Handel's 'Messiah' beat football
AS AN ALUMNUS from 1936, I have been getting literature telling of the wonderful people and programs in Ann Arbor. Soon there will be the hype for the football team. I saw only one college football game—the opener in 1934 against Michigan State, which was a big upset. I sold my student tickets to eat a little better. I was working in the Women's League Cafeteria, which I thought was the better place for good food. The men and women with whom I worked provide the only socialization for an engineering student in an arcane major—Engineering Mechanics.
It also provided an incident which shaped my later life: at a picnic in the summer of 1936, 20 to 30 were enjoying a songfest mostly of the popular tunes of the day, until someone started, "Halleluiah." It was not familiar to me, but I was entranced. Not all were singing the tune as I could hear it, but I was told that this was a famous and familiar chorus from Handel's Messiah, and was in four-part harmony.
When I graduated and went home, I joined a church choir, more or less under lenient tests. When I was transferred to the Cleveland office, I found a church near my rooming house that had a choir that sounded great, and the bulletin asked for those interested to try out on the following Wednesday.
Eventually, this choir was one of two asked to provide a nucleus for a chorus to accompany the Cleveland Orchestra under George Szell in Beethoven's "Ninth."
I would like to hear from and about some of the men and women who worked at the League in 1934-1936. We had some memorable visitors that I recall, Lily Pons and Helen Jepson; Alla Nazimova and Romney Brent. We got to see them up close, and wonder.
A secondary effect has been writing verses for the choirs in which I have sung. One I like best is:
You like to sing, and I like to sing,
We sing in our church choir.
Some sing high and some sing low,
And some sing even higher.
At times, we sing like angels,
Run chills up and down our spine.
And then we will tell ourselves:
"One of those voices is Mine."
Alex Hudson '36
Cleveland |
Keweenaw, not Keewanau
PLEASE TELL me that a big state university did not just spell Keweenaw wrong! Come on folks! This just reaffirms that people from Michigan forget that the other half of the state is across the bridge. I would hope that Mr. Martin was none too pleased to see the incorrect spelling as well. Please try to be a little more careful. You would be surprised at how many people take offense.
Kimberly Klarich Nofz '88 BSN
Bellville, Michigan |
Blame the Feds, too: Aware of our ignorance of UP geography, we checked the spelling and copied 'Keewanau' from the Website of the National Park Service's Maritime Heritage Program. It seems to be an alternative transliteration of the Indian word, and to represent the pronunciation of the first two syllables more accurately.—Ed.
The Leader of the Band
MY COMPLIMENTS on your publication and especially Joanne Nesbit's article on Karen England, "She's The Leader of the Band." However, I must point out an error in the first paragraph. It has not been a "100-year plus history" that the band has entered the Stadium through the tunnel. The "House That Yost Built," or "The Big House," was not built until sometime in the middle 1920s. Before that, Ferry Field was the location where the Wolverines had their glorious early history.
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George Olsen, the Marching Band's first drum major, in 1913.
Photo courtesy of George E. Olsen |
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I know this because my father, George Olsen, was the first real drum major at the U of M. He later became a famous orchestra leader and RCA's top musical recording artist in the 1930s. Dad also was the first drum major to throw the baton over the goal posts, a tradition that has continued to this day. That was 1913. |
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A letter in response to a question from the great and dearly loved William Revelli from my father is enclosed. It was written in the 1960s and described the first days of a real U-M Marching Band. You might find it interesting. Also, I have included some photos of the 1913 band, and my father with his shako and baton.
One of Dad's dearest memories was in 1947 or '48 when I was a member of the team. Dad came to Ann Arbor and Revelli had him conduct the band at halftime from the elevated stand on the Michigan sidelines.
My father, uncle, brother and I all went to U-M. Last year, I attended my 50th Class Reunion and saw many of the guys from both football and swimming teams. Although I was not a first-rate athlete (by U-M standards), I was a member of two national championship teams that year. Best wishes and GO BLUE!
