 years at Reed helping students learn and be successful,” says Nelson. “I wanted to honor his commitment to students, and I know that personally, he likes the idea of scholarships.” After graduating with a BA in mathematics from Reed—where he set up the college’s first web server—Nelson earned an MS in communications technologies from MIT. A web developer, he lives in San Francisco with his

partner, Kenneth Scott. Although Nelson was never one of Segel’s students, he appreciated his unofficial role as an openly gay professor who supported Reed’s gay and lesbian student group, which in the early ’90s was still unusual. “I also personally benefited significantly from financial aid at Reed,” he adds, “and I am delighted to help fund financial aid for future students.” Lucien was a history/lit major at Reed and later earned an MBA from Northwestern. He is now an associate vice president for corporate strategy at NASDAQ, specializing in mergers and acquisitions. “I wanted to be a part of this scholarship,” he says, “because of all professors and people at Reed, Ed influenced me during my four years at the college and guided me afterwards. That makes a professor very special.” The two men hit it off philosophically, enjoying an occasional night at the opera or dining out together. Ed advised Lucien on everything from careers to girlfriends both during and after college. “I’ve always enjoyed Ed’s even-keeled, articulate, and thoughtful approach,” says Lucien. “His advice was incredibly valuable and he continued to be an important player in my life as I went forward.” The Ed Segel Scholarship benefits students with financial need and has been awarded to its first recipient, a sociology junior. Those wishing to contribute to the scholarship should contact David Frazee Johnson at 503/788-6673 or johnsod@reed.edu. —Randall S. Barton

march 2014 Reed magazine

Eliot Circular leah nash / Christopher Onstott: NASHCO

Working Weekend ’14 Physics major Allie Morgan ’14 (center) and chem majors Leya Strode ’14 and Tally Levitz ’14 (right) at a panel on “Women in STEM” at Working Weekend in February. Scores of alumni and parents descended on campus to help some 200 Reedies explore careers in everything from neuroscience to clean tech to law. Other sessions included “Charm School,” “Bright Ideas,” and “The Value of a Theater Degree.” Find out how you can get involved at www.reed.edu/beyond-reed.

Hot Ellipse An exhibition of watercolors by Prof. Michael Knutson [art 1982–], from his series Layered Ovoid Lattices, was shown in the Oregon governor’s office in Salem in December 2013–February 2014. Selected for the Art in the Governor’s Office program, which honors Oregon artists, Knutson’s name adds to a list that includes Manuel Izquierdo, Michael Russo, and Margot Voorhies Thompson ’70. Describing the series, Knutson stated: “There are various ways to read across the paintings: locating the smallest clusters of ovoids and following their expansion across a layer; looking between the ovoids at the membranelike lattices; looking through the layers of ovoids and lattices; constructing an elastic scaffolding across the layers of lattice; sliding on and off arcs of the implicit spirals; scanning between the symmetrical elements. My paintings might lead one

Reed magazine March 2014

Symmetrical Four-layered Ovoid Lattices #3

to consider not just what one is seeing, but how one is seeing.” The series also includes paintings in oil, some of which were exhibited at the Blackfish Gallery

Symmetrical Four-layered Ovoid Lattices #3

in Portland in 2012. See more of Knutson’s work at academic.reed.edu/art/faculty/knutson.

Page from a Qur’an manuscript, approx. 800–1000 CE. Iraq, Iran, or Syria. Ink and colors on parchment.

The Writing on the Wall Gift of Elton L. Puffer, 2004.61.A-.B. © Asian Art Museum, San Francisco.

Reed’s rich history in the art of fine handwriting of the West expands to include the Arabic tradition with the opening in February of the Cooley Gallery exhibition Qalam, Arabic Calligraphy from the Middle Ages to the Present. The exhibition provides an overview of historical Arabic calligraphy, “one of the world’s most poetic and spiritual art forms,” and is curated by Prof. Kambiz GhaneaBassiri [religion 2002–] and Stephanie Snyder ’91. Among works on display are rare pieces on loan from the Asian Art Museum of San Francisco, manuscript folios

courtesy of Steven Herold ’63, qur’anic and secular folios from the 9th to 19th centuries, traditional writing implements and materials, a documentary film, and a body of contemporary work by Iranian calligrapher and visiting scholar Hamidreza Ghelichkhani, who has taught calligraphy, paleography, and typography for more than a decade. Ghelichkhani gives a public lecture in April and also leads a five-week Arabic Scriptorium in conjunction with the Calligraphy Initiative in Honor of Lloyd J. Reynolds. Qalam runs through April 27.

Professors’ Corner leah nash

and photography at the Cooley Gallery. The exhibition, Reality Principle: Construction of a New Life, accompanied Prof. Lencek’s seminar, The Soviet Experience. Students contributed research papers and explanatory texts for the photographic images on display. Prof. Darius Rejali [political science 1989–] is back at Reed after a sabbatical year in Spain, where he studied the politics of torture thanks to a grant from the U.S. Institute of Peace.

Prof. Lena Lencek [Russian 1977–] presented a paper, “P.P. Muratov in American Scholarship,” at a conference on the writer and art historian Pavel Muratov in Rome in October. She also exhibited a new body of work, landscape paintings in India ink and tempera on paper, in a solo exhbition, Geochromes II, at the Artspace Gallery in Bay City, Oregon. And if that weren’t enough, she and Stephanie Snyder ’91 collaborated on an installation of Soviet graphic arts

Prof. Sarah Schaack [biology 2011–] is a 2013–14 Fulbright Scholar working in East Africa through May. Prof. Schaack is one of approximately 662 faculty traveling abroad through the Core U.S. Scholar Program, which is intended to increase understanding between the people of the United States and host countries. This opportunity was also made possible as part of Reed’s faculty sabbatical policy that grants leave to tenuretrack faculty. While in East Africa, Schaack

will teach a series of workshops on how to use freely available genomic data and bioinformatic tools to conduct biological research. She will also coordinate a whole genome sequencing project with collaborators at various research institutions in Nairobi, Kenya. This project will focus on sequencing the genome of the destructive moth Busseola fusca, which is wreaking havoc on the sub-Saharan Africa maize crop. Finally, she will consult and mentor students and researchers on ways to enrich their research by harnessing the vast quantities of data now available in the public domain. Prof. Tamara Metz [poli sci 2006–], Prof. Josh Howe [history 2012–], and Prof. Marat Grinberg [Russian 2006–] have all published books—Metz on politics and the family, Howe on global warming, and Grinberg on Woody Allen. For details, see Reediana (page 40).

march 2014 Reed magazine

Eliot Circular

Endowment

per Student

Endowment Tops $500M There has never been a shred of doubt about Reed’s intellectual capital. But when it comes to its financial capital—yes, the green stuff—the college was for decades relegated to the second tier. No longer. According to Reed’s audited financial statement, the market value of the endowment hit $518 million last year.

$600

Endowment Market Value

million

$500 $400 $300 $200 $100 Reed College 0 2006

$456

2007

$427

2008

$319

2009

$367

2010

$422

2011

$440

2012

$462

2013

$518

Pomona 1,065

Swarthmore

That’s a far cry from 1973—the year that Ed McFarlane, vice president and treasurer, arrived at Reed—when the endowment stood at approximately $4 million. Asked by the Quest to comment on the financial progress Reed has made over the last four decades, McFarlane was characteristically laconic. “It’s good,” he told the paper in November. Like colleges across the country, Reed was hit hard by the economic collapse of 2008, which knocked the value of the endowment down by 26% in a single year. But the endowment has staged a remarkable comeback since then thanks to Reed’s $200 million Centennial Campaign and the strong performance of the stock market in 2013. Income from the endowment currently makes up approximately 33% of Reed’s operating budget. (The remainder comes from tuition, grants, and the Annual Fund—thank you, readers!) Compared to our reference schools, Reed still has room for improvement. Dividing the endowment by the number of students yields a figure of $367,000, which is close to the median, but still behind deeppocketed comparands such as Pomona, Swarthmore, Amherst, and Williams.

974

Amherst 916

Williams 857

Grinnell 833

Wellesley 598

Bowdoin 508

Hamilton 343

Haverford 324

Carleton 322

Reed 305

Davidson 291

Colorado 263

Whitman 254

Oberlin 229

Occidental 156

Mills 114

L ewis & Clark

Hampshire

In thousands of dollars. Based on figures from 2011–12. Source: Reed College Institutional Research.

Double Your Money Fund last year. (It’s worth noting that the Your gift to the Annual Fund could have match applies only to gifts from alumni. If double the impact this year. you have questions about the nitty-gritty, Gifts from alumni of $1,000 or more will be matched dollar for dollar thanks to a new contact the development office.) initiative known as the Million “Elite liberal arts colleges Dollar Match. turn out critical thinkers and The challenge was launched by people with superior judggifts of $25,000 or more from a ment skills and communicacore of 22 generous donors, tion abilities more reliably and at a higher standard of quality including trustee Konrad Alt ’81. than most big research universi“Institutions like Reed don’t ties,” says Konrad, who majored exist in a state of nature,” Konrad says. “They come about because MILLION in political science and is now the managing director of the people with vision, resources, DOLLAR Promontory Financial Group. and commitment want them to exist. When any of those things MATCH “Our society needs those people. There aren’t enough Reed run out, they wither and decline.” College graduates out there in The Million Dollar Match is a the world. We could use a whole lot more way of bringing alumni together to ensure that the college remains accessible to stu- of them.” The fact is that tuition covers only 60% dents, regardless of financial means. Gifts of $1,000 or more made up $3.1 million of the cost of a Reed education; the bulk of the remainder comes from philanthropy, of the $3.8 million raised for the Annual

YOU x 2

Reed magazine March 2014

in the shape of the Annual Fund and the endowment. The Annual Fund provides a critical part of the college’s operating budget and helps meet Reed’s most pressing needs. Its unrestricted dollars make an immediate impact, providing support for financial aid, student services, and resources for faculty and the library. This year, the Annual Fund target is $4.08 million, and contributions will be matched through June 30, 2014—or until the matching funds run out. Physics major Heather Milne ’16 wrote a haiku to express her thanks to the generations of Reedies whose gifts to the Annual Fund made it possible for her to go to Reed. my gratitude flows  to you in words, but even  they are not enough. Make your gift by detatching the trusty envelope from this magazine or at www.reed .edu/givingtoreed. —Randall S. Barton

leah nash

History Major Wins Fencing Tourney tim lebarge

History major Alexi Horowitz ’14 won the 16th annual Douglas Williams Fencing Tournament in November, earning monster timê and a handcrafted gold pendant shaped like a foil to commemorate his victory. During the bouts, the students thrust and parried with steely determination. Fencing coach Miwa Nishi ’92, who has been involved in the tournament since its inception, said that one of her favorite parts of the event is watching the fencers in a competitive mood, as opposed to just practicing. After each bout, however, once their protective face masks were lifted, the fencers gathered around to congratulate and encourage each other. The tournament was started by the late Douglas Williams ’63, who learned to fence at Reed and later said that it taught him to value a balance of mental and physical excellence. He began the tournament to promote interest in the sport and to give back to Reed. It includes a purse of $10,000 that supports financial aid. (Any Reed student can compete, but only students who receive financial aid are eligible for the prize money.) Carol Simpson, Douglas’ widow, opened the tournament by saying that Douglas once told her that for centuries youths went out into the world with nothing but a sword to win their fortune and this was his way for keeping that tradition alive. Econ major Ian Morrison ’17 won second place, earning a silver sword on a black ribbon. Chemistry major Larissa Seybert ’17 won third, earning a bronze sword on a red ribbon, and anthro major Adam Casey ’15 won honorable mention. At the end of the tournament, Simpson presented each of the fencers with a certificate and a hug. —Lauren Cooper ’16

Ochoa Joins Board of Trustees Eduardo Ochoa ’73 says his peak intellectual experience was being a student at Reed. So being asked to help lead his alma mater as a trustee was the ultimate validation, comparable to having a parent say, “You’ve done well.” Elected to Reed’s board of trustees in October, Eduardo is president of California State University, Monterey Bay, and was the former assistant secretary for postsecondary education in the Obama administration. A native of Buenos Aires, he immigrated with his family to Portland in his sophomore year in high school. After earning a bachelor’s degree in physics at Reed, he went on to complete a master’s degree in nuclear science and engineering at Columbia University and a PhD in economics from the New School for Social Research. He became a professor at California State University, Los Angeles, eventually moving into administrative posts in the Cal State system, including provost at Sonoma State University. When efforts stalled to initiate an intellectual rite of passage for first-year students at Sonoma State, Eduardo looked back and drew some lessons from Hum 110. “Hum 110 helped me connect with the human project,” he explains. “I have always been interested in trying to make sense of what life is all

about. Learning about Western civilization gives you a moral compass that allows you to make wise decisions when you finally do get into a position of leadership.” Eduardo foresees turbulent changes in higher education. How will state universities expand to provide the education that larger segments of the population are finding necessary to complete in a global economy? Is there the political will to subsidize and support that kind of endeavor? Will it be possible to maintain and preserve the liberal arts foundation of American higher education? “Given its niche and quality,” he says, “I think Reed is relatively safe. There will always be a market for what it provides. It’s essentially a boutique, high-end experience, and now that it has a substantial endowment, I think it has the ability to do what other leading institutions do, which is to provide access to people from underprivileged backgrounds who are able to meet the academic rigor of the experience, but who wouldn’t have the resources to do it otherwise. The role that places like Reed can fulfill is to replenish and renourish the leadership of our country so it reflects the diversity of the country.” We congratulate Eduardo on his election to the board. —Randall S. Barton

march 2014 Reed magazine

Empire of the Griffin Connecting Reed alumni across the globe

Meet and Magritte NYC alumni had a successful event at the Museum of Modern Art: a private tour of the Magritte exhibition with Jim Coddington ’74, head conservator at the museum! We had 30 attendees, all Reedies, with another 90 people on the waiting list. The questions were great and the answers even better. A few of us met at a coffee shop prior to the event to meet and greet. Overall appraisal: a terrific evening! —Beverly Lau ’06

Freedom Summer, 50 Years Later Thirty members of the D.C. chapter gathered at the Newseum to view an exhibit on the role of students in the civil rights movement, taking advantage of free tickets to this otherwise pricey private museum that a chapter steering member had managed to snag. Our guide was Bernard Wasow ’65, one of 10 Reedies who went to Mississippi as part of Freedom Summer in 1964. Bernard described the training, his motivations, and his confrontation with his own fears in the wake of the assassination of three civil rights workers just before he and the other Reedies arrived, as well as his experience living with a 10 Reed magazine March 2014

local family and doing voter-registration work. After we explored the civil rights exhibition, the group dispersed to peruse the rest of the museum’s voluminous collection of Pulitzer Prize-winning photographs, newspapers covering major events over the past 150 years, and other features. —Paul Levy ’72

Know a Firecracker? What do Richard Danzig ’65, Barbara Ehrenreich ’63, and Gary Snyder ’51 have in common? They are the first three honorees of the Thomas Lamb Eliot Award. Who will be the fourth? Help us grow the pool of potential recipients by nominating a worthy graduate. The awardee should have achieved distinction in one or more fields of endeavor based on the quality and importance of his or her contributions. The record of achievement should be both intrinsically impressive and importantly consequential for the world. The awardee should have produced a record of achievement over a sustained period. It is also important that the awardee exemplify qualities valued by the college, including intellectual rigor, independence, and integrity. See complete description and details at blogs.reed.edu /riffin_griffin/2014/01/thomas-lamb-eliot-award/

Switchboard Lights Up The Reed Switchboard, our trailblazing method of connecting students and alumni, is lighting up! The basic concept is simple: Switchboard allows you to ask (for connections, insights, help) or to offer (job leads, internships, intelligence, resources). Art major Kaori Freda ’15 used Switchboard to connect with alumni in Florence, had the experience of a lifetime, and is now the Switchboard’s campus ambassador. Check it out at reedswitchboard.com

Kaori Frieda ’14 used this web exchange to connect with alumni in Florence and had the experience of a lifetime.

Reedies Take Spotlight in Portland’s Tech Scene Reedies are taking an increasingly prominent role in Portland’s high-tech sector. Last year, Twitter snapped up Lucky Sort, an analytics company founded by Noah Pepper ’09, for an undisclosed sum. Now two other local tech firms founded by Reedies—Puppet Labs and Urban Airship—have been identified as likely candidates to go public in the next year. CB Insights, a venture capital database that tracks activity related to private companies, speculates that both Puppet Labs and Urban Airship are poised for an IPO, or initial public offering—a critical step in the life of a tech start-up, much like a Broadway debut for a young playwright. Puppet Labs, founded by CEO Luke Kanies ’97, is an information technology company whose primary product, Puppet Enterprise, provides a platform for transparent and flexible systems management. The company employs 190 people and is headquartered in the Pearl District. Urban Airship, founded by Michael Richardson ’07 and three partners, provides ser vices for mobile developers and publishers with push notifications, location-based marketing, and analytMichael Richardson ’07 ics. Michael is the company’s EMEA (Europe, Middle East and Africa) technical director. Reed’s growing prominence in the Portland software scene is all the more remarkable because Reed offers no computer science major. Luke majored in chemistry, Michael majored in political science, and Noah in economics. Dozens of Reedies have infiltrated the Portland tech sector, including Merrit Quarum ’81 at Qmedtrix, Christopher Grant ’83 at Tripwire, Steven Swanson ’84 at Elemental Technologies, Ted Slupesky ’89 at Plasq, Stacy Westbrook ’97 at Webtrends, Erin McCune ’03 at Integra Telecom, and Juliana Arrighi ’07 and Brent Miller ’00 at New Relic. —Randall s. Barton

D E E R

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They love history. They love art. They love architecture. And they always know the best restaurants. Who could be better traveling companions than your fellow Reedies?

Moscow ∙ Prague ∙ Oaxaca ∙ Verona LA ∙ Austin ∙ D C ∙ the Sierras ∙ Portland Check out our alumni travel opportunities at www.reed.edu/alumni/travel

Revel on the Level

Hoot, Hoot! Night Owls Christina Johnson ’15, Hannah Looney ’16, Nicole Ezell ’16, Stella Ziegler ’15, Emma Williams-Baron ’15, and G Luhman ’15.

