Matthew (Art’92) of Glendale, Calif., sent us this photo of their three-month-old twins, saying they had “just received their first CU Buff gear as gifts!” Their girl, Emerson, is on the left and their boy, Atticus, is on the right. Ironically, they’ve become a Pac-12 family, as dad is a CU alum and mom Kerri Walsh graduated from the University of Southern California in 1998.  When CU moved to the Pac-12, it made them very excited as they’ll get to see CU play the Trojans every other year where they live in Southern California.

A forty-five year resident of Port Washington, Long Island, NY until he moved to Virginia eight years ago, Doc was most recently  Vice President and the assistant to the President of  Value Line,  Inc. While his undergraduate career was interrupted by service as a Lieutenant in the US Naval Reserves, during and after World War II, Doc subsequently received a B.S. in both mechanical and aerospace engineering from the University of Colorado, followed by a Master’s in Business Administration and a Doctorate in Law, both from the Ohio State University.

Doc also was a Certified Public Accountant, and accepted to the Bar in both Ohio and New York. Doc had a long and distinguished career as a consultant and advisor to numerous companies both in the U.S. and internationally.   He was also a long-time civic and community leader in Port Washington, holding positions on the PTA, School Board and the local council of the Boy Scouts of America, among other organizations.

Doc and his late wife, Jan, whom he met at Ohio State, were the proud parents of three sons, Stephen Patrick, of Port Washington, New York, John Edward, of McLean, Virginia, and Thomas Robert, of Knoxville, Tennessee.  Doc is survived by his sons, their partners, and his seven grandchildren, all of whom will miss his advice, counsel, appetite for life, and fierce pride in his Hungarian heritage.

Services will be in Xenia, Ohio, on June 25, 2011, with interment in the family plot beside his beloved Jan.

Robin Melinda Rasmussen (A&S'03)

Robin Melinda Rasmussen (A&S ’03), 30, of Napa, California, lead pastry cook with Solbar Restaurant at the Solage resort in Calistoga, California, died suddenly in an automobile accident near St. Helena, California, on April 27, 2011. She is survived by her parents, Karen and Chris Rasmussen, of Mare Island, Vallejo, California; her family and many friends miss her terribly.

A 1999 graduate of Lewis-Palmer High School in Monument, Colorado, her junior year was spent as an AFS exchange student in Belgium (1997-98). She attended the University of Colorado at Boulder, where she earned a Bachelor of Fine Arts degree (Film Studies) in 2003.

She moved to San Francisco where she worked at MX Entertainment as executive assistant and later at AMB Property Corporation as management administrator. She found her passion in the kitchen and completed the pastry program at Tante Marie’s Cooking School in San Francisco. She moved to Charlottesville, Virginia and Charleston, South Carolina, where she began baking and developing a specialty for wedding cakes. Returning to California’s Napa valley, she worked in the pastry kitchens at Brix in Yountville, then at Ubuntu in Napa.

Her wide circle of friends defined much of her life, a life that touched so many people in so many ways.

A celebration of Robin’s life will be held in California later this summer.

Eileen Brown had this comment after receiving our Buffalum Notes holiday greeting:

Thanks for the memories and the beauty of our campus and life there at one time and still.

I enjoyed climbing the back hill to my dorm (Sewell) after working at Fred’s Café for the day or evening.
Sure felt alive and assured that there were friends waiting for me there, a warm room and books to be studied before the end of the day.

Awesome how we measured our way through all of that: study, work, play and the harmony of living the life of a student of music.

Merry Christmas, Forever Buffs of all beliefs.
Eileen Rose Haffey Brown of 1956

From Michael Charles “Chuck” Hursch (CompSci’88) Larkspur, Calif.

Regarding the open space article in the December 2009 Coloradan, I was an undergraduate physics student of professor Al Bartlett in 1982-83. I see he still wears his trademark bolo tie. I don’t recall being aware of his involvement with open space, but on a related issue, exponential population growth, his remarks on the topic carry with me to this day. It is something I think of frequently, and the images of professor Bartlett down at the lectern discussing this powerful fascinating topic are in my thoughts.

The doubling time of a population undergoing exponential growth can be approximated by the simple formula of 70 divided by the growth rate. The Coloradan article says that Boulder’s growth rate in 1956 was 6 percent yearly, implying a doubling time of roughly 11 to 12 years. Such a powerful small number would take the Boulder population from 32,000 in 1957 to 64,000 in 1968 and 128,000 around 1980, assuming the growth rate remained constant. I believe the Boulder population was actually around 80,000 around 1980, so the growth obviously slowed.

As a teenager growing up in Denver in the early 1970s, I remember riding in my mother’s car in the vicinity of the interchange of I-25 and Hwy. 6 and telling her that I had decided that there were really getting to be a lot more cars on the road. Colorado’s population at that time was roughly two million, mostly along the Front Range corridor. A few years ago I read on the internet that Colorado’s projected population for 2020 was about six million, presumably with most from Fort Collins to Pueblo. I nearly fell out of my chair! If this were to mean something like 8 million by 2030 (a not unlikely prospect), it would mean two doublings had occurred in the 60 years from 1970-2030, or one doubling in 30 years, implying a growth rate of a bit more than 2% per year. Such a small number…

In 1989, I moved to the San Francisco Bay Area to take a software job. I found myself in a major metropolitan area with about, you guessed it, six million people, depending on how one defines the Bay Area. I was overwhelmed with the number of people. San Jose (900,000 to 1 million), San Francisco (800,000), Oakland (300,000-400,000) and innumerable smaller cities of 25,000-100,000, one after the other, carpet the landscape. Eight to 10-lane wide freeways running between endless sound walls, dense suburban subdivisions and office parks and shopping centers and car-sale lots on the other side of those walls, mile after mile, tens of miles to the next California-style triple-decker freeway interchange. When I was first out here, traveling one of those freeways, especially at night, down in South Bay (Silicon Valley) or over in East Bay, refrains of “all alone in the … Big City” would ring in my head as I felt like I was in a tube with a mass of other cars moving down the road.

The Bay Area is roughly the size of the Colorado Front Range corridor, maybe within a factor of two, depending on how you slice it. The typography is quite different, however, from the flat high plains and piedmont of the Front Range. For one, there is the large bay and estuary in the middle. Flat areas rim the Bay and valleys extend away from it – these are where most of the population lives.

Mountainous typography upwards of 4,000 feet is outside of that. It is a very hilly area. It is amazing what gets built out here. But once one gets beyond the maze of freeways and shopping malls, and lets their eyes rest upon the vast acres of open space in the oak-studded hills, with the fog rolling in like a river from the coast over the hills and through the Golden Gate, the Bay Area and Babylon by the Bay, the world takes on a beauty all its own. Part of what makes this area what it is and livable are these visions.

For the last 18 years I have been fortunate to live near open space lands. From my apartment door, all I have to do is cross one parking lot and then I can hike in open space with no cars, their noise and fumes, for seven miles over mountain ridges and valleys to the Pacific coast, or take a different turn to explore thousands of acres of chaparral-covered hillsides or redwood-filled valleys. For several years, part of my commute to work consisted of walking through the edge of this open space. This is one of the main reasons I have lived here this long.

Since I moved out here to the Bay Area, I have been between Denver and Boulder, along the turnpike, only two or three times, notably 1999 and 2008. What were once open fields back in the ’60s and ’70s are now extensive housing developments and office parks, particularly near Broomfield and to the south and east, as I remember it. It really made me sit up and take notice. The character of the area is changing. The Denver area is turning into a big city, on track to those epitomes of sprawl, Houston and Los Angeles.

Exponential population growth, open space, quality of life…

Thanks, Professor Bartlett. Memories of many of your lectures remain with me some 30 years later, and will be with me the rest of my life.

Michael Charles “Chuck” Hursch (CompSci’88)

Larkspur, Calif.

Letter from Maxwell D. Epstein (Soc’54)

The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of “HH” is that there is hardly a day when I do not think about him—something he said or something he did. The reason he had such a profound effect on my young life is that he put into words what I thought and lacked words to say. Here I was, a young Jewish boy from Denver with a businessman father and a Southern Belle mother, suddenly exposed to a powerful, iconic radical, who spoke fearlessly in golden tones, and let the arrows fall where they may.

When I met Howard by attending one of his classes, I was a business major who thought he might go into his father’s cap-manufacturing business. The first time I made an excuse to visit Howard in his office, hoping to get acquainted, he greeted me by leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the desk, almost in my face. I assumed this was some sort of test of my mettle, and so ignored the intended insult and carried on as if nothing had happened. If it was a test, I apparently passed, because we did become acquainted.

Howard was a professor of sociology at CU-Boulder, where he was generally regarded as the greatest lecturer on campus. He was also the founder, in 1948, and dictator, of the greatest conference of its kind (if there was any other of its kind) in the world. This is a claim I hope to demonstrate.

He was also a world-class drinker, who put away a bottle of vodka per evening, and remembered everything the next morning, which gave to such a competitive man an advantage over his sparing partners. He live to be 80 years old, which might seem to be a miracle unless you knew his mother who lived to be 98, and so might he have, if it weren’t for the quart of booze he consumed nightly.

For years my late sister Ruth told me she blamed Howard for my then-heavy drinking. I did not understand how she came to that conclusion until I pressed her to explain, and she told me that Howard “made it seem fashionable to drink a lot.” That now seems possible.

If my goal was to get a doctorate in sociology, and apparently I chose the wrong adviser when I chose Howard. In the first place, his highest degree was a master’s in fine art. Second, he was not especially interested in doctoral degrees, for himself or his students. I cannot blame Howard entirely for never getting my degree (in fact, after my bachelor’s I spent two years as a graduate student, and never got my masters degree, though I passed every requirement except for the dissertation). For years, after I accepted my first professional job, as foreign student adviser at Iowa State University, I tortured myself with the thought that I should not be going to a movie or a party—I should be doing my research. Finally, one day I woke up and told myself, “Max, you are not ever going to do that degree, so get on with your life, your wife and your three children.” With that burden out of the way, I did go on, and retired as dean emeritus of international students and scholars at UCLA. In a peculiar way, this is an honor, because no one else at the University of California, as far as I can ascertain, has ever retired as “dean” with a bachelor’s degree. But this is supposed to be about Howard, so enough about me.

