Reed College Magazine September 2013

‰ september 2013

The Canvas and the Clue How Jim Coddington ’73 solved a Jackson Pollock mystery.

shock! horror! Quest turns 100 | Dance of the Nitrogen Ions | What Do You Do with a Reed Degree?

Parent & Family Weekend Friday & Saturday, November 1 & 2, 2013 www.reed.edu/parents/pfw.html

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Features

What do you do with a degree from Reed?

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Statistical insight based on the experience of alumni.

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By Keith Allen ’83

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The Mythbuster

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Historian Ray Raphael ’65, MAT ’68, searches for the truth about America’s founding era.

Departments

by miles bryan ’13

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From the Editor

Coloring Outside the Lines

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Letters

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Eliot Circular

Kathleen Flannigan ’62 rallies the disabled artists’ movement.

Page Turner

Miriam Sontz ’73 takes over Portland’s flagship bookstore.

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By nadine fielder ’89 22

The Clue and the Canvas

How Jim Coddington ’73 solved a Jackson Pollock mystery.

By christian viveros-faune

10 Empire of the Griffin

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What is a Reedie, Anyway?

We asked 12 grads from the class of ’13 to talk about themselves, their theses, and their Reed experience.

By randall s. barton cover photo by Ruth Fremson / The New York Times

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Grads Asked to Fix Dents Our Brilliant Students Our Brilliant Alumni Pink Shoes, Blue Glow Environmental Studies Gain Momentum How a Galaxy Evolves Considering Reed’s Future Chem Major Nabs class of ’21 Award Tangled up in Tango Shock! Horror! Quest Turns 100!

Last Lectures: We Salute Retiring Profs.

By mary o’hara ’12 20

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Connecting Reedies Across the Globe

From your Alumni Board President Alumni at Reunions:Reedfayre ’13

40 Reediana

Books By Reedies

44 Class Notes 56 In Memoriam 64 Apocrypha

Tradition, Myth, Legend

Kollectiv Bargaining: RKSK

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september 2013 Reed magazine

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Letter from the editor charles rhyne

‰ september 2013

www.reed.edu/reed_magazine 3203 SE Woodstock Boulevard, Portland, Oregon 97202 503/777-7591 Volume 92, No. 3 Magazine editor Chris Lydgate ’90 503/777-7596 chris.lydgate@reed.edu class notes editor Laurie Lindquist 503/777-7591 reed.magazine@reed.edu graphic designer Tom Humphrey 503/459-4632 tom.humphrey@reed.edu

Prof. Charles Rhyne’s 1962 photo provided the crucial clue to the mystery of Jackson Pollock’s One: Number 31, 1950.

alumni news editor Robin Tovey ’97

Ariadne’s Thread When Theseus returned from his bittersweet victory over the Minotaur, the Athenians were so overjoyed, according to Plutarch, that they preserved his galley in the harbor so that men would never forget his deeds. Whenever a plank on the ship decayed, the Athenians replaced it with a new, stronger one, which led Plutarch to an interesting philosophical conundrum.

Could the vessel still be called the Ship of Theseus even if none of its original timbers were intact?

This paradox is no idle matter—it hovers over the shoulder of everyone who is entrusted with preserving, restoring, or reproducing a work of art. Does the essence of a painting lie in its pigments and its parchment, in the smudges of its vermilion and the cracks in its canvas? Or is a painting primarily a vehicle for conveying an idea? How far can you touch up a Rembrandt? What happens if you Xerox a Warhol? Is imperfection an essential quality of art?

These are the questions that confronted Jim Coddington ’73 and his team at MoMA as they embarked on the restoration of a monumental canvas by Jackson Pollock. As writer Christian Viveros-Faune explains in our cover story, when the project collided with a million-dollar headache—whether a portion of the canvas had actually been altered by someone else—Jim reached out 2

Reed magazine september 2013

graphic design assistant Kim Durkin ’13

Valiant Interns Sandesh Adhikary ’15, Lauren Cooper ’16

to his Reed mentor, the late Prof. Charles Rhyne [art history 1960–97]. It was Rhyne who supplied the crucial clue.

The word “clue” is particularly fitting in this context, because it comes from the Old English cleowen, meaning a ball of thread or yarn, referring to the thread that Ariadne gave Theseus to guide him through the Labyrinth of Crete.

Sometimes we have the good fortune to meet people who help us thread our way through life’s maze of twisty passages. In my case, I found several influential guides at Reed. Often the most valuable things they gave me were not specific bits of instruction but clues in the Ariadnean sense—principles passed on from professor to student as partners in a collective enterprise.

This atmosphere of intellectual camaraderie is, I think, the direct result of a faculty dedicated to education in its most profound sense—not stockpiling facts but teaching students how to find their way in a world where the planks are always being replaced.

That is one of Reed’s defining characteristics, and the reason why I find the story of the canvas so powerful.

ADVISORY BOARD Diane Morgan ’77, Matt Giraud ’85, Naomi McCoy ’94, Caitlin Baggott ’99 Reed College Relations vice president, college relations Hugh Porter interim director, public affairs Stacey Kim 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.

—Chris Lydgate ’90

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

Let Sleeping Cats Lie . . .

I am disappointed to learn that the canyon is now host to a colony of feral house cats. I am disappointed that some of us, instead of seeking evidence, have swallowed the myth that the approach of “trap, neuter, and release” (TNR) is the only humane way to reduce and eventually eliminate feral cat colonies. We should keep in mind Norman Levitt’s rule: “Lewis Carroll’s Bellman said, ‘What I say three times is true.’

But you should be wary of what I say 43 times, especially if it is always asserted without evidence.” [Ed. Note: Alice includes a brief review of the scientific literature on TNR.] The June 2013 issue of Reed said that coyotes have come to the canyon. I hope they are practicing natural cat control.

—Alice Anderson ’61 Las Cruces, NM

Remembering Professor Arch

I was shocked and devastated to learn of the death of Steve Arch [biology 1972–2012] Ten years ago, Steve welcomed me to Reed as my academic adviser and, although I quickly adopted every possible laid-back Reed tradition, I couldn’t quite call him “Steve.” In my head this imposing figure was always “Dr. Arch.”

He himself finally converted me when I found him wandering Renn Fayre with an enormous handle of vile Wild Turkey bourbon. I came to know this as “Steve’s” own tradition. Steve awed me in his exercise physiology class. He could talk on any subject, and his students enjoyed challenging him as much as he us. I will never forget his favorite final exam question: If you want to get drunk at a party, what do you eat with your beer? The correct answer is, of course, not the pizza, as fatty foods will keep the alcohol in your stomach, where it can be broken down by alcohol dehydrogenase. Eat something low

in fat, was Steve’s advice, so the alcohol will move quickly to your intestines. Steve was one of the many Reed professors who inspired me to go to graduate school, and I was looking forward to sending him a copy of my paper after my defense. Sadly, a month shy, I waited too long to tell Steve what a difference he made in my Reed education and formation as a young scientist. Thank you, Steve.

—Leila Rieder ’06 Providence, Rhode Island

Remembering Jacqueline Kohler Koch ’70

Jackie Kohler and I were in a theatre class together in 1966 when she was a freshman and I was a senior. Seth Ullman [theatre & literature 1959–73] had us do improvisational exercises.

Once we had to go to the Portland Zoo, observe an animal, and then interpret and portray it to the other students. Jackie not only channeled a gazelle, she became one. She was a beautiful young woman. Jackie was elegant, witty, and compassionate, and a brave and daring soul.

—John Cushing ’67 Portland, Oregon

Remembering John Goldsmith ’88

My finest quality time with Johnny Goldsmith comprised a handful of raucous waterborne fourth-of-July weekends in various states of undress and inebriation, ranging from hollering hilarity to quiet contemplative conversation. Johnny could talk about anything, and competently, whether clothed or not. He was the definition of good company with an easy, nonjudgmental manner and quiet charm, but there was so much more to time spent lying about with Johnny Goldsmith. Even lazy, dumb hangover conversations about nothing failed to remain so for long. He brought such depth of knowledge and insight to even the most trivial subject. At his funeral service, old friends lauded that gigantic brain of his, and confessed that at times he would acknowledge the emotional and intellectual toll of carrying around all that knowledge and 50 years of nearly complete recall. Johnny’s acute intellect may have been a burden to him, but it was a joy to trigger.

Johnny Britannica, quick with a hug, warm glint in his eye.

—Benn Lewis ’84 Pound Ridge, New York

They Said I Was a Communist

Chris Lydgate’s absorbing article about the invention of a new sign language by Nicaraguan children is marred by a flawed assumption. He refers to the Sandinista government of Nicaragua as a “Communist regime.” Maybe he picked this up from U.S. government officials, like Ronald Reagan and Jesse Helms, but the Sandinista government was not avowedly Communist, nor was it considered so by informed observers.

Among those observers I include thousands of North American volunteers, such as myself, who went to Nicaragua after the 1979 revolution to share our skills and assist with the sort of humanitarian development that had been so lacking under the Somoza dictatorship. (I worked on a rural solar electrification project, along with comrades of the Portland engineer Ben Linder, who was killed by the Reagan-funded contras.) For us “Sandalistas” and for so many of the Nicaraguans we worked alongside, the greatness of the Sandinista revolution was that its leaders and millions of participants applied the resources of the country to improving the lives of its citizens. It is distressing that some, who are perhaps unfamiliar with the events there, categorize that revolution with the disparaging language used by those who murderously worked to destroy progress in Nicaragua.

—Roger Lippman ’69 Seattle, Washington Yikes! Thanks for sorting the leftists from the rightists.

Editor’s Note.

The Lincoln Brigade

I was pleased with the space you gave Lincoln vet Harry Randall ’37 in the last Reed, but I’m afraid you mixed up his Lincoln vet comrades.

Bill Miller (William Newton Miller) was the only Oregon volunteer killed in Spain, but he was Randall’s roommate off campus, and never a Reedie. Randall recalls that Miller grew up on an Oregon farm and sounds nostalgic about their friendship, shared activities (and housing) in the ’30s, “when we sometimes lived on potatoes and black coffee, and chased odd jobs to pay the $5 we paid monthly for room rent, and often went cold and hungry for lack of a quarter for the gas meter.” Randall had to quit Reed after a year because his parents’ tuition money dried up, but Miller never attended.

—Mike Munk ’56 Portland, Oregon Editor’s Note.

Sorry, we goofed!

september 2013 Reed magazine

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Eliot Circular news from campus

Grads Asked to Fix Dents The call of bagpipes signaled the beginning of Reed’s 99th commencement. Robed and mortared, professors followed the piper down the path from Eliot Hall to the tent on the Great Lawn. And behind them marched the 334 members of the class of ’13, many of whom found distinctive ways to accessorize their caps and gowns.

Roger Perlmutter ’73, chairman of the board of trustees, welcomed parents, graduates, faculty, and friends to a program with musical interludes by Collegium Musicum and the Columbia Brass.

In his introductory remarks, President John Kroger suggested that navigating the arcane requirements for their degrees would undoubtedly be the last straightforward thing the graduates would do in their lives. “From now on,” he said, “everything will be much more complicated. You will get up every morning and face what I take to be the central existential question: What am I supposed to do now?”

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Reed magazine september 2013

Referring to Steve Jobs’ famous quote said, with few quick fixes and incremental about putting a dent in the universe, Kroger change that is often the product of comprosaid: “While it may be important to make mise. She promised the graduates that despite a dent in the universe, it’s probably more the twists and turns that would shape their important to spend part of your life repair- lives, their Reed education, predicated on criting the dents of others . . . While it may be ical thinking, would prove its worth.

Psychology was the most popular major, important to be smart, it is, in my estimation, a lot more important to be kind and with 42 graduates. Other popular majors included biology (33), English (28), physto be thoughtful of others.”

Environmental advocate Jennifer ics (27), economics (19), history (18), anthroFerenstein ’88 delivered the commence- pology (18), chemistry (15), political science ment address. Jennifer is an organizer for (15), mathematics (13), art, and religion (11).

The award for longest interval between the Wilderness Society, working to protect the environment of Montana’s Rocky matriculation and graduation goes to Mountains. She was formerly president of American studies/history major Isabel Eisen ’13, who originally matriculated in 1968— the Sierra Club.

“By the time I finished my master’s in the an astonishing 45 years! Unfortunately, she early ’90s, conflict was the defining feature could not attend the ceremony because she of the environmental movement,” she told was selling her apartment in Copenhagen, the assembled graduates. “‘Love your moth- Denmark, where she has worked as a dancer’ had been supplanted by ‘jobs versus the er and dance teacher.

We congratulate Isabel and all of the gradenvironment.’”

Environmentalism is complicated, she uates of 2013. —Randall S. Barton

Meier Awards Three seniors earned the Gerald M. Meier Award for Distinction in Economics, given to those students whom the economics department recognizes for their outstanding achievement.

Michael Kincaid ’13 wrote an interdisciplinary math-econ thesis, “Is the Euro Optimal? An Examination of Trade and Cycles in Europe.” His advisers were Prof. Kim Clausing [econ 1996–] and Prof. Albyn Jones [math 1986–].

Su Liu ’13 wrote “Schrödinger’s Hat: Decision Making and Uncertainty in Real and Virtual Worlds.” Her adviser was Prof. Jonathan Rork [econ 2010–].

Brian Moore ’13 wrote “All News is Bad News: The Effects of Policy Uncer tainty on Manufactur ing Investment.” His adviser was Prof.

Rork. Brian also served as student body president during his time at Reed.

Lankford Award The William T. Lankford III Humanities Award was established as a tribute to the accomplished scholarship and teaching of Prof. Bill Lankford [English & humanities 1977–83], and is given to a student who demonstrates an interest in the relationship between history and English literature.

This year’s award recipient was Lilliana Paratore ’13 for her thesis “‘This Spirit of the Desert’: On Women’s Narratives of Self, Landscape, and Alterity, 1850– 1903.” Her adviser was Prof. Margot Minardi [history 2007–].

Our Brilliant Alumni Eliot Award Author Barbara Ehrenreich ’63 received the Thomas Lamb Eliot Award for Lifetime Achievement by a Reed Graduate. Ehrenreich majored in physics and chemistry at Reed and wrote her thesis on the electrochemical oscillations of the silicon anode with Prof.

Jean Delord [physics 1950–88]. Since then, she has gone on to do groundbreaking investigative journalism and has authored a multitude of successful books, including the widely acclaimed Nickel and Dimed.

photos by leah nash

Our Brilliant Students

Pink Shoes, Blue Glow Melinda Krahenbuhl, director of the Reed Research Reactor, has become the first woman to chair the National Organization of Test, Research, and Training Reactors (TRTR).

The organization facilitates communication among reactor directors, educators, regulators, administrators, research scientists, and engineers, sharing advances in research and education, operating experience, health and safety, and information technology.

Krahenbuhl has had other firsts. She became the first female reactor operator in her home state of Utah and was in the first wave of women to become reactor supervisors. While working as the director of a reactor for a large chemical company, she was prompted to give the corporate world the boot.

“I was sitting in the control room of the reactor and happened to be wearing a pair of pink shoes,” she recalls. “They were totally appropriate for office wear, closed-toe and closed-heel shoes. My boss came in and reprimanded me for wearing shoes that stood out. If you’re dressed appropriately it shouldn’t matter what color your shoes are. But apparently it did matter in that environment, and so I started looking for a new job.”

She found a fit as the director of Reed’s reactor in 2011 and is passionate about both research reactors and her work here at the college.

“Many women my age were the first woman at something,” she says. “I was lucky to have as mentors men who didn’t have the pink-shoe problem. There are always a few who keep the door open because they’re gender blind. I’m the first woman to chair the TRTR organization, though I’ve been at the door with these men for a very long time. We all came through together, having got our PhD’s about the same time. I feel really lucky that they didn’t close the door just because I was a woman.”

Reed’s TRIGA Mark I reactor was established in 1968 and is licensed to operate at any power up to 250 kW. Within the reactor community Reed enjoys a strong reputation for its training program, Krahenbuhl says. Every year, it trains and licenses 15 new reactor operators—including those who major in art, classics, and linguistics, as well as physics, chemistry, and biology.

Approximately half of the 46 student reactor operators at Reed are women.

While there is no definitive accounting, officials at the Nuclear Regulatory Commission say that Reed licenses many more female operators than any other research reactor in the nation, and that in some years, Reed licenses more female operators than all other research reactors combined.

—Randall S. Barton

september 2013 Reed magazine

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Eliot Circular Environmental Studies Gain Momentum m at t d ’a n n u n z i o

How a Galaxy Evolves

Prof. Keith Karoly [biology 1994–] chairs the environmental studies committee.

Reed’s environmental studies program, launched three years ago, is gaining momentum. The first two majors graduated in May, and so far 15 juniors and seniors have declared ES as their major for the 2013–14 academic year.

Now, thanks to some late gifts to the Centennial Campaign, Reed is poised to fund a new history position within the ES program. The history department may decide to launch the search as early as fall.

The late trustee John Gray made a gift that funded a related position in environmental studies and provided seed funding for this position.

Trustee Dan Greenberg ’62 stepped in with the leading commitment to fund most of the $2.5 million endowment that supports it. The college still seeks additional support of $300,000 to complete funding.

The interdisciplinary ES program combines study in biology, chemistry, economics, history, or political science with work on environmental themes across the natural sciences, history, and social sciences. Five courses of study are offered, each concentrating in a home department with an environmental emphasis.

Majors take the junior qualifying exam in their home department as

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well as a research proposal–based junior qualifying exam evaluated by the environmental studies committee.

In addition to the faculty who were already teaching in related areas, two new positions were funded in chemistry and political science, and both of those positions have been filled. There has been agreement that the program would be most successful with four teaching positions, with the additional two being in history and biology.

With student interest in the new major running strong, the college found short-term funds to hire a two-year visiting professor in environmental history, who is now in his second year.

Keen interest in this area was demonstrated last spring, when celebrated environmental historian Bill Cronon drew crowds for his lectures as Reed’s 2013 Greenberg Scholar. Established with a gift from Dan Greenberg and his wife, Susan Steinhauser, the Greenberg Distinguished Scholar Program brings visiting scholars to campus to stimulate and support the work of students and provide faculty with opportunities for in-depth intellectual exchange with a prominent member in their field.

—Randall S. Barton

Humankind’s view of the cosmos, however magnificent, is fundamentally static. Astrophysicists know that distant astronomical objects (stars, nebulae, galaxies) are in constant motion, but this is invisible to human eyes because it takes place on a timescale which is unimaginably vast. In fact, except for the moon, the planets, and the occasional comet, the night sky has looked essentially the same for the history of civilization.

Recently astrophysicists have used computers to speed things up. For my thesis with Prof. Johnny Powell [physics 1987–], I wrote a computer program to simulate the evolution of a typical spiral galaxy. The central premise is that by calculating the gravitational forces acting on a relatively small number of stars, we can simulate the evolution of a real galaxy, which consists of hundreds of billions of stars.

My simulation involved 20,000 stars in a disk hundreds of thousands of light-years across. After running for a week on a powerful multi-core 3 GHz Apple Mac Pro, the program yielded a six-minute video that represents billions of years of evolution.

(See the video at reed.edu /reed_magazine.)

The result is breathtaking. You’ll see a spiral pattern develop quickly, then slowly fade away, showing that spiral arms can form in an isolated galaxy (one not interacting with other galaxies). To me, the fact that this recognizable pattern emerged in such an artificial simulation is powerful evidence that our quest to understand the motion of galaxies is on the right track. —Noah Muldavin ’13

Considering Reed’s Future

We are always arriving and departing, as Henry Miller observed. “One’s destination is never a place, but rather a new way of looking at things.”

In that spirit, Reed is looking toward the future and working on a strategic plan to answer existential questions such as “What do we want the college to be in 20 years?”

Staff, faculty, trustees, alumni, students, parents, and friends are working collectively to formulate the answers, with the goal of identifying priorities by summer 2014 and designing a plan to implement them by July 2015.

Reed’s last major bout of planning took place in 2004–05, before the launch of the Centennial Campaign. One of the main results was the decision to expand the curriculum to create a new major in environmental studies.

The first conversations about the current plan began in the spring, when alumni

Curriculum.

The arts.

Education beyond the classroom.

Summer and January term.

Student life, health, and well-being.

Financial aid.

Community governance and academic administrative structure.

Research, teaching, and the liberal arts college.

Faculty and staff quality of life.

Size of institution and infrastructure.

In addition to the array of questions that fall loosely into these categories, each working group will consider five “cross-cutting issues” that pertain to every aspect of Reed:

hat is or should be central to Reed’s identity? What W makes it unique? Why should students want to come to Reed, and why should parents want to help them go? and parents discussed Reed’s central issues at events in alumni chapter cities. During Reunions, keynote speaker Eduardo Ochoa ’73, former assistant secretary for postsecondary education and current president of CSU-Monterey Bay, outlined challenges and opportunities for liberal arts colleges— a theme that alumni took up in subsequent panel discussions.

Early this summer the ad hoc ommittee on strategic planning solicited input from faculty, students, staff, and trustees and held two public meetings. Working groups are being established to consider a nexus of topics, such as the following:

Reed’s identity. Do any changes being considered challenge, enhance, or alter any aspects perceived as central to Reed’s identity? What is or should be central to Reed’s identity? What makes it unique? Why should students want to come to Reed, and why should parents want to help them go?

Diversity and inclusion: Do any changes being considered have an impact, positive or negative, on the accessibility or attractiveness of a Reed education to a more diverse student body, or a more diverse community more generally? How can the changes be used to forward the community’s goals regarding diversity and inclusion?

External pressures. How do any changes considered respond to changes or potential changes in the applicant pool; changing expectations on the part of students, parents, and potential employers; the rise of online education; or other external developments that are putting pressure on our educational model?

Technology. How can changes in technology capacity or in the use of technology further any of the changes being considered?

What are the technological requirements, if any, for any of the changes considered?

What impact, if any, will technological changes have on the issues being considered?

Environment and sustainability. How do the changes being considered affect our environmental footprint?