The “Night Owls” are a different kind of party animal By Chris Lydgate ’90

The lamp posts outside Old Dorm Block cast soft cones of light in the crisp November air as the three Night Owls stride through the Quad, their breath misting into the darkness. It’s a Friday night and the campus is crackling with energy. You sense it in the muffled throb of a distant bass line mingling with a sprinkle of laughter and the clack of heels echoing through the Sallyport. The Owls nod to each other. It’s party time. Armed with a flashlight, a walkie-talkie, a jug of water, and a backpack stuffed with snacks, sociology major Emma WilliamsBaron ’15 leads the Owls towards Winch, where a rock band named Part of the Collective is playing a show in the Capehart room. Just as the Owls arrive, the band finishes up a set, and scores of hot, sweaty students stream out into the frosty evening, milling

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about the entrance to Winch. “Night Owls!” Emma exclaims as she wanders through knots of revelers. “Anyone want a granola bar?” The Owls are part of Reed’s Community Wellness Program, directed by Rachel Wagner, health and wellness manager in student services. Their mission is simple: to roam campus on weekend nights, engage their peers in friendly conversation, and offer smiles, snacks, and support. But the Owls are more than just a roving party patrol. They’ll walk you back to your dorm room if you’re ready to call it a night. They can summon help if you need medical attention. Along the way, they play a key role in educating their peers about the effects of drugs and alcohol, including common-sense tips on safe and responsible use. They are not only ambassadors of cheer—but also agents of change. An evening with the Night Owls offers

a fascinating window into how the abstract philosophy of harm reduction actually works on the ground. At the Capehart party, the mood is festive and upbeat. Students hail the Owls with high-fives and queue up for gulps of cool water, which Night Owl (and environmental studies major) G Luhman ’15 dispenses from a heavy jug slung over his shoulder. In the student union, however, the scene is more laid-back. A clutch of students sits around the south loft playing the arcade game Big Buck Hunter. Absorbed by the game, the students don’t seem to know—or care— much about the Owls. “We’re a student group,” Emma explains. “We’re here to keep an eye out for you. We don’t report anything illegal, but we do help you out if you’re having a hard time or need medical assistance.” There’s a pause. Then G asks if anyone wants a granola bar. “Sure, I’ll take one,” a student shrugs. Soon the group is munching happily on the bars and talking about

BUZZ

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MORE IS BETTER cultural myth

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WORD TO THE WISE. Among other things, the Night Owls are working to familiarize Reed students with the biphasic curve. Many drinkers, especially teenagers, assume that the more they consume, the better they’ll feel. In fact, alcohol typically provokes a two-phase (biphasic) effect. At first, it produces a mild euphoria. But as the blood alcohol level mounts, it becomes a depressant, slowing nerve responses and interfering with cognition. Once you slide past the x-axis, there’s no chance of climbing back up the curve—better to call it a night. Source: “How Alcohol Affects Us: The Biphasic Curve,” by David J. Hanson, SUNY.

the band in Capehart. It’s a small but significant step—the Owls have made contact and established themselves as a friendly, nonthreatening resource that students can turn to if their Friday night takes a drastic turn for the worse.

The Night Owls are the spiritual descendants of the Karma Patrol, a student group which originated in the ’60s and which roams campus during Renn Fayre spreading good vibes and free bagels. When Gary Granger, community safety director, arrived at Reed in 2010, he was so impressed with the role Karma Patrol played in the spring/ fall thesis parade that he sought to create a similar group that could operate throughout the academic year. After lengthy conversations with administrators, student leaders, and the Health & Counseling Center (HCC), the Owls were born—er, hatched. “I love the Night Owls and the role that they have come to play in the community,” Granger says.

Beyond support and snacks, the Night Owls also offer practical information. Before major campus occasions such as Renn Fayre, they hold interactive sessions (the last one was “Revel on Another Level”) where students can talk about alcohol myopia and the biphasic curve. In the field, however, they scrupulously avoid moralizing. “They’re not there to judge,” says Wagner. “They’re not there to lecture. They’re there to help.” To be sure, the Owls are only a single element of Reed’s overall strategy for responding to drug and alcohol use on campus. They are certainly no substitute for the trained professionals in the HCC , nor do they function as junior CSOs. But one of the factors driving drug and alcohol use on college campuses is the misperception that everyone’s getting wasted all the time—a myth the Owls dispel by their very presence. Over the last three years, the Owls have earned a positive reputation. “The Night Owls are an invaluable resource for

Reed,” says Mike Brody, dean of students. “Beyond the objective benefit, among the most meaningful contributions they make is to demonstrate an often ineffable level of care on the part of Reed students for other Reed students. The Night Owls help us do the critically important work of keeping Reed safe, and in so doing I believe they embody the Reed ideal of honor.” The Owls fly through the Ping-Pong room and the pool room, which rocks to the tunes of the Detroit Cobras (until a hapless reporter accidentally disconnects the sound system). The Owls check common areas and bathrooms to make sure students are doing okay (but don’t intrude on dorm rooms unless they are invited in). It’s hard to measure the Owls’ impact with any precision. On a typical night, they will verbally engage anywhere from 20 to 80 students and interact with a handful in more significant ways, such as helping them back to their dorm room. Sometimes a friendly conversation with an Owl will prompt tipsy students to cut their losses and call it a night. In other cases, understanding the biphasic curve can have a farreaching effect on drinking habits. Regardless of the statistics, it sure feels like the Owls are making a difference to the campus vibe. On the way to MacNaughton, students greet them with a hardy “Hoot! Hoot!” and an operatic trill. And, if truth be told, most of the dorms do not exactly resemble dens of vice. The kitchen in Foster II is warm and cozy with the smell of apple cobbler. In Chittick, the fireplace is crackling and a dozen dormies have gathered to watch the cult-classic horror flick The Thing— no drinking, no smoking, just popcorn and an old-fashioned movie night. I leave the Owls at midnight. They’re walking through McKinley, talking excitedly about step aerobics and spider evolution, but I’m up past my bedtime and beginning to fade. To my delight, they ask if I want someone to walk me to my car. GO FURTHER reed.edu/community_wellness/night_owl reed.edu/academic/gbook/comm_pol/drug_policy.html

march 2014 Reed magazine 15

The Engineered Crisis Demographer Michael Teitelbaum ’66 challenges the conventional wisdom about America’s shortage of engineers. By David McKay Wilson

In the mid-1990s, American corporate executives complained about the dearth of trained scientists prepared to work in U.S. industry. Undergraduate science and math majors who didn’t want to pursue a doctorate were also in a quandary—their bachelor’s degrees often lacked the depth needed to compete for those good-paying jobs. Enter Michael Teitelbaum, a program director at the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, which had long supported projects at the intersection of science and the economy. He began working on an initiative to help American universities establish professional science master’s degree programs. When he started, eight universities offered such programs. Today,there are 293 PSM programs at 127 U.S. universities. “These programs connect students with graduate-level degrees with the demands of the workplace,” says Michael, who retired as Sloan’s vice president in 2009 and continues as senior adviser for the PSM initiative. His success at Sloan is part of a multifaceted career that has included teaching stints at Princeton and Oxford, serving as staff director of a Congressional committee on population, and writing eight books. At Sloan, his portfolio included providing seed funding for new fields of science, such as computational molecular biology. Those seminal studies led to development of the field of bioinformatics, which has provided the foundation for breakthroughs in pharmaceutical and genomic research. He also ran the Sloan Research Fellowship program, which identified outstanding junior scientists and provided grants of $50,000 to launch America’s rising stars. His interest in promoting the next generation of scientific minds gets fleshed out in his ninth book, Falling Behind? Boom,

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Bust, and the Global Race for Scientific Talent. The book, which he wrote while a Jacob Wertheim fellow at Harvard Law School, will be published this month by Princeton University Press. Falling Behind? explores important aspects of the U.S. engineering and scientific workforce, persistent claims of labor shortages by high-tech industry executives, the difficult career experiences of recent graduates, and the impact of corporate lobbying on the debate on immigration reform in Washington, D.C. “Employers say there’s a shortage, but many engineers and scientists are saying they can’t find a job,” says Michael, who lives in in Guilford, Connecticut, and San Francisco with his wife, Vivien Stewart, former vice president at the Carnegie Corporation of New York. “If demand for scientists and engineers rises, you’ll see the employers going to Congress to lobby to allow more immigrant engineers to come here. That will keep wages from rising.” R alph Gomor y, the former Sloan Foundation president who worked alongside Michael for more than two decades, says his latest project reflects a focus on digging deeply into issues, to discern what’s really happening in the world. “Michael is dedicated to finding the truth, whether or not his views are popular,” says Gomory. “While there’s supposed to be a shortage of scientists and engineers, Michael is saying there’s no shortage, and that takes a certain amount of guts.”

Michael developed his thirst for knowledge at Reed and Oxford in the ’60s. He came to Reed after a Stanford University professor he’d studied under at a summer program for high school students touted Reed as the best West Coast school for undergraduates. When he

chris volpe

arrived on campus, he was floored by the academic rigor. “I read in high school, but not a book and a paper a week,” he recalls. He fell in love with what he called Reed’s “pure academics.” He majored in sociology while taking a sizable complement of biology courses. Understanding the intersection of social and biological forces led him to graduate studies in demography—a field that views the world through an analysis of social statistics, involving such issues as population growth or decline, fertility rates, death rates, and the impact of immigration. Reed professors encouraged him to apply for a coveted Rhodes scholarship at Oxford, which he won. Four years later, he’d earned

“ Michael is dedicated to finding the truth, whether or not his views are popular.” —Ralph Gomery, former president, Sloan Foundation his doctorate in demography. He taught for four years at Princeton and then another four at Oxford, which reminded of his days at Reed, with the school’s prime focus on undergraduate education. At Oxford, he tweaked the traditional one-on-one tutorial system between professor and student to have two students meet with him weekly. “With two students, I could ask one to comment on the analysis of the other student,” he recalls. “We’d have a group discussion.” His expertise brings him to conferences around the world. At a meeting in 2012 of journalists and academics at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism on the politics of aging, he discussed the impact of declining fertility rates, especially in nations such as Italy and Japan, where the total fertility rates are 1.2 and 1.3 percent, far below the replacement rate of 2.1 children per woman. “If fertility declines, the distribution in the age pyramid shifts towards older age groups,” he says. “This leads to debates on

what to do about education and health care, with the older group bigger users of health care, and the younger cohort bigger users of education. As the shift occurs, you expect declining education expenditures and rising spending on health care and retirement. But that’s not the way it always works because politics intervenes.” Michael brought his demographic skills to the public sector in 1978 as staff director of the House Select Committee on Population at a time when there was concern about high fertility rates, infant child mortality, contraceptive safety, and international migration. He was surprised at the time to discover that migration accounted for about one-third of demographic change in the U.S. “In demography, you can’t dispute the data,” he said. “I had to educate myself.” He continued his studies of demographic trends after joining the Sloan Foundation in 1983 and wrote books on fertility decline in Great Britain, U.S. foreign policy and Latino migration, the fear of population decline, and the impact of international migration on both international trade and national identity. He also was vice chair of the U.S. Commission on Immigration Reform in 1991–97, which had a host of recommendations supported and rejected by Congress. In February, he was back in Washington, testifying before the U.S. House Judiciary Committee about the panel’s findings, and how issues raised 15 years ago were still in need of attention today. Of major importance was reform to visa allocations to provide a larger share to the immediate families of legal permanent residents and naturalized citizens. He’s uncertain what compromise—if any—will emerge in 2014. “There’s an absolute cauldron of interest groups that are trying to form common cause,” he says. “The elites on the right and left are coalescing because both want an expansion of immigration. But you never know in Washington.” Go Further Falling Behind? Boom, Bust, and the Global Race for Scientific Talent, Michael S. Teitelbaum (Princeton University Press)

march 2014 Reed magazine 17

Rail Yard Blues

Senior thesis tracks pollution at Portland rail yard. tom humphrey

By Randall S. Barton

The railcars rumble, the brakes squeal, and the couplings clash like distant gunfire. Generations of Reed students have known the Brooklyn Rail Yard as a gritty source of inspiration for the blues, a jumping-on point for freight trains, or simply an offbeat destination for a midnight ramble. For chemistry/environmental studies major Alan Tuan ’14, however, the yard is more than that—it’s the focus of his thesis. Prompted by concerns from nearby residents, Alan is tracking pollution from the rail yard, with a particular eye on particulates—microscopic bits of soot and ash that, in sufficient concentrations, can have devastating impact on human health.

The science

While diesel engines emit relatively low quantities of carbon monoxide and hydrocarbons, they spew lots of fine and ultrafine particulates. For example, while heavy-duty diesels make up only 7% of all motor vehicles, they emit nearly 65% of the particulates. Just a fraction of the width of a human hair, fine particulates have a surface area that absorbs toxic organics and can pass like gas through the lungs, transporting absorbed toxins directly into the bloodstream. Researchers estimate that their effect on human health may be much greater than other combustion-related pollutants such as nitrogen oxides (NOX), hydrocarbons, and carbon monoxide (CO). Diesel particulates have been associated with a number of health effects including premature mortality, aggravation of respiratory and cardiovascular disease, chronic bronchitis, and asthma. Railroad activity is a relatively small contributor to the overall burden, but pollution near rail yards can be significant. Additional environmental impacts include climate change resulting from so-called black carbon— the soot resulting from the incomplete combustion of fossil fuels. Sixty percent of black carbon emissions in the United States are from diesel engines.

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Local residents are concerned about air pollution from the Brooklyn Rail Yard, a short distance from Reed.

The air we breathe

When it was first established in the 1860s, the rail yard was relatively isolated. But over the years, the neighborhoods of Eastmoreland, Westmoreland, and Sellwood sprouted up around it, stoking tension as residents complained about noise and diesel fumes from the yard. In 1956, residents won an injunction against Southern Pacific, forcing it to put restrictions on both emissions and its hours of operation. The case sat dormant for 43 years until 2003, when the Eastmoreland Neighborhood Association (ENA) and the Sellwood-Moreland Improvement League (SMILE) accused the railroad (by merger now the Union Pacific) of violating the injunction. In 2012, Union Pacific agreed to switch out older locomotives at the yard for newer ones that should emit less pollution, and fit certain cranes and packers with diesel particulate filters. But the neighbors were left with a nagging anxiety—would these changes make a real difference? How much pollution is the yard emitting into the air

they breathe every day? And how could they ever keep track? Then the president of the ENA, Robert McCullough ’72, had a brainwave. An independent energy consultant, Robert often employs Reedies at his offices in Eastmoreland. He approached Prof. Juliane Fry [chemistry 2008–] with a proposal—why not collect data on air quality before and after Union Pacific upgraded the locomotives in the yard? Fry quickly sensed the idea’s potential. “Scientifically it’s great to be able to study something where there’s supposed to be a clear change,” she says. Before long, she was working on the problem with Alan, who became interested in studying black carbon for his thesis after Fry discussed its importance in an environmental studies junior seminar. It was an ideal thesis topic because it combined chemistry with economic and political implications. In fall 2013, Alan and Ben Ayres, a postdoctoral researcher in the Fry lab, set up a cluster of instruments at a Reed warehouse

Environmental studies/chemistry major Alan Tuan ’14 monitors “black carbon” emissions for his thesis.

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on Southeast 28th Avenue, roughly half a mile from the heart of the yard. One measures wind direction. Others monitor CO2 and NOX. But the star of the show is an aethalometer, which measures black carbon—the soot aerosol produced by diesel engines. (The aethalometer was purchased with the help of the two neighborhood associations.) Alan says that a general baseline chart will establish the background concentrations of black carbon, which has many sources. “Ideally we would see a spike in black carbon whenever a train goes past our instruments,” he says, “along with a corresponding spike in CO2 and NOX.” Of all the things he’s measuring, Alan says that black carbon is the least studied and a new area of focus in environmental chemistry. As Union Pacific was required to switch to more efficient locomotives by the end of 2013, Alan is eager to examine the data since winter break to see if there’s been a change in emission patterns. “If there’s a reduction,” he says, “that’s a sign that maybe they switched to more efficient locomotives. If there’s no change, well maybe they haven’t done it yet or we can’t see it. If there’s an increase, maybe they’re using more trains since they’ve switched to the more efficient engines. We’re always curious about those patterns, and if we see a change in them, we want to figure out why.” Alan hopes to set up additional sampling equipment at the Eastmoreland Golf Course, which would get him closer to the tracks. In the next few months he plans to launch a website and share his findings with the public. Prof. Noelwah Netusil [economics 1990–] will help him with the economic analysis, and Prof. Chris Koski [political science 2011–] will assist with the policy perspective. The tension over the Brooklyn Rail Yard is unlikely to abate any time soon. “In the long term, this is a ridiculous place to put a rail yard,” Robert says. But in order to figure out the costs and benefits of the various options—upgrading the equipment, reducing rail traffic, or even relocating the yard— Alan’s project to monitor the air quality is a crucial step.

Revolutionary Spirit

Sandy Macdonald ’46 and the bombardment of Winch.

By Laurie Lindquist

The study room for Winch 2 is a social room now. Desks and candlesticks are long gone, replaced by couches, a refrigerator, and a hot pot. The spindly steam radiator still clanks from its old corner, and the big bay window, with its fitted wooden seats, still reveals a regal view of the Great Lawn, though now through a cluster of maples, birch, and sycamore. Time effaces the past, but exhilaration overtakes us nonetheless as we enter the room, bent on uncovering the legend of Alexander “Sandy” Macdonald Jr. ’46 and his brass cannon. In a community rife with people of character, Sandy stood out. A history major who came to Reed from St. John’s College and Stanford, Sandy was captivated by the American Revolution and the early days of the republic. He was a brilliant musician who could perform Mozart’s operas on the upright piano in Capehart and sing all the parts. And he had pluck. To achieve a period effect on that piano, he inserted thumbtacks into the hammers and pressed newspaper into the lower strings. “He could sing American Revolutionary songs that wouldn’t stop,” recalled Richard Abel ’48. “He was just a remarkable guy.” “Sandy used to say that the 19th century music was content without any form,” said Frits Brevet ’50. “Rollin Dudley ’46 would say the 18th century was form without any content.” In Sandy’s company, Frits learned to sing “The British Grenadiers”—with additional verses improvised for the Roosevelt administration—and to sip Madeira wine. On festive occasions, Frits recalled, Sandy and others sported paper-bag wigs, cut and curled and sprayed white. Formal dances found Sandy dressed in 18th-century garb, his hair coiffed with powder or covered with a wig, wearing a jabot at his throat and buckles on his shoes. “He had an absolute coterie,” said Richard. “He was very charming,” said Patsy Wallace Garlan ’48, his close friend. Sandy and Patsy improvised the minuet during band breaks, and Sandy also took a spin with Shirley Georges Gittelsohn ’49, who was

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CHIP OFF THE OLD DORM BLOCK. A concrete corner in Winch still bears the scar from Sandy’s one-shot fusillade.

adept at making low bows in a full skirt. He dated his class papers with the year 1746, or thereabout, and wrote the first version of his thesis—“Columbia or ‘The Prudence of the Fathers’: Being an Account of the American Doctrine of Non-entanglement in the Theory and Deed from earliest Origins, to the Declaration of President James Monroe”—entirely by hand, using a quill pen he sharpened and dipped in ink. Though the varied stories of Sandy piqued our curiosity, it was the reference to the foot-long brass cannon he kept in his room that served as tinder for an investigation. “He would fire it off out the window at the height of bachelor parties celebrating the birthday of Thomas Jefferson, or Dolly Madison, or whomever,” Patsy reported. Lewis Leber ’50 said that Sandy issued ultimatums against the residents of Eastmoreland pertaining to their duties and obligations as subjects to the English Crown, and would “enforce the will of the king” by discharging the cannon onto the Great Lawn. The most dramatic episode in which Sandy and his cannon figured was revealed in marvelous detail 60 years after it took place, in an interview with George Bussell ’51, recorded by John Ullman ’65 and recently uncovered in the archives.