As a physical specimen, Howard was a slender young man in his thirties when I met him, and he gradually became obese as he aged. He also began to look and sound like Orson Welles. As a personality, he ranged from a sensitive, considerate person to a raging bull who insulted everyone, depending on the time of day. At his funeral, in 1995, one of his daughters said of him, “He was like the sun — a blazing mind, but if you got too close, you got burned.”

Howard liked to distinguish between a “drunk” and an “alcoholic.” Alcoholics were those who sneaked a drink before giving a lecture, and drank at any time of the day. Drunks, by contrast, were those who never drank during the day and never drank before a lecture, but allowed themselves to drink all they wanted at the end of the day when their work was done.

One night when Howard had consumed his usual load of hard liquor, he was stopped in his car by a Boulder police officer. When he presented his license, the officer became apologetic and wanted to forget the whole thing. Howard was, by that time, a well-known professor. On the other hand, he wanted no special treatment. He informed the officer that he was drunk, and that he wanted the usual ticket, which the officer then had no choice but to write.  At least one night per week, or more, Howard invited the members of the “Birthday Society” for drinks, scuffles and more drinks. The name was derived form the fact that by coincidence, there was a group of colleagues and their wives who happened to have been born in the same month—April, I believe. There were faculty members who resented being excluded from these soirees, thinking, probably correctly, that being excluded meant missing out on some of the conversations which result in promotions. Marion often absented herself from these parties, and she complained to Howard that his entertainment schedule would lead them to the poor house. These were not “cheese and crackers” evenings. Howard was a superb chef, and he enjoyed entertaining his friends royally.

The Conference on World Affairs

And now, having told of Howard and his society, I can turn to what I regard as his greatest accomplishment: The Conference on World Affairs, held for one full week every April. I call it the greatest conference in the world based on these factors: The quality of the speakers, the size of the audience, the audacity of the topics, the accessibility of the speakers to the local community and the length of the run, beginning in 1946 and continuing to this day, though without Howard, I suspect it is no longer comparable to what it was.

Taking each of these factors in turn, I begin with the quality of the speakers. For example, during my tenure, in the early 1950’s, I met at parties at Howard’s house Buckminster Fuller, Eleanor Roosevelt, Margaret Mead and many others. Fuller, by the way, was Howard’s mentor, as recognized by both men.

Howard expanded the audience by opening it up, not only to the entire campus, but to the community of Boulder and even some from Denver. In the early years, Howard was told by the engineering college that stimulating as the conference appeared, engineering students would not be able to attend the conference sessions because their course load was too heavy to allow for any missed classes. This required a “Higmanian” solution, which Howard was only too happy to provide. He worked with the office that scheduled classes and managed, miraculously, to put his sessions in spaces where classed normally met, leaving the engineering students with cancelled classes and therefore the opportunity to attend conference sessions, some in their very classrooms.

When it came to topics, there were two exceptional factors at work: Nothing was considered too controversial. There were sessions given by Communist government officials (recall this was during the McCarthy days) and speakers who, by normal standards, would be considered “anti-American,” and there were others, equally provocative. Howard and his committee used a unique method of selecting topics in which they would first become familiar with what each speaker knew best, and then assign him or her a totally different topic, on which, on very short notice, they had to put together a talk.

In my case, one of the years I was invited as a speaker. Despite the fact that I was well acquainted with international education, I was assigned to speak on the difference between Japanese and American art. It seems I had told Howard I had been to Japan. To prepare, I ran to Norlin Library, where I read How to Wrap Five Eggs. I also used my observation that in Japan they speak of a 500-year-old bridge, meaning that the form is that old, while individual boards are replaced as needed. In America, we treasure the individual pieces, not the form, so we claim that we have the “London Bridge” in Lake Havasu, Calif. because we took it apart in England, shipped it to California where it was re-assembled. This technique of Howard’s assured that no one could get away with delivering a canned speech from a previous lecture.

In addition to the appearance I made as described above, I attended one other conference as a speaker. That year, Howard scheduled me to open the main plenary session with a celebration of the fact that as a student I brought student participation to the conference for the first time. I was honored both times to appear as a speaker at my favorite conference.

Another contribution to the extraordinary spontaneity of the conference was the fact, unbeknownst to the audience, what they were hearing was a slice of week-long arguments which were carried on in the homes of the faculty hosts who provided housing for the speakers. All of the speakers were required to live in the home assigned, and none could stay in a hotel. It is also significant that all of the speakers paid their own way to the conference and none were paid to participate. When the university recognized that this conference it was a way of putting Boulder on the intellectual map of the world. At the time the President offered Howard $50,000 to help offset expenses. Howard politely refused on the grounds that money form the outside would damage the spirit of the event.

To add to their accessibility to the students, speakers were encouraged to attend fraternity and sorority meetings and to drink beer with the students at Tulagi, the main local beer bar.

A key to conference success

One key to the success of the conference was the way it was organized. The day after one conference closed, the planning committee began work on the next year. This committee, over which Howard ruled with an iron hand, was composed of five or six faculty members from a variety of fields, not all in the social sciences, and as of my year, one student representing all students. Their task was to follow a process in which speakers names were nominated and topics were thrown in and somehow, matches were made. It took the whole year, meeting every week!

Along with the conference, we students organized our United Nations Week, for which we lined the main campus walkway with flags of the nations, scheduled newsreels on world events and for our crowning glory mounted our Model United Nations. Model UNs were not unique, but my year I not only persuaded Howard to make it a part of the Conference on World Affairs week, but I designed it so that the foreign students were representing their own countries. This added a strong note of authenticity to the proceedings.

Years later, when I worked first at Iowa State University, then at UCLA, I produced mini conferences on world affairs, with Howard’s permission to use the name, and invited him as a speaker. Unfortunately, he was beginning to fade, certainly by the time he came to UCLA, and the man upon whom I had heaped such praise turned out to be somewhat of an embarrassment. Still, if I thought being part of my conference pleased him, I would do it again.

As mentioned, Howard was generally considered the best lecturer on campus, partly because of his topics and partly because of his take on those topics. For example, he would draw two sets of concentric circles on the blackboard and label one “Communism” the other “Catholicism.” He then challenged us students to find any difference between the two. He was, I might add, equally at home in political science, psychology and biology. It was from him I first heard the theory that life on Earth emerged from a sea of riboflavin. Surprisingly, Howard never published, and, as mentioned, his highest degree was a masters in fine art, but those facts did not prevent his serving terms as chairman of his department.

At this time, Howard had a student whose name was Marilyn Van Derbur (Engl’60) who was reporting to the FBI on whatever Howard was saying (she was the recent Miss America). This plan lasted until the Denver Post exposed it. For this and other reasons, Howard expected to be denied a passport when was planning to visit Europe, and he told us he was disappointed when he received it with no problems. That trip to Europe, by the way, was an example of Howard’s grand extravagance. He took his wife and their three daughters for a three-month tour of the continent.

With this introduction of Howard as professor and founder of a world-famous conference, we have time for a quick look at some of his other skills.

Renovating a home

For three years, I, along with my three roommates, lived in an apartment below Howard’s house. This was a sexy, dark green and black two bedroom, den, living room, bathroom and kitchen apartment, with delayed-action switches used to control the hidden lights. Before our time, when Howard lived there, he could open the front door from one of several switches around the living room.

According to Howard the house was built by his carpenter father before Howard was born, and he was raised there. At about the age of 18 he began excavating and bracing the space which was to become his home under his parent’s home, and he lived there until his father died, at which time he moved upstairs and rented the apartment to favorite students. Until she died, his mother had her own small apartment in the main house, and Howard used to amuse us by telling his mother that he knew where she hid her key, and he was going to sneak in and take all of her things. The game also amused mother.

As the years went by, Howard systematically made the house and grounds into a villa. This included a walkway between the house and the garage, a distance of some 50 feet. The floor was paved with old bricks. The ceiling was entirely composed of skylights, and the walls were entirely glass in the form of windows which could be opened. This was important because the walkway was also a hot house, where Howard cultivated ferns, a variety of gorgeous orchids and other tropical plants, including gardenias. I recall those gardenias blooming even in winter in their Higman-made environment, and I recall the wonderful fragrance all along the walkway. Along the way there was an antique wall fountain of brass, which served as a convenient source of water.

Arriving at the end, the garage was a different experience. Here the floor was polished black concrete, the walls were used for paintings and books, and the furniture included several overstuffed chairs in outrageous colors. Over all of this was a gigantic chandelier with some 50 small bulbs. As with all of his rooms, this one had a telephone, and it also had a stereo with advanced speakers. This so-called “garage” offered a wonderful place to escape, to think and to relax.

Between the house and the garage there was a gently sloping lawn surrounded by greenery. On one wall there was a large fountain imported from Italy, and over all, there were those small white bulbs one sees at Christmas time.

For the most part, Howard, who was strong as an ox to the end, did his own work, save an occasional assist by a grateful student helper. The design was all Howard, and in fact he was called upon by friends to design their homes and interiors. The electrical work and plumbing was also done by Howard, who was somehow expert in all these fields.

I have already made a brief reference to Howard’ cooking. Let me add that dinner at his house was always memorable. He had a library of cookbooks, a penchant for experiment and the patience of Job when it came to cooking. Whether it was an intimate dinner for four or a feast for 100 conference speakers scattered throughout the house, the result was a gastronomical masterpiece. His style was many courses, each very small so as to tease the palette and each enhanced with just the right wine. Looking at Howard, one would not suspect such subtlety, but it was always there.

