And Then Some…

We were saddened yesterday to learn of the death of Ann Fitzgerald, former professor in the English department and a pioneer in women studies at Denison. It was just last year that Ann, co-founder and former director of Denison’s women’s studies department, came back to campus for a conference called “About a Decade: 1972-1984.” But it was more than a conference. It was a celebration of the 40th anniversary of women’s studies at Denison; it was a reunion for the faculty and students who were a part of the program; and it was an multi-generational conversation between students and faculty as they discussed the campus climate for women in the ’70s and today. I attended that conference and was struck by how much the alumni and students gravitated to Ann and to Joan Straumanis, the other co-founder of Denison’s program. But it was one story that Ann told that made me realize that big things can grow from small gestures. It was a note that Peggy Gifford ’75 had slid a under Ann’s office door when the English professor first arrived on campus. It read: “Thank goodness they hired a feminist.” Thank goodness, indeed.

For more about Ann’s career and the start of women studies at Denison, see our story, “First Feminists” published just this past spring in Vol. 100, No. 4.

It’s no secret that Denison has a lot of alumni, and usually, I love bragging about our extensive and supportive alumni base.  But last week, when the magazine editor asked me to proofread the class notes for the upcoming issue, I wished we had fewer alumni.  Usually, the document we proof is made up of more than 20-some pages.

But as I sifted through the snippets about what Denisonians were up to around the world, I felt relief.  It turns out, reading those little blurbs eased my worries, because they made me realize that there is hope for fulfilling work in this tough economy.

As a senior, I’ve spent the summer and first six weeks of school attempting to map out a plan for next year.  It’s not an intricate plan but it is—more or less—several different plans. I’m keeping my options open.  And while I’m not terribly worried about next year, I do wonder nearly every day, where will I be next year at this time and what will I be doing? The future both worries and excites me.  But thanks to the Denison alumni who have shared their successes and contentment with the magazine, I’m realizing more and more how well Denison is preparing me for life after the Hill.

Reading about world travelers, growing families, and alums who love and have succeeded in their career fields inspired me.  For me, it’s exciting not knowing what my next big step will be, and at the same time, it’s comforting to see that Denisonians, who have been in my shoes before, have fared just fine in the “real world.”

—Emily Hopcian, editorial intern, who just earned herself a whole new batch of Class Notes for editing

I spent a few days last week in Austin, Texas, working with our art director, Erin Mayes, owner and partner at EmDash Design. We’re planning some changes to the magazine over the coming months, so Erin and I spent two days brainstorming possibilities. We also ate lots of Mexican food. I mean, lots. (Breakfast tacos, anyone?)

Although I’ve traded emails and chat messages with many of Erin’s cohorts at EmDash, I was thrilled with the chance to meet them all face-to-face and to see where they generate their ideas. But I have to admit, I really hit it off with one of the staffers. In fact, I think I made a new best friend. He’s part of the team. A big, important part, really. He brings a sense of calm to a place that is constantly facing deadline after deadline.

Meet Willard:

It was a great trip, all in all, and I’m excited about some of the changes that we’re hoping to put in place. (It’s all top secret for now.) I’m also excited to be back in Granville, where it’s not 90 degrees and where the trees are starting to change.

But, man, I’ll miss that dog. And those tacos.

Our summer intern, Olivia Combe, reflects on her time working for Denison Magazine (and for the record, she was going for coffee anyway):

My days at Denison Magazine are winding down—for good.

For two summers now, I’ve  spent my Junes, Julys, and Augusts writing profiles and researching stories. There was some more intern-y work thrown in here in there—filing and labeling, admittedly not the most thrilling work—but I had a great time and learned so much. Not at all a shabby way to spend my summers and a great step toward becoming a professional journalist.

This week I’m heading back to Oberlin College for my senior year, but before I go, let me share the highlights of my summer.