Sandy adopts revolutionary garb outside Winch.

As George recalled, Sandy, Rollin, and Jack Guthrie ’46 were celebrating George Washington’s birthday in fine form—with costumes, paper-bag wigs, and revelry that grew more animated as the evening wore on. Since it was midweek in 1946, the disturbance ran contrary to the work that George and roommates Lynn Hall ’49 and Eldon Schalka ’50 were trying to accomplish a floor above in Winch 6. The revelers responded to complaints with an invitation to join the party. “We were studying and we said, ‘No. We can’t.’” Missives to the assiduous scholars began arriving from Alexander Hamilton, Thomas Jefferson, and George Washington—written with a quill and sealed with wax. Sometime later, the party became a little more hilarious, said George, and emissaries

A party invitation that his dormmates might have done better to accept.

from Winch 2 arrived at Winch 6 and knocked repeatedly at the door. “I think we threw some water on them as we opened the door and that really upset them.” Not one to ignore a challenge, Sandy reappeared with Rollin and Jack and made a commotion outside Winch 6 that brought its inhabitants to their feet. “We heard this noise at the end of the hall and opened the door and looked, and here they were, preparing this cannon for firing at the room. So we all ducked, and sure enough, off went the cannon.” Luckily, Sandy’s marksmanship proved less precise than his penmanship. The “good-sized pellet” veered slightly off course, sparing the door and smashing into the wall just to the right of the door frame. Sixty-seven years later, guided by Towny

Angell, director of Reed’s facilities operations, editor Chris Lydgate ’90 and I arrive on the third floor of Winch and take a bearing on the cannon’s aim, reading from the interviews in hand. Towny is skeptical—so many alterations have been made to the dorms since 1946; how could any physical scars survive? True enough, the old Winch 6 door and its framework are gone, but the old concrete walls look much as they might have in Sandy’s day. Following George’s description, we fix the likely target of the fusillade and find an undeniable dent in the concrete wall. Bullseye! We let out a rousing cheer, attracting the attention of Quincy resident Ryan Butcher ’14, who pauses to join the celebration. As to why this remarkable event in Reed’s history never left the confines of Winch, the

answer is simple: no one was injured and the cannon was retired that night. But, as George and others attested, it was something you never forget. Go further

Sandy returned to Tacoma, Washington, and was employed in his father’s construction business. His death was recorded there in 1978. Also in Washington, Jack died in 1987; Eldon in 1992; and Lewis in 2012. Rollin died in 1995 and Richard in 2013 in Oregon. Our thanks to Gay Walker ’69 and Mark Kuestner, who manage the tremendous requirements of record keeping and archiving in the Hauser Library special collections, including the Oral History Project (OHP) interviews, and also work like gumshoes for Reed magazine. Learn more about the OHP in Comrades of the Quest: An Oral History of Reed, by John Sheehy ’82, available online through the Reed bookstore (bookstore.reed.edu). For information about the Dorothy Johansen Society for the History of Reed College, organized to perpetuate the work of the OHP, send email Gay at archives@reed.edu.

march 2014 Reed magazine 21

Saving Starfish Reed Leadership Academy (RELAY) trains students in the art of collaboration. By Randall S. Barton

What makes a leader? Is it boundless charisma, unshakeable confidence, raw power? Is leadership innate or acquired? “There may be some leadership qualities that people are born with, but much of it is skills you’ve learned and practiced,” answers Prof. Kathryn Oleson [psychology 1995–]. “A leader is someone who finds opportunities where something needs to be done and is able to fill in those gaps.” Prof. Oleson helped launch the Reed Leadership Academy (RELAY), a new initiative which trains Reed students in the art of leadership and creative collaboration. RELAY students attend weekly classes (without credit), participate in a service project, and pair up with coaches from the community at large. The origins of RELAY lay in a chance conversation between Kristin Holmberg, director of student activities, and Prof. Crystal Williams [English 2000–13] (then dean of institutional diversity, now chief diversity officer at Bates College), when Williams mentioned that she was thinking about starting a leadership program for students of color. “I’ve been thinking about starting a leadership program for everyone,” Holmberg replied, and the two began exploring the idea together. The program is based on the social change model of leadership development and combines introspection, theory, discussion, and a service project, where students apply the skills they have acquired. “The social change model of leadership is about collaboration, not about someone telling other people what to do,” explains RELAY coach Mariann Hyland, director of diversity and inclusion for the Oregon State Bar. “It’s about establishing a common purpose. There are many different leadership

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Kate Jentoft-Herr ’16 with her RELAY coach Louis Cohen, education program leader of Friends of the Children.

styles and some schools of thought that are more top-down. But in the organizations I’ve worked in, the top-down style is not very effective.” Hyland says the most important attribute leaders can have is an understanding of what makes them tick, because their issues and personal biases influence how they interact with and perceive others. “You can work through just about any conflict if you have that consciousness of self,” she says. “Recognizing your weaknesses, and being able to speak to them candidly, will help you value the strengths that other people bring to the table and get the work accomplished.” In RELAY, students compose a personal

definition of leadership; identify the values that are most important to them; and examine their own identities and cultures in relation to their practice of leadership. “We wanted to broaden the idea of leadership, because it means being able to interact with people from diverse backgrounds,” Oleson says. “You’ve got to learn how to work in groups. It’s a skill that you’ll use forever, and you can teach those skills.” Esmeralda Herrera ’14, a linguistics major from New York, says students spent a lot of time thinking about leadership as a process. Instead of just bossing people around, a true leader can help mediate a conflict in the group or encourage others who lack confidence.

alex krafcik ’15

Reed students discuss leadership in RELAY class.

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“We focused on being considerate of each others’ complex identities,” she says, “because the surface things one might observe do not really equal the identity someone has. Leadership is a process, and it’s not just you; it’s a group thing.” Guest speakers addressed the ethical choices leaders are sometimes called upon to make. A police officer told about arresting someone who is mentally ill and weighing the pros and cons of taking him to a mental hospital versus returning him home. Dr. Jonathan Jui, a doctor at Oregon Health & Science University, was in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina and told of making life-and-death decisions about whom to treat because of limited medical supplies.

Of course, leaders are influential, but group leader Santi Alston, assistant dean of students, says that the definition of influence varies. “We want students to be doing work that aligns with their core values,” he says. “That is what real leadership looks like.” RELAY coach Caitlin Baggott ’99 is the program founder of PolitiCorps, a leadership “boot camp” for college grads interested in hands-on politics and social change. “When I work with young people I talk about team leadership,” she says. “We work on developing skills to be an effective part of the team, moving away from the idea that leadership is something an individual holds, instead of something a community holds.”

Several students were struck by the diversity of the RELAY classes. “Everyone came from a different background with a different story,” says Kate Jentoft-Herr ’16, an environmental chemistry major from Washington, D.C. “One of our first activities was to write down a stereotype about a group we belong to and talk about that. It was interesting to see how people identified themselves and to see the vast array of different identifications.” During one class, participants were asked to stand in different corners of the room based on how they dealt with conflict. “It was cool to actually see how all these people reacted to conflict in different ways,” says Kate. “Everybody had a different idea of how they’d respond.” Kate’s coach was Louis Cohen, education program leader of Friends of the Children, who sharpened her job-seeking skills by conducting mock interviews. The skills she acquired at RELAY gave her a new perspective on the leaders at a performing arts camp for kids, where she has worked the last four summers. “This year, for the first time, I was able to look at the camp leaders and see what they were doing well and what they were doing badly,” she says. “Things that had always been a mystery to me became very evident.” Marina Moro ’16, a political science major from Gilroy, California, recalls a thought experiment the students discussed. “I’m on a beach and see all these starfish washed up on the shore,” she says. “I start throwing them back one by one and someone comes up and says, ‘Hey, there’s so many starfish, you can’t possibly make a difference.’ And I say, ‘It’ll make a difference to this one.’” See more at www.reed.edu/leadership

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Fire in the Belly Prof. Bob Kaplan and his students probe deep questions about evolution, ecology, and the fire-bellied toad. By Geoff Koch

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In the summer of 1987, Chris Marshall ’89 found himself on a mountainside in South Korea with a big headache. Marshall had come to study insect life in the ponds of Tut’a-san Mountain over the misgivings of Prof. Bob Kaplan [biology 1983–]. Given the remote location and long hours in the field, Kaplan had thought the experience was best suited for juniors or seniors, but after much wheedling on Marshall’s part, he had finally relented and told the sophomore he could come. Unfortunately, it turned out that the bugs he wanted were in short supply. Marshall needed a new research project—fast—or his inaugural field experience was going to be an embarrassing flop. At night Marshall lay awake listening to the sounds of Oriental fire-bellied toads, Bombina orientalis, calling to each other in nearby ponds, and wishing he had brought along a book to read. There was no shortage of frogs (Bombina is actually a frog) by the sounds of things. The next day, Kaplan suggested that Marshall make a virtue of necessity and switch from bugs to frogs—a decision that salvaged Marshall’s summer and taught him the value of improvising in the field. He also handed Marshall Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. The slim novel of spiritual self-discovery was important to him, Kaplan said gravely, so much so that he read it again every few years. “I didn’t get it,” Marshall says today, laughing. “A guy, a journey, blah blah. I was like, You read this TWICE?’” So I ask Kaplan: How many times has he read Siddhartha in the three decades he’s been at Reed? “Oh jeez. No way!” he writes. “At least once.” The response seems consistent with a certain fire in the belly that marks his approach to science—an approach that generations of students have come to

adore, even though, during Kaplan’s time at Reed, biology has been turned inside out by new technologies and the ability to probe life at the level of DNA. Kaplan has adapted—as any evolutionist would—but only to a point. In lectures, lab experiments, and fieldwork, he insists on keeping the focus on whole organisms. It’s not that genetic wizardry isn’t fabulous. Kaplan just happens to think that when it comes to understanding the implications of a changing environment, frogs offer a unique opportunity—and warning.

I meet him on a sunny day in October at his office in the Griffin Memorial Biology Building. Before we settle in to talk, he wants to show me the lab next door. In one room, at a long bench, Mari Cobb ’16 is at a microscope, separating Bombina embryos, which look like miniature tapioca pearls, for an experiment that Kaplan’s intro biology class will run in the Reed canyon. The source of those embryos is a warm, windowless room filled with tanks of water, where 400 inky spots of movement dart amid the gurgle of water and the hum of pumps. Kaplan is explaining how each frog was once an embryo assigned to a Reed student in the intro class. Conveniently, Bombina has a lifecyle that, with a little help from added hormones, dovetails with Reed’s academic calendar. It’s embryo to frog with a bright yelloworange belly in just 12–14 weeks. All students can get the pleasure, familiar to any kid who ever came home lugging a bucket of tadpoles, of watching an astonishing act of metamorphosis. Upper-division students interested in more serious research make use of the Bombina factory too. Taylor Stinchcomb ’14 is an environmental studies major with an emphasis on biology. For her thesis, supervised by Kaplan, she is exploring how herbicides

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Fire in the Belly affect Bombina embryos and larvae. Other scientists have found that herbicides can wreak havoc on a frog’s sexual machinery. Stinchcomb is trying to figure out just how little weed killer it takes to knock the frogs out of the ecosystem.

Kaplan grew up in Brooklyn. He got interested in biology the same way many of his students do—by spending summers traipsing around in the woods and looking for critters. In his case, it was eastern red-back salamanders in New York’s Adirondack Park, which has an area larger than Yellowstone, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon, Glacier, and Great Smoky Mountains combined. It was and remains a good place to observe nature, despite the fact that it’s within a day’s drive of 60 million people. After he’d earned degrees from Brooklyn College and the City University of New York, Kaplan headed west in 1978 to do a postdoc at Berkeley’s Miller Institute for Basic Research in Science and came to Reed five years later. Kaplan has always insisted that research go beyond the lab. This fall, as he’s done nearly every year, he took a group of students to Wahkeena Falls, about 30 miles east of Portland in the Columbia Gorge. Headlamps are required on this nighttime hike—local amphibians, like the Pacific giant salamander, are most active after dark. During his Reed days, Patrick Phillips ’86 went on one of these trips with Kaplan. Phillips remembers holding jellied clusters of salamander eggs that looked like little translucent jewels—miniature embryos clearly visible when the beam from his headlamp was aimed just so. “It was breathtaking, just like naked biology, right there in front of you,” he says. Today Phillips is a professor of biology and associate vice president for research at University of Oregon. His lab is heavy into the modern tools of biology, including statistical genetics, DNA sequencing, and computer simulations. However, he says the basic questions in biology, the ones immediately evident to those students wearing headlamps, haven’t changed: How does that little jewel develop into a salamander? And how do changes in the environment affect its growth?

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KNOT OF TOADS: Mari Cobb ’16, Prof. Kaplan, and Taylor Stinchcomb ’14 contemplate a tank of fire-bellied toads (which are technically frogs—if you need more explanation, ask a bio major).

Global warming poses a serious threat to amphibians, especially those that breed in ponds, because they can’t regulate their body heat. Many studies have examined the effect of rising average temperature on amphibian development, but virtually none has looked at the impact of thermal variation, where the daily highs and lows of a breeding pond spike erratically due to higher carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere. In a groundbreaking paper published in BMC Ecology in May 2013, Kaplan, Phillips, and several other Reedies—Juliana Arrighi ’07, Advait Jukar ’11, and Ezra Lencer ’06—found that hotter hots and colder colds tend to produce Bombina tadpoles with longer snouts and shorter tails. Sounds like an innocuous result, unless you’re a tadpole. That longer snout and shorter tail would make you a slow, topheavy, awkward swimmer, and thus easier pickings for predators, which, in a macabre frog-eat-frog twist, often include other amphibians. The takeaway: thermal variation is a critical factor for amphibian survival and can’t be predicted by simply plugging higher temperatures into a model. The experiment is an elegant example of the power of looking at whole organisms. “Parsing genomes isn’t going to stall the huge

biodiversity crisis that’s going on right now,” says Elizabeth King ’93, another one of Kaplan’s students and now an assistant professor of ecology at the University of Georgia. “Ultimately there is no human health without functioning ecosystems. The more science about whole organisms and ecosystems that’s done, the more places there are like Bob’s classroom and lab, the better off the planet will be, especially when those students are bright, inventive, out-of-the-box thinkers like Reed students.” Kaplan has published 34 papers on evolution and ecology and helped launch the scientific careers of many Reed alumni. But it is striking how often his former students reach beyond the microscope to describe his impact on their lives. King has fond memories of Kaplan and his wife, Linda, and daughter, Jessica, coming to visit her in Kenya in the mid-1990s after she graduated from Reed. Kaplan was in Africa exploring whether Hyperolius viridiflavus, the common reed frog, might be suitable for study in his lab back in Portland. Ultimately it didn’t pan out due to onerous export restrictions. She remembers scoping out potential field sites with Kaplan, who at one point considered taking over an abandoned camp used by camel researchers. How to forget Jessica,

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HARDY CREW. Prof. Kaplan in the field in Korea in 2002 with (left to right) Martha Baugh ’01, daughter Jessica, Lindsay Fuchs ’05, and Aaron Clark ’00. In the passenger seat is Choi Geum Sook; driving is her husband, Kim Won Ki. The couple have been doing ground support for Kaplan’s Korean fieldwork since 1985.

Life of Pi, another novel of spiritual discovery. Among her favorite memories: “Reading and writing on the porch, which looked over the field of tadpole pots, early in the morning before everyone else woke up.”

then in elementary school and now an anthropology doctoral student at University of California, Santa Barbara, practicing her violin while hippos bellowed in the background? Or looking out over a sea of pink flamingoes at Lake Bogoria, where Ernest Hemingway had once camped? Kaplan has led students on summer trips to Korea for 28 years now. Their pilgrimage sparks considerable local interest—a South Korean TV news magazine broadcast a one-hour show about his work in 2009. While living conditions in his remote Korean research sites have improved since the ’80s, they are still off the grid in every way. Kaplan and the students can now drive all the way to the sites, eschew tents for rustic cabins belonging to his friend, Kim Won Ki, and use the car battery to recharge their laptops. (South Korea may be known around the world for its cell phones, but when Jukar and Kristy Gonyer ’10 went on the trip in 2009, the group had just one phone among them. Getting reception required walking 30 minutes from camp.) Jukar is now pursuing environmental science at George Mason University, and Gonyer coordinates Reed’s science outreach program—started by Kaplan in the mid-1990s. On her Korea trip, she brought

Hesse’s protagonist, Siddhartha, spends much of the book next to water as well, crossing a river several times in both me-taphorical and actual transitions from one life stage to the next. Early in the story Siddhartha realizes that wisdom cannot be gleaned solely by cutting himself off from the world and pursuing ideas in the abstract. Reading the passage where the physical world beckons to Siddhartha, it’s impossible not to think of a certain bearded field biologist, one who has never stopped enjoying the thrill of looking for salamanders in the woods at night: “Beautiful were the moon and the stars, beautiful was the stream and banks, the forest and the rocks . . . All of this had always existed, and he had not seen it; he had not been with it. Now he was with it, he was part of it. Light and shadow ran through his eyes, stars and moon ran through his heart.” Back in Portland on a sunny fall day, I sit in the Cerf amphitheatre and look east, toward the canyon. The colors of the red alder and bigleaf maple trees are turning and reflect in the water. Behind the pretty picture is a thriving ecosystem, one that’s been painstakingly restored since the late ’90s. For years Kaplan served as chair of the Canyon Committee, and his students still do research in the canyon. This year, Jenny Balmagia ’14 is studying the canyon’s macroinvertebrates, which includeseverything from worms and snails to crayfish and dragonflies.