There is much more I could write about Howard Higman, who lived from 1915 to 1995, but I hope what I have provided will serve to introduce a great man, the memory of whom will live as long as those who knew him and longer for those who read about him.

Maxwell D. Epstein (Soc’54)

Santa Monica, Calif.

Maggie was the eldest daughter of JC Ryan and Josephine Barrett. Along with her sister Kathy and her brother Barrett, she enjoyed an idyllic life during much of her youth, attending St Theresa’s Academy for the majority of her elementary and high school years. Maggie was initially enrolled at Kansas City University for two years while awaiting her younger sister Kathy’s graduation, as their father was only willing to consent to their wishes of attending school in Colorado on the condition they go together.

Shortly after arriving at CU in Boulder, she met Dave, who worked as a hasher at the Delta Gamma sorority house, serving meals and cleaning tables. Somehow this skinny Navy Vet from Omaha, whom we call Mr. Lucky, won the heart of Maggie who had been chosen as one of the Homecoming Queens earlier that fall, selected by none other than Bing Crosby.

They were married at Christmas time in 1948 and found themselves beginning their family and career life together with the JC Penny Mercantile Co. in beautiful Las Vegas, New Mexico, where daughters Peggy and Karen were born. The young family spent a few years in Twin Falls ID before making their way back to Denver. With the expected arrival of Kathleen, they decided to put down roots permanently. And after the birth of yours truly, they moved to the Pinehurst area in southwest Denver, a development of Dave’s employer. The following 25 years served to be a foundation for many of their longest lasting friendships.

Their children grew and grandchildren followed, all nine grandchildren arriving in a span of 10 years. Both Maggie and Dave devoted much of their time to attending countless recitals and sporting events, award ceremonies and graduations. All the grandchildren looked forward with great anticipation to their own week with Nana upon turning 8, and the annual family gatherings at the YMCA Camp in Estes Park.

A brief snapshot of her full and active life is encapsulated in the past several months; attending grandson James’ graduation in Hawaii, witnessing the marriage of granddaughter Elise to Jay, seeing her eldest granddaughter Laura obtain her doctorate, greeting grandson Matt and wife Sarah at Denver International Airport as they returned from two years in Africa serving with the Peace Corps, and organizing and celebrating daughter Peggy’s 60th birthday at the Broadmoor where she and Dave had spent several anniversaries and have many fond memories and friendships from their involvement with State and National Insurance associations.

Maggie’s life extended well beyond her family, serving numerous charities and participating in many social activities. Her charitable work included the Samaritan House, Denver Soup Kitchen, Colorado Alliance for the Mentally Ill and for over 40 years, the Anchor Center for Blind Children. For her devotion to these organizations and many more, King Soopers and The Denver Post recognized her as Volunteer of the Year in 1989.

Maggie’s life also was filled with many social activities, some of these groups lasting the majority of her life. Her sorority sisters, affectionately known as “The Flashers,” maintained a close relationship for over 60 years. Golf groups, bridge groups, Bible studies and book clubs were all an important part of her life.

We were blessed these past few weeks as Maggie became a great-grandmother to little Breanna Sycuro, and though in hospice and limited in her outwardly expression, she and Dave celebrated 60 years of marriage the day before she passed from this life to the next.

Though her condition came as a complete shock to all, and many tears were shed, it was also a very special time, a sacred time, to share our love for her and say our goodbyes. A woman of deep faith, our mother taught us about a loving and caring God, one whose love for us is unconditional, as was hers.

Jim Navratil (Chem’70, M’72, PhD’75) just returned from a 10-day educational and humanitarian mission to Afghanistan with 10 other Americans and 1 Canadian. He says, “I went from one of the most dangerous cities to one of the safest. In spite of there being 4 bombings and one small earthquake, I was more concerned with carbon monoxide poisoning from the wood stoves in our ‘Afghan for Tomorrow’ guest house–it got very cold at night in Kabul!

“I met some wonderful people in Afghanistan and it is indeed an incredibly beautiful, mountainous country. Some of the people we met were the director of the Afghan Woman’s Union, the director of the Independent Human Rights Commission, the vice president of Afghanistan (at the International Woman’s Day celebration), the director of Afghan EPA, the education minister (who is the former No. 3 ranking Taliban leader), law and economics professors at Kabul University, the country manager for the Wildlife Conservation Society and many others.

Some of the things we got to see were the school for deaf children, the orthopedic hospital, the Kabul museum, Drul Amon Palace, the handicraft market, Istalif village (40 km north of Kabul high in the mountains), Kiing Shah Tomb, the women’s training and vocational center and the maternity hospital.

I even got to play nine holes of golf at the Afghan Golf Club, near a beautiful reservoir surrounded by snow-capped mountains on three sides.

This was a wonderful, wonderful trip. The Afghan people are so kind and friendly, and need our help desperately in rebuilding after 30 years of war. I will return to Colorado shortly to resume my summer job at Hazen Research.”

Best wishes,

Jim

Stampede to Timberline author remembered

Like many first time visitors to Boulder, Muriel Sibell Wolle (MA ’30) was captivated by the community the moment she arrived on campus saying, “I looked at those mountains, and I thought to myself, I don’t know if they are going to like me or not, but I’m staying until they kick me out!”

Advancing from graduate student to instructor, she was head of the Fine Arts Department from 1929-1947 and a faculty member for 40 years.  During her tenure the Rocky Mountains continued their grip on her imagination, which lead to an absorbing summer pursuit. She began venturing into the hills, eventually visiting over 200 towns and camps to sketch the remnants of old mines and mountain communities while interviewing the last of the old timers still living there. The resulting book, Stampede to Timberline: The Ghost Towns and Mining Camps of Colorado (Sage), became a classic record of a vanishing way of life.

Wolle was the 2009 recipient of the “Cherry Hunter Award for the preservation of Mining History through Art” presented by the Mining History Association.  The award, presented posthumously in her honor to the CU Heritage Center where she is recognized as one of CU’s Notable Alumni, will be used to frame one of her original sketches given to the Alumni Association.  A dozen of Sibell Wolle’s water colors and sketches can be seen in the beautiful Penfold Dining Room at the Koenig Alumni Center.

I lived in a Quonset hut in Vetsville in the early to mid-60s. Our son Robert, now a CU researcher (see below) is shown playing in front of our hut with a neighbor boy. We gave our children the large bedroom because the two bunk beds would not fit in the children’s bedroom. To make the bunk beds fit, we had to take the headboard off one of the bunk beds and use the foot of the other bed for support. The older children got the full length bunk bed (upper & lower), and the younger got the shorten bunks. We had a lot of action in the bedroom with going to the bathroom, crying and falling out of bed.

We entertained the neighbors who shared the other end of our Quonset with only a plywood wall between our two families. One night I heard a child cry and I went to check on our children, and they were all in bed, and the child was still crying. I realized it was our next door neighbor’s son crying. I had to pound on the wall and tell the parents it was their child that needed help, not ours.

By the way, each Quonset hut was 20 ft. x 40 ft. with a family living in each end.  Each family had less than 400 square feet of housing and the curved roof further limited the useful space.. Our children loved to play with insects, and one day in March with 6 inches of snow on the ground we had a 4-inch yellow Western Tiger Swallowtail butterfly flying around in our hut. The children had brought in a swallowtail caterpillar to play with in the fall, and it got away and they could not find it. It must have made a chrysalis to survive the winter, but misread the warmth of the hut as spring and emerged in our hut early. It made a great show and tell at Lincoln elementary school (now Naropa University). Nunzy and Robert both enjoyed surprising their classmates with their catch of the day. Snow and a butterfly on the same day.

You asked about the two boys both named Robert. One was ours, and the other was a boy who the neighbor to the south was baby-sitting. Because they played so well together, it was agreeable to the neighbor’s wife and my wife to share the boys’ time together. We do not remember Robert’s last name, but we would like to know what happened to him. Our Robert Leben (Aero’81, MS’82, PhD’86) went to CU and majored aerospace engineering. He is now a research professor at CU.

As you can see, my wife is a mainstay of our marriage. It took great courage for her to move her family into a 400 sq. foot Quonset hut at CU two different times with a growing family in order to allow me and my family to achieve the many things we have done in our lifetime.

One more thing about my time at CU: I graduated after the summer session in 1966 on a Saturday, but I didn’t attend the mandatory graduation because I had to move back home to begin my teaching career on Monday. The dean gave me special permission to miss my graduation.

Born in Trinidad, Colo., in 1908, she was a graduate of the University of Colorado in 1931.

Plested had a long and successful career as a journalist, having lived in New York City where she worked for the New York Times and the New York Herald Tribune. After the outbreak of World War II, Plested returned to Colorado where she worked for Denver radio station KMYR, and later was the the western correspondent for Fairchild News Service, the umbrella organization for Women’s Wear Daily.

When President Dwight Eisenhower suffered a heart attack in Denver in 1955, Plested covered that event, and was one of two women who were members of the summer White House Press Corps during the Eisenhower administration. She also covered Jackie Kennedy when she and her family visited Colorado for a holiday skiing vacation in the early 1960s.

Plested was a member of the Denver Woman’s Press Club, and a member of Warren Methodist Church in Denver were she was a founder of Warren Village, a church sponsored home for women and their children in Denver. She was also a founder of the Friends of Historical Trinidad and the Mitchell Museum of Western Art in Trinidad.

She was a lifelong supporter of the CU Buffs football program.

Plested leaves many nieces and nephews and friends of all ages and walks of life.

Denver Woman’s Press Club website member page for Dolores Plested.

Do I have memories of Sewall Hall! I was a residence advisor of the right side of Sewall Hall in 1962-63. My little “apartment” was just off the huge living room. Sewall was an upper-class women’s resident hall.

We called it Menopause Manor. The women and I obeyed most of the rules and had wonderful times together.

