Reed College Magazine December 2014

‰ December 2014

Brain Wave

Psych majors dive into the mind-bending world of sensory substitution.

BY CHRIS LYDGATE ’90

inside the steam tunnels | CRISIS IN ARNHEM LAND | FAREWELL, MAGGIE

ARLENE BLUM ’66, SCIENTIST & MOUNTAINEER THESIS TITLE FUMAROLE EMANATIONS FROM MOUNT HOOD, OREGON (ANTICIPATED A CASCADES ERUPTION 20 YEARS BEFORE MOUNT ST. HELENS BLEW ITS TOP)

“By giving to Reed, we can change the world.”

—ARLENE BLUM ’66 A n t i -Tox i c s A d v o c a t e

Will you make a gift to support the intellectual honesty, critical thinking, and compassion for the world that have defined Reed students, professors, and alumni for decades?

Use the enclosed envelope, visit giving.reed.edu, or call 877/865-1469 to make your gift.

REED December 2014

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11

Departments

FEATURES 14

22

Elegant Pro(o)f

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Crisis in Arnhem Land

New scholarship honors Prof.

Nicholas Wheeler ’55.

Joshua Bell ’99 films Aboriginal Australians fighting for their culture.

By Randall S. Barton

By laurie lindquist 22

6 Eliot Circular Journey begins for Class of ’18 Pantheon puts pants on New trustees bring biz expertise Give a Hoot!

Inside the steam tunnels Welcome, new profs!

Shades of White Prexy gets facelift

The Man Behind the Mike NPR host Arun Rath ’92 finds his voice on the air.

By maureen o’hagan 24

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Out of the Shadows

Barbara Peschiera ’82 helps kids recover from sexual abuse.

By Raymond Rendleman ’06

Facing the End

Holly Pruett ’85 gets us to talk about our deepest fear.

By Romel Hernandez 18

Letter from the alumni association president Leadership summit Reaching across the aisle Westwind spawns Midwestwind

By romel Hernandez

Life Beyond Reed

Career profiles of a pioneering doctor and a high-tech entrepreneur.

12 Empire of the Griffin

Prof. Kim Clausing shows how multinationals dodge Uncle Sam.

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Follow the Money

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36 Reediana

Books, films, and music by Reedies

By Randall S. Barton

40 Class Notes

Brain Wave

50 In Memoriam

Dive into the mind-bending world of sensory substitution.

John Sperling ’48 Prof. Maggie Geselbracht

By Chris Lydgate ’90 Cover photo by Clayton Cotterell

December 2014 Reed magazine

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Letter from the editor tom humphrey

‰ December 2014

www.reed.edu/reed_magazine 3203 SE Woodstock Boulevard, Portland, Oregon 97202 503/777-7591 Volume 93, No. 4 MAGAZINE editor Chris Lydgate ’90 503/777-7596 chris.lydgate@reed.edu class notes editor Laurie Lindquist 503/777-7591 reed.magazine@reed.edu Art director Tom Humphrey 503/459-4632 tom.humphrey@reed.edu REED COLLEGE RELATIONS vice president, college relations Hugh Porter director, communications & public affairs Mandy Heaton

Cracking Eggs Making my way to the library the other day, I came upon an intriguing spectacle: a dozen students from physics 101 firing eggs across the Great Lawn with a makeshift slingshot.

The students were applying the principle of conservation of energy to a devilish problem: determining the minimum angle of trajectory required to be sure that an egg will actually splatter when it hits the ground.

At first glance, the experimental apparatus—some sturdy forearms and a length of surgical tubing—seemed rather primitive.

But in physics, as elsewhere, appearances are deceiving. It turns out that this set-up cuts the number of tricky measurements to a minimum: the angle at which the egg is flung, the distance between launch and landing, the mass of the projectile, and the thickness of the grass.

The first two attempts yielded no rupture, much to the students’ dismay (recent rains, they theorized, must have softened the ground). On the third try, however—at an angle of 52 degrees and a horizontal displacement of 59 meters—the egg was finally vanquished, to huzzahs from the assembled onlookers.

Trooping back to the lab, the students then embarked on the next stage of the experiment—piling iron weights atop an egg nestled in foam padding to determine the amount 2

Reed magazine December 2014

of force necessary to break it (a cruel science, physics). Armed with these numbers, plus a little help from Newton’s second law, they figured out how high to aim your slingshot when lofting ovoid ammunition at a grassy target.

Fun? Definitely. Frivolous? Not at all. The experiment demonstrates the conservation of energy, spurs debate on the best way to understand collision, and opens questions about structural integrity. Talk to a physics major about this subject for any length of time, and you’re liable to wind up discussing bicycle helmets, cannonfire, and whether the Coriolis Effect played a role in the Battle of the Falkland Islands, when British shells kept landing astern of their German targets (turns out this is a great way to start an argument between physicists and historians).

I’ve always admired Reed’s approach to physics, epitomized by Prof. Nicholas Wheeler ’55 (see page 14). “My ambition was to get to the bottom of things,” he says.

“At the time I still supposed that was possible, but the bottom was far deeper than I imagined.”

—CHRIS LYDGATE ’90

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 only run 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.

Carnival of Errors

From the Editor: Readers across the globe alerted us to a carnival of errors in the last magazine.

In “Quadrivial Pursuit,” the answer to Question 2—the demand of students occupying Eliot Hall in 1968—should have been (B), that students wanted a black studies program. For Question 12, we listed (D), that Prof. Stanley Moore refused to appear before HUAC; in fact, he did appear but refused to answer questions. In Question 20, we claimed (C), that the Columbus Day Storm of 1962 was divine retribution for Reed staging a mock crucifixion at a football game; however, it appears more likely that if divine retribution was involved, it was caused by Reed thumping the team from Columbia Christian 19-7 (historical evidence suggests that the mock crucifixion was staged in 1959). In “Prime Exponent,” we mangled an equation, thereby inadvertently overstating Prof. Joe Roberts’ stay at Reed by 192 years. Finally, we ran the wrong photo of Vern Rustala ’56. We extend our apologies for the errors and our gratitude to everyone who wrote to us about them.

UnMoored from Our Bearings

The editor’s admonition (“Letters,” December 2012) that “the roads of human history (do not) invariably converge on the Stanley Moore affair” might be more effective if he avoids publishing more disinformation about the late professor of philosophy. When he does so, I’m obliged to call on us to set off again down that perilous road. In the “Quadrivial Pursuit” challenge heralded on Reed’s cover (September 2014) you ask, “What did professor Stanley Moore do in 1954?” Unfortunately, the answer you designated correct, “Refused to appear before the then-popular House Un-American Activities Committee,” is as wrong as the other humorous choices. Prof. Moore [1948–54] did appear on June 2, 1954, in Washington, D.C., before HUAC, whose committee members demanded to know whether he was a Communist in California in 1947 or in 1954 and whether he

Distinguished professors R.K. Strong, Monte Griffith, L.E. Griffin, and F.L. Griffin were captured apparently shooting dice in the Arts and Sciences Building (now Eliot Hall) in this photo taken in spring 1932 by F.F. Coleman ’29. Does anyone care to suggest what’s going on here? Many thanks to David C. Coleman ’60 for sending us the photo.

ever taught at the California Labor School. He refused to submit to their political interrogation on constitutional grounds. When Moore was asked if he intended to return to Reed that fall, he cautiously replied, “The option is mine. I have, for whatever it is worth these days, ‘tenure.’”

Moore later maintained his refusal to engage in similar questioning when demanded by the Reed trustees, and a baker’s dozen of them fired him after rejecting the nearly unanimous advice of the faculty, students, and alumni of the time.

Now that those facts are once again settled, we must await a similar backdoor opportunity to remind the Reed community of its owners’ capitulation to McCarthyism and their violation of academic freedom.

—Michael Munk ’56 Portland, Oregon

Prime Exponent

As a budding physics major, I took Math 11 in 1955 as one of my first required courses. It was common knowledge that the Reed math courses were not going to help us solve physics problems, so practical math also was taught. I never did well at math department offerings. I believe my supreme agony occurred under Prof.

Joe Roberts’ patient nurturing the following year). Nevertheless, I did learn some useful rules along the way. Let me stylize 2 squared as 2^2 and 2 cubed as 2^3 = 2 x 2 x 2. The article “Prime

Exponent” noted that Prof. Roberts retired after teaching 2^(2^3) - 2 years. However, 2^3 is 2 x 2 x 2 = 8, and 2^8 now becomes 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 x 2 = 256, so 2^8 - 2 = 254 years.

I’d like to think that the purity of mathematics could lead to such longevity, but suspect that what you meant was (2^2)^3, or (2 squared) to the 3rd power = (4 x 4 x 4), or 64 – 2 = 62. With exponents you work backwards, or downwards, from the last one. Simple as this all seems, it is perhaps one of the few times I did anything correct with reference to math and Reed.

—Roger Moment ’59 Longmont, Colorado

Prime Exponent (part 21)

Our postman brought the September 2014 Reed magazine to our house on his motorcycle this morning. Skimming through, I noticed something rather odd in the article about Prof.

Joe Roberts: he taught at Reed for 254 years!

Yes, that is the figure indicated in the subtitle, because 2 cubed = 8 and thus 2 to the 8th minus 2 = 256 - 2 = 254. Then again, perhaps we should be embarrassed, rather than amazed, that the writer, headline editor, and you all seemed to think 2 to the 2 to the 3 = 2 to the 6th or 64.

This is what happens when our society at large disses basic calculation as mere “bean counting.”

—Martin Schell MAT ’77 Klaten, Central Java December 2014 Reed magazine

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Letters to Reed Divest from Fossil Fuels

In the September issue of Reed magazine, Roger Perlmutter ’73, chairman of the board of trustees, announced that Reed would not divest its $500 million endowment from fossil fuels as requested by the student group Fossil Free Reed. It appears that the main reasons for this decision are 1) that morality should not intrude on financial decisions, and 2) that divestment could have a negative impact on the earnings of the endowment. I disagree that moral considerations should be excluded from financial decisions, but my argument here is that the trustees appear to have overlooked two major risks involved in refusing to divest from fossil fuels.

First, the value of fossil fuel stocks is based in large part on their holdings of known fossil fuel reserves. Current expenditures by oil companies are heavily weighted to acquiring even more reserves. Yet the best scientific consensus is that 70% to 80% of currently proven reserves must remain untapped if the planet is to avoid catastrophic runaway warming. The risk is that, at some point, the obvious impacts of global warming will trigger action to limit fossil fuel use. Deduct the value of the unusable reserves (stranded assets) and the stocks will be seen to be grossly overvalued. The cynical response would be that we should wait and enjoy the profits now before dumping the stocks, but since many stockowners will have that same strategy, a run might happen faster than the stocks could be profitably dumped.

Second, this risk is unique to Reed and other institutions of higher education. Alumni of the generation that occupied Eliot Hall to demand a divestment from South Africa are reaching an age when they are making legacy decisions.

A decision to leave a portion of their estate to Reed would be equivalent to leaving a legacy of support to the fossil fuels industry. Given the recent decision not to divest, it is a certainty that some will decide to make other choices for their legacy donations, choosing instead to stand with Fossil Free Reed and the future generations that must live with the results of our decisions. The amount of this risk is impossible to determine, but it could be very large.

The board of trustees should reevaluate their decision not to divest in view of these risks. I believe the wise decision would be to proceed with an orderly divestment.

—Roger Gadway ’67 White Salmon, Washington The trustees’ position on divestment (“Reed Won’t Divest,” September 2014) is not quite bullshit in the way Harry Frankfurt defined that term, but it’s awfully close. Note the claim that the board cannot divest from fossil fuels because, to quote Reed’s account, its “primary 4

Reed magazine December 2014

The Eliot kids in spring 1919, at the W.G. Eliot vacation cottage in Hood River, Oregon (left to right): William G. Eliot III ’19, Calista Eliot ’20, Craig Eliot ’24, Ruth Eliot ’21, Mignon Eliot ’22, and Ted Eliot ’21.

investment objective is to safeguard the value of the endowment so that it can support the mission of the college.” This is neoliberal claptrap designed to make us feel good about doing something unconscionable in pursuit of a higher ROI. (The same plea served to justify continued investment in apartheid-era South Africa in the 1980s.) It also is simply false: when implemented in so narrow and self-serving a way, the trustees’ objective still arguably violates the mission of the college, since Reed’s investments currently contribute to environmental depredation and, in so doing, militate against the welfare not only of potential donors (i.e., future graduating classes) but also of the planet as a whole.

I see little evidence of Reed’s much-vaunted difference at a time when it actually matters.

Rather, I see a kind of vague hope for complacency—a hope that is perhaps is most evident in statements by President Kroger concerning the commencement speech by Igor Vamos ’90 (“Grads Unleashed, Yes-Man Pulls Prank”). The speech did technically constitute a prank, but President Kroger’s remarks minimize the importance of Vamos’ actions and the cause in which he took them. To speak, as President Kroger did, of “a great guerrilla artist” is to construct a convenient pigeonhole, one that provides a convenient narrative by means of which readers may consider the matter closed: Igor misbehaves, rich people deny his claims, and then we all get back to business.

People should, as President Kroger notes, engage in “robust and far-ranging debate.” But the time for such debate regarding fossil-fuel investment has largely passed, particularly given how robust the science is concerning climate change. There’s nothing like genuine action, and in this case calling for debate is nothing like genuine action. Rather, it’s the sort of thing that has killed all kinds of environmentally and ethically sound ideas.

Better, I think, to keep people from getting back to business. It’s time to withhold dona-

tions to the Annual Fund, and to be clear why we do so. Reed’s endowment is large enough for the institution to behave in an ethically sound manner and still remain in rude health. As Vamos said in his speech, “Do what you must.”

—Bret Rothstein ’89 Bloomington, Indiana From the editor: I sense little disagreement among Reedies about whether burning coal, oil, and gas is making the planet hotter. There is, however, genuine disagreement about whether divestment is an effective way to fight global warming. It seems to me that our esteemed correspondents do not squarely face one of the trustees’ central concerns—whether divestment might erode academic freedom at Reed.

The bitter lesson of the Stanley Moore affair (see letter on the previous page) is that academic freedom is threatened when Reed takes an institutional stance on a political issue. Is fossil-fuel divestment such an issue? Will divesting from fossil fuels lead to pressure for divestment based on other issues?

Does the decision not to divest constitute a political stance? Does any of this pose a genuine threat to academic freedom? Arguments on these points will be more persuasive to the trustees, I suspect, than calls to boycott the Annual Fund.

Neahkahnie Mystery

In the latest issue of the Reed magazine, I read the letter to the editor “Etched into the Rocks.”

The author, a parent of a current Reed student, alludes to carved initials on Neahkahnie Mountain: “T.S. + M.E. Eliot, 1925.” He was wondering who they might have been. This piqued my curiosity, so I looked through the T.L. Eliot family file this morning and found a possible answer. My best guess is Theodore Sessinghaus Eliot ’21 married to Mignon Hoover Eliot ’22—Ted was T.L. Eliot’s grandson and William G. Eliot Jr.’s son.

—Mark Kuestner Special Collections, Reed Library

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Eliot Circular news from campus

the class of ’18

kevin myers

Eliot Circular Journey Begins for the Class of ’18 leah nash

Pantheon Puts Pants on

The moving vans are gone, the posters are hung, and the pages of Gilgamesh are dog-eared. The 374 members of the class of ’18 are high achievers, with an average high school grade point average of 3.9 and a median SAT score of 710 verbal, 680 math, and 690 written.

Sixty-two ranked in the top 10 of their high school class, including 5 valedictorians, and 27 are the first in their families to attend a four-year college.

“This is my favorite time of the year,” said Milyon Trulove, Reed’s vice president and dean of admission and financial aid, welcoming the class at convocation. “We scoured the globe and had conversations with thousands of students about an amazing academic experience and intellectual journey—we tell the story of Reed. Reed is a special place where advancing the capacity of your mind is at the heart of what we do.”

An excellent illustration is Tenzin Sangpo ’18, a Tibetan student who grew up in Nepal until he was forced to flee with his family to live among members of the Tibetan government in exile in India at Dharamshala.

While at Dharamshala, Tenzin became interested in Reed. It took a year for Reed’s brochure to reach him

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Reed magazine December 2014

in this remote part of India, but, in the meantime, the college was mentioned in Bill Clinton’s autobiography and in the biography Steve Jobs. “Reed was everywhere. I began to think this is more than just my interest,” Tenzin jokes. “I knew it was for me. Reed was about learning. Other schools highlighted sports and other activities, but

“ Even if today is your last day on earth, it is best spent learning.”

—Tibetan saying Reed valued learning above all else.”

Tenzin says he wanted to be around other students who cared so deeply about ideas. This year, he was granted political asylum and came to Portland.

He studied at Mt. Hood Community College before applying to Reed. “Every day, I feel so fortunate to be at Reed, and I don’t think that feeling will go away. I will always feel privileged to be a part of this community.”

He shares a Tibetan saying, which has resonated deeply with him since childhood: “Even if today is your last day on earth, it is best spent learning.”

—KEVIN MYERS

Droves of freshlings on their way to their first Hum 110 lecture encountered a spectacle wondrous to behold—a fully clad pantheon of Olympian gods and goddesses greeting them on the steps of Vollum. “Welcome!” cried the immortals. “You’re a Reedie now!”

The Pantheon is a light-hearted student tradition celebrating Reed’s signature multidisciplinary course, which starts with the Epic of Gilgamesh and wends its way through the Code of Hammurabi, Genesis, the Oresteia, the Iliad, Sappho, Herodotus, Thucydides, and Euripides (and that’s just the first semester!).

The tradition drew fire last year, however, after some of the performers removed their garments and aggressively demanded libations, triggering a Title IX complaint.

After much discussion and soul-searching, student leaders agreed to make sure future Pantheons operated with a spirit of welcoming camaraderie.

The vibe at this year’s performance was cheerful, friendly—and clothed. The seven Olympians, clad in togas from chest to knee, hailed the mortals, beseeching them to pour libations in a reenactment of a Homeric custom and applauding when the students spilled a few drops of water, coffee, or even orange juice on the concrete.

“The freshmen seem eager to participate,” said anthro major Mikaela Lieb ’17, who wore a white toga over a black leotard. “It’s nice to see the Pantheon so cheery and welcoming.”

Once the last stragglers had scurried up the steps, the Pantheon rolled up their heavenly garments, stuffed them in their backpacks, straightened up their street clothes, and set off for their own classes.

—CHRIS LYDGATE ’90

New Trustees Bring Business Expertise Reed welcomes two members to the board of trustees who bring expertise in the fields of financial investment, global strategy, operations research, and tech strategy.

Kurt DelBene returns to the board after serving as the senior adviser to the secretary of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. DelBene had started as a trustee at Reed in April 2013, but when President Obama tapped him to rescue the troubled Affordable Care Act website, Healthcare.gov, he resigned from all nonprofit board work because of the potential conflict of interest.

Prior to his appointment, DelBene was president of the Microsoft Office division responsible for global strategy for a wide range of products including Office, Exchange, Sharepoint, Lync, and Visio. He had joined Microsoft in 1992, working on the development of several high-profile applications including Outlook, Exchange, Schedule+, messaging, and personal information-management applications, and was responsible for the development of Microsoft client and server software.