George E. Olsen '50
Fort Lauderdale, Florida |
I JUST finished reading your excellent Summer issue and particularly the story of Miss Karen England ["She's the Leader of the Band" by Joanne Nesbit—Ed.]. The thing that touched me was that I, too, graduated from Michigan in 1946 in medicine. I, too, set a goal at age 14 that I wanted to be a doctor. Then I too had an interest in astronomy and have had such an interest since age 9 when I saw a partial solar eclipse in Dexter, Michigan. I believe I became an ophthalmologist because of that experience. Karen's mother gave her advice that I figured out by myself but found, in my reading, that Epictetus (born 60 AD) said, "First say to yourself what you would be; then do what you have to do." I thought Karen would like to know that.
John W. Bishop '46 MD
Email |
Bayonne Boys bled Blue
CONCERNING your article "Bayonne Boy," I am a cousin of S. Paul Epstein, pictured in the article in the group of Bayonne Boys! It may interest you to know that Paul's daughter, Shirley Epstein Weinberger, as well as Shirley's two boys (Paul's grandsons) all graduated from Michigan! In fact the grandchildren (Alan and Seth Weinberger) received law and engineering degrees from U-M Ann Arbor!
As a former Bayonne resident, I lived in Ann Arbor from 1970 until 1973 when my husband, Harvey B. Leibin, received a Master of Architecture degree. I recall annual trips when S. Paul Epstein would come out to Michigan for football games, always eat and stay at the Union, and, even in snow, we would all walk to the game (usually the Ohio State game), as he was an Orthodox Jew and, even at age 80, would not drive on the Sabbath. Dinners with S. Paul were always loud and lively. And now, our daughter is getting ready to apply to U-M. The elder generation of Bayonne is all abuzz and deliriously proud; the special recognition and attention to their place in the history of the University of Michigan warmed many hearts and kindled a renewed spirit and awe for "The Victors"! Hail!
Florence Epstein Leibin
Email |
THE LATEST issue was in my post office box this morning and I just glanced through it. The article "Bayonne Boy" caught my eye since I have relatives and "near relatives" from that group of Jewish students. (My father graduated from U-M right after WWII.) Phil Slomovitz, who is in the photograph on p. 21 of this issue, was my uncle! The caption under the photograph mentions an article, "The Little Giant," that you wrote about my uncle in the December 1993—a most apt description for a most remarkable man, even allowing for my bias!
Joy L. Wezelman '71, '73 AMLS
Bismarck, North Dakota |
MY FATHER was a personal friend of Harold Herman ("Bayonne Boy") and attended the U of M from 1918—1922, knowing all the Bayonne boys who went to Michigan at that time. I have an enlarged photo of 21 of those young men, who went on to successful careers after graduation.
Donald Hockstein '50
Email |
THANK YOU so much for publishing "Bayonne Boy" about my father, Harold Herman. I have had his collection of letters written to his father about 20 years. I wanted to have them published in some form. The letters date from his high school days through his Michigan and Harvard years to his early married life. Michigan held such a special place in his heart. He was so pleased when I enrolled at Michigan in l945 and my daughter took her MA there in l975. What a thrill he would have had to read "Bayonne Boy"! I am so proud of my daughter, Joan Elmouchi , who wrote such a professional yet touching article. It gave our family so much joy-and some tears, too!
Ann Herman Solkin '49
Boynton Beach, Florida |
I GUESS I will be one of the many who hastens to correct an error in "Bayonne Boy." The pictures and the story are appealing, especially to someone who relived a little bit of the story a couple of decades later, but the fact is that the date of US entry into WW I is one year off in the article: We entered the war in April 1917, not 1918 as stated.
However, this almost irrelevant fact in no way detracts from the details of student life in Ann Arbor at this time, and it is a tribute to the author, Joan Elmouchi, that she reproduced diary-like letters and other stories about U of Michigan events, academic routines and customs that reminded me of my own times.
