I wanted to share a few thoughts and memories about Bob. I first met Bob when he was a member of the faculty, then worked with him in his role as an associate dean. About 13 years ago he became the Dean of Campus Life and I served as his Assistant.
One of the first years I worked for him, Bob had me put up a sign on our door: “Laissez les bons temps rouler!” – let the good times roll – as a kick-off to the new year. He was teaching the Greeks and Lysistrata in World Views and would wear a Socrates mask (complete with flowing white beard) to class, and had his students do something called “Parthenon Twister” at the final class. Good times weren’t limited to the classroom, either. He loved props and would start every fall Directors’ meeting with a ceremonial sword and Viking helmet, and bring a talking pig that said “more money, more money!” to our budget meetings. He’d wander around the UC with his megaphone making announcements, “Now hear this, now hear this!”
Bob regularly met with students to help them with their problems, proposals, or to give academic or career advice; he had lunches or coffees with faculty to educate them about the Residential Commons; pored over the budget to see where we could cut just a little bit more. But the endless staff and committee meetings (as reflected on the ubiquitous orange cards sticking out of Bob’s pocket – his low-tech version of a Blackberry), the hours I spent xeroxing articles for his classes, haggles over budgets and the various proposals don’t fully reflect our office or what Bob brought to it.
While Bob wasn’t always the easiest guy to work for (I don’t think he ever did actually create a document on his computer – once Robert Minato was working on Bob’s computer and said “oh, I think I’ve erased all his documents!” and I told him “Bob didn’t have any documents”), what I’ll remember most about the years working for Bob is the humor he brought to the office and the generosity and care he showed to his students – many of whom considered him their “lifetime advisor.” Most of us are familiar with his quick wit -- I’m sure people often wondered what was so funny when they heard us laughing in the office. We’d often have tears running down our faces over some funny story. Our office dealt with some very difficult issues over the years, and sometimes humor is what helped us keep it together.
But what some people might not know is Bob’s thoughtfulness to friends and colleagues. He assisted an employee whose family was in dire circumstances, helped with tuition for a bright student from abroad -- I’ve personally been the recipient of his thoughtful generosity when he bought two tickets to bring my daughter and grandson over for a visit from Macedonia for the summer. He crafted literally hundreds of letters of recommendation to help students continue their education, get a scholarship or land a job. His involvement with students went beyond graduation – he participated in their weddings, they brought their spouses and children by to meet him, he followed their careers and celebrated their accomplishments. I’m sure there are many here who owe their career – and life trajectory - to Bob’s enthusiastic advocacy. He changed lives.
When I think of my years working with Bob, this is what I’ll remember...
* likely places to find the Dean when he’d “gone missing” (Bistro, Travel Center, Bookstore)
* how the Dean enjoyed listening to music ranging from Eleftheria and Diana Krall to gypsy jazz and classic rock and would often call me into his office to listen to a particular passage (“come here, you’ve got to hear this!”)
* the Dean’s passion for Bistro coffee and scones while discussing politics with a student, grading papers, or catching up on some reading
* finding gifts of chocolates on my desk from his most recent travels abroad
Bob was one of a kind – I’m going to miss him.
Colleen Spedale – Assistant to the Dean of Campus Life
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Of Kafka and Coffee – Lessons from Hawkinson
Professor Hawkinson was a major force in my life. He was what every college student dreams of in a college advisor (advocate for exploration, coach for building an academic experience that broadens your mind and opens opportunity, confidant who helps you through the tough times, and caring uncle who keeps you honest and gives you the kick in the pants you need). He was my senior thesis advisor, one of the greatest and most inspiring teachers I have ever had, my internship advisor, the Bistro advisor, and after graduation a colleague in work as a trustee on the Commons, the Solomon Amendment, gender neutral housing, Greek occupancy, the first-year experience, and many other student life changes. And above all he was an incredible friend.