The working groups will submit reports to the president in April 2014; their conclusions and recommendations will be discussed at a retreat for faculty, senior staff, and trustees in June to determine Reed’s major priorities.

Students will be actively involved in oncampus conversations and by participating in working groups and the trustee retreat.

Alumni will receive regular reports on the plan and will have opportunities to engage in the process at major alumni events on campus in the coming year, namely Leadership Summit (Sept. 20 & 21), Working Weekend (Feb. 7–9), and Reunions (June 4–8). In addition, the college has assembled a group of 40, including alumni association leaders, recent graduates, and parents, to submit reports in three areas: financial aid, academic support, and career services. Parent comments will be solicited during Parent and Family Weekend (Nov. 1 & 2). —Randall S. Barton

september 2013 Reed magazine

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Eliot Circular

Tangled up in Tango

The effect of nitrogen dioxide on aerosol formation might not sound like a particularly creative field of study—unless you study chemistry at Reed.

Chem major Danielle Draper ’13 won the coveted Class of ’21 Award, recognizing exceptional creativity, initiative, and spontaneity, for her thesis on the effect of nitrogen dioxide (NO2) on the formation of aerosols, or tiny particles, in forests. It turns out that trees naturally emit gases—like those responsible for the scent of spruce needles— that turn into aerosols in the atmosphere.

Danielle wanted to know how that process was affected by manmade emissions—in other words, how humans are changing the “natural” flow of a forest.

To conduct her experiments, she had to construct an atmospheric chamber, build a computer model to study chemical kinetics, and analyze reams of data. Her findings were intriguing. While most tree emissions (e.g. the spruce-scent particles) react with NO2 to create more particles in the atmosphere, alpha-pinene, an emission largely found in pine trees, actually produced fewer particles.

Danielle’s thesis won accolades in Reed’s chemistry department. Her adviser, Prof. Julie Fry, called her thesis “stunning” and is helping Danielle publish the results.

Danielle has been invited to join the chemistry department at UC Irvine whenever she is ready.

That qualifier is to give her time to pursue her other passion: aerial dance. Inspired by a contest in Science magazine called “Dance your PhD,” she choreographed her thesis at Portland’s Do Jump theatre in May. (Watch the show on our website.) The dancers in green represent organic molecules emitted by vegetation; the dancers in orange represent NO2. —By Miles Bryan ’13 8

Reed magazine september 2013

heidi hoffman

Chem Major Nabs Class of ’21 Award

DO YOU KNOW THE SCORE? Tango master Alex Krebs ’99 eyes a semiquaver at Tango Institute.

Fanning themselves with their programs in a standing-room-only Eliot Hall chapel, the audience was transported straight to the barrios of Buenos Aires as the violins, basses, bandoneones, and piano plunged into a sultry tango beat.

The nine players kicked off the grand finale of the Tango Music Institute, held at Reed in

all happen. An ethnomusicologist and leading scholar on contemporary tango, he dreamed up the institute three years ago. “I’m grateful for Reed being so supportive of music I’m really passionate about, for which there are zero formal educational opportunities in North America,” he says.

The institute is the first of its kind in the nation.

“ People had their minds blown” —Prof. Morgan Luker [music] June 23–30, 2013. For the next two hours, 53 musicians of varying experience and combinations showcased what they’d learned that week under the tutelage of four of the world’s preeminent tango musicians. Bassist Pablo Aslan, pianist Octavio Brunetti, and bandoneonist Julian Hasse, all Argentine-born, and U.S. violinist Nick Danielson capped the evening with virtuosic romps that lifted the applauding crowd to its feet, stomping for an encore. Many in the crowd refused to sit back down until they’d tangoed well past midnight at the milonga that followed in the student union, led by musician and dancer Alex Krebs ’99.

You can thank Prof. Morgan Luker [music 2010–] for making it

Aslan, the institute’s lead instructor, helped Luker develop the daily tango classes, workshops, rehearsals, jam sessions, lectures, and films.

“People had their minds blown,” Luker says. “They learned more here in a week than they would in 10 years on their own.” Participants hailed from 15 states, Canada, and the U.K. Portland boasts an active tango community, and the institute “builds on that synergy, while connecting Reed to the community,” Luker says.

His longterm goal? “To make the Reed Tango Music Institute a point of reference for everyone involved in tango in the U.S. and beyond.”

Look for the return of the Tango Institute at Reed in June 2014.

—Claire Sykes

leah nash

Queditor Lauren Cooper ’16 pores over the centennial issue.

Shock! Horror! Quest Turns 100!

Defying all expectations (and more than a few administrators) the Quest celebrated an incredible 100 years of publication in May with a special centennial issue.

The independent student more-or-less weekly newspaper published its first edition on January 16, 1913, when the college was less than two years old. That very first edition demonstrated a certain independence of character that would become the publication’s hallmark. Amid the sober headlines (SELF-GOVERNMENT TO CHARACTERIZE COLLEGE and ATHLETIC EVENTS TO KEEP REED MEN OCCUPIED) one can see portents of things to come. For example, an article TONG WAR FURNISHES EXCITEMENT described a grudge match between House F (now Doyle) and House H (Winch) involving a firehose: The dogs of war were turned loose in December and the fray immediately thickened to a heavy curd. Night became a time of hideous outcry and uproarious disturbance, and many deeds of violence difficult to recount found commission beneath its cover . . . A sally followed a short term of quiet, the inhabitants of House H venturing forth with a great deal of assurance. Manfully standing by to repel boarders, the fire brigade in House F brought forth their three-inch “sally discourager” and quenched an accumulation of ardor with a well-directed stream.

The Quest’s 12-page centennial issue featured highlights from each decade of its checkered past. The page devoted to the 1940s, for example, included a report of the first Reed Union (debating the topic of labor legislation), an account of the housing crisis precipitated by soldiers enrolled in the U.S. Army’s premeteorological program, and an ad for Chesterfield cigarettes featuring an oleaginous pitchman by the name of Ronald Reagan.

Overall, the centennial issue demonstrates that the paper’s piquant tang is not a historical accident, but rather an enduring, even defining characteristic. To support this thesis, we offer the following examples: An article from the 1920s (SOPHOMORES LOSE SLEEP AS CIDER REMAINS UNFOUND) described an escalating series of pranks committed by sophomores against freshlings and vice versa. In one instance, a freshman was awakened late at night, blindfolded, and transported to Johnson Creek “minus certain appurtenances of customary male attire.”

Fortunately, the victim met a kindly bystander, who furnished him with clothes and a ride back to campus with such dispatch that he almost made it home before his abductors.

A 1950s report of a stinging football loss to a certain college on the other side of the Willamette was headlined LEWIS-CLARK

An editorial on obscenity from the 1960s invited readers who disagreed with the paper’s policy to perform an anatomically impossible act.

A report from the 2010s described a Reed Senate campaign by a student channeling the spirit of Incitatus, the horse that Emperor Caligula installed in the Roman Senate. And so on.

Overall, the centennial issue demonstrates that the paper’s piquant tang is not a historical accident, but rather an enduring, even defining characteristic.

The centennial issue, which was compiled by editors Alex Krafcik ’15, Rebecca Turley ’16, Michael Song ’15, and Rachel Fox ’15, also featured letters from Quest editors of the past who later pursued careers in journalism and public policy.

We salute the Quest on its centennial and look forward to many more decades of muckraking. —Quoited Oldster

SQUEEZES BY REED 44–0.

september 2013 Reed magazine

9

Last Lectures: We salute retiring (and not-so-retiring) professors.

To see longer profiles, visit our website, reed.edu/reed_magazine.

Prof. William Ray [French, 1972] He has been called a man of unassuming genius, a wry professor—always in command of the material. Bill Ray made 19thcentury French literature come to life, dazzling students with surprising, multilayered interpretations. He held the John B. and Elizabeth M. Yeon Chair in French and the Humanities, and waxed eloquent on culture, the novel, and literary theory.

“Is it true there was a time when teenagers read current issues of academic journals as if they were the latest fanzines?” asks John Culbert ’85. “That they regarded the contributors to Diacritics and Yale French Studies with feelings usually reserved for rock stars? If I remember these things right, then Bill Ray was a celebrity, a man whose books and essays rubbed shoulders with works of the cosmopolitan, intellectual elite. Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida, and Paul de Man were distant idols, but Bill Ray walked among us, wearing light blue jeans with an oversize Western belt

buckle and a tan jacket whose physical composition—leather or Naugahyde?—remains a matter of sustained debate.”

After earning his PhD in 1971, Ray taught at the State University of New York–Plattsburgh before joining the Reed faculty in 1972, where he taught French, humanities, literary theory, and French fiction.

“Anyone who took a class with Bill would know the drill on the first day,” remembers Joanna Schildt ’98.

“You enter the conference, sit around the table, Bill walks in, sits down, shuffles his papers, and then . . . says nothing. Nothing at all. For minutes at a time. Students shift uneasily in their seats. Eyes roll queasily from

side to side. Who will break the silence? Who will speak? Feet cross and uncross under the table. Everyone stares at their books and their papers, taps their pens.

And that’s when it clicks: this conference wasn’t about Bill. If this conference was going anywhere, we had better do something. Bill gazed at us expectantly, smiling benevolently. And then began some of the best discussions I’ve ever had about literature in any language, hands down.”

Ray plans to continue traveling with his wife, eminent art historian Kathleen Nicholson, who shares his passion for bird watching and nature photography.

—Randall S. Barton

Prof. Patrick McDougal [chemistry, 1990] Reed may not have a competitive sports program, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t get a pep talk—especially if you took chemistry.

Pat McDougal’s rousing, animated style earned him the nickname “Coach Pat.” McDougal graduated from the University of Wisconsin, Madison, with a PhD in chemistry in 1982. He taught at Georgia Tech for several years before joining the chemistry faculty at Reed, where he became renowned for his skill at the science (or art) of synthesis of organic molecules.

One of his former students, Kristopher McNeill ’92, explained: “I absolutely adored having Pat as an instructor and as a presence in the department . . . I was captivated by the way he drew organic molecules on the board— how it seemed impossibly fast and fluid. I remember a particular moment when I was standing at the hood during my junior year, working on an independent study project, and was able to watch Pat holding court in

10 Reed magazine september 2013

front of a couple of sophomores at the board on the far side of the lab. He was explaining to them the concept of diastereotopic protons and why the two methylene protons of an ethyl group in a chiral molecule have different NMR shifts. This completely blew my mind, but I tried not to openly stare and show my wonderment, since I was the big, bad older student. The little throwaway five-minute lesson stuck with me and I have been using the same explanation and blowing the minds of unsuspecting bachelor, master, and PhD students to this day.”

After 24 years of making sure his students are challenged while not burning the chemistry building down, McDougal is leaving Reed, on what he acknowledges is somewhat of an early retirement, to try something new that will occupy him mentally and professionally. “Reed is a consuming place, not just for students. I wanted a little space to figure the next steps out. From what little I have read about retirement

planning, I know I have broken the cardinal rule about careful preparation . . . I guess I see it as just another research project,” he said. —Nisma Elias ’12

Prof. Ülker Gökberk [German, 1986] The full weight of her retirement still hasn’t sunk in. “I just can’t imagine yet that I will not have the students to interact with in the fall,” says Ülker Gökberk.

Students formed the central pillar of her time at Reed. Gökberk has a remarkable memory for them; each of her anecdotes comes with a postscript of what her former students are doing now.

Former students recall her passion for the subject and her belief that they could always push themselves further. “Ülker had the academic depth that made students take her seriously, but she also had a warmth and welcoming demeanor that made it much easier to knock on her door and reveal doubts I was having about my thesis project,” recalls Christopher Fast ’90.

Max Weissberg ’04 remembers Gökberk’s persistence: “She really drew me

back to Thomas Mann, to areas I did not understand and things I even feared. I once read the beginning of Doktor Faustus, got angry at a few passages in the middle, and threw it down. But Ülker really gave me the depth to understand someone who would become my favorite author.”

Gökberk earned her BA and MA from the University of Istanbul and her PhD from the University of Washington. She was unique in the German department, not just because she was the youngest professor and the

only woman, but also because her interests roamed beyond the standard German canon to i nc l ude Tu r k i s h German literature, of which she has been a leading scholar. “She was one of the first people at Reed who had a concrete vision of how multiculturalism could be taught and practiced,” says Prof. Katja Garloff [German 1997–].

In retirement, she plans to stay involved with the German department and will teach a course in Reed’s Master of Arts in Liberal Studies program this fall. —Alex Blum ’14

Prof. Ellen Keck Stauder [English, 1983] For many years, Ellen Stauder used an ingenious—and irreverent—method to teach her poetry students the difference between meter and rhythm. She played a recording of her long-haired dachshund Willie lapping up water from his bowl in perfect iambs.

Meter goes on and on, like the dog drinking. Rhythm, however, shapes time, stressing different parts of a poem in different ways. “My students thought I was insane to play the recording of the dog,” she says wryly, “but they never forget the distinction.”

Stauder needn’t have worried—the David Eddings Professor of English and Humanities has made an indelible impact on generations of students.

“Ellen Stauder may have had more influence on where I am in my career than anyone else,” says Greg Barnhisel ’92, who chairs the English department at Duquesne University. “Her English literary history class did a brilliant job of teaching the most canonical, conservative overview of English literary history from a feminist and historicist perspective. Even after 25 years, my understanding of the development of English literature is based on that class.”

Stauder earned a BM at the Eastman School of Music, an MA in English at the

College of St. Rose, and a PhD in the history of culture at the University of Chicago.

“I learned to go where the poems want to go on that day in my students’ hands and my hands,” she says, summing up her teaching philosophy. “If I could help the discussion come along and help students more fully say what they wanted to say, that was good.”

Fittingly, the college planted a yellow magnolia tree in her honor near the entrance to the Hauser Library. As Prof. Gail Sherman [English 1981–] says: “Every day as people walk into the library, if the beauty of that tree has an impact on them, it will be Ellen’s sustaining legacy to the college.”

—Romel Hernandez

september 2013 Reed magazine 11

Connecting Reed alumni across the globe

photos by leah nash

Empire of the Griffin From the Alumni Board President

With the turning of the Reed’s fiscal year July 1, a renewed executive committee takes over leadership of the alumni association (see below). As part of that renewal, I take up the role of president. I hope to serve in a way that earns the respect of all members of the association, if not their endorsement. The latter is a bit much to hope for, given the diversity of positions and opinions of Reedies, and I know that my time as student body president did not make all of my fellow students happy. It was nonetheless a privilege and (at least in large part) a pleasure to serve then, and I feel the same about our alumni board.

Part of earning respect will involve being willing to listen to any Reedies who have something to say about the college or the alumni association. I may not agree, but I hope at least to hear you out. Indeed, I want to encourage Reedies to contact me, either in person at Reed events, or any time via e m a i l a t g b y s h e n k @ a l u m n i . re e d .edu. People have told me that I can seem aloof in person, but that is only appearance. My nature is to be quiet, even introverted, rather than gregarious, but I am always happy to talk.

I think that there will be a lot to talk

about in the coming year. Apart from the continuing activities of the college and the alumni board, we are hoping to expand the reach of our Life Beyond Reed committee and engage more alumni; also, we are beginning planning for the centennial of Reed’s alumni association, which will take place in the 2014–15 year. In addition, following the completion of the Centennial Campaign and the upcoming completion and dedication of the new Performing Arts Building, the college will be engaging in a two-year process to reevaluate its strategic plan. While such strategic planning is ultimately the responsibility of the trustees and the faculty, there will be opportunities for input from students, staff, and alumni, as well. Indeed, there was a panel presented by President Kroger and senior staff at Reunions ’13: Reedfayre as part of this process, and there will be other opportunities for alumni to communicate as well, including at Leadership Summit, September 20 & 21.

We on the alumni board will try to keep the members of the association (that’s you!) informed about what is happening, and I encourage Reedies to keep us informed about your concerns.

—Greg Byshenk ’89

Reunions

Reunions ’13: Reedfayre was a stupendous celebration enjoyed by more than 1,000 alumni, friends, and family. View class photos and candid snapshots at reedfayre.reed .edu. Mark your calendars to return for Reunions 2014, June 4–8!

Executive Function

The 2013–14 alumni board executive committee includes a few familiar faces, plus Kristen Earl ’05, who joins the slate as secretary. Check out the online magazine for a glimpse of Kristen’s history of Reed shenanigans and to discover a few unlikely personal facts about the board.

Welcome New Grads

If you’re a new grad, welcome to the alumni fold! Learn more about our arcane benefits of membership and the new-fangled ways in which you can follow Reed and advance your own prospects via a variety of social media. www.reed.edu/alumni

12 Reed magazine september 2013

Alumni Overrun Campus at Reunions: Reedfayre ’13

Anthro

What do you do with a degree from Reed?

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What do you do with a degree from Reed? That question has vexed generations of graduates as they head off to the job market with the ink on their parchment still wet.

Naturally, the possibilities are limitless—but now, for the first time, we can offer some statistical insight based on the experience of Reed alumni.

Computational biologist Keith Allen ’83 volunteered his expertise to crunch a database of approximately 16,412 living Reed alumni seeking to trace the connection between their major and their occupation.

To simplify matters, Keith grouped majors and careers into broad categories. (We suspect French majors and German majors will not appreciate being ganged together, but what can we say? Welcome to statistics!)

He then created this stunning visualization that shows where alumni of various majors have taken their careers.

Keith has also produced charts for individual majors (we’ve included the one for language majors here). For more charts, greater levels of granularity, and more discussion, visit our website.

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Special thanks to Greg Byshenk ’89 for data wrangling.

Major Abbreviations: Amer American Studies

Math Mathematics (including Math/Physics)

A nthro Anthropology

Music Music

Art Studio Art and Art History

Bio Biology and combined majors with Biology

Other Interdiciplinary and short lived majors

Econ Economics and combined majors with Economics

P hysics Physics PoliSci Political Science

Hist History, History/Literature

Psych Psychology

Intl International Studies

Lang Chinese, English, French, German, Russian, Spanish, and Linguistics

Phil Philosophy and combined majors with Philosophy

Chem Chemistry, Chemistry/Physics

Rel Religion

Soc Sociology

Thea Theatre and Theatre/Dance

Lit Literature, Classics MA Master of Arts

Career Abbreviations artS Arts and Design

law Law and Judicial System

con Consulting

med Health Professions and Administration

div Divinity

edk Education: K-12

ngo Non-Profits and NGOs oth Other

edu Education: College/University eng Engineering

pra Marketing, Public Relations and Advertising

pub Journalism, Communications, Media, Publishing, and Entertainment red Real Estate Development and Management

fbv Food Services

fin Banking, Financial Services, Insurance

gvf Federal and International Governments

gvl State and Local Government

res Research

soc Social Work and Social Services

utl Energy, Utilities, and Infrastructure

it Information Technology ind General Business and Industry

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september 2013 Reed magazine 15

The Mythbuster

By Miles Bryan ’13

The first thing you notice about Ray Raphael is his energy. When he’s making a point— which is most of the time—his body vibrates like the skin of a drum, while his shock of white hair bounces up and down in counterrhythm. Past retirement age, he exudes a healthy glow—acquired in part by kayaking on the Eel River, which runs by his home in the northern California town of Redway.

He perches on a stool in his jumbled kitchen nook, a mug of coffee within easy reach.

The energy isn’t wasted. Ray is the author of 18 books, ranging from young adult fiction to a survey of the marijuana industry. But his central focus is the American Revolution— he’s written no fewer than eight books on the subject, including Constitutional Myths: What We Get Wrong and How to Get It Right, and he’s got two more on the way.

Calling the American Revolution welltrodden ground is a masterpiece of understatement. A quick library search yields over 75,000 books on the subject. Some 2,498 books were published last year alone— roughly one title every four hours. So what drives him to keep writing, day after day, page after page? The answer is simple. Ray wants to rescue history from mythology. He wants our understanding of revolutionary America to be based on evidence, not ideological convenience. And he won’t stop until he gets it right.

Ray came to Reed in 1961 to escape the brick walls and narrow streets of New York City.

His freshman housing was auspicious—his Coleman dormmates included the brilliant game-show prodigy Lenny Ross ’63 and Peter Norton ’65 of Norton AntiVirus fame.

Initially planning to major in mathematics, Ray gravitated towards the humanities, inspired largely by the Hum 110 conference of Roger Porter [English 1961–]. He remembers the debates in class as egalitarian and

16 Reed magazine september 2013

ramin rahimian

Historian Ray Raphael ’65, MAT ’68, searches for the truth about America’s founding era.

open, with one important provision: Porter required his students to heed the historical documents at hand when making an argument. It was Porter, Ray says, who taught him the critical importance of separating opinion and dogma from what could be known with the available evidence—and of pursuing the latter.

In 1962 Ray traveled to North Carolina to register African Americans to vote. In 1964 he joined the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee in Mississippi’s Freedom Summer. Inspired by these experiences, Ray spent much of his Reed tenure as an activist, first in civil rights and later against the Vietnam War. In 1965, when the nuclear scientist Herman Kahn (infamously satirized in Dr. Strangelove) was invited to speak at commencement, Ray boycotted the ceremony and ate hot dogs in the canyon.

At the heart of Ray’s work lies a distinction between history and heritage.

If the anti–Vietnam War movement of the 1960s was in part about protesting the nihilistic rationality of figures like Kahn, Constitutional Myths addresses the irrationality of a new force in American politics: the Tea Party. Each of the book’s eight chapters addresses a common misperception about the Constitution, looks at how the idea gained currency, and concludes with a fuller, more detailed account. In the chapter on taxes, for example, he tackles the myth that “the framers hated taxes” (substantiated by a quote by Rep. Michele Bachmann of Minnesota). He begins with a “kernel of truth” tracing the origins of the myth. The founders, Ray explains, did fear that granting the central government power to tax might reproduce the injustices inflicted on the colonies by the British Crown.

With that acknowledgement, he lays out “the full story”—the historical progression that led to the framing of the Constitution—which is usually at odds with the Tea Party interpretations. Regarding taxation, Ray notes that the power of the U.S. Congress to levy taxes was central to the framers’ thought.