Another article in the same issue, "Theodore Roethke, Michigan's Poet," recalls other details of the U of M, and even touches on broader areas of national culture, but who can resist comparing Roethke with the brilliant U of M students we knew of or even were acquainted with personally who were occupied with similar alcoholic problems, contradictions and ambivalencies? It was most pleasant, just as it was in the "Bayonne Boy" article, to read about backgrounds of other cities (Saginaw); well-known names in the Michigan hierarchy (Little, Bredvold, Seager, Sharfmon); streets (Willard, Haven, Washtenaw); clothes (bench-made suits, blue-and-white seersucker suits); the description and quotations of Roethke's poetry were, of course, the heart of the article and revealed to some of us who were unfamiliar with him, a distinguished artist.
Daniel E. Ross '40
New York City |
The Legendary Harry Carver
In our last issue, reader Edward S. Weiss suggested a story on Prof. Harry Carver, who was reported to have resigned from U-M at an advanced age, so he could enlist as a private and fight in WW II. Campus lore also said that he offered an 'A' to any student who could beat him in a footrace. We asked for information about Professor Carver and received the following—Ed.
I DID NOT know Professor Carver in the '30s, but he was a campus legend by the time I was fortunate enough to be a member of two of his classes in the late '40s. Stories told by others about those early days included the one about his powder blue suits. It seems he liked them so well he had seven. Perhaps the best was the one about the time it was raining so he drove his car up the steps of Angell Hall to pick up his wife so she would not get wet.
He did not resign, nor did he join the Marines. He was asked to be an Air Corps (now Air Force) instructor, but he insisted that he would only do so if he went through the same training as the cadets, first. Then, having been accepted, he went to whatever base the basic training was located on and went through the training. He was older than the others and, in fact, had white hair, which he explained by saying that he was really terrified of flying, but had decided on this training to get over his fears. Apparently he was believed for some time. In fact, it wasn't until he encountered one of his students who greeted him with, "Hi, Prof," that the story broke down. How do I know? He told us.
The first of his classes to which I was exposed was Finite Differences. This was needed for Part 3 of the actuarial exams, and he authorized us to buy the official textbook, which he did not use. His entire lecture on the subject of divided differences was, "You've heard of divided differences. Forget them." The finite differences portion of Part 3 that year was entirely based on divided differences.
The same class offered a pleasant ending. We had been assigned an evening period for our final exam, but he said, "I know what your grades are going to be, and there is nothing a final exam would do to change any of them. So let's go flying." We assembled at the Ann Arbor flying field and he and another pilot gave us joy rides in their Cubs. They had to be short rides because there was apparently a line of thunderstorms building up, but it was easily the most pleasant final exam I ever took.
W. Keith Sloan '49
Franklin, Tennessee |
IN A RECENT letter, Prof. Harry Carver was briefly discussed as to his flamboyant style. I was a student in one of his classes in 1946 and can vouch for the following facts.
During WW II, he was requested by the Army Air Force to help improve the accuracy of their bombing technique. He agreed to help them, but only if he could go through cadet training with all the 19-year-olds, even though his hair was snow white. The Air Force agreed.
He was coach of the Michigan cross country team at the time he joined the service. On the first training run Professor Carver won the long distance race since he was in shape from running with the Michigan cross country team. The cadets then accepted him as one of their own.
Back at Michigan after the war, he would challenge the all-male class to five different sporting events. He said we could choose our best in each event to compete against him, and if we could win three out of the five events, we would not have to take the final test.
I can remember only four of the five events, which were pool, bowling, shot-putting and golf. Our best pool player had first shot and broke the racked balls. The professor then proceeded to clear the table. Our boy didn't get a second shot.
Our best bowler wasn't even close. Carver also won the shot put against our huskiest challenger. He penalized himself during the golf match, playing with only a putter and a driver. He again won going away.
As a result we took the final test with great admiration for Prof. Harry Carver.