Sewall had beautiful furniture. One of the stellar furnishings was a grand piano. It was regularly tuned, but no one used it. I’d taken piano- classical- as a child. Hated it. The grand drew me. I began to play bits of old, memorized pieces. Finally I bought a couple of jazz books and went off in a new musical direction. I remember studying in my room, playing to relax, studying, playing. Sometimes I play now for Semester-at-Sea voyages in the Piano Lounge, an avocation that began in Sewall.

Women had curfew hours. Another rule was they had to wear skirts to dinner every night. The winter of 1962 was “wicked” cold. Revolt was in the air. I made a deal with the residents that they could wear long pants (not jeans) to dinner every day it was below freezing. No one wore skirts for a long time.

The years of 1962-63 were full of transition, unrest, hi-jinx and panty raids. Students used to trash the dorms during the panty raids. If anything seemed to be brewing, we had a “lock-down.” One evening the head of housing called me. Students were throwing rocks at the president’s house. Would I walk over to see how much trouble was brewing? When I arrived, folks were tossing small stones at the president’s windows, but it was mostly party time. As I stood there watching, patrol vans rolled in, police jumped out and formed a ring around students – and I was in it.

No one was impressed that I was an RA. My one phone call to the head of housing saved me, but on the front page of the student newspaper (or Boulder Daily Camera) the next day was a picture of the students being arrested – and me. I sent the pictures home to Mom and Dad.

The corrugated outer texture of Sewall gave finger and toe holds to ardent swains who became human flies after hours. I dug them out of closets and from under beds when folks reported them on the floors. But I just threw them out and didn’t bring charges. C’est la vie. I did report a mountain climber who scaled the fountain side of Sewall and broke one of the sandstone blocks as he rappelled down from the his love or lust’s second floor window.

Many of us were broke and far from home the winter of ’62. Thanksgiving approached and it was depressing – no family – eating in the dorm. Sewall had a large, magnificent dining room with elegant furniture. I called a dorm meeting with the women who would be staying with me for Thanksgiving. We decided to “dress” for dinner. The staff pitched in and there were candles and, really, a banquet. I remember the fabulous food, sugared grapes, “jeweled” fruit, and music to this day. Eyes sparkling, we read, recited, or shared a memory around our banquet table. With the joy of Sewall Hall memories and frank astonishment, we became a family for that evening, which continued into a pajama night of talk, songs, and games in the living room.

I hope these words are poignant. My life’s journey led from Sewall to marriage and Spain. Later I became a University of Pittsburgh professor of theatre for nearly 30 years. I’ve never returned to little Boulder. Tulagi, the Sink, The Terrace, and Sewall remain forever unchanged in my eclectic memory.

Krista Correll Butler
April 15, 1951-November 4, 2009
Posted: 11/07/2009 12:52:08 PM MST

After a long and courageous battle with Ovarian Cancer, Krista Correll Butler of Longmont, died at the Hospice Care Center in Louisville at 7:20 p.m. on November 4th with her husband and two sisters at her bedside to comfort her in the exit of this life and the beginning of a new journey.

Krista was born on April 15, 1951 in Tachikawa, Japan where her father was stationed in the Air Force at the time. The daughter of Thomas and Mary Hellen (Graves) Correll, she was then given the opportunity through the military to see and travel many parts of the world and United States prior to attending St. Lawrence University. She then moved west where she met and married Chris Butler on October 1, 1982 at Flagstaff Mountain and eventually presented her husband with the ultimate gift, their now 14 year old daughter Kassi.

Through the years on the front-range she has worked with her sister Holly to run a small chain of lingerie stores before moving on to an extensive career with the University of Colorado, including the Financial Aid Department and finally serving as the Director of Stewardship at the CU Foundation.

Krista was also always willing to help others in any way—at any time. She was active in her daughters Girl Scout troop—and a cofounder of the Pro Leisure Tour, which was organized to benefit the Expand Program through a yearly golf tournament, just to mention a couple of the so many.

She is survived by her husband Chris and daughter Kassi of Longmont. She is further survived by her sisters Holly Antoun of Genesee and Lauren Cole of Santa Rosa, California.

Cremation has been entrusted to Howe Mortuary and Cremation Services in Longmont.
A celebration of Krista’s life will take place at “The Spice of Life Event Center” located at 5706 Arapahoe Ave, Boulder, CO. on Thursday, November 12th at 4:00 p.m.

Chris and Kassi also request that all welcomed friends and family wear semi-casual and colorful attire to fittingly match what has been a big part of Krista, a vibrant personality and glowing character that she has always presented with a radiant smile. She would surely want and be pleased with that.

Any memorial contributions are requested by her husband to be given to the Anschutz Cancer Research Center in Denver to help in the ongoing fight against a frightening and dreadful disease.

Please share your thoughts, memories and condolences with the family at www.howemortuary.com

A few have lived here before
in peace and harmony, where
moonlight still shines brilliantly
orange in October’s haze.

And along Gu Lou street you may hear
the clomp, clomping, sound
of old horses—–pulling tourists
to and from the Confucius Temple.

Here there are intricate
roof patterns and those
ancient eaves, built to overlap

fill in space, as if sky and eaves
were lovers—–touching over and under.

Books by Victor Pearn.

Photo by Casey A. Cass

On Friday, Oct. 16, as part of Parents Weekend we will celebrate the 75th  birthday anniversary of the opening of Sewall Hall.  Sewall was the first hall built on the CU campus and is a beautiful building.

We are tentatively planning on having a guest speaker to talk about the history of Sewall.  We have gone to the archives and gotten photos of Sewall Hall, and we also have the schematic drawings of the building.  There will be a “pinning” ceremony where all of the current Sewall residents will be presented with a special pin we are making.  There will also be refreshments.  We will be sending out invitations to luminaries in student affairs and housing and dining services.

The event is not open to the general public as we don’t have room – it will be held in the Harding Lounge of Sewall.  If you have any questions, please feel free to contact Martha Shernick, program coordinator of the Sewall RAP program, at 303 492-6004, who has been working with Jeanie Lusby to organize this event.

You are all beginning your journey towards a newfound freedom and independence. But don’t confuse this independence with isolation. Because today, you become a BUFF. Today, you enter into a family of 220,000 fellow CU students, both past and present who share a bond with you that is “forever”. Today, you join a network of people who share a special connection with you who want to see you succeed, and will do whatever they can to help you get there.

The CU Alumni Association has instituted a program called “Forever Buffs” which helps the proud alumni of this university engage with current students like you. Through Forever Buffs, you are able to connect with CU students of the past, present, and future, and together, let the light of CU shine beyond this campus. From this day forward, you are a part of a program which fosters lifelong relationships between students and alumni, creates strong social and professional networks among Buffs of all ages, and develops a culture of giving back to the CU community that has touched the lives of literally hundreds of thousands of lives.

I can hardly believe that I am entering my senior year at CU. I entered here feeling like I was one OUT OF thousands. But I am on my way out, knowing that I am one WITH thousands. I only have one year left as a student at the University of Colorado, but I will be a buff FOREVER. My CU family will be with me after I leave Boulder, helping me network for my first job, giving me advice on the sports broadcasting field that I want to get into, and providing familiarity if I move to another city.

For you, it starts today. Today, you are one WITH thousands. Feel that…believe that. There is something about this university that instills the desire to engage, to contribute, and to celebrate. So engage in YOUR university, contribute to …and let those who have experienced CU before you, and those who will after you, be a part of you FOREVER.

Now and Always…FOREVER BUFFS!

Click here to view the embedded video.

First of all, the last time I was in Boulder was probably the late ‘70s. The drive from Denver to Boulder has drastically changed. It is now solid industry or apartment complexes. I kept talking to myself to remain positive because I did not want to be disappointed with CU.

As we drove over the last rise…there she was….Williams Village….None of us liked it when it was built. As we drove around campus, my daughter kept saying, it is such a beautiful school.  It is. It is unique. She is in graduate school this year and thinking about law school after she obtains her masters. We stopped at the new law school building, and we were able to join a tour of the facility. Impressive.   A very nice enthusiastic third year law student was our guide.

After a meal on the Hill (sad to see so many vacant retail buildings), we headed back to Denver for a party.  Thank you CU!  You get better and better. I am proud again to say I graduated from CU…now that Ward Churchill is gone.

Kristin Krueger Mueller (DistSt’69)

Boulder: Yesterday and Today: A Photographic Retrospective by Robert Castellino

A Photographic Retrospective is a photographic compendium and chronicle of how local and world events and intrepid people have made this place into the Boulder we know today. As the story in this book unfolds, it will highlight eight photographers’ lives during a period of time when they were influential and left a substantial photographic record. Their photographic legacy is our visual window of understanding into Boulder’s past and her story. It is our connection to yesterday placed in juxtaposition with our perspective today.

Bob Brunner (PolSci’60MBA’63) got interested in oriental rugs when he retired in 2001 and decided to research his roots, particularly his two grandfathers. One grandfather was a direct descendant of the great Scottish poet Robert Burns. The other came to the U.S. from Armenia in 1886.  He brought with him a Persian rug, which Bob inherited in 1997. In the last eight years Bob has collected 80 rugs from all over the world. He says he considers these rugs to be his most spectacular.

This portrayal of the Madonna and Child rug, called “Our Lady of Perpetual Help,” (click image for larger version) was woven about 1910 in the town of Kerman, Iran, at a factory owned by Americans. The story is that Jesus was about three years old and playing in a field. He looked up and saw a vision of himself on the cross at age 33. It scared him so much he ran to his mother, Mary, and he ran so fast a sandal fell off.

He is looking at the vision, but Mary is not permitted by God to see it, so her eyes are focused in a different direction. The rug is woven in the Byzantine style,  with the top of the rug a garden (familiar to the Muslim weavers) instead of angels with wings common in other versions of the Madonna.