In fact, the crisis created by the inability of the Continental Congress to levy tax under

the Articles of Confederation was one of the main reasons that the framers went back to the drawing board in 1787.

Ray returned to Reed in 1968 to get a master’s in teaching. Afterwards he followed the burgeoning back-to-the-land movement to northern California, where he taught every subject (except foreign languages) in the tiny high school in Whale Gulch, located in the wilds of Mendocino County. In the 1970s, Ray taught at College of the Redwoods, a community college in Humboldt County, and in the 1990s he started working with Humboldt State University in history education.

At the heart of Ray’s work lies a qualitative distinction between “history” and “heritage.”

History is what can be known about a subject through the available contemporaneous accounts and documents, an understanding of how an event—a war, a revolution—was experienced through the eyes of those who lived through it. “Heritage,” by contrast, is the received wisdom that accumulates on key events or figures over time. Constitutional Myths is ultimately an exercise in distinguishing one from the other, in stripping the chaff of heritage away from history. As he writes in the introduction: “ The past is a foreign country,” people say.

Although we all might agree with that statement on some level, this particular past—the framing and ratification of our Constitution—is our country too. Because it lives with us today and even determines our actions, it clouds the distinctions between past and present and tempts us to forget the most fundamental of all historical truths: that was then and this is now.

To be sure, heritage has its place. Uplifting stories about our shared revolutionary past can bring the most bitterly divided Americans together. But while those myths make great bedtime stories, they become dangerous when our elected officials take them as fact. The framers believed that unfettered debate was the cornerstone of their fledgling republic—that pugnacious writers like Ray were essential to stop the nation from becoming brittle. Ray’s got his work cut out for him. His mug of coffee is empty. He pours another.

september 2013 Reed magazine 17

Coloring Outside the Lines Kathleen Flannigan ’62 rallies the disabled artists’ movement.

By Mary Emily O’Hara ’12

Her Berkeley apartment features many of the trappings you might expect to find in an artist’s studio. A worktable covered with sheets of paper, jars of pencils, and markers. Walls festooned with colorful drawings.

Hand-painted furniture. A leather case bulging with illustrations—she works mostly in colored pencil on paper, although she also paints a bit and creates mosaics from ceramic tile. Then you notice the steelarmed adjustable hospital bed.

Kathleen Flannigan is not your typical artist.

At 72, the arthritis stemming from her lifelong cerebral palsy now requires Kathleen to use a wheelchair. But she says that living with disability is part of what brings her art to life.

“Some say my artwork is triumphing over my disability, but my disability has been helpful to me—instead of fighting it, I exploit it,” she says. “My work is unique because I am unique.”

Kathleen’s work has been shown at the Smithsonian and in locations as diverse as Brussels and Rio de Janeiro. She is an artist in residence at the California Academy of Sciences, and her work was recently shown at the exhibition Parallel Universes: The Flowering Gardens of Downtown Berkeley in the San Francisco Library. She has won numerous prestigious awards, including a PollockKrasner grant. On top of all that, she holds down a part-time job at Disability Rights California, a law firm where she acts as a consultant and liaison to the disabled community.

Kathleen’s hands tend to curl up as she speaks. Cerebral palsy, a neurological condition that can affect movement as well as the senses, first appeared when she was a girl. “I had a strange gait,” she recalls, “and my mother wanted a perfect child, so I had all these operations.”

18 Reed magazine september 2013

Cerebral palsy affects each person differently. Fortunately, it did not impair her coordination—or her intellect. She was an excellent student who attended Catholic high school before coming to Reed, where she flouted convention to live with three male students in a beatnik group house on Southeast Long Street. “It was a very primitive place; there was no heat. We’d sleep in the attic on sleeping bags. We wore Levi’s and cowboy boots, Navy watch-caps, black turtlenecks.” The arrangement at Long Street House gave her a wild reputation: “It was unusual to live with men,” she says.

“I had these freshman boys following me around hoping I would devirginize them!”

At Reed, she met her future husband, Richard Morgan ’60. They got married on campus, and were given the Doyle Owl as a wedding present. (They had to hide it.)

Kathleen left school early and followed her new husband to his sociology graduate program at UC Berkeley. But dropping out to become a housewife turned out not to be a good fit for the independent, spirited young artist. In 1981, she went back to school at the California College of the Arts.

“In art school I was told, ‘Never draw your disability because it won’t sell,’” she says.

At that time, she remembers, photorealism was being pushed in art schools, frustrating her desire to create art based on her own vision. “I’m not a Western artist,” she says, “I’m inspired more by folk art, Latino art, outsider art.”

She left school in 1983, ditching the stringent and methodical rules of realism to join forces with a nonprofit arts center, Creative Growth. The Oakland studio and gallery serves adult artists with developmental, mental, and physical disabilities, and provided her with an alternative to the confining fads of the mainstream contemporary art world. Today, many Creative Growth artists—such as textile sculptor Judith Scott, neo-Victorian illustrator Aurie Ramirez, and painter Dwight Macintosh—have entered a crossover zone where outsider art meets the “white cube” of mainstream art.

Kathleen has enjoyed commercial success—she recently sold work to Kaiser for

ariel zambelich

“Some say my artwork is triumphing over my disability, but my disability has been helpful to me,” says Kathleen Flannigan ’62. “Instead of fighting it, I exploit it.”

display in their pediatric hospitals, she’s building a business called Blazing Glazings that markets her mosaics and greeting cards, and she’s worked on commissions for corporate clients such as Verizon and 1-800-Flowers. But her most lasting achievements lie on the margins of the art world.

The Ed Roberts Campus is a sprawling resource center located in Berkeley for people with disabilities. As I crane my neck in the lobby, a man in a wheelchair whizzes past, zooming up a bright red spiral ramp. At its zenith stands an innocuous door marked Community Access Studio.

Inside lies a sunny room, illuminated by floor-to-ceiling windows. Every surface is covered in papers, pens, paints, and markers, while the artists group together laughing and talking. The room buzzes with energy.

A young woman comes up to touch my hair and says, “Your hair is pretty.” She asks for a hug. Right away it’s clear why Kathleen loves this place: “I get so tired of all this veneer and appropriateness. These people are not domesticated and overcivilized; they have all this energy.

“Maybe I’m thirsty for love or something,” she says with a smile, “but I love these people and they love me.”

Kathleen doesn’t just appreciate her fellow disabled artists on a personal level; she

is an activist who has tirelessly promoted artists with disabilities over the years, acting as an intermediary between them and the commercial art world. She founded the Artists with Disabilities Empowerment Project to show that people with disabilities could do the same good work as ablebodied artists. “They told us it couldn’t be done—but we did it,” she says with a mischievous twinkle and an irrepressible grin.

It’s impossible to spend time with Kathleen without admiring her energy and independence. She speaks her mind. She follows her dreams. Wheelchair or not, she can’t stop moving.

Mary Emily O’Hara ’12 is a freelance writer living in Brooklyn. Read her work at www.maryemilyohara.com

september 2013 Reed magazine 19

Page Turner Miriam Sontz ’73 takes over Portland’s flagship bookstore.

By Nadine Fiedler ’89

Portland is a city of bridges, a city of beer, a city of bikes, and a city of books. But Powell’s is the City of Books.

Filling the downtown store—which inhabits an entire city block—you’ll find mobs of people of all ages, styles, and persuasions, books in hand. They wander the endless rooms filled with plain wood shelves stacked to the ceiling, travel miles on the plain gray cement floors, stumble or leap into the universes contained in all those books.

They sit and read, they stand and read, they read to their children, they carry books home to read. “I remember making my mom read this to me over and over again,” says one woman, brandishing a copy of The Little House. Visitors wander through the maze of categories, including Bonsai, Pre-Raphaelites, Humor, Civil War, Mountaineering, Allergies, Transgender Studies, Masonry, Shamanism, Oceanography. They wander way back into the coffee shop, set their coffee cups next to piles of books. And read.

This gargantuan store occupies a special place in the hearts of Portlanders. And in the center of this readers’ paradise stands a Reedie—Miriam Sontz, Powell’s new CEO and a 29-year member of the team that has made this bookstore so central to its city.

“Portlanders own Powell’s in a way, not like Nordstrom,” she says. “The very books we sell come from Portland households.

They helped it grow into an institution.”

Miriam is uniquely fitted to this role. She grew up on the south side of Chicago, a voracious reader and self-described “bookaholic.”

At Reed, Miriam majored in American studies during a time of great student unrest.

“Kent State and Cambodia were going on, and the campus was closed twice for protests,” she says. “But Reed was important to my motivation.” Influential professors included John Tomsich [history 1962–99], John Strawn [history 1970–77], and Roger

20 Reed magazine september 2013

Porter [English 1961–]. She also learned some important things about herself at Reed: that she was not destined to work in academia, and that she was best cut out for working in business or as an entrepreneur.

Along with generations of Reedies, Miriam first came to know Powell’s as a student. In the early ’70s when the store’s founder Walter Powell was buying books to accumulate inventory for the store, he would camp on the Reed Commons stairs with a sign that said “cash for books.”

Later on, when Powell’s finally opened, she bought stacks of books there on the plantation novel, the subject of her thesis.

When she sold them back she was amused by the book buyers’ wonderment about who reads so many plantation novels. Reedies still sell books to Powell’s, with new crops of freshmen happily finding used copies of their Hum 110 books on the shelves, year after year.

“I learned a lot about diversity at Reed.

I learned about not underestimating others’ intelligence. Someone at Reed could look like a hobo and be the brightest person in the seminar. It was a very democratic institution,” she says. “And Powell’s is also.

All kinds of people feel comfortable there, including young people. My peers are surprised by all the 20-somethings in the aisles.

It comes from Powell’s academic, bare-bones feel. It’s not like a dining room or a rich uncle’s fantasy library.”

After graduation, Miriam’s interest in feminism led her to A Woman’s Place bookstore collective, where she discovered that she liked the book business. She cut her teeth working in some of Portland’s most notable bookstores, and decided by age 27 that this would be her lifelong career.

Miriam knew Powell’s co-owner Michael Powell (son of Walter) from Portland’s vibrant and collegial bookstore scene, and came to work for him as a buyer in 1984.

Because she had a young son at home, Miriam asked to work part time. That lasted all of two months, until the Powells opened a new store in Beaverton—and asked Miriam to manage it. She took the job and never stopped rising through the ranks. She stayed at Powell’s so long, she says, because she loved having a new role

every few years, gaining new skills to keep up with the constant changes in the business and Powell’s enormous growth.

For a decade, Miriam was Powell’s coCEO with Ann Smith ’81. “I haven’t heard of other co-CEOs, and it takes two women to do that. It takes commitment, respect, and civility,” she says. That ethical underpinning has been a hallmark of Miriam’s leadership at Powell’s.

Miriam was named Powell’s CEO this spring, setting her at the head of its 500 employees, a thriving online presence, and

TITLE HOLDER: As CEO of Powell’s Books, Miriam Sontz ’73 oversees six stores, 500 employees, and roughly 4.5 million books.

a new delta on the Mississippi River,” she says. “But people are not stopping reading or buying books. An independent bookstore survey found that the most frequent readers buy through multiple channels.

Our job is to see that you get the book you’re looking for.”

“My challenges as CEO include making a profit in a creative and humane way, and balancing fun and business,” she says. “I always wanted to speak and find my own voice. I do that through my business and organizational structure, and through how

we nurture and mentor people. It’s not a system so much as an attitude and heart.

Our goal is to create an environment where people can find their own path.”

At Powell’s, it’s easy to stray from your original mission. An errand to buy a Harry Potter book becomes an expedition to the Weddell Sea. Looking for the exit, you stumble on Sartre. It’s a kind of intellectual synergy that Portland cherishes. “Powell’s is an important part of the fabric of this community,” Miriam says. “And everyone at Powell’s feels that.”

daniel cronin

six locations in the Portland area. “What I am mostly responsible for is making sure things move forward, and that we have a vision,” she says. “That vision is to be an exciting, creative, vibrant community of booksellers and readers.”

As she navigates Powell’s towards its future, Miriam is leading the charge to revamp its website and remodel the downtown store. She’s excited about facing challenges that include Amazon and e-reading, and concerns about the value of the printed book. “Retail channels are shifting like

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Ruth Fremson/The New York Times

The Canvas and the Clue

How Jim Coddington ’73 solved a Jackson Pollock mystery.

By Christian Viveros-Faune

A painting, Jackson Pollock once said about his famously messy canvases, is “an arena in which to act.” The quintessential “action painter,” Pollock embodied America’s brawny, postwar spirit of innovation and became a household name in 1949 when images of him in his Long Island studio landed on the pages of LIFE magazine. His untimely death at the age of 44 while driving a convertible at high speeds along East Hampton’s farm lanes further stoked his biopic-ready renown. It’s no small irony, therefore, that many of Pollock’s half-century-old canvases today depend on just a few low-profile masters for their survival— namely, rare experts like Jim Coddington, the Museum of Modern Art’s chief conservator since 1996.

Art historian Max Friedlander had it right when he said: “Pity the poor restorer.

If he does his job well, nobody knows. If he does his job poorly, everybody knows.”

Consider the case of Cecilia Giménez. The octogenarian Spanish amateur took it upon herself to restore a century-old Ecce Homo fresco inside Zaragoza’s Sanctuary of Mercy Church in 2012, with disastrous results. Her name is now synonymous with the search words “famous botched restoration” (nearly half a million Google hits at last count), and wags have dubbed the fresco “Ecce Monkey.” No wonder conservators generally prefer anonymity. In the words of the late art historian James Beck, restoration is a lot like having a facelift: “How many times can people go through one without their poor faces looking like an orange peel?”

It was with some trepidation, then— earned through a lifetime of hard-won experience—that Coddington faced the challenge of restoring one of the signal works of postwar American art: the abstract expressionist gem One: Number 31, 1950.

mary mcclellan

The Wizard of Art and Time Prof. Charles Rhyne [art history 1960–97] was internationally renowned for his wide-ranging expertise in art history, from the English landscape painter John Constable to the theory and practice of conservation, Northwest Coast Native American art, and the use of digital images in research and teaching. His lifelong interest in photography was the basis of all his other work; his slides and digital images were his research notes, providing evidence of how things were and how they change over time. They resulted in three major websites: Ara Pacis Augustae; Architecture, Restoration, and Imaging of Uxmal, Kabah, Sayil, and Labná; and Architecture of the Getty Center. In addition to the nearly 2,000 photographs he took for his Ara Pacis Augustae website, Charles photographed wooden churches in Russia, American covered bridges, and master paintings on their way through the Portland Art Museum’s collection.

The conservation of art and architecture was central to his life’s work, and his research concerned everything from technical investigations into how masonry deteriorates to broad cultural issues, like the preservation of Native American art. Addressing the issue of preserving Native American totem poles, Rhyne said, “People think it’s very simple: you either preserve or you don’t. I try to lay out the complexity of things.” A single totem pole, he explained, could present many options. Should yellow jackets be prevented from nesting in the pole or seedlings be plucked from its cracks? Should it be stabilized, or righted and placed in the same position it was in 19th-century photographs? Do you fill in cracks and repaint the pole? “Each of these choices is an emotionally charged issue and the complexity of the situation is immense. It’s not just a matter of preserving or not. It’s how you should preserve it and if you preserve it, whether you display it and how you display it.”

An example of Pollock’s monumental drip paintings, One was completed in summer 1950 while Pollock was at the height of his powers. A virtually priceless treasure— a smaller painting, No. 5, 1948, sold for $140 million in 2006—the painting is one of Pollock’s most ambitious and monumental works. A mural-sized masterpiece in need of expert TLC (the painting measures 9 feet high by 17½ feet across), One makes a unique case for this artist’s enduring importance. In the words of the art critic Robert Hughes, Pollock in the 1940s and ’50s was “the first American artist to influence the course of world art.”

MoMA held a blockbuster Pollock retrospective in 1998 that gave One pride of place.

Ruth Fremson/The New York Times

Jim Coddington, chief conservator of the Museum of Modern Art, looks at Jackson Pollock’s One: Number 31, 1950, in the conservation lab at the museum in New York, August 27, 2012.

Conservators at MOMA have gained insights into how Pollock worked through a restoration of the piece and also revealed a mysterious missing chapter in the painting’s history.

But the exhibition also revealed that the canvas, according to Coddington, was suffering from a general “yellowing and buildup of dirt and dust in the painting’s crevices.” In July 2012, One was officially retired from the museum’s fourth floor for restoration.

Over the next 10 months, Coddington and assistant conservator Jennifer Hickey embarked on a period of close examination, cleaning, and repair that they chronicled on MoMA’s blog. As they inspected the historic canvas, however, they stumbled across an unexpected puzzle—one portion of the picture contained paint and brushstrokes that were dramatically different from the rest. Was this simply an example of Pollock’s unpredictable technique? Or

was it a subsequent alteration by a different hand—the equivalent of a doodle on the Mona Lisa? At stake was the painting’s very integrity, not to mention its value. If the MoMA team made the wrong call and altered the canvas accordingly, they would be guilty of a monumental artistic crime.

But if they ignored it, they would be aiding and abetting someone else’s crime. To find his way out of this dilemma, Coddington needed a crucial piece of evidence—and he knew where to look for it.

“Exhibitions themselves can be the impetus for considering conservation of a work, as they offer unique opportunities to compare

Coddington needed a crucial piece of evidence—and he knew where to look for it. related works directly,” Coddington wrote revealingly in his blog’s first entry. “During the 1998 Jackson Pollock retrospective at MoMA we were able to do this, and at that time we were able to see subtle variations in the tonality across the canvas of three paintings executed between 1948 and 1951.” A backstage pass to the conservation equivalent of the Beatles’ dressing room, Coddington’s informative yet entertaining

september 2013 Reed magazine 25

charles rhyne

feature

Prof. Charles Rhyne’s 1968 35-mm slide of the lower right corner was a breakthrough for Coddington.

top: Before treatment; the painting had some deep cracking and was partially filled with gesso.

posts also acknowledge the historical and popular importance of the Pollock painting. “We blogged about the restoration of One largely because of its celebrity status,” Coddington told me one June afternoon as we sat inside the museum’s airy conservator’s studio. “This is a picture people come to the museum to see. If it’s not on view, then I think we owe them some kind of explanation, which we can also use as an opportunity to educate the public about how restoration unfolds.”

Coddington compared the process to his previous restoration of the 20th century’s most important painting, Picasso’s Les Demoiselles d’Avignon: The steady, if reluctant, Mr. Fixit recounted how the wear and tear sustained by Picasso’s canvas became apparent only after it hung in a special exhibition with other period artworks. “That’s when we realized that the Demoiselles didn’t steal the show the way the history of art would have predicted,” Coddington recalled. “And it was our opinion that it was not Picasso’s fault—it had to do with the condition of the painting. We looked into it for the next two years, and saw that the painting had received several restorations, and the restoration materials had begun to discolor and mute the picture. The path that led to repairing the Pollock was similar. We saw it in contrast with other related pictures and noticed through that comparison how it had changed over time.”

A bespectacled, deliberate man with the bearing of the scientist he might have become if he had not found his true calling

bottom: After treatment; Coddington and his team retouched such cracks using watercolor paints, not to mask them completely, but to make them less visually prominent.

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in a Reed humanities course, Coddington remembers perfectly the life-changing effect one special teacher had on him during his years in Portland—the late art historian Prof. Charles Rhyne [art 1960–97]. “I was a biology major, but the soil that fed my professional life was really prepared in Charles Rhyne’s introductory art history class. That class taught me, among other things, that art is everywhere; but Charles’ course also taught me a lot about the materials that art is made from. As I got more interested, I concentrated on the idea that people made art from real things in the world. At some point a light bulb went off in my head—that synaptic connection joined my interest in science with my love of art history. After that, one thing just led to another.”

After graduating from Reed, he and Rhyne stayed in touch, speaking often and directly enough to form a lifelong friendship. The older scholar often counseled the younger man as he finished graduate work and, later, as his career developed. “To talk to Charles was to speak to someone who was intensely knowledgeable, interested in what I was doing, and who made me think differently by the time each conversation was over. His curiosity was boundless.

How he morphed from teacher to friend and colleague was very fluid, but I have to say that he remained my mentor for many, many years.” Still, nearly four decades after Coddington left Portland for study and work on the East Coast, few could have predicted that both men would collaborate on a major art historical finding in 2013. The

timing would prove crucial, as the 81-yearold Rhyne died in April of this year.

As Coddington and his staff completed their initial research and began the process of cleaning One, a previously unseen problem suddenly became crystal clear: areas of the painting contained patches of polyvinyl acetate. A synthetic resin-based paint that, according to Coddington, American artists ignored during the 1950s—but restorers had used freely since the 1930s—it had been applied in “fussy brushstrokes” that were totally unlike Pollock’s style. The marks, said Coddington, looked like they’d been put there to “cover up small cracks” in the enamel paint.

The circumstances were suggestive, but in order to avoid endangering the painting, Coddington needed to be sure. Stumped by the absence of restoration records, he turned to his secret weapon: a cache of photographs taken by Rhyne in 1962.

Rhyne’s renown as a scholar and teacher was matched only by the many honors he collected—among them, the American Institute for Conser vation’s Special Recognition for Allied Professionals for his “invaluable contributions to art conservation.” He nourished a lifelong commitment to photography and digital imaging as research tools. “A tremendous amount

restoration photos courtesy of jim coddington ’73

left: Before treatment; the white passage had been partially obscured by gritty, yellowed overpaint and small splatters of black paint. right: After treatment; removal of the overpaint reveals hairline cracking but an otherwise undamaged surface.

of information is conveyed in visual images,” Rhyne told an interviewer in 1994.

“Academics have valued the written word, but have tended to overlook the amount of evidence and information retained in visual images.” But Rhyne’s dedication to photography was no case of mere record keeping. It was instead, says Coddington, the ultimate grail of visual documentation—“close looking.”

In 1962, the Portland Art Museum showed several Pollocks from the collection of New York industrialist Ben Heller, whom Mark Rothko once called “the Frick of the Upper West Side.” Rhyne—then just two years into his job at Reed—took scrupulous photographs of One. “Should you ever need them, let me know,” he wrote to Coddington in 1998.