I keep thinking my connection with Hawkinson should be about introducing me to de Tocqueville or my deep love of the civility, intellect and political acumen of The Federalist Papers or the fact that 25 years after reading and discussing the book with him, I find myself in meetings with Federal Agency clients quoting Exit, Voice and Loyalty. Or our connection should be about his support of the student movement for divestment from South Africa or our mutual passion for student-led innovation and an engaging campus life. Or the hundreds of hours we spent over the last 27 years arguing politics . . . But no, it really is all about food.
Several memories that have flooded through my mind since Sunday the 22nd -
The Gatke Office Talks
In the basement of Gatke Hall, central casting has constructed the quintessential set for the beloved and absent-minded professor. Pine shelves floor to ceiling line three of the four walls groaning and creaking under the weight of books, books and more books. A narrow path snakes its way through stacks of books on the floor. To sit you must carefully remove a pile of books from the guest chair, carefully and conspicuously placing the student’s paper you have found in clear view so it might be noticed and graded (more on this later). And in the middle of it all, at a monolith of books (beneath which a desk supposedly exists) was bow tie-bedecked Professor Hawkinson.
Time stopped in the Gatke Office. As Hawkinson focused on your needs, inspired greater effort, gave a good piece of advice or handed you a book that you must read. But our conversations always worked their way to food. Now, truth be told, the Sue Leason buttered popcorn gauntlet could have had something to do with the subject of our talks. But never fail, we would start discussing Rousseau and find ourselves in a comparative analysis of a real Chicago hot dog and the hollow facsimile available on the West Coast. Deconstructing Kafka’s The Trial turned to reminiscing about knish. Or we would find a connection between Federalist Ten and the appropriate perfection of a Vanilla Malt served with breakfast at the Off-Center Café. And it was in the basement of Gatke where tales of the late-night epic Schezuan cooking feats of Hawkinson, the University of Chicago graduate student, came to be known, and inspired many late-night cooking fests among politics students of our era.
The Bistro Plotting, Planning and Tasting
“There is no place to go late at night and good coffee is impossible to find.”
That was the complaint of two Sophomore Poli Sci majors who decided to go see President Hudson. To our shock, Hudson says, “come back in a week with a business plan.” Do we go to the Econ Department for help? No. Do we even think to cross Winter Street to the Graduate School of Management? No. We make a beeline to Gatke and the basement office. Thus begins a year of discussions ranging from, “I used to teach at UC Santa Cruz – they have student-run coffee shops, let me connect you so you can go do research,” to “you know, you should have Quiche and Soup so people can recharge late at night.” Of course, as our official faculty advisor (just as he has been for dozens of student-led initiatives), he served as an advocate, as an offensive lineman when needed, and always as a coach. And back to the food theme, he also provided many a critical thumbs up and thumbs down as we tested recipes.
Tag Team for the American Political Thought Orals: or, what do Red Hook and onion rolls have to do with Selznick?
One of the best classes I ever took at Willamette was Hawkinson’s senior seminar on American Political Thought. Our small group of about 10 students would gather in the Eaton seminar room and debate that week’s reading (ranging from the correspondence of the framers to the use of television to shape the presidency)
with Hawkinson pushing us to express a strong point of view and for others to pose objections and alternatives. What could be more fun? But there remained the fact of the dreaded Oral. 60 minutes of being grilled by Hawkinson on everything and anything covered in the class. As a joke, John Donovan and I suggested to Hawkinson that the two of us should be able to do the Oral as a tag team and that it should be conducted over beers and sandwiches at Brice’s (Hawkinson’s favorite deli in the 80s). Not only did he agree, but he upped the ante: “Ok, but it will be two hours, I’ll come up with tougher questions and if you do well, I’ll buy the beers.” We had a blast. It was a tough exam (but the ability to high-five for the tag team help get us though and indeed Hawkinson picked up the tab.