I tattled on a student … to his mother. I had managed to reach all but one of the 2011 President’s Medalists  to get their advice for undergrads (see “Words of the Wise” in our most recent issue). When several pointed e-mails and a Facebook message  yielded no response from this one, elusive Medalist, it was time for drastic action. So … I called his mother. Alas, days later and no reply, it seemed my scheme had failed. I will be haunted by his missing advice for years to come.

I called Ethiopia (see “Our Woman in Africa” in the Class Notes section of the most recent issue).

I realized my true identity. As Denison students began to trickle back into town, I came to the shocking realization that, as someone who lives in Granville, I am considered a “townie.” Eek!

I had my Whit’s and ate it, too. One day, I was sent down hill with the magazine’s associate editor, Jamie Hale ’78, to do some hard-hitting investigative journalism on Granville’s booming restaurant scene. There was one snag in the plan: It was lunchtime, and I was hungry. So I waited until Jamie’s back was turned and ducked into Whit’s. I think I proved to the naysayers that it is entirely possible to report and eat a cookie dough Whitser at the same time.

I rode a carousel. I interviewed Catherine Carlozzi ’75 over the phone in July. We decided to meet up to chat in New York City the following week when I would be visiting family. We arranged a rendezvous point in Bryant Park by the carousel kiosk. The moment I arrived, Catherine turned to me, a giddy expression on her face, and said, “Want to ride the carousel?” Of course! We were the only two adults on the painted ponies, going round and round. I felt like a kid again.

I survived an earthquake! Many people on the Hill felt the 2011 East Coast earthquake. I was not one of them.

I went to Watkins Printing, and while I didn’t get to see any printed pages of the final magazine (there was a bit of a hiccup with the magazine’s new paper and the printing plates), it was still very impressive to walk through the building and see the huge machines, the enormous paper rolls, and the gallons and gallons of ink.

I came up with the idea for, organized, and wrote a series for TheDEN on Summer Scholars working in the non-sciences. If you’ve ever wondered if it would be difficult to get responses out of seven busy college students during the summer, let me answer that one for you: yes. Yes, it is.

I felt like a real young journalist. Remember those intern-y tasks I mentioned earlier? Well, this summer I added another to the list: coffee runs for my boss. The indignity! Actually, the magazine’s editor always paid for my coffee, so maybe “indignity” isn’t the right word.  I’m sure the novelty will wear off eventually, but I did get something of thrill from running such a typical intern errand. I was out in the world, struggling to make a name for myself!

And next year at this time, I really will be.

—Olivia Combe, editorial intern

After seeing our feature photo essay of shots from campus, Jim Gillingham ’49 sent us this great photograph along with a note. Just thought we’d share:

“I frequently refer to the adage ‘change is painful.’ In viewing the photographs by Howard Korn and Chris Myers, I remembered the three years that I worked as the publicity photographer for Denison, supplying Publicity Director Ruth Outland with photos of campus activities for news releases. My sturdy 4 x 5-inch format Speed Graphic  camera proved to be a worthy challenge when I tried to photograph a picture a minute. I struggled to get duplicate shots of an activity before heading to the darkroom for processing and then escaping for the drudgery of studying for classes. To take 200 pictures of the same activity could be a daunting challenge, probably impossible with the equipment of that day. Perhaps I should change the adage to ‘no change is painful.’”

We should note that we chose only a smattering of the images supplied to us from Korn and Myers. During their four days on campus, the pair actually took more than 10,000 photographs, then edited those down before passing about 6,000 images on to us. Wonder how many days it might take to accomplish the same task using a Speed Graphic camera.

That's Gillingham posing with a borrowed Speed Graphic—his own camera was used to take this shot.