The Lenin rug (click image for larger version) was woven by students at Vaghudi High School in southern Armenia in 1970 to commemorate the 100th anniversary of Lenin’s birth. The scar on Lenin’s neck shows where his enemies tried to assassinate him with a knife attack.  The writing at the bottom is in Armenian. Armenia was a part of the Soviet Union from 1920 through 1990 but is now an independent country.

Update: Bob’s brought us another new image. Read more.

Here are some responses:

From Lloyd W. Hanson (MMus’77, PhD’82):

The first signs of spring appear as the mountains begin to shed their snow. On the campus spring arrives earlier as the days become warmer and ground life begins to appear and students emerge from the weight of studies and winter’s overwhelming suppression. Sharing on the CU commons became an everyday delight. All the world provides an assurance of what lies ahead and how wonderful it is to live it. Life on the CU campus is more than special; it is an essence that we all hold throughout our lives.

From George Bailey (Bus, ChemEngr’58):

Snow in the shadows

A massive Chinook

Then calm and sunny and the radio playing “springtime in the Rockies.”

From Tom Siratovich (A&S’61):

My analysis of Front Range Colorado seasons: Two and 5/8 seasons: winter; summer; one-half an autumn, which is wonderful; and a “sliver” of spring- half a dozen non-consecutive days interspersed between winter and summer weather. Then sometime in May, summer arrives.

From Marti Patten (Bus’78):

I remember slogging through snow. In 1975 the temperature went below zero. I also remember lying out on our house’s sundeck seeking the perfect tan one day, then wearing turtlenecks and sweaters the next. The worst snow I remember was mid-May 1978, when we got about a foot and a half over the weekend. Good thing I didn’t have any Monday classes that semester. Took me until Tuesday to dig out.

From Jean Laughlin (MedTech’47):

I remember taking a sunbath in April and getting what I thought would be a beautiful tan. Instead it turned out to be a dreadful sun burn that made me quite sick

From Joseph Canaday (AmerSt’99):

Although it was a bit ago, I can recall semi-hazy mornings from the brief walk I took from Sterns West to Darley Commons. The sky at dawn revealed the thin layered silhouette of white snow on the Flatirons surrounded by the coniferous trees that engulf Chautauqua, all illuminated by the early morning sun. My mornings were quite ritualistic at Williams Village and every day began with a cold crisp glass of cranberry juice in addition to making sure my assignments were tucked away in my book bag. I would get up to speed on campus life with the latest Colorado Daily while I ate my breakfast and prepared for my day.

After breakfast, I would secure my belongings and take the Will Vill bus to main campus where I would proceed with my morning by taking the renowned walk from in front of Imig Music to either Norlin Library, Hellems or the chemistry building passing the fountain and catching a glimpse of the University Memorial Center on the way. I would enter Norlin Library and proceed to the basement, passing the numerous rows of index file drawers that were situated in the basement, finally making it to my expository writing course. After my morning class I would exit Norlin and walk towards Muenzinger and catch the bus again just in front of Gamow Tower back to Williams Village for lunch.

The transport on the Williams Village bus was indeed memorable, as the mood of the bus was quite often defined by who the bus driver was. Occasionally there would be a bus driver that would play Celtic music, other days alternative or classic rock…regardless of what music was playing there was a collective feeling of pride and accomplishment as all Will Vill residents returned to their dormitories after early morning or afternoon classes.

Thanks for prompting me to recall my days at CU Marc, I am comforted in the fact that I will always have those memories to recollect on, as they were indeed amazing and memorable times

From Ted Quill (Mktg’76):

I remember it snowing on May 1 one year. It was a fairly deep snow. Of course two days later it was all gone, the sun was out, and we were all out on the lawns tanning and studying for finals

From Robert Roe (Mktg’58, MA’59):

Walking across campus and finding I’m walking behind Marilyn Vanderbur (Engl’60), Miss America, in a camel haired coat with penny loafers. I remember sitting in the quad in front of the library, reading a textbook and listening to the water course down the ditch and all of a sudden feeling a general wetness setting in on my pants. Someone had blocked off the ditch and was irrigating the lawn. Remember the Sink and Tulagis and watching fellow students staggering out of both (“and they said you couldn’t get high on 3.2 beer!”)? I remember two of my professors in business, John Kline and F. K. Bangs, both gone now and remembering in accounting class, debit next to the windows and credit next to the doors of the room. I remember wanting to be a frat man, but Mom and Dad said they had enough money for one year if I joined, but if I would not, they would see me through four years. Needless to say I got my bachelors in management in 1958 and my masters in marketing in 1959 and went on to get my doctorate in marketing at the University of Washington in 1970, where I met my future wife, and then taught at the University of Wyoming for 40 years. I retired as associate professor in marketing emeritus. It was a good time.

From John McCrumm (ElEngr’33, MS’34):

Even though it was long ago, I remember the thrill of the first climb of the year up the face of the Third Flatiron and of another ascent in the Red Rock’s Amphitheater up McCrumm’s Crack. I remember, too, how excited I was to be leaving my beloved University of Colorado and heading east to start my engineering career at General Electric. The Great Depression was nearing an end and I was lucky to have a job.

From Charles Goddard (Bus’37)

I remember how glad I was that winter quarter finals were over and that we would have a spring break – I graduated in 1937 and Boulder was on the quarter system then – I’m 93 and a half.

From Vikki Viskniskki Woods (Spch’58):

Well, as a freshman back in 1954 we were required to take either a math course or a philosophy course. Since I’ve never been much good with numbers, I chose philosophy – it’s literature, right?

My professor was Mr. Nelson – sorry, I can’t remember his first name. I took the first semester and spent a great deal of time in his office trying to understand the concepts of philosophy. I understood the terms and could, by rote, define them, but I never really understood them.

Then came May — spring in Boulder. The trees are budding, the birds are singing and I’m stuck inside on a glorious sunny day with a three-hour final exam. I opened the blue book, took out my sharpened pencils and began to define the terms. No problem.I then read the first of three essay questions. No problem, I answered it with all the knowledge I had. The same with the other two essays.Like a good student, I went back and reviewed all the work I had done. I had completed the exam….in 30 minutes! But this was a three-hour exam!

I reread, thought about what I’d said, but could not come up with anything else to say. And it was way too nice just to sit in the classroom for another 2.5 hours! So, I wrote on the top of my exam, “Mr. Nelson, Mr. Nelson, oh my goodness me, how I wish, how I wish my work deserves a C,” walked to the front of the class, put the booklet on the professor’s desk and left. Needless to say, the intake of breath from the rest of the class was audible. When the final grades were given out, I did get the C. But I’ve always wondered….if I’d said “B,” would I have gotten that grade?

From Evelyn Norell Pratt (Zool’51):

You’re not gonna like this! How about wildflowers and wood ticks? (I was a member of the UC Hiking Club, ‘way back when the earth’s crust was cooling.)

From Chaz Miller (Law’75):

Daffodils blooming during a February sunny spell and one first week in May when the lilacs by the student union gushed forth in color and fragrance.

From Mark Emond (Phil’54):

Since 1994, my wife Jean (Jour, PolSci’54) and I have lived in the foothills 35 miles northwest of Fort Collins. We have become very aware of the strong winds in these localities periodically, including Boulder, especially in the late winter and spring. We have both commented that we don’t remember strong winds in Boulder when we were there all year for four to five years. Surely there has been no change in foothills climate. Have you ever examined this peculiarity? Or is it just the two of us.

Carol Searing Forney (Hist’64)

Springtime at CU was the beginning of the “tanning season.” By the time students left campus for the summer, they already had a great start on their tans. I was a resident adviser at an off-campus boarding house and I witnessed the class-cutting to take advantage of the hot sun!

From Susan Chappell (Hist’80):
Spring (or any season in Boulder) was a glorious and special time to be a part of. I fondly remember the Flatirons, a magical memory of youth. The fascinating thing about spring in Boulder was that each year was different and totally unexpected. One year there was a huge, (in Colorado terms) snowstorm over Easter and the campus was gorgeous. Other years it was the deep Colorado blue sky that witnessed early changes and led the way to all of the university’s traditions – the Trivia Bowl, bike races and various folk that appeared on campus around spring time. The memories will always remain strong and happy. Go Buffs!

From David Asher (CommDisor’72, PhD’78):

I was discharged from the U.S. Army during Vietnam and enrolled at CU under the G.I. Bill. As I walked across campus to take my final exams in the spring of 1970, I was gassed by the National Guard. Screw them and screw CU for allowing them on campus.

I was living in a dormitory room that had a closet located just the other side of  the center of that sheer wall, which made the plan possible. I used a long thin concrete drill to make a hole thru my closet wall to the outside of the building. I had made a peace sign from an aluminum snow saucer using orange reflective tape for the peace symbol. Inside the convex saucer was a bracket and a steel cable and spring to hold it tight to the wall when it was pulled into place. I dropped a fishing line from my window and pushed another line attached to a wire out from the hole in my closet and then tied them together where they had landed on the roof of the cafeteria. I then had a way to pull a guide line going out my window, around the corner, and into my closet. I waited for a snowstorm, when the visibility was minimal, and dropped the peace symbol out the window and pulled it into position with the guide line and the steel cable.

Finally, I tensioned the cable by pulling the saucer tight to the wall and packed epoxy into the hole around the cable and tied the end of the cable to my bed, keeping it in place until the epoxy dried. I spent the night in the library, anxiously waiting for the epoxy to cure before the sun came up, worried that it would be discovered before we were ready. Fortunately, just before dawn, the epoxy was dry enough to cut the cable inside the closet, and I finished with a little dab of textured body putty to fill the hole and painted over it so it could not be discovered. I had matched the color and painted my closet a month before so that I would have just the perfect paint to cover that spot.