The Chinese Dinner Ransom Payment
On graduation day, John and I compared notes and realized that neither of us had received our Senior Thesis papers back from Hawkinson. We approached him (resplendent in his University of Chicago regalia — including the very cool velvet beret) and asked about our papers. “Oh, they are safe and sound and you both did well. But I want to give some more comments as this will be the last feedback I give you.” As we packed up for post-Willamette life, we wondered could they be under the wrong pile of books in Gatke? A year passed. We saw Hawkinson at a young alumni gathering. Still safe and sound. Five years passed. “I am saving them as a gift for your 10th reunion.” The 10th reunion arrived and Hawkinson offered a deal: “I am saving your papers for your 20th, but I will cook you a gourmet Chinese Dinner to commemorate their ten-year anniversary.“ And what a meal it was.
Hawkinson came to Portland. Haggled at the Asian markets, assigned chopping and peeling duties to about 10 class of ‘88 alums gathered for the occasion, and made what seemed like a 12-course feast that will always be remembered as one of the best meals of my life.
The Retirement Dinner — otherwise known as the Great Foie Gras Uprising
After Hawkinson’s Retirement, a group of us invited him to Portland, where we would cook a dinner in his honor. Prior to dinner on a warm summer evening, we gathered on the front porch for cocktails and, of course, to talk politics. Suddenly we heard the sound of a crowd with chants, roars and yells. It was coming from Hawthorne Blvd. and Jon Radmacher went to investigate. “It’s a giant protest.” Well of course we had to go and see or participate. We rounded the corner to encounter a crowd of 50 – 100 very loud protesters. What were they protesting? Genocide? Clear cuts in the National Forest? The war in Iraq? No, they were protesting Foie Gras. And for some reason (the poorly written signs, the screaming of violent obscenities at the children sitting in the restaurant with their families or the sense that this was civil disobedience run amok), we committed an incredibly politically incorrect act and entered the restaurant to buy a drink in protest of the protest. We proceeded to have a great discussion on the nature of protest and political voice as well as the power and politics of food.
Food for Thought
Hawkinson fed our minds, fed our hunger for community engagement, fed our expectations of a more civil society and often fed us good food made better with great friendship. He embodied non nobis solum nati sumus – not unto ourselves alone are we born. Every year since I graduated, he has told me about and sought support from the community for amazing students he was helping to get a job (I have been fortunate to hire some of them), students he was helping find a computer, students he was helping go on a summer research experience by raising travel money, students he was helping get an internship and of course students on campus with great ideas he was helping get the support to become a reality. His priority was finding the talent and ability for contribution and community building in each of us and doing everything in his power to nurture and grow this potential. He is and will always be greatly missed. He is and will always be part of the fabric of Willamette. His Legacy will live on in our commitment to support students and to ensure their education in and out of the classroom sends them into the world with the ability and the conviction to have lives of contribution, success and meaning. Bob – Thank you for changing, improving and enriching so many of our lives and our community. There will always be a place for you at our figurative table and in our hearts.
Eric Friedenwald-Fishman Class of ‘88
June 5, 2011
Professor Hawkinson was a major force in my life. He was what every college student dreams of in a college advisor (advocate for exploration, coach for building an academic experience that broadens your mind and opens opportunity, confidant who helps you through the tough times, and caring uncle who keeps you honest and gives you the kick in the pants you need). He was my senior thesis advisor, one of the greatest and most inspiring teachers I have ever had, my internship advisor, the Bistro advisor, and after graduation a colleague in work as a trustee on the Commons, the Solomon Amendment, gender neutral housing, Greek occupancy, the first-year experience, and many other student life changes. And above all he was an incredible friend.
I keep thinking my connection with Hawkinson should be about introducing me to de Tocqueville or my deep love of the civility, intellect and political acumen of The Federalist Papers or the fact that 25 years after reading and discussing the book with him, I find myself in meetings with Federal Agency clients quoting Exit, Voice and Loyalty. Or our connection should be about his support of the student movement for divestment from South Africa or our mutual passion for student-led innovation and an engaging campus life. Or the hundreds of hours we spent over the last 27 years arguing politics . . . But no, it really is all about food.