Joseph M. Kenny '48
New Buffalo, Michigan |
I READ with interest the letter from Edward S. Weiss in the Summer 2001 issue regarding Professor Harry S. Carver. I took a statistics course from Professor Carver in the early '50s at the U of M extension in the Rackham Building in Detroit. I still have his book, Lectures and Exercises in Basic Mathematical Statistics.
Professor Carver was a great teacher who made a difficult subject interesting by examples involving poker and games of chance. He was a very large man, and I can recall his holding a Marchant comptometer in one hand while he made calculations with the other hand. I understood that he was involved in the 8th Army Air Force in England, analyzing the photographs taken after air raids over Germany to evaluate the distribution of bomb craters to improve future air raids' effectiveness.
Harry E. Schatz
West Bloomfield, Michigan |
Query on William Smeaton
IN YOUR March 1994 issue you mentioned William Gabb Smeaton. Do you have any biographical information on him? Could you suggest any sources for reference? I have quoted the passing reference to him below: "Colton says his gifts have been 'my way of showing appreciation for Michigan teachers I had, like Mortimer E. Cooley and William Gabb Smeaton.'"
The reference is to the scholarship, for incoming undergraduates with leadership traits, established in 1993 by Ralph and Elsie Colton of Chicago. Ralph Colton received his BS and MS in engineering from the University in 1923 and '24. Perhaps readers can help out on Smeaton.—Ed
Time to reinvestigate Roethke
ONE HOPES that Linda Robinson Walker's in-depth portrait of "Theodore Roethke: Michigan's Poet" (Summer 2001) will persuade readers to reinvestigate this fine writer again—not only the Collected Poems (Doubleday, 1966), but David Wagoner's fascinating selection from the notebooks, Straw for the Fire (Doubleday, 1972).
One can also reconstruct two of Roethke's important correspondences with fellow poets by alternating Ralph J. Mills's edition of Selected Letters of Theodore Roethke with What the Woman Lived: Selected Letters of Louise Bogan (ed. Ruth) and Poets, Poetics and Politics: America's Literary Community Viewed from the Letters of Rolfe Humphries, 1910-1969 (ed. Richard Gillman and Michael Paul Novak).
Just how vital letters can be for re-entering past lives is movingly demonstrated by Joan Elmouchi's article about her grandfather Harold Herman, "Bayonne Boy." How wonderful that these missives from World War I were saved, to speak to a new and wider audience all these decades later. (One hopes some e-mail recipients are printing and storing the best modern-day versions of such communiqués.) Please continue bringing your readers such detailed portraits and vivid visitations from University history.
Warren Keith Wright '80 MA
Arbyrd, Missouri |
WHEN I WAS teaching economics statistics at the University of Washington in 1950-51, I heard about a man on campus who was gaining fame by teaching creative writing. I decided to enroll in his classes since I was working on my PhD degree and thought I could use some writing skills.
At the first class meeting this large man, who looked like a bear, walked in and started reciting poetry like a Shakespearean actor. As the class progressed, I realized that Prof. Theodore Roethke's teaching style was unique. He gave very unusual assignments. For example, "Write a poem without adjectives," or "Write a poem about an animal," or "Write a 16th century ballad," or "Write a poem with single-syllable verbs," or "Write a poem within a poem."
Since I was also a teacher, I was able to meet him in social situations. On one occasion we were at a party on a houseboat in Lake Washington talking about our personal lives, and we suddenly realized that we were both Michigan graduates (I got my MBA in 1949). I found out quickly that Ted was a serious drinker. He brought a quart-sized jar, which he filled one quarter with scotch and the remainder with beer. At one point in our conversation, he asked me about my girlfriend, who was talking to someone elsewhere on the boat at the time. He had spoken to her earlier, and he looked at me and said, "Marry her. I made a mistake once. Don't you make one now." (I did marry her and we are this year celebrating our 50th anniversary.)
He talked endlessly of the University of Michigan. It was clear that he loved his years in Ann Arbor. He told me stories about his roommate Benny Oosterbaan. Although I was 30 years old, he always called me "Kid" outside the classroom, and he served as my father in locum tenens concerning advice on living.