Affection for Kaplan runs deep through the hearts of many former students. When I talk to Marshall on the phone, he’s just back from getting married on the Oregon coast. Of course Kaplan was there, and the two wound up laughing about Marshall’s first befuddling encounter with Siddhartha. Today Marshall is curator and collection manager at the Oregon State Arthropod Collection in Corvallis. He found his way back to bugs by way of Harvard and Cornell. He also found his way back to Hesse’s book, which he reread years after his Korea trip with Kaplan. “Now I get it,” says Marshall. “Your life changes don’t always seem like they all fit together, but you find your way—and you often become a different person as you transition from one stage to the next.” Kaplan is still helping students find their way, especially down boggy, muddy trails in the dark. It’s a cold rainy day in November now, and we’re trading emails. He writes to warn me he’ll be tough to reach. He’ll be in the canyon with intro biology students all afternoon and then with upperdivision students on Sauvie Island until 11 p.m that night. “We are looking for chorus frogs, roughskinned newts, and long-toed salamanders; the first two species are already making their way to ponds to breed,” he writes. “Gotta do it!!!” A protagonist, a journey, and a story about muddy boots and doing biology the old-fashioned way. Seems one that’s worth telling, and doing, more than once. Geoff Koch is a science writer in Portland.

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Thinker. Tailor. Soldier. Spy.

The kaleidoscopic career of Emilio Pucci ’37. By Raymond Rendleman ’06

C o u r t e s y o f S p e c i a l C o l l e c t i o n s , E r i c V. H a u s e r M e m o r i a l L i b r a r y, R e e d C o l l e g e . ( p h o t o i l l u s t r at i o n b y r e e d m a g a z i n e )

It was the last straw. All semester long, the freshmen had put up with his exotic accent. His fancy footwork on the dance floor. His Florentine flamboyance and the way the women swooned over him. Now Emilio Pucci ’37 had pushed their patience to the limit. To show off the new uniforms he had designed for the Reed ski team, he built a wooden ramp in the canyon, coated it with soap to make it slick— and invited a news crew to film the Reed skiers in their sleek outfits. So the freshmen reckoned it was time to grab a little glory of their own. When the news crews arrived, Gregg Wood ’39 and three other classmates stripped off their clothes and jumped naked into the outdoor swimming pool that sat below the lake. “We went down to the canyon swimming pool and broke the ice that was about an inch thick,” said Gregg, a member of Reed’s dance committee that Emilio’s showmanship always overshadowed. “It just ended up being as cold as heck, so we ran back to the gym for hot showers.” Unfortunately, the stunt came to naught. The newsmen shrugged and trained their cameras on the skiers. Emilio was, as usual, the man of the hour, and the envy he aroused only seemed to deepen his mystique. It was as if he were destined to hog the spotlight—a fitting talent for a man who would eventually become a world-class fashion designer. But Emilio was more than that. His story also slaloms through some imposing philosophical moguls. Throughout his long and productive life, he struggled to reconcile diametrically opposed ideas: his youthful infatuation with fascism with his belief in freedom and opportunity; his loyalty to his homeland and his love of his adopted country; his distrust of materialism while embracing an inherently materialistic medium. What he managed in his lifelong quest was nothing short of astonishing: He predicted—and designed for—a future in which everyone would have to negotiate their own such opposing forces.

Penniless Aristocrat

Emilio’s home address was Pucci Palace, built for his family nearly 1,000 years ago. Heir to one of Italy’s oldest noble families, his full name was Emilio Paolo Pucci dei Marchese di Barsento, referring to the family’s fiefdom on the Adriatic Sea. Pucci Palace still contains a Botticelli painting showing the use of forks, by legend adopted for the first time in Florence by the Pucci family. After Catherine de’ Medici used a fork, the fad spread across Europe.

Pucci designed the first uniform for the Reed ski team.

In some ways, this fairy-tale legacy suited Emilio. He was an accomplished athlete and expert skier who represented Italy in the 1932 Winter Olympics at Lake Placid. But there was also a questing, iconoclastic part of his personality. He felt stifled by the snobbish conventions of the Italian aristocracy and bored by his classes at the University of Milan. In 1935, he traveled halfway around the world and enrolled at the University of Georgia, where he studied cotton agriculture. But the environment didn’t provide the intellectual inspiration he was looking for. Worse, he found himself cut off from his family’s bank accounts as a result of the growing chaos in Europe. Emilio sought refuge in skiing and went on a trip to the slopes of Mount Hood. On his way back, he stopped at the office of Dexter Keezer [president 1934–42] in September 1936 to ask for help. It was, to say the least, an unlikely meeting. Emilio was an old-money Italian aristocrat who was suddenly broke. Keezer was a self-made man from Massachusetts, a

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Pucci World War I veteran, former reporter, economist, and New Deal Democrat. On top of that, they could have guessed that their countries had a strong chance of opposing each other in war. Their meeting came as Italy and Germany were shoring up their military alliance and right after the sinister 1936 Berlin Olympics. Emilio’s problem was simple. Despite his aristocratic pedigree, he lacked ready

photos by toni frissell

SLEEK PROFILE: Pucci hit the big time when Harper’s Bazaar ran a spread of stylish skiers modelling his clothes on the slopes of Zermatt in 1948.

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funds for his education due to Italian exchange restrictions stemming from its war with Ethiopia. He wanted to study at Reed because he had been told it was “a very good college.” Moreover, Emilio said, he wanted to see if he could make his own way in the U.S. after being forbidden even to take a walk alone for years in Italy, where a servant accompanied him everywhere. The two men struck a deal. According to President Keezer’s own notes, available in the Hauser Library archives, Reed would

Elizabeth McCracken McDowell ’34 remembers dancing with him once after he taught a group in the Winch social room the Viennese waltz. Hanging out with Emilio required some fancy ideological footwork because he was also a passionate defender of Italian fascism, a fact often forgotten or omitted from romantic accounts. His thesis, written under his adviser, Prof. Tom Staveley [history 1924–25, 1936–37], was “Fascism: An Explanation and Justification.” Reading

President Keezer struck a deal: Reed would provide tuition, room, and board. In return, Emilio would coach the ski team. provide Emilio with tuition, room, and board. In return, Emilio would form and coach Reed’s first ski team. “His academic performance was first rate,” Keezer wrote of Emilio. “And so was the zest and goodwill with which he tackled a variety of lowly chores on the campus—waiting on tables, washing dishes, scrubbing—to acquire a bit of cash to supplement the bare subsistence being provided to him.” Emilio’s panache persists as the strongest memory among his surviving classmates. Before World War II, Reed students mostly hailed from the Pacific Northwest, so the dashing Italian turned heads every time he walked into the Commons. Emilio’s roommate in Winch, Bob Scharf ’39, remembers him saying one evening, “A moonlit night like this is made for love,” before slipping out on some nocturnal adventure. Lee Canfield ’36, although acknowledging that his memory sometimes fails him at 98, remembers Emilio as “an engaging presence around campus who was involved in a number of activities.” With his usual flair, he drew a distinctive double griffin that still appears on Reed T-shirts and decals. Carleton Whitehead ’41 [administrator, 1952–83] recalled Emilio as “a social animal” who cut a wide swath on campus. “You could tell, because some women were just delighted to see him again and others wouldn’t come within 10 feet of him.” Kathleen Cahill Dougall ’37 remembers him as “very handsome and known for dancing the tango.” By many other current accounts, his most frequent dancing partner was Carolyn Bilderback ’38.

the text (available in the thesis tower) turns one’s stomach. Emilio wrote in the introduction that he meant his description of Italy’s governmental system to correct misunderstandings and promote world peace. He believed that a strong centralized government was essential to a prosperous modern society. President Keezer, who himself frequently spoke out against fascism, wrote later that he thought Emilio’s presence at Reed as a “vigorous champion of it, could enliven our campus in an intellectually stimulating way.”

Honor and Treachery

After graduating from Reed, Emilio returned to Florence to find a letter he had been dreading—a government order to serve in the armed forces. He reported for duty in the Italian Air Force, starting in Ethiopia. He survived several fighter-pilot missions that destroyed the majority of his squadron and won a medal for valor before coming down with a debilitating tropical fever. While recuperating in Capri in 1943, Emilio’s destiny was forever altered by a chance meeting with a childhood friend— Countess Edda Ciano, the eldest daughter of Italian dictator Benito Mussolini. Strongwilled and glamorous, she had volunteered with the Red Cross in Italy’s ill-fated invasion of Greece and had been aboard the Po, a hospital ship, when it was sunk by a British bomber. She survived by swimming to shore. Edda was married to one of her father’s most influential henchmen, Galeazzo Ciano. In the ’30s, Ciano had been Mussolini’s righthand man, serving as chief propagandist

Agent of Mercy © Hulton-Deutsch Collection/CORBIS

DAMSEL IN DISTRESS: Countess Edda Ciano, Mussolini’s daughter, turned to Pucci in a bid to rescue her husband.

and foreign minister. Over time, however, Ciano grew disillusioned. In July 1943, after the Allied invasion of Sicily, he turned against Mussolini and was soon imprisoned by Il Duce and his Nazi overlords on charges of treason. Edda now found herself in a surreal situation—her father had essentially ordered the death of her husband. In desperation, she turned to Emilio. Emilio’s youthful admiration for Mussolini had been shattered by the war. As he later said, “I had idealized fascism while I was abroad, and was confronted now with corruption, lack of responsibility, and incompetence. I still believed in fascism, however, thinking it was the men who were failing and not the system.” To Emilio, however, ideology was nothing compared to a damsel in distress. Opined historian James H. Walters, Emilio “was a hangover of feudalism: a cavalier who felt it was his duty to lend his sword to his queen.” In Emilio’s own words: “After listening to her story, I decided that it was my duty as an officer and an Italian to do all I could to help her . . . and that it was my duty as a gentleman to do my utmost.” At Edda’s behest, he agreed to intercede with Mussolini on her behalf, only to discover that, as she had predicted, Mussolini promised everything but did nothing. “If you only knew how many times I have tried

At the end of WWII, Emilio Pucci, then living in exile in Switzerland, approached the Italian embassy about returning to his native land. The response was pessimistic: however honorable Emilio deemed his actions to save Countess Edda Ciano and to preserve the Ciano Papers, he had been officially AWOL from the Italian Air Force for nearly a year and a half. His only chance of returning to Italy as a free man was to cut a deal with the Allied forces who now occupied Italy. Converging on that moment in time was Cordelia Dodson ’36, MA ’41, who worked in intelligence and counterintelligence at the Office of Strategic Services in Bern under Allen Dulles, the future director of Central Intelligence. Fluent in French and German, Cordelia spotted Emilio’s name in cable traffic and volunteered her assistance. Dulles, anxious to track down the missing diaries, arranged for Cordelia to rendezvous with Emilio at Zermatt, an Alpine ski resort in the shadow of the Matterhorn. From that meeting, Cordelia produced a memo that included Emilio’s account of his role with the Cianos and got him to agree to look for the missing Ciano papers in Italy. At Cordelia’s suggestion, therefore, Dulles asked the

to show him the truth,” she told Emilio. “There is nothing to be done through him.” Mussolini claimed that he was powerless to release Ciano, who was in the hands of the Gestapo. Fortunately, Edda and Emilio did not have to rely on Mussolini’s conscience. They held a card that would prove to be one of the most significant documents of the entire war—Ciano’s secret diaries. The Ciano diaries provided a blow-byblow account of Mussolini’s inner circle from 1937 to 1943, plus incriminating revelations about top Nazi leaders. The diaries were the World War II equivalent of the Nixon tapes—political dynamite. Knowing that Ciano could be executed at any time, Edda and Emilio tried to use the damning documents as a bargaining chip—an effort that plunged them

SPYCATCHER: Cordelia Dodson ’36, MA ’41 worked in intelligence and counterintelligence in World War II.

Italians to let Emilio return without fear of imprisonment. Cordelia’s career with the OSS, told in brief in the book Sisterhood of Spies: The Women of the OSS, reads like an adventure novel. Her assignments involved dangerous air missions and top-secret encryption. She married fellow OSS operative William J. Hood, and their secret duties took them to various locations in Central and Western Europe. Cordelia retired in 1980 to the coast of Maine, where she lived unobtrusively until her death at the age of 98. —Anna Mann

into the infernal heart of Nazi politics as key players in the Third Reich, including Heinrich Himmler, Ernst Kaltenbrunner, and Joachim von Ribbentrop, vied for possession of the diaries. Himmler and Kaltenbrunner agreed to release Ciano in exchange for them, but Edda and Emilio had misgivings and held back the portion of the documents that dealt primarily with the Nazis—the so-called Germania papers. They were right to be suspicious. The Germans had no intention of releasing Ciano. Deciding that it was too dangerous to stay in Italy, Emilio sewed a pouch in Edda’s jacket to smuggle the Germania papers across the border into Switzerland. After her successful escape, she mailed desperate letters to her father and Hitler, writing that if her husband weren’t released in

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Pucci three days, she would give the papers to the Allies. Edda was now safe, but Emilio was still stuck in Italy. As he tried to escape to Switzerland from Verona, his car wouldn’t start. Emilio’s luck really gave out when he hailed a passing car only to find it contained four German soldiers. Soon he was in the hands of the Gestapo, who demanded to know the location of Edda and the diaries. Emilio refused to tell them, fearing that Swiss authorities hadn’t yet accepted her immigration. As he later explained, “I figured that German pressure upon the Swiss government might, if applied in time, prove strong enough to have her sent back.” The interrogators demanded an answer. Emilio “calmly” refused. German officers beat him with wooden riding crops until he was a “mess of blood.” When one of the officers gruffly told him to wipe the blood off his face, Emilio thought he might bring out a “funny side” to the ordeal. He took a small comb from his suit pocket and leisurely ran it through his hair. “When I had finished, I asked the colonel if it was all right,” Emilio recalled. “He looked at me with a bewildered expression, as if I was an impertinent child with whom it was difficult to deal. I felt satisfied.”

Innovative fabrics, bold designs. Pucci in Florence, 1959.

few days in Switzerland, he tried to contact the countess, but his pain soon became excruciating and he checked into a local hospital, where doctors told him that his skull had been fractured in several places. He remained in exile for the duration of the war.

Grand Designs

After the war, Emilio was free to resume his interest in design. His big break came in 1947, when an Italian fashion photographer noticed a woman wearing his clothes on

products that included perfumes, shoes, and eyeglasses. His status-symbol belts, scarves, handbags, and shirts sold briskly in world capitals. Worn by Jackie Kennedy, Marilyn Monroe, and Madonna, his company’s designs penetrated the fashion markets for flight attendant uniforms, scarves for suburban moms, and the Apollo 15 astronauts’ insignia. Free People designer Samara Cifelli gushed recently, “Emilio Pucci’s influence on American fashion design is undeniable, but his contribution ranges far beyond the

German officers beat him with wooden riding crops until he was a “mess of blood.” His victory was short-lived. The Gestapo fitted twisting “steel contraptions” to his wrists and fingers, pointed a gun at his head, and gave him 60 seconds to talk, counting to zero. He remained silent, never knowing if—or when—the officer would pull the trigger. That night, he was so despondent that he tried to slit his wrists with a razor blade that he had smuggled into his cell, but could not free himself from his handcuffs. Finally, the Nazis realized that Edda had escaped to Switzerland, and that Emilio was no longer useful to them. A Gestapo agent known as Fräulein Ilse, who was a friend of Edda’s, came to his rescue. Ilse negotiated Emilio’s release if he agreed to warn Edda not to double-cross the Nazis. Emilio traveled by boat across Lake Lugano, which borders Italy and Switzerland, arriving in the Swiss village of Morcote at 4 a.m. on January 20, 1944. During his first

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the slopes of Zermatt. Before Emilio came on the scene, skiing outfits tended to be bulky; but thanks to his innovative use of stretchy fabrics, Emilio’s skiers could stay warm, take advantage of aerodynamics, and leave less to the imagination. Portland’s White Stag clothing company, run by early Pacific Northwest skiing enthusiast Harold S. Hirsch [trustee 1956–90], eventually manufactured the designs. “How did I get to my work?” Emilio joked to a crowd of Reedies during a campus visit in 1962. “Well, I’d have to admit to one great weakness—pretty girls. Maybe that’s the cause of it all.” His kaleidoscopic designs fit perfectly with the psychedelic milieu of the ’60s, when his popularity peaked. Nicknamed divino marchese, the divine marquis, for his heavenly creations, Emilio was also one of the first designers, with Pierre Cardin, to attach his name to a line of

runway. During the ’60s and ’70s, Emilio explored and pushed the boundaries of textile design through both art and science. His contributions to color chemistry, graphic design, and textile engineering laid the groundwork for American designers from Diane von Furstenberg to home goods innovators like Suki Cheema and Nieves Lavi, to explore and create fabrics that owe their inspiration to the Italian ‘Prince of Prints.’” Emilio dismissed such praise, even during his heyday, arguing that the faster societies progress, the faster fashions become unfashionable. By fashion, he didn’t just mean clothing or design, he meant life in general, including literature, homes, food, and relationships. Fashion designers, he contended, must first of all understand their surrounding world and express it through fabrics, just as writers sweat over their word choices. At Reed, he saw how students no longer sat “stiff

Pucci’s designs caught the psychedelic mood of the ’60s.

photo credits, from left: © David Lees/Corbis • CAMERA PRESS/ Charlotte March • Reed Hauser Library special collections

and straitjacketed” like their grandmothers. Given that they were becoming freer in their manners, and began more frequently to travel the world, he sought designs that would be comfortable and not a source of worry. He took pride in his ability to “enhance the good lines and obliterate the bad ones.” His friends believe he kept that ability right up until his death in 1992 from a heart attack. “This era of ours, this century, had started under the insignia of industrial development,” Emilio reflected later in life. Democracy’s great conquest as it spread during the 20th century was to make design accessible to a much larger group of people, he said. While aristocrats once monopolized home decorations and fine clothes, he appreciated how everyone could wage their own domestic battles for taste and refinement. Problem was, once people had filled their houses with material possessions, they sought out “phony” spiritualism, according to his version of history. During this period, poets wrote incomprehensibly and socalled abstract expressionists slapped blue and black paint on pieces of cardboard. But starting in the ’60s, Emilio saw people awake to such false materialism and search for real values, a pursuit he hoped would continue through the 21st century.