Several memories that have flooded through my mind since Sunday the 22nd -
The Gatke Office Talks
In the basement of Gatke Hall, central casting has constructed the quintessential set for the beloved and absent-minded professor. Pine shelves floor to ceiling line three of the four walls groaning and creaking under the weight of books, books and more books. A narrow path snakes its way through stacks of books on the floor. To sit you must carefully remove a pile of books from the guest chair, carefully and conspicuously placing the student’s paper you have found in clear view so it might be noticed and graded (more on this later). And in the middle of it all, at a monolith of books (beneath which a desk supposedly exists) was bow tie-bedecked Professor Hawkinson.
Time stopped in the Gatke Office. As Hawkinson focused on your needs, inspired greater effort, gave a good piece of advice or handed you a book that you must read. But our conversations always worked their way to food. Now, truth be told, the Sue Leason buttered popcorn gauntlet could have had something to do with the subject of our talks. But never fail, we would start discussing Rousseau and find ourselves in a comparative analysis of a real Chicago hot dog and the hollow facsimile available on the West Coast. Deconstructing Kafka’s The Trial turned to reminiscing about knish. Or we would find a connection between Federalist Ten and the appropriate perfection of a Vanilla Malt served with breakfast at the Off-Center Café. And it was in the basement of Gatke where tales of the late-night epic Schezuan cooking feats of Hawkinson, the University of Chicago graduate student, came to be known, and inspired many late-night cooking fests among politics students of our era.
The Bistro Plotting, Planning and Tasting
“There is no place to go late at night and good coffee is impossible to find.”
That was the complaint of two Sophomore Poli Sci majors who decided to go see President Hudson. To our shock, Hudson says, “come back in a week with a business plan.” Do we go to the Econ Department for help? No. Do we even think to cross Winter Street to the Graduate School of Management? No. We make a beeline to Gatke and the basement office. Thus begins a year of discussions ranging from, “I used to teach at UC Santa Cruz – they have student-run coffee shops, let me connect you so you can go do research,” to “you know, you should have Quiche and Soup so people can recharge late at night.” Of course, as our official faculty advisor (just as he has been for dozens of student-led initiatives), he served as an advocate, as an offensive lineman when needed, and always as a coach. And back to the food theme, he also provided many a critical thumbs up and thumbs down as we tested recipes.
Tag Team for the American Political Thought Orals: or, what do Red Hook and onion rolls have to do with Selznick?
One of the best classes I ever took at Willamette was Hawkinson’s senior seminar on American Political Thought. Our small group of about 10 students would gather in the Eaton seminar room and debate that week’s reading (ranging from the correspondence of the framers to the use of television to shape the presidency)
with Hawkinson pushing us to express a strong point of view and for others to pose objections and alternatives. What could be more fun? But there remained the fact of the dreaded Oral. 60 minutes of being grilled by Hawkinson on everything and anything covered in the class. As a joke, John Donovan and I suggested to Hawkinson that the two of us should be able to do the Oral as a tag team and that it should be conducted over beers and sandwiches at Brice’s (Hawkinson’s favorite deli in the 80s). Not only did he agree, but he upped the ante: “Ok, but it will be two hours, I’ll come up with tougher questions and if you do well, I’ll buy the beers.” We had a blast. It was a tough exam (but the ability to high-five for the tag team help get us though and indeed Hawkinson picked up the tab.
The Chinese Dinner Ransom Payment
On graduation day, John and I compared notes and realized that neither of us had received our Senior Thesis papers back from Hawkinson. We approached him (resplendent in his University of Chicago regalia — including the very cool velvet beret) and asked about our papers. “Oh, they are safe and sound and you both did well. But I want to give some more comments as this will be the last feedback I give you.” As we packed up for post-Willamette life, we wondered could they be under the wrong pile of books in Gatke? A year passed. We saw Hawkinson at a young alumni gathering. Still safe and sound. Five years passed. “I am saving them as a gift for your 10th reunion.” The 10th reunion arrived and Hawkinson offered a deal: “I am saving your papers for your 20th, but I will cook you a gourmet Chinese Dinner to commemorate their ten-year anniversary.“ And what a meal it was.