I took four quarters of creative writing from Ted Roethke, and they were the highlights of my student days. At time he was haughty, but he was humble enough to bring his own unpublished poems to class for our comments.
When my first son was born in 1953, Ted dedicated my copy of The Waking to "August Bolino's Son," and he wrote, "When he is old and gray and full of sleep,/May he exclaim 'Here's a book I want to keep.'"
The last time I saw Ted was during the Seattle Expo 62, when he was scheduled to give a reading of his own poems in a very large auditorium. But he didn't read; he paced up and down nervously, and he recited without notes. He kept the huge standing-room-only crowd enthralled with his body language and his sonorous voice, that went from a near whisper to a stentorian cry.
It is clear that there will never be another Theodore Roethke.
August C. Bolino '49 MBA
Silver Spring, Maryland |
THAT'S A beautiful piece on Theodore Roethke. I enjoyed every word. I had known his poetry but, unfortunately, I joined the U-M faculty only around the time of his death. Now, thanks to [Linda Robinson Walker], I know him as a man.
Erasmus L. Hoch
Brunswick, Maine |
I READ my most recent Michigan Today and was delighted to read a quote from Prof. Donald Hall! Of course, the quote was from a number of years ago, but I am curious if Professor Hall is still alive, is he still at the U, does he have email, snail mail address? I had Professor Hall for my freshman composition class, and the man taught me to write, for which I continue to be most grateful. It was a very agonizing process, however, and I can look back on it now with great fondness and love. We met three times a week, it was an honors section, and we had to write 1,000 words a week. I thought I already knew how to write. My first paper was returned, liberally decorated by his red pen, with a grade of D-.
I made an appointment to see him, and he was very gracious and charming, and I thought I learned a lot that day. My next paper was a D. After that, I had a standing appointment with him every week, the day after we had our papers returned. I remember the appointment lasting an hour each time, and I went home each week inspired to implement what I had learned. The grades gradually moved through the full range of C's—we stayed there a long time—and I think I made one B-.
I wrote my blue book final exam and left without a clue as to how I had done, dropping a self-addressed postcard on the desk when I left. When the postcard arrived at my home, I was absolutely stunned to read that I had earned an A on the final and an A in the course! When classes resumed, I went back to see Professor Hall and said, "Why did you make me suffer like that?" His reply went something like this: "Because, my dear, if I had given you a B+ on your first paper, you would not have worked very hard the rest of the term. I knew you could write—all you needed to learn was how to write better and cleaner and smarter." I would love to be in touch with him if that is possible, to thank him again, let him know that I am still writing, and have even had some modest writings published.
Jeanne Zimmerman '64
Tequesta, Florida |
Donald Hall lives on Eagle Pond Farm in Wilmot, New Hampshire.—Ed.
I WANT to tell you how much I enjoyed the wonderful article on the poet Theodore Roethke. Ms. Walker wrote a commendable tribute to one of America's great poets and teachers. He was not just a giant in physical stature. In all my years at different universities around the country, I never met another teacher of poetry that matched the quality and intensity of Roethke's efforts. While never officially in his famous poetry workshop at the University of Washington, I did sit in for a week in 1961. That week and Nelson Bentley's night workshop at the same campus pointed the direction I needed to take as a young poet and would-be teacher of poetry.
Nevertheless, I think that two important characteristics of Roethke's style were left out in the article regarding his gifts as a teacher. One is the fact that he had a photographic memory and had hundreds of poems memorized by heart—from Chaucer to Wallace Stevens. Thus, when a student would read his or her poem in class, and Roethke noticed something special about it, for example, that the student was honoring his mentor, Hopkins, then Roethke would recite Hopkins's poem that best illustrated his point. We sat in awe over this special gift of his.
The second thing that attracted students to his workshop from around the world was his emphasis that one read poetry aloud in order to fully engage oneself in its art form. He said the ear was the primal critic of good poetry, and the oral tradition cultivated the mastery of sound to complement the mastery of the printed word. And how prophetic he was! The visual image has become a dictator in our time and is driving the younger generations into silence, especially the ones with genuine talent.