“In my field a lot of the creative process is about finding connections across different parts of the industry that were not there,” DelBene said.

“Reed introduces students to a broad set of course work in subjects as part of their liberal arts education. That spurs creativity. They learn how to think creatively about what’s not yet there.”

Before joining Microsoft, DelBene was a business strategy consultant and software developer for AT&T Bell Laboratories. He has a BS in industrial engineering from the University of Arizona, an MS in industrial engineering from Stanford University, and an MBA from the University of Chicago.

His wife is Congresswoman Suzan DelBene ’83, who represents Washington’s 1st Congressional District.

Stephen E. Babson is a managing director in the Seattle office of Endeavour Capital, a financial investment firm with $1.5 billion under management. He has worked in the food and consumer, marine transportation, and business services industries and served on the boards of many of the firm’s portfolio companies, including ZoomCare, New Seasons Market, Bristol Farms, Vigor Industrial, Genesis Financial Solutions, and Metropolitan Market. Before joining Endeavour Capital, he was the chairman of Stoel Rives, one of the Pacific Northwest’s largest law firms, where his practice focused on mergers and acquisitions and securities transactions.

“I believe a liberal arts education is critical in providing fundamental abilities like leadership, discernment, and an ability to handle ambiguity and complex analytical tasks,” Babson said, “but every college can’t provide it. Reed is one of the few colleges in the United States that has never strayed from its mission of providing an education in the Western canon, which is so necessary for preparing people for the challenges, threats, and diversions that present themselves in our century.”

Babson holds an AB from Stanford University, a JD from Stanford Law School, and an MBA from the Stanford Graduate School of Business. He also serves on the boards of Columbia Sportswear Company, Pendleton Woolen Mills, and ESCO Corporation.

His parents were Reed alumni Jean McCall Babson ’42 and Richard (Bill) Babson ’43. Jean served on the board of trustees from 1971 to 1987; the Babson Society was named in her honor.

Give a Hoot What’s the difference between a Loyal Owl and the barnyard variety? The Loyal Owl gives a hoot—year after year.

The new Loyal Owl Society honors those who contribute to the college consecutively for three years or more, helping Reed meet pressing needs like financial aid, student research, and classroom technology. Giving to the Annual Fund is the best way to support current students.

Jeanne Halsey Steed ’47 is an awardwinning synchronized swimmer and a Loyal Owl. Appreciating the power of endurance, she has given to the Annual Fund every year since 1975.

She explains her commitment to the college simply: “Reed gave me a very good preparation for life.”

In fact, she met her late husband, George Raymond Steed ’41, on a Reed outing.

She majored in biology, writing her thesis on mitotic rate fluctuations in tadpole tails, went on to earn a master’s degree in education from the University of Oregon, and then taught high school mathematics. She credits Reed with teaching her how to cognize subject matter and make it relevant.

“Reed changed the way I thought about the world,” she says. “I realized mental structures were necessary to go along with the thinking.”

Living in Portland, Jeanne gets back on campus frequently and comments that there are many more people and dogs than there used to be. Asked to define Reedies, she responds, “They’re curious, always wanting to learn more.”

To learn more about supporting the Annual Fund, go to giving.reed.edu. As Jeanne might say, “C’mon, everybody in the pool!”

December 2014 Reed magazine

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Welcome, New Profs!

Eliot Circular

Row 1 Derek Applewhite, assistant professor of biology [BS, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor; PhD, Northwestern University] Daniel Borrero, visiting assistant professor of physics (two-year appointment) [BS, University of Texas, Austin; MS, Georgia Institute of Technology] gary granger

Inside Steam Tunnels, Students Make Their Mark More than 100 incoming students descended into Reed’s labyrinth of underground steam tunnels during orientation on a series of expeditions led by Gary Granger, director of community safety.

The tunnels are among the oldest structures on campus and were originally constructed to house the pipes that convey steam from the Physical Plant to heat Reed’s first buildings.

They are sometimes muddy, sometimes dusty, often difficult to navigate, and always mysterious.

O ver the years , intrepid Reedies have found ways to lull the sentries, bypass the locks, and explore the subterranean passageways, leaving behind surreal artwork, mordant graffiti (“Simeon Reed’s Country Club”), and the occasional garden gnome.

Granger invited new students to join the hallowed tradition and make their mark on campus—literally—by writing their names in the tunnels as they spelunked their way from Eliot Hall to the Old Dorm Block, the Quad, and various other campus landmarks before emerging into the brilliant sunlight (if that’s the right phrase) of the Physical Plant.

—ANNA MANN

10 Reed magazine December 2014

Tiffany Calvert, visiting assistant professor of art [BA, Oberlin College; MFA, Rutgers University] Michael Miishen Carpentier, scholar in residence (fall), assistant professor of anthropology (spring) [BA, Western Michigan University, Kalamazoo; MA, Cornell University] Rebecca Chernow, visiting assistant professor of art [BFA, Alfred University; MFA, University of Washington] David Ciuk, visiting assistant professor of political science [BA and MA, University of Massachusetts, Amherst; PhD, Michigan State University] Row 2 Alison Crocker, assistant professor of physics [BA, Dartmouth; DPhil, University of Oxford] Shane Dillingham visiting assistant professor of history and humanities [BA & PhD from the University of Maryland, College Park] Jessica Epstein, visiting assistant professor of sociology [BA, Vassar College; MA & PhD, University of Arizona] Adam Groce, visiting assistant professor of computer science (two-year appointment) [BS, MIT; PhD, University of Maryland] Sara Jaffe, visiting assistant professor of creative writing [BA, Wesleyan University; MFA, University of Massachusetts, Amherst] Christian Kroll, assistant professor of Spanish and humanities [BA, Universidad Francisco Marroquin; MA & PhD, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor]

Row 3 Elliot Leffler, visiting assistant professor of theatre [BA, Northwestern University; MA, University of Cape Town; PhD, University of Minnesota] Lucía Martínez, assistant professor of English and humanities [BM, Florida State University; MA, Columbia University; MA & PhD, University of Pennsylvania] Radhika Natarajan, assistant professor of history and humanities [BA, Yale University; MA & PhD, UC Berkeley] Kyle Ormsby, assistant professor of mathematics [BA, University of Chicago; PhD, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor] Raúl Pastor Medall, visiting associate professor of psychology [BA, MSc, & PhD, University Jaume] Cristina Rosa, visiting assistant professor of dance [BFA, California State, Chico; MA, University of Wisconsin, Madison; PhD, UCLA] Row 4 Kristin Scheible, associate professor of religion and humanities [BA, Colby College; MTS, Harvard Divinity School; PhD, Harvard University]

Brooks Thomas, visiting assistant professor of physics [BA, Macalester College; MS & PhD, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor] Kevin Tsai, visiting assistant professor of Chinese [AB, Harvard University; MA, University of Texas, Austin; PhD, Princeton University] Christopher Walsh, visiting assistant professor of chemistry and environmental studies (two-year appointment) [BS, William and Mary; MS & PhD, Oregon State University] Christopher Wells, visiting assistant professor of music [BA, Guilford College; MA & PhD, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill] Daniel Worden, visiting assistant professor of French [BA & MA, University of Oregon; MA & ABD, Princeton University] not pictured Iliana Alcántar, visiting assistant professor of Spanish [BA & MA, California State, Los Angeles; PhD, UCLA; Reed, 2007-09] Lavinia Tan, visiting assistant professor of psychology & postdoctoral fellow (fall) [BSc & PhD, University of Canterbury]

Shades of White The discredited science of eugenics served as inspiration for Shades of White, an installation by Prof. Geraldine Ondrizek [art 1994–], at the Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art at the University of Oregon. Prof.

Ondrizek spent years researching the work of Alexandra Minna Stern, a medical historian at the University of Michigan and the author of Eugenic Nation: Faults and Frontiers of Better Breeding in Modern America.

Ondrizek’s research led to a visual reinterpretation of the “Gates Skin Color Charts” created by R. Ruggles Gates and used by

eugenicists in the mid-20th century to chart race. Hand-dyed silk, displayed in 18-gauge steel boxes, approximates variations of skin pigmentation. “Her appropriation of this eugenic device to facilitate a discussion of human dignity is poignant and timely,” notes June Black, the museum’s associate curator.

“I have done similar genetic research–based projects, but I have not previously taken on such racially controversial material,” says Ondrizek, who explores personal and political issues related to genetics, ethnic identity, and disease in her work. Her choice to use

steel and silk was of particular importance for this project, she says. “These two materials had enormous effects on the global economy and human relations and as a result, our genetic inheritance for centuries.”

Shades of White is funded by a 2014 Hallie Ford Individual Artist Fellowship in the Visual Arts from the Ford Family Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts and shows in the Artist Project Space through December 14.

One of Reed’s most beloved and enduring buildings is now the proud home of alumni & parent relations and the Center for Life Beyond Reed. Remodeled over summer 2014 and fitted with fabrics and furnishings selected by interior designer Kathia Emery ’67, Prexy opened its doors to students and alumni in August and received a score of visitors during Leadership Summit in September.

“If the first few months is any indication, this renovation is something the community will benefit from for a long time,” says Mike Teskey, director of alumni & parent relations. “The interior is lovely and functional—it really works for a variety of events.”

tom humphrey

Prexy Gets Facelift

Designed by A.E. Doyle, Prexy was completed in 1915 to serve as the college president’s home (whence its name). But in 1948, President E.B. MacNaughton [1948–52] decided to maintain his own home in Portland, and Prexy was remodeled to be a men’s dormitory. In 1958,

the building was declared unsafe as a residence and was nearly demolished.

Instead, it was refurbished for day use, for Reed’s music program, in which capacity it served nobly until 2013, when the Performing Arts Building opened.

—ANNA MANN

December 2014 Reed magazine 11

Empire of the Griffin Connecting Reed alumni across the globe

Message from the President leah nash

Greetings, Reedies. As your alumni association president in the association’s centennial year, I have the honor of serving our far-flung community with the assistance of a fine leadership team and several dedicated board members and chapter leaders.

All volunteers, we collectively direct the alumni association’s goals, programs, and services, and do our best to represent the alumni in the broader Reed College community. Our primary mission, however, is simply to increase alumni engagement through a variety of local, regional and national programs designed to create a sustained connection with the college.

Our primary thrust this year will be to further develop career-based alumni connections, particularly for current students and recent graduates. In our 100th year of existence,

networks for specific career fields.

I encourage you to connect with your fellow Reedies through any one of a number of means in your area, whether it be a Thirsty Third Thursday

We are always looking for skilled and hard-working talent. we feel it’s time we focused our collective efforts on creating a strong alumni career network beyond the traditional academic ties that have been the hallmark of the Reed community. The alumni board has been structured to address this, adding to the subcommittees for Reunions and outreach the committee Life Beyond Reed. This group will have a leadership role in developing alumni career connections through programs with college staff such as Working Weekend each February, career development networks utilizing online, Reed-specific community tools such as Switchboard, and maven

14 Reed magazine December 2014

or the annual Reunions on campus.

We have also developed an online book group and a vibrant presence on social media (see alumni.reed.edu/connect).

Finally, should you feel moved to help our community, please consider volunteering either locally or through the alumni board. We are always looking for skilled and hard-working talent.

Thank you for the honor to serve as your association president this year. I look forward to seeing many of you on campus at Reunions in June.

Scott Foster ’77 President of the Alumni Association Board

Leadership Summit draws ’em back to campus Are Reedies really special? What’s the best way to advocate for Reed? How can we strengthen the Reed tribe? These and other topics formed the agenda for Reed’s Leadership Summit (formerly known as Volunteer Weekend), which was held in September.

Scores of alumni and friends descended on campus to share their insights on subjects such as strategic planning, career networking, and fundraising. The weekend kicked off with a colloquium on the value of a liberal arts education led by Seth Paskin ’90 (producer of the podcast The Partially Examined Life), Gloria Johnson ’79, and professors Libby Drumm [Spanish 1995–], Troy Cross [philosophy 2010–], and Mary James, dean for institutional diversity and A.A. Knowlton Professor of Physics [1988–].

Advocates split into working groups to figure out ways of tackling various challenges facing the college, including Reed’s relationship with the Portland community; how to improve opportunities for research and independent study for students; how to create more opportunities for alumni and parents to connect with one another; and how to encourage more young alumni to support the Annual Fund.

Alumni also discovered just how tricky it can be to find the right words to communicate what Reed’s all about at a talk by Mandy Heaton, executive director of communications and public affairs.

Another popular event took place off campus at the New Deal Distillery in southeast Portland, where young alumni gathered for a lively fundraising happy hour. Prof. Jay Dickson [English 1996–] “electrified the room with ancient tales,” and alumni caught up with old friends while enjoying the spirits of Tom Burkleaux ’92, reports Breesa Culver ’01, assistant director of the Annual Fund.

mike teskey

Caption

Westwind gathers in Oregon and—what?—Lake Michigan?!

Celebrating a long-standing tradition that began in the early ’60s, Reedies gathered for a weekend in October at Camp Westwind, a spectacular retreat on the Oregon Coast.

Westwind has now inspired a similar gathering in the midwest, known as MidWestwind, which was hosted by Alison Birkmeyer Aske ’93 and her husband, Fred, and son, Julian, on the shore of Lake Michigan in August.

David Perry ’73 and Mike Teskey report that it was a great weekend; here are some updates from those who attended.

Alison directed a staged reading of “If I Were You” and Other Elvis Presley Songs at the Greenhouse Theater in Chicago and Paul

Miller ’02 had a role in the play.

Clay Press ’81 enjoyed beach time with his wife and their three boys, who attend public schools Chicago.

Cindy Joe ’08 is still working at Fermilab.

She was at the U.S. Particle Accelerator School in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in June, and is back now from her first trip to London.

Gareth Gollrad ’87, who is is alive and well and practicing law in Chicago, had fun kayaking and fishing on the lake.

Sarah Wadsworth ’86 spent a sunny day on the beach with her family. She attended the Sixth International Conference of the Henry James Society in Aberdeen, Scotland,

is still teaching at Marquette, and has recently published articles on Emily Dickinson and on Kenneth Grahame’s Wind in the Willows.

Chris Unseth ’92 and his wife, Christiane, enjoyed meeting and talking with Reedies.

Sara Frank ’96 is still working independently and has taken up writing fiction after a long break.

Tracy Steindel Ickes ’06 took a break from practicing law to enjoy the weekend with her new husband (and her fellow Reedies).

Megan Geigner MALS ’08 came with her husband, Joel Hobson, and recently took a course in Cologne, visiting Rome on the way.

Reaching across the Aisle Some 65 alumni and friends were treated to an unusual display of bipartisan camaraderie in September, when two members of Congress—both Reedies—shared an inside perspective on government service and politics in the nation’s capital.

Republican Richard Hanna ’76 (R-NY) is a lifelong union member who tends to his organic farm in upstate New York when Congress is not in session. He serves on the transportation and infrastructure committees.

Democrat Suzan DelBene ’83 (D-WA) is a former Microsoft executive who serves

on the agriculture and judiciary committees.

The legislators took turns at the lectern to share their respective paths to the House and reflect on the demands, frustrations, and political realities that they face in carrying out their duties.

The event, “From Eliot Hall to the Halls of Richard Hanna ’76 and Suzan DelBene ’83 both serve in Congress,” was masterminded by Bennett the House of Representatives.

Barsk ’82, chair of the D.C. chapter of the alumni association, who persevered through one another. (Rumors that the Doyle Owl special election cycles and floor votes to find roosts in a secret passageway between the a time that fit the schedules of both repre- two offices proved impossible to verify.) sentatives, whose offices are right next to —ANNA MANN

December 2014 Reed magazine 15

Elegant Pro(o)f New scholarship honors Prof. Nicholas Wheeler.

BY RANDALL S. BARTON

Time has not diminished the bow-tied elegance or mellifluous voice of Prof. Nicholas Wheeler ’55 [physics 1963–2010], who inhabits the role of professor so authentically it seems like kismet.

Several former students, including seismologist Dr. Michael Fehler ’74 and physicist Steven Auerbach ’66, have contributed to a new scholarship established in Wheeler’s name.

“With his beard and brown three-piece corduroy suit, Professor Wheeler seemed the perfect image of an Edwardian physicist,” one former student remembers.

He was inspired by the lectures—delivered with passion and clarity—and lecture notes written in a flowing calligraphic script that have become something of a cult classic. Rather than teaching from textbooks, Wheeler used pen and ink to scribe his own lecture notes. (His lecture notes are now available online—see our website for details.)

“Teaching forces me to learn some physics,” Wheeler says. “I can’t stand up in front of a class of bright kids without having thought my way through the subject and written it out in my own idiosyncratic way. I find the process of preparing for class exciting; I always did.”

Wheeler was himself the beneficiary of a scholarship to Reed. When he was 12 years old, he had a paper route that took him from downtown The Dalles up the hill to the Eastern Oregon State Tuberculosis Hospital. It was his habit to stop for a chat with the keeper of the hospital’s test animals.

One day he handed the keeper a newspaper, and the man read the headline and declared, “The world will never be the same.” The U.S. had dropped the atomic bomb on Hiroshima.

“I was a child of the atomic bomb,” Wheeler says, “and I was not alone. Many, many people of my generation were turned on to physics, just as 20 years later Sputnik would turn

14 Reed magazine December 2014

another generation of people to science. My interests diverted from surgery, music, and art to figuring how the atomic bomb worked.”

In high school, he was selected as a finalist in the Westinghouse Science Talent Search and traveled to Washington, D.C., to meet scientists and President Truman. Back in The Dalles, people began suggesting that he apply to Reed.

“I was terribly naïve,” he remembers. “I thought going to college was like going to Klamath Falls on a bus; you just bought a ticket. I wrote to the college and said, ‘I’ll be coming. Please send me a scholarship.’”

Reed either appreciated his naïveté or recognized that he was ready to do the work.

He received a letter saying, “Welcome to Reed College. You’ve been awarded the John S. Schenck Memorial Scholarship.”

That was the summer of 1951. It took him 63 years to discover that Schenck had been

grant-driven machine, which is what he felt physics was becoming at the international laboratories then being developed.

In 1963 he was invited to join the Reed faculty as a theoretical physicist. He thought it would be an interim thing, but discovered that he liked the freedom to teach what he wanted the way he wanted to very bright students.

Wheeler’s retirement has been filled with pursuits both intellectual and tactile.

He built and plays a harpsichord, plays the cello, and of course is still entwined with physics. He is now preparing a new English edition of the seminal book by the brilliant Hungarian-born mathematician John von Neumann, Mathematical Foundations of Quantum Physics, first published in English

by Princeton in 1955.

“Even the equations were typed,” Wheeler explains. “It had only a few fonts, so a given

“ My ambition was to get to the bottom of things, but the bottom was far deeper than I imagined.” the president of The Dalles First National Bank and an agent for the Oregon Railroad and Navigation Company—owned by Simeon Reed. The scholarship, established

by Schenck’s widow, is one of Reed’s oldest and is restricted to residents of The Dalles.

Wheeler never planned to have an academic career. As a student at Reed, he played the double bass and was so proficient that he was invited to join Arthur Fiedler’s Boston Pops Orchestra. Having reached an existential fulcrum, he had to decide whether to be a professional musician and an amateur scientist or a professional scientist and an amateur musician. Approaching Fiedler, who was drenched in perspiration from conducting, Wheeler announced that he would stay at Reed and pursue a career in physics.