Hawkinson came to Portland. Haggled at the Asian markets, assigned chopping and peeling duties to about 10 class of ‘88 alums gathered for the occasion, and made what seemed like a 12-course feast that will always be remembered as one of the best meals of my life.
The Retirement Dinner — otherwise known as the Great Foie Gras Uprising
After Hawkinson’s Retirement, a group of us invited him to Portland, where we would cook a dinner in his honor. Prior to dinner on a warm summer evening, we gathered on the front porch for cocktails and, of course, to talk politics. Suddenly we heard the sound of a crowd with chants, roars and yells. It was coming from Hawthorne Blvd. and Jon Radmacher went to investigate. “It’s a giant protest.” Well of course we had to go and see or participate. We rounded the corner to encounter a crowd of 50 – 100 very loud protesters. What were they protesting? Genocide? Clear cuts in the National Forest? The war in Iraq? No, they were protesting Foie Gras. And for some reason (the poorly written signs, the screaming of violent obscenities at the children sitting in the restaurant with their families or the sense that this was civil disobedience run amok), we committed an incredibly politically incorrect act and entered the restaurant to buy a drink in protest of the protest. We proceeded to have a great discussion on the nature of protest and political voice as well as the power and politics of food.
Food for Thought
Hawkinson fed our minds, fed our hunger for community engagement, fed our expectations of a more civil society and often fed us good food made better with great friendship. He embodied non nobis solum nati sumus – not unto ourselves alone are we born. Every year since I graduated, he has told me about and sought support from the community for amazing students he was helping to get a job (I have been fortunate to hire some of them), students he was helping find a computer, students he was helping go on a summer research experience by raising travel money, students he was helping get an internship and of course students on campus with great ideas he was helping get the support to become a reality. His priority was finding the talent and ability for contribution and community building in each of us and doing everything in his power to nurture and grow this potential. He is and will always be greatly missed. He is and will always be part of the fabric of Willamette. His Legacy will live on in our commitment to support students and to ensure their education in and out of the classroom sends them into the world with the ability and the conviction to have lives of contribution, success and meaning. Bob – Thank you for changing, improving and enriching so many of our lives and our community. There will always be a place for you at our figurative table and in our hearts.
Eric Friedenwald-Fishman Class of ‘88
June 5, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Remembering Bob
I am typing this e-mail looking at the black chair next to my desk and Bob's pictures on the wall.
It was very sad and I came to realize that Bob was a very big part of my life. He made me very comfortable asking any of my questions and sharing my thoughts and opinions. I always admired the way he communicated with people. We enjoyed talking about cultural differences, trips and foods-restaurants. I miss him a lot and I still cannot believe he won't walk into Travel Center with a cup of coffee and cookies in his hands.
Mika Yamanaka
Travel Specialist - WU Travel Center
It was very sad and I came to realize that Bob was a very big part of my life. He made me very comfortable asking any of my questions and sharing my thoughts and opinions. I always admired the way he communicated with people. We enjoyed talking about cultural differences, trips and foods-restaurants. I miss him a lot and I still cannot believe he won't walk into Travel Center with a cup of coffee and cookies in his hands.
Mika Yamanaka
Travel Specialist - WU Travel Center
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Graduation 2007
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| Carolyn Burns, CM of Kaneko, Class of 2007 |
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| Maggie Shaneyfelt, First president of Kaneko, Class of 2007 |
Contributed by Carolyn Burns
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Bob and I shared our first class together in the Fall of 1982. He was the new professor in the Political Science and I was a befuddled freshman. I think most people recall those first days in college as intimidating, but Bob's warm personality and legendary sense of humor was comforting. Over the years he became my advisor and mentor. He challenged me and made me laugh. He was no ivory tower professor. Right now I can hear him in my mind lecturing about "eyewin triangles" in the basement of Gatke Hall and bragging about the '85 Bears.
After graduation I'd often see him at the grocery store or grabbing coffee. He always had time for me to chat. During his administrative tenure he often told me about how proud he was of the Willamette students and the positive things they were doing for the community.