Triumphant Return

Emilio eventually earned a doctorate in political science and law from the University of Florence and served two terms in the Italian Parliament, representing Florence for the Italian Liberal Party, which was

Pucci greets President Paul Bragdon at Reed’s 75th anniversary in 1987. (Note the blurry but still recognizable figure of Portland Mayor Bud Clark ’57 in the background.)

actually conservative regarding economic issues. (In 1972 he lost his reelection bid and the party fell below 2% in the polls— Emilio was better about predicting trends in fashion than in politics.) After marrying Roman Baronessa Cristina Nannini, Emilio famously proclaimed, “I married a Botticelli.” Emilio returned to Portland in 1957, when he partnered with Reed to bring a fashion show to the Portland Art Museum, which the Oregonian described as “the outstanding social event ever to be held in Portland.” He also came back to campus in 1987 to celebrate Reed’s 75th anniversary and designed a T-shirt for the event. Although he saw fashion “as an expression of a certain historical period,” Emilio’s work defied easy categorization. In 1961, the New York Times reviewed him favorably, writing, “Pucci, who is famous for his sportswear and who presented an outstanding group of it last weekend, proved in this second more-rounded collection that although casual clothes are still his strong point, he can hold his own with the best of them in other areas of design.” In an age of anxiety about uniformity and mass production, the Times noted that Emilio’s designs were at once innovative and traditional. “Pucci’s town coats and costumes had an air of dignity; colors were conservative; the line was slim and semi-fitted, with the skirts decidedly below the knees.” Emilio himself believed that his Reed education provided an invaluable foundation for working in fashion. “My MA at Reed, plus many other things I learned at Reed, are at

the basis of my formation in my career,” he said in 1962. “Designing today means understanding life as it is today—understanding social, political, and economic problems of the world at large and understanding people as individuals—and if you do, your designing has that universal quality which is the best mark of good design.” Emilio’s influence was lasting on both fashion and Reed. Although the fashion world tends to stereotype the Pucci style as part of the 20th-century zeitgeist, the New York Times declared “Pucci Is Relevant Again” after Beyoncé wore a boatnecked black gown at Obama’s inauguration. On Mount Hood, the Pucci chairlift and Pucci Glade commemorate a shared history. “Pucci’s really credited with bringing a sense of fashion to the ski world, and he locally pioneered a lot of those tailored ski pants and cuffed jackets that are still popular,” says Jon Tullis, spokesman for Timberline Lodge. Without Emilio, President Keezer would probably never have authorized the construction of the Reed ski cabin, which still welcomes students and alumni after long days on the slopes. Emilio demonstrated his skiing ability to the skeptical President by boosting Keezer’s 6-year-old daughter Nan onto his relatively slight shoulders and whizzing down a Mount Hood slope. He triggered “something approaching an apoplectic seizure” in Keezer by coming to a “spectacular snow-showering stop”—a stunt that was sheer ecstasy for Nan. Raymond Rendleman ’06 is the news editor of the Clackamas Review.

march 2014 Reed magazine 33

Reediana Books by Reedies

Stem Cells: An Insider’s Guide Stem cells are your body’s most protean agents: supercells that can change into any needed tissue, they offer the hope of amazing regeneration and miraculous cures. Advancements in handling, maintaining, and producing stem cell lines have stirred great excitement and opened novel lines of research that promise tantalizing therapeutic possibilities. These advancements, however, have also given birth to a shady underworld. In Stem Cells: An Insider’s Guide, Paul Knoepfler spells out the basics of stem cells—what they are and what they aren’t—and addresses some of the serious problems facing stem cell science today. A preeminent advocate for—and critic of—this new field, Knoepfler has gained renown not only as a stem cell scientist, but also as the topic’s most influential blogger

Paul Knoepfler ’89

World Scientific Publishing, 2013

(Reed, March 2012), bringing to his writing the unusual perspective of being both a stem cell researcher and a cancer survivor. In his blog, he has mixed it up with just about everyone in the stem cell field: serious researchers, patients desperate for cures, and a rogue’s gallery of charlatans and quacks. Stem Cells: An Insider’s Guide continues this work, providing a detailed view of the current state of stem cell research and the stem cell industry—good, bad, and ugly. Because stem cell science is young, promises miraculous results, and dwells in a legal gray area ahead of legislation and regulation, it offers irresistible bait and cover for shady operators out to turn a buck off vulnerable patients. The examples Knoepfler cites range from the pathetic to the macabre: a $625-per-ounce stem cell face cream

Transhumanist Dreams and Dystopian Nightmares In 1987, my best friend curled up on the girls’ bathroom tiles with a wrenching pain in her gut and a raging fever. Her back-tothe-land parents refused medicine that might weaken the species. No eyeglasses, vaccines, or Tylenol. But that afternoon, her father drove her to the hospital for a lifesaving appendectomy. It ended her parents’ marriage. Similar cases have reached courts all over the country in the last few years. Is there a difference between idealistic hippies who resist medical intervention and religious fundamentalists who believe medicine defies the doctrine of their church? What about parents who seek new medical 34 Reed magazine March 2014

that contains stem cells from trees, doctors in developing nations injecting medical tourists with stem cells from barnyard animals, and a “stem cell facelift” involving actual human stem cells that, once injected, transformed into a bone growth sticking into one unlucky patient’s eyeball. If you or someone you care about is considering a treatment involving stem cells, this guide is indispensable. In plain language, Knoepfler spells out exactly what stem cells can and cannot do. Medically proven stem cell treatments can be counted on one hand. Everything else, he points out, is an experiment. While some of these experimental treatments are ethically conducted by reputable clinicians, most are of dubious value or are outright frauds. Knoepfler’s guide identifies honest operators and provides the tools you need to spot bad ones, to advocate for yourself, and maybe even to talk Grandma out of it. —William Abernathy ’88

Maxwell J. Mehlman ’70

advantages for their children, but in doing so risk their child’s life? This is the world of inquiry and case law from which Max Mehlman, professor of law and biomedical ethics and codirector of the Law-Medicine Center at Case Western Reserve University, conducts his exploration of how our current legal and ethical structures prepare us (or, perhaps more accurately, don’t prepare us) for genetic engineering in humans. Transhumanist Dreams explores the promise and the perils of genetic engineering. Mehlman draws on the manifestos of idealistic transhumanists, who believe we can

Johns Hopkins University Press, 2012

enhance human intelligence, eliminate pain and aging, and reduce our environmental impact. He also plumbs the depths of horrific social inequality, unintended medical consequences, and corporate incentives to control human evolution portrayed in science fiction. Mehlman’s treatment of the topic is even-handed, provocative, and highly readable. He makes the case that human genetic engineering is inevitable, as are the mistakes that might imperil one child or the entire species. Are we prepared for these mistakes? Mehlman sets the table for lawmakers and thought leaders to look squarely at the risks we face, and to begin addressing the many questions he asks. —Caitlin Baggott ’99

Behind the Curve: Science and the Politics of Global Warming Prof. Joshua Howe [history 2012–] University of Washington Press, 2014

In 1958, an obscure young chemist named Charles Keeling began measuring the concentration of CO 2 in the earth’s atmosphere at the Mauna Loa Observatory in Hawaii. His project kicked off a half century of research that has expanded our knowledge of climate change. Despite more than 50 years of research, however, our global society has yet to find real solutions to the problem of global warming. Why? In Behind the Curve, Prof. Joshua Howe attempts to answer this question. He explores the history of global warming from its roots as a scientific curiosity to its place at the center of international environmental politics. The book follows the story of rising CO2— illustrated by the now-infamous Keeling Curve—through a number of historical contexts, highlighting the relationships among scientists, environmentalists, and politicians as those relationships have changed over time. The nature of the problem itself, Howe explains, has privileged scientists as the primary spokespeople for the global climate. But while the “science first” forms of advocacy they developed to fight global warming produced more and better science, the primacy of science in global warming politics has failed to produce meaningful results. In fact, an often-exclusive focus on science has left advocates for change vulnerable to political opposition and has limited much of the discussion to debates about the science itself. As a result, while we know much more about global warming than we did 50 years ago, carbon dioxide continues to rise. In 1958, Keeling first measured CO2 at around 315 parts per million; by 2013, global CO2 had soared to 400 ppm. The problem is not getting better—it’s getting worse. Behind the Curve offers a critical look at how this happened, along with an introduction by William Cronon. Joshua Howe teaches environmental history, the history of science, and 20th-century American history at Reed.

“Getting in is just the beginning.” —NIGEL NICHOLSON D e a n o f t h e Fa c u l t y a n d Wa l t e r M i n t z P r o f e s s o r o f C l a s s i c s

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Reediana Cold Mountain Poems: Twenty-Four Poems by H’an-Sh’an, handwritten by Michael McPherson ’68 (Counterpoint Press, 2013). First printed in 1958, Gary [’51] Snyder’s translation of poems by H’an-Sh’an was handwritten by Michael in 1969, and later printed by John Laursen ’67 at Press-22. In this new edition, dedicated to Lloyd Reynolds [English & art, 1929– 69], Michael’s calligraphy is placed alongside woodblock images from The Mustard Seed Garden Manual of Painting and includes afterwords by Gary and Michael and a CD of the Stronach Memorial Lecture at the University of California, Berkeley, in May 2012, given by Gary, in which he reflects on his relationship with Chinese poetry, H’an-Sh’an, and his own work as a poet and translator. The Foreign Exchange Matrix: A New Framework for Understanding Currency Movements, by Barbara Rockefeller ’68 (Harriman House, 2013). The foreign exchange (FX) market is huge, fascinating, and yet widely misunderstood by participants and nonparticipants alike, due to numerous unanswered questions, such as: What is the purpose of the $4 trillion-per-day trading volume? What determines currency trends and who are the players in the FX arena? Barbara and coauthor Vicki Schmelzer draw on a combined 50 years’ experience in foreign exchange to “cut through the clutter and provide an elegant and razor-sharp look” at this market. The analysis presented in this volume is accurate, useful, and enlivened by many anecdotes and examples from historic market events. Barbara is the founder of Rockefeller Treasury Services, an independent research firm specializing in international financial market consulting with an emphasis on foreign exchange forecasting and currency management. Emily Dickinson and Philosophy, by Gary Stonum ’69 (Cambridge University Press, 2013). Gary is coeditor of this collection of essays by various scholars examining Dickinson’s thinking in relation to philosophers from her own time and afterwards. Essays aim to clarify the ideas at stake in Dickinson’s poems by reading them in the context of one or more relevant philosophers, including near contemporaries, such as Nietzsche Kierkegaard, and Hegel, and later philosophers whose methods are implied in her poetry,

36 Reed magazine March 2014

including Levinas, Sartre, and Heidegger. The Dickinson who emerges is a curious, open-minded interpreter of how human beings make sense of the world—one for whom poetry is a component of a lifelong philosophical project. (See Class Notes.) Laura Leviton ’73 is the coauthor of one of the 10 best-selling reports of the National Academy of Sciences this year, “Evaluating Obesity Prevention Efforts: A Plan for Measuring Progress.” Read more online at tinyurl.com /kxsta8l. (See Class Notes.) The Crooked Mirror: A Memoir of Polish-Jewish Reconciliation, by Louise Steinman ’73 (Beacon Press, 2013). In 2000, Louise attended the weeklong Bearing Witness Retreat at Auschwitz-Birkenau, organized by the Zen Peacemaker Order. Until that time, she’d known very little about family left behind in Poland, about Polish history, or about the weight of her own unexamined prejudices. During the decade that followed, she traveled in Poland and reestablished a relationship with the town where her mother’s family lived for hundreds of years. She writes of memory projects throughout Poland, stewarded by Polish citizens who seek to honor the memory of lost Jewish neighbors. Louise’s book is called provocative and ultimately redemptive, “a powerful reminder of how ideologies can become ‘crooked mirror(s)’ that distort reality and destroy lives, cultures, and nations.” More online at www.louisesteinman.com. Temporary Roses Dipped in Liquid Gold, by James Freeman ’78 (Finishing Line Press, 2013). The poems in Temporary Roses are beautifully crafted, and a “richly evocative landscape of discovery and loss, challenge and courage,” say reviewers. This new collection was the subject of a feature in the winter issue of Bucks County magazine and was also featured in Philadelphia Stories magazine. Completed during a sabbatical that James took in spring 2013, the collection shared the writing table with his first children’s book, “Lady and Sierra’s Storage Shed Summer.” He also wrote the monograph “A Literature Review on the Heuristics of Learning Writing, and a Discussion of Academic Rigor and (robo) Grading” for the November issue of the Journal of Language Teaching and Research; published the article “Creative Writing Pedagogy in the Two Year College: Lessons Learned and Literature Reviewed, Findings by a 35-year Teacher” in the September

2013 issue of Theory and Practice in Language Studies; and was coauthor of the book-length manuscript, “The Ancient Hyskos History of (Biblical) History.” (See Class Notes.) We Shall: Photographs by Paul D’Amato, by Paul D’Amato ’80 (DePaul Art Museum, 2013). Through emotionally charged portraits and richly layered interior views, Paul’s photographs made on Chicago’s West Side provide a nuanced perspective on life in some of the most challenging and troubled neighborhoods in the U.S. Equally committed to his craft and to immersing himself in the community, Paul’s collaborative approach to portraiture aspires to narrow the divide between his and his sitters’ subjective experiences in order to create photographs that are at once genuine and aesthetically engaging. We Shall brings together 10 years of work and offers insight into the making of the photographs. By pairing variants of a portrait from a single sitting, Paul seeks to complicate the images’ meaning by defying the authority of a single photograph as a comprehensive statement. Neither feel-good narratives nor stories of despair, his photographs convey the complexities of representation and the ambiguities of life in a socially and economically marginalized community. A Rough Deliverance: Collected Poems 1983–2013, by Nancy Gormley Bevilaqua ’85 (CreateSpace 2013). Many of the sonnets that Nancy wrote for her senior thesis with adviser Lisa Steinman [1976–],are included in this volume, as well as other poems Nancy wrote while at Reed. The collection includes work from her time in the graduate program in creative writing and poetry at New York University, as well as more recent poems, including five poems contained in her book Holding Breath: A Memoir of AIDS’ Wildfire Days. Jason Seidel ’90 published the article “Effect Size Calculations for the Clinician: Methods and Comparability,” in Psychotherapy Research, 2013. (See Class Notes.) Blogging the Revolution: Caracas Chronicles and the Hugo Chávez Era, by Francisco Toro ’97, coeditor (Cognitio Books, 2013). Francisco and CaracasChronicles.com blog coeditor Juan Cristobal Nagel have selected the best work from their blog for this volume. Blogging the Revolution surveys the evolution both of chavismo and the opposition, the disintegration of Venezuela’s public sphere, the political economy of the petrostate, and its impact on

everyday life in the South American nation. In order to understand Chávez’s “bizarre regime,” says one reviewer, begin by reading this book. (See Class Notes.) A Perpetual Fire: John C. Ferguson and His Quest for Chinese Art and Culture, by Lara Netting ’98 (Hong Kong University Press, 2013). After serving as a missionary and then foreign advisor to Qing officials from 1887 to 1911, Canadian American John Ferguson became a leading dealer of Chinese art, providing the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Cleveland Museum of Art, and other museums with their inaugural collections of paintings and bronzes, and donating 1,000 objects—paintings, bronzes, rubbings, and other artifacts—to Nanjing University, the school he had helped to found as a young missionary. Lara’s book offers a significant contribution to the history of Chinese art collection and is a “meticulously researched study” that restores to Ferguson the credit he has long deserved. (See Class Notes.) The Glass Casket, by McCormick Templeman ’98 (Delacorte Press, 2014). Death hasn’t visited Rowan Rose since it took her mother when Rowan was only a little girl, but that changes one bleak morning, when five horses and their riders thunder into her village and through the forest, disappearing into the hills. Something has followed the path those riders made and has come down from the hills, through the forest, and into the village. Reviewers praise the stylish prose, richly developed characters, and well-realized world building, which create “a compelling blend of mythic elements and realistic teen experience.” How the Other Half Ate: A History of Working-Class Meals at the Turn of the Century, by Katherine Turner ’98 (University of California Press, 2013). How the Other Half Ate, part of the California Studies in Food and Culture series, expands on Katherine’s doctoral dissertation to investigate what workingclass people ate at the turn of the 20th century, and, more critically, how they cooked it. “The book examines cooking as a labor process, as part of the family economy, and as part of a neighborhood economy of food retailers, entrepreneurs, and home food production.” Katherine says that her dissertation and the book followed loosely on her Reed senior thesis, which was about canned food in the American kitchen at about the same time. The book is relevant reading for a range of disciplines—history, economics,

sociology, urban studies, women’s studies, and food studies—and fills an important gap in historical literature. “Turner delivers an engaging portrait that shows how America’s working class, in a multitude of ways, has shaped the foods we eat today.” (See Class Notes.) Connected by the Ear: The Media, Pedagogy, and Politics of the Romantic Lecture, by Sean Franzel ’00 (Northwestern University Press). The lecture has always been an integral component of German scholarly life, both in and outside the university. Connected by the Ear takes this fundamental place of the lecture as a point of departure, examining the pedagogical, institutional, and medial practices that produced the realities and myths of the modern, lecturing scholar—in particular how thinkers in the romantic era (between 1790 and 1815) privileged the lecture in reimagining scholarship. This was a time of political upheaval, university reform, and literary, philosophical, and scientific innovation, an era when a series of fraught questions arose for writers, teachers, and orators: What is the status and function of education? Does education serve the interests of state, society, or the individual? Who is the scholar’s proper audience? What kinds of interpersonal interaction do different media set in motion, and, more broadly, how does scholarship affect culture and politics? In examining a range of responses to these questions, Sean, assistant professor of German at the University of Missouri at Columbia, makes two central claims, namely that romantic attempts to reimagine the scholar shared a striking preoccupation with the scene of the lecture and that romantic visions of scholarly speech have had a lasting impact on how the institutional and medial manifestations of modern scholarship continue to be understood. Cecily Swanson ’05, doctoral candidate in English at Cornell University, has published “Conversation Pieces: Circulating Muriel Draper’s Salon” in the Journal of Modern Literature (Summer 2013). “Four years before Gertrude Stein’s The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas would become a bestseller, catapulting Stein from relative obscurity to celebrity, her friend Muriel Draper published a memoir of equal popularity, but considerably less cultural longevity. Music at Midnight (1929) describes the music salon Draper presided over in London [in] 1911–15, before she returned to her native America and became a leading New York socialite, writer, radio show host, interior decorator, and Communist activist.”