“My ambition was to get to the bottom of things,” he says. “At the time I still supposed that was possible, but the bottom was far deeper than I imagined.”

After Reed, he studied at Cornell, transferred to Brandeis, and earned a PhD in 1960. Attached as an NSF postdoctoral fellow to the Theoretical Division of CERN in Geneva, Switzerland, he also studied cello at the Conservatoire de Musique de Genève.

But he was uncomfortable being part of a

symbol might mean any number of things. The subscripts were the same size as the symbol, and the parentheses, whether they were large or small, were the same size. Many of the sentences were not translated so much as transliterated. The result was almost unreadable.”

The book is nonetheless more frequently cited today than it has been at any time since it was published. Wheeler used modern technology to prepare a readable version of the book with page dimensions in the golden ratio, an abundance of fonts, and intelligible English.

“I wanted to produce something that sat as beautifully on the page as the ideas,” he says of the book, scheduled for publication next year by Princeton University Press.

“Physicists like the material of physics,” he says. “If you’re going to be a violinist, sure, you admire Beethoven. But you have also to like the texture of your instrument, the velvet violin case, and the feel of the rosin on the bows. In the days we did it by hand, physicists liked to make integral signs and the way equations work. We like the activity in the machine shop, the way brass curls off the lathe. You’re not dealing with grand cosmic things all the time. If the day-to-day stuff of the field gives you pleasure, then you’re a contented, busy physicist.”

Contribute to the Nicholas Wheeler Scholarship at giving.reed.edu.

December 2014 Reed magazine 15

Life Beyond Reed Our recurring series explores how the liberal arts shape the careers of Reed grads. For more, check out www.reed.edu/beyond-reed.

Kinari Webb ’95 [biology]

Founder, Health In Harmony, Borneo, Indonesia

Kinari Webb trekked through the swamps of Borneo to study orangutans—only to discover that she was really more interested in helping people. After Reed she went to med school at Yale and returned to the rain forest to start Health in Harmony, a nonprofit dedicated to the notion that human and environmental health are essentially connected. HIH supports a medical and dental clinic and promotes conservation of the rain forest. The organization has grown to 101 staff, impacted the lives of countless people, and protected thousands of acres from deforestation. Her pace slowed recently after she was stung by a venomous box jellyfish in the South China Sea, but she won't stop—she's now working on a new health center.

Thesis: Regeneration of Two

Primate-Dispersed Rain Forest Trees, Alangium Javanicum and Baccaurea Bracteata. Advisers: Prof. Steven Black [bio 1989– 2012] and Prof. Keith Karoly [bio 1994–] What was your career ambition at Reed? I thought

I would be a primatologist like Dian Fossey. After my junior year, I took a year off to research orangutans in Borneo.

And I learned something very important. Orangutans are boring. They are mostly solitary, sitting in trees and pretty much doing nothing for hours and hours. I realized it takes a certain type of person to do this research. After a year, I said, "Nope, not going to do this."

Then what? During that year

in Indonesia I visited a hospital, and thought, "Wow, I could be a doctor." I could see how profoundly blessed—and lucky—I had been to have been born in the United States. I realized I wanted to come back to Indonesia and make a difference.

What did Reed teach you?

Reed helped make me an integrated thinker. And that is so important in my work today. It’s about thinking in systems—the history, the politics, the linguistics.

How did you like med school?

Med school was tough, but I did very well. I knew what I wanted to do. I got a lot of flak for wanting to do international medicine. People couldn’t understand why I wasn’t pursuing the most prestigious specialties and residencies. I started worrying that maybe I was making a stupid mistake.

What kept you pursuing your dream? I talk about it in terms

of stepping off a cliff. At first you don’t know what’s going to happen, but as you move forward, each time a step materializes out of the mist.

That’s one piece of advice I’d give young people starting out. If you follow your passion, things will work out.

What do you appreciate most about living in the rain forest?

Imagine a cathedral of trees towering sixty meters up, and you have this beautiful sun, and the gibbons are singing— they sing a beautiful song.

What’s the first thing you like to do when you get back the States? This is a very

conservative community— there’s no dancing. So one of my favorite things is to go out to a club and dance.

Michael Richardson ’07 [political science] Senior Director of Product, Urban Airship, Portland

In 2009, a Portland startup named Vidoop went broke and software engineer Michael Richardson was out of a job. He signed up for a special Oregon state program that provides unemployment benefits to entrepreneurs, and launched Urban Airship together with three former coworkers.

From a fledgling startup, Urban Airship now employs 180 at its Portland headquarters, providing push notifications, in-app messaging, and location targeting on mobile devices.

If you rely on your smart phone to tell you about Arsenal’s goal or remind you to refill your prescription, chances are good that UA is behind it.

Raised in rural Idaho, Richardson credits Reed with broadening his worldview and strengthening his critical thinking.

“I thought Reed would make me a better person, and it did.”

Thesis: Stumptown Under

Scrutiny: Who Votes in Portland, Oregon. Adviser: Prof. Paul Gronke [poli sci 2001–] Have you always been an entrepreneur? When I was

about five years old, I wanted money to play video games at a store in town. So I sold twigs as kindling and pretty rocks out on the sidewalk. Every time someone took pity on me and paid me a quarter, I’d run into the store to play, then rush back out to the sidewalk to make more money.

What was the worst job you ever had? In high school I

came up with the idea with some friends of starting a catering business—a fine concept in a city, but not such a great idea in a town of 800.

It was an excellent lesson in market demand and supply.

What was your first job after Reed? I interned in Portland

City Hall for Commissioner Sam Adams [who was later elected mayor]. My first job was doing technology for a political consulting firm, combining my interest in politics and programming. For a while I worked for a tiny start-up named Bac'n. We sold bacon.

You worked at Vidoop, which eventually crashed. What did you take away from that experience? We tried to learn

as much as possible from a terrible experience. The biggest thing for me was the value of integrity and critical thinking in business. You can’t get away with convincing yourself something is true; you have to prove it out.

What does a senior director of product actually do? I

manage the roadmap for the company, basically.

How do you handle the pressures of the startup world? I don’t know how else

to be. I just can’t imagine operating in a world where there wasn’t something always on the line.

What advice do you give budding entrepreneurs? Keep

yourself grounded in reality, but don’t be afraid to be ambitious. Constantly expose yourself to new ideas and different ways of thinking, and when the right thing happens, it will be obvious to you.

Out of the Shadows Barbara Peschiera ’82 helps children recover from sexual abuse—and bring their abusers to justice.

BY RAYMOND RENDLEMAN ’06

Isabella Butler had a question for the judge.

Could she bring a friend with her to the witness stand for moral support?

It was an unusual request, but under the circumstances, Clackamas County Circuit Court Judge Robert D. Herndon granted it.

Isabella’s stepfather, Cliff Robert Martinez, first began abusing her when she was just eight years old. She kept the secret until she was 13, when she reported the abuse. But shortly after that, she recanted her accusation because she feared losing his financial support for her wheelchair-bound mother.

Years later, she finally told detectives in Oregon City the truth about her stepfather.

At their behest, she called Martinez and got him to admit to his perverse acts while they taped the conversation—an act of courage that led to this day in court.

Now 18, Isabella walked with her friend to the front of the courtroom, where she unfolded a statement she had written in all-capital letters on a few sheets of notebook paper.

The girls held hands and Isabella began to read, glancing up occasionally to look directly into the eyes of the man who molested her.

“I will never forgive or forget what you have done to me,” she said.

It was a moving speech and a remarkable show of bravery. It was also, in many ways, a testament to the work of Barbara Peschiera ’82, executive director of the Children’s Center, an Oregon City nonprofit dedicated to supporting and assessing children who have been subjected to abuse and neglect. A passionate advocate for children, Barbara has played a vital role in developing nationally emulated programs designed to end the trauma of child abuse.

Walking through the labyrinthine Children’s Center, you’ll see plenty of plush sofas for family gatherings and teddy bears for kids

18 Reed magazine september 2014

to take home. Further back, you’ll also see microscopes hovering over exam tables.

Interview rooms maintain the sofa-and-teddy-bear aesthetic, but also feature walls of one-way mirrors.

Oregon had no independent organizations to help children and families recover from child abuse until 1985, when Dr. Jan Bays created a child-abuse clinic at Emanuel Hospital. “After the 1980s, the interest in exploring it as a physical and medical issue exploded,” says Mike Regan, the Clackamas County deputy district attorney who runs the child-protection department. “They’re able to treat the child and let the child know that despite those years of abuse, their bodies are going to heal.”

The mission of the Children’s Center is primarily clinical—that is, focused on the child’s well being—but interviews by Children’s Center investigators often yield evidence that plays a pivotal role in the courtroom.

Interviews typically begin by asking children about what they remember doing with the suspect. But questions can’t be leading. Instead of asking, “Did he touch you?” more common questions are: “Who was in the bedroom at the time?” “Where was he

regularly with leaders of local health and law-enforcement agencies.

“Barbara’s very open to feedback, highly professional and a good listener,” says Regan. “The defense attorneys frequently try to paint the Children’s Center as an arm of the prosecution, but they make their own determinations, and we often

“ Parents and families are doing their best with what they have.” in the room?” and “What happened then?”

Such questions encourage children to hop up onto those sofas and demonstrate what everyone was doing that day. Anatomically correct dolls, rarely used, are available for children having trouble expressing the events of an incident in question.

“We ask who was in the room and what happened in the room, and we would never bring up the sex thing,” Barbara says.

Prosecutors have been impressed with Barbara’s leadership. After taking charge of the Children’s Center in 2012, she built relationships in Clackamas County by visiting

disagree with them.”

That’s why the public needs multiple partners to protect families against abuse, Barbara argues. Since it’s not an arm of law enforcement, the Children’s Center can provide more comprehensive support for families. “Parents and families are doing their best with what they have, and hopefully with investigating sexual abuse, we’re helping them have the tools to improve their situation,” she says. “In situations where families are challenged, we also point out things they do well, because the only bad guy is the offender, and it’s important to remember that.”

leah nash

of sexual and physical abuse, and roughly half of the children who are referred to the center test positive for drug exposure. One case involved a three-year-old boy, who was referred because of concerns that he had been exposed to marijuana. His test results showed that he had actually ingested ecstasy.

Kids who are referred to the center for drug endangerment are now also evaluated for other types of abuse, because parental drug involvement raises the risk that their children will be abused or neglected.

After reading an article about the Children’s Center in the Oregon City News, an investigation company executive was so impressed that he decided to offer a similar service in North Carolina. “When I saw that article, I thought to myself, ‘that’s wonderful,’ and now I’m thinking about how to replicate this,” said Mike Bostic of M&K Record Researches in Greenville. “It’s just one good way for the counties and prosecution to verify that people are doing what they say they’re doing.”

At the end of her sophomore year at Reed, Barbara couldn’t become a junior until she declared a major. “There was no humanities degree at Reed, so I decided to major in religion—even though I hadn’t taken a religion course,” she recalls. Using the Reed major with the least number of requirements, she decided she could build a humanities background for herself.

Taking a German history class with Prof.

Christine Mueller [history 1973–2004], Barbara was struck by many parallels in German and American culture. She concluded that what happened in Europe in the thirties could happen here—or (on a smaller scale) within a family having challenges.

“It’s easy just to blame Hitler for the atrocities, but there was an environment that allowed that to happen, and I see that in families,” she says. “So much of our history is about power and control, as is child abuse. Sexual abusers do not have a mental illness—for them it’s about power and control, so I try to be mindful of who’s marginalized and how that changes their relationship with who’s powerful.”

After graduating from Reed, Barbara got a degree in journalism from Northwestern University and worked as a reporter for more than 12 years at newspapers including the Oregonian and the Statesman Journal.

“I think that broad liberal-arts background was very useful in covering the multitude of stories as a journalist, and it’s given me a bit of a moral grounding as I’ve approached nonprofit work,” she says. “The education I got at Reed gave me a sense of the physiological and sociological conflicts of human beings and gives me a sense of what unites us as human beings.”

She later became the first executive director of the Columbia Learning Center, in St. Helens, Oregon, and then served as development director for the Oregon Health & Science University Foundation, the Oregon Food Bank, and the Oregon Zoo, before taking the helm of the Children’s Center.

The Children’s Center has been at the forefront of research into the connection between child abuse and drug abuse.

Studies have found that children whose parents have drug problems are at greater risk

“Today I finished a horrible chapter in my life,” Isabella told the courtroom, where more than a dozen of her friends and family members had gathered to show their support. Thanks to her work with Barbara, the police, and her own courage, her stepfather pleaded guilty.

Judge Herndon then sentenced him to 15 years in prison. “He committed, short of murder, the most horrible act,” the judge said.

During the sentencing, court officials lauded Isabella’s bravery in coming forward to the witness stand to read a statement.

Although Barbara cannot comment on specific cases, she’s found that it takes an intentional intellectual process to manipulate a child to do something sexual. She encourages parents to have conversations with their children about how they react to strange behavior.

“The overriding value is a child’s innocence and purity, and that’s an important state to preserve in children, while at the same time preparing them to protect themselves,” Barbara says. “The biggest message parents can give their children to keep them safe is always communicate how special and how loved that child is and continually open the door to talk if they have experiences that confuse or scare them.”

Raymond Rendleman ’06 is the editor of the Oregon City News.

His last article for Reed was about Emilio Pucci ’37.

september 2014 Reed magazine 19

Crisis in Arnhem Land Joshua Bell ’99 turns his lens on Aboriginal Australians fighting to save their culture.

Filmmaker Joshua Bell’s new documentary, In Between Songs, released in August 2014, frames a critical juncture in the lives and history of the Aboriginal people of Arnhem Land in Australia’s Northern Territory.

In 1952, beset by a shortage of food, high unemployment, and a chronic lack of investment, 20 Aboriginal clans were coerced into letting Western investors open a bauxite mining operation near their ancestral territory. For 60 years, a lucrative processing plant—set a few hundred feet from the clans’ homeland—has turned rock into aluminum destined for computers, cell phones, and soda cans. Of the $50 million in royalties they were promised, the clans have seen very little, and for every ton of aluminum wrenched from their land, 13 tons of toxic chemicals leach into their soil and the water table.

As the film opens, clan elder Dhanggal Gurruwiwi stands barefoot on the shore of Wirriku Island. She tosses her fishing line into the water, time and again, while ruminating on the troubles faced by the Galpu people. Life was never easy, she says, but before the mine the clan drew spiritual health, unity, and purpose from traditions— their roots tracing back 40,000 years.

Mining has eroded clan traditions.

Living standards have plummeted; alcohol and drugs are everywhere. Young people sport name-brand clothing, sip Coca-Cola, and play video games, but have no formal education.

Now in his 80s, Dhanggal’s brother, elder Djalu Gurruwiwi, must find a successor among the younger clan members to guard and teach the sacred law and songs.

Not only does Djalu play the didjeridu (yirdaki or mandapul for the Galpu), but he is arguably the most respected spiritual custodian

20 Reed magazine December 2014

of the sacred instrument, whose haunting vibrations echo throughout the film.

Joshua spent more than a decade making In Between Songs, which he wrote, directed, and produced, with narration by Emmy Award–winning actor and activist James Cromwell. The story may have had its beginning at Reed, he says, where his creative foundations and critical thinking were forged, and where he studied English and creative writing, and first discovered the didjeridu. “I heard the sound of the instrument and my life changed,” he says.

“Hunting for Didjeridus,” one of three short stories in Saltwater Man, his creative thesis written with Prof. Nathalia King [English 1987–], tells the story of Joshua’s first foray into Aboriginal society in Northern Victoria. Through a series of chance encounters, and diligent research, Joshua was invited to Arnhem Land and introduced to Djalu, which set in motion his quest to learn the didjeridu.

Over the next 12 years, he made five trips to Arnhem Land, bringing additional crew and building a unique bond with Djalu, his family, and the Aboriginal community. “Nothing could prepare me for the challenges of working within the community,” he says. “It was wonderful and scary, tragic and mystical, simultaneously. My head was constantly spinning.”

Joshua earned an MFA in film at the University of Southern California, having started his career as a filmmaker at the Northwest Film Center in Portland.

He spent nearly two years working with Cody Hanson ’99 on his first documentary, Elements of Style, about underground hip-hop in Minnesota’s Twin Cities.

In Between Songs frames the crisis in Arnhem Land with a series of vignettes. A woman at work in her garden talks about

the pace of the work being vital to her mental health. An inebriated man rails about his need for beer as a child looks on in the dark.

Women meticulously paint designs on the skin of boys for the ceremony of manhood. A young man sings “new music” accompanied by the pop beat of an electronic keyboard.

Joshua shows Dhanggal teaching her grandchildren about sacred water and about finding fish and turtle eggs to share with the hungry community. She muses about relocating the clan to an undeveloped portion of Wirriku Island, where distractions would

photo by august Thurmer

Larry Gurruwiwi, Djalu Gurruwiwi’s son and possible successor, searches through a eucalyptus grove for the tree trunk he will craft into a didjeridu.

lessen in the face of tasks necessary for survival, but it is an expensive and impractical solution.

“In the current media landscape, the art of storytelling is getting lost,” Joshua states. “Though filmmaking perfectly synergizes painting, photography, dance, acting, and music, the immediacy of social media has replaced the art of thought-provoking content creation.”

Djalu moves instinctually through a eucalyptus grove to a tree that has been hollowed out by termites. When cut down, cleaned,

and peeled, its trunk will be transformed into a didjeridu that Djalu will carefully tune.

But, who will take up the ancient work? he wonders. Who will make the music? The sound Djalu produces is deep—it is the sound he came to hear and the one held by the land. The sound others make is like the wind blowing . . . —LAURIE LINDQUIST Go Further www.joshuaabell.com www.inbetweensongs.com

December 2014 Reed magazine 21

The Man Behind the Mike NPR host Arun Rath ’92 finds his voice on the air If you happened to share a taxi with Arun Rath, you might not recognize his face. But you might recognize his voice: equal parts warmth and precision, alive with curiosity.

Arun is the host of the weekend edition of All Things Considered, which plays on nearly 700 local NPR stations every Saturday and Sunday.

All Things Considered is NPR’s flagship news program, of course, a journalistic institution for more than four decades. But Arun keeps it fresh and unpredictable. On a recent Saturday he began by focusing on turmoil in the Middle East. Instead of handling it as a straight news story, however, he compared how the Arab press and the American press were covering the crisis. He then rolled into a segment on the Kansas City Royals’ making the playoffs for the first time since 1985 when, as he said, “Ronald Reagan was president, Larry King Live debuted on CNN, and topping the charts? Careless Whisper

by Wham! That was George Michael and... that other guy.”

Next Arun talked about the resignation of Attorney General Eric Holder, then switched gears, introducing NPR listeners to a band called Moon Hooch, which plays house music produced not with electronics but by live musicians playing actual instruments. He also did a squib on Oktoberfest in Munich, an event that, as he put it, “makes Burning Man look like a house party.”

“I love diving into the full range of the human experience, which is pretty much the definition of this show,” he said later.

Identify the top news stories of the week.