At our 20th class reunion I had the opportunity to introduce my 5 year daughter to him. He couldn't have been more gracious. His recent passing sparked a conversation with her about teachers and what a huge impact they have on our lives.
I've always loved the Willamette motto - "not unto ourselves alone are we born." In my mind, Bob and his legacy embodies the motto.
Lindsay Partridge '86 JD '89
After graduation I'd often see him at the grocery store or grabbing coffee. He always had time for me to chat. During his administrative tenure he often told me about how proud he was of the Willamette students and the positive things they were doing for the community.
At our 20th class reunion I had the opportunity to introduce my 5 year daughter to him. He couldn't have been more gracious. His recent passing sparked a conversation with her about teachers and what a huge impact they have on our lives.
I've always loved the Willamette motto - "not unto ourselves alone are we born." In my mind, Bob and his legacy embodies the motto.
Lindsay Partridge '86 JD '89
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
What Bob means to me........
He had a sense of humor like no other person. He could cheer me up without me realizing it's what I needed. He inspired me to achieve greatness, to believe in who I am as a person and what I had to offer others.
He's one of the smartest men I know.
He always had the answer.
He was always there to make sure my class selections worked for me.
He was a man who you could get mad at and then forgive and love the minute you saw his face.He would defend me when required and also let me know if I was out of line.
He was not afraid to express his emotions or feelings.
Sometimes he would get quiet and I knew something was going on with him. We would talk and work through it together. He trusted me. What a gift.I enjoyed our little competitiveness, and we laughed for long periods of time - who could out do whom. Oh there were times when we had plans and he did not show up - but that was Bob.
Stepping on my dress when he walked me down the aisle at our wedding.
Re-packing Bob at the last minute for his trip to Prague, taking out his favorite blue shirt.
His travel experiences turned into many stories.I will never forget our many dinners, movies, brunches during the holidays, idea of buying a beach house and his visits to our home.
There was never a day that went by where I didn't want to see Bob.
He believed in me.He never gave up on me and what he felt I could accomplish. He saw the best in me and reminded me often. He was always there for me when I needed a hug or reassurance.
He was a mentor, like a second father to me and most of all one of my dearest friends.
I will miss him more than I even know at this moment.
I love him and will always. I hope he hears me now.....
Kindra Jordan
WU Travel Manager
Nearly every morning, I would see Bob walk out to his car, usually dry cleaning and briefcase in hand. Sometimes, I would call out from across the way, "Aren't you retired yet?!" Bob would laugh and say, "eh, I'm working at it" - or "I'm getting there" - or "who has time for retirement?!"
I've known Bob for nearly 10 years, and even his apartment manager couldn't hide from his love of academia and personal quest to ensure the world was highly educated. While those talks were limited to minutes at a time, Bob always made sure that I was following whatever path I wanted to be on, and that it was perfectly fine to fence sit and enjoy my station in life; as long as I followed whatever it was I wanted to "be when I grew up". (However, graduate school was mandatory) Conversely, I would ask Bob what he wanted to be when he grew up, he would tell me he hadn't figured that out yet. I think we both settled on being career students for life. There was rarely a place I saw him not interacting in some form of learning or teaching, whether that be at Willamette, our community, or the local coffee shop.
Semi-retired or not, Bob's true passion was his students. Hearing these amazing stories from his colleagues and students reaffirms why Bob never really left Willamette. His students were his inspiration. While you may have sought Bob's insight, advice and encouragement at some point, or like me wanting a continuous IV of random information about the world from a true intellectual; Bob needed us just as much. Because of Bob, the formal and the countless numbers of informal students gained a better grasp on the world, however his students MADE his world complete.
Bob will be missed greatly by our community.
Melodie Atkinson
WOU Alumni 2009
Swing dancing
I met Bob Hawkinson in an unusual manner.
While as a student at Willamette, I took up swing dancing classes in Salem. Through this class, I became acquainted with two men who would become my first dance partners. I also laughed at them when they entertained the idea that they might be professors at WU.