Coddington filed that information in the back of his mind. “Before we started the conservation, I got in touch with Charles and said, ‘I’d like to see those photos.’ He sent them and, bingo, one of the pictures suddenly made things absolutely clear. The remarkable thing about Charles’ photos is that they were of details. They virtually define the idea of close looking, especially one image that was a 35-mm slide of the lower right corner of the painting. Looking at it, it became obvious that what was in the painting in 2012 was not there in 1962.

Since Pollock died in 1956, that basically ended the discussion as to whether those changes were by the artist himself.”

The work of the conservator can be defined as that of a reluctant fixer. The

profession is informed at its highest level by the constant knowledge that no intervention is neutral. Coddington himself admitted this to me inside the sanctum sanctorum that is MoMA’s restoration floor, declaring that he is often simply “loath to restore a picture.” “Sometimes we take on the attitude of doctors,” he said, invoking additional medical parlance. “What’s called ‘watchful waiting.’ That’s where essentially

the other hand, we have no problem with cracks in a Rembrandt.”

In this Coddington and his staff at MoMA were greatly aided by Rhyne’s detailed photographic documentation—just as conservators in another major international museum have been thus far. Rhyne not only documented Pollock’s One in glorious detail; it turns out he also took many photos of other works in Heller’s collection,

No intervention is neutral. Coddington himself is often loath to restore a picture. “Sometimes we take on the attitude of doctors,” he says. “[It’s] called ‘watchful waiting.’” you’re aware that problems exist, but they haven’t risen to the level of urgency that warrants an actual intervention.”

But in the case of One, an earlier restoration required Coddington and his staff to fix what he judged to be repairs made to what was a slightly cracked but essentially undamaged painting. “I think any new work of art, if it starts to show age early, is somehow thought to be deficient,” Coddington said about the Pollock’s anonymous restoration—it took place sometime between 1962 and 1968 when it entered the museum’s collection—which the conservator corrected in part by revealing parts of the original surface, including bits of wood and a fly embedded in its surface. “When One started to show cracks, the restorer probably thought, well, I’ll make those cracks disappear. On

including the celebrated Pollock painting Blue Poles, now at the National Gallery of Australia. After Coddington recently sent those scans off to Australia, the museum responded with a combination of shock and gratitude: “We have nothing like this documentation,” they told Coddington. “This is totally unique.”

As MoMA’s chief fixer relayed this story, his voice wavered just a bit. “Nobody else had thought it important enough to assemble this kind of detailed documentation,” he said proudly. “But to Charles it was second nature. In the end, he not only changed my life, he changed the life of these pictures.”

Christian Viveros-Fauné writes about art for the Village Voice, Newsweek/The Daily Beast, and the Art Newspaper. He lives in Brooklyn, New York, with his wife, Lisa, and son, Pep.

september 2013 Reed magazine 27

What Is A Reedie, Anyway?

By Randall S. Barton | photos by matt D’annunzio

As a fresh batch of Reedies is unleashed on an unsuspecting world, we thought it was a good time to take a closer look at the class of ’13. We asked 12 good-natured graduates to talk about themselves, their theses, and their Reed experience.

You might be surprised by what they had to say.

Elizabeth Dinkova t h e at r e a n d p s y c h o l o g y Hometown: Sandanski, Bulgaria Advisers: Prof. Kathleen Worley [theatre 1985–]; Prof.Timothy Flemming [psych 2012–] Theatre thesis: “Communicating across Differences: Directing Approaches to the Socialist Absurd” What it’s about: How do you take a work of theatre from a source culture, show it to a target culture, and still have them understand what is important about the source culture? I adapted and directed The Suede Jacket, a play that originated in totalitarian Bulgaria, for a contemporary American audience. The play examines the breakdown of language and communication and the very tenuous position of the human being in the world.

What it’s really about: Theatre’s ability to help people from different backgrounds connect on an emotional level.

Psychology thesis: Perception of Visual Causality in the Pigeon

What it’s about: I tried to uncover whether pigeons and (by extension) other animals have certain capacities that have been thought of as exclusively human. Are animals capable of paying attention to the same sorts of visual relationships and cues that people use to make judgments about causality? I did a categorization task with pigeons in which they learned to discriminate between causal and noncausal visual displays.

What it’s really about: Humans are not so special. We’re different from other animals in degree, not nature.

Cool stuff I did: Directed five shows at Reed and acted in two.

Did a summer internship with an American theatre company in Greece, and a psych internship at Yale.

How Reed changed me: Reed made me confident that if I just persevere, discover what I’m passionate about, and follow that, I’m going to succeed. It’s everything I ever wanted in a school. Original ideas are appreciated and people try to push their own boundaries in order to discover something more creative and insightful.

Who I was when I got to Reed: Very shy. Getting an adviser in theatre was one of the most important things that happened to me because it determined my course of study from then on.

Scholarships, awards, or financial aid: Many amazing people I know would not have been able to come to Reed were it not for the generous contributions of alumni and others in the Reed community.

Influential book(s): Dostoyevsky’s novels. In my thesis, I used Meyerhold on Theatre. Meyerhold was a Soviet avant-garde director. Initially he was favored by the socialist regime, but it quickly became clear he was too experimental for them. Ultimately he was arrested and executed.

Something I would tell prospies: Develop close relationships with professors. Get involved in their research. You’ll learn a lot when you communicate with them on a one-on-one basis.

Reed is one of the rare places that can actually happen because the professors have the time and are happy to do so.

Favorite spot: The southeast stacks in the basement of the library, where all of the plays and novels are.

What’s next: A directing apprenticeship with the Studio Theatre in Washington, D.C.

Have at thou! Beth used this foil as a prop in Shakespeare’s King Lear, one of five shows she directed at Reed.

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Cole Perkinson p h y s i c s / c h e m i s t r y Hometown: Portland, Oregon Adviser: Prof. John Essick [physics 1993–] and Prof. Maggie Geselbracht [chemistry 1993–] Thesis: “Real-Time TunableEmission CdSe/Mn2+:ZnSe Nanocrystal Films” What it’s about: My thesis is an electrochemical investigation of the possibility of achieving tunable photoluminescence in heterogeneous II-VI quantum dot devices through the application of an external bias potential. These techniques could be applied to improve the efficiency of lighting devices and create color-changing quantum dot LED bulbs.

What it’s really about: Altering the luminescent properties of nanoscale crystals.

Who I was when I got to Reed: I have always been told to do what I love and to follow my passions where they take me. My passion for mathematics, science, and the humanities (as well as the great outdoors) landed me at Reed College. I knew I loved chemistry and physics, but part of the reason I chose Reed was its strength across the humanities and sciences, and I loved the serious (yet fun!) learning atmosphere here.

Influential books: Introduction to Electrodynamics by Prof. David Griffiths [physics 1978–2009]; Workshopkins, a blog by my friend Sam Hopkins. On the nonacademic side: On the Nature of Things by Lucretius and The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot.

Favorite spot: The thesis tower.

Being surrounded by the work of every past Reedie is an inspiring sensation.

Random thoughts: You don’t get lost in the crowd here. Reed professors genuinely care about your interests and success and are amazing at helping students thrive.

Cool stuff I did: Sang in Collegium Musicum. Played marimba. Joined the Association of Reed Gamers—I am passionate about board games. Versus the abstraction and isolation of video games, with board games you’re sitting face to face, enjoying the pieces and the strategy.

Juggling—there are an immense number of jugglers here. You can do juggling for PE credit, and Reed hosts one of the biggest juggling festivals in the nation.

How Reed changed me: Even though I ended up focusing on science, all of my interests have been developed in a positive way.

People here are serious about what they’re learning. We talk about our classes and what we do out of class all the time.

Scholarships, awards, or financial aid: Goldwater scholarship, NOAA Hollings Scholarship, Watson Fellowship.

Something I would tell prospies: This is an incredibly active and intellectual environment, characterized by exceptional teaching, intimate class size, close student-faculty relationships, and a collaborative, intellectual atmosphere. Reed is like none other!

What’s next: I’m heading to Africa for a year to study music and improvisation on a Watson Fellowship. After that I plan to pursue a master's degree or PhD in physics at Cambridge. I would also like to publish "Battle Dice Chess," a board game I've been designing.

Cole juggled physics, chemistry, board games, marimba, Collegium Musicum, T.S. Eliot, and yellow toroids.

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Laura Muco s o c i o l o g y Hometown: Austin, Texas Adviser: Prof. Marc Schneiberg [sociology 2000–] Thesis: “African Immigration and Assimilation to Portland, Oregon” What it’s about: I conducted interviews with recent African immigrants about their experiences of assimilation in Portland, with whom they build connections, and how they identify themselves. I talked to them about how they have been welcomed by the mainstream white, African American, and emergent African communities, as well as any sources of tension or conflict they have experiencead.

What it’s really about: Being an immigrant is rough but family and friends make it better.

Who I was when I got to Reed: A recent prep school escapee, I was a Gothlette with a lot of questions about social structure and hierarchy.

Influential book: School-Smart and Mother-Wise by Wendy Luttrell is about teenage pregnancy, how people react to it, and the economic and social consequences of those reactions on young women.

Social cymbals.

Laura's sociology thesis looked at the experiences of African immigrants in Portland. Away from the classroom, she did rock-climbing and belly dancing.

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Favorite spot: The Pollock Room in the library is a great place to read, gather your thoughts, and enjoy the light through the skylights. It is also home to a selection of newspapers, magazines, and a small collection of collected books like How to Cook a Wolf, the complete Harry Potter series, and Big Cats of Africa.

Cool stuff I did: Learned how to rock climb and conduct research with human subjects. Worked in the admission office and really loved doing interviews with students because I got to find out what gets them excited, what they are fluent in, and what kinds of things they’d like to study.

Obstacles I overcame: Lyme disease is something you get from a tick. The disease taught me that my body matters, and Reed provided ways for me to take care of it. I found students to run, bike, and do yoga with. My belly and modern dance classes were out of this world.

How Reed changed me: It gave me a tool belt of communication and analysis skills that I can apply wherever I go. I’m better at negotiating a conversation and getting my point across. I know how to create a conversation that will be productive.

What I would tell prospies: Dive in—you will be surprised what you are capable of! The key to success at Reed is balance.

There’s an old Woody Guthrie song about “eight hours of work, eight hours of play, and eight hours of sleep.” I aim for that, but at Reed it’s probably more like 10 hours of work, six hours of play, and, being a sleeper, I get eight hours of sleep.

What’s next: Relax, repeat, then apply to graduate school and get my thesis ready to be presented at social science conferences in the fall!

Auden Lincoln-Vogel R u s s i a n a n d a r t Hometown: Andover, Massachusetts Advisers: Prof. Lena Lencek [Russian 1977–] and Prof. Gerri Ondrizek [art 1994–] Thesis: “Surreal Returns” What it’s about: The written portion of my thesis discusses two surreal Russian animations: Andrei Khrzhanovsky’s “The Glass Harmonica” (1968) and Igor Kovalyov’s “Hen, His Wife” (1989). For the studio portion I made a Claymation with extended camera movements and a technique involving multiple green screens.

What it’s really about: Trying to make with one hand and break apart with the other.

Who I was when I got to Reed: I came to Reed planning to do art; I did not expect to get into animation. That was a complete surprise. I also got interested in Russian; it’s a beautiful language and the literature is great. The interdisciplinary major allowed me to pursue both interests.

Favorite spot: The new pit of the library between 5 and 6 a.m. during finals week; the sky glowing in that large window on the south side is the only evidence that time is still passing.

Random thoughts: At Reed everything is very compressed and there were times when I actively felt the way I think changing. You’re forced to reconsider things at such a rapid pace that not just your beliefs change, but also the way you form those beliefs.

Cool stuff I did: Spent freshman year in the ceramics studio, sophomore year studying abroad in Saint Petersburg, junior year welding bikes and brewing beer, and senior year leading and making things with Russian House.

How Reed changed me: I was just as skeptical coming to Reed as I am now. But in some ways that skepticism is now more pointed. I’ve learned how to analyze things and approach problems in a more direct way rather than just with vague doubt.

Scholarships, awards, or financial aid: Locher Summer Creative Scholarship.

Something I would tell prospies: The best things at Reed are the teachers. The most fun I’ve had was in the Reed library.

It’s rewarding when you get into a paper and it starts to write itself.

What’s next: I’m going to New Mexico to make some art.

Thesis expanded: For the most part, Russian surreal animation is late Soviet, the late ’80s into the ’90s. When I first saw some of these animations, it was baffling. I was able to spend a year trying to figure out something that made absolutely no sense to me. It was weird uncovering and then trying to integrate that knowledge into something else.

The fact that the thesis process is self-motivated is significant.

It’s a daunting process trying to figure out what you are interested in, but you learn a lot on a large project like that.

Influential book: The Days are Just Packed (Calvin and Hobbes)

by Bill Watterson. Until I was in high school, I pretty much exclusively read Calvin and Hobbes.

Auden wrote his thesis on Russian surrealism, welded bicycles, and made sculpture (e.g. this box).

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Melissa Osborne s o c i o l o g y Hometown: Roseburg, Oregon Adviser: Prof. Alec Campbell [sociology 2010–] Thesis: “Smoking with Felons: Building Community and Eroding Barriers in the Isolated Liminal Space of Reëntry” What it’s about: An investigation of the barriers facing inmates who are attempting to reënter society, and a delineation of the structure and processes of a new barrier that I call liminal isolation. Born out of disconnection between criminal and mainstream community networks, liminal isolation bolsters the effects of traditional barriers, and contributes to recidivism by placing a strain on the individual.

What it’s really about: Reentry from prison to society is more complicated than previously understood.

Melissa (flanked by her kids Maddy and Khris) wrote her thesis on the sociology of recidivism, studied class analysis, and worked out with Richard Simmons.

Who I was when I got to Reed: It’s been a weird path. I dropped out of school after eighth grade.

In my mid-20s, as the mother of two, I returned to community college. I found out that I’m really good at school, that I’m quite intelligent. Nobody had ever told me that before. My counselor sat me down and told me, “You need to start looking at more selective schools,” and suggested Reed.

Growing up in Oregon, I knew about Reed. It was where the weird, smart kids went. I was like: “I’m a weird, smart kid. Maybe they’ll take me.” One of the great things about Reed is that they’ll take chances on people like me.

Influential book: Punishment and Inequality in America by Bruce Western changed my entire academic course.

Favorite spot: I wrote about 80% of my thesis sitting in the Student Center on the second chair from the right. I was drawn there by the sense of community and support.

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Cool stuff I did: Did an independent study on class analysis. Exercised onstage with Richard Simmons. Planned Orientation. Helped build a leadership program from the ground up. Brought Eduardo Bonilla-Silva and Bruce Western to campus. Helped craft and implement the campus climate survey. Coordinated the peer mentor program. Served on the campus climate study committee and dean of faculty search committee.

How Reed changed me: Reed has changed the labels that I give myself. Now I think of myself as an academic, as a thinker. And I think of myself as being this socially responsible and involved individual. I can confidently say those labels wouldn’t exist if I hadn’t gone here.

Scholarships, awards, or financial aid: Coca-Cola New Century Scholar, USA Today All-USA Community College Academic Team, Jack Kent Cooke Foundation undergraduate transfer scholarship, Betty Gray memorial scholarship, the Alta S. Corbett grant for collaborative aummer research with Alec Campbell, Cooley Scholarship, Jack Kent Cooke Foundation continuing graduate scholarship.

If Reed decides that you can do this, and you’re poor, it is going to make it so you can go here. The admission office and financial aid are very conscientious. When they do let in people who need a full ride—and there are quite a few of us here—they don’t leave you floundering. It’s amazing. I got my acceptance letter and then I got a letter from financial aid that basically said, “We’ve got you covered.”

What I would tell prospies: Find something you are passionate about and pursue it at nearly all costs. Reed will give you the tools and space to do almost anything.

Don’t let that go to waste.

What’s next: University of Chicago for a PhD in sociology.

Nick Pittman e c o n o m i c s Hometown: Cambridge, Massachusetts Adviser: Prof. Noelwah Netusil [economics 1990–] Thesis: “The Effect of LowIncome Housing Developments on Nearby Home Sale Prices in Portland, Oregon” What it’s about: What housing developments of various sizes and types do to the neighborhoods around them, as reflected in sale prices.

What it’s really about: An excuse for me to play around with GIS. Who I was when I got to Reed: A kid who’d just finished a mindexpanding cross-country bike ride but still had a lot to learn about the diversity of thought, mindset, and prior experience at a place even as small as Reed.

Influential book: The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs.

How Reed changed me: My time in the Reed liberal arts terrarium has really done a lot to expand my embracing of other viewpoints and backgrounds. I’ve grown to love and respect economics more while also acknowledging all its inherent shortcomings.

Scholarships, awards, or financial aid: Mellon Environmental Studies Summer Experience Fellowship for a cool internship in Vermont last summer.

Nick studied the economics of low-income housing, volunteered at a local cycling center, and pedaled his steadfast Surly from Maine to Seattle.

What I would tell prospies: Tell yourself when you get here that you can get all your work done, and still make time to run around outside, hang out with friends, or do whatever keeps you sane. I had to consciously work at it, but I was able to live a pretty balanced life in my time at Reed.

What’s next: I’ll be working at an environmental and economic consulting firm in Cambridge.

Favorite spot: The Quad is the best place to throw a Frisbee and say hello to 30 people in 10 minutes.

Random thoughts: I’ve sat down for coffee with at least a dozen alumni and overwhelmingly what they said is that Reed taught them to think. In retrospect, that’s true for me as well. But I’ve also learned metacognition skills. I’ve learned how and under what conditions I think in certain ways and when is the best time for each one. For example, if I’m about to begin writing my thesis lit review I’ll hand $20 to a friend and say, “Keep it if I don’t finish in two hours.” At a certain point, work just expands to fill the time you allot it.

Cool stuff I did: The Community Cycling Center does a holiday bike drive where they give out bikes they assemble or reassemble to low-income kids.

I “taught” a PE course where Reed students would bike up to Northeast Portland once a week, assemble bicycles, and then bike back to campus.

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Huatse Gyal a n t h r o p o l o g y Hometown: Amdo, Tibet Adviser: Prof. Charlene Makley [anthropology 2000–] Have robe, will travel.

Huatse wrote his thesis on nomadic resettlement policies in Tibet.

Thesis: “Constructing ‘Civilized’ Subjects and ‘Stable’ Societies Through the Reorganization of Space: The Nomadic Settlement Project among Tibetans in Amdo” What it’s about: Central leaders of the People’s Republic of China have launched large upscale ecological policies that include resettlement of nomadic Tibetan people. I explore how this reorganization is driven by the perception that the pastoralists’ unruliness is a threat to social stability and that communal land use is inefficient and creates a barrier to economic development.

What it’s really about: Thinking beyond widely accepted notions such as “environmental protection,” “scientific development,” and “formal education.”

Who I was when I got to Reed: I was born in a nomadic region where we relied on yak dung as the primary source of fuel. During my childhood, I experienced very poor indoor air quality and the heavy burden of collecting fuel for my family.

I wanted to help people find cleaner energy technologies.

Influential book: In the Realm of the Diamond Queen by Anna Tsing.

Favorite spot: When I lived in Naito Hall I would go every night to the third-floor balcony for a break. The lights of the city put me in a more poetic mood. I love Portland.

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Random thoughts: We have to be careful with the words we take for granted. It’s important to create innovative energy sources.

On the other hand, it’s necessary to consider how such ideas are intertwined with the politics of power and pure profit-seeking business interventions . You have to ask, “Who’s deciding this? Who thinks it’s important?”

Cool stuff I did: President of the Asian Students Association. Got a McGill Lawrence grant to bring solar cookers to Tibet.

How Reed changed me: Even before coming to Reed I had a passion about learning. I’d wake up at four in the morning and read things, write in diaries, and study Chinese and Tibetan literature. But I had a narrow understanding of knowledge as being something that you memorize, like a collection of facts. One day my Hum professor explained it’s not about memorizing facts, but about how to become a critical thinker.

That changed the way I look at knowledge and the way I learn about things.

Scholarships, awards, or financial aid: The financial aid Reed offered me will greatly benefit a lot of people in both tangible and intangible ways. Including people from underprivileged backgrounds enriches the conversation. I learned to speak for people whose voices are not heard.

What I would tell prospies: If you are looking for a place where learning is truly cherished, this is it. It’s a place where you can be really who you are.

What’s next: Trying to decide between international development or graduate studies.

Erin Guy a r t / r e l i g i o n Hometown: Lake Stevens, Washington Advisers: Prof. William Diebold [art 1987–] and Prof. Ken Brashier [religion 1998–] Thesis: “Monstrance in Miniature: The Granville Manuscript’s Painted Windows on the Crystal Palace” What it’s about: I used the Roman Catholic, illuminated Granville Manuscript (1854) and its three miniature paintings of the Crystal Palace to look at if and how the valences of medieval styles in Victorian England relate to the 1851 Great Exhibition, often associated with an ahistorical forward-progressing conception of modernity.

What it’s really about: How miniatures are portals into fairy worlds.

Who I was when I got to Reed: Surly and overserious, sick of making art, starved for intellectual engagement, ready to save the world.

Influential book: Basically a long digression on the images that appear in cross sections of stones, The Writing of Stones by Roger Caillois is about the aesthetic imperative in geologic entities.

It’s out of print and totally expensive.

Favorite spot: The chapel is beautiful. I’ve experienced some of the most incredible music in that space.

Random thoughts: I came to Reed as a religion major, specifically interested in Christian mysticism. I was interested in working with Prof. Mike Foat, who studies early Christianity, Coptic, and Greek—that sort of thing. I took a class called Imperial Christianity with him my freshman year. It was terrifying, because I was not prepared to be in a class like that.

It was exactly what I wanted but paralyzing at the same time. I loved it.

Cool stuff I did: I made a giant magic lantern called a phantasmo-scope for Reed Arts Week.

Went to Beijing with an art history class. Learned that doing art history is an art, to trust my ideas, and to speak up.

How Reed changed me: My best friends and biggest inspirations emerged during my time at Reed. It opened my eyes to a flavor of generosity, brilliance, and creativity that I have never experienced anywhere else.

Scholarships, awards, or financial aid: Jo Desrosier memorial scholarship, Jill L. Renshaw memorial scholarship, Hawkins memorial scholarship, Lillie P. Wyss memorial scholarship, Reed grant, and a Reed Opportunity Grant. I am so grateful for the financial support that I’ve received from Reed over the last four years. It’s astonishing.

Something I would tell prospies: I really benefited from trying to see in different professors’ research something that was interesting to me and potentially could unlock more doors. I was interested in working collaboratively. I wanted to find something that professors would take a personal interest in as well, because I think that kind of dialogue is important.

Erin studied early Christianity and wrote her thesis on the Granville Manuscript, an illustrated manuscript dated 1854. This curio cabinet doesn't really have anything to do with her thesis. We just thought it was cool.

What’s next: Presenting thesis work with Prof. Diebold at the Middle Ages in the Modern World conference at the University of St. Andrews in Scotland.

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Juliet Shafto p s y c h o l o g y Hometown: Livingston, New Jersey Adviser: Prof. Michael Pitts [psychology 2011–] Thesis: “Neural Signatures of Conscious Face Perception: The N170 is Absent during Inattentional Blindness” What it’s about: My thesis examines how the process of visual perception differs for unseen images, specifically faces, using electrical potentials recorded at the scalp. Faces are especially interesting because they are some of the most important visual stimuli we encounter, and as a consequence they are processed uniquely from other objects.

What it’s really about: Trying to prevent people from noticing a face for 10 straight minutes.

Who I was when I got to Reed: I was hoping that just maybe Reed could be even close to as amazing as it sounded (spoiler alert: it was). I’m a reasonably content person, but when I got to Reed it was like: “Wow! I was missing out on a lot of things.” I was a bit of a loner. I spent most of my time working and didn’t seek out people very often. Then I got here and made amazing friends. The people I met here had a willingness to engage in dialogue about anything and really delve into any issue. I’m still busy with work all the time, but now that’s what my friends do, too.

Juliet wrote her thesis on visual processing, operated Reed’s nuclear reactor, and sang a capella with the Herodotones.

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Influential book: When I was very little I used to read a lot of comics. I loved “Calvin and Hobbes.” My dad used to say I learned a lot about the world that way, because I’d read these comics and ask, “What must be true about the world in order for this to be funny?”

Favorite spot: The EEG lab in the psych building is called the SCALP Lab, which stands for Sensation, Cognition, Attention, Language, and Perception. It’s where I did most of the work for my thesis and has an entire wall of windows, which makes all the difference.

Cool stuff I did: Operated the nuclear reactor. Sang soprano with an a cappella group, the Herodotones. Played the guitar and ukulele with a lot of friends.

How Reed changed me: I used to think of “paradigm” as the quintessential jargon word that means nothing. But when you’re in psychology you actually use that word a lot, and it’s pretty meaningful. I also believe in the power of friendship.

Scholarships, awards or financial aid: Work-study, loans, Reed grants, and various named scholarships each year.

What I would tell prospies: Keep doing the things you love.

You don't have to know exactly where you are headed right now, but if you continue to pursue what you care about, you'll find a path that works for you. (Or, at the very least, you won't be bored.)

What’s next: I’m headed to Carnegie Mellon to study visual perception and cognitive neuroscience.

Kelsey Houston-Edwards m at h e m at i c s / p h i l o s o p h y Hometown: San Diego, California Advisers: Prof. Paul Hovda [philosophy 2002–] and Prof.

Tom Wieting [math 1965–] Thesis: “The Continuum Hypothesis: A MathematicoPhilosophical Exposition” What it’s about: Georg Cantor’s continuum hypothesis, an assertion about the cardinality of subsets of the real number line, is formally independent of standard axiomatic set theory (ZFC).

Philosophers want to know why.

What it’s really about: Different sizes of infinity.

Who I was when I got to Reed: Too much of an adventurer to stay in school past 10th grade. After a number of years of stumbling around, I was fortunate to take a community college English class from a brilliant and inspiring Reed alumna (Lisa Neville ’90). What I will do for the rest of my life looks very different than what I did before coming to Reed.

Favorite spot: The math hallway on the third floor of the library.

It has abundant hangout space and is always filled with a vibrant mix of professors and students huddled around chalkboards.

Random thoughts: Most people equate mathematics with equations or problems, the geometry that you do in high school, or solving the quadratic formula, whereas mathematics at a higher level has a much more narrative structure. You build these big-scale problems and then you work them out in little chunks. The written work of mathematics has actual paragraphs instead of just numbers and equations. There are very few numbers, actually. It’s mostly just thoughts.

Cool stuff I did: Operated Reed's nuclear reactor. Created my own major. Explored Portland’s dog parks.

How Reed changed me: I unexpectedly fell in love with mathematics. I’m significantly better at crossword puzzles, largely thanks to Hum 110 and my extensive familiarity with the abbreviation QED. My professors have made the biggest difference to me. They have very high expectations and the better you do, the higher their expectations are. I like Reed’s unattainable threshold of what you can do.

Scholarships, awards or financial aid: Commendations for academic excellence, Edward H. Cooley Scholarship, Opportunity Grant.

What I would tell prospies: Everybody is dedicated to something and most people make those judgments from some kind of intuition. They are impulsively drawn to something, and the desire to actually to pursue that to an extreme degree is sort of a Reedie quality—to take the thing you might like and just keep going.

What’s next: Pursue a PhD in mathematics at Cornell.

Influential book: Matilda by Roald Dahl was an important book in my childhood—a book I appreciated because of the dark and smart humor of both the author and main character.

Kelsey ran the nuclear reactor, wrote her thesis on the mathematics of infinity, and explored Portland with her three-legged friend Indra.

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Michael Kincaid m at h e m at i c s / e c o n o m i c s Hometown: Palo Alto, California Adviser: Prof. Kim Clausing [economics 1996–] Thesis: “Is the Euro Optimal? An Examination of Trade and Cycles in the Eurozone” What it’s about: I examine whether the European countries are structurally suited to sharing a single currency, and hence, perhaps, whether the euro is worth saving. I find that the single currency does lead to convergence—but do the European countries actually want to become more similar?

What it’s really about: Economics as the continuation of politics by other means.

Who I was when I got to Reed: I dropped out of high school my sophomore year, got my equivalency and ended up a 22-year-old IT manager for a Silicon Valley startup. Some mentors and “spiritual advisers” strongly encouraged me to consider the full-time, smallliberal-arts route, and I never looked back.

Influential book: Grand Pursuit

by Sylvia Nasar is a history of economics from Smith through Marx, Keynes, Hayek, and the interwar years. Economics was this incredibly practical, vital science back then, maybe not so much a discipline of its own as a set of tools for thinking about the questions of the day (like “how do we recover from the war?”).

I would love to recover some of that vitality and breadth in my future work, though ideally not at the expense of the precision in analytical tools that we’ve developed since.

Favorite spot: Two-way tie between the computer lab and the east end of the canyon.

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Random thoughts: At Reed I had the resources to go after anything I wanted to pursue. I particularly appreciated the close attention from faculty and the amazing thesis advising. We’re surrounded by peers who are deeply immersed in what they’re doing, which is tremendously valuable.

Cool stuff I did: Got to be president of Reed for a day.

Kayaked in the Willamette.

Held an off-campus job. In epistemology class with Prof.

Troy Cross [philosophy 2010–] I discovered that I do not know anything, in the deepest and most radical of senses.

How Reed changed me: I’m less confident that you can think about solving complex problems in big ways, but at the same time I feel like I have the knowledge, confidence, and agency to say, “I know how to do that kind of research.” You have to attack a little bit at a time and there are lots of small ways you can start piecing things together.

Scholarships, awards, or financial aid: Graduated Phi Beta Kappa and with the Meier economics award; Miller-Mintz collaborative faculty summer research grant, summer 2011 for work with Prof. Noelwah Netusil [economics 1990–].

What I would tell prospies: Reed is about questioning along the way what you’re doing and why and how you got there.

What do I need to be doing in the world, and who am I and why?

Come prepared for an experience that is going to blow your mind, but it may be completely different from what you planned.

What’s next: Pursue a PhD in economics from Harvard.

Michael’s whiteboard displays important lessons learned from Reed’s Math 112, Intro to Analysis, and Econ 314, Macro Theory.

Ashley Kroll b i o l o g y Hometown: Hoquiam, Washington Adviser: Prof. Sarah Schaack [biology 2011–] Thesis: “Characterizing the Transposable Element Content of the Manduca sexta Genome” What it’s about: I used bioinformatic tools to find the transposable elements in the tobacco hornworm genome. It was part of a bigger project with scientists from other schools working to map the entire genome.

What it’s really about: Using computer programs to find things in a huge genome dataset.

Who I was when I got to Reed: A straitlaced, well-behaved, overachieving high school student from a small town in rural Washington state.

Influential book: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks is about the first human cells successfully cultured outside the human body.

It raises a lot of questions about informed consent. Do parts of your body that doctors collect belong to science, or do they belong to you? Should you be compensated if the research ends up being profitable? It combines my love of scientific research and the medical, social, and legal aspects of health care and research ethics.

Favorite spot: The chapel lets you feel the history of Reed. It smells of old wood and is always quiet, cool, and soothing.

Random thoughts: When it comes to making health laws, there’s often a disconnect between those with a strong science background and those with a strong legal background.

What’s needed is someone with a foundation in both areas, which is why I want to study law.

Cool stuff I did: Competing in four preliminary pageants for Miss Oregon made me more confident about answering questions and talking to people in the community. It gave me a break from school to practice walking in my heels, or to have someone show me the right way to flip my dress and smile at the audience. I also acted in The Vagina Monologues for three years and directed it twice.

How Reed changed me: I am more confident and calmer in my confidence. I’ve learned to prioritize tasks, choose my battles, and figure out what I want to excel at—putting energy into those activities rather than succeeding at everything.

Obstacles I have overcome: During my freshman year, my mother had a brain aneurysm, and she is currently mentally and physically disabled. I have held her power of attorney, been in charge of her care, and also raised my younger brother during his last two years of high school, sending him off to Eastern Oregon University.

Ashley wrote her thesis on the tobacco hornworm genome, took care of her younger brother, and competed in Miss Oregon.

Scholarships, awards, or financial aid: I would not be here without a generous financial aid package, and I’m so grateful.

If you only select students who can pay for college, you miss out on the diversity and richness of experience.

Something I would tell prospies: Reed has more to offer than just a classroom experience, and Portland has more to offer than just Reed. Take the time to explore your surroundings—I guarantee it will be worth it.

What’s next: Northeastern University School of Law in Boston.

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Reediana Books by Reedies

Fear: Across the Disciplines

Edited by Prof. Benjamin Lazier [history 2005–] and Jan Plamper

University of Pittsburgh Press, 2012

The more we learn about the brain, the clearer it becomes that fear is the most ancient and powerful of human experiences. But what is fear exactly—is it an emotion, a physiological state, or a cognitive recognition of an imminent threat? How is fear adaptive, and why does normal fearfulness so often shift into phobic overdrive?

Approaching these questions from the varying perspectives of clinical psychology, neuroscience, philosophy, political theory, economics, and cultural history, Fear: Across the Disciples gives us many tools for thinking about fear and its impact on every aspect of life.

By far the most substantial piece is Ruth Leys’ critique of psychologist Paul Ekman’s research on facial and bodily cues. Over several decades, Ekman’s work has become a linchpin

of government and corporate efforts to identify potential terrorists or other troublemakers, but Leys joins many others who have called Ekman’s assumptions and research methods into question.

“Fear of a Safe Place,” the essay contributed by Reed’s own Prof. Jan Mieszkowski [German 1997–], reminds us that our fascination with horrific events is nothing new, and that the phenomenon of public rubbernecking attracted the interest of Enlightenment figures such as Chateaubriand, Immanuel Kant, and Edmund Burke, the latter of whom described terror as “a passion which always produces delight when it does not press too close.”

Historian Harold James discusses the role of shareholder panics in the stock

Revolutions in Twentieth-Century Physics

market crashes that produced the Great Depression and the current Great Recession, and political scientist Corey Robin analyzes the uses of fear in shaping public discourse and policy. As the run-up to the 2003 invasion of Iraq suggests, the greater the perceived threat—such as “weapons of mass destruction” in the hands of our adversaries—the less proof we demand that the threat is actually real, and the more likely we are to accept restraints on our constitutional rights.

For me this anthology’s least familiar and thus most fascinating material appears in historian Jan Plamper’s discussion of Russian military psychology in the early 20th century, when the pre- and postcombat stresses experienced by soldiers stopped being a shameful taboo and became the object of research and therapy rather than punishment. —ANGIE JABINE ’79

By Prof. David J. Griffiths [physics 1978–2009]

Cambridge University Press, New York, 2013

Whatever surprises physics delivers in the 21st century, the 20th is going to be one tough act to follow. At the turn of the last century, physics was in danger of becoming an intellectual backwater: our watchwork universe seemed clearly governed by long-established Newtonian principles. Promising young scientists were counseled to avoid the discipline, as so few discoveries remained to be made.

Then, in 1905, an unknown Swiss patent clerk published a paper entitled “Zur Elektrodynamik bewegter Körper” (On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies). Better known as the theory of special relativity, it pretty much changed everything. Physics went nonlinear.

Prof. David Gr iffiths ’ new book , Revolutions in Twentieth-Century Physics, performs double duty as a layman’s physics text and as an intellectual history of the century that most fundamentally altered humankind’s understanding of the universe.

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Deceptively slim, but powerfully expository, this book provides an overview of the mindbending discoveries of 20th-century physics in just five chapters. Reedies of a certain vintage will recognize the first of these chapters as a brief refresher of the foundational Newtonian physics of Nat. Sci. 110, with Griffiths whisking the reader past a selective survey of classical physics, from simple mechanics to wave dynamics.

With physics (circa 1900) under your belt, Griffiths draws his machete and hacks a four-chapter trail into the 20th-century’s four great physics revolutions: relativity, quantum mechanics, particle physics, and cosmology.

Griffiths seeks to introduce these concepts’ beauty, strangeness, and curious symmetries without penning a shallow, “gee-whiz” physics review. Presenting the gist of these recondite topics without demanding too much of a lay reader is a delicate balancing act, and

for the most part, he gets it right (though an answer guide would at times be welcome).

Griffiths has managed to set aside the most fearsome aspect of advanced physics—the advanced math—with a book that demands only arithmetic and algebraic understanding.

While the often counterintuitive discoveries of 20th century physics had to be demonstrated with hairy mathematics and elaborate experiments, once proven, most can be expressed in plain algebra. Griffiths’ tone is gentle and conversational, and he’s refreshingly relaxed about shrugging his shoulders and admitting when he doesn’t have answers.

Usually, it’s because no one does.

For readers with the math chops to pursue these principles more deeply, Griffiths has already written highly regarded and widely adopted introductory textbooks on quantum mechanics, electrodynamics, and elementary particles. For the rest of us, Revolutions in Twentieth-Century Physics will prove a useful and instructive field guide.

—William Abernathy ’88

Blue Plate Special: An Autobiography of My Appetites

By Kate Christensen ’86

Doubleday, 2013 michael sharkey

“The company of other people, the vicissitudes of romantic relationships, or just being out in the world, have often made me feel anxious, uncomfortable, judged, shy, or misunderstood, and fundamentally unconnected to myself, the truest cause of loneliness,” writes novelist Kate Christensen in her new memoir. “Eating a good meal, like reading a satisfying novel, has returned me to myself during times when this disconnect was a profound internal chasm.”

And so she hangs this account of her life on a generous framework of food. The oldest daughter of a celloplaying Swiss-German refugee mother and a Marxist lawyer father, she spent her early childhood in the granola-laced Berkeley counterculture, until her father’s bouts of wife beating precipitated a divorce. Her mother moved the family to Arizona , where she scrimped her way through grad school and served up “blue plate specials”—cheap, hearty meatloaf or frozen fish fillets—to her three growing daughters. This being the 1970s, the girls seldom ate anything more exotic than the occasional TV dinner, SweeTarts, or Snickers bars.

It was a stint as a nanny and cook in France that introduced Kate to more sophisticated fare. Encountering her first soufflés, mousses, crème fraîche, and lapin à la cocotte at the height of her adolescent body consciousness led to a feast-or-famine scenario that will be depressingly familiar to many female readers: gorging on rich food, then starving herself until her jeans hung loose on her hips again. As an English major at Reed, she stared dubiously at the dreadlocked “trust fund kids” scrounging off the trays in commons, and her sense of food “became bifurcated. I ate little, but I thought about it a lot.”

She attended the Iowa Writers’ Workshop on the strength of the short stories she wrote at Reed. At age 27

she moved to New York City, where she lived and ate for two years before ever sitting down to a nice meal in a good restaurant. “If I had known that my first novel wouldn’t be published for another 10 years,” she notes, “I might have jumped out the window.”

But the novels—sharp, satirical, not-quite-comedies of manners—did get written and published, six of them to date. Her highly acclaimed novel, The Great Man, practically defines its characters by their palates: the gallery owner who regales his dinner guests with tiny “Japanese woodcut” salads of pale green frisée and ceriserimmed radish slices; the asocial artist who “would have been perfectly happy with a wedge of iceberg with a glob of bottled Russian dressing.”

Today Kate lives and eats in one of America’s best food towns, Portland, Maine, and more food-related books are in the works. The family schisms, tormented romances, and tearful restaurant scenes that she chronicles in Blue Plate Special arguably come across more entertainingly when enlivened with dialogue and transmuted into fiction, especially in The Great Man and her latest novel, The Astral. But aspiring novelists will surely appreciate her honesty, and anyone whose imagination is sparked by food will appreciate her recipes, from the tapioca pudding of toddlerhood to the “dark night of the soul” soup of middle age.

—ANGIE JABINE ’79

Reculer Pour Mieux Sauter (volumes 2–5), by Anne-Marie Levine ’61 (limited edition, 2013). Pianist, poet, and painter Anne-Marie makes the case for the unique and lasting value of print by creating a print book that is a unique blend of poetry and prose; 20th-century history; and personal memoir, images, and art. Both this book and volume 1 are available from AnneMarie (amble@gmx.com) or from Amazon.

The Reign of Boris Gudunov, by Geoff Baldwin ’62 (Nast, de Brutus & Shortt, 2013). The publication of this volume and an additional volume, The Reign of Ivan the Terrible, represent a portion of a project Geoff is near to completing: the translation of N.M. Karamzin’s 12-volume History of the Russian State.

Never before available in English, the two volumes and impending History are intended for the reader, who is, in Geoff’s words, “that endangered mythical beast, the intelligent layman.” Karamzin was a writer, poet, and critic who served as historiographer on the Russian court and wrote his History over a span of 23 years until his death in 1826. Geoff has retired from his work as a systems software programmer. His superb training in the Russian language and experience as a translator support this monumental accomplishment.

Kant: Lectures on Anthropology, edited by Allen Wood ’64 and Robert Louden (Cambridge University Press, 2012). Kant was one of the inventors of anthropology, and his lectures on the subject were very popular. This volume includes several lectures from various sources that together demonstrate Kant’s coherent empirical theory of human nature. Allen is professor of philosophy at Stanford. He served as coeditor of the Cambridge History of Philosophy in the Nineteenth Century (1790-1870) and has two more books due out in 2014.

Mr. President: How and Why the Founders Created a Chief Executive, by Ray Raphael ’65, MAT ’68, is now available in paperback. Other writing includes “The Democratic Moment: The Revolution and Popular Politics,” an article in The Oxford Handbook of the American Revolution. Ray also writes the “MythBuster” column for the online Journal of the American Revolution: All Things Liberty (allthingsliberty.com). A revised edition of Founding Myths will be released in April 2014. (See feature, page 16.) september 2013 Reed magazine 41

Reediana Eating on the Wild Side: The Missing Link to Optimum Health, by Jo Robinson ’69 (Little, Brown, and Company, 2013). Ever since farmers first planted seeds 100,000 years ago, humans have been unwittingly selecting plants that are high in starch and sugar and low in vitamins, minerals, fiber, and antioxidants. Eating on the Wild Side presents a radical way to select fruits and vegetables—even in grocery markets—and reclaim the flavor and nutrients that have been lost. Jo is an investigative journalist and author or coauthor of 14 books. Learn more at eatwild.com.

Transhumanist Dreams and Dystopian Nightmares: The Promise and Peril of Genetic Engineering, by Max Mehlman ’70 (The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2012). In his latest book, Max considers the promises and perils of using genetic engineering in an effort to direct the future course of human evolution. He addresses scientific and ethical issues without choosing sides in the dispute between transhumanists and their challengers, and reveals that radical forms of genetic engineering could become a reality much sooner than many people think. Reviewers have found the book to be highly readable, timely, well balanced, and well documented—“a thought-provoking read for genetics professionals, ethicists, interested scientists, and concerned citizens.” (See Class Notes.)

The Reborn Bible 2.0: The 2nd Coming Gospel of the American Rapture, by David Comfort ’71 (CreateSpace, 2013). David describes his book as a Swiftian satire of Grand Old Philistine GOP evangelists, who make politics into religion while damning secular humanist liberals for making a religion of politics. One reviewer remarks that the book has “an utterly unique and scathingly funny title with a fast plot,” and like the best comedy, “adds a new perspective to very serious social and ethical issues.” A second book, The Insider’s Guide to Getting Published (Writers Digest, 2013), David says is “an expose of today’s genre and bestseller-driven publishing industry that dispenses with Cinderella stories and offers no-nonsense survival advice to aspiring literary novelists.” Excerpts of his Guide have appeared in the Montreal Review, Stanford Arts Review, InDigest, Writing Disorder, and Eyeshot. Other excerpts are scheduled to appear on Pleaides, Glasschord, and Line Zero. David’s current fiction appears in the Evergreen Review, Cortland Review, Scholars & Rogues, and Inkwell.

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Burrowing Song, by Karen Greenbaum-Maya ’73 (Kattywompus Press, 2013).

Karen’s new chapbook of prose poems follows in the tradition of her chapbook Eggs Satori, previously a Pudding House Publications selection that will be published by Kattywompus (www .kattywompuspress.com) at the year’s end. “Prose poems have been around a while, although not under that name,” says Maya. “You may find them reminiscent of the short pieces of Kafka, or Buber, also of shaggy dog stories, fairy tales, and dreams. Who knew that most of the preoccupations of my adult life would find a place in one genre?” For a copy of Burrowing Song that is signed and is free of shipping charges, order directly from Karen (“be sure to leave me your address”) at pieplate8@yahoo.com. You may also visit Karen’s photo and poetry blog at cloudslikemountains .blogspot.com.

Parachuting into Poland, 1944: Memoir of a Secret Mission with Józef Retinger, by Jan Chciuk-Celt ’76 (McFarland & Company, 2013).

Jan’s book, a translation from Polish to English of his late father’s last book, is the true story of the daring parachute mission to Poland that his father, war hero Tadeusz Chciuk-Celt, made in 1944. The book was the subject of the article “Found in Translation,” published in the September 2010 issue of Reed magazine.

First Came Marriage: The Rabbinic Appropriation of Early Jewish Wedding Ritual, by Susan Marks ’83 (Gorgias Press, 2013). Judaism scholars have been reevaluating the role of rabbis in the early days of the religion, but Susan’s investigation of marriage ritual is a unique contribution to the perception of the Rabbinic Movement. In the early days of Judaism, Susan notes, most weddings did not include the presence of or blessings by rabbis, who later gravitated toward the ceremonies as a way to grow their religious movement. “The earliest rabbis, the Tannaim, were not interested in wedding ritual. They were probably a fairly ascetic movement.” In her book, Susan juxtaposes sources ranging from the Mishnah and the Tosefta, texts written by early rabbis, to inscriptions on headstones and vases that detail relationships between men and women, often slaves, who would have been excluded from marriage rituals. “Examining the restrictions on those relationships helps us understand how rabbis construct citizenship, while the literary sources

reveal the limited extent of early rabbis’ stake in those practices.” What we have today is the legacy of Rabbinic Judaism, she writes. “But people have begun to recognize that they were one of a variety of alternatives in the year 300. They weren’t the big show in town.” (See Class Notes.)

Holding Breath: A Memoir of AIDS’ Wildfire Days, by Nancy Gormley Bevilaqua ’85 (CreateSpace, 2012). Nancy worked for 10 years as a caseworker and counselor for people with AIDS, the homeless, and people in drug treatment programs, and has written this book about a relationship with David, one of her clients in New York in the late ’80s. In what should not come as a surprise to some of her Reed professors, she says, the book took 22 years to complete.

After reading Nancy’s book, Adam Green ’85 wrote: “Here’s what this book was, to me at least: a bright, hopeful story, with an interesting hero (well, a pair of heroes, really) and a gritty journey—personal, intimate, sympathetic, and more about Nancy than about David. It’s evocative of time and place, clear of vision, well paced, and at times fantastically beautiful, and I read the first half of it in one very long sitting. David comes across as kind of angelic, Nancy’s stories in the past and present are both quite compelling, and the central question of the book—why anyone would put herself through all this—gets answered slowly, from a couple of different angles and in ways that are, ultimately, quite satisfying to me as a reader. If you’re worried about this book being a sad, depressing story of a broken man’s final days in a dreary hospital room in one of those gowns that doesn’t fasten all the way, well, don’t. That’s not at all what’s going on here. It’s a story of compassion, and memory, and transitory beauty. And it’s really good.” (See Class Notes.)

Creating the Witness: Documenting Genocide on Film, Video, and the Internet, by Leshu Torchin ’90 (University of Minnesota Press, 2012). Leshu’s book examines the role of film and the internet in creating virtual witnesses to genocide over the past 100 years. Using a broad survey of media and the social practices around them, she investigates the development of popular understandings of genocide to achieve recognition and response, ultimately calling on viewers to act on behalf of human rights. The book has been described as stunning, urgent, forceful, and necessary. “Creating the Witness exorcises the ghostly and ghastly representations of genocide and pushes them beyond the graveyards and the archives of trauma.”

Hat Couture, by Theressa Silver ’93 (Cooperative Press, 2013). For Theressa, a hat is not just a head warmer—it is a statement! “A great hat projects style or courage or mischief or sultriness—or all of the above.” In Hat Couture, she shares 13 patterns intended to match the mood of the wearer and to enable a knitter, even a beginner, to be successful and creative.

Theressa loves the mathematical and technical aspects of knitting and is inspired by the physical characteristics of knit fabrics to test the limits and create the unexpected. She lives in Oregon with her husband, Stephen Gerken ’91, and son, who share their home with five cats and a dog. Theresa says that everyone participates one way or another in the knitting process.

Ethnic Cleansing and the European Union: An Interdisciplinary Approach to Security, Memory and Ethnography, by Lynn Tesser ’93 (Series on Rethinking Peace and Conflict Studies, Palgrave Macmillan, 2013). An enlarged European Union introduces new opportunities for ethnic remixing, bringing fears over potential minority return and even sovereignty in some cases.

How does a border-effacing EU impact territory subject to ethnic cleansing? Why is potential minority return considered a security threat in some recently “unmixed” areas, but not others? The book’s two major theoretical innovations include an explanatory frame elucidating variation in Central Europe, the Balkans, and Cyprus, and an analysis of repeated minority removal for conflict resolution purposes in the early- to mid-20th century. Lynn argues that the Western-dominated international community’s earlier endorsement of separation brought potent aftereffects: incentives for ethnic cleansing and the politics of ethnic remixing in an enlarging EU. Reviewers note that Lynn has “written an important book that epitomizes the best traits of good comparative research: strong theoretical foundations and an engaging and innovative empirical structure” and that her “thoughtprovoking analysis will be of interest to students, researchers, and policy makers concerned with nationalism and ethnic conflict.” (See Class Notes.)

The Colonies, by Mira Rosenthal ’96 (Zephyr Press, 2013). Mira’s translation of Tomasz Rózycki’s sixth book of poetry received an NEA Fellowship, a PEN Translation Fund Award, and the Top Quark Prize in Arts and Literature from 3quarksdaily. Mira encountered Rózycki’s poetry during a Fulbright fellowship in Poland in 2004. “Unlike many of his contemporaries, who sought to put aside the burdens of

history and moralism in the work of their immediate poetic forerunners,” she wrote, “Rózycki seemed to embrace his poetic lineage. His lyricism and formal play were enthralling and expansive. His poetry built on the work of those poets who had brought me to Poland in the first place.

It gave me a window into the contemporary extension of historical and cultural themes, and compelled me to try my hand at translation.”

Three years later, she published a translation of his book The Forgotten Keys. The Colonies is an exploration of collective memory, addressing issues of dislocation, abandonment, and borders shifting beyond tongue and national identity.

Mira’s work gives “clarity and vividness” to the 77 sonnets in the collection, and through “clean and stunning” translations, she brings Rózycki’s poetic vision to English language readers.

Computational Methods for Physics, by Joel Franklin ’97, associate professor of physics at Reed (Cambridge University Press, 2013). In his new textbook, Joel presents numerical techniques for solving familiar physical problems where a complete solution is inaccessible using traditional mathematical methods. The techniques are clearly laid out, with a focus on the logic and applicability of the method. The same problems are revisited multiple times using different techniques, so readers can easily compare the methods. The book features more than 250 end-of-chapter exercises, and Joel has prepared a web component for the book on his Reed faculty page, people.reed .edu/~jfrankli/Book/Book.html. His previous book, Advanced Mechanics and General Relativity, was published by Cambridge University Press in 2010.

Byrd, by Kerry McCarthy ’97 (Oxford University Press, 2013).

Kerry’s biography, written for Oxford’s Master Musicians Series, takes a new look at the music and life of William Byrd, the foremost composer under the reign of Elizabeth I and James I, whose masses, motets, polyphonic songs, and works for keyboard and instrumental consort rank among the most inspired works of the late Renaissance. The book traces Byrd’s influence on English musicians of the early baroque, explores the paradoxes of his life and career as a devout and influential Catholic in the service of the English Protestant establishment, and examines his close ties to the Elizabethan and Jacobean literary world. “A detailed, fresh, and readable account of a composer who was revered by his colleagues as ‘our Phoenix’ and a ‘Father of Music,’ Byrd is essential reading for scholars, students, and performers of early music, as well as general readers interested in the musical world of Renaissance England.” An associate professor of musicology at Duke, Kerry developed her passion for Byrd’s music at Reed while working with Virginia Oglesby Hancock ’62, professor of music.

The Aversive Clause, by B. Carter Edwards ’98 (Black Lawrence Press, 2013).

Carter’s first collection of short stories, The Aversive Clause, was awarded the 2011 Hudson Prize for fiction. Says one reviewer: “Like a cross between Etgar Keret and Harlan Ellison, Edwards has an affinity for the fantastic, but an even greater proficiency for being really readable. This is the kind of book where you think you’ll hunt and peck throughout the collection, seeing which titles in the table of contents catch your eye, but once you start in on the first story, you just read them all straight through.” Carter has published the chapbook To Mend Small Children in 2012 and has two publications in the wings, a novella and a full-length collection of poetry. He is a regular contributor to BOMBlog, FAQNP, and the Brooklyn Review. Read some of his recent work in Red Line Blues, Lyre Lyre, the Sink Review, Food I Corp, and Hobart, which nominated him for a 2012 Pushcart Prize. (See Class Notes.)

Artemidorus’ Oneirocritica, by Dan Harris-McCoy ’02 (Oxford University Press, 2012). A guide to prophecy through dreams written in Greek in the 2nd century CE is now available with facing English translation, a detailed introduction, and scholarly commentary, in Dan’s new publication. Seeking to demonstrate the richness and intelligence of this understudied text, he gives particular emphasis to Oneirocritica’s composition and construction, and its aesthetic, intellectual, and political foundations and context. “Should anyone require dream-analysis, a copy is available in Reed’s Hauser Library.” (See Class Notes.)

Dark Chatter, by Andrew Branch ’09 (Grappling Book, 2013). Andrew’s first novel, written in the style of French novelist Boris Vian, introduces readers to Quicklime Petterson, who is stalled in a postcollege daze until he is prompted to write a porn script for a policeman in exchange for being cleared of an arrest charge. Media frenzy for the script rises as a tween star takes interest in it.

When the would-be one-off deal threatens to become a vocation, Quicklime attempts to find the honest career he meant to start after college. Grappling Book is Andrew’s own publishing company. (See Class Notes.)

september 2013 Reed magazine 43

In Memoriam Force of Nature Prof. Stephen W. Arch [biology 1972–2012]

April 7, 2013, while vacationing in Colorado with his wife and friends.

Professor, mentor, scientist, and athlete, Steve Arch was a monumental presence in the biology department for four decades. Born in 1942 in Los Angeles, the first of two sons of postmaster Ernest Arch and Elaine Wagner, he grew up in Reno, Nevada. Standing six feet two and weighing in at 255 pounds, he was a natural athlete. He threw shotput and played lineback and fullback for Stanford University in his undergrad years. His prowess on the gridiron drew the attention of professional clubs, and the Chicago Bears invited him to training camp.

He decided instead to build on the AB he had earned from Stanford in 1964 and went on to complete a PhD at the University of Chicago.

Following the passage of the Civil Rights Act, he traveled to Mississippi to register disenfranchised voters. He also stood toe-to-toe with National Guardsmen at the 1968 Democratic National Convention in Chicago. Among his many achievements during this time was his marriage to Elizabeth, his girlfriend from his sophomore year in college, whom he met in biology lab.

At Reed, he specialized in cellular neurophysiology, working primarily with the sea slug Aplysia californica. He lectured widely around the United States and the world, and published and presented many papers. He was appointed the Laurens N. Ruben Professor of Biology in 1995 and served as department chair in 1994–96.

“He had the most elegant scientific mind I have encountered,” wrote Melanie Deal ’87.

Daniel Korenblum ’99 notes, “His honest, empirical approach to research and his aversion to prejudice and over-interpretation, and his insistence on fact-based deductive reasoning were deeply ingrained; this rubbed off on his students and showed in his relationships with other professors, who always seemed to treat him with deep respect, if not reverence.”

“Steve was my academic and thesis adviser,” writes Michael Hoppa ’04, “although it was in his 400 level seminar in neurophysiology and molecular physiology where Steve was really at his best, bringing his vast depth of knowledge to bear on the primary literature with enthusiasm and rigor. He was an expert at prodding everyone in the class to take in the big picture of biology and the intellectual consequences 54 Reed magazine september 2013

of our statements. This class changed my life, and it is why I study neurobiology. In fact, it was so good I signed up a second time without credit. I will really miss Steve and will always be thankful for his humor, intelligence, and candor.”

“Steve was a kind of second thesis adviser to me as I was writing my thesis in the psych department,” writes David Gatta ’05. “He was more than that to me, though. He was a mentor and an inspiration. I’ll never forget those frank discussions over beer in his office. He is truly one of those professors that I will always remember because I am a better person and a better thinker having known him.”

Arch retired in 2012. “The decision to retire did not come easily. But Arch did not want his love for teaching to cloud the perception of his effectiveness,” wrote Kevin Myers, director of communications, in Arch’s retirement announcement. At his retirement, Prof. Janis

“ The best feeling is knowing when you’ve been instrumental in turning somebody’s intellectual light on.”

—Steve Arch Shampay [biology 1990– ] remarked, “He is a larger-than-life figure. He’s the quintessential professor.”

“You never have any doubt where Steve stands on an issue,” said Prof. David Dalton [biology 1987–]. “He has a strong personality that manifests in a strong will when it comes to adherence to high standards.”

Arch kept up his athletic prowess by jogging and playing basketball in the sports center. Some of the Noon Basketballers have been playing together longer than most current students have been alive. Even at the age of 70, he rarely missed a game. “It hasn’t been the same these past few months,” said Myers, who attests to the spirit of camaraderie that prevailed when Arch was on the court. “There are fewer laughs with Steve gone, but also fewer bruises. He had a powerful presence on and off the court.”

Daniel Walker ’07, who ran into Arch’s rampart-like picks on the court more than a few times, remembered that Arch played basketball like he taught—“tough but fair.”

Arch won numerous fellowships, grants, and awards and advised 196 seniors in their thesis work—approximately 50 of whom went on to careers in research and medicine. Oregon Health & Science University’s Medical Research Foundation formally recognized his leadership ability and dedication to mentoring students when it accorded him its Mentor Award in 2008, citing his “rigorous scientific practice, while directly mentoring research students and providing leadership in the biology department’s educational mission.”

At home, he was a master of the kitchen, cooking nightly dinners, baking sourdough, canning and pickling, and brewing beer. He also was a voracious reader and loved spending time outdoors, particularly at the family’s house in Neahkahnie on the Oregon coast.

He is survived by Elizabeth, his wife of 49 years; his daughters, Xan and Tori; his grandson, Leo; his brother, Dennis, and family; and many loving friends.

Nelda Vivien Butt Goetzl Stage ’38

February 27, 2013, in Corvallis, Oregon.

Nelda studied at Reed for one year. She and Edmund H. Goetzl ’36, an editor with the Oregon Journal, were married and had two daughters. They owned the Lucky Horseshoe Dude Ranch in Republic, Washington, until 1980, when they sold the business and moved to Colville, Washington. Edmund died in 1986.

Nelda later married George Stage. She also worked for the Poorman-Douglas Corporation in Portland. In 2007, at 90, Nelda decided to move into a retirement community, she told Reed, as she was finally ready to “let someone else do the work.”

Katharine Marie Saremal Cornwell ’40 March 4, 2013, in Brooklyn, New York.

Katharine was one of three daughters born to William Saremal, a partner in the contracting firm that built many of the bridges and tunnels along the Columbia River Highway. After studying at Reed for two years, she transferred to Oregon State College and received a BA in home economics. During World War II, she served as an officer in the Women’s Army Corps, writing daily intelligence summaries.

After the war, she worked on a bomb damage survey, utilizing the ENIAC computer at Princeton—an experience that fueled her interest in mathematics. Katharine continued her formal education at Columbia, earning an MA in English literature, and did further study at the University of Iowa writer’s workshop. To complete a doctorate degree, she traveled to Austria; while living in Vienna, she “got entangled” in work for a U.S. Army intelligence unit.

“After a few years, disillusionment set in,” and she returned to Princeton. Next she went to the University of Wisconsin in Madison, where she met Bruce Cornwell, whom she married in 1956.

Katharine and Bruce were pioneers in computer animation, producing dozens of short films about mathematics during a 30-year career. In the early years, they lived with their two sons in a 19th-century stone house that they renovated in Prairie du Sac, Wisconsin. A studio adjoined the home. Their films included Journey to the Center of a Triangle and New Math, done for the Mathematical Association of America.

“We won several international awards, but, alas, very little money.” During summers, they led workshops on filming mathematical concepts at Stanford. Later they moved to New York, where Katharine worked as a consultant specializing in corporate pension planning for Peat Marwick and Bruce taught at the New School, the Polytechnic Institute of Brooklyn, and the School of Visual Arts. In their “spare time,” they created a series of hands-on computer films for the Children’s Museum of Brooklyn. In retirement, Katharine was a garden guide for the

Brooklyn Botanic Garden, where Bruce managed a computer-mapping project. “Always in my peripatetic life, Reed has been a strong influence,” she wrote. “My years at Reed have shaped the quality of my life (and that of my sons), if not its direction. And, always, the most interesting people I meet turn out to be Reed alums.

Thank you, Reed.” Survivors include two sons and a grandson; Bruce died in 2012.

Anita Cadonau Birkland ’41 April 3, 2013, in Portland.

Anita and her brother, Carl H. Cadonau ’43, both graduates of Reed and Phi Beta Kappa, were born to Swiss immigrants Henry Carl Cadonau and Rosina Streiff. Henry and Rosina began delivering milk from their dairy, which they later named Alpenrose, in southwest Portland in 1891. Anita met Raymond Birkland at the Foursquare Church when she was 14 and he was 19. They married in 1938 and worked together at Alpenrose Dairy until 1959, when they moved to Anaheim to operate a franchise of the Original Pancake House. Always interested in advancing her education, Anita built on her BA in general literature by earning an MA in English from California State College, Fullerton. She then earned a second MA, in comparative literature, and, at age 65, completed a PhD in history and European studies at Claremont Graduate School. Taking pleasure in discovery and travel throughout her life, she visited over 135 countries, some in the role of tour leader and guide. She volunteered with the World Affairs Council and was a member of AAUW. Anita and Raymond returned to Portland in 2000; Raymond was in ill health and died two years later. Anita was a regular at Foster-Scholz Club events and a dedicated member of the Portland chapter alumni book group, along with longtime friend Ethel Fahlen Noble ’40. She attended Greek theatre performances in the Cerf amphitheatre and studied Arabic at Portland Community College.

Survivors include her sons, four grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren.

Robert Edward Taylor ’42

February 27, 2013, in Northampton, Massachusetts.

Robert’s passion for French language and literature began when he read Victor Hugo’s novel Les Misérables as a teenager. He earned a BA in general literature at Reed, describing the experience as “a very rich (and everlasting) beginning.” During the war, he enlisted in the army air corps and served in the South Pacific. In 1951, he completed a PhD in French from Columbia University, specializing in 18th-century literature, and taught at New York University before joining the faculty in Romance languages at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst.

He became head of the department in 1963, received the Ordre des Palmes Académiques in 1967, and retired as professor emeritus in 1992.

Robert and Naomi Klatt ’43 married and had one son; they parted in 1961. He then married Olga Zazuliak; they welcomed a daughter in 1964. Survivors include his wife and daughter. His son predeceased him.

Jacob Avshalomov ’43, LHD ’73 April 25, 2013, at home in Portland.

Jacob was the son of musician and composer Aaron Avshalomov, who fled Russia at the outset of the Revolution, and Esther Magidson, whom Aaron met on a sojourn in San Francisco, returning with her to Tsingtao, China, where Jacob was born in 1919. During his childhood, Jacob attended more than a dozen schools; learned to speak fluent English, Chinese, Russian, and French; showed early promise in music; and was the fancy diving champion of north China. When his parents separated, Jacob lived with his mother but stayed in contact with his father (and later recorded some of his father’s compositions).

At age 14, and a high school graduate, Jacob took a job in a Chinese factory to help support his mother. He enlisted with a British volunteer corps following Japan’s invasion of China during the Second Sino-Japanese War, and later in 1937 moved with his mother to San Francisco.

Through family connections, he began his studies with composer Ernst Toch in Los Angeles and connected with Jacques and Lucia Gershkovitch, who led the Portland Junior Symphony. The Gershkovitches invited Jacob to live with them in Portland, where James Hamilton [admission director 1934–58] admitted him on the strength of his “Why Reed?” essay. “I had no high school graduation papers—they were all left in war-torn China, and I’d been out of school for a lifetime,” he said in an interview in 2008.

Although Jacob’s early training focused on the piano, Jacques Gershkovitch started him on percussion in the Junior Symphony and then switched him to cello. There he made friends with oboist Bill Lamont ’41. At a postconcert session with Bill at violist Max Felde’s home, Max’s sister arrived—a “beautiful girl in a crimson dress.” She was Doris Felde ’43 (MA ’63), fellow musician, poet, and printer, whom Jacob married in 1943. Highlights of Reed for Jacob included time with Doris and classes and projects with Lloyd Reynolds [English & art, 1929– 69], who also introduced them to the joys of calligraphy; Rex Arragon [history 1923–62]; Kay Stuurman [English and drama 1938–42]; and Harold Sproul [music 1938–43]. Jacob was paid 50 cents an hour to compose and revise music for Stuurman’s theatre productions (notably, Cues from the Little Clay Cart) and for Sproul’s classes. “Another of my favorite professors was F.L. Griffin [mathematics 1911–54].

He made things so, so clear that you wondered why you hadn’t thought of it yourself.”

Jacob never forgot his time on campus. “It gave me a feeling of intellectual solidity. The two september 2013 Reed magazine 55

In Memoriam years that I had there, the humanities courses that I took—it made me feel as though I knew what civilization was about. I knew where to look for what I needed. I never felt at sea.” He left Reed after his sophomore year to study with composer Bernard Rogers at the Eastman School of Music. Following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, he joined the U.S. Army and was stationed in London (where he somehow found time to conduct English madrigal groups and an international chorus). He later transferred to Washington, D.C., where he worked for the Office of Strategic Services as a translator. He briefly considered a career in that field, but chose to pursue music after receiving a fellowship at Columbia University and a position on the music faculty (1946–54). There he taught theory and composition and founded the Collegiate Chorale, with which he presented some notable premieres. Over several summers, he taught at Reed, the University of Washington, Tanglewood, Northwestern University, the University of Illinois, and the Aspen School of Music. Summers were also his time for composing his own works. Jacob and Doris welcomed two sons, David and Daniel, in New York. Both became professional musicians.

In February 1954, Jacob came to Portland to conduct the Junior Symphony’s 20th anniversary concert. Four months later, he accepted the post of music director, succeeding Jacques Gershkovitch, who had died. Jacob led this fine youth orchestra, later renamed the Portland Youth Philharmonic, for an astonishing 41 years.

The orchestra recorded many works and made tours of Europe, Japan, and Korea, in addition to bringing an appreciation of the rewards and discipline of making music to thousands of young players in the Pacific Northwest. Mr. A, as he was known, worked with more than 4,000 students, heard over 10,000 auditions, and conducted 640 concerts. He saw the work as a way to make a contribution to and create involvement in a community. He commissioned works from many distinguished composers and invited many of the Pacific Northwest choruses to perform with the orchestra. Jacob pointed to his years at Reed as providing “a great sense of strength” for his teaching at Columbia and his work with the symphony. He was a perfectionist in his role as mentor, and young musicians thrived within the setting. He instilled discipline and dedication in keeping with a favorite saying: Res severa est verum gaudium. (“Serious things are the true joy.”) When it came time to perform, he always encouraged the musicians to “respond to the moment.” Members of the Portland Youth Philharmonic issued a statement at the time of Jacob’s death, noting that no single person cared more or did more to preserve the orchestra for future generations than did Jacob. “His legacy includes not only 56 Reed magazine september 2013

Composer of note (and notes). Jacob Avshalomov ’43, pictured with his wife, Doris Felde Avshalomov ’43, in 1973.

the alumni who performed with him, but all of those who have followed and will continue to follow.” Jacob wrote several books, including Avshalomovs’ Winding Way: Composers out of China—a tale of father and son composers as they pursued their ideals in the Far East and across America—and Tripping on Oriental Rugs: A Fifty-Year Passion, which described his enchantment with hand-woven and -knotted Oriental rugs through the five decades he spent searching, buying, selling, swapping, and restoring them. (He viewed his collection of rugs as works of art and noted their relationship to the designs of classical music.) He also produced two versions of Music is Where You Make It and The Concerts Reviewed. Building on the musical training with his father, Toch, and Gershkovitch, Jacob also worked with Bernard Rogers and Aaron Copland. He served on the National Humanities Council (1968–74) and the Music Planning Section of the National Arts Endowment (1977–79). His compositions have been heard throughout the world and brought him a Guggenheim Fellowship, the New York Music Critics Circle Award, the Naumburg Recording Award, and the Alice M. Ditson Conductor’s Award, among others. He was recognized as a Portland First Citizen and honored by the Portland Center for the Performing Arts Foundation for his outstanding contributions to Portland’s art community. He also received the Portland Youth Philharmonic’s highest honor, the Mary V. Dodge Lifetime Achievement Award for Alumni. Reed recognized Jacob’s many achievements and contributions by conferring on him the honorary degree of Doctor of Humane Letters in 1973. Commissioned

by Herb Gladstone [music 1946–80], Jacob

wrote a composition for the 75th anniversary of the college and performed it at Reed with members of the orchestra. Jacob’s compositions included chamber music and music for orchestra, chorus, keyboard, stage, and voice and piano. His choral music achieved national recognition. His work, which has been described as eloquent, thrilling, finely wrought, inventive, and full of vitality, contains within it “the presence of that deeper spring from which a real creative gift draws life.” Survivors include Doris, David, Daniel, and grandsons Jesse and Zachary (also trained musicians).

Richard William Babson ’43 March 16, 2013, in Portland.

Bill grew up in a home where music was central to family life. His mother was an accomplished pianist and vocalist and directed Bill’s study of violin and piano during his childhood. As an adult, he performed on cello with the Oregon Symphony and founded several chamber music groups. He was a natural athlete and a lefty. He favored racquet sports, excelling in regional competitions in badminton and tennis even into his 80s. Bill also was an artist who worked in watercolor and did sculpture. He possessed great energy and a great sense of humor. During the one year he studied at Reed, he met Jean McCall ’42, sister of former Oregon governor Tom McCall. He then did military service during World War II, first in Nome, Alaska, and then with General

Patton’s Third Army in Normandy, at the Battle of the Bulge, and in the occupation of Germany.

Bill and Jean were reunited after the war and married in 1947. They raised a son and two daughters. Bill owned and operated Peerless Pacific Company, which offered wholesale heating, refrigeration, industrial, water works, and plumbing supplies. Under his direction, the business expanded into numerous cities in Oregon and Washington. “Bill was creative and original in his views on most subjects,” said his family. “He valued the individual over the group, celebrated rebellious behavior and nonconformity, and carried a lifelong mistrust of ‘groupthink,’ whether he saw it in corporations, labor unions, government, or the military.” Survivors include his son, Stephen, and daughter Ann, and four grandchildren. Jean, who was a committed volunteer for the college, a nationally recognized community activist working on behalf of children, and a member of the Reed board of trustees, died in 1987. Bill was also predeceased by his daughter Jeannie.

Remembrances may be directed to the Jean Babson Student Life Discretionary Fund at Reed.

presented him with the Evans Award for professional achievement and humanitarian service in 1994, and the Ricks Center for Gifted Children at the university established the William Burchtel Collister Alumni Achievement Award in 2006. Bill and Alice Anderson married in 1961; they visited more than 50 countries and all continents but one. Additionally, Bill owned a library containing hundreds of books and read them all. Survivors include Alice, two brothers, and a sister.

Dorothy Gertrude Cottrell Coppock ’43

Jean Ainslie Kalahan ’47

February 12, 2013, in Beaverton, Oregon.

Dorothy came to Reed from Utah and earned a BA in biology. She also met Ross H. Coppock ’42; they married shortly before he began military duty in Italy. Dorothy cofounded West Hills Preschool in Portland and also taught at the school. Later she worked as a real estate agent and broker. She enjoyed duplicate bridge and was an exceptional quilt maker and wood carver.

“Her beautiful smile and playful sense of humor will be greatly missed.” Survivors include Ross, 2 daughters, a son, 5 grandchildren, 10 greatgrandchildren, and 2 sisters, including Patricia Cottrell Spencer ’47. Her brother, Gordon Cottrell ’50, also graduated from Reed.

William Burchtel Collister AMP ’44

February 11, 2013, in Denver, Colorado.

Bill grew up in Colorado and Iowa, the son of a circuit-riding Methodist minister and an emigrant from the Isle of Man who worked in rough, mountainous gold and silver mining towns. Bill studied at Reed in the premeteorology program, and after World War II earned a bachelor’s degree from the School of Political Science and International Affairs at Princeton. After completing a law degree at the University of Denver, he worked as a landman in Montana, Wyoming, and North and South Dakota, researching titles and negotiating oil and gas leases. He practiced law in Denver in the area of oil and gas for more than 50 years, serving an inspiration to countless people in his profession and his community. The University of Denver alumni association

William Reap Geiger ’47

April 19, 2013, in Portland.

Bill arrived at Reed from Franklin High School at the age of 15 and attended the college for a year. He transferred to Willamette University and then earned a BS in biology and a DMD from the University of Oregon. He served in the army, was a member of the Gold Foil Society, volunteered with the YMCA, and read voraciously. He also enjoyed skiing and hiking in the Cascades. Bill and Donna L. Zochert married in 1976 and raised a son and daughter.

Survivors include his children and four grandchildren. Donna died in 2006.

April 13, 2013, in Tacoma, Washington.

Jean grew up in Portland and studied for more than two years at Reed. In 1950, she married Clyde R. Kalahan, who became a vice president for the Weyerhauser Company in Washington.

Jean devoted her time to caring for her home and raising three daughters, including Deborah Kalahan Altschul ’75. She also was a dedicated community volunteer for organizations such as the Children’s Industrial Home (Gateways for Youth and Families), the Dr. Edward S. Rich Orthopedic Guild, the Tacoma Art Museum, and the altar guilds at Christ and St. Mary’s Episcopal churches. She was a member of the Nine Hole Group at the Tacoma Country and Golf Club, and enjoyed playing bridge, gardening, and listening to the Mariners baseball games on the radio. “Her family will miss her astute observations as well as her great cooking.” Survivors include her husband, her daughters, and six grandchildren.

Richard Abel ’48

April 17, 2013, in Portland.

Known today as the father of the modern-day library approval plan, Richard came to the college from Great Falls, Montana. His mother held a master’s degree in mathematics from Berkeley, and his father was an attorney and owner of a cattle ranch. Books were greatly valued by the Abel family, as was music, coming into the home via the radio or live on stage when touring companies came to town. In his youth, Richard drove cattle on horseback and spent evenings absorbed in reading a diverse selection of books. He came to Reed to study physics, but was led to the study

of history through humanities coursework. In his first year, Richard found a suitable job at the Reed College Co-op, then selling textbooks, school supplies, cigarettes, candy, ice cream, and soda. He approached Almalee Stewart ’47, co-op manager, who agreed to hire him. Very soon thereafter, Richard proposed selling trade books to students and was given the role of book buyer.

“I brought in as many books as Almalee would let me spend dollars on,” he said in an interview in 2005. “She was nervous as could be that I was using up all the money that was in her bank.

Well, the books all sold out in a couple of weeks.”

In his sophomore year, Richard became co-op manager, buying books and running the store.

He cultivated his interest in music, listening to recordings for hours in Capehart in Winch with Katherine F. Ferguson ’48, whom he met in his first year. They enjoyed many hours walking and talking about music. “It was one of those things that you’re looking for when you’re contemplating a long-term relationship.” Richard and Katherine married in their junior year, and Richard gave up the co-op management to assist with the arrival and care of their daughter, Kit (Katherine), who was born in their senior year.

After graduation, Richard entered a graduate program in history at the University of California, Berkeley. Two years later, he determined that teaching jobs were sparse and accepted an offer to return to Reed to manage the bookstore and also the coffee shop. The bookstore was without financial resources and was selling batteries and tires under the heading of supplies. “The books that were left were just trash. The whole operation had to be restarted.” He succeeded in making the bookstore a viable business, and in 1956, he also founded Reed College Bookstore, Inc., a subsidiary to the co-op that sold scholarly books to libraries and academic institutions. september 2013 Reed magazine 57

In Memoriam During that time, he created the Reed College Movie Club, raising money to purchase equipment and rent films for programs in the Chapel.

“I did my ‘gofering’ jobs for E.B. MacNaughton [president 1942–58]. One of the things that I had to do was raise money. The college had very little more money in the bank than I had at the bookstore!” In 1952, he began the Champoeg Press with Lloyd Reynolds [English & art, 1929– 69] in order to produce reprint editions of rare books on western Americana. “Lloyd had developed this interest in calligraphy and letterforms, and that just automatically takes you into type.”

Dorothy Johansen ’33 [history 1934–84] came aboard as editor, and others assisted with typography. Everyone helped with hand binding the copies they produced on a Chandler & Price 12 x 18 press on the fourth floor of Eliot Hall, where Reynolds had his graphic arts workshop. “Then we spent every evening of a very hot summer— there was no air conditioning in Eliot, as you know—printing off the very first book, A Day with the Cow Column in 1843. I had the marketing job. Well, fortunately I had some connections around town, and the crazy little book sold out in about two months.” Interest in the press waned as Reynolds focused more on calligraphy, and Richard decided to continue on his own, using the services of a typesetter in the Bay Area.

Meanwhile, the now-lucrative bookstore and bookselling business were hit hard by IRS regulations, and Richard left Reed in 1960, having purchased the bookselling portion. He changed the name to Richard Abel Bookseller. A decade later, the company was the predominant international dealer in scholarly and scientific books in English, as well as in German, French, Spanish, and other languages, with more than a dozen offices in the U.S., Canada, Europe, Australia, and South America. Richard spent hours at home at night with bibliographies, checking books.

“We hired catalogers. We had a lot of librarians on the staff, and we had a big cataloging section. So, we started sending these undergraduate libraries in with a full catalog, all processed with spine labels, circulation pockets and cards, etc., so all they had to do was put the books on the shelf and open the doors.” One customer, the University of Washington, began its undergraduate library through the company, lining new and empty shelves with his selection of 10,000 books.

Richard managed the company until 1975, when it was sold to Blackwell North America. Then he founded and managed International Scholarly Book Services, a library approval plan, and several publishing partnerships, such as the Timber Press and Dioscorides Press, devoted to botanical publications, and Amadeus Press, which evolved from his love of music. He also began a history imprint, Areopagitica, with Dick Jones [history 1941–86], who had been his thesis adviser, as the general editor. “Then I had my third heart 58 Reed magazine september 2013

attack and it pretty near got me.” Following doctor’s orders, he sold the publishing firms and became the business manager for the school Kit founded, later known as Arbor School, in Tualatin, Oregon. He also served on the Oregon State Board of Forestry and the boards of OMSI and the Oregon School of Arts and Crafts, and was chair of the Oregon Governor’s Committee on Small Woodlands. In 2008, Richard received the Jack D. Rittenhouse Award for his contributions to the community of the book in the West.

And, in 2011, he wrote The Gutenberg Revolution: A History of Print Culture, in which he determined the source of the Renaissance in the late 15th century. “What the Renaissance is really about is the book and the printing of massive copies, or comparatively massive copies, of 300 to 750—copies of an identical text. But now, all of a sudden all kinds of minds can focus on not just one text, which was often corrupted. Gutenberg invented a giant knowledge-generation machine engine. All this other stuff that they talk about in my judgment is not what the Renaissance is about. It’s about the printed book and the knowledge-generation engine, of which the book is the focus.” The value Richard assigned to the book— exemplified by his role with every facet of the book—led him to this assertion of Johannes Gutenberg’s role, he said. “I don’t think I could have gone into the book trade if I didn’t think that books were so darn important. I came to Reed thinking that books were important. Reed certainly reinforced that. As I say, I was an autodidact. I just used that library at Reed heavily.” In notifying the college of Richard’s death, Kit said, “He was so proud of his time there—as a student and bookman.” Survivors include Katherine, and daughters Kit and Corinne.

Daniel Morton Bachman ’49 November 9, 2012, in Portland.

Daniel’s studies at Reed were interrupted by World War II, but he returned to the college on the G.I. Bill, graduating Phi Beta Kappa with a BA in chemistry. After graduation, he took a clinical clerkship at St. Mary’s Hospital Medical School in London, England, then returned to Portland to work at the UniversityState Tuberculosis Hospital for meals and a bed; he earned an MD and an MS in physiology from University of Oregon Medical School.

He interned at George Washington University Hospital, did his residency in internal medicine at Louisville General Hospital, then worked as a clinical and research fellow at Massachusetts General Hospital. “For the first time since leaving Reed, I felt again at home. The golden age of medicine was taking place in the U.S. at that time, and some of the most talented and accomplished people in medicine were on the scene.”

At the hospital, he met Judith Gold MAT ’71, whom he married. Daniel joined the faculty at the University of Oregon Medical School in 1956, where he was instrumental in creating

the first rheumatology division; he became a full professor and head of rheumatology. In 1968, he left the school to go to Ramatuelle in southern France with Judith and their three children.

The family lived in France for nine months and traveled throughout Europe, “soaking up history and art like dry sponges.” In Florence, Daniel viewed firsthand the art that Rex Arragon [history 1923–74] had presented in a classroom slide show, and throughout their travels he found that Lloyd Reynolds’ [English & art 1929–69] classes “pointed the way to enjoyment.” Back in Portland, Daniel opened a private practice in rheumatology and internal medicine that extended to more than 17 years.

“I went into private practice with an open mind, aware of, but unfettered by, academic dogma.”

In addition, Daniel learned to fly light aircraft at the age of 40. “It added a new dimension to my perceptions. My medical professional work was done up close, looking at surfaces, looking through the microscope, etc. Flying involved looking far into the distance, anticipating, and being patient.” When he retired from his practice in 1987, he spent time reading, traveling, and reviving his interest in playing piano. In 1988, he “emerged from the cocoon of retirement” and embarked on a third career as a physician specialist at the Eastern Oregon Psychiatric and Training Centers in Pendleton, Oregon; he retired finally in 2008. In her remembrance of Daniel, Judith wrote: “Dan made the archetypal American journey. Born of immigrant parents, he discovered a world where ideas and imagination reigned at Reed College. It was a transformative experience; one he remained grateful for.” His medical career—research, teaching, and practice—says Judith, demonstrated the highest level of competence, ethical standards, and dedication to service. “His passion for learning, independent cast of mind, and capacity for wonder at the natural world have been passed on to his three children.” Survivors include Judith, sons Tovey (’78) and Nathaniel (Reed, 1979– 80), and daughter Elizabeth.

Richard Elmer Nelson ’50 March 18, 2013, in Anacortes, Washington.

During World War II, Dick enlisted with the Army Air Corps and served in the 16th Weather Squadron. He studied at Reed for two years and completed a BA in chemistry at Oregon State College in 1949. That same year, he married Joyce L. Holen ’50; they raised a son and daughter. Dick worked as a resin chemist with American Marietta and also was employed with Georgia Pacific and U.S. Plywood. He and Joyce lived for many years in Rock Hill, South Carolina. He retired as vice president of operations and manager of the Catawba Hardboard plant in Catawba, South Carolina, in 1987. Following that, Dick and Joyce returned to the Pacific Northwest and enjoyed a home in Anacortes with a view of

John T. Braun MAT ’54

March 6, 2013, in Vancouver, Washington, at 91, from lung complications following cancer surgery.

Len Kampf ’51 receives his 10-year pin from George Prestwich, vice president for RCA, in 1971.

the San Juan Islands, the surrounding waters, and gorgeous sunsets. They also enjoyed travel abroad and time spent with their children and grandchildren at their cabin in a remote part of British Columbia. Dick is survived by Joyce; their daughter, Janis, and son, Craig; and four grandchildren.

Leonard Charles Kampf ’51

April 17, 2013, in Mount Laurel, New Jersey.

Len joined the U.S. Army Air Forces during World War II and flew planes over Europe.

After the war, he earned a BA from Reed in economics, graduating Phi Beta Kappa. He spent a year at Johns Hopkins in the School of Advanced International Studies and nine years with the CIA, two of them in the United Kingdom. He joined defense contractor RCA Corp. and retired after 24 years as manager of marketing information and communications for the government systems division.

Len maintained his service as an officer in the air force reserves, retiring as a colonel. He was married to Stuart Elizabeth Hoffman ’52. They raised two sons and a daughter and enjoyed annual vacations in West Palm Beach, Florida. In retirement, Len gardened, played golf, and traveled throughout the U.S. with his daughter. He took pleasure in returning to the Reed campus, reconnecting with classmates, and attending Reunions. Len said that he took pride in being able to complete his undergraduate studies at Reed and associating with a “superior” faculty and student group.

Survivors include his wife and children, four grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren.

Richard Martin Tisinger Jr. ’51 January 28, 2013, Los Alamos, New Mexico, from pancreatic cancer.

Richard moved with his family from his childhood home in Arizona to Oregon during World War II. He graduated from Reed in physics, writing the thesis “Theory and Construction of a Torsion Seisometer.” Following a year of advanced study at the University of Washington, he went to work at the Los Alamos Scientific Laboratory in New Mexico. Many years later, he earned a PhD in nuclear physics from Johns Hopkins University and then worked at Los Alamos in nuclear physics, transitioning later in his career to software development in database management and material accountability.

Richard was active with the United Church of Los Alamos, the Red Cross, the Retirees Group of the Los Alamos Lab, and the Los Alamos Ski Patrol. He was an Eagle Scout and volunteered for the Boy Scouts of America. He traveled to all 50 U.S. states and to other countries in North America, as well as to Central America, Europe, and Asia. He and Ellen Goodell were married for 45 years until her death in 2000. Survivors include daughter Karen, who provided the details for this memorial piece; two sons, Rick and Eric; seven grandchildren; and a sister. “He was a wonderful father and will be missed.”

Ted majored in philosophy and sociology at Elmhurst College in Elmhurst, Illinois, and served in the Army Medical Corps during World War II. Postwar, he earned a master’s degree in philosophy and theology at Union Theological Seminary in New York, where he studied with Paul Tillich and Reinhold Niebuhr.

He focused on economics and sociology in his subsequent studies at Cornell. In 1949, he moved to Frogpond, Oregon, to be pastor of the Meridian United Church of Christ. He came to Reed to study psychology and the philosophy of education and wrote a master’s thesis under Ed Garlan [philosophy 1946–73] on the work of John Dewey. As he later wrote: “A humanist, Dewey nevertheless was something of a mystic, I argued, in his reverence for the value of direct experience of nature through work and through the sheer immediacy of scientific awareness. A sense of transcendence was implied, although he shared the humanists’ abhorrence of dualism.” Ted also enjoyed Lloyd Reynolds’ [English & art 1929–69] “leftist take on American history.” Ted went on to earn a PhD in modern British literature at University of Washington and joined the faculty in English at Lewis & Clark.

His Lewis & Clark colleagues noted: “Ted’s intellectual breadth and experimental approach to learning were facets of his inspired teaching.”

One course Ted taught came about after he had successfully constructed a Greek lyre and learned to chant Homeric poetry—the course involved making instruments for the purpose of interpreting poetry through performance. “Materials for the course included a vise, plane, saber saw, hand drill, knives, chisels, scrapers, files, rawhide, white and yellow cedar, shellac, gourds, gut, nylon strings, and ‘junk,’ in Ted’s words. With their handcrafted instruments, he and his students explored the ‘the radical inscape’ of poetries, both ancient and modern.” Students lingered for hours in Ted’s office at Lewis & Clark, and he, likewise, was open and curious with those he encountered in his life, whether as a student, pastor, teacher, friend, philosopher, traveler, mentor, or, finally, as a hospital patient.

“He was always ready to confront the mysteries of life.” Ted published The Apostrophic Gesture and self-published Anguispira Oracularis. He wrote a memoir for his family and also collected his thoughts in a great store of notebooks.

Ted and Alice, his beloved wife of 69 years, transformed a rustic space on Orcas Island, Washington, into a lush garden with a cabin and a home. While living there, Ted played trombone and sousaphone in community bands, september 2013 Reed magazine 59

In Memoriam helped to build the local library’s book collection, and joined land conservation efforts, including the preservation of Madrona Point.

In 2009, the couple moved to Whidbey Island, where Ted played violin in the community orchestra until his 91st year. Enid Braun, who informed the college of her father’s death, wrote, “He was a beautiful man, with an incredible mind, well loved as a father, grandfather, teacher and mentor, and he lived a full life, with a strong social conscience.” Survivors include his wife; two daughters and two sons, six grandchildren, including Ramona Fankhauser ’16; three greatgrandchildren; and his two sisters and two brothers. A memorial site has been created for Ted at tedbraun.forevermissed.com.

Niels Arthur Chew ’55

February 25, 2013, in Sonoma, California.

Niels began his undergrad studies at Dartmouth, leaving school for adventures with the Norwegian Merchant Marine, working on freighters in the North Atlantic. He then came to Reed and studied at the college for two years. Back home in New York City, he joined his father in the food export business. In 1955, he married Susan Wetherby. In the early ’60s, the couple moved to California, where Niels purchased the Miner Tool Company, the foundation for his corporation, Dowling Miner Magnetics. Niels and Susan settled in the Sonoma Valley in 1973, raising a family of four, building the business, and supporting philanthropic efforts in the community. “Niels’ legacy lies in the greatness of his generosity, the depth of his kindness, and his unwavering commitment to volunteerism,” his family wrote. “Ultimately, his greatest joy was his family, his friends, and his community.” Survivors include his wife, two daughters and two sons, and nine grandchildren.

Archie Patterson Buie Jr. ’56 February 12, 2013, in Asheville, North Carolina.

Pat was born in Florida and served as a fighter pilot in the Korean War, flying 81 missions, for which he received the Distinguished Flying Cross. He attended Reed on the G.I. Bill and earned a BA in general literature in just three years. At Reed, he dealt with the “wired” sensation he was experiencing—known now as posttraumatic stress disorder—by fencing. A team composed of Pat, his lifelong friend Dudley Collard ’55, Murdy McNamar ’58, and Tate Minckler ’55 defeated many regional collegiate fencing teams and emerged victorious at the 1955 West Coast Intercollegiate Team Foil Championship. They returned from that competition to the infamously bookish Reed community bearing a three-and-a-half-foot-tall trophy.

“We were given a fairly cool reception, but a more or less quiet one . . .” Pat went on to earn an MS in business from Florida State University.

60 Reed magazine september 2013

Pat Buie ’56 and Dudley Collard ’55 (left, back) observe fencing instructor Jack Nottingham as he makes a point in 1954.

He managed an insurance and real estate business and helped troubled youth through the therapeutic wilderness camps he founded in Florida and North Carolina. “The flood of troubled youth in our nation needs solutions to problems that plague them,” he wrote. “Our youth prisons are only training grounds for a criminal career.” Camps demonstrated success in turning lives around, and he became devoted to the work, assuming positions such as assistant director of Georgia’s Outdoor Therapeutic Program and executive director for the National Association of Therapeutic Wilderness Camps, until Parkinson’s disease forced his retirement in 2001. We learned from Lisa Buie-Collard, Pat’s daughter and Dudley’s daughter-in-law, that Pat taught high school fencing in Florida and coached Dudley’s second son, who became an Olympic fencing coach. He also enjoyed fishing and beekeeping. “His time at Reed was one of the high points of his life,” wrote Lisa. “He loved to talk about it.” Pat lived fully: acting on his convictions, taking risks, and demonstrating his concern and care for others. “He will be sorely missed.” Survivors include 5 children, 12 grandchildren, and 5 great-grandchildren.

Frederick E. McCandless ’56

April 26, 2013, in Mineral Ridge, Ohio.

Fred joined the navy during World War II and had a long and decorated military career both in active and reserve duty, from which he retired four decades later. He earned a BA in political science at Reed and went on to study political science and international relations at Kent State University. Fred and Margaret M. Walsic had two sons. He later married D. Todd Murdock. In retirement, he was appointed to the Weathersfield Township Zoning Commission and to the board of education for the Weathersfield Local School District in

Ohio. “The Reed independent education experience, in conjunction with my navy career, has been instrumental in my integration into the community and to relate to the problems of local education and government,” Fred wrote.

“It’s a great way to volunteer.” Survivors include his wife, sons, a grandson, and two brothers.

Elsa Warnick ’64 March 6, 2013, in Portland.

Elsa came to Portland from Tacoma, Washington, initially intending to study philosophy and literature at Reed.

But when she learned of the five-year degree program that the college offered in conjunction with the Museum Art School (now, Pacific Northwest College of Art), she decided to major in art. “Reed was an extraordinary place for learning, for intellectual discipline, for gaining many tools for processing information, for objective knowledge.” From Lloyd Reynolds [English & art 1929–69] she acquired the confidence to dedicate her life to art. “He was an exemplary craftsman. It’s not the language of his expression that mattered so much, but the manner in which he approached it. I’ve never seen a grown person love his work more.” After completing her education, and while raising her two sons, she maintained a studio for her work in ink and watercolor and exhibited widely in Oregon and Washington. She also taught art and illustration “for the pleasure of the connection with young art students.” She served as art mistress at the Royal Pinner School in Middlesex, England, for a year, and was an instructor at Clark College, at PNCA, and at

Jane Rae Clausen Parker ’68

February 21, 2013, in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada.

Muffin, a watercolor by Elsa Warnick ’64.

Oregon Episcopal School, where she developed the art curriculum and served as chair of the fine arts department. In addition, she directed and taught at the Albina Art Center’s Summer Children’s Workshop in Portland. Elsa worked for a wide variety of commercial and professional clients and illustrated children’s books. This work allowed her to return to her roots, she said, and to experience the joy of interpreting words “without compromise.” Her illustrations for Ride the Wind: Airborne Journeys of Animals and Plants, published in 1997, received acclaim for being “lyrical and sensitive,” “fresh and original,” and founded on integrity of thought and research. Elsa described her art as an affirmation of her personal attitudes and responses. “I choose as subjects any person or object that communicates its ‘particularness’ to me. Just as human and revealing as the people I draw are the manmade objects and their relationships. My responses to those subjects vary, from laughter to awe, to sadness to joy. I draw simply. The processes of observation, selection, and execution of line fascinate me. I isolate the exquisiteness and necessity of each thing I choose to draw.” Survivors include her sons, Matt Erceg and Milan Erceg, and two brothers, Fred Warnick and Jack Warnick ’53. “She had a passion for life and all its wonders, as well as its imperfections.”

Robert Alexander Christie MAT ’67

February 26, 2013, in Tillamook, Oregon.

Bob earned a BA from Humboldt State University before completing the master’s program at Reed.

He moved to Tillamook in 1967, where he taught junior and senior high school mathematics and owned and operated a dairy farm. Bob enjoyed beach walks with his dog and playing cards and tennis, and he relished time spent with his family. Survivors include his wife, Joan, two sons and a daughter, seven grandchildren, a great-granddaughter, two sisters, and a brother.

A native of Everett, Washington, Jane began her studies at Washington State University before transferring to Reed, where she earned a BA in general literature. At Reed, she also met her life partner and great love, William H. Parker ’68; they married before their senior year. After leaving Reed, Jane and Bill moved to Vancouver, British Columbia, to do graduate work at the University of British Columbia.

Jane received a teaching certificate from the university in 1971 and began her career as an English instructor. In 1975, Bill completed his doctoral work in forestry and joined the faculty at Lakehead University in Thunder Bay. Jane also taught English and technical writing and directed the Writing across the Curriculum program for students in natural resources management. Jane possessed a positive attitude, a quick wit, a gift for conversation, and a passion for teaching. In notifying the college of her death, Bill said that Jane also loved spending time at Sea House, her mother’s summer cottage on Whidbey Island, “almost as much as she loved explaining ‘the central allegory’ to someone who would listen.”

One of Bill’s former professors wrote a poem about Jane and the Sea House, “Because Jane Is There,” which expresses the joy and goodwill that Jane brought to the spaces she inhabited and her lingering presence: “Gales of laughter echo through the Sea House constructing new truths. It’s an old fabric, but it must be rewoven for truth to escape.” Jane fought breast cancer for 15 years. Survivors include Bill, a daughter, son, and granddaughter.

Gregg Agins ’75

April 16, 2013, in New York City.

Gregg majored in anthropology, writing the thesis “Clear as Mud: A Linguistic Description of Ambiguous Sentences.” After graduating from Reed, he earned an MBA in marketing management from Portland State University.

He worked in sales information systems as a director for Bantam Doubleday Dell and as a vice president for Random House in New York City. We learned of Gregg’s death from his brother Rand.

Paul Theodore Pojman ’87 September 20, 2012, in Baltimore, Maryland, from lung cancer.

Son of the prominent philosopher Louis Pojman, Paul lived in Denmark, England, and Texas before coming to Reed. After freshman year, he and Chris Lydgate ’90 went to the Holgate Yard and hopped a freight train intending to go to Seattle. Unfortunately, the train was headed the other way and they wound up in Cottage Grove, Oregon, before hitchhiking their way to San Francisco. Paul earned a BA and a master’s degree in philosophy from the University of Mississippi and a PhD from Indiana University. He lived in India for two years and was a Hindu monk for seven years.

He also was a musician, farmer, and strong chess player. He taught philosophy at Towson University in Baltimore and was active in the university’s environmental studies and science programs. Paul edited his father’s popular anthology textbook, Environmental Ethics, and selected a number of his essays for Food Ethics, which he published in 2011. In the introduction, Paul states that the moral standard his father attempted to live by was “the single greatest influence” on his own life and his thinking on environmental matters. As a community activist, Paul volunteered with Red Emma’s collective, the Towson Towerlight newspaper, the Baltimore Green Currency Association, the Baltimore Free School, and the Baltimore Free Farm. In a remembrance of Paul, we read: “Paul defined himself through the commitments he made to his communities. He sought the company of people interested in enormous undertakings— whether investigating the nature of reality or building a better world—and took pride in contributing to projects of lasting scale and scope.”

Survivors include his son, mother, and sister.

James Howard Clark ’88 April 21, 2013, unexpectedly at home in Seattle, Washington.

James grew up in Reno, Nevada, where his mother worked as a librarian and his father as a university professor. He earned a BA from Reed in history, spent some time in Portland, and then traveled through Europe before he enrolled in an MBA program at the University of Colorado, Boulder. His career as a management consultant began in Denver and led him back to Portland, september 2013 Reed magazine 61

In Memoriam

Thanksgiving 2012 brought John Goldsmith ’88 (standing, center) together with alumni friends, including Bryne Anderson ’86, April Brown ’90, Jean Field ’84, Bill Fitch ’86, Adam Green ’85, Eric Gier ’87, Kilian Kerwin ’85, Benn Lewis ’84, Maria Manuela Chora Lewis ’88, Jimmy Ng ’87, Cate Palmer ’85, Sebastian Pastore ’88, Amanda Six ’91, and George Wehn ’84.

where he met Christine. They were married for 11 years and lived in Washington, D.C., and Seattle. James worked for Keane Federal and XIO Strategies. In Seattle, he worked for Bimbo Bakeries. James enjoyed science fiction, fantasy novels, and taking on the challenges of word and number puzzles. He played the bongos and bought his first drum set when he was 44. He also bowled, golfed, and appreciated the competitive challenge of pool and poker. “James touched the lives and hearts of his many friends both personal and professional with his unique sense of humor and his kind heart,” said his family. “He truly cared for the people in his life and always made the effort to stay in touch when too much time had passed between visits.” Survivors include his wife, his brother, and his dog, Jeter.

John V. Goldsmith Jr. ’88 February 17, 2013, in Chevy Chase, Maryland, from cardiac arrest.

Our thanks to Leslie Mehren ’87 and Cate Palmer ’85 for gathering memories from John’s many friends and writing this memorial piece for Reed.

“Suddenly the hero saw that the living too are dead and that we can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasure; for our hearts are not strong enough to love every moment. And not an hour had gone 62 Reed magazine september 2013

by before the hero who was both watching life and living it called on Zeus to release him from so terrible a dream. The gods heard him, but before he left he fell upon the ground and kissed the soil of the world that is too dear to be realized.” (The Woman of Andros, by Thornton Wilder) John(ny) attended Reed as a chemistry major in 1984–85. He finished an undergraduate degree in economics at the University of Maryland, and went on to get a PhD in economics there in 1992. While at UMD, he worked as a copy boy in the Washington bureau of the New York Daily News. After brief stints at Exeter Associates and Deloitte & Touche, John worked as an industry economist in the FDA’s medical devices section. He liked that his job allowed him “to use mathy ways to figure out the world.” John once described the Iran hostage crisis as “that time Walter Cronkite tried to teach America to count.”

His sense of humor, combined with an incredible memory and an eye for detail, allowed him to connect many dots the rest of us missed. He was an amazingly intelligent, curious, funny, and kind guy, and made perfect Manhattans.

Cate recalls John saying, “I don’t believe I have ever met anyone quite like you—and that this is more or less what Cybill Shepherd said to Travis Bickle is a mere coincidence.” John excelled at staying close to his friends, maintaining friendships over decades while retaining an astonishing

catalogue of small events and memories collected over the years. He could literally pick up a story where it had left off years before, which often meant that it was hard to live anything down around him. He could tease mercilessly but just as often included himself in on the joke.

John was known to refer to himself by saying, “The Irish, you know, we’re not a pretty people.”

Motivated by his great love of life and his dedication to his children, Nora and Henry, John strove to learn new things and never waste time.

John embraced race car driving with the same passion he held for opera, art, and politics. He showed a great deal of discipline and determination as he dealt so well with life’s curveballs, and he went down swinging. He would love to know that we are trying as hard and laughing as much as we can. Leslie wrote, “It is never easy to lose a friend, and he is missed beyond measure.”

Survivors include his wife, Kim Rogers; his two adored children; and his parents and brothers.

Christina Slawson Siegel ’90

April 1, 2013, in Los Angeles.

Christina earned a BA in philosophy and political science, working with Peter Steinberger [poli sci 1977–] as a thesis adviser. She credited him as one of the influential people in her life. She graduated from Reed Phi Beta Kappa and also was a Rhodes Scholar finalist. “She was a terrific student,” says Steinberger. Christina went on to earn a JD from Harvard and returned to

her hometown of Los Angeles, where she practiced health care law for 10 years, specializing in mergers, acquisitions, and regulatory work. She married Mark Siegel and left her legal practice in order to raise their twin daughters. During the five years she enjoyed as a mother, she found time to serve on the board of directors for the Eisner Pediatric Medical Center and the Center for Early Education and to be a member of the Blue Ribbon. Christina is remembered for her wit, intelligence, beauty, unsurpassed integrity, and kindness. “Her sudden, unexpected, and unexplained passing leaves a painful void in the lives of all who knew her.” Survivors include her husband, daughters Elizabeth and Sarah, and her mother and brother.

Staff, Faculty, and Friends

Fredrick Calvin Brown [physics 1951–55]

November 18, 2011, in Everett, Washington.

A pioneer in the study of the alkali and silver halides, Brown did both his undergraduate and graduate work at Harvard. During World War II, he worked for the U.S. Navy on radar technology. After earning his doctorate, he was a physicist at the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington, D.C., and at the Applied Physics Laboratory at the University of Washington in Seattle. He taught at Reed for four years. As one of the first experimental physicists in the department, he was challenged by both the demands of research and teaching, and left Reed for the University of Illinois, where he remained until his retirement in 1987. Brown and his wife, Joan A. Schauble, then moved to Whidbey Island, Washington.

Brown’s early work on defects in silver halides led to many years as a consultant for Eastman Kodak. He was also a pioneer in the development of synchrotron radiation as a probe of defects in crystals and invented “the grasshopper”—an ultrahigh-vacuum-compatible monochromator that opened up the previously inaccessible vacuum UV/soft x-ray spectral range. Brown climbed all the mountains in the Pacific Northwest except Glacier Peak. He held a pilot’s license for a number of years and was a member of the Aircraft Owners and Pilots Association. Jim Borders ’63, who notified the college of Brown’s death, met him at the University of Illinois, where Brown served as a thesis adviser for Jim in his graduate study in physics.

pending

Eleanor Thurston Dyke ’34, James Stamps ’42, Eldo Mentzer AMP ’44, Charles Noll AMP ’44, Dorothy Schumann Stearns ’45, Stella Savage Zamvil ’48, Elizabeth Zollinger ’48, Dolores Berard ’49, Albert Ouichi MA ’49, Joyce Eberhart Kavanagh ’50, Martin Murie ’50, Ted Reich ’51, Virginia Rogers Weeks ’51, Edwin Norbeck ’52, Alison Gass Murie ’53, John Moses ’53, Alice Hanson Senter ’55, Donald Foster ’57, David Thomas ’58, Charles Kibby ’59, Stephen Corrie ’62, Robert Braunwart ’70, Patricia Rothenberg Honchar ’70, Barbara Johnson-Wint ’70, Deborah Emery ’75, Christopher Namtze ’75, Robert Lothian ’82, Edward Adams ’84, and Christopher Tarnstrom ’95.

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

Kollectiv Bargaining What do bonfires, bicycles, and umbrellas have in common?

Absolutely nothing—except at Reed, where these disparate phenomena (and many others) are indissolubly linked to the shadowy organization known as RKSK. The Reed Kollege Shit Kollectiv is one of the most popular organizations on campus. It organizes an annual noise parade, holds regular bonfires/potato bakes, and takes credit/blame for communal dispersal of minibikes, umbrellas, fuzzy slippers, smoking jackets, and Furbys. Its escapades include lollipop gardens sprouting up overnight on the Quad. But the origins of RKSK have been cloaked in mystery—until now.

As far as anyone can tell, RKSK started with an informal “wouldn’t it be cool if” discussion. Andy Wallace ’03 was sitting in the student union one evening in spring 2001 with a bunch of students savoring a free cup of java from the Paradox Café, which gives leftover coffee away at the end of the night rather than pouring it down the sink. Wouldn’t it be cool, someone mused, if the logic of the coffee giveaway could be broadened?

Pretty soon, a group of conspirators— including John Saller ’03, Jenn Dolan ’02, Ginny Griffin ’03, April Holm ’03, Peter McMahan ’03, Rose Spitler ’03, and Ezra Goldman ’03—hatched a plot.

“When we had this idea to give stuff away for free, we thought it would be fun to make it faux-Communist, and then all the propaganda and everything else that developed out of it was kind of a natural evolutionary process from it,” Ezra says.

The first couple months of RKSK were “pretty fast and loose.” Ginny remembers going to the Goodwill bins with her RKSK comrades to bring back tons—literally tons—of cheap, amazing stuff to give away free.

The first things to catapult the club’s popularity, however, were the kids’ bikes.

“The idea was that they would be efficient to use to get around campus, and no one would want to steal them because they were tiny and useless for off-campus use,” Ginny recalls.

64 Reed magazine september 2013

molly gingras ’09

By Raymond Rendleman ’06

BEARING THE TORCH: RKSK hosts annual Noise Parade in 2008.

RKSK’s minibike mastermind was Ezra, who’s now, appropriately enough, starting a San Francisco–based company called UpShift aimed at reinventing car sharing.

Ezra had visited an early bike-sharing enterprise in 1995 in Copenhagen.

Operatives bought used minibikes by the dozen from thrift stores and distributed them around campus free of charge, paying special attention to pink girly bikes with ribbons on the handlebars that made for entertaining riding.

After that, RKSK branched out into stuffed animals. In late 2001, Goodwill bins began to fill up with giant quantities of Furbys, the fluffy toy owlish creatures that were the dernier cri of the millennial toddler set. Furbys started materializing here and there on campus, in ones or twos, and then they seemed to multiply . . . until there were astonishing numbers of them everywhere, including those hanging upside down from nearly every bike seat. Eventually, RKSK launched an Offishal Furby-Annihilation Squad when stuffed animals took over Eliot Hall during the reign of interim president Peter Steinberger [political science 1973–].

Bill Wood ’04, Tam Failor ’04, and Dag Arneson ’05 were part of the key “second generation” of Reedies who found a strong

foothold for the organization during the administration of president Colin Diver [2002–12]. During commencement, operatives handed Diver a life-sized stuffed bull branded with the hammer and sickle. Other stunts included a chicken-wire-enclosed saxophone effigy of Kenny G (who, for the record, was and still is alive).

How to explain one of RKSK’s defining characteristics, the substitution of “K” for “C”? Reed’s tradition of simplified spelling goes back to President William Trufant Foster [1910–19], but this particular lexical tic can be traced to Andy and John. John was doing an independent study on how traditions (real and fabricated) helped create national identities, a phenomenon he deliberately replicated with RKSK. “It’s part of the silly, grandiose, mock-propagandistic writing style used on Red Menace,” says party historian and current RKSK leader Sam Liebow ’14, referring to the group’s email list.

No matter how you spell it, RKSK has proven a durable Reed institution. Its annual noise parade typically opens the academic year with a bang, and its ongoing stealth operations provide a welcome breath of whimsy through the April rain.

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Environmental studies major Katie Halloran ’15 plays the mandolin in her Naito dorm room.