And let me close by saying how eagerly I look forward to reading future issues of Michigan Today. Every issue has one or two articles that knock my socks off.
Duane Niatum
Bellingham, WA |
PS: I am including a poem that will show you how much this poet has meant to me as a writer of poetry and fiction for over 40 years.
You asked us to hear the softest vocable of wind,
Whether slow or swift, rising or falling to earth;
its fragments will drop in to place in the end.
You said, believe, endure, the ironies of birth!
…You secretly burned your tracks to fan the blaze,
and warned the world'll tell us what to dream.
This is why you spoke in tongues to the vine,
wren, snail, bear, sloth, and swamp air.
You almost found an island without decline,
where roots kept your soul exposed to every layer
From "Lines for Rothke Twenty Years After His Death."
GREATLY enjoyed the Linda Walker's piece on poet Theodore Roethke. He was always a godsend for me in my poetry classes, especially with hardboiled types at night who thought poetry was for wimps, full of puff and powder signifying foppery. I'd lull them with a bit of Dylan Thomas and a pinch of E. E. Cummings, then cut to some of Roethke's richest meat. There was never a closed mouth in the room by then, and they were ready to reconsider what a poem was and shut up and listen to their emotions.
Joe Coffman '66
Minneapolis |
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Sheepdogs and jerseys
HERE ARE are our Shetland sheepdogs with their names on their jerseys. Happy holidays to all Michigan fans! |
Paul and Pamela (Wylie) Fellrath, '87 and '86
Peoria, Illinois |
Royal Shakespeare Company and U-M
YOUR SUMMER issue calls to mind the recent article about the triumphal residency—the first of three—by the Royal Shakespeare Company this past March, with more to follow in 2003 and 2005.
I was "present at the creation" of this marvelous RSC-Wolverine partnership. In 1998 or thereabouts, I was the sole invitee at a small dinner in Washington hosted by two RSC representatives who sought advice as to how the Company might expand its reach in the USA. I replied that the Royal Shakespeare Company should establish a presence in the American heartland, specifically at the University of Michigan. Preferably with the support of my longtime friend Philip Power, whose own ties and that of his family with Britain were deep.
In due course, I was requested by the RSC to facilitate an invitation to Phil and Kathy Power to attend a luncheon at the Residence of the British Ambassador, whom I had known since his earlier tour in Washington. One thing led to another, and Philip flew in from Ann Arbor to join me for lunch with Sir Christopher and Lady Meyer, the RSC's Artistic Director Adrian Noble, and a "who's who" of the RSC and of British-American culture. Adrian Noble and Phil Power were seated alongside Lady Meyer. The rest is history, including the spectacular presentation of the History Plays.
At a festive luncheon on March 11, Ken Fischer of the University Musical Society generously acknowledged the contribution of former-Regent Power and his good buddy from the Keweenaw Peninsula, who was a guest of President Bollinger and the RSC and who remains,
Terence Murphy '66 JD, OBE
Washington, DC |
THE RECENT visit of the Royal Shakespeare Company brings to mind that some 35 years ago the Professional Theatre Program of the University of Michigan brought the newly established Shakespeare Festival Theatre of Canada to Ann Arbor for its first venture abroad.
At the inspiration of President Harlan Hatcher and with the continuing support of President Robben Fleming, the University created under the direction of Robert Schnitzer and Marcella Cisney the first University-sponsored professional theater program to complement what was—at that time—one of the greatest academic theater departments in the nation.
Robert C. Schnitzer
Stamford, Connecticut |
Fans of high-tech thrillers
MY WIFE, Judy, and I are both U of M grads from the '60s. I have a BS ('62) and an MS ('63) in physics and worked on a PhD until the $'s ran out (perhaps you remember the Nixon budget cutting of 1966). On the other hand, my wife has a BS in nursing ('66). We moved to Denver from Ann Arbor in late 1966 to join the working world, and I managed to complete my PhD in physics at the University of Colorado somewhat later while working full time. It was much harder that way but well worth the effort.