It turned out that many people were inspired by the sign and started calling Williams Towers by the name Peace Village. Many attempts were made to remove the sign over the following weeks, but to no avail. When grappling hooks were used, the sign just pulled out a little, rotated, and popped back into place against the wall. On several occasions my roommate and I were suspected of installing and even controlling the sign because of our obvious location, but when our closet was inspected with painstaking scrutiny there was no telltale mark to give us away. The sign stayed up despite ever more aggressive attempts to remove it, until finally on Spring break, a window washing platform was suspended from the top of the Tower and the peace sign was cut off with an acetylene torch. An attempt was made to prove that it was an inside job by driving a rod back into the outer hole to open up the hole in our closet, but since there was a space between the outer brick wall and the internal block wall, the rod just kept being deflected by the internal cable that was left behind, and the mystery of how that peace sign was anchored to a sheer brick wall was never resolved. Until  now.

Just a few memories of the early days post WWII as requested in the March 2009 Coloradan.

Remarks by Christine M. Arguello (Edu’77)

Investiture for United States District Judge for the District of Colorado

December 5, 2008

Ladies and gentlemen, cherished family and friends, esteemed colleagues and honored guests:

First let me thank the Colorado Hispanic Bar Association and all my dear friends at the CHBA for this beautiful robe – I can think of no better symbol of your friendship and respect than this gift, which I shall cherish.

Words cannot express the emotions I am feeling today as I consider the responsibility that has been entrusted to me by this appointment. Perhaps this is because in my heart, today is really yesterday – a day more than 40 years ago when, as a 13-year-old, I picked up a magazine in the library and found myself entranced by the world of the law, and with the prospect that I could become a lawyer – an advocate for those who could not advocate for themselves.

In the decades that have followed that day, I am privileged to have been such an advocate, as well as a teacher, and now, today, a guardian of the law. In each of these roles, I hope I have been steadfast in my responsibilities as a citizen, and it is with respect for my fellow citizens that I wish today to share, with them, and with you, a little bit of who I am, and what I will bring to the role of United States District Judge for the District of Colorado.

I think the people deserve to know who presides over their courts and what we bring to that enormous responsibility. I bring a number of big dreams realized. Even as a barber’s daughter in Buena Vista, Colorado, I dreamed big. Maybe it was the altitude, or maybe it was my attitude. Either way, I was fortunate not only to have such dreams, but to be encouraged to pursue them by my father, and my mother, my wonderful husband Ron, and by many other key mentors and friends who saw my potential and reached out to grab my hands and help pull me up that steep incline of life.

But first, back to my “Eureka” moment when the “lawyer” light bulb went on for me. As a child, I was an avid reader. I discovered that marvelous entity known as the public library during the summer after my 4th grade year. And believe me, I was a frequent visitor to that little library in Buena Vista – trekking the two miles from my home on the outskirts of Buena Vista to the library at least 3 times a week during the summer – because I was only allowed to check out 3 books at a time. You can ask my dear sister Elaine and she will tell you that, much to her chagrin, I was the type of kid who would rather spend time reading than doing anything else, and that included playing with her. Because in my family only the “girls” did the housework and cooking and I was the oldest girl so most of the responsibility of helping my mom fell on my shoulders, often, in order to read, I had to sneak off and climb my reading tree, where hidden by the foliage, I could spend hours immersed in the life of Laura Ingalls Wilder or Jo of Little Women. And even when I heard my mom calling for me to come in to peel the potatoes or iron the clothes, I just could not pull my nose out of that book, although I knew I was going to get a whipping when I finally did climb down from my reading tree.

One day, as I waited for my friend who was querying the librarian about a book she was looking for, I happened to pick up a news magazine – I don’t remember if it was Time or Newsweek but it was a news magazine of that sort – and, leafing through it, found an article on lawyers and law schools.

I have to say that lightning struck me. I was swept away – partially by images of Harvard University with its stately red brick buildings with the pillars and black iron gates and, of course, its ivy. And partially by the sheer power of what the text conveyed about what the law and its advocates could achieve for people and for our nation. From that moment on, I was on a new mission – I no longer wanted to be a teacher, I wanted to be a lawyer and I wanted to go to Harvard Law School.

Incidentally, knocking “teacher” off the top of my list of careers was no mean trick. Based on a previous “Eureka” moment that had transpired about three years earlier, I had committed to become a teacher and inspire kids, just like Mrs. Cole had inspired me. We had just moved to Buena Vista in October of my fourth grade year so that my dad could open up his barbershop, and it was the first time I attended public school instead of Catholic school. Unfortunately for me, my experience with the nuns was not positive. My memories are of strict, humorless nuns with rulers in their hands meting out discipline for such things as speaking Spanish on the playground or putting your shoes on the wrong foot. Needless to say, I hated school and was counting the days until I hit 8th grade (some how I had gotten it into my head that you could drop out in 8th grade) so I could drop out of school and get a job.

Fortunately for me, God had other plans in mind. My 4th grade teacher at Irving W. Avery Elementary School in Buena Vista was Mildred Cole. Mrs. Cole was one of those teachers that when she told the class she wanted the room so quiet she could hear a pin drop, the class immediately quieted down. Mrs. Cole liked me because of my Catholic school manners, bearing, and respect for authority. Every time she called on me I would stand up to address her – “yes, ma’am” or “no, ma’am”. This behavior caused my classmates to giggle, but I could tell it pleased Mrs. Cole, so I didn’t mind. Anyway, one day Mrs. Cole came up behind me as I toiled in my phonics workbook and I froze in terror, expecting the ruler at any minute to slash across the knuckles of my hands. Instead, she leaned down and, noticing I was working on making up the pages I had missed, patted me on the back and whispered kindly in my ear, “My, aren’t you ambitious?”

I didn’t know what “ambitious” meant, but I could tell by the encouraging tone of her voice that she was complimenting me and that “ambitious” had to be a positive word. During recess, I looked up the word in the classroom dictionary and discovered that ambitious meant – “having a strong desire for success or achievement.” I decided that being ambitious was a good thing and I decided then and there that I would be ambitious and instead of dropping out of school when I got to 8th grade, I would stay in school and grow up to be a teacher just like Mrs. Cole – my first teacher mentor.

So, it was not an easy decision to give up that dream and assume my new aspiration of becoming a lawyer and going to Harvard Law School. But from seventh grade through my junior year in high school, I did not waiver in my Harvard ambitions. I didn’t know anything about Harvard, other than that the magazine said it was the “best” law school in the country and that is what I wanted for myself – “the best.” In my simple thinking, I figured that to get into the “best” school I would have to be the “best” student. So, from that day forward, it wasn’t good enough for me to get merely A’s in my classes, I had to have the top grade in all my classes. And if I didn’t get it the first time, I would just work harder and make sure I set the curve the next time. It helped that I had smart and supportive friends like Jolene Flowers Ahrens, who together with her mother Eva Flowers, traveled from Buena Vista today to share in this celebration with me. I remember that at the beginning of our freshman year, Jolene told me that she wanted to be Valedictorian of the class. I asked her what that was, because I had never heard the term. She said it was the student in the class that had the highest grades and that student got to give the speech at graduation. I said, “That sounds good to me. I think I will be Valedictorian.” And, throughout high school Jolene and I were neck to neck in the competition to be class valedictorian. But there was never any jealousy or negative competition, we just helped inspire one another to be and do our best.

And though I did not waiver from my dream, neither did I share my dream publicly with anyone. Deep down I instinctively knew that others would not really understand or accept the idea of Phil the barber’s daughter going to Harvard Law School. This knowledge reached its zenith during my junior year in high school.

On a late spring day – the kind when most students are daydreaming about being anywhere but in school and a few are projecting their lives forward into the future – my high school English teacher, Mrs. Cecilia Poplin decided to go around the room and ask each of us what we were going to do with our lives after we graduated high school.

Each student volunteered his or her big plans. This one was going to be an engineer, that one a teacher, another one a hair dresser. My classmates became enthralled with each other’s possibilities, applauding and offering words of encouragement to each in turn. As I listened with one ear, a raging debate was going on in my head – should I tell them? Will they support me? Finally, my turn came. After hearing all the acclaim of my classmates for one another’s big plans, I let my guard down, figuring they would greet my grand ambitions with the same applause and encouragement they had given to one another.

So, when the question was directed at me, “What about you, Chris?” I forthrightly declared my intentions. “I am going to be a lawyer and I am going to go to Harvard Law School.” I waited for their response, expecting some words of encouragement or support. And I waited—Instead, I got stunned looks and— silence. Deafening silence, for what seemed to me like hours. Then my worst nightmare: a few nervous giggles and then someone broke the silence: “Ha Ha Ha – Chris Martinez thinks she can go to Harvard.”

Although the rest of that day is a blur in my memory, to this day I can still feel that turmoil of emotions and the sharp stab of pain that struck me to the bone. I remember hiding in the bathroom until well after school was out because there was no way I was going to let anyone to see me cry. As I walked down the now silent, empty hallways of my school on the way out to my rusted out 1960 Ford which I had bought for $50, the laughter of my classmates ringing in my ears, I began to doubt myself. “My friends are right. Who did I think I was? What made me think I was so special that I could get into a school like Harvard?” And so, with the echo of laughter ringing in my ears, the flame that was my dream began to sputter and fade. But again, that was not part of God’s Greater Plan for my life. Instead, Mrs. Poplin intercepted me just as I was ready to walk out of the school. In fact, years later I realized she had been waiting for me. She stopped me, looked me straight in the eye, and, unwavering, said “Chris, I know you can do it.” These 7 words from a person that I deeply respected were all I needed to re-ignite the flame of my ambition – one person who believed in me! I returned to school the next day more determined than ever to accomplish whatever dreams or goals I set for myself. And I haven’t waivered since.

I often think about Mrs. Poplin – about whether I would be speaking to you here today, if she had not found me that awful day more than 30 years ago. Later, in my law school years at Harvard, I wrote to Mrs. Poplin and I expressed to her how important her belief in me had been to me at a critical tipping point in my life. A number of years ago, Mrs. Poplin’s daughter contacted me to tell me that her mother had passed away. She told me that she had found my letters and she just wanted to let me know how much those letters had meant to her mother. She told me that she had found them tucked safely away in her mother’s bible and by their condition she could tell that her mother had read them many times.

This story is a tribute to all those teachers out there, like my husband Ron, my sister Elaine, my friends Carol Silva and Rick and Veronica Gallegos who, despite low pay, never have waivered from their dedication to preparing the next generation of kids and inspiring them to be all that they can be. It is because of people like Mrs. Poplin and my husband that I have such a commitment to mentoring others – many of whom are sitting in this courtroom today.

I tell that story when I speak to young people for all the obvious reasons – because they need to know what determination can achieve; because it’s good for them to learn the value of not ridiculing the dreams of their classmates; but also, because I want them to understand that all it takes is for one person to believe in you and to express that belief to help you keep your dreams on track.

As for my friends, I eventually forgave them because I came to understand that their laughter was not of spite, but rather, was of incredulity and an inability to comprehend such grand dreams. No one from Buena Vista, as far as they knew, had ever attended Harvard Law School. I later came to find out that I was a bit ahead of my time – the year I decided that I was going to go to Harvard was 1968 – the year I confided my dream to my classmates was 1972. Harvard did not admit its first Chicana until 1974.

My path to this courtroom was blazed by so many other mentors – great professors at CU-Boulder, Harvard Law and later KU Law School where I taught law; attorneys in the community and at the firms where I worked; and judges in whose courts I have won and lost cases. I won’t go into all of those acknowledgements because that only leads to trouble when you inadvertently leave someone out. Also, I promised to keep my remarks to 15 minutes.

But there are some very special people that I want to acknowledge because they stand out. My dad, Felipe Ramon Martinez and my mom, Emilia Manuela Martinez, both of whom taught their children the importance of a strong work ethic, the value of an education, the responsibility to share the blessings God has bestowed upon us with those less fortunate, and so many other lessons that have made me the person I am today.

Unfortunately daddy died three years ago and my mom was too ill to make the trip from Pueblo so they are not able to be here in body, but I know how proud they both are and I know that both continue to hold me up in prayer – that the Lord will guide me in my new role as a guardian of the law. But daddy, I think it is time for you to stop bragging to all your friends in heaven about your Jita who, even though she didn’t become the first doctor in the family, is now a big shot Federal judge!

Last, but certainly not least, I want to recognize my family – my loving and much loved husband Ron and my wonderful children Ronnie, Tiffany, Jennifer, and Kenny. I was truly blessed when God set Ron in my path my first week at CU more than 35 years ago. Ron and I were just kids when we married and we have essentially grown up together. Ron, thank you for always being there for me, for inspiring me when I needed encouragement, for believing in me when I lost faith in myself, for guiding me when I was lost and floundering. Most of all thank you for the sacrifices you have made in your life and your career so that I could achieve my dreams and my ambitions. Without you Ron, I know I would not be where I am today. You are and always have been the love of my life and my anchor. Ronnie, Tiffany, Jennifer, and Kenny – I hope you know how much I love you all and how proud I am of each of you. A mom couldn’t ask for better kids. I hope you know that all I do, I do for you.

I am very much aware that I am here today not simply because of the force of my own ambitions, but in equal measure, because of the faith, hope, and charity of many, many people, who saw in my ambitions something bigger than my fortunes alone. Who saw something good and lasting for their community, for their country, and for its most vital public institutions. I intend in all matters to be true to them, even as I am true to the law. My own history demands it, but more importantly, the times demand it.

And these are, we must admit, difficult times. Our economy languishes. We are engaged in two military struggles in the Middle East with uncertain ends. We have a new president with a new spirit of optimism and bold confidence, and a new Congress with fresh new faces from all walks of American life. And yet a pressing question remains: can our hearts and minds invest these leaders with confidence and faith? Are we patient enough to let our government function in this, our digital age, where things are expected to move at a lightning pace and arrive at a destination that always pleases us, rewards us and benefits us? Can our government succeed when people measure its effectiveness by a yardstick of satisfaction forged from the material world, and not from the world of values, ethics, and service that is supposed to infuse our civic life?

These questions are no less pressing and momentous for our legal system – the third branch of our government – than they are for the executive and legislative branches. Our justice system, too, suffers from low public esteem and a lack of public confidence. It is plagued by false expectations – that it, and the law itself, should somehow function to always give people what they want, rather to mete out what truth and justice demand.

Alongside these false concepts of the law and our lack of confidence in our justice system, I find even more troubling the degradation of the rule of law itself. While our foreign policy seeks to advance this central tenet of free societies as a public value in other nations, the United States of America seems headed in the opposite direction.

Again we see an apathy, a shrugging-off, a broad disinterest by U.S. society in the need to continue the commitment to the three-part process that has advanced and secured our freedoms up to the present: i) reasoned, civil discourse regarding policy choices on economic and social issues; ii) accurate translation of the results from such discourse into laws and regulations and dedication of adequate resources to enforce them; and iii) adherence to those rules by government officials at all levels – most importantly at the highest level.

If we forsake the rule of law for convenience or expediency; if we sacrifice it out of ruthlessness; if we abandon it out of laziness, history will never forgive us. All who have struggled against tyranny, arbitrary rule, despotism, and even simple injustice, will hold us accountable for all time for this unforgiveable sin. It cannot be allowed to happen. The rule of the law is one of the crowning American legacies – as George Washington reminded us, “The administration of justice is the firmest pillar of government.”

As guardians of the law, we have a special responsibility at this difficult moment in our nation’s history to restore the rule of law as a living, breathing, working value in American society even as we work to enshrine it in other societies. Likewise, we must embrace the co-equal challenge of restoring confidence in the judicial branch of our government as a key step toward restoring overall confidence in our entire government.

And so the challenge today for us – for me, for all the judges invested today; all the attorneys admitted to the bar today; all the DAs reporting for their first day of work today in Denver and around the nation; all the law students studying for finals at law schools here in Colorado and around the country – with Washington’s admonition – “the administration of justice is the firmest pillar of government” – in mind, is to commit to begin this process anew. As if this were the first birth of our republic, as if all pressing issues were at stake, as if our survival depended upon our efforts – because plainly, it does.

And with this commitment, let us draw not just upon our training, our scholarship, and our dedication as guardians of the law. Let us draw upon our life experience, our deepest humanity and the understanding of human nature we have cultivated in our lives outside the practice of law.

What we need most now, at this moment, is not more expertise. We have expertise to burn. We are not lacking in legal brilliance, erudition, or talent by any measure. No, if we are to summon the public back into a confident compact with our legal system – with attorneys, with judges and juries, with litigants – it must come from a demonstration that the law is relevant and central to people’s lives, not separate and sequestered from their lives.

And so with this in mind, I return to the story I told at the beginning of my remarks: my life story. As a guardian of the law, I am pledging today to stay in close touch with all that I have been, with all whom I have met, with all that I have seen. I will trust in my training, certainly, and in my professional experience, but alone, they will not be adequate to make me an effective judge, or to do the extra work of helping to restore some measure of public confidence in our courts, in our judicial system, and in the law itself.

To do that requires an extra commitment. So as I pledge that commitment today, I ask all of you to do the same. I ask you to infuse your work in the law with the passion that your lives have forged, with the humanity that has informed your work, and with the decency that has grounded your conduct. Nothing is more important than that we do this, and do it now. Our times demand it. The future of the law, and of American civilization, demands it.

And for those of you not involved in the law directly, I ask you to rededicate yourselves to renewing the spirit of civic discourse and to doing the hard work of advancing our republic in your lives and your work. This is important work – as John Adams reminded us: “there are only two creatures of value on the face of the earth: those who are committed, and those who require the commitment of others.” We must become both kinds of people to ensure the blessings of our republic and the promise of our government.

I stand ready and eager to undertake the tremendous challenges ahead and am confident that, with the support and mentoring that the other members of this court have already provided to me, I will be successful. For myself, I hope it is said that my time on the bench was dedicated to these propositions – that I helped to make our courts better, make the administration of justice better, and make the law live, and live vibrantly, in our little corner of America. I would be satisfied with that legacy – the kind of legacy at the center of the great poem “Success” – long my favorite work, which reads: “To know that even one life has breathed easier because I have lived – this is to have succeeded.”

I strive to attain this kind of success. And I wish it for each of you as well. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for this supreme honor, for being here with me today, and for hearing me out. Let us commit to helping others achieve what this small town girl, with the help of many of you in this audience, has achieved – a very big dream; indeed, the “American Dream.”

Continuing a rich tradition, the fraternity brothers of Phi Kappa Tau, Psi Chapter, held their 50th anniversary reunion in Boulder and Broomfield October 1-4, 2008. This unique group of fraternity brothers from the 1956-60 pledge classes has stayed in close contact over the last 50 years despite members living all over the country. Beginning in the late 60s, they have assembled more than 20 times to watch the Buffs play and enjoy their CU and fraternity memories, mainly in Boulder but also in places like Las Vegas, Seattle, San Diego, Los Angeles and Phoenix. This year’s reunion was the largest ever with nearly 50 people attending.

Phi Tau reunions are now being held bi-annually and always includes a CU game and an “awards dinner” where all members are “roasted” properly. At these events, the brothers return to their cherished college days and tell the same embarrassing stories about each other, which every year are a little more embellished They also share fond memories about their Viking, Gongo and other fraternity parties, “woodsies”, spring formals, and times at the Sink, Tulagi’s and other watering holes, and they tend to revert back to acting like they did 50 years ago. The awards dinner always includes irreverent presentations such as the Fat Man award and other unmentionable awards.

The reunions have been “magical times” for the brothers to share memories and friendships developed during some of the most treasured times of their lives. Over the years, the spouses have come to know each other well and have learned to “put up with” and enjoy the predictable frivolity. Plans for these “forever young” fraternity brothers are being made for the next reunion in 2010.

The brothers from the 1956-1960 pledges have a long tradition of reunions since graduation and have kept in touch over many years in a very unique way. Numerous reunions of this group of brothers have been held beginning in the late 60′s and continuing with the biggest one yet this year, and plans are being made for the next one in 2010. Many of the brothers see each other frequently, despite living all over the country, but this year some of the brothers who had not seen each other for 50 years attended as a result of an intense effort to find “lost” brothers. The “sisters” have also become very close over the years due to the many reunions held mostly in Boulder but also in Las Vegas and elsewhere.

Twenty five brothers and their spouses, a total of almost 50 attended the 50th reunion. Events included two days in Broomfield at the Omni Hotel for golf, spas, shopping and two big dinner parties. Then, everyone moved to St. Julien in Boulder for the grand Awards Dinner on Friday night. The master of ceremonies of this year’s event was Ken (Chip) Arthur (Phys’62), who has taken over this assignment in recent years with great success. This year’s presentation was the best ever with a multi-media extravaganza in which everyone was properly roasted.

The next day the group attended the Texas-CU game. The day started with an “over the top” catered tailgate hosted by Lori and Dave Vandervelde (PE’65,MS’67). After three hours of festivities, we proceeded to the game with half the group in the Vandervelde skybox and the other half in club seats right below. They were hoping for another miracle like last year’s comeback win over Oklahoma, but Texas did not cooperate this year. The group returned to the St. Julien after the game for a final get-together. The next day, with many hugs and goodbyes, they all headed back to their homes on both coasts and many places in between.

The chairman of this year’s event was Ken “Duals” Dulany (Fin’60,MBA’62), assisted by co-chair Chip Arthur along with Mike “Beeper” McClelland (Fin’65), Mike “Reebs” Reber (A&S’62) and Mike “Bags” Glassco (Mgmt’62).

Note: The Psi Chapter of Phi Kappa Tau is currently not active on campus, but they still own their house at 1150 College Ave. and plans are being made for the chapter to return to the Boulder campus soon. They hope to be back by the time of their next reunion in 2010.

William W. Blackwell (Jour’73)

In 2006, the university dedicated a memorial
outside the Wolf Law Building to honor CU alumni killed in the attacks.
It is located on the north side of the building.

We honor the following alums who died:
Nina Patrice Bell (Bus’85)
Chris Ciafardini (Econ’93)
Scott Thomas Coleman (Fin’86)
Brian Thomas Cummins (Fin’86)
Leslie Whittington Falkenberg (MEcon’87, PhD’89)
Chandler “Chad” Keller (Aero’93)
Chris Faugnan (Fin’86)
Allison Horstmann Jones (MBA’97)
Joshua “Rosie” Rosenbaum (Bus’95)
Adam Shelby White (EnvSt’96)

A CU alum reflects on Sept. 11

The firemen from Ladder #3 (next to my house who lost six men on 9/11) were all standing at attention this morning in their full regalia. Tears streamed down one man’s face. I whispered “thanks guys” and thought to myself they should be remembered every day not just this day.

On my walk to the subway, it felt like the air was heavy with sadness, remembrance and possibly fear. I watched as tourists wandered aimlessly around as locals rushed to work, knowing that everyone was thinking the same thing.

I got in the subway and recognized an actor who appeared in Spotless Mind, Little Children, Beautiful Girls and a host of other movies. We were standing next to each other as I read the latest (and best) edition of the Coloradan, the CU alumni magazine, and he stopped me to ask if I was a jewelry designer and to comment on how much he liked my work.

We spoke about jewelry, travelling around the world (he did the same trip as my husband and I) and the new play he is in. As the doors opened at our stop and we parted ways, I smiled to myself and let out a little giggle about how random this city is. And then I was suddenly overwhelmed with a sense of pride to be a New Yorker. I love how wild the city is, the craziness of it all, how many emotions I feel in one day and how many interesting and different people I get to meet everyday here. Wow.

So, today my sadness has turned into feeling proud and thankful for this great city.

Gaffney Peglar (Hum’99) is a jewelry designer and graphic designer in New York City. She gets out to Boulder, Colo., as often as possible to see the Flatirons, her proud older sister and the beautiful Boulder campus.

I’ve never seen a July 4th fireworks display in Folsom Field like that of either 1948 or 1949. I’m not sure of which year it was, but it had to rival the one witnessed by Francis Scott Key in 1814, as he wrote what was to become our national anthem.

The Folsom Field display was erected immediately south of the scoreboard and extended across the football field. It included Roman candles, sparklers, rockets of various sizes, and a “waterfall” made of pyrotechnics. Fortunately as it would turn out, spectators were restricted to the horseshoe end of the stadium, northward to about the south 35-yard line.

Just as the show began, with darkness falling over the stadium, one of those early-evening thunder storms blew in from the south; no rain, but gusty winds. To start the show some of the smaller fireworks had been ignited and they were turned northward by the unexpected winds-right into the displays at the base of the scoreboard.

Pandemonium followed. The pyrotechnic waterfall ignited; skyrockets of various sizes shot into the nearby stands and rattled southward between the seats; Roman candles and sparkers added to the inferno. Gradually it ended.

Smoke filled the bowl; the small pine trees adjacent to the scoreboard were burning. Silence fell over the stadium, and then over the PA system it was announced that nobody had been hurt. Everybody let out a loud and thankful cheer.

Russ Randell BSME’49

Welcome! It seems like just yesterday that I drove my ’41 Chevy up the dirt road from Golden to start my freshman year in the fall of 1954. The furthest thing south in Boulder was the Bureau of Standards and the Denver-Boulder turnpike and the UMC had just opened the year before.

Many of our classmates were returning to CU from the Korean War. Men who had never had the financial means for a college education had the doors opened by the GI bill.

The way we were

There were 7,500 students on campus. Tuition was $72 per semester, everyone took Western Civ 101-102 our freshman year, and we all had to pass a spelling test to get into upper division. Women had hours in the dorms and sorority houses, which sometimes were a good way to get rid of a bad date.

The football and basketball teams were all white until our junior year. Boulder was dry except for 3.2 beer. No calculators — the engineering dorks all carried slide rules. Green beanies. Sexual harassment was only if it was unwanted. All boys had burr haircuts and only girls wore earrings and three were one too many. CU days. No birth control pill. There were no “condoms.” They were called rubbers and us guys always carried one in our wallet but never used it. Eisenhower was president. And we only had 48 stars on our flag. The Brooklyn Dodgers became the los Angeles Dodgers and the CU basketball team went to the final four our freshman year.

Some of the famous names and places of the 50s were: Jonas Salk, Rosa Parks, Autherine Lucy, Senator Joseph McCarthy, Julius and Ethyl Rosenberg, Elvis, Bill Haley and the Comets, Rocky Marciano, Father Pat, Dal Ward, Panmoonjom, Dien Bien Phu, Sputnik, the Sink, the Tule., Timber Tavern, the Twinburger and Tempest Storm and Winston Churchill, not Ward Churchill.
As I remember, we were all programmed in those days to go to college, probably pledge a fraternity or sorority and graduate. Many of the men would join the military for a couple of years, then get married. The women would become desperate housewives. We would have kids and then work the rest of our lives.

CU Love Story

So, how many of you met your spouse here and are still married? How many of you or your spouse went into the service before or after CU? Stand up – Army, Navy. Air Force, Coast Guard, Marines. Anyone make a career of it? Thank you for your service.

How times have changed. Today, CU-Boulder has 30,000 students. Tuition is around $6,000 per year, $21,000 for nonresidents. They come from all 50 states and 94 foreign countries. Of the 29 institutions of higher education in the state, CU-Boulder gives out 25% of the bachelor’s degrees, 24 % of the master’s degrees and 47% of the PhDs. We have over 200,000 alumni. The university has two other campuses, which total to over 50,000 students: UC D and UCCS.

Students today

Most students today were born in the late 1980s.

1. Their lifetime has always included AIDS but they’ve never heard of polio.
2. To them, Jay Leno has always been the Tonight Show host.
3. To them, Chappaquiddik is a prehistoric sea animal.
4. They’ve never heard of a cloth diaper.
5. They have no clue how to use a typewriter.
6. They think Michael Jackson has always been white.
7. They’ve never seen a black and white TV and wouldn’t know what to do without a remote control.
8. The Vietnam War is as ancient as the Civil War.
9. They’ve heard the name “Glen Miller” but they think he was a member of the Grateful Dead… are you feeling any older yet?

And just for a minute, let’s think about the graduating class of 1908, 100 years ago, which had its 50-year reunion when we finished. CU had 650 students. Tuition was $15-20 a year. Teddy Roosevelt was president. There were 45 stars on the flag. The Wright brothers had invented the airplane just five years before. The San Francisco earthquake had just happened. And in 1908, Henry Ford put out the first Model T automobile. Mother’s Day was first observed. The FBI was founded. The Panama Canal opened and Novocaine was invented. Construction began on Macky Auditorium and graduation was held at Chautauqua!

So here’s a pop quiz with the answer:

The Indian chief Niwot put a curse on the early settlers of Boulder which stated, “Once you gaze upon the beauty of the Flatirons, you will never be happy anywhere else and if you visit this area you will always come back,” so welcome back.

John Player called the Coloradan offices on March 18 to let us know how much he enjoyed receiving the Coloradan.

“How wonderful it is to get bulletins from you. I am looking at the picture of the Flatirons right now. The picture alone of the Flatirons is wonderful. I haven’t seen them in so long. The article on the Chinese girl was really interesting- how she came to the United States at age 23. I really enjoy this and I am 89 years old. I’ll be 90 April 11.

I went to China with a friend of mine and saw them building the big dam. I went to East Africa to Kenya and saw the elephants and the giraffes and went out at night and saw the buffaloes. We went to the Galapagos and Greece and that was about it for me. I’ve had a wonderful life with all the things that have happened to me. And I am not ready to go yet. I just wanted to let you know it is such a joy to get the magazine. Thank you.”

John Player, Jr. (Geol’40)
Madison, Miss.