Everyone I Love Is a Stranger to Someone, by Annelyse Gelman ’13 (Write Bloody, 2014). From Greek mythology to Top 40, Pavlov to Sartre, the space station to the zoo, Annelyse’s range of reference is what steadies her hand as she dissects her generation’s fascination with love and belonging, with isolation and autonomy, with sex and sanctity, with the Bible and with Nietzsche, with doubt and with overwhelming hope, in this debut collection of poems. There are people that we love, she says, and then there are strangers. But everyone we love is a stranger to someone. Two poems, animated with Auden Lincoln-Vogel ’13, are available on YouTube: “An Illustrated Guide to the Post-Apocalypse” and “Giraffe.” (See Class Notes.) Woody on Rye: Jewishness in the Films and Plays of Woody Allen, coedited by Prof. Marat Grinberg [Russian 2006–] (Brandeis University Press, 2013). Marat and coeditor Vincent Brook introduce this anthology, which draws together a distinguished group of contributors in the fields of literature, philosophy, film, theatre, and comedy. The essays examine the schlemiel, Allen and women, the Jewish take on the “morality of murder,” Allen’s take on Hebrew scripture and Greek tragedy, his stage work, his cinematic treatment of food and dining, and what happens to “Jew York” when Woody takes his films out of New York City. Marat also contributes a comparative analysis, “The Birth of a Hebrew Tragedy: Cassandra’s Dream as a Morality Play in the Context of Crimes and Misdemeanors and Match Point.” The book is part of the Brandeis Series in American Jewish History, Culture, and Life. Justice, Politics, and the Family, by Prof. Tamara Metz [poli sci 2006–] (Paradigm Publishers, 2013). At a time when samesex marriage, gay adoption, and the rise of single-parent households challenge traditional views of the family, this collection of readings provides both social and legal perspective on the issues. Introductions by Metz and coeditor Daniel Engster trace key ethical, political, and legal principles at stake, and offer interpretive summaries and recommended readings.

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In Memoriam Elizabethan Scholar, Influential Teacher Wallace Trevethic MacCaffrey ’42 December 13, 2013, in Cambridge, England.

Wallace MacCaffrey, a figure of towering stature in the field of English history and Francis Lee Higginson Professor of History Emeritus at Harvard University, died at 93. “Although he had been failing physically for some time, he retained his formidable mental capacities to the end and died peacefully and without pain in Addenbrookes Hospital in Cambridge,” wrote Prof. David Sacks [history 1986–]. “A good death after a long and good life.” Wallace spent his childhood on a farm in La Grande, Oregon. His parents were immigrants from Great Britain and his father served in the U.S. Army during World War I. He developed an interest in reading at an early age, preferring this over social activities of other children, he said in an interview in 2003. He received special permission to have a library card, which gave him access to a great many historical works, as well as English, French, and Russian novels, and he was well prepared for high school courses. The year following graduation, he earned money for college by working as a secretary and stenographer at a local flour mill. Then he enrolled in a two-year liberal arts course at Eastern Oregon College of Education (now Eastern Oregon University), and following that, enrolled at Reed, moving with his parents to Portland. He completed the thesis, “The Canadian Nation and the British Commonwealth, 19171926,” with Reginald Arragon [history 1923– 62; 1970–74] as his adviser. Drafted into the army in the spring of his senior year, but found to be underweight, his enlistment was postponed until fall 1942. While awaiting enlistment, he worked for the Portland office of the Union Pacific Railway, and during World War II received language training and supervised Italian soldiers who had been taken prisoner in North Africa. His service ended in 1946 and he entered Harvard that fall, teaching briefly at Reed in the interim. Wallace earned a PhD from Harvard in 1950 and then taught at UCLA and Haverford College. In 1956, he married Isobel Gamble, a nationally known authority on English Renaissance literature, and, later, the first woman to chair the history and literature department at Harvard. They spent their honeymoon in England, where Wallace studied at Churchill College in Cambridge on a Guggenheim Fellowship. In 1968–69, they returned to England when he was a fellow at Churchill College. Isobel’s death 48 Reed magazine March 2014

from cancer came in 1978. The focus of Wallace’s historical interest was early modern British history, particularly, but not exclusively, of politics and of policy making in the Elizabethan era. His first book, Exeter, 1540– 1640: The Growth of an English Country Town, published in 1958, set the agenda for all subsequent work by others in early modern English urban history and remains a model for similar studies. Wallace then went on to investigate the significance of great matters of state in the history of the Elizabethan era, and of the era’s influence on modern Britain and the modern state. The first of three volumes, The Shaping of the Elizabethan Regime, was published in 1968. “Wallace, whose graduate student I was at Harvard, told me that Rex Arragon was the finest teacher with whom he had studied or that he had ever observed, someone who knew how to guide a discussion without appearing to do so but also without letting ignorance or error go uncorrected,” Sacks says. “Something clearly rubbed off, since Wallace is certainly the finest teacher I have known in any capacity—an exemplary mentor, an extraordinary and lucid lecturer, and a brilliant conference and seminar leader in the Rex Arragon and Reed manner.” Lifelong friend Carl Stevens ’42 [economics 1954–90] revered Wallace’s skills as an historian. These, according to Sacks, include “an abiding curiosity about what had happened in the past; a relentless instinct for digging into the surviving evidence to get to the bottom of things; a devotion to precision and accuracy in regard to the facts; judiciousness and sound judgment in interpreting what he had found; an astute critical eye always exercised in a spirit of generosity; an ‘awesome’ and awe-inspiring capacity to tell a story in a vivid and lucid way; and perhaps—above all—a breadth of historical interests and a passion for knowledge about the past that with only a bit of exaggeration makes real the adage derived from the Roman playwright Terence: ‘Nothing human is alien to me.’” Wallace demonstrated these qualities practically every day, says Sacks, by leaving his home in the village of Girton Cambs near Cambridge— where he settled in retirement—and making his way into the Cambridge University Library. “One could almost always find him there in the library’s tea room around 11 a.m., ready for an illuminating conversation about history or literature or politics and current affairs, and in the reading room the rest of the day, devouring one work of history and then the next. He was a great fan of big books—big in size, big in scope, and big in

Wallace and Isobel Gamble MacCaffrey in 1972.

conception. He thought of reading these books as his sustenance, and often spoke of having a ‘good diet’ of them. If you are seeking someone living what is sometimes called ‘the life of the mind,’ Wallace would be a model.” Wallace was presented the Levinson Award for the best undergraduate teaching at Harvard for the academic year 1983–84, retired as faculty emeritus in 1990, and then moved to England, where he was a fellow at Trinity Hall, and, according to Sacks, “a presence and friend to generations of young scholars as well as Cambridge dons and library regulars ever since.” For his distinction as an historian, he was also presented the Foster-Scholz Club Distinguished Service Award in 1992. In 2004, Wallace received one of the American Historical Association’s (AHA) prestigious awards for scholarly distinction, recognizing him as a scholar “whose moderation, judicious presentations, careful probing of the evidence, and great narrative skills transcend momentary academic battles and manifest wisdom and fair-mindedness in assessing historical arguments.” The AHA cited his exceptional standards in historical writing, his selfless scholarship, and his generosity of spirit, which extended to students, colleagues, and historians everywhere. In 2012, the Reed history department, along with the president’s office, initiated an annual lectureship, the Wallace T. MacCaffrey Distinguished Lecture in History, to honor him not only for distinguished scholarship, but also for his devotion to the college. He was a longtime and generous donor. “I feel a great sense of debt to Reed,” Wallace said. “At a crucial moment in my life, it offered me what I wanted and gave it to me in a very rich way. Both in the kind of teaching I got and the kind of intellectual life I found among my fellow students.”

Sydney Gorham Babson ’33

September 5, 2010, in Portland.

Gorie grew up in Hood River Valley, where his parents owned an apple and pear orchard. He spent two years at Reed before transferring to the University of Oregon, where he earned undergraduate and medical degrees. After a fiveyear-old relative died from bacterial meningitis, he decided to specialize in pediatrics and did training at Columbia Presbyterian Babies Hospital and at Stanford Medical School. While in New York, he married Ruth E. Lambert, a nursing scholar at Boston College. Gorie had a private pediatric practice in Portland, which he managed for 20 years. “Starting in, it was in the Depression. Business was poor. There were only six pediatricians in the whole area from Oregon City to Vancouver, Washington. House calls were the biggest business in those days, and that covered a lot of ground. I sometimes had as many as a hundred a month.” He was hired as the first full-time pediatric staff member at Doernbecher Hospital (now Doernbecher Children’s Hospital at Oregon Health & Science University) and became the first perinatologist in Oregon. “I got more excited about hospital life and training, and, in 1961, I somewhat sadly signed out my private practice with personal letters.” Gorie headed up the perinatology division at the hospital and developed and directed the Neonatal Intensive Care Center. He created the first neonatal growth charts and a modern infant scale, and did research on infant nutrition and growth. He also helped establish a regional transport system for babies in distress. “There were no private planes in those days, and we found the best thing to do was send a plane to the hospital with the baby in trouble—send the nurses along and the doctor, so they could give care in their birth room and then take the baby back to Doernbecher. This was so exciting, and so helpful.” He was coauthor of the first book on premature infants, a primer on prematurity and high-risk pregnancy, Diagnosis and Management of the Fetus and Neonate at Risk: A Guide for Team Care. In 1977, he retired and set a course to take one world-trip a year and to write about each one—nearly 20 booklets resulted. He also wrote poetry. In 2003, Gorie was recognized with the American Pediatric Society Perinatal Pioneer Award and OHSU established the Gorham Babson Lecture in Neonatology. Survivors include five daughters, 12 grandchildren, and 6 great-grandchildren. His wife died in 2000. “A gentle-hearted and kind man, he was loved and admired by everyone.”

John Rees Moore ’40 August 3, 2013, in Roanoke, Virginia.

John earned a BA from Reed and an MA from Harvard in English, after which he enlisted in the army and served with the U.S. Eighth Army Air Force in England. Following World War II, he taught at several universities before resuming his studies and earning a PhD in English

from Columbia University. He joined the English department at Hollins College in Roanoke, where he taught for 28 years. John published essays, book reviews, and his own poetry in a number of publications, including the Sewanee Review. He also was editor of the Holins Critic, a literary journal. His special interest was in Irish literature. On a Danforth Grant, he attended the first (W.B.) Yeats International Summer School in 1960 in Sligo, Ireland, and spent a year on sabbatical in Ireland, working on a book on Yeats’ drama Masks of Love and Death, which was published in 1971. He was president of the American Committee for Irish Studies and also traveled for academic presentations and study in Lebanon and Greece. John was preceded in death by Elizabeth L. Drawbaugh Moore, to whom he was married for 56 years, and is survived by his son, daughter, and sister.

Carroll Henshaw Hendrickson Jr. ’42

September 3, 2013, in Frederick, Maryland.

Carroll grew up in Frederick, in the county where his family had resided since the early 1700s. After attending public schools in town, Carroll went to Beacon School in Massachusetts and then came to Reed. Financial support for his first year came from his uncle Hunt Hendrickson, father of Ames B. Hendrickson ’48, who lived in Portland, and who introduced Carroll to many aspects of Portland society. Carroll’s roommate was Jack Dudman ’42, and other college friends included Sam McCall ’42, his twin sister, Jean McCall Babson ’42, Florence Walls Lehman ’42, Hallie Rice ’45, and Carl Stevens ’42 [also professor of economics 1954-90]. Carroll enjoyed classes with Barry Cerf [English 1921– 48] and Rex Arragon [history 1923–62; 1970– 74], and worked with thesis adviser George B. Noble [political science 1922–48]. He was less interested in majoring in a subject, he confessed in an interview in 2005, and more interested in getting a good education, which he found at Reed. Carroll enjoyed the social life at the college, attending formal dances; hiking and skiing; singing with the Boar’s Head Ensemble, the Madrigals, and the Glee Club; and listening to music in Capehart. An accomplished pianist, Carroll found the venture into vocal groups very satisfying. He memorized the score of Gilbert & Sullivan’s Trial by Jury in his room in Winch, in order to perform it in spring 1942 and lose no time for work on his thesis. (Carroll played piano throughout his life, preferring duets, chamber music, show tunes, and popular music of World War II.) He also attended local concerts and opera. Through music, he became friends

with Jacob Avshalomov ’43 and Doris Felde Avshalomov ’43. To earn money for college expenses past the first year, Carroll worked in the Commons at 40¢ an hour, including summers. One year, Miss Brownlie [Ann R. 1930–43] gave him the job of supervising the storage room in exchange for room and board. (“In my Navy years, I was thankful for remembering the manner in which she wrote out job descriptions and trained us. Most people don’t go to Reed for that!”) At meetings of the Young People’s Fellowship Trinity Episcopal Church in northwest Portland, Carroll became better acquainted with Margaret M. Doane ’42. After Reed, Carroll served in the US Navy and sent Margie a marriage proposal from Funafuti in the Ellis Islands. They married in 1944. During the war, Carroll was engaged in a number of invasions as a watch officer and navigator in the amphibious forces in the central Pacific. (He remained in the naval reserves, retiring as a lieutenant commander.) After the war, Carroll and Margie moved to Frederick. Carroll was determined to be the sole support for his family and went to work at Hendrickson’s, “an old-fashioned, middle-ofthe-road store” established in 1877 by his grandfather. He was assistant manager and buyer and assumed ownership of the store in 1967. “By that time, Hendrickson’s was the last independent store of our type in downtown Frederick.” He operated the store for 13 years and made a lot of money, he said, going out of business. Carroll did volunteer work for the archives of the Episcopal Diocese of Maryland, the Maryland Historical Society, the Historical Society of Frederick County, and the archives of All Saints Church in Frederick, where he also was a member of the vestry and choir and a Sunday school teacher. He assisted the Frederick city orchestra and joined the board of the Baltimore Symphony, rising to the position of board president. “All during the time I was trying to run the store, I’d also go into Baltimore to help plan the programs, until I’d gotten to know everybody on their staff, all the musicians. I got to associate with some of the best musicians in the country.” He served as director of concert development in 1980–87. In retirement, Carroll also traveled, making 17 trips to Europe and 22 transcontinental trips. When his travels concluded, he continued to drive locally, especially to the local community college, where he found books for his own “homemade” English or French courses. Carroll stayed in touch with Ames, Ellie Boettiger Seagraves ’49 and Van Seagraves ’48; he gardened, and played piano for residents in his retirement home in Frederick. Margie died in 2003 and a daughter died in 2011. Survivors include a daughter and son, three grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren.

march 2014 Reed magazine 49

In Memoriam Marcella Ann Cobb ’43

August 30, 2013, in Portland.

Marcella was born in her parent’s house on Main Street on Mount Tabor. She attended Glencoe Elementary School, Washington High School, and followed her elder sister, Janette L. Cobb Schneider ’41, to Reed, where she earned a degree in math— the only woman in her graduating class to do so. She graduated from Reed on a Sunday and went to work as an actuary for Standard Insurance of Portland the following Monday. She remained with Standard for 30 years. Her lifelong passion was dogs. From her first dog, Rin in 1936, to her last dog, Katie, she was never without their company. On retiring from Standard she operated Misty Meadow Kennels on the family farm in Damascus until 2006. She loved Cairn Terriers and owned, bred, raised, and showed them for more than 50 years. She was proud of her Swedish heritage and her pioneer ancestors. Her great-grandfather, Chauncey Hosford, farmed 200 acres on top of Mount Tabor, and, in 1847, conducted the first formal religious service in Portland. According to a biography of Reverend Hosford, written by Marcella in 1991, Portland at the time consisted of “14 log cabins.” As a child and an adult, Marcella possessed a willingness to be pleased, and so she was. In a life long enough to experience a full share of life’s unavoidable tragedies, she still found something to be happy about every day of her life. She is survived by her five nieces and nephews, including Jeffrey L. Cobb ’80, who provided this wonderful memorial for his aunt.

Edward Gunn Watson ’43

August 15, 2013, in Eugene, Oregon.

Ed transferred into Reed from Oregon State College (University), and earned a BA in political science. He had fond memories of rowing crew at a time when Reed gained press for having the first female coxswain in collegiate rowing, Mary Elizabeth Russell Bauer ’43. Ed and Ruth S. Hahnel ’43 married in 1942. Of life after Reed, Ed recalled: “The ink was scarcely dry on my Reed diploma in early 1943, when I was inducted into the U.S. Army Air Corps. After 35 missions as a B-24 bomber pilot in the 8th Air Force, I, like thousands of others, concluded that army life was not for me.” Between missions, Ed was delighted to explore his family roots in visits to the Scottish Highlands. After his service 50 Reed magazine March 2014

concluded, Ed earned an MA in political science at the University of Washington and then taught at Whitman College. To make ends meet on a teacher’s salary, he moonlighted as executive secretary of the county planning commission. Two years later he became the first full-time planning director for Walla Walla. “Along the way, I picked up some additional hats as a volunteer fireman, fire district commissioner, and county civil defense director.” In 1962, he returned to Oregon as an urban planning consultant on the staff of the University of Oregon Bureau of Municipal Research and Service, which had been founded by Herman Kehrli ’23. He and Ruth parted ways in 1966, but remained lifelong friends in the care of their daughter and son. A brief marriage to Dolores Epps ended with her sudden death and he later married Mary S. Huser. The couple lived in Eugene, where they were active in Westminster Presbyterian Church and maintained a flourishing garden—Ed was said to be the first person to produce kiwi fruit in Oregon. They also traveled abroad. Ed loved life and learning, and was interested in everything from rocks to astronomy. Mary died in 2006.

Eileen Ruth Pease Kuhns ’45 March 15, 2013, in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.

Eileen was orphaned at the age of 2, and lived with several of her relatives before she “struck out on her own” and returned to her hometown of Portland at 15. She went to Reed on a full scholarship, earning a BA in sociology. The Reed experience, and the humanities program in particular, were the “springboard” for her life, she wrote. In May 1945, she married college sweetheart Edward Douglas Kuhns ’45, whom she found to be a kindred soul. Both Eileen and Douglas completed doctoral degrees at Syracuse University—Eileen’s was in sociology and anthropology. Eileen was a gifted researcher, who wrote numerous textbooks and papers and coauthored the book Managing Academic Change: Interactive Forces and Leadership in Higher Education (1975). She served as a director and trustee for the Middle States Association of Colleges and Schools. She taught at Syracuse, Lake Forest College, and Montgomery College—where she advanced to the position of executive dean—and was dean of the faculty at Mount Vernon College. She was cofounder and president of Washington International College in Washington, D.C., and she taught sociology, anthropology, and statistical methodology at American University, George Washington University, and later Catholic University, where she retired. The university’s president and her graduate students begged her not to retire, but she made the decision to do so

at the onset of Alzheimer’s disease. In a very busy life, Eileen found time to garden and to help rescue stray animals. Survivors include Douglas; children John, D.C., Paul, and Anne; and 8 grandchildren. “She taught them all that the world is an open and beckoning place, waiting to give you what you seek to find. She taught them the importance of giving back; always striving to leave the world a better place than you found it.”