Last Saturday about 40 people gathered in the Burton Morgan Center to remember Parker Lichtenstein, former chair of the psychology department, dean of the college, and acting president. Lichtenstein passed away in January. We noted his death in a recent issue of the magazine and included a longer obituary for him on the magazine’s web site, but no one can tell Lichtenstein’s story better than the people who were close to him. Buck Niehoff ’69 recalled the tumultuous time on campus during Lichtenstein’s acting presidency from 1968-1969. “As on other campuses,” said Niehoff, “Denison students were actually angry about something we couldn’t change—the seemingly pointless, endless war in Vietnam.” The students presented to Lichtenstein a list of demands back in 1968; he implemented what he could and opened his office for discussion on the rest. “Despite the tensions and confrontations,” said Niehoff, “Parker’s dignity inspired all of us to respect each other. His belief in fairness affirmed justice even for those who were defiant. And his wisdom made sense of the turmoil around us.”

But Lichtenstein was never alone. When friends and family remembered him on Saturday, they also remembered his wife, Marion, who died just eight months before her husband. Below are comments about the couple from David Woodyard, professor of theology at Denison, and friend of the Lichtenstein family:

If asked to name a couple from the last half century who represent Denison at its best, would not Parker’s and Marion’s names immediately surface? Parker, the stoic and rigorous scholar and Marion the gracious and effervescent partner surely would approach the top of the list. I suspect neither one ever made an enemy. That Parker was a tad reserved and Marion wonderfully gregarious is a marital pattern with which I identify!

In the 21st century it is precarious to talk about a “good wife.” The third wave of feminism has shattered the perception in which many of us were raised. But, she was! For many she was a bridge to Parker. At times she almost made him seem like fun! However, it would be an injustice to limit her to a marital role. Marion was a prominent force in the Granville community as well as Denison. Whether it was a PEO or the Baptist Church or the annual faculty Christmas party—or any gathering of folks—Marion was often the center of gravity, a lively one! It was not that she sought that role or even relished it; it was just her honesty, decency, graciousness, and spirit, which not only enabled groups to function, but to take themselves less seriously. One of the things Marion did best was enable people to feel good about themselves and what they could contribute to a group. That, alas, is a remarkable gift. Marion was one of those people you just could not get enough of. There was a bit of magic in her D.N.A.

Not everyone felt that comfortable with Parker. I did; perhaps shy and quiet types appreciate each other. My first one-on-one contact with Parker was over the phone when he offered me a job. I accepted enthusiastically. When he mentioned salary, I reluctantly acknowledged it was less than I was currently making. Drolly, Parker responded, “I will look around and see if I can find a few hundred dollars.” He did, but only a few! One of the things I came to value over time was the settled and secure nature of the man. He was unflappable. He was chief academic officer and acting president during difficult times…. Parker was relentlessly fair and patient with surging needs and modest resources. Some will also remember that he was acting president as issues of justice found expression in protests and open revolts. One night as he returned from a trip, Marion directed him to the fourth floor of Slayter where a tense meeting was occurring. When Parker entered the room, faculty and students alike, stood up and cheered wildly. He proceeded to talk in his calm manner for 15 minutes—and said virtually nothing. As he sat down, the crowd again cheered wildly. Afterward I commented on the way he brought some tranquility to a turbulent audience. And in his dry manner he said, “David, I had no idea why they were gathered.” But he was there, and that made all the difference. Parker was the rock upon which Denison was built for decades, a firm foundation during turbulent times.

If Parker was the rock, Marion was the evening tide that flows in and around the rock securing bliss and joy. Together they made Denison a good place to be.



We sent our intern, Olivia Combe, out to campus for a walk last week armed with a camera. So, if you’re yearning for your college days, here are a few moments of zen …

More campus photos by photographers Howard Korn and Chris Myers will be in our upcoming issue set to land in mailboxes in early August.

I’ve never been to a WOast. I’ve never even been to a Roast. And from what I hear, the two are quite different.

The former is what unofficially took place on June 25, when The Denison Singers made their way back to campus for the group’s 50th anniversary and their 588th performance. Rick Kauffman ’86— one of the organizers of the event—described The Singers’ version as a “heartfelt, kinder, gentler Roast” aimed at The Denison Singers’ founder and director of 42 years, William “WO” Osborne.