When I ran their names by some fellow WU students, I was, quickly and shockingly, informed that I may have insulted DEAN Bob Hawkinson and PROFESSOR Jerry Gray of Economics. We all had a very good laugh!
I had a very wonderful time dancing with Bob! I admired how brave and determined he was to learn to swing dance. He was always a good sport. Always a good time.
Thank you for the dances, Bob. I'll dance one number for you.
Mayland Chan Heym, Class of 2000
Monday, May 30, 2011
Remembering an educator, a mentor, a friend
Reposted with permission, from the Statesman Journal
This Memorial Day many members of Willamette University's extended family will remember Robert "Bob" Hawkinson, who arrived on campus as a politics professor in 1982 and served as dean of campus life for a decade (1998-2009).
Bob passed away last Sunday, May 22, while reading the newspaper at a Starbucks near his home. I was not surprised to learn that Bob was popular among the coffee shop's employees. One was a student and one of his mentees, while many others loved his good humor and sage advice. Bob died doing what he loved best: enjoying coffee, engaging in politics and nurturing the young people who surrounded him.
Many people knew Bob longer than I — I met him during my job interview in 2003 and worked for him for three years — though I like to think that we had a special connection. From a small starting point, that his mother and I shared Kansas as a home state, Bob learned my passions and goals and provided opportunities that fostered both.
We shared an interest in the history of higher education, which I left Willamette to pursue a doctorate in, and several of the classic books in my library were originally Bob's. He gave me nine of his trademark bow ties as a parting gift. In an intentional (though unknown to Bob) homage to him, I wore one of those ties to my dissertation defense and another to my graduation the week before he died.
What made Bob so special is that the connection I felt with him was shared by hundreds of others. Since his passing, many have written about their relationship with Bob on [this] blog.
He served many roles for many people: a dedicated teacher, a committed colleague, a supportive supervisor, an excellent career counselor and a delightful travel companion. He brought his marvelous sense of humor to each of these roles.
Although Bob had transitioned into a less formal position at Willamette in the last two years, he continued to regularly and meaningfully touch the lives of faculty, staff and, especially, students. He rippled pleasantly across people's lives like the Mill Stream that runs through campus.
I last spoke to Bob in April when I called to ask him to be a reference. He was more than happy to, but he quickly turned the conversation to my graduate school experiences and the goals for my academic career. We also laughed at how his scholarly life had come full circle.
Reminiscent of his graduate student days, he was primarily wearing jeans and working out of a windowless office. He told me to come visit him this summer to pick up some more bow ties; he was wearing them less and less.
Bob's life circle was far closer to closing than either of us knew during that conversation. I'll forever be sad that I couldn't visit him this summer and pick up some more bow ties. I'll forever be grateful that I — and many others — learned from Bob how to make meaningful connections within our communities.
We all should strive to lead a life as connected as his. If we do, it will be a strong indication that we, like Bob, left the world a better place.
Michael Hevel received his Ph.D. from the University of Iowa this month and can be reached at michael.hevel (at) gmail.com.
Hawkinson on Graduation Day 1988
Creative Director/President
Metropolitan Group
Dinner for Hawkinson: Portland 5/29/11
Pictured: Wendy Willis ‘88, Eric Friedenwald-Fishman ‘88, Mika Lim ‘11, Chris Duncan Didway ‘89, Jon Radmacher ‘88, Larry Didway ‘88, Mike Tewfick ‘89, Todd Jones ‘86, John Rehm ‘89, John Donovan ‘88, Willi Gilliland ‘88, Erin Bloom ‘11, Slater Smith ‘12, Sian Williams (married to Donovan)
Some of our kids: Violet Radmacher-Willis, Grace Duncan Didway, Grant Duncan Didway, Maximilian Friedenwald-Fishman, Eryn Donovan Williams, Sophie Friedenwald-Fishman, Ruby Radmacher-Willis and Evan Donovan Williams.
Not Pictured: Rebecca Friedenwald-Fishman (taking the photo) and Bill Bush ’88 who had to leave before we got organized.
(5/29/11)
Eric Friedenwