The ‘them’ that shaped t he ‘us’ by Rich Mavin Class of 1968 y wife Sheila (Class of ’69), and I often find ourselves eminiscing over our years attending Weber State College. Without exception we end up talking about certain teachers who had a very fundamental influence on our lives. This was not only because of the subject matter they taught, but also because of who they were. In many instances, their own unique personali- ties blended with the material, reinforcing both and melding the total experience into a singular recollection. Today separating the teacher from the subject has become almost impossible. We relish recounting the anecdotes and stories associated with our brief but memorable encounter with these unique individuals. There is seldom a time that watching Don Gale’s editorial spots for KSL fails to quicken memories of Don as a teacher of Journalism. For a short time Don drove to Weber each day from his home in Salt Lake city. We were always amazed that even in the dead of winter Don arrived on campus in his TR3 with the top down. Bundled in a protective armor of hat, scarf, coat and gloves he would emerge from the tired little sports car, a semi-frozen visitor from some other world. Once inside the room he emerged from his cocoon by unraveling the bindings of his protective mail. For the first ten minutes of class his speech was slurred because he couldn’t move his lips until the circulation returned to his face. At first I thought the top down, rain or snow antics, were the result of hard-core roadster enthusiasm. But after realizing that Don was quite intelligent and not prone to masochism, I finally got enough courage to ask him why he didn’t put the top up. Much to my delight and amusement he revealed that the car didn’t have a top to put up! In one cosmic moment, Don had forever stamped on my impressionable mind the image of the starving, dedicated professor, sacrificially wending his wintry way in a daily pilgrimage to disseminate truth to youth. Now, in the warmth and security of the tv studio, sitting comfortably on the edge of his desk, moving all his facial parts without tribulation, Don seems less noble, but more successful than the frozen professor we knew and enjoyed over 20 years ago. “Areopag- itica, Don.” Teachers often create a feeling of unity in a classroom situation. This “glue” seldom stifles debate or different points of view; however, the mutual suppo.i based wn a real interest in each other seemed to add an element of fun to the experience. Gerald Grove’s flat top hair cut and prize-figher’s nose gave him a rugged, tough-guy appearance. This belied his patient, gentle, familiar style that set the tone of cooperation in the class. For thirteen students attempting to read Chaucer in that upper division English class, what could have been boring and tedious turned out to be fun and spontaneous. Much of this was achieved through Dr. Grove’s enthusiasm and style. Sometimes he took on couldn’t remember hearing anything but his genius. Monson’s ability to transfer his own love of Shakespeare’s work to the student was unlike anything I have experienced since. His unique style required formality in the class, but it was regularly compromised by the mischievousness of his darting eyes and quick smile as he would proclaim one of his favorite wisdoms. “Students, Shakespeare is as modern as tomorrow’s newspaper.” Always the gentleman and an exquisite scholar, he lit the fire in Sheila and me that burns with new intensity each time we revisit our old and familiar friend, Shakespeare, a friend to whom we were so appropriately and lovingly introduced by the little man with the funny voice. There were little things that changed some big things in my life. Former Congressman Laurence Burton taught for a short time at Weber State. He often characterized himself as a “zoo keeper throwing raw meat to the young lions.” Indeed that freshman Political Science class was sometimes a “zoo” as the “young lions” tore at and devoured the “meat.” Larry allowed us all the privilege of discovering for ourselves the answers to traditional questions. The age-old philosophical debate over the nature of man was as fresh and new to us as if we had discovered it ourselves. His patience in allowing us the right to rush in, with unbridled enthusiasm and ignorance, where wise men had feared to tread, resulted in personal growth The ringing of the victory bell was a tradition for many years; a tradition being reinstated this centennial year. through experience. I remember thai fearsome moment, when I disregarded all the awesome warnings, and signed up for a class from that “busy stirrer up of doubt,” a Chaucerian aura as he struggled to maintain a degree of dignity as we students persisted in intimately detail- Dr. Jennings Olsen. Wearing my religion like a badge, I went forward prepared to ward off the challenges prevailed. His classic rendition of the Adam and Eve story still makes me smile: “. . . two naked people cavorting through a beautiful garden in . Jackson County, Missouri, while a snake stood on his tail and babbled to them in Hebrew.” Yet Dr. Olsen shared with me a gem I have kept and used for all these ensuing years. He simply counselled me after class one day. “Mr. Mavin, in order to testify for anything, one is obligated "to know the alternatives.” Right on Dr. J., and thanks for the wisdom that has made “all the difference.” Sheila and I learned a great deal about the relative unimportance of physical stature as we encountered the diminutive Dr. Lavon Carroll. Her fair skin always slightly flushed, she “ruled” the classroom with a measured excitement for the material she obviously loved and was eager to share. She opened the doors of “poesy” and led us into the magic world of James Joyce. Dr. Carroll’s strength was her knowledge; her force was her own poetic talent; and her impact was selfconfidence with the material she taught. One of our recurring delights was to watch Dr. Carroll and Dr. Robert Mikkelsen (another of our great favorites) as they conversed while walking between buildings on campus. His six-foot-five juxtaposed with her five-foot-one, created a distinct communications barrier. Consumed by their intense conversation, they would bob along asynchronously, him arched downward, her straining upward, struggling to share a common audible space. Indeed, Mr. Emerson, their ability t¢. communicate at all under such circumstances-was, in a word, transcendental. I have omitted much, but space allows only a glimpse of a few of the life-long memory gems that we ing certain aspects of the Miller’s Tale. this legendary “destroyer of faith” I was not unfamiliar with Shakespeare by the time I attended college, however, my relationship with could muster. Dr. Olsen showed great deference to my religious bent allowing me the treasure. They have continued to shape the us that is, in part, a product the bard was fairly unemotional. It took a small, white-haired man with a grating high, nasal voice to touch the place in me where passion for great art chance to express my views without belittling my delicious naivete. When on the “attack,” his sense of humor of the them we knew and loved at Weber State College. Much to my chagrin, is found. I once had a friend ask me, “How can you stand to listen to Dr. Monson’s voice for a whole class period?” I remember saying that after the first 10 minutes of the class I Milestones William P. Miller appointed president Buildings 1-4 on new campus dedicated. Technical education building dedicated. eMarch 19, 1959 Four-year status granted. Weber College becomes Weber State College. eMay 14, 1963 First bachelors degrees awarded. eJune 1, 1964 Swenson Gymnasium dedicated. eDec. 9, 1962 eSept. 21, 1965 Stewart Library dedicated. Lind Lecture Hall and Science Center completed. ©1969 Shepherd Union Building built. eSept. 4, 1953 01954 ©1957 Students learn anatomy in this 1964 zoology class.