During rehearsal earlier on Saturday, WO requested that later that night, after dinner and cocktails, they would all go around the group and give an update on their lives—family, jobs, where they are now. “We’d kind of forgotten that he likes to do that,” said Kauffman. “He really likes to hear from everybody. We’re kind of like his kids.” Realizing that attempting to fit the updates of 75-plus people in with the WOast would leave them talking until midnight, Kauffman and the others decided to combine the two. People could stand up, say a thing or two about themselves, and share any WOast-y story they chose.

So what, you might ask, does a “heartfelt” WOast consist of? Mostly declarations of gratitude, as it turns out. Though Kauffman said that a handful of people shared some funny stories or relived a few inside jokes, most of the Singers took their moment to express just how thankful they were for WO, the time, effort, and “sticktoitiveness” he had dedicated to and instilled in them.

“WO’s musical knowledge is just vast,” says Kauffman, “and he frequently had us sing pieces that we had never heard of by composers we had never heard of. And they weren’t always fun to sing. Often they were difficult, and they were strange to our ears. WO taught us, though, that ‘fun’ can have several definitions, and one of those is being able to, at the end of the semester, present a concert that is quite good, and that really stretches your mind and broadens your horizons. I’m not sure all of us were ready to embrace that message when we were young college students.”

Throughout the evening, the former director and still-beloved mentor just sat back, laughed, smiled, and took it all in, like a proud parent listening to his kids’ accomplishments. At the end of the marathon of stories and thank yous, Jeff Masten ’86 announced that The Singers had made a contribution to the scholarship fund that WO created at Denison in memory of his parents—the Mary G. and G. Harold Osborne Endowed Scholarship, which assists students in the fine arts.

If this is how a “WOast” typically goes, then sign me up. The Singers are planning on another reunion in 2013, I hear. Maybe I can put my name in for consideration.

And if you want to hear more about The Denison Singers, check out the next issue of Denison Magazine, due to hit mailboxes in early August.

–Olivia Combe, editorial assistant

The magazine’s designer (Erin Mayes of EmDash Design) lives in Austin, Texas, and most of the work we do with her is through ichat conversations, email, and a weekly video chat. Occasionally, her design team works with Austin-based photographer, Matt Wright-Steel to shoot our cover. Since I’m all the way in Ohio, I get a little antsy to see the final results, and I begin pestering the crew with emails or chat messages asking them to send me photos of how everything is coming together on the day of the big shoot. Yesterday, I got lucky: They sent a video.

Even though it’s tough to hear, you’ll get the idea. And just a bit of explanation: The back cover involves lots of bubbles and a bathtub. After trying to create more bubbles by blowing into straws and hoses underwater, the design team and the photographer happened on the brilliant idea of an air pump. It worked well. Almost too well.

As I walked into Watkins Printing Company last Thursday, I didn’t know what to expect. I’d never been to a printing plant before, and I suppose I thought I’d see machinery that filled the building and workers walking around with earplugs and protective glasses on, much like a factory. And while some of my “stereotypes” were fulfilled during my visit to Watkins (there’s lots of loud buzzing machinery and the place smells like ink), others were not.

What stunned me most, though, were the massive rolls of paper that sat near the start of the press. Before visiting the plant, I’d never really thought about how the paper looks before it enters the press, and I was shocked to see the rolls, which I’m guessing were 4-feet tall and 6-feet wide.

It was neat to see that paper transformed into the magazine’s front and back covers. It starts into the machine at one end of the building and at each “inking station,” it’s doused with a new color—first all of the yellow is laid down, then the blue, then magenta, then black. By the time it reaches the other end, it’s done, and a pressman takes the finished pages to check for flaws. Even without the full-color effect, the magazine looks cool. But the finished product? Even better. Look for it in the mail beginning tomorrow. It’s pretty epic.

—Emily Hopcian ’12, editorial intern