Robert Wentler Twigg ’46 October 6, 2013, in Spokane, Washington.

Bob served in the navy during World War II. He studied mathematics and physics at Reed and the University of Washington, and completed his undergraduate degree at Whitman College. He then earned an LLD at Gonzaga University and practiced law in Spokane for 40 years. Bob served in the Washington State Senate in 1966– 74. He enjoyed reading, travel, sports, and mowing the lawn. Survivors include his wife, Joan Barrett Twigg, to whom he was married for 40 years; a daughter and two sons; a stepson; and five grandchildren.

Patricia Elvira Ball ’47

August 20, 2013, in Portland, from complications of Alzheimer’s disease.

Patricia and her mother moved from Chicago to Portland, where she began her schooling. She attended Reed for three years, focusing on sociology and psychology, and then trained with the IRS for a career as an auditor. She worked for 40 years in the field. In addition, she was a master gardener, loved dogs and cats, and was a member of Mt. Olivet Baptist Church. Reed provided her with “a continuous curiosity and interest in learning more about almost everything,” she wrote in 1989.

Henry William Wyld Jr. ’49 October 16, 2013, in Urbana, Illinois.

A Portland native, Bill was a month shy of 17 when he entered college. At Reed, he met Jeanne-Marie Bergheim ’49—whom he married in 1955—and developed a lifelong interest in mathematics and theoretical physics. He earned a BA in physics, graduating Phi Beta Kappa. On a fellowship from the Atomic Energy Commission, he went on to the University of Chicago, where he earned a PhD, completing a doctoral thesis on quantum field theory. He was an instructor in physics at Princeton University in 1954–57 and worked on research in particle physics. Bill, Jeanne-Marie, and their first child then moved to Urbana, Illinois, where Bill joined the faculty in physics at the University of Illinois, where he taught for 38 years. During

his career, he also served as a consultant for the Ramo-Wooldridge Corporation, Space Technology Laboratories, and Gulf Oil. He worked in plasma physics, in fluid mechanics, and with the early mathematical development of tomography. He took sabbaticals at Oxford University in England and at CERN in Geneva, Switzerland, where he worked on theoretical studies in high-energy particle physics. He also worked at the Los Alamos Laboratory in New Mexico. He published numerous articles on theoretical physics and wrote the book Mathematical Methods for Physics. Bill also enjoyed history, biology, languages, music, and travel. His kindness and generosity, his delightful sense of humor and love of life, are greatly missed by family and friends. Bill was predeceased by JeanneMarie, and a daughter and son. He is survived by a daughter and grandson. A cousin, Garrard E. Wyld ’41, also graduated from Reed.

Reeve Edward Erickson ’50

April 15, 2013, in Portland.

Reeve grew up in Gresham and joined the Civilian Conservation Corps in 1941.He later worked at the Oregon shipyard and then enlisted with the marines, serving with the 4th Marine Division in the Pacific Theatre. Following the war, he enrolled at Reed, where he earned a BA in psychology. “I will always remember Monte Griffith [psychology 1926–54],” he wrote. After graduation, he rejoined the corps and was sent to Korea. Injuries during this time led to his retirement from the corps and a return to school. He earned an MS in psychology from the University of Portland and the same year married Mitzi Jones. He was a school psychologist with Multnomah County until he retired in 1983. He also was a mental health examiner for the court in commitment hearings for 20 years. Reeve and Mitzi enjoyed travel, hiking, bicycle riding, ballroom dancing, and bowling with seniors. In addition, he wrote poetry. Survivors include his wife, his stepson and stepdaughter, a grandson and great-granddaughter, and two sisters.

Robert Madison Maxwell ’50 June 23, 2013, in Lakewood, Tacoma.

The year before Robert earned his BA from Reed in chemistry, he married Mary L. Weible ’49, MAT ’67. Mary traveled by ship to Japan to be with him during his service as a flight engineer with the air force during the

Korean War. Robert also earned a BA in education at the University of Puget Sound and an MA in counseling and psychology from South Dakota State University. He and Mary taught in the Clover Park School District in Tacoma and truly enjoyed their retirement that began in 1989. Following Mary’s death in 2009, Robert revisited Reed with his daughter and son and was delighted to return to the setting of so many happy memories.

John Kenneth Fiedler ’51 September 18, 2013, in Seattle, Washington.

At 16, John moved from Minnesota to Oregon, where he built ships before being drafted into service during World War II. He attended Reed for three years and then moved to Seattle, where he worked for Boeing for 35 years as an engineer and strategic planner. A passionate liberal and Democrat, he fought for civil rights and peace. John lived 10 years in Naches, Washington, raising apples with his wife, Beth. He was predeceased by his wife and a son and daughter. Survivors include a daughter and son, nine grandchildren, six great-grandchildren, and a sister.

Leroy Skibsted Caspersen ’52 July 20, 2013, in Portland, from cancer.

Following his service in the navy during World War II, Cap married Coralee Stump, moved to Portland, and enrolled at Reed. He earned a BA in biology. “I received an excellent education and developed superb work habits.” Cap received an MD from the University of Oregon Medical School and began a practice in obstetrics and gynecology in Portland in 1960 that spanned 48 years and was marked by the delivery of 6,000 babies—including his grandchildren. He was a passionate golfer, a member of the Portland Golf Club, and he enjoyed skiing, tennis, and bridge. He was a member of the Multnomah Athletic Club and read two or three novels each week. A sudden decline in his health two months before his death, which baffled physicians, was finally diagnosed as metastasized cancer. Survivors include three children and six grandchildren. His wife died in 2004. “He was a wonderful father, father-in-law, and grandfather, filled with unconditional love for us all.”

Narciso Schutz Padilla ’52 October 20, 2011, in the Philippines.

A family friend in the Philippines recommended Reed as the place for Narciso’s education. Narciso earned a BA in physics from the college and went on to earn an MS in civil engineering at MIT and an MS from Universidad de la Habana

in Cuba. In Cuba, he married Maria Martinez and worked as a civil engineer, designing bridges, high-rise buildings, commercial and industrial buildings, and housing projects in North and South America. He also completed studies at the University of Puerto Rico, where he worked as a structural engineer. He then specialized in the Prescon System, a prestressed concrete construction, and returned to the Philippines to establish Prescon Philippines in 1967. He was director of the Philippine Contractors Association and worked in a number of capacities in the concrete business and for his community. Narciso and Maria had a son and daughter and lived in Manila.

Lynne Clara Sherley ’53 September 26, 2013, in Portland.

Lynne earned a BA in anthropology from Reed and degrees in education and music from Portland State and Marylhurst universities. She taught fourth grade and orchestra in the Tigard Schools for 20 years. With her musical ability and a quick wit and wry sense of humor, she inspired many young musicians. She was accomplished in both piano and cello, and formed her own group, Trillium. Lynne also enjoyed making and teaching art, doing quilting, and traveling, and spoke six languages. She did organic gardening and supported many organizations, including Oregon Tilth and the Portland Japanese Garden. She was a member of the Ananda community, where she volunteered as a teacher and office assistant. Survivors include a son and two daughters, four grandchildren, and a brother.

David Ming-Li Lowe ’54

September 24, 2013, in Los Angeles, California.

Born in Shanghai to a father who was a foreignservice officer for the Chinese Nationalist Party, the Kuomingtang, and a graduate of the University of Chicago, David was educated in Calcutta, India, Buenos Aires, Argentina, and the U.S., and was, in his early years, “a mirror of the political, social, and economic make-up of my diplomat parents.” At the encouragement of his older brother, David enrolled at Reed. “My two years at Reed were years of change and discovery. For someone as naive as I, secluded from society by gated prep schools, the freedom of action, the newly made acquaintance of the other sex, and the involvement of weightier issues all helped to form the person I am today.” In particular, he enjoyed the company of his good friend Karl Metzenberg ’54. David studied in the combined program in engineering with Reed and MIT, but left the program after being recruited by California State Polytechnic, march 2014 Reed magazine 51

In Memoriam where he earned a BS in architectural engineering. He then obtained a BS in architecture and environmental design from USC, graduating in 1957 with the honor award for best design by the American Institute of Architecture Students (now Association of Student Chapters, AIA). David and Willoughby Greenwood ’55 married in 1959; the couple had a son and parted ways five years later. During the time that followed, David decided to pursue his interest in film. He completed a master’s degree in theatre arts through the motion picture department at UCLA in 1972. He made numerous musical promotion films and 4 feature films in the nearly 12 years he worked in the field. With the revenue he earned, he invested in local property. He returned to architecture and later married Adrienne J. Lowe; they were together until her death in 2007 and raised a daughter. David taught architecture in the School of Environmental Design at California Polytechnic State University in Pomona and at Los Angeles City College. His own practice as an architect began with industrial, large-scale projects using steel. He did mid-scale residential, commercial, and institutional work, and designed buildings that were earthquake resistant, introducing and utilizing the GERB vibration control system. He was largely responsible for the Lockheed-Martin complex at Sunnyvale, and best known for a number of notable residences of imaginative design. In 1994, the Southern California Chapter AIA selected David as one of 100 California architects with significant work in the last 100 years. Survivors include his children, two grandchildren, and a sister.

Waldo Rasmussen ’54

August 15, 2013, in New York City, from complications of Alzheimer’s disease.

A native of Tekoa, Washington, whose father was a Native American, Waldo worked at the Portland Art Museum while he was at Reed, where he earned a BA in general literature and graduated Phi Beta Kappa. He attended graduate school at the Institute of Fine Arts in New York and then joined the Museum of Modern Art, where he worked on the preparation and circulation of traveling exhibitions and became director of the department of circulating exhibitions in 1962. The experience, he said, “made me understand what it felt like to see exhibitions and original works of art for the first time after having seen them in reproductions only— away from the ‘center.’ It’s shaped the way I’ve always worked.” When the International Program became an independent department in 1969, Waldo was appointed to direct it. He organized the first exhibitions of modern American art to be sent abroad, an experience that he cited among the high points of his career. His landmark exhibition was Two Decades 52 Reed magazine March 2014

of American Paintings 1945–65 and American Abstract Expressionists, and he assembled the most extensive survey of modern Latin American art in the exhibition Latin American Artists of the Twentieth Century. He retired in 1994. In addition to his work in art, he enjoyed classical music, dance and theatre performances, and film. Waldo and Gail Marie (Geraldine) Preston ’52 were married in 1953 and had a son and daughter. Waldo is survived by his life companion and spouse, John Dowling; his son; and three grandchildren.

Ruth Volkmann ’54

June 15, 2013, in Seattle, Washington.

Ruth earned a BA and BFA from Reed and the Museum Art School (Pacific Northwest College of Art). She studied with Lloyd Reynolds [English & art 1929–69], painter Michael Russo, and sculptor Frederic Littman in 1948–56. She described her own work, done in acrylic on canvas and on hardboard, as primitive realism. Ruth sought to enlarge the viewer’s appreciation of the natural world by portraying it in a flat perspective. She avoided spatial and atmospheric depth and eliminated some scenic details in order to create a painting that was more “true,” she said, rather than realistic. Her work appeared in numerous exhibitions in the Pacific Northwest. Ruth taught art in public schools and worked in commercial art in Zurich, Switzerland. She had a great love for New England, where she spent her childhood, and the Pacific Northwest coast and mountain ranges. She lived in Vermont and in Eugene, Oregon, before moving to the Seattle area in the early ’80s. Survivors include her sisters, Ann Volkmann Dick ’50 and Elizabeth Young.

Herbert Kyle Beals ’55

November 2, 2013, in Gladstone, Oregon.

A celebrated author and educational advocate, Herb will be remembered as one of Oregon’s most notable native historians. In addition to his unsurpassed histories of Gladstone and Oregon City, he contributed to national biographical publications, including the Who’s Who series, the Oxford Companion to World Exploration, and Coins Magazine, which drew from his own extensive collection of ancient Roman currency. Herb was born in Portland to Jim and Mae

Beals, owners of Beals Grocery in southeast Portland. Herb delivered groceries, sometimes by the streetcar trolleys. He was valedictorian at Jefferson High School at age 16 and then came to Reed, playing on the football team, which maintained a spotless record until an accidental victory ended its losing streak. (After the game, he joined the campuswide lamentations.) Herb continued his education at Portland State, where he obtained a bachelor’s degree in social sciences and where a plaque recognizes his achievements. As part of his military service in the mid-’50s, he helped spy on Russia and Cuba for the federal organization that later became the National Security Administration. Working for Clackamas County and Metro in the planning department, he drew up maps when they were still done by hand. In 1965, he took a planning position with the University of Oregon. Five years later, he went to work as a planner with the Columbia Region Association of Governments. Throughout most of his life, he was active in the Mazamas and the Geological Society of the Oregon Country. He helped the U.S. Forest Service produce On the Mountain’s Brink, a book on the 1980 Mount St. Helens eruption. For his skill in uncovering important documents, in particular “Juan Pérez on the Northwest Coast: Six Documents of His Expedition in 1774,” he received the North American Society for Oceanic History’s John Lyman Award in 1990. As one of his many hobbies, he made masks for various purposes—one remains on display at Timberline Lodge. Herb joined the Oregon Archeological Society in 1970 and was twice elected president of the organization. As a member of the Oregon Historical Society, he made it his personal duty to seek out the answer to any question he was asked. Many considered him a “great living encyclopedia.” Fellow members of Oregon City’s Atkinson Memorial Church, where Herb wrote the nine-part Definitive History of the Unitarian Universalist congregation, said that Herb was the reason that they were members. At the Gladstone Chautauqua Festival, his favorite event of the year, Herb participated in the parade and set up a booth for the Gladstone Historical Society. He gave tours of local historical homes during the festival and knew all the facts about the city from writing a three-volume history of Gladstone. Herb was a passionate volunteer at schools, historical societies, coffee shops, and churches and freely shared his knowledge. Even when riding the bus, he would often share his research with interested passengers. Survivors include his wife, Barbara Brown Beals; two daughters, a son, six grandchildren, and one great-grandchild. Our thanks to Raymond Rendleman ’06 for writing a memorial for Herb, “Reedie Leaves behind Historical Legacy.”

James William Fristrom ’59 October 29, 2013, in Oakland, California.

Richard Philip Gale ’60

September 27, 2013, in Laguna Woods, California, after suffering a major stroke.

In his 75 years, Dick enjoyed a rich and varied life. He earned a BA in sociology from Reed, an MA from Washington State University, and a PhD from Michigan State University. He spent his career as a professor at the University of Oregon, where he specialized in environmental sociology and published more than 50 articles and chapters. His efforts as a central sociological figure in advocating disciplinary attention to environmental issues led to creation of the American Sociological Association section on environmental sociology. Dick was instrumental in launching and nurturing the University of Oregon’s interdisciplinary environmental studies degree program. He also devoted many hours to guiding students as a dedicated academic adviser and mentor. For many years he commuted to Eugene from his home in Florence, Oregon, where he was active in community affairs. He served on the

poetry sing,” and a favorite instructor was Richard Jones [history 1941–86]—“I still feel lucky to have known him and to have taken a class from him.” Joan and Vern traveled throughout the world, and enjoyed spending time at their cabin in Rockaway Beach on the Oregon coast. They were married for 54 years. Survivors include her children, seven grandchildren, nine great-grandchildren, and two sisters.

George Kemp Schlesinger ’69

August 2013, in Maryland.

Photo by Michael Thompson ’65

A native of Chicago, Jim was born to Carl Fristrom and Katherine Kermeen Fristrom and graduated from Francis Parker School. He earned a BA from Reed in biology, graduating Phi Beta Kappa, and received a fellowship to the Rockefeller Institute, where he earned a PhD in life sciences. He completed a postdoctoral fellowship in biology at the California Institute of Technology and then joined the faculty of molecular and cell biology at UC Berkeley in 1965. For the next three decades, Jim made significant contributions to the field of fruit fly genetics and development. He ran a large laboratory at Berkeley: a total of 23 graduate students received their doctorates under his mentorship. Many postdoctoral fellows and visiting scholars benefited from the energetic and supportive atmosphere of his lab. Jim was an enthusiastic outdoorsman with a great love of fly fishing, hiking, and horseback riding. He loved to garden and build garden structures such as gazebos, bridges, and decks. He will be greatly missed by his wife, Dianne, sons James and Edward, granddaughters Sofia and Zara, and brother Carl. Donations in his name, supporting undergraduate biological research, may be made to the Biology Fellows Program at UCB.

Chamber of Commerce board, ran for port commissioner, greeted newcomers as an ambassador, volunteered as an ombudsman at a local nursing home, helped bring about the community’s fall festival, and wrote the crucial grant that sparked the creation of the Events Center. In retirement, he moved to Southern California, where he also participated in community life. He was a staunch supporter of libraries and an inveterate reader, always “chasing ideas” through books, the internet, and the media (he read both the Los Angeles Times and New York Times daily). He loved music, especially chamber and choral works, including opera. He attended hundreds of art exhibitions over the years. He was the household cook, who made lovely dinners every evening and who boasted a cookbook collection of over 300 titles. Dick was also a dedicated traveler who had seen much of the world. In recent years he became truly enamored of New York City because of the inexhaustible wealth of theatre, art, and music available there. He is survived by his wife, Susan Gale, the author of this memorial piece; his sister, Jean Schaefer; and his nieces Julie Smith and Laurie Batten. Donations in his memory may be made to the Siuslaw Public Library in Florence, Oregon.

Linda Cudlin ’63

June 29, 2013, in Santa Rosa, California.

Linda entered Reed at age 16 on a scholarship and earned a BA in history while working full time as an assistant to Mary McCabe [1955– 78] in the Commons. After Reed, Linda worked for State Farm Insurance in California for 35 years. Reed was the perfect place for her, she said. She chose it over Stanford, where her parents intended that she study. To the end of her life, she applauded Reed’s rigorous academic program and was generous in her financial support of the college. She also was proud to have concealed the Doyle Owl in her laundry basket for six months. Linda was predeceased by her parents; brother; and her life companion, Elizabeth McPherson.

Kathryne Joan Risberg MAT ’64 October 9, 2013, in Lake Oswego, Oregon.

Joan was an undergraduate at the University of Oregon, leaving to marry E. Vernon Risberg and to raise a family, which included a son and two daughters. She resumed her studies at Portland State University, completing a BA in 1963, and then enrolled in the master’s program at Reed in English and social studies. Joan taught both subjects for 25 years at Madison and Cleveland high schools in Portland. “My experiences at Reed greatly broadened my outlook on life,” she wrote in 1994. “I hope that I have been able to pass this open attitude on to students I have had—even to others in my life.” She remembered particularly class with Kenneth Hanson [English 1954–86], who “made

After finishing his thesis at Reed, for which he earned a BA in philosophy, Kemp continued philosophy studies at the University of Oregon. He later lived in Yachats, where he produced a series of uniquely satirical collage books (unpublished) while studying computer programming. Another entertainment was music: Kemp began playing the flute at age 5 and mastered several other instruments, including saxophone, oboe, bassoon, piccolo, and piano. Terrel Brand ’67 says, “I met Kemp first in Sisson, where he collaborated with another roommate in a jazz group. His considerable skill and profound interest in music had a great influence on my own skill (modest) and interest (huge).” Those who loved him recall his quiet sense of humor, the outbursts of spontaneous silliness, the breadth of interests—in addition to playing music, Kemp played chess, Go, and mahjongg—and a gentleness of spirit. Cricket Parmalee ’67 remembered: “What is startling to me is how very specific my physical recollection of Kemp is. More than anyone else I have known, he was so individual in the way he looked, moved, and spoke. He was often very silent, but focused, and would then abruptly take the floor with a comment or commentary. march 2014 Reed magazine 53

In Memoriam

Constance Victoria Earnshaw ’70

His physical presence—kicking a pebble down the street, doing a little dance, like a soccer player, or breaking into a smile . . . forget Wittgenstein and think Buster Keaton!” Steven Halpern ’67 recalled Kemp as quiet and selfeffacing, “yet always having something interesting to say, especially when pressed about one of his interests. His inner life, which I was convinced was rich, was, at the same time a complete unknown. I think of him as being the sweetest of human beings, with a sweetness that, unfortunately, he could not access for his own well being.” A move to Germany, as David Dod ’67 says, seemed to be the happiest and most fulfilling chapter of his life. “Having a job where he had talent and was valued, traveling to work with clients, and joining the municipal-sponsored town band of Heppenheim.” He had returned to the United States in 2005, after 20 years as a programmer at Software AG, one of the leaders in software application development. During his years in Germany, he traveled extensively for the firm, overseeing installations in various European countries and the U.S., aided by his facility for languages. In addition to fluency in English and German, he was comfortable in French, Italian, Dutch, and Hungarian, many of which he studied independently. In later years, he learned Chinese as an entertainment. Declining health led to Kemp’s return to Maryland, where he lived with his sister, Fran, who provided this memorial. Always able to amuse himself, Kemp was a film buff, particularly loving noir films of the ’30s and ’40s. He read extensively, everything from comics, to “trashy” Chinese novels, to history, philosophy, and economics. After a few years, retirement palled and he took part-time work at the local public library as supervisor of page services, solving logistical problems, developing systems, mentoring younger colleagues, and enjoying interactions with the youngest patrons. Kemp had a special kinship with children, sharing jokes and letters with nephews and nieces. His “uncleness” included great generosity of time, interest, and affection. Photographs of Kemp, taken by Mike Thompson ’66 during a day trip to Short Sands Beach, show the playful side of Kemp. “I remember him as a gentleman, quiet, and drawling his words out; happy to be included in outings and a good sport about putting up with photographers, but generally keeping himself in the background.” Kemp was kind to those he felt close to and, as one colleague at the public library noted, he was a dear sweet friend. “It is not often that you find someone who ‘gets’ you and Kemp was much loved and respected.” Kemp’s family held a memorial at the Harford County Public Library to commemorate his love of learning, his curiosity, and his humor that will remain with those whose lives he touched.

Originally from Booth Bay Harbor, Maine, Connie came to Reed, where she earned a BA in biology and took classes in ceramics, drawing, printmaking, and calligraphy. Her work with Lloyd Reynolds [English & art 1929–69] nurtured an interest in Asian culture, which she went on to explore in graduate studies, she said. “I was given very high standards intellectually, which have served me well, as has my intense education in science, liberal arts, and visual arts. I gained a great deal by exposure to the creativity and intelligence of other students.” She completed an MFA in ceramics from Portland State University (1984), an MA in Chinese art history from the University of Oregon (1990), and was a PhD candidate in Chinese art history at the University of Washington. She worked as a professional potter, operating her own studio in Portland, creating ceramic sculpture and what she described as “functional” work. She also was a freelance artist doing graphics and design work that included illustration, posters, costume design, and calligraphy. From her dear friend, Connie Crooker ’69, who supplied the details for this memorial, we learned that Connie’s vibrant creativity earned her renown as a top Oregon potter and ceramic sculptor. From the heads of her clay sculptures of kneeling goddesses sprout abundant treeof-life vines in a frenzy of fragile foliage. She splashed her pottery with images of Portland’s Victorian homes, of perky animals, and of guitarists. Her work was shown in many galleries and in solo exhibitions at universities and cultural centers. “I met Connie as a colorfully clad young Reedie, dressed in multiple layers of vintage clothing, who had just discovered that the potter’s wheel gave her a delightful distraction from her tedious biology studies. Her wild mane of tousled curls, and her forthright confidence in her opinions on all subjects, were a force of nature.” After graduating from Reed, the two friends kept in touch with one another, finding and selling thrift store bargains, and playing music together, but ceramics remained her central focus. “Three-dimensional blackberries began to wind around her pieces,” says Connie C. “They grew out of the backs of her black dog Ruby, and out of the heads of her divine earth goddesses. She said the profusion of growth was inspired by Mexican tree-oflife ceramic pieces. To her, blackberries symbolized nature’s dominance over humankind’s futile attempts to control nature. She hated mown lawns. She loved riotous disarray, and

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November 11, 2013, from cancer, at home in Portland.

she always rooted for the blackberries. She believed, like the poet Walt Whitman, that ‘the running blackberries would adorn the parlors of heaven.’” Connie taught Asian art history at Portland State University and served as visiting professor or as adjunct faculty at Lewis & Clark College, the University of Portland, Clark College, Portland Community College, and the University of Washington. She knew sufficient Japanese, Korean, and Mandarin Chinese to converse and to aid her research. As an enthusiastic ceramics teacher, she inspired students at the Multnomah Arts Center, where she was assistant studio manager and instructor. She coordinated a tile mural project with youth at Outside In,and was a founding member of the cooperative Hawthorne Art Guild. Her creativity extended to music and dress. She played jazz guitar, sang, and composed music, which she sometimes performed at coffee houses. She wore layers of colorful clothing, channeling the free spirits of Isadora Duncan and Frida Kahlo. She and her husband, Shiaw Yen Lui, who were married in 1998, enjoyed camping, hiking, and exploring restaurants. Her notebooks of nature drawings serve as journals of their adventures. “If I had to describe Connie in one word,” says Connie C, “it would be ‘untamable.’ Her art, her unkempt hair, her unplucked eyebrows jutted in all directions with exuberance. In many ways, Connie lived the life that many people envy. Many of us put aside our creativity to earn our livings, and we plan to get back to our art after retirement, but the moment she first got her hands in clay back when she was in college, she knew her life’s course, and she never lost that vision. She breathed life and humor and endless imagination into her art, and the art she left for us is her abundant laughter made visible.” Survivors include her husband and her brother and sister.

Mark H. Jacobsen ’72

October 21, 2013, in Arlington, Virginia, from cardiac complications related to type 1 diabetes.

Mark earned a BA from Reed and a PhD at UC Irvine in history. He also studied at the University of London for a year on a Fulbright Scholarship. He taught military history for 21 years at the U.S. Marine Corps Command and Staff College in Quantico, Virginia, and was coauthor of the first scholarly account of the Royal Navy in the Pacific War, Old Friends New Enemies: The Royal Navy & the Imperial Japanese Navy, Volume 2. “Always curious to learn about other cultures, he particularly enjoyed working with students from allied nations around the world.” Mark is remembered as an exceptionally generous man and a natural teacher with a passion for books. He lived with type I diabetes for nearly 50 years. Survivors include three brothers, a sister-in-law, and three nephews, who were a great joy in Mark’s life.

David Lawrence Browne ’74

August 5, 2013, in Tigard, Oregon, from a heart attack.

A National Merit Scholar, Dave came to Reed from Moscow, Idaho, and took classes at the college for a little more than a year. He earned a BS from the University of Idaho, an MS from Montana State University, and a PhD in gene-tics from Michigan State University, and taught biology and genetics in Portland. In his public obituary we learned that he enjoyed hunting and fishing, and was especially “at home” tying flies and fishing for cutthroat trout in the many Pacific Northwest streams. “He loved to discuss politics, philosophy, and science, and was well read in a myriad of subjects. He had a sharp mind and a quick wit, and was known for his prodigious intelligence.” In addition, Dave was an excellent guitar player and performed blues music in Moscow, Idaho, in the ’70s. “We all appreciated his sense of humor, giving heart and gentle spirit.” Survivors include his wife, Linda, a son and daughter, his father and stepmother, and five brothers.

Deborah Jean Parr Emery ’75

April 20, 2013, in San Luis Obispo, California, from staph pneumonia.

Deborah’s parents worked for the U.S. State Department and she spent most of her early years in Turkey. After graduating from Reed with a BA in art, she flew to Kabul, Afghanistan, where her parents had been stationed, and worked as a lifeguard. Following a severe back injury, she was flown to Silver Springs, Maryland, where her parents were living at the time, and underwent surgery. Deborah then enrolled at University of Maryland and earned a second BA in business. Her four-year college roommate Ellen Mankoff ’75, who provided details for this memorial, was in graduate school at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore at the time and saw Deborah often. Deborah had a distinguished career in business, beginning with her work with the Opera Company of Boston, where she advanced to the position of comptroller in 1977. After that time, she moved to Seattle with her partner, a set designer with the Seattle Opera Company. In the early ’90s, she was business director for Kitsap Mental Health Services in Bremerton and a finance and operations manager for Bailey-Boushay House in Seattle. In 2005, she earned an MSN from Seattle University College of Nursing, passed the national boards, and became an advanced-practice psychiatric mental health nurse with a focus on addiction. She also was employed with the California Men’s Colony in Atascadero, California, and specialized in working with prisoners recovering from drug and alcohol addiction. Reporting Deborah’s death, her sisters said that Deborah had not been in good health for many years, due to complications of knee replacements, and had suffered repeated bouts of pneumonia.

David J. Coddington ’01

October 17, 2013, in Chicago, Illinois, from a fatal epileptic seizure, a complication of a cerebral hemorrhage that occurred six years earlier.

Dave earned a BA from Reed in art and then worked in the art shipping business in New York City. He attended the school of the Art Institute of Chicago, working toward a master’s degree in interior architecture. He was passionate about travel and visited the Czech Republic, Hungary, Italy, and Scandinavia. He enjoyed the exploration of everything from an antique shop in the middle of nowhere to a hip restaurant in a large metropolis. He was a gifted artist, an excellent skier, and a devoted fan of Chicago sports teams, especially the Blackhawks. In notifying the college of Dave’s death, Sam Hudnall ’03 remarked, “He was a solid guy and a great Reedie.” Survivors include Dave’s parents, sister, brother, and maternal grandparents. “Though a man of few words, he had an amazing group of loyal supportive friends throughout his life. He will be missed by all of them, but most of all by his constant companion of 13 years, his dog Django.”

Staff, Faculty, and Friends

Priscilla Webber Hanawalt [staff 1959–83] October 31, 2013, in Portland, at 95, following a long period of age-related dementia.

Pat was bortn in Massachusetts and moved to Seattle, where she earned a BA in psychology from the University of Washington and met Clare Hanawalt, whom she married in 1941. During World War II, she worked for the War Administration. Clare’s job at KGW led the family to Portland, and Pat came to Reed in 1959, doing part-time clerical support for the dean of students—advancing to the role of secretarial assistant to the dean in 1963. She was named acting dean in 1970 and became dean of students in 1971; she retired in 1983. President Paul Bragdon [1971–88] remarked at Pat’s retirement, “No one cared more about students than Pat. She will be missed.” Survivors include the couple’s son and daughter, four grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.

Samuel McCracken [English 1967–71]

October 4, 2013, in Newton, Massachusetts.

Sam McCracken was educated at Drake University, the University of Connecticut, the University of Wisconsin at Madison, and the University of London. In addition to teaching literature and humanities at Reed, he taught English at Boston University, where he served as assistant to John Silber, president and thenchancellor, from 1974 until 2005, when Sam retired. He wrote The War Against the Atom and articles for a number of periodicals, including Commentary, National Review, the New Republic, and the New York Times. “McCracken was a man of wide-ranging erudition, wit, kindly and otherwise, and prodigious memory.” Survivors include his wife, Natalie Jacobson McCracken; a son and daughter; two grandchildren; and a sister.

Lesley (Judy) Corbett Forster [trustee 1957-73]

November 5, 2013, in Portland, from age-related issues.

A lifelong resident of Portland, Judy was the third of five daughters born to Elliott R. and Alta Smith Corbett, a former Reed Regent (1919-41). She attended Riverdale School, Miss Catlin’s School (Catlin Gabel School), the Branson School, and Smith, graduating in 1936 with a degree in history and a minor in physics. An eventful plane trip from Portland to Smith in her junior year—which included landing in an Iowa cornfield—sparked her interest in joining the Smith College Flying Club. Returning from college in 1939, she met physician Donald Forster, whom she married. They raised a family of three sons and one daughter. She was an active participant in the Portland community, serving on the boards of the Parry Center, OMSI, and Reed. In sharing the news of her death, President John R. Kroger said, “Although I did not have the pleasure of knowing Judy, I know her connections to Reed run deep, and that the college has lost a beloved friend.” Judy volunteered with the PTA of Riverdale School and lent her support for the Portland Art Museum, the Oregon Historical Society, Smith College, Catlin Gabel School, and the League of Women Voters. Survivors include two sons and a daughter, eight grandchildren, two great-grandchildren. Her husband and son predeceased her. Her cousin, Laurie Cummins ’39, also served on the Reed board of trustees. Remembrances may be made in Judy’s name to Catlin Gabel School or Reed College.

PENDING

Chester Schink ’41, Ellis Bischoff ’42, Julian Fotre AMP ’44, Burton Gevurtz ’50, Florence Riddle ’51, Joyce Benson Matson ’52, Merlyn Anderberg ’55, Barbara Donnell Stockley ’55, Herbert Walum ’58, Antonette Elmer Duncan ’60, Gail Abrahams Petersen ’66, Frank Wolf MAT ’66, Warren Miller ’67, Larry Karush ’68, Bonnie Stockman ’69, Margo Clark Potheau ’70, Jennifer Craven ’74, Marian Brennan ‘76, Cindy Thatcher ’88, and Jen Nonas ’00.

march 2014 Reed magazine 55

illustration by hawk krall

apocrypha t r a d i t i o n • m y t h • l e g e n d

The Jean-Paul Sartre Cookbook Few today recall Jean-Paul Sartre’s 1952 visit to Reed, where he provocatively encouraged a rapt audience of young philosophers to “reify the dialectic” by dressing up like oppressed workers and beating each other with wooden poles. A vigorous demonstration followed (one which brought new meaning to the term “lumpenproletariat”). In the fracas, some of Sartre’s personal papers were lost, including the following diary entries, which lay hidden under a bar of soap in the student union for 35 years. They were eventually found by Marty Smith ’88, who mistook the soap for either an exotic Balinese aphrodisiac or some chicken, depending on who’s around when he’s telling the story. These previously unknown writings find the young Sartre working as a short-order cook and obsessed, not with the void, but with food. He apparently aspired to write a cookbook that would “put to rest notions of flavor forever.” The diaries are excerpted here without further comment. October 3: Spoke with Camus today about my cookbook. Though he has never actually eaten, he gave me much encouragement. I rushed home immediately to begin work. How excited I am! I have begun my formula for a Denver omelet. October 4: Still working on the omelet. There have been stumbling blocks. I keep creating omelets one after another, like soldiers marching into the sea, but each one seems empty, hollow, like stone. Malraux suggested paprika. October 6: I have realized that the traditional omelet form is bourgeois. Today I tried making one out of a cigarette, some coffee, and four tiny stones. I fed it to Malraux, who puked. I am encouraged, but my journey is still long. October 7: In an attempt to reach the bourgeoisie, I taped two fried eggs over my eyes and walked the streets of Paris for an hour. I ran into Camus at the

56 Reed magazine March 2014

Select. He sneered and told me to “go home and wash my face,” so I poured a bowl of bouillabaisse into his lap. Enraged, he seized a straw wrapped in paper, tore off one end of the wrapper, and blew through the straw, propelling the wrapper into my eye. “Ow! You douche!” I cried. (This insult probably would have stung more if we were not both French. Now he thinks I called him a “shower.”) October 10: I find myself trying ever more radical interpretations of traditional dishes, in an effort to somehow express the void I feel so acutely. Today I tried this recipe: tuna casserole Ingredients: 1 large casserole dish Place the casserole dish in a cold oven. Place a chair facing the oven and sit in it forever. Think about how hungry you are. When night falls, do not turn on the light. While a void is expressed here, I am struck by its inapplicability to the bourgeois lifestyle.

How can the eater recognize that the food denied him is a tuna casserole and not some other dish? I am becoming more and more frustrated.

Still, I feel that this may be my most profound achievement yet, and have resolved to enter it in the Betty Crocker Bake-Off.

October 12: My eye has become inflamed. I hate Camus.

November 30: Today was the day of the Bake-Off. Alas, during the judging the beaver became agitated and bit Betty Crocker on the wrist. The beaver’s powerful jaws are capable of felling a blue spruce in less than 10 minutes and proved more than a match for the tender limbs of America’s favorite homemaker, so I only got third place. Moreover, I am now the subject of a rather nasty lawsuit.

November 23: Some of the patrons at the restaurant have complained that my breakfast special (a page out of Remembrance of Things Past and a blowtorch with which to set it on fire) did not satisfy their hunger. As if their hunger was of any consequence! They are going to die anyway. I have quit the job. It is stupid for Jean-Paul Sartre to sling hash. I have enough money to continue my work for a little while. November 26: Today I made a Black Forest cake out of five pounds of cherries and a live beaver, challenging the very definition of the word “cake.” I was very pleased. Simone said she admired it greatly, but could not stay for dessert.

February 16: I have gained 46 pounds in the last two months, and am now experiencing light tides. My pain and ultimate solitude are still as authentic as they were when I was thin, but seem to impress girls far less. From now on, I will live on cigarettes and black coffee. Adapted from Marty’s original article, which first appeared in The Free Agent in 1987, and which went viral in the early days of the internet.

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GARBED IN WHITE. Furious snowstorm drapes campus in a glorious blanket of frosty precipitation.