In any event, we both enjoy each issue of Michigan Today. It allows us to see how the U of M has changed in some ways and remains unchanged in others. We went back a few years ago when the new physics building was dedicated, and managed to get some first-hand data points.
We spent many happy years of our life in Ann Arbor and we greatly appreciate the vicarious enjoyment provided by each issue of Michigan Today. We've read most of the articles in the recent issue. However, the one on Tom Grace ["Architect makes Quantum leap into fiction" by Kurt Anthony Krug] was of particular interest. We both tend to like high-tech thrillers. I, in particular, tend to enjoy spy tales. Much like R&D workers, the people involved in a good spy tale tend to exhibit an extreme amount of creativity and ingenuity. We certainly intend to look for Mr. Grace's two novels at our local book stores, so thanks very much for the tip and the nicely written article. Thank you once again for our triennial vicarious tour of the U of M and the campus.
Ray ('62, '63 MS) and Judy ('66) Rosich
Littleton, Colorado |
KUDOS TO your staff for an excellent Summer issue. There is one minor factual error on page 11 by freelance writer Kurt Krug: the National Corvette Museum is in Bowling Green, Kentucky, 102 miles from Louisville. Tom Grace might have consulted with a firm in Louisville, but the Museum has been in Bowling Green since its inception. Overall, Michigan Today is a joy to read. Occasionally, I have shared some of its articles with colleagues.
John Hardin '89 PhD
Assistant Dean
Western Kentucky University
Bowling Green, Kentucky |
Looking for diversity
WITH U-M's current (and noble) struggle with affirmative action, I would hope that diversity would be one criterion in which you select stories, articles and photographs for the Michigan Today. Yet, I counted only one person of color in your entire summer issue. If you say that there are no notable subjects of color connected with U-M, then my dear alma mater has some even more serious problems to contend with. Though for most alumni, Michigan Today is their only tangible link back to campus. I hope you do better with the next issue. Thanks.
A budding conservationist
YOUR COVER article was on Jeff Flocken. My-10-year-old son is an animal lover and budding conservationist and would love to email Jeff. Do you have an email address or other way to correspond?
Jeff Flocken would like to hear from readers interested in his work, preferably by the post. His address is: Director of Education and Outreach, Conservation International, 1919 M Street, N.W., Suite 600, Washington DC, 20036.—Ed.
University Commons link
We are writing to correct an error in "Condo complex opens for faculty, staff, alumni 55 or older" in the Summer issue. The article incorrectly stated "The U-M Information Technology Division [ITD] recently included University Commons in its high-speed campus wide computer network...." In fact, ITD has not done so and an explanation of what has occurred appears here.
At the start of the University Commons project (then referred to as the "Blue Hills" project), Information Technology Communication Services (ITCS) was asked to provide consultation services to the project for data and video networking with the understanding that University Commons had "University Affiliate" status. It was determined that University Commons did not have affiliate status, and subsequently Merit Network, Inc. was brought in to handle connectivity for University Commons. Merit Network, Inc. is a nonprofit corporation affiliated with U-M.
Dan Kjos
Acting Co-Director, ITCS
Kim Cobb
Director of Communications, ITCS
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Sahlins scores again
I WAS tickled to see the article about Prof. Marshall Sahlins ["6 Are Honored at Commencement," Summer 2001-Ed.]. I took a cultural anthropology course with him back in '62 or '63. He was one of three lecturers I considered truly outstanding during my undergraduate years at U Mich. A few years ago when I was taking a course while working on a master's in bioethics at the Univ. of Pennsylvania, Professor Sahlins was quoted in one of the texts we used. I was thrilled to recognize him then, too. I hope they gave him the ball at the graduation ceremony; I'm sure he scored!
May Louis Waldron '66 BSN
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. . . Fall 2001