Find a way to make them intimate and compelling before an audience of two million listeners—well, that’s a real trick.

And a lot of pressure.

Arun came to the weekend post for All Things Considered with considerable experience as a reporter. He began his career at NPR working for Talk of the Nation, and eventually became the program’s director. He’s been

22 Reed magazine December 2014

a senior producer for NPR’s On the Media, where he helped win a Peabody Award, and a senior editor at Studio 360, an arts and culture radio program. He’s also worked for PBS’s Frontline and PRI’s The World, where he developed a beat covering national security and military justice.

That reporting experience was invaluable.

But he soon realized that being a reporter and being a host are two different things. As a reporter, you’re “pretty much a one-man band,” he says. “It was just me with my kit and that was that.” As host, he’s got a full team behind him.

It’s a weird thing, learning to be yourself on the air.

It doesn’t come easily.

The difference runs deeper than that, however. Reporters try to keep themselves— their viewpoints, their interests, their personalities—out of the news.

“People working in serious journalism, we don’t want to think too much about personality because it seems a bit shallow,” he explains. But as a host, “you can’t be a totally blank slate. People will see a certain amount of fakery in that.”

So Arun understood from the get-go that he’d have to do something to which he was unaccustomed professionally—he’d have to act natural.

“It’s a weird thing, learning to be yourself on the air,” he says. “It doesn’t come easily.”

Being yourself on the radio is partly a matter of letting your personality shine through, but it also has to do with the stories you select for the show.

Still, if you ask Arun about the ingredients for a perfect story, he doesn’t really have a formula. It’s fluid, he says, a combination of the news of the week and stray items that catch the eye of himself and his staff.

His personal interests? He’s a news

junkie, of course. He also loves music—classical, jazz, soul, whatever. He is an alternative comedy geek and a theatre buff. He’s the first Indian American host of an NPR newsmagazine, and he’s also a dad. Pay attention to the program and you’ll hear—it’s all in there.

Which brings us back to the sheer range of stories on his program. In some ways, he traces that to Reed.

He left high school feeling “like a bit of a misfit.” Then he found Reed. “It was a place where misfits were welcome,” he recalls. “It felt like a safety zone, where whatever kind

carlos quinteros jr.

of things you wanted to obsess on or drill into, it was all good.”

He loved it all. From reading the classics in Hum 110 to German literature with his favorite professor, the late Ottomar Rudolf [German 1963–98]; to the one-off explorations of Paideia; to the demands of writing an English thesis—it all had an influence on his career.

“That kind of mad eclecticism suited me well becoming a host,” he said.

That interdisciplinary curiosity echoes through the show. One weekend, he has comedian Patton Oswalt on air talking about

Moby Dick. Next he’s exploring the minimum having the same conversation,” he said sadly. wage, reporting on the California drought, or “I thought we were going to be the last geninterviewing an author about Shostakovich eration that was stomping this out.” and the siege of Leningrad.

Packing so many diverse topics into a sinStill another broadcast examined a new gle hour is an intellectual juggling act—one law in California making clear guidelines as that requires hours of research, as many as 10 to what constitutes sexual consent. When interviews a day, and a deft touch on the air. one of the program staffers pitched the idea, But Arun thrives on the challenge. Whether it was, to paraphrase Yogi Berra, like déjà he’s explaining the Ebola virus, talking to the vu all over again. Arun remembered talk- Flaming Lips, or examining the mystery of ing about the “Antioch rules” when he was a Amelia Earhart, he makes it sound natural. student at Reed. Back then, the Ohio liberal —MAUREEN O’HAGAN arts college became the butt of jokes when it Maureen O’Hagan is a freelance writer and editor in Seattle. She drew up similar guidelines. “In 2014, we’re can be reached at maureen.k.ohagan@gmail.com.

December 2014 Reed magazine 23

FOLLOW THE MONEY

Prof. Kim Clausing reveals how U.S. corporations exploit tax loopholes worth billions of dollars.

24 Reed magazine  December 2014

BY ROMEL HERNANDEZ PHOTOS BY LEAH NASH

When news broke last summer that fast-food behemoth Burger King was taking over the Canadian coffee-and-doughnuts chain Tim Hortons, it made headlines around the globe.

For starters, there was the sheer size of the deal. A hefty $11.5 billion. Just as significant, however, were the tax implications. The merger would allow Burger King to register itself as a Canadian company, thereby avoiding millions of dollars in U.S. taxes.

To understand the story, reporters from the Wall Street Journal to Time turned to Reed professor Kim Clausing, a leading expert on how multinational corporations pay—or don’t pay—their taxes.

Prof. Clausing is “one of the world’s experts in international public finance,” says Leonard Burman, director of the Tax Policy Center, a D.C.-based nonpartisan think tank that is a joint venture of the Brookings Institution and the Urban Institute.

She has been twice named a Fulbright research scholar, doing research in Belgium and Cyprus, won grants from the National Science Foundation, the Smith Richardson Foundation, and others, and has published more than two dozen articles. She is also a renowned figure on campus—students rave about her uncanny ability to bring clarity to complexity, as well as her supportive mentoring.

“She’s so accomplished, but at the same time she’s very humble,” says Brian Moore ’13, whom Clausing converted from a philosophy to an economics major, and who currently works as a research assistant for the White House Council of Economic Advisers, as she once did. “Kim is such a clear, precise thinker, and she makes sure to give you just as much complexity as you need to understand a concept . . . I learned the bread and butter of economic analysis from Kim, and that’s something that is relevant in my job every day.”

“What’s remarkable about Kim is that she’s an excellent teacher who is also able to thrive in her research,” says Prof. Jeff Parker [1988–], the senior member of the economics department at Reed. “Whatever she does, it is always of the highest quality.”

December 2014 Reed magazine 25

Clausing Clausing’s recent work examines how U.S. multinationals merge with overseas companies, enabling them to define themselves as foreign corporations under U.S .tax code and thus avoid paying U.S. taxes. Known as corporate inversions, these deals can save companies millions and sometimes billions of dollars in income taxes in the U.S., where the 35% corporate tax rate is among the steepest in the world.

In the past year, major corporations ranging from Chiquita (bananas) to Medtronic (medical devices) announced inversion-related moves overseas. Fearing a consumer backlash, Walgreens (drug stores) recently dropped plans to move its headquarters to Switzerland.

President Obama recently denounced tax inversions as “unpatriotic.” The White House wants to find ways to limit inversions, such as raising the percentage of foreign ownership required in companies that move abroad from the current 20% to 50%. Others, including Senator Orrin Hatch (R-Utah), the top Republican on the finance committee, instead propose cutting corporate tax rates so that multinationals have less incentive to park their profits overseas.

Any way you slice it, inversion—and the wider issue of corporate taxation—has become a hot-button political issue, and Clausing’s research puts her smack in the middle of the debate.

Senator Ron Wyden (D-Oregon), the powerful chairman of the Senate finance committee, recently knocked the federal tax code as a “dysfunctional, rotting mess of a carcass.”

He rings Clausing up on occasion to get her thoughts (she is not a paid consultant). “Tax policy can be pretty dense and usually has the same excitement as a root canal, but Professor Clausing always makes it interesting, relevant, and understandable,” says Senator Wyden, who has championed tax reform over his 33 years representing Oregon in Congress. “We have minisummits on the subject at neighborhood coffee shops, where I know she will always provide good sense and a smart, factdriven analysis about policy.”

Clausing is careful to avoid partisan rhetoric when she talks about taxes. “I see the issue a bit more analytically,” she says. “I have a hard time seeing what these companies are doing (with tax inversions) in strict moral terms, as being patriotic or unpatriotic. If I were the tax director of a major multinational firm, and I saw these games you can play, I’d be

26 Reed magazine December 2014

“ I am motivated to pursue intellectually honest answers in every case, not by any particular political aim, and my work is as careful and honest as I can possibly make it.” tempted to play them, too, since tax directors have a primary responsibility to the shareholders. What we really have is an unpatriotic tax code, because it encourages companies to do these shenanigans.”

That said, fixing the tax code is not a simple matter. Clausing estimates that the U.S. government loses 60 to 90 billion dollars each year due to the tax avoidance of multinational firms. Reform options range from simple steps that would shut particular loopholes all the way to comprehensive measures that would change the entire system of multinational corporate taxation as we know it today.

In terms of first steps, Clausing supports simple measures, like better data collection, that can shed more light on the scale of the problem. She has contributed her thoughts to an ongoing process by the Organization of Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) that seeks to stem corporate base erosion and profit shifting, in part by developing

better data sources and research methods.

Other modest reforms could tighten loopholes and help protect the U.S. tax base, and Clausing notes that there is a surprising degree of consensus around the broad idea of coupling a lower corporate tax rate with a broader corporate tax base and the closing of loopholes. But, as with many policy issues, the devil is in the details.

In terms of more systemic reform, Clausing favors an idea known as “formulary apportionment.” In this system, multinational firms would be taxed based on their worldwide income, and some share of that income would be assigned to the U.S. tax base, depending on how much of their economic activity occurred in the United States. This would insulate the U.S. tax base from the sorts of accounting shenanigans that have led to large revenue losses in the past.

Clausing grew up in Champaign, Illinois. Her father was an engineering professor at the University of Illinois who wanted his two daughters to follow in his footsteps. She remembers that for her 12th birthday, he got her a reverse Polish notation scientific calculator. Her sister studied engineering and now works for Ford. With the encouragement of her mother, who had earned degrees in music and literature, Clausing went to Carleton College in Minnesota.

Economics appealed to her early on because she saw it as a practical approach to solving society’s problems. “Economics is about taking your common sense further,” she says. “You can sit there and have a conversation with someone about climate change or the minimum wage and come up with many sorts of ideas. But if you have an economics background, you can stretch your common sense further in a more rigorous and systematic way and ultimately, I think, come up with more sensible solutions to your problems.”

After majoring in economics at Carleton, Clausing went to Harvard, earning a PhD in 1996 in international economics, which she notes tended to be a male-dominated field of study. “I wanted to prove something to myself,” she says.

Clausing focused her studies on a niche that has defined her career: the intersection of government tax policy and international trade. “There aren’t a lot of people who work in both areas, so there are a lot of interesting questions to ask,” she says.

What she finds most interesting, she says, is the role of government in what is an increasingly international economy. “You wind up with questions that economics should be good at solving, like, ‘How do you tax a company that doesn’t belong anywhere?”

Clausing spent a year as a staff economist for the White House Council of Economic Advisers before coming to Reed in 1996. She chose Reed because she wanted both to teach and do research—plus, Reed reminded her of Carleton. (In the middle of the interview for this article she sprang up from her chair, went to one of her shelves, and plucked out the original copy of Job Openings for Economists containing the want ad for the job at Reed starred.)

Prof. Carl Stevens ’46 [economics 1954– 90] took her under his wing at Reed. Though he had recently retired, Stevens was a sterling example of an academic who cared about making a difference in the real world. “Carl was very wise because he realized what we did here was important, but it wasn’t everything,” she says.

“He was an inspiration because he never got caught up in campus minutiae. He was always thinking about the bigger issues and what he could to make the world a better place.”

Years later, one of her thesis advisees, Dawn Teele ’06, married Stevens’ grandson Josh Simon ’05. Clausing played matchmaker, and eventually, ordained through the mail-order Universal Life Church, presided over the couple’s wedding vows.

Teele, who went on to earn a doctorate in political science at Yale and is now a postdoc at the London School of Economics, describes Clausing as a “very frank, very funny” professor who always made economic concepts relevant to students. She was a caring, involved mentor, Teele says, who once gave her a valuable piece of advice before a job interview.

“She told me to always take a two-second pause before answering any question. I still think about that whenever I have an interview. I say to myself, ‘Be like Kim.’” A recent session of Econ 201, Clausing’s introductory Principles of Economics class, demonstrated her skill as a teacher. (It also took place on a day when she was quoted in the New York Times.) Leading the class through

a discussion of supply and demand, she sketched graphs on the blackboard to illustrate important concepts, pausing frequently to pose or answer questions from the 20 students, most of them freshmen and sophomores. Dressed in a classic, understated style— black pencil skirt and blue blouse— she explored concepts such as elasticity and equilibrium by returning again and again to concrete examples such as paying rent and filling up the gas tank.

“To teach well, you have to imagine what it’s like not to understand what you’re teaching,” she explains. “I love the intro class the most because of that, actually. Before students take the class, there are so many mysteries in the world they don’t understand.

Like, ‘Why is the unemployment rate what it is?’ Or, ‘Why is China’s economic growth faster than Bangladesh’s?’ To be able to take them in one semester from a state of ignorance to having some framework for thinking more deeply about those questions is rewarding.”

Accomplishing so much as an educator and as a scholar while being the divorced single mother of two school-age children, however, doesn’t leave much free time. She can’t help staying busy, given her Midwestern work ethic. She strikes a work/life balance—and maintains her seemingly preternatural equanimity—thanks to a passion for organization.

“To a fault actually,” she admits with a sigh of resignation, adding, half in jest, that she puts together “a spreadsheet for everything.”

After all, she’s got numbers to crunch, papers and policy briefs to write (more than a half-dozen published the past few years), and students to teach and advise.

Asked to sum up what it is that drives her to work so hard, Clausing offers up a pithy quotation from one of her intellectual heroes, Nobel Prize–winning economist Paul Krugman: But the honest truth is that what drives me as an economist is that economics is fun . . .

There is hardly anything I know that is as exciting as finding that the great events that move history, the forces that determine the destiny of empires and the fate of kings, can sometimes be explained, predicted, or even controlled by a few symbols on the printed page. We all want power, we all want success, but the ultimate reward is the simple joy of understanding.

Romel Hernandez is a freelance writer based in Portland.

December 2014 Reed magazine 27

Facing the End

Holly Pruett ’85 gets us to talk about our deepest fear.

BY RANDALL S. BARTON | PHOTO BY CLAYTON COTTERELL

If you knew your death would come when you finished reading this article, you might greet it like Anne Boleyn at the block: accept your fate with courage and dignity, pay the executioner, and die with one stroke of the blade. You might also read very slowly.

The truth is that until it’s imminent, few of us are willing to contemplate death—and even fewer to talk about it.

Holly Pruett has taken the subject out of the closet and made it the centerpiece at her PDX Death Cafe, where people gather to consume sugary desserts and discuss shuffling off the mortal coil.

In a Portland park, strangers gather, six to a table, to experience their first Death Cafe.

A woman shares that she started thinking a lot about death after being diagnosed with cancer. Another recounts a wake where children played near the open casket of their kindly grandfather. A man relives the fiery, ghoulish nightmares he had after viewing his grandfather’s corpse when he was a child.

It may sound like a scene from the film Harold and Maude, but the notion of folks coming together to discuss death gained steam 10 years ago when Swiss sociologist Bernard Crettaz began hosting what he called the Café Mortel. Attendees talked about the nature of death, and how our fear of it informs the way we live. In an age of tweets and text messages, these

conversations proved engagingly authentic. Frothy “I am here” postings on social media and sound-bite news stories felt mundane and fleeting compared to something so profound and final.

In 2011, Londoner Jon Underwood established the Death Cafe franchise, providing open forums for talking about death while eating cake. (The cake is supposed to help people steady their nerves.) The notfor-profit events have no structure, themes, or guest speakers, and are not intended to provide information or grief counseling.

Bucking the conventional wisdom that people don’t wish to talk about death, Underwood discovered legions eager to

December 2014 Reed magazine 29

discuss one of life’s crowning experiences.

The declining influence of organized religion in people’s lives may contribute to the Death Cafe’s rapid growth. There are now more than 900 Death Cafes in 19 countries.

But Underwood suggests that another factor spurring interest is the baby boomer generation coming to the top of life’s escalator.

“That’s the generation that has had the best services throughout their lives,” he says, “and I don’t think they’ll settle for secondclass services when they come to the end of their lives.”

Holly Pruett radiates the clear-eyed conviction of a cleric. Three of her female relatives are Presbyterian ministers, and though she operates outside of that paradigm, she

Portland “like a duck takes to water.” She chose history as her major, and wrote her thesis on the 1905 Lewis & Clark Centennial Exposition.

During her senior year she volunteered at the Portland Women’s Crisis Line, and after graduating took a job at a women’s shelter.

Facilitating peer-led sessions, she witnessed the power that comes from hearing someone else’s story.

“I wasn’t there to solve any problems or provide answers,” she says. “But I could hold up a mirror and reflect back images of the women as capable, worthy, and intelligent that were different from the reflection that the abuse had shown them.”

At 25 she took a break and traveled through Europe and Southeast Asia, during which time she came out as a lesbian.

WHY ARE WE SO RELUCTANT TO TALK ABOUT DEATH AND DYING? often describes her work as being like a secular chaplain. As a “life-cycle celebrant,” she weaves her client’s stories, beliefs, and traditions into ceremonies that commemorate major life events.

“Celebrations connect us to each other, to our community, and to the meaning in our life, which we can often skate behind,” Holly says. “When it is done well, ceremony allows us to bring the sacred into our lives—whether or not you use that word.”

Because humanity continues to cross the same thresholds, acknowledging these passages gets people outside their own story to connect both with those who have come before and those that will follow. Nonetheless, Holly says that the ways we approach funerals, births, marriages, and deaths have become formulaic and overly commercial.

“The needs are timeless,” she says, “but the conventional ways they are being met have become anachronistic and stale.”

Using skills honed as a student at Reed, Holly uncovers narrative needing to be strengthened, transformed, released, witnessed, remembered, affirmed, grieved, or memorialized. She suggests a path of inquiry to get there, and often officiates at the resulting ceremony.

Attracted to Reed for its academic rigor and counterculture reputation, she moved from New Haven, Connecticut, taking to

30 Reed magazine December 2014

By the time she returned to Oregon the state was embroiled in a battle over Measure 8.

Sponsored by the Oregon Citizens Alliance, the 1988 initiative repealed Governor Neil Goldschmidt’s executive order banning discrimination based on sexual orientation in the executive branch of state government.

Holly joined in the fight, and though voters approved the measure, she got an education in how the advocacy process works at the ballot.

Entering the world of Salem politics, she took a job as a lobbyist for the Women’s Rights Coalition, followed by a stint as director of the Oregon Coalition against Domestic and Sexual Violence, a statewide coalition of women’s shelters and rape hotlines. For nearly 20 years she worked as a leader in the nonprofit sector and behind the scenes in advocacy campaigns. Then, in her late thirties, her father was diagnosed with cancer.

“The theme in my life had been losing my father,” Holly says. “First it was his work, then a four-year affair culminating in a 6,000mile relocation just six days after my parents’ divorce. He never came back.”

Holly helped care for her father and lived with him the last summer of his life. But when he died 18 months after his diagnosis, her stepmother was too exhausted to go through the ordeal of a funeral. She had the body cremated and sent Holly some of his

Why don’t we talk about death and dying?

We live in a death-phobic culture where the end of life is seen as a failure rather than an achievement, Holly answers. Everyone recognizes the difficulty of giving birth and being born, but few honor the work it takes to die. In one century our society has progressed from families laying out their dead in the parlor to what Kenneth Hillman, professor of intensive care at the University of New South Wales, Australia, calls “ICU conveyor belt death . . . where even doctors don’t feel comfortable talking about death and dying.” Studies show that

AP Photo/Steve Dykes

ashes in a yogurt container.

“I had to figure out for myself some kind of ritual that would help me,” Holly says. “I realized later it was less a memorial for him and more a rite of passage for myself, fully becoming a fatherless daughter. That’s what really set me on the path.”

A door had closed, but another opened and Holly stepped forward on a path of new professional engagement.

“I was raised to get to the level of highest impact,” she says. “Why be a teacher when you can be a principal? I had developed the strategy that could bring 5,000 people to the state capitol or affect the biennial budget, but I wanted to be more personally and directly involved with the important things in people’s lives.”

A friend shared a magazine story about a green burial preserve in South Carolina and suggested they bring the idea to Portland.

In natural burial, human remains are interred without being embalmed or entombed in a vault or liner. Placed in a shroud or biodegradable casket, the body simply decomposes into the earth.

In America, embalming gained currency during the Civil War because it enabled the interment of dead soldiers back home. Tens of thousands viewed the fallen president as Abraham Lincoln’s funeral train progressed from Washington, D.C., to Springfield, Illinois.

In more than a dozen cities people filed past his casket and marveled at the preservation of the corpse, establishing a precedent for creating a focal point for the funeral.

Holly was working with Portland’s River View Cemetery to offer natural burials—concurrently taking instruction in funeral celebrancy—when she first heard of the Death Cafe. Approaching several other Portland practitioners, she suggested they give it a try.

Holly Pruett (right) officiated at the marriage of Julia Fraser (left) and Jessica Rohrbacher (center) on the day that a federal judge granted gay and lesbian couples the freedom to marry in Oregon.

almost half of the cost of health care is spent in the last six months of life.

“We want people to be medicated and shunted off so that we don’t see the work that it takes to die,” Holly says. “We don’t have the opportunity to learn from it.”

PDX Death Cafe has drawn attention for the large numbers it attracts. It isn’t unusual for Holly to receive 100 requests for an event that can accommodate 80. In other parts of the country, events typically draw between 15 and 25 people.

Jeremy Appleton ’88 attended an alumni reunions Death Cafe hosted by Holly. He points out that some Buddhist sects contemplate death as a profound spiritual practice.

The more we talk about and reflect on death, the less we are afraid of it, Jeremy says, but he finds this easier to do in the company of others. Listening to the myriad perspectives at a Death Cafe can induce a taboo-breaking exhilaration.

“As long as I fear death, I am not living life to its fullest,” Jeremy says. “By attending a Death Cafe, actively contemplating death, and making its reality more fully conscious, I endeavor to overcome my fear.”

Holly likens the experience to chatting with a stranger during a layover at an airport. Intimacy is easy when you don’t have to worry about any consequences.

“From my experience, I find it real and intimate that people are able to connect around this common humanity,” Holly says.

“It’s not necessary to have expectations about that going further.”

“We live in an amnesiac culture with very little connection to our lineage and what came before us,” Holly says. “There’s no sense that there’s a future to be tended by making our stories available so that others might study them. Our stories show we matter and made an impact—that there was a space we occupied and the shape of that space can still be acknowledged.”

At a PDX Death Cafe picnic, people were invited to come early to complete a checklist of activities preparing them for death.

They were asked to think about how they would like to die, in what surroundings, and with which people present. One man stalls in his progress and a facilitator approaches to ask if she can help.

“I’m still not certain that I’ll ever come face-to-face with the Grim Reaper,” he jests.

“I’ll give you better than even odds that you will,” she smiles.

Go Further For more information about PDX Death Cafe, see www.facebook.com/PdxDeathCafe.

December 2014 Reed magazine 31

Brain Wave Psych majors dive into the mind-bending world of sensory substitution.

BY CHRIS LYDGATE ’90

SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME. The Reed team created 80 simple geometric shapes and transformed them into sounds.

clayton cotterell

DO YOU READ ME? Orestis Papaioannou ’15, Chris Graulty ’15, and Phoebe Bauer ’15 probe the brain’s ability to extract visual information from the auditory channel in Reed’s SCALP Lab.

Orestis Papaioannou ’15 takes a cotton swab, pokes it through a hole in a mesh-fabric cap and gently massages a dab of saline gel into the scalp of his experimental subject, an English major named Dan. As he adjusts the electrodes in the cap, Orestis—who sports a neatly-trimmed beard, flip-flops, and a t-shirt proclaiming “Life of the Mind”—runs through the experimental protocol. “We’re going to show you some shapes and play some sounds at the same time,” he explains. “You’re going to learn how to translate sounds back into shapes.”

Dan takes a sip of black-tea lemonade, settles himself in a chair, and dons a pair of headphones while Orestis and Chris Graulty ’15 huddle around a computer monitor that displays the subject’s brainwaves, which roll across the screen in a series of undulations, jumping in unison when the subject blinks.

The students are investigating the brain’s ability to take information from one perceptual realm, such as sound, and transfer it to another, such as vision. This phenomenon—known as sensory substitution— might seem like a mere scientific curiosity.

But in fact, it holds enormous potential for helping people overcome sensory deficits

and has profound implications for our ideas about what perception really is.

We’re sitting in Reed’s Sensation, Cognition, Attention, Language, and Perception Lab— known as the SCALP Lab—and this time I’m the subject. My mouth is dry and my palms sweaty. Orestis does his best to help me relax. “Don’t worry,” he smiles. “It’s a very simple task.” Orestis is going to show me some shapes on the computer screen and play some sounds through the headphones.

For the first hour, each shape will be paired with a sound. Then he will play me some new sounds, and my job will be to guess which shapes they go with. I enter the soundproof booth, sit down at the keyboard, slip on the headphones, and click “start.”

The first shapes look like the letters of an alien alphabet. Here’s a zero squeezed between a pair of reverse guillemets. At the same time, panning left to right, I hear a peculiar sound, like R2-D2 being strangled by a length of barbed wire. Next comes an elongated U with isosceles arms: I hear a mourning dove flying across Tokyo on NyQuil. Now a triplet of triangles howl like a swarm of

mutant crickets swimming underwater.

To call the sounds perplexing would be a monumental understatement. They are sonic gibberish, as incomprehensible as Beethoven played backwards. But after an hour listening to the sounds and watching the shapes march past on the screen, something peculiar starts to happen. The sounds start to take on a sort of character. The caw of a demented parrot as a dump truck slams on the brakes?

Strange as it seems, there’s something, well, squiggly about that sound. A marimba struck by a pair of beer bottles? I’m not sure why, but it’s squareish.

Now the experiment begins in earnest.

I hear a sound; my job is to select which of five images fits it best. First comes a cuckoo clock tumbling downstairs—is that a square plus some squiggles or the symbol for mercury? The seconds tick away. I guess—wrong.

On to the next sound: a buzz saw cutting through three sheets of galvanized tin. Was it the rocketship? Yes, weirdly, it was. And so it goes. After an hour, my forehead is slick with sweat and concentration. It feels like listening to my seven-year-old son read aloud—listening to him stumble over the same word again and again, except that now

December 2014 Reed magazine 33

Brain Wave I’m the one who’s stumbling blindly through this Euclidean cacophony. And yet (swarm of crickets, three triangles) my guesses are slowly getting better. Something strange is happening to my brain. The sounds are making sense.

I am learning to hear shapes.

The interlocking problems of sensation and perception have fascinated philosophers for thousands of years. Democritus argued that there was only one sense—touch—and that all the others were modified forms of it (vision, for example, being caused by the physical impact of invisible particles upon

even an area that specializes in recognizing faces—if that part of the brain is injured by a bullet, for example, the subject will lose the ability to recognize a face, even his own.

But the Aristotelian notion that the senses are distinct and independent, like TV channels, each with its own “audience” sitting on a couch somewhere in the brain, is deeply flawed, according to Professor Enriqueta Canseco-Gonzalez [psychology 1992–].

For starters, it fails to account for the fact that our sense of taste is largely dependent on our sense of smell (try eating a cantaloupe with a stuffy nose). More important, it doesn’t explain why people with sensory deficits are often able to compensate for their loss through sensory substitution— recruiting one sensory system as a stand-in

tom humphrey

cate whitcomb

MIND-BENDERS. Prof. Canseco-Gonzalez (left) and Prof. Pitts (right) explain the how and why of neuroplasticity.

“ We are rethinking how the brain is wired.”

—Prof. Enriqueta Canseco-Gonzalez

the eye). Plato contended that there were many senses, including sight, smell, heat, cold, pleasure, pain, and fear. Aristotle, in De Anima, argued that there were exactly five senses—a doctrine that has dominated Western thought on the subject ever since.

In Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, for example, the Parson speaks of the “fyve wittes” of “sighte, herynge, smellynge, savorynge, and touchynge.” Even today, a cursory internet search yields scores of websites designed to teach children about the five senses.

The five-sense theory got a boost from psychological research that mapped the senses to specific regions of the brain. We now know, for example, that visual processing takes place primarily in the occipital lobe, with particular sub-regions responsible for detecting motion, color, and shape. There’s

34 Reed magazine December 2014

for another. The Braille system, for example, relies on a person’s ability to use their fingers to “read” a series of dots embossed on a page.

In addition, psychologists and neuroscientists have identified several senses that Aristotle didn’t count, such as the sense of balance (the vestibular system) and the sense of proprioception, which tells you where your arms and legs are without you having to look.

In truth, says Prof. Canseco-Gonzalez, our senses are more like shortwave radio stations whose signals drift into each other, sometimes amplifying, sometimes interfering. They experience metaphorical slippage.

This sensory crosstalk is reflected in expressions that use words from one modality to describe phenomena in another. We sing the blues, level icy stares, make salty comments, do fuzzy math, wear hot pink, and complain

that the movie left a bad taste in the mouth. It also crops up in the intriguing neurological condition known as synesthesia, when certain stimuli provoke sensations in more than one sensory channel. (Vladimir Nabokov, for example, associated each letter of the alphabet with a different color.)

Canseco-Gonzalez speaks in a warm voice with a Spanish accent. She grew up in Mexico City, earned a BA in psychology and an MA in psychobiology from the National Autonomous University of Mexico, and a PhD from Brandeis for her dissertation on lexical access. Fluent in English, Spanish, Portuguese, and Russian, she has authored a score of papers on cognitive neuroscience and is now focusing on neuroplasticity—the brain’s ability to rewire itself in response to a change in its occupant’s environment, behavior, or injury.

She also knows something about psychological resilience from personal experience.

She was working in Mexico City as a grad student in 1985 when a magnitude 8.1 earthquake occurred off the coast of Michoacán, crumbling her apartment building and killing more than 600 of her neighbors. At least 10,000 people died in the disaster.

To demonstrate another example of sensory substitution, she gets up from her desk, stands behind me, and traces a pattern across my back with her finger. “Maybe you played this game as a child,” she says. “What letter am I writing?” Although I am reasonably well acquainted with the letters of the alphabet, it is surprisingly difficult to identify them as they are traced across my back. (I guess “R”—it was actually an “A.”) Incredibly, this game formed the basis for a striking breakthrough in 1969, when neuroscientist Paul Bach-y-Rita utilized sensory substitution to help congenitally blind subjects detect letters. He used a stationary TV camera to transmit signals to a special chair with a matrix of four hundred vibrating plates that rested against the subject’s back. When the camera was pointed at an “X,” the system activated the plates in the shape of an “X.” Subjects learned to read the letter through the tactile sensation on their backs—essentially using the sense of touch as a substitute for the sense of vision.

Bach-y-Rita’s experiments—crude as they may seem today—paved the way for a host of new approaches to helping people overcome sensory deficits. But this line of research also poses fundamental questions about perception. Do the subjects simply feel the letters

clayton cotterell

How it Works: Shapes to Sounds The system used at Reed relies on the Meijer algorithm, developed by Dutch engineer Peter Meijer in 1992 to translate images into sounds. The vertical dimension of the image is coded into frequencies between 500 Hz-5000 Hz, where higher spatial position corresponds to higher pitch. The horizontal dimension is coded into a 500-ms left-toright panning effect. The resulting sound—in theory—includes all the information contained in the image, but is meaningless to the untrained ear. See (and hear) examples at www.reed.edu/reed_magazine.

QUICK AS A WINK. Subjects learned to hear the shapes after as little as two hours of training.

or do they actually “see” the letters?

This problem echoes a question posed

by Irish philosopher William Molyneux to John Locke in 1688. Suppose a person blind from birth has the ability to distinguish a cube from a sphere by sense of touch.

Suddenly and miraculously, she regains her sight. Would she be able to tell which was the cube and which the sphere simply by looking at them?

The philosophical stakes were high and the question provoked fierce debate. Locke and other empiricist philosophers argued that the senses of vision and feeling are independent, and that only through experience could a person learn to associate the “round” feel of a sphere with its “round” appearance.

Rationalists, on the other hand, contended that there was a logical correspondence between the sphere’s essence and its appearance—and that a person who grasped its essence could identify it by reasoning and observation.

(Recent evidence suggests that Locke was right—about this, at least. In 2011, a study published in Nature Neuroscience reported that five congenitally blind individuals who had their sight surgically restored were not, in fact, able to match Lego shapes by sight immediately after their operation. After five days, however, their performance improved dramatically.)

On a practical level, sensory substitution raises fundamental questions about the way the brain works. Is it something that only people with sensory deficits can learn? What

about adults? What about people with brain damage?

As faster computers made sensory-substitution technology increasingly accessible, Canseco-Gonzalez realized that she could explore these issues at Reed. “I thought to myself, these are good questions for Reed students,” she says. “This is a great way to study how the brain functions. We are rethinking how the brain is wired.”

She found an intellectual partner in Prof.

Michael Pitts [psychology 2011–], who obtained a BA in psych from University of New Hampshire, an MS and a PhD from Colorado State, and worked as a postdoc in the neuroscience department at UC San Diego before coming to Reed. Together with Orestis, Chris, and Phoebe Bauer ’15, they bounced around ideas to investigate. The Reed students decided to tackle a deceptively simply question. Can ordinary people be taught how to do sensory substitution?

To answer this, they constructed a threepart experiment. In the first phase, they exposed subjects to the strange shapes and sounds and monitored their brainwaves. In the second phase, they taught subjects to associate particular shapes with particular sounds, and tested their subjects’ ability to match them up. They also tested subjects’ ability to match sounds they had never heard with shapes they had never seen. Finally, they repeated the first phase to see if the training had any effect on the subjects’ brainwaves.

“I was skeptical at first,” Prof. Pitts admits.

“I didn’t really think it was going to work.”

The trials took place over the summers of 2013 and 2014, and the preliminary results are striking. After just two hours of training, subjects were able to match new sounds correctly as much as 80% of the time. “That’s a phenomenal finding,” says Pitts. What’s more, the Reed team found that the two-hour training had far-reaching effects. Subjects who were given the test a year later still retained some ability to match sounds to shapes.

Just as significant, the subjects’ brainwaves demonstrated a different pattern after the training, suggesting that the shape-processing part of the brain was being activated—even though the information they were processing came in through their headphones.

“Here is the punch line,” says CansecoGonzalez. “There is a part of the brain that processes shapes. Usually this is in the form of vision or touch. But if you give it sound, it still can extract information.”

The results—which the Reed team hopes to publish next year—suggest that the brain’s perceptual circuits are wired not so much by sense as by task. Some tasks, such as the ability to recognize shapes, are so important to human survival that the brain can actually rewire itself so as to accomplish them.

Does this mean people can really hear shapes and see sounds, or does it mean that the difference between seeing and hearing is fuzzier than we like to think? Either way, the experiment suggests that the brain retains the astonishing property of neuroplasticity well into middle-age—and that we are only beginning to grasp its potential.

December 2014 Reed magazine 35

Reediana

Books, films, and music by Reedies Want to see your creation listed herre? Email us text and high-resolution images to reed.magazine@reed.edu.

Mary Barnard, American Imagist

By Sarah Barnsley ’95

(State University of New York Press, 2013).

Mary Barnard ’32 is justly known as the preëminent translator of Sappho, but seldom has she been properly appreciated as a poet in her own right. Sarah Barnsley wants to change that.

Contending that Barnard has too long been a footnote to more familiar names in American modernism, she aims to “fully investigate the character of Barnard’s poetry and lift the footnote to the center of the page in the story of American modernism.” She makes the case that the devotion to lyricism, natural speech, and telling detail that made Barnard’s translation so powerful also places her centrally among the ranks of American Imagists. Barnard’s poetry was informed by a combination of her study of Greek at Reed, her austere upbringing in the Pacific Northwest, including time spent

in “spare, desolate spaces” along the Long Beach Peninsula and the sawmills she visited with her lumberman father, and the influence of the modernist poets—including Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot and H.D.—whose work she first encountered in a creative writing class taught by Prof. Lloyd Reynolds [English & art, 1929–69].

Imagism took modernism a step further in its emphasis on compression and minimalism, simplicity and restraint. Sarah, a lecturer in the Department of English and Comparative Literature at Goldsmiths, University of London, explains that “spare plainness” also was a hallmark of Sappho’s poetry. Although Pound and other Imagists had modeled work on Sapphic fragments, it was Barnard who combined plainspokenness,

musicality, and movement in a way that made Sappho accessible to a modern American audience in her acclaimed 1958 volume Sappho: A New Translation (which has been in print continuously since, selling more than 100,000 copies). Barnard’s experiments with Greek metrics led her to come up with what she called “weighted syllables” and “balanced lines” to create a new, natural rhythm for American verse, in much the way that William Carlos Williams, who became Barnard’s close friend and champion, landed on the “variable foot” in his quest for a voice “in the American grain.” Barnard and Williams shared what Sarah calls “a desire for an American poetry based on the gritty specificity of lived reality,” equally manifest along Barnard’s deserted beach at Ocean Park, Washington, or Williams’ industrial Paterson, New Jersey. —KAREN PATE ’79

Grass, Soil, Hope: A Journey through Carbon Country Courtney White ’82 (chelsea green publishing, 2014).

This disarming book delves into a notion that is scientifically sound, but not nearly well enough recognized: that some of the excess carbon wreaking havoc in our atmosphere can be absorbed and stored in soil.

In plain-spoken language, Courtney White—a former archaeologist and the founder of the nonprofit Quivira Coalition— introduces the methods through which the essential road to land health can take place, from managing livestock to improve soil quality, to wetland and watershed restoration, 36 Reed magazine December 2014

to urban agriculture and more.

Alternating between deeply informative chapters and case studies, he brings to life the people and projects that prove that we really can save the planet—if we have the resolve. This is a book of profound optimism, laced with a rare combination of science, philosophy, humor, and joy.

I had little knowledge of carbon and its implications before reading his book. But since reading it I have begun to develop what Courtney calls “land literacy”: the ability not only to recognize

depleted land, but to visualize how it can be salvaged and coaxed to store more carbon.

The book’s power derives from his grasp of the subject, his gift for lucid explanation, and his zest for ideas and people. His visits to successful projects include France (solar panels installed above crops), New York (green rooftops), New Orleans (pumping wastewater into wetlands to improve land quality), and Australia (growing crops in pastures).

Courtney also leads you into the formation of the universe and the journey of a carbon molecule into the soil—a great wild ride.

—NADINE FIEDLER ’89

The Science of Perception and Memory: A Pragmatic Guide for the Justice System

By Prof. Dan Reisberg (Oxford University Press, 2014). instances in which our memories can be false, incomplete or fallible. But there are also times when a witness’s credibility can be strengthened by scientific research. If you’ve never been an eyewitness but now wonder about the memory of that conversation you had with your friend last week, worry not.

“Human perception is generally accurate (and, in fact, rather precise),” Reisberg writes. “Likewise, human memory is, in general, relatively complete, long-lasting, and correct.”

The Oregon Supreme Court recently overhauled the state’s standards for eyewitness identification and granted a new trial to a man convicted of murder on the basis of a faulty eyewitness identification. The justices’ ruling relied, in part, on testimony from Reisberg, who frequently serves as an expert witness on perception, memory, and the ability of a witness to correctly remember events, faces, and conversations.

Reisberg worries that the legal system’s adversarial nature may cause some

darryl james

Eyewitness testimony is the bedrock of the American justice system. When a witness picks a suspect out of a line-up or points to a defendant in a courtroom and says, “He did it,” the jury is duly impressed.

But our memories are anything but airtight. They are vague, porous, plastic, and fallible. Sometimes, without realizing it, we are capable of manufacturing false ones—a finding with dramatic implications for the courtroom.

Prof. Dan Reisberg’s [psychology 1986–] book begins with an introduction to science and research psychology, including a discussion of the admissibility of scientific research and expert witnesses. The subsequent chapters are divided by topics such as perception, memory, confessions, understanding the difference between lies and false memories, and children’s memories, with a particular focus on how children remember and report abuse.

Reisberg’s intent is not to invalidate the importance of eyewitness testimony. Throughout, he argues there are many

to receive his book with skepticism, but he hopes “that everyone in the justice system wants to maximize the quality of the information being considered and to seek ways of distinguishing good information from bad.”

—AMANDA WALDROUPE ’07

Oblivion Madison Stewart ’10 (Genre: Hip-Hop; Released: 2014) In the music video for “Who Knows,” a standout track from his debut album Oblivion, Madison Stewart walks into an empty club to the melancholy chords of a jazz piano. He wastes no time jumping up onto a table, and with the snap of his fingers the beat drops in. From that point on, it’s hard to turn away. Madison (who performs under the stage name Madison LST) raps with a flow that is paced and poised.

His voice has gravelly lows but rises with the rhythm and tempo of the beat. He raps with the eloquence that one would expect from a Reed English major, but if it is sometimes cerebral, it is never nerdy. The result is a positive, uplifting album that walks the razor’s

edge between confidence and the message, and I want to say something that’s worth memorizing.” and arrogance.

Madison wrote “Who Knows,” which taps “I try to share a narrative of a whole-hearted belief in into the universal feeling of being lost, over a your passion in the face of long period of time, crafting a message that what I feel can be harsh he knew he himself needed to hear: realities,” said Madison, who wrote his thesis on The Realize that you’re done with dejection Autobiography of Malcolm X don’t maintain a connection with Prof. Pancho Savery to the thing that’s got you stressing.

[English 1995–].

Let the music soothe you and remove you Oblivion demonstrates from the situation that your grief got you glued to. impressive range, from the alarm-clock vibrancy of “Coming Up” to the introspecThe “LST” of his stage name stands for tive questioning of “RainCheck,” but is devoid “light skin trouble”— a reference to his idenof the violence and misogyny that has come tity struggles as a mixed youth growing up to characterize so much hip-hop. “I pick my in Los Angeles, where he was told both that words carefully, and I know that I have an he was too black and too light. Based on this opportunity to speak to a lot of people,” said album, it seems fair to say that his critics will Madison. “People internalize songs, the words pale by comparison. —BEN WILLIAMS ’14 December 2014 Reed magazine 37

Reediana

The Zen of Fulbright: The Unofficial Guide to Making the Most of Your U.S. Fulbright Scholarship Thomas Burns ’98 (Don Davis Publishing, 2014) The Zen of Fulbright is extraordinarily well researched and presents a comprehensive overview of the Fulbright program—an impressive feat in that the Fulbright program is offered with slightly different parameters in each of the 150 countries in which it is active and is notoriously difficult to describe. This guide, by Thomas Burns, showcases collections of quotes providing a range of voices, perspectives, and experiences—which sometimes are contradictory, but by disagreeing, demonstrate the range of experiences that the program can encompass.

In his guide, Burns delivers on its subtitle, addressing every aspect of the Fulbright from the application to the experience of going back home afterwards. The first half of the guide provides an overview of the program,

discussions of what makes successful candidates and applications, and how the application process works. Burns then addresses predeparture considerations, how to get the most out of the program while on the ground, and how to handle the challenges of returning home. The appendix offers a collection of sample application essays that prospective applicants can use as models.

Extraordinarily helpful as a how-to guide, it might have been useful to publish this guide as two separate volumes. The first half of the guide, while very valuable to the applicant, will represent dead weight for the scholar during the program, but it will be a lost opportunity if participants do not bring the guide with them, as it can continue to serve as a helpful resource during and after the program.

Of the many quotes in the guide, the one that I plan to post on the wall of my office is attributed to Wayne Gretzky: “You will always miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take.” With this, Burns reminds us that you can’t succeed without first taking the risk of trying—a lesson that can be applied both to the initial application itself as well as the daily experience of the program.

—MICHELLE JOHNSON

fellowships adviser in the Center for Life beyond Reed

Public Memory in Early China Prof. Ken Brashier (Harvard University Asia Center, 2014).

In early imperial China, the dead were remembered by stereotyping them, by relating them to the existing public memory, and not by vaunting what made each person individually distinct and extraordinary in his or her lifetime. Postmortem remembrance, a process of pouring new ancestors into prefabricated molds or stamping them with rigid cookie cutters, is examined by Prof. Ken Brashier in Public Memory in Early China. He treats three definitive parameters of identity—name, age, and kinship—as ways of negotiating a person’s relative position within the collective consciousness, and examines both the tangible and intangible media responsible for keeping that defined identity welded into the infrastructure of Han public memory. This is the second of two books, Brashier has

38 Reed magazine December 2014

written for the Harvard-Yenching Institute Monograph Series.

Book one, Ancestral Memory in Early China, was published by the Harvard University Asia Center and received the Levenson Prize honorable mention in 2011, ranking it the second-best scholarly work on pre-1900 China and best among all works on early/medieval China in that year. “It is an astoundingly powerful and erudite study that also makes for an enjoyable reading experience,” reports Carla Nappi, who interviewed Brashier in 2012 (bit.ly/1DdK3sK) for the New Books in East Asian Studies site. Ancestral ritual in early China was an orchestrated dance between what was present (the offerings and the living) and what was absent (the ancestors). In

this volume, Prof. Brashier provides a history of the early Chinese ancestral cult, particularly its cognitive aspects. Ancestor worship was an idea system that aroused serious debates about the nature of postmortem existence, he says. It served as the religious backbone to Confucianism and may even have been the forerunner of Daoist and Buddhist meditation practices. —REEDIE ANNA

Reediana American Justice on Trial: People v. Newton, by Robert Richter ’51. Robert’s latest documentary takes as its subject the unconventional 1968 murder trial of Huey P. Newton, cofounder of the Black Panther Party. The trial coincided with one of the most destabilized times in U.S. history, related to military involvement in and social protest of the Vietnam War, riots in Newark, Harlem, Detroit, and Watts, the assassinations of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Kennedy, and issues of racial profiling and the right to a fair trial. The film includes footage of the late Fay Abrahams Stender ’53, who played a “backbone” role in the trial as second chair for civil rights attorney Charles Garry, and who became a prominent attorney in her own right. People v. Newton left its imprint, in particular, on the practice of criminal defense law and the approach to jury selection.

“Momento Mori: In Honor of the Work and Life of Professor Antonio T. de Nicolás,” by Tom Harris ’55 (Antonio T. de Nicolás: Poet of Eternal Return, Sriyogi Publications & Nalanda International, 2014).

Tom’s essay is included in the newly published collection by editor Christopher Key Chapple, which surveys the groundbreaking work of Antonio de Nicolás in the fields of Indian philosophy, musicology, educational theory, and comparative literature. Chapple states in his foreword, “Reece Thomas Harris weaves a wonderful essay drawing upon Gilgamesh, John of the Cross, and Plato to suggest that much of the poetic can be learned from strangers in our midst.”

The Reign of Ivan the Terrible,

by Geoff Baldwin ’62, translator (Nast, deBrutus & Shortt, 2014). Ivan IV, the first ruler to be crowned tsar of all the Russians, was also the most notorious tsar, Geoff notes. “His long, erratic reign decimated the aristocracy and gave birth to a large and powerful centralized state. Over the centuries, Russians have come to revere him for his achievement and have largely forgotten his immense cruelties.”

This is the second volume of Nicholas Karamzin’s 12-volume History of the Russian State, which Geoff has translated. Karamzin [1766–1826], a writer, poet, and critic, served as historiographer on the Russian court and wrote his History over a span of 23 years. Learn more about Geoff’s project at his publishing site www.nastdebrutusandshortt. com/p/home.html.

38 Reed magazine December 2014

“Charlie,” by Sibylle Hechtel ’72 (Alpinist, summer 2014). Sibylle shared her own memories of American mountaineer and climate change scientist Charlie Porter, who died in February 2014, in a magazine feature that also can be read at www.alpinist.com.

Tanglecove: 30 New Canadian Fiddle Tunes, by Dan Rubin ’68 (First Person Press, 2013).

Dan’s small press published three books in 2013, for which he served as author and editor. The first, is a collection of original airs, marches, schottisches, waltzes, jigs, reels, and freilachs, which is available as a book and CD and as an instrumental album. A second book, Pouch Cove: Our Home by the Sea, is a local history compilation. Finally, A Fire on the Sea is a vivid adventure story set 100 years into the future on the north Pacific coast. In this, his first novel, believable characters confront fantastic elements, such as travel by sailing ship and communication with whales. (See Class Notes.)

Living in the Shadow of the Cross: Understanding and Resisting the Power and Privilege of Christian Hegemony,

by Paul Kivel ’69 (New Society Publishers, 2013).

Over the centuries, Christianity has accomplished much that is deserving of praise. Its institutions have fed the hungry, sheltered the homeless, and advocated for the poor. Christian faith has sustained people through crisis and inspired many to work for social justice. The actual story, according to Paul, is much more complex. Over the last two millennia, ruling elites have used Christian institutions and values to control those less privileged throughout the world. Living in the Shadow of the Cross reveals the ongoing, everyday impact of Christian power and privilege on our beliefs, behaviors, and public policy, and emphasizes the potential for people to come together to resist domination and build and sustain communities of justice and peace. (See Class Notes.)

“Portland’s Jews Celebrate Century of Sephardic Heritage: From Izmir to the Pacific Northwest,”

by Marty Rosenberg ’71 (Jewish Daily Forward, August 8, 2014). In this piece, available for reading at forward.com, Marty takes in his experience of Portland, including details about Reed and a quote from Prof. Laura Leibman [English 1995–].

He now resides in Overland Park, Kansas.

Little Bit: A “Different” Cat Story, by Thomas Owen ’73 (2014). Learn more about the shape-changing alien Little Bit, who is cast adrift on Earth and challenged by all the issues related to his new feline form. Thomas says he was inspired to write a book about cats based on the many he has known, and the book also grew out of his concern for his aging cat, Buster. “Little Bit takes awhile to get the hang of cat food and bowls of milk,” says Thomas, though Buster does not have the same problem.

There also are no black helicopters and military units searching for Buster, as they are for Little Bit. Purchase a copy of the book from Thomas via email (writethomas49@gmail.com) or Amazon.

Proceeds from book sales will provide medicatfunds for Buster.

Buildings of Vermont,

by Curtis Johnson ’76, coauthor and photographer (University of Virginia Press, 2014).

Curtis contributed both images and text to this volume in the Buildings of the United States Series of the Society of Architectural Historians, which showcases the remarkable range, quality, humanity, and persistence of a most appealing built landscape. Curtis and Glenn Andres, who teaches art and architecture history at Middlebury College, spent 20 years doing research for the project. They chose 643 notable examples out of the 40,000 listed in state and national Registers of Historic Places, and wrote descriptive text for each entry, accompanying the text with Curtis’ black and white photography. Examples include Federal and Greek Revival meetinghouses, early Gothic Revival churches, Victorian inns, Italianate and panel brick business rows, woodframed general stores, robber-baron estates, and hippie houses, as well as early water-powered mills, large railroad and factory complexes with nearby workers’ housing, summer camps, roadside cabins, and ski resorts. Writes one reviewer, “The scope of the book—from pre-statehood through today, inclusive of the entire state and every extant style and type of building—makes it the first of its kind.” Curits is a professional photographer and the editor of The Historic Architecture of Addison County and The Historic Architecture of Rutland County.

(See Class Notes.)

To Be Near the Fire: Demonic Possession, Risk Analysis, and Jesus’ War on Satan, by Roger Busse ’78 (Wipf and Stock, 2014). How does risk analysis figure into the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth? Scholars agree that Jesus practiced exorcism, an illicit activity in the Roman world, and suggest that his reasons for doing so may have been to demonstrate compassion for the demon-possessed. As a 39-year veteran of risk analysis and a graduate of Harvard Divinity School, Roger believes that individuals engage in risky ventures only when not doing so would pose even greater risks. What was the greater risk for Jesus? If he failed to drive off the demons that infested his land, already suffering under foreign occupation, then the forces of darkness might win out. Roger’s findings suggest that there is a core tradition surrounding Jesus’ activity that is reliable and recoverable through risk analysis. He reassesses the gospel traditions and provides an approach that recovers the specific charismatic practices, sayings, and parables that Jesus employed in his deliberate and dangerous strategy.

I Only Read It for the Cartoons: The New Yorker’s Most Brilliantly Twisted Artists, by Richard Gehr ’78 (New Harvest, 2014). In his new book, Richard successfully tackles the careers of New Yorker cartoon superstars Gahan Wilson, Sam Gross, Roz Chast, Lee Lorenz, and Edward Koren. He also provides a brief history of the New Yorker cartoon and touches on the lives and work of cartoonists Charles Addams, James Thurber, and William Steig. Says one reviewer, “We are in enormous debt to Richard Gehr for tracking these artists down; for charming them, disarming them, and translating their lives and work into wise and elegant prose.” Richard has been writing about music, books, film, and television for more than two decades.

The Chemistry of Alchemy: From Dragon’s Blood to Donkey Dung, How Chemistry Was Forged, by Cathy Chaney Cobb ’81, coauthor (Prometheus Books, 2014). Cathy describes her newest book as a combination of history and chemistry, because it is a collection of reenactments of alchemical processes that can be performed safely with generally available materials, accompanied by biographies of the alchemists who performed them. “Both light and enlightening reading,” the book offers the

chemist’s perspective in nontechnical language.

In addition, Cathy and her coauthors recreated experiments and provide instructions for athome alchemy. (See Class Notes.)

Night of the Victorian Dead (Book One: Welcome to Romero Park), by Amber Michelle Cook ’92 (Unchangeling Press, 2014). Downton Abbey meets the undead. It’s Gothic/paranormal historical fiction, or as Amber likes to call it “a genteel period piece slowly and unwillingly realizing it’s in Night of the Living Dead.” Among the green and rolling hills of Old England, the fields lie ripe for reaping under a blighted Harvest Moon. Mr. Dorchester invites several families of his acquaintance to his estate for a visit culminating in a ball to celebrate his ward’s engagement to a most eligible neighbor. Unwitting attendees are too busy striving to hide secrets and make matches to see what’s going on around them until it’s almost too late . . .

against the police, transcripts of speeches that have not previously appeared in print, and article reprints. Individual chapters examine topics such as the relationship between violence and legitimacy and the tension between demands for accountability and the struggle for abolition. They relate current events to historical patterns and local occurrences (especially those in Portland) to national trends. Illustrating the text are photographs by Portland photojournalist Bette Lee. The Work of Recognition: Caribbean Colombia and the Postemancipation Struggle for Citizenship, by Jason McGraw ’97 (University of North Carolina Press, 2014).

Jason’s book presents the compelling story of postemancipation Colombia from the liberation of the slaves in the 1850s through the country’s first general labor strikes in the 1910s. Ending slavery fostered a new sense of citizenship, one shaped both by a model of universal rights and by the particular freedom struggles of African-descended people.

Colombia’s Caribbean coast was at the center of these transformations, in which women and men of color, the region’s majority population, increasingly asserted the freedom to control their working conditions, fight in civil wars, and express their religious beliefs. Jason is associate professor of history at Indiana University.

Goodhouse: A Novel, by Peyton Marshall ’96 (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, September 2014).

Peyton explores questions of identity and free will—and what it means to test the limits of human endurance— in her first novel, based in part on the true story of the former Preston School of Industry—the oldest and most recognized reform school in the U.S. The story is set at the end of the 21st century in a transformed America, where sons of convicted felons are tested for a set of genetic markers, and those who test positive become compulsory wards of the state, raised on Goodhouse campuses in order to reform their darkest thoughts and impulses. Reviewers praise highly what they call a haunting dystopian novel, strikingly original, and written in perfectly calibrated prose. “A smart, literate thriller set in a foreseeable future, where genetic profiling is meant to prevent crime but becomes—instead—a terrifying tool for oppression, discrimination, and violence. It’s a ripping good read,” says author Katherine Dunn ’69.

Words Like Rainfall, by Jessica Gerhardt ’11 (Genre: Pop, Indie, Rock; Released: 2014). Staying true to her post-Reed dreams of pursuing music, Jessica released her debut EP with her band Feronia. Available on iTunes, Bandcamp, and Spotify, the album was produced

by Patrick Doyle and features three original songs and one Talking Heads cover as a tribute to her favorite band and her beloved Reed memories of “Stop Making Sense” dance parties. Check out www. feroniamusic.com.

Fire the Cops! by Kristian Williams ’96 (Kersplebedeb Publishing, 2014).

This collection includes articles on policing that Kristian has written over the past 10 years, following the publication of his book Our Enemies in Blue: Police and Power in America.

Fire the Cops! includes a new essay that looks back at his experience writing about and organizing

U.S. Hard, by Santi Leyba ’14 (Genre: Techno; Released: 2014). U.S. Hard is Santi’s debut EP (www. xlr8r.com/mp3/2014/08/junk). The three-track EP unrolls an array of sharpened percussion hits atop an overdriven techno base, said to pull from his past work in post-hardcore, noise, and drone outfits. A related interview, “Stream U.S. Hard’s Self-Titled EP,” appeared at IMPOSE magazine on August 21, 2014. In the interview, Santi reported that he was returning to his hometown, Albuquerque, New Mexico, to do some research for some paintings and to take time to get some serious work done.

Santi and his Hausu bandmembers, Benjamin Friars-Funkhouser ’14, Carl Hedman ’13, and Alexander Maguire ’14, received acclaim in 2013 for their debut album, Total.

December 2014 Reed magazine 39

In Memoriam The Henry Ford of Higher Ed

50 Reed magazine December 2014

jeff noble

John Sperling ’48, a professor-turned-entrepreneur who revolutionized the field of adult education, died in San Francisco on August 22, 2014, at the age of 93. Over the course of his life, he played many roles—sharecropper’s son, gas station attendant, merchant seaman, union organizer, author, and billionaire—but was best known for founding the University of Phoenix, which tapped into the demand among working adults for education that was accessible, practical, and relevant to their careers. He was, as President Steven Koblik [1992–2001] once said, “the Henry Ford of higher education.”

Born the youngest of six children to an impoverished family of sharecroppers, John spent his first years in a log cabin near the Ozark hamlet of Freedom House, Missouri.

Looking back, he came to view his poverty as a gift. “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,” goes the Kris Kristofferson song “Me and Bobby McGee.” Invoking those lyrics, John remarked, “That’s the freedom that comes to those who, like me, embark on life with nowhere to go but up.”

John was both the apple of his mother’s eye and his father’s favorite whipping boy. At the age of 10 he warned his dad, “If you ever hit me again I will kill you in your sleep.” The beatings stopped, and five years later his father died in his sleep.

“I could hardly contain my joy,” he wrote in his autobiography Rebel with a Cause. “I raced outside, rolled in the grass squealing with delight . . . I realized that this was the happiest day of my life. It still is.”

His childhood was also marked by pneumonia, horrible burns, and—though he was quite verbal—an inability to read. John couldn’t connect the words on the page to their meaning, but was able to memorize long passages to “read” aloud in class. That didn’t save him from being the object of his classmates’ derision.

After his father died, John moved with his mother to Oregon and attended Portland’s Washington High School. When he graduated from high school in 1939, he joined the U.S. Merchant Marine, taking a job with the Matson freighter line. He saw the world and developed a sense of history “as seen through the eyes of the seafaring proletariat.” When a shipmate taught him to read, John’s life was transformed.

The billionaire entrepreneur would recollect: “I have learned more about how to conduct my business affairs from such novels as Tom Jones, Emma, Notes from the Underground, The Red and

John Sperling gambled his life’s savings on a radical venture that became the University of Phoenix.

the Black, Death Comes for the Archbishop, and The Great Gatsby than I ever have from reading a business book.”

In 1941, he got a job in a filling station and enrolled at San Francisco City College, where he excelled in math and physics. When Pearl Harbor was bombed in December, he moved back to Portland and enlisted in the navy air corps. While waiting to be called up, he took a job in a shipyard and enrolled at Reed. Before the semester was out, however, he was called up for preflight training. He finished the training, transferred to the army air corps, returned to Portland, and enrolled at Reed for the second time, only to be called up again for basic training.

In January 1943, he married his Reed College sweetheart and went off to war. When he finally mustered out of the service, he returned to

Reed for two of the hardest years in his young adult life.

In 1946, Reed saw an influx of battle-weary vets coming to college thanks to the GI Bill.

Seasoned beyond their years, they wore their fatigues to class and engaged in intellectual combat with their classmates. Mason Gaffney ’48 remembers John from those years.

“We seemed to have little in common,” Mason says. “He was a scruffy, unkempt guy with tousled, curly hair and half-baked radical opinions that permitted little questioning or dialogue— the joys of Reed.”

John wrote his thesis with Prof. Richard H. Jones [history 1941–86], examining the liberal ideology that followed the overthrow of the French king Charles X in 1830 and continued through the Revolution of 1848, which marked

the creation of the Second Republic.

Drawing upon his experiences, John forged a new ideological identity—that of an intellectual dedicated to improving the condition of the working class.

John enrolled at University of California, Berkeley, divorced his first wife, and married his second, Virginia. “Compared with Reed,” he said, “Berkeley was a cakewalk when it came to class work.”

He earned an MA in history and won a scholarship at King’s College at the University of Cambridge, where he completed his doctorate on English financial history. In 1960, after teaching history at Ohio State University, the University of Maryland, and Northern Illinois University, John became a professor at San Jose State University, where he taught history, became a union leader, and led a faculty strike (which collapsed). During this time his son, Peter, was born; he also divorced Virginia and met Joan Hawthorne, who would become his lifelong companion.

In the early ’70s, John won a government contract to develop course work for teachers and police officers working with at-risk children. The adult students were eager to take more classes and earn degrees, and Sperling proposed that such offerings not only made sense—they could be profitable. But administrators at San Jose weren’t interested.

At the age of 53, the radical professor took $26,000 worth of hard-earned savings and established what would become the Institute for Professional Development (IPD), a private organization offering the outcomes of a traditional, campus-based education, but delivered at times and places—and in a format—desirable to adults.

“In 1970, a working adult wanting to pursue a degree was offered courses designed for kids just out of high school, taught by professors who considered it their job to deliver the subject matter in lectures scheduled for two or three nights

per week,” John stated. “With great persistence, an adult learner could expect to earn a degree in 6 to 10 years.”

IPD contracted with several colleges to provide adult education and soon attracted the ire of traditionalists, who denounced it as a “diploma mill.”

Particularly controversial were the concepts of untenured faculty composed of working professionals who taught at night what they worked at

“ We violated much that was sacred in the groves of academe.”

—John Sperling ’48 during the day, programs developed with employers, and standardized courses with specific learning objectives taught the same way each time the course was offered.

“We violated much that was sacred in the groves of academe,” John said.

In 1976, John moved his operation to Arizona and launched the University of Phoenix, destined to become the nation’s largest private university, offering undergraduate and graduate degree programs at more than 100 locations. When the parent company, Apollo Group, went public in 1994, he became a billionaire. At its peak, the University of Phoenix boasted an enrollment of nearly 600,000 students, and few could deny that his vision had transformed higher education, particularly distance learning.

By the turn of the century, however, the University of Phoenix attracted mounting criticism that it was more concerned with profit than student success. In 2004 the U.S. Department of Education fined the university $9.8 million for using excessive pressure tactics to increase student enrollment. The DOE charged that the

institution provided substantial incentives to recruit unqualified students who could not benefit from its programs and that it operated in a duplicitous manner to evade detection. The University of Phoenix agreed to pay the fine without admitting any wrongdoing.

By then, John had relinquished day-to-day oversight of the venture and focused his energy on longstanding interests such as cloning, health and longevity research, marriage equality, and marijuana legalization.

John also gave generously to Reed. He made a gift of $1 million to build the Educational Technology Center and established an endowment for new technology. He established the Sperling Studentship to support Reed graduates in the pursuit of a three-year doctoral degree at the University of Cambridge. He was a generous and reliable donor to the Annual Fund. And he bequeathed $2.5 million to Reed in his will.

“Reed was a life-defining experience from which I have not fully recovered,” John said. “Of course, I never wanted to fully recover.”

Speaking at Reed in 1997, he praised the college for its commitment to free speech and as an open market for ideas, no matter how outrageous. He predicted that Reed would always thrive. “[Reed] protects its reputation for excellence, which is its franchise, by restricting enrollment to the junior members of the meritocracy,” he said. “This exclusivity is why students seek admission. In carrying out its mission, Reed serves society by strengthening the American meritocracy . . . Its power in socializing its students and the affection it engenders in its graduates insures the future of Reed College.”

John is survived by his son, Peter; his daughter-in-law, Stephanie; two grandchildren, Max and Eve; his former wife Virginia; and his longtime companion Joan Hawthorne.

—Randall S. Barton

Chemistry’s Catalyst Reed College lost a cherished colleague and great friend when Prof.

Margret Geselbracht [chemistry 1993–2014] passed away on September 11, 2014, after a long and hard-fought struggle against lymphoma.

Maggie joined the Reed community in January 1993, delaying her transfer from Wisconsin to Reed by one semester so that she could extend her postdoc and stay close to her future husband, Tom Armstrong. A child of Peoria, Illinois, and a graduate of Notre Dame, Maggie moved to Berkeley to start graduate school. While there (or, more precisely, while

on the top deck of a ferry heading to Alaska) she met Tom, fell in love, and realized she would have a more harmonious marriage if she found employment somewhere along the West Coast. As luck would have it, Prof. Alan Shusterman wrote to Arthur Ellis, Maggie’s postdoctoral adviser, informing him that Reed was looking for an inorganic chemist.

The ad was passed to Maggie, and the rest fell into place.

Maggie’s arrival at Reed was significant in many ways. Most importantly, Reed hired an exceptional researcher and a committed educator. She arrived at Reed having just published a

text that showed how to link materials science to the general chemistry curriculum, the first text of its kind. Of equal significance, she joined our six-person department as the only female chemist, and ultimately became the first woman ever to be tenured in our department. She took her position as a role model seriously and became a leader in highlighting the achievements of female scientists and spurring discussions on issues related to being a woman in a field that has long been dominated by men. It is no accident that 20 years later, our department has graduated two successive classes that are majority women and that she helped recruit other outstanding women to our faculty.

Maggie’s contributions within the chemistry December 2014 Reed magazine 51

department can never be fully enumerated.

Inheriting Prof. Tom Dunne’s mantle as our inorganic chemist, she adopted his commitment to an intense workload in the pursuit of spreading her love of inorganic chemistry. She was dedicated to introducing students to her specialty in their second year, and also to providing an upper-level course so that students could see the discipline in fuller flower. Over the years, she developed Chem 212 to include more lab and lecture content, while applying a suite of experiments that introduce students to a wide array of topics across the discipline. By plugging both courses into the IONiC/VIPEr network, her pedagogical repertoire grew as her own innovations spread.

In general chemistry, Maggie energetically embraced the module approach to teaching and led her partners in that course in creating a firstsemester introduction to chemistry that is uniquely effective at acting as an introduction to the discipline for majors and nonmajors alike. Chem 101 was her vision of why one pursues chemistry, asking students to develop a molecular view of their surroundings by tackling topics drawn from the universe (the composition of stars), the environment (climate change), and our diet (trans-fats), and giving students the theoretical and practical experience to more fully appreciate the natural and human-influenced world. Maggie’s greatest delight was turning humanities majors on to chemistry, as they discovered a previously untapped enthusiasm for science. Students will know her through this course for many years to come.

As a researcher, Maggie brought numerous Reedies under her wing to explore the wealth of chemistry associated with solid-state materials, particularly high-temperature superconductors.

She was the first Reed professor to be awarded an NSF CAREER grant, supporting her work in layered perovskites containing mixed-valence metallic species. Never one to rest on just one idea, she led her students into investigations of solid acids, aerogels, and the SHArK project for photochemical energy conversion. Her research consistently sought to make practical advancements through a stronger understanding of solids.

Students working in Maggie’s lab had the opportunity to see the scientific world more broadly than many of their peers, thanks to her commitment to supporting student presentations at national meetings of the American Chemical Society. Those presentations were typically made within the division of inorganic chemistry, rather than undergraduate research, putting students in the mix with leaders in the field. Reedies would routinely return from these meetings flushed with the excitement of having met so-and-so on the conference floor or in a local bar, the first evidence that they were genuinely part of an international community of like-minded scientists.

Maggie had an important and boisterous “family” of inorganic chemists supporting her from 52 Reed magazine December 2014

leah nash

In Memoriam

One of Prof. Maggie Geselbracht’s greatest delights was turning humanities maj0rs on to chemistry.

afar, and she built new and interlocking elective families throughout her life and career, including students, alumni, and colleagues in the chemistry department and across campus. Of course, the most important family was the one she started with Tom. Her sons Kieran and Zach stood at the center of her life, and they connected her in myriad ways to others in the community. As she fought the cancer that reappeared in 2007, we saw each of these families step forward with their physical and emotional support, fully committed to letting Maggie know how important she was to each of them.

Maggie shone as brightly in her many other passions. A talented pianist, she thrilled at getting an instrument at home, and music was often playing in her office, with Christmas carols starting in late October. As part of a talented couple in the kitchen, she and Tom introduced many of us to the glories of Cook’s Illustrated and the Silver Palate, while also setting up a store of fine wines that contributed to the quality of those meals. Her birthday cakes for her boys became the stuff of legend, as it seemed that each one was intended to top the one before. Serious conversation could be had about achieving exactly the right coloring for a fondant to top a Timbers-themed cake, and upon the architectural potential of doughnuts.

She became a committed geocacher, using any spare moment to track down a new cache with her beloved dogs, first Bailey and then Cassie.

Maggie also left a great creative legacy. She was an exceptional quilter and illustrated many of the challenges and triumphs of her fight with cancer through her work.

Maggie didn’t ever seem to do things the easy way; she did things the way she thought they should be done. When she had 150 Chem 101 exams to grade, she still wrote a three-hour exam, with problems, with partial credit, and

with a very careful reading of the answers— even if it took her most of break to grade. When she went on sabbatical at Oxford for a year, her whole family went with her, and she gave birth to Kieran there in March 2000. (Notably, Zach was born during her junior sabbatical; Maggie was a planner.) She took the whole family to D.C. in 2006 to work on battery materials at the Naval Research Laboratory. It wasn’t easy; aspects of it were intimidating, sometimes she wanted to (and did) cry, but she picked up and did it—just like the way she fought her illness.

Maggie died almost exactly one year after her last classroom appearance, in which she delivered one of her favorite lectures, asking Chem 101 students to think about how an electron, with its particle-like qualities, is capable of crossing boundaries where there is no probability of its existence. She loved the conundrum of it—the sheer strangeness of a natural world that we tend to take for granted.

It is at moments like these, when we lose a close and dear friend too soon, that we feel the capriciousness of nature. But as Maggie would remind us, it’s a chance to dig deeper and learn more.

Reed has lost one of its great treasures, but we are far from having lost the gifts she gave us.

Maggie’s energy, her enthusiasm, and her everpresent smile will live in our memories and her contributions to the pursuit of chemistry will live in our curriculum for many years to come.

—Prof. Gerri Ondrizek [art]; Prof. Julie Fry, Prof. Arthur Glasfeld, and Prof. Alan Shusterman [chemistry]; Prof. Wally Englert [classics]; Prof. Libby Drumm [Spanish]; and Prof. Kim Clausing [economics]

Maggie’s family has launched an initiative to create the Professor Maggie Geselbracht Women in Chemistry Scholarship to support female chemists at Reed. Please lend your support at reed.edu/ givingtoreed/profmaggie.

Honor a Reedie We encourage readers to post memories of fallen Reed classmates, professors, staff, and friends on our In Memoriam site at www. reed.edu/reed_magazine. Or you can email us at reed.magazine@reed.edu or do things the old fashioned way with an envelope addressed to Reed magazine, 3203 SE Woodstock Blvd, Portland OR 97202.

Rachel Olive Riches Gordon ’43 December 5, 2013, in Atlanta, Georgia.

The daughter of Oregon pioneers, Rachel followed cousins Naomi Riches ’17, Hermione Riches ’23, and Cromwell Riches ’25 to Reed.

She earned a BA in sociology during three years of study at the college, and though she moved from the state, her Riches family ties drew her back to Oregon for many reunions, and she did have the opportunity to attend her 50th class reunion at Reed. Rachel met Robert L. Gordon while he was serving in the army. They married in 1943 and were together until his death in 1982. They made a home in Richmond, Virginia, where he worked as a nursing home administrator, and they raised their children, Robert and M’Ellen. Rachel was a generous donor to Reed and a community volunteer in all places she lived. She moved to Georgia to be nearer to her daughter, who survives her, as do her son and a nephew. “She was a one-of-a-kind person and will be greatly missed.”

Robert Mountz Noel ’48 July 20, 2014, in Oregon.

Bob served as a B-25 bomber pilot during Wo r l d Wa r I I a n d earned a BA from Reed in economics. He married Nancy Edwards Strong in 1946 and they had four children, living in Lake Grove and on a small ranch in Tualatin.

He had a diverse and lengthy career in the lumber industry, traveling extensively across the U.S. and Canada as a lumber broker and sawmill machinery designer, and he took pride in his ability to memorize all of his contacts and their phone numbers. “He was highly respected for his honesty, integrity, intelligence, and ability to communicate with people from all walks of life.” Bob was a member of many community organizations, including the Portland City Club, the Ski Patrol, and 4-H. He enjoyed gardening and time spent with his horses and dogs. He loved his family and was happily retired for 15 years with Nancy on Puget Island on the

Columbia River before they moved to a home in Tigard. Survivors include his wife, two sons, two grandsons, and one great-grandson. He was predeceased by his daughter and one son.

Bertram Gale Dick ’50 July 18, 2014, in Salt Lake City, Utah.

A physicist and conservationist who played a key role in saving Utah’s Wasatch Mountains from development, Gale grew up in north Portland, an hour away from Reed by trolley.

His grandparents had homesteaded in the Blue Mountains of eastern Oregon, and his mother and his father met on a stagecoach. Gale graduated from Roosevelt High School in 1944 and served in the U.S. Navy during World War II, including a spell in the jungle interior of Guam.

“I’d often thought, if I’d been born a year earlier, I might not have survived the war,” he told Cricket Parmalee ’67 in an interview in 2007.

At 19, on a naval transport bound for Hawaii, Gale decided that he would become a physicist.

After the war, Reed offered him a scholarship and he enrolled as a day-dodger for his first year.

“Portland has a wonderful, wonderful library, and I remember spending a lot of time there when I was in high school. I got all interested in astronomy, and I looked at all these books. Some of them, some of the better ones, were full of mathematical symbols, and I thought, ‘Ooh, this is magical! There must be something profoundly and mystically right about anything that’s expressed in such beautiful symbols.’ I wanted to know how to read those books, and that was what I learned how to do.”

Gale was also interested in music. His first violin teacher was an itinerant music salesman.

He progressed rapidly in his studies and became a member of Portland’s Junior Symphony. “This was the love affair of my life, to get involved in that kind of music, which I didn’t even know existed.” Prof. Herb Gladstone [music 1946– 80] taught him to play the piano, and he performed in Sound Experiments and in Gilbert and Sullivan productions. Gale and his classmates often sang after dinner in commons.

While mopping and sweeping the floors of Eliot Hall on Herr Robert Brunner’s weekend janitor crew, Gale and other students sang—“especially in the lavatories, because they have wonderful acoustics.” This experience carried over to the 50th class reunion, when the classmates gathered and old songs resurfaced, one after another. (Years later, Gale played violin in various chamber music groups and helped found the Chamber Music Society of Salt Lake City.)

As a veteran of war, Gale felt a sense of urgency and a “tremendous striving” to make the right choices and to take advantage of all that the college offered. Other veterans attending Reed had served with the 10th Mountain Division and were experienced mountaineers and knew how to ski. “Here were all the rest of us who had never skied, had never climbed a mountain,

Gale Dick specialized in condensed matter theory.

and so on, and they said, ‘Come with us. We’ll show you how to do this stuff.’ As it turned out, I just loved this, and couldn’t get enough of it.” On the slopes, he met a science major named Ann Volkmann [’50], a record-setting skier from Vermont. They married in 1956. He formed many lifetime friendships at Reed, and traveled with Dick Ivey ’50 to Nepal, accompanied by their sons.

During his sophomore year, Gale roomed with Mark L. Woodbury ’50, Martin L. Murie ’50, and Mark E. Knoell ’52 and was elected class president. The only duty assigned to that position by “some sort of obscure tradition,” he said, was to be captured at an unexpected moment. “I was watching out for it, and I was being chased around the campus.” He asked infirmary nurse Martha Hale Scherer [1946–49] for refuge and she suggested he climb out on the roof. “I was spotted by the people who were trying to capture me, and then—I would never dream of trying to do it today—I jumped off the roof—didn’t hurt myself—and ran as fast as I could, which wasn’t fast enough.” His captors drove him east of Portland, removed his pants, and left him to find his way back to campus.

Gale studied with Prof. A.A. Knowlton [physics 1915–48], Prof. Ray Ellickson [physics 1946–48], and he wrote his thesis, “Thermal Neutron Induced Radioactivity in Samples of Natural Tin and Tin Enriched in Sn¹²⁴,” with Prof.

Leo Seren [physics 1948–50]. “I don’t think I ever would have understood that the academic life was the one that was going to fit me as a person unless I’d had that experience at Reed.

It pushed me on my way. I hadn’t realized how many things I was interested in, or could be interested in.” In his senior year, he was chosen to be a Rhodes Scholar, and after his selection was announced he returned to his room in Winch. “A whole bunch of my friends and other students came, and—I just thought about this the other day. It still touches me—they sang.

They serenaded me. It was lovely.” The four years at Reed cast the longest shadow of almost any experience in his life, he later said.

Gale studied at Oxford University for three years and earned a PhD at Cornell University, with a postdoctoral fellowship at the University of Illinois, Urbana. He joined the University of Utah’s physics faculty in 1959, where he specialized in condensed matter theory, writing some December 2014 Reed magazine 53

In Memoriam

James Buford MacQueen ’52

50 papers. He also taught more than 20 different courses at all levels, from freshman to advanced graduate, until retiring in 1998. Honors for teaching included the Frederick William Reynolds Lecturer, Outstanding Physics Teaching Award, Distinguished Teaching Award, and Fulbright and NSF grants. “I became a very good teacher, and I think part of that had to do with my experience at Reed.” His memories of Reed’s humanities courses inspired him to create a course at Utah titled “Intellectual Traditions of the West,” which explored 2,500 years of intellectual and scientific history.

In 1972, he cofounded Save Our Canyons, establishing the conservation group with a bumper sticker, a pamphlet, and a plan for a Lone Peak Wilderness. Today, the conservation group is credited with the establishment of three wilderness areas in the central Wasatch and 3,000 members. Gale’s work grew out of his many years spent hiking, camping, and skiing with Anne and their children in the Cascades, the Wasatch, the Wind River Range, the Tetons, the Alps, and the Himalayas. In 2013, the League of Women Voters recognized his “indefatigable efforts” to protect the wildness and beauty of the Wasatch mountains, canyons, and foothills. He also received the Pa Parry Award, the Alexis Kelner Conservation Award, the Pfeifferhorn Conservation Leadership Award, and the Norma Matheson Outstanding Volunteer Award. Salt Lake City mayor Ben McAdams called Gale a community treasure. “He is an intelligent, informed, and ethical advocate for the preservation of a precious natural asset.

Gale is a wonderful example of how public engagement helps achieve outcomes that benefit our entire community.”

Responding to Gale’s death, Carl Fisher, executive director of Save Our Canyons, remarked: “Gale Dick was so many things to so many people. He touched thousands of lives throughout our community. For Gale, the adventure of Save Our Canyons started and ended with bulldozers atop Hidden Peak. He loved the mountains surrounding our community and he organized Save Our Canyons in effort to elevate the voice of others in the region about the importance of the Wasatch Mountains, and worked tirelessly to defend them. Not only did he love the mountains, he dearly loved the community they support: the people, the plants and animals, the history, the powder, the place.” The Deseret News reported, “Gale will be remembered for his generous spirit, his boundless energy, intellect, and curiosity, his unquenchable laugh, his effortless happiness, and his ability to instill these characteristics in those fortunate enough to spend time with him.”

Survivors include Anne; their children, Timothy, Robin, and Stephen; seven grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.

Jim served in the U.S. Army occupation of Japan when he was just out of high school and entered the University of Wyoming to study engineering. He transferred to Reed in his junior year, pleased to have avoided the rigors of the firstyear humanities program, and earned a BA in psychology. Throughout his life, he expressed gratitude for the G.I. Bill.

After Reed, he entered a doctoral program in psychology at the University of Oregon, where he earned a PhD in 1958. On a postgraduate fellowship from NIH, he studied at UC Berkeley, with Edward Chase Tolman as his sponsor. He then accepted a research position at UCLA and soon thereafter joined the faculty of UCLA’s Graduate School of Management. When asked, he usually said he taught applied mathematics, which included game theory, probability, and problem solving. As a matter of principle, he always gave his students As. However, it was in providing fresh ideas for problems in search of solutions that Jim excelled. His research focused on providing mathematical formulations of human processes. In his first paper, he investigated a large class of optimal stopping problems, spawning a large area of research. He was also a pioneer in the development of “K-means,” a method of detecting clusters in multivariate data, derivations of which are used in many other fields, from genetic research to computer visualization.

During his tenure at UCLA, Jim spent leaves and sabbaticals at Stanford, Berkeley, Carnegie Mellon, and the University of Oslo. He retired in 1999. Friends, colleagues, and family members remember Jim as outgoing, humble, and always willing to give credit to others. He firmly believed that the results of his research belonged to the public domain. He had an easygoing, even temperament. Above all, he supported and encouraged others to pursue an ambition, a heart’s desire—to go for it! Music was important to him, and Jim always brought a guitar to family gatherings. As a lover of poetry, Jim sought poetry readings in all his travels and was a member of the Santa Clarita Poets Society.

Some remember him as an avid kriegspiel player.

One of his fellow kriegspiel enthusiasts characterized Jim’s strategy as “high risk.” Jim enjoyed the challenges of problems and was often preoccupied by attempts to devise “a better way.”

Jim attended Reed Reunions for many years and was a member of the Los Angeles Reed book group. After he lost his eyesight in 2003, his wife, Anne, became his reader and she also joined the book group. Having grown up in Wyoming at a time (and place) when log cabins with sod roofs had not yet disappeared, Jim never forgot the pleasure of life outdoors: he was set loose in the Bighorn Mountains to camp, wander, and fish—and sometimes get lost—and he shared this pleasure with his family.

54 Reed magazine December 2014

July 15, 2014, at home in Santa Monica, California.

Survivors include Anne, daughters Katherine (Kate) and Mary, son Donald, granddaughter Sarah MacQueen ’11, and grandsons Metabrafor, Onome, and Kiemute Agindotan and James MacQueen. Our thanks to Anne and Kate for providing this memorial to Jim.

Miles Lorin Weber ’56 May 30, 2014, in Alameda, California.

Miles grew up in southeast Portland and contracted polio when he was 12, rendering him paraplegic. His mother, Melba Weber, successfully fought Portland Public Schools for him to be educated alongside his peers. After graduating from Cleveland High School, Miles enrolled at Reed in the 3-2 biology–medical school program. He may have been the first student in a wheelchair to attend Reed, and since most of his classes and labs were in Eliot Hall, a building then without an elevator, classmates transported him between floors. During summers, he worked in the lab of Prof. Marsh Cronyn ’40 [chemistry 1952–89]. According to Prof. Cronyn, Miles challenged fellow students to a race down the stairs of Eliot on at least one occasion.

After Reed, Miles entered the University of Oregon Medical School. Because he was unable to gain access to the upstairs library, classmates brought materials to him. Once when he required noncirculating reference materials, which were stored on the upper floors, a willing, unnamed student secretly utilized a dumbwaiter to lift Miles to the locations. Following medical school, Miles married and did a psychiatric residency at Langley Porter Neuropsychiatric Hospital at UC San Francisco. He remained in the Bay Area for his career, making his home in the East Bay. Miles had a passion for planes and flying, and he owned a succession of hand-controlled small planes. He enjoyed a rich, evolving career in psychiatry that ended only when he contracted pneumonia a month before his death. Survivors include three children, Geoffrey, Lorise, and Jonathan, and nieces Melinda Jackson (married to Jim Jackson ’70) and Lauren Dillard, who all miss him profoundly. Our thanks to Melinda for providing this memorial to Miles.

Karen June Baumann Osterlund ’57

August 4, 2014, while on a cruise to Alaska, with her daughters beside her.

Karen was the eldest of five children born to Franz Baumann ’35 and his wife, Barbara.

She spent two years at Reed and married Erik Osterlund; they raised four sons and two daughters in San Bruno, California. She also was married to Bob Marshall, who predeceased her. Karen was a certified travel consultant and a 25-year volunteer for La Leche League.

“Although I’m not doing anything of noted significance, nor have I accumulated fancy letters

to put after my name,” she wrote, “I’m so thankful for my years at Reed College and the many friends that shared my life at that time.” In retirement, she lived in Reno, Nevada, and enjoyed travels abroad and in the U.S., along with visits to her extended family. Karen’s final residence was in Millbrae, California, where she was close to her family. Survivors include her children, 21 grandchildren, and 2 great-grandchildren.

Charlotte Russell McCalley MAT ’65

May 24, 2013, in Riverside, California.

A graduate of Washington College in chemistry in 1941, Charlotte came to Reed for the master’s in teaching program, supported by an NSF grant, and focused her study on mathematics.

She was married to Laurence E. McCalley and had two sons.

Stanley James Allen ’66

August 23, 2013, in Seattle.

Stanley was at Reed for two years in the ’50s and two in the ’60s, leading to a BA in economics. He worked as a systems analyst and also operated his own business, Allen Associates, and enjoyed hiking, backpacking, cosmology, photography, the fine arts, and time with his family. Survivors include a daughter, three sons, and two sisters.

Stanley and Bette Barber ’47, who was a data analyst at Boeing, were married in later years.

Mary Elma Yeomans ’66

October 28, 2012, in Newport Beach, California.

Mary studied at Reed for a little more than two years.

Christopher Hunter Brown ’91

August 31, 2011, in Portland.

Chris earned a BA in economics, writing a thesis with Prof. Jeffrey Summers [1987–92], and was a financial adviser for Ameriprise in Portland.

Laura Kathleen Padilla ’96 March 16, 2014, in Colorado Springs, Colorado, from complications related to cancer.

Laura came to Reed with her twin sister, Sara Padilla ’96, and earned a BA from Reed in English literature, writing the thesis “The Dissolution of the Conspiracy: Virginia Woolf’s Between the Acts” with Prof. Tom Gillcrist [English 1962–2001]. She went on to receive an MA from Pennsylvania State University and a PhD from the University of Texas, Austin, in English literature. Her dissertation was Land of Enchantment, Land of Mi Chante: Four Arguments in 20th Century New Mexican Literature. She wrote about the literature of her native New Mexico with “penetrating insight, unsparing honesty, and trenchant wit.” Her students at Colorado College, where she began her teaching career in 2006, remember her exacting scholarship and caring presence. She taught

a variety of courses, including literary theory, Mexican American literature, and Native American literature. Laura noted, “My work examines the ways in which 20th-century New Mexico Hispanos engaged with the images produced of them by modernist writers in Taos and Sante Fe.” Despite the physical strain resulting from cancer treatment, Laura persevered in her goals and was dedicated to her students and colleagues. She made presentations for academic programs and seminars and was at work on a book manuscript, “Land of Enchantment, Land of Mi Chante.” She contributed to the Race and Ethnic Studies Program and the Southwest Studies Program and also served on the student writing and minority concerns committee. “Padilla offered clarity and insight into critical, and sometimes difficult, diversity issues, teaching in a gentle, light-hearted way,” said Colorado College chaplain Bruce Corriell.

“Laura’s light and soulful presence will be deeply missed.” Prof. Gail Berkeley Sherman [English 1981–] wrote: “Last fall, she reminisced about how proud she had felt when she succeeded in her classes at Reed. We can be proud of the impact she had on many students at Colorado College and in the larger academic community. Laura had been struggling with cancer for the last 11 years. Her death is a tragic loss of a young scholar-teacher.”

Survivors include her husband, Peter Haney, whom she married in 2006; her parents, Eligio and Kathleen Padilla; her sisters Sara, Amy, and Lisa; and extended family members—many living near Bernalillo, New Mexico, where her family has resided for more than 300 years.

Memorial donations for Laura may be made to Breast Cancer Action or the National Mill Dog Rescue.

Staff, Faculty, and Friends

Susan Fillin-Yeh, Director and Curator, Cooley Gallery [1991–2001]

June 9, 2014, in New York, of complications from cancer.

Susan Fillin-Yeh earned her PhD in art history from CUNY and taught art history at Brown, Hunter College, and Yale before coming to Reed to direct the Douglas F. Cooley Memorial

Cooley Gallery Director Susan Fillin-Yeh in 1992, with Assistant Director Silas Cook.

Art Gallery. During her vibrant career, she won fellowships from the Andrew Mellon, Smithsonian, and Fulbright foundations.

She brought many distinctive exhibitions to the Cooley Gallery, including Documenting a Myth: The South as Seen by Three Women Photographers: Chansonetta Stanley Emmons, Doris Ulmann, Bayard Wootten, 1910–1940; Sniper’s Nest; Art That Has Lived with Lucy R. Lippard; Modotti/Weston: Mexicanidad; a Sol LeWitt retrospective; and Modern Art in America, which she created as a complement to the art history course she taught at Reed in spring 1996.

Fillin-Yeh served as cocurator for a retrospective exhibition on the works of Lucinda Parker ’66 at the Portland Art Museum (PAM) in 1995, which included a catalog; and she collaborated on a Hilda Morris retrospective at PAM in 2006 (both on the exhibition and on a comprehensive catalog). These projects were important contributions to regional curatorial work beyond the scope of her work for the college. Her regular production of catalogs throughout her tenure was especially notable, as was her prolific writing on academic topics she was passionate about. Her published books include Dandies: Fashion and Finesse in Art and Culture; Charles Sheeler: American Interiors; Sunlight, Solitude, Democracy, Home: Photographs by Robert Adams; Hilda Morris; and John Sloan’s New York.

December 2014 Reed magazine 55

In Memoriam She was a “feminist fashionista” and an outspoken advocate for women’s rights and women artists. Her grace and determination during the 20 years she battled cancer were an inspiration, and she had a “contagious sense of delight.”

Stephanie Sakellaris Snyder ’91, John and Anne Hauberg director and curator of the Cooley Gallery [2002–], recalls her first meeting with Susan. “It was 1991, shortly after the Cooley opened. I was a student at Reed, and just beginning an internship at the Cooley. Susan breezed into the museum wearing a bright red miniskirt, black stiletto heels, and patterned stockings, and proceeded to offer me a detailed and revelatory exegesis on the work of KitYin Snyder, who was exhibiting at the time. I was awestruck by her passion, understanding, and style. Susan was a dynamic, powerful, and brilliant woman. Energy and intelligence radiated from her, and she offered it generously to those that she worked with, both on and off of campus.”

Prof. Peter Parshall [art history 1971– 2000] remarks, “Among the highlights of Susan’s tenure as the director were the many instances of collaboration across fields. A watershed experience for me was an exquisite installation of minimalist works selected by Prof.

Michael Knutson [art 1982–] and accompanied one night by a concert of minimalist music in the gallery where students and faculty sat around, many on the floor, as these two discrete forces played over one another. Such occasions were common under her leadership, and in small ways they changed people’s lives.” On the occasion of Fillin-Yeh’s retirement, Prof.

Peter Steinberger [political science 1977–], then acting president, noted, “Under her tutelage the gallery has become an important part of the Reed community and the Portland art community.” Fillin-Yeh was married to biophysicist Jen Yeh and they had one daughter, Kate.

“Susan set a remarkable example at Reed, and it is an honor to be her successor at the Cooley,” says Stephanie. “May her spirit live on always.”

dance, and theatre productions in the U.S., France, Germany, Hungary, and Mexico. She enjoyed working with physical performers and the tribal nature of clothing, and she was a nominee for a Henry Hewes Design Award. In an interview with the Brooklyn Rail in December 2011, Prof. Schlachtmeyer said, “When faced with a script, my first question is the same question a director or any other theatre artist would ask, which is where this piece lives: in the head or the heart, in the tragedy or black comedy, in social satire or in empathy?”

Schlachtmeyer earned degrees from Brown University and the Tisch School of the Arts and taught classes in design at Fordham University; she designed for several universities, colleges, and graduate programs. She joined the Reed theatre faculty in 2012 as an assistant professor and was instrumental in the revamping of the costume-design program. She contributed her insight and expertise in theatre design, the history of clothing, and costume design to the curriculum and to designing spaces in the Performing Arts Building. Survivors include her husband, composer Jonathan Newman; their daughter Amelia; parents Sandra and Al Schlachtmeyer; and sister Laura.

In remembrance, her family suggests

donations to the Melissa Schlachtmeyer Fund for Design at the Tisch School of the Arts (Attn: Andrew Uriarte, New York University, 721 Broadway FL 12, New York NY 10003; donations payable to New York University; to benefit emerging stage and film designers); Studio 42 (the theatre company closest to her heart and career), 332 Bleecker Street STE E48, New York NY 10014; and the Tucker-Maxon School, 2860 SE Holgate Boulevard, Portland OR 97202 (to benefit the remarkable school for hearingimpaired and typically learning children, where her daughter, now 7, has been safe, happy, and thriving for 2 years).

Pending

As Reed went to press, we learned of the deaths of the following people: Margaret Wakefield Tator ’34, Mollie Schnitzer Levin ’35, Ross Coppock ’42, Charles Deeks ’43, William Warner ’47, Jennie Dehls Davis ’52, Richard Thompson ’52, Stanley Oleson ’54, Robert Gillespie ’55, Terry Chase ’59, Gerry Stone ’65, Mary Jo Summers Gettmann ’66, Larry Kunkel ’70, Beverly Lipsitz ’72, Diane Mark-Walker ’81, Kathryn Beall Kirk ’82, Ellen Browning ’92, and Jennifer Seminatore ’06.

Share your memories of classmates with us via email (reed.magazine@reed.edu) or post them online at www.reed.edu/reed_magazine/in-memoriam. You can still send them the old fashioned way to Reed magazine, 3203 SE Woodstock Blvd., Portland, Oregon 97202-8199.

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Planned Giving

Melissa Schlachtmeyer, Assistant Professor of Theatre [2012–14]

August 6, 2014, while traveling in Florence, Italy, of complications from cancer.

Prof. Melissa Schlachtmeyer was a beloved and valued teacher, m e n to r, co l l e a g u e , designer, daughter, sister, mother, wife, and friend. She was a broadbased costume designer whose designs were selected for opera , 56 Reed magazine December 2014

THERE’S MORE THAN ONE WAY TO SUPPORT THE PLACE YOU LOVE. Wondering about a gift of real estate or stock?

Call Kathy Saitas at 503/777-7573 to brainstorm creative ways to give to Reed. plannedgiving.reed.edu

Reunions Save the date: June 10–14, 2015 “But even so, what I want and for all my days pine for is to go back to my house and see my day of homecoming.”

— Odysseus to Calypso (Odyssey 5.219-220, tr. Lattimore)

Return. Delight. Indulge. Discover. Reconnect. alumni@reed.edu 503/777-7589 Reed College Reunions 2015 blogs.reed.edu/riffin_griffin

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Periodicals Postage Paid Portland, Oregon

photo by leah nash

STILL WATERS. Bio major Rachel Fox ’15 and environmental science-bio major Claire Brumbaugh-Smith ’15 wade into the Canyon to see how dissolved oxygen affects the habitat of frogs and other amphibians. Their project was supported by the Milton L. Fischer ’86 Memorial Fellowship.