Comments from alumni

Congratulations on the Gold Medal from CASE and also on the splendid spring issue of Dickinson Magazine. It was such a treat to remember some of the wonderful teachers from the 1959-63 era. Gilbert Malcolm is one of my true heroes. I had an experience very similar to Howard Kline ’54. I arrived at Old West sometime in the summer of 1958, signed, sealed and virtually delivered to Georgetown. Coming by at lunchtime, the only person I could find in Old West was a congenial red-haired gentleman who invited me into his office for what became nearly a two-hour “chat.” It was a mid-summer “snow job” which convinced me Dickinson was the perfect place for me. I never regretted that decision. Prof. Wing chaired the history department during those years. According to legend, he memorized The Encyclopedia Britannica through volume H. I had John Pflaum for a Civil War course made memorable by his riveting portrayal of all the parts during his lectures. Thank you for a lovely trip through the yellowing pages of a very pleasant memory - Ted Stellwag ’63

“Watch the pitcher, watch the pitcher, WATCH THE PITCHER!” These were the repetitive words of a true Dickinson baseball fan, and would easily lead you to the spot on the bleachers where Professor Henry E. Smith was sitting. He was oblivious to all around him, while giving the same instructions to all Dickinson players on the field.

Known to us as Colonel Smith, this was a notable faculty member in the physics department. My first contact with him occurred after signing up for a course in mechanical drawing. After all, the plus side was that this was the course that managed to fit into my schedule and add to my physics minor. The downside was that I was the only student in the mini-class of six who had not had mechanical drawing in high school; the other five were all guys. I could barely tell a T-square from a pencil, and to add to the trauma, it was always dark and cold when we finished the classes at 5:30 p.m. on winter nights. Happily, Colonel Smith was always patient, as he would rapidly scrawl information on the board, adding, “See?” after each line. Well, very often we didn't “see,” but he would continue until all was solved. With hard work, a knowledgeable professor and kind classmates, I was able to achieve an “A,” so it was a good experience after all.

One day, nearing the end of the senior year semester, Colonel Smith asked me to come into his office after class. He knew that I was to be married shortly after graduation and determined that it would be important to pass on advice at that time. Out came his familiar pipe for relaxation, and out came words for success in married life; he was now like a grandfather. Although he did not know the family of which I would become a part, Colonel Smith indicated that there would be times of disagreement and firmly advocated, “Be ready to give in on little things, but don’t ever give in on BIG things!” My professor, having given me an important share of his physics knowledge, now wanted to give me a gift for handling the future. Can you imagine another “gift” that he had planned? He wanted to hold a “bridal shower” just within our little group. That could have been a comedy, with five young men and one older professor, but the constraints of time prevented it from happening.

Very soon, as we approached graduation, it was discovered that, although my credits for graduation were very much in order, the requirements for teaching science in New Jersey after marriage were not. The adviser had assured us incorrectly. The only solution was to take a private “crash course” in physics. Sunday was graduation day; Monday meant hopping into the car and driving from Harrisburg to Carlisle early every day for six weeks. It was Professor Smith who volunteered to teach me. He was such a pleasure. This added task took me within one week of a very big wedding. Of course Colonel Smith attended the event.

Only four days after a brief honeymoon, polio struck a sudden and unwelcome blow. This was the last epidemic year, and I became a part of it. It was a year and a half before I had occasion to return to Dickinson, still recovering strength but basically back to normal. Suddenly, I saw a figure in a dark suit, scurrying across campus toward me: It was Colonel Smith. As he came near, there was no initial “hello” but a loud call. “Are you all right? ... Oh, are you all right?” There was a look of anguish on his face as he held my hands. Apparently, he had heard and remembered.

There are many professors who are knowledgeable in the field of physics. Colonel Smith, while being among them, cared for the student more than the subject. His words, his facial expressions, his caring are still very much with me. Such a treasure. He was truly a gentleman ... a gentle man with the heart of a grandfather.- Ellen Fair Durgin ’52

Editor’s Note: Associate Professor of Mathematics Henry E. Smith began teaching at Dickinson in 1942. He died on Aug. 19, 1955, while still employed at the college.

I’m sure plenty of readers noticed the photo misidentifications of two superb Dickinson professors in the last issue (“Movers & Shapers”). Having taken courses from both John Christian Pflaum and Stanley Nodder, I can attest to their lack of similarities—and their quite different teaching techniques.

J.C. Pflaum was legendary for his loud, bombastic and colorful lectures on European history, particularly anything Germanic or linked to his beloved Swabia. In sharp contrast, Nodder’s quietly energetic presentations of Greek and Roman history made him a riveting lecturer. Anyone who keeps you interested in the Peloponnesian War at 8 o’clock on Saturday mornings deserves special commendation.

I also agree with the letter writer who commented on the lack of articles about long-time, retiring professors. George Rhyne was, indeed, a popular and first-rate history teacher. I retain vivid memories of his East Asia history lectures some 35 years later.

In that same vein, it is unfortunate another of the history department stars, who devoted his teaching career to Dickinsonians, has escaped the attention of your magazine writers. Clarke W. Garrett and his wife, Peggy, were student favorites and active participants in campus life for decades. Clarke’s enthusiastic European history discussions and his friendship were highlights of my college years.

There’s no doubt in my mind why Dickinson continues to gain recognition as a first-tier liberal arts college: the teaching skills of our faculty. It’s in the classroom, after all, where the proverbial rubber meets the road. - Barry Rascovar ’68

It’s been more than 50 years since I sat in his classes, but I still remember what Professor Pflaum looked like, so I know the captions on these two pictures are reversed!

But I truly enjoyed reading about him—and Dr. Bell and Dr. Bowden, all three of whom stretched my mind well beyond my chemistry major and made an enormous difference in my life.

When I hear people say (especially here in the South) that women in the Fifties were not encouraged to be anything more than teachers, nurses or secretaries, I have to think of men like Professor Gleim and Dr. Vieullumier, who never so much as hinted that I was out of place in their chemistry classes.

What I got from all these great teachers was a confidence that I could go out into the world and do whatever was asked of me. This was worth far more than the historical data and literary background I may have absorbed—although these have been valuable as well.

I chose Dickinson as a woefully uninformed 16-year-old; I had no idea what a liberal-arts education was or what I’d get out of it. It turned out to have been the perfect choice. - Joan Gettig Nagle ’53

Prof. John C. Pflaum was the most unforgettable class act that I ever met in all of my educational experience. I spent the first part of my college years at Brandeis University, like Dickinson a great educational institution. At Brandeis there were some world-famous thinkers and scholars, but NOBODY there had the elegant combination of knowledge of subject, dynamism, dedication and panache as J. C. Pflaum. We simply loved the man. He was that fantastic. - Michael B. Coleman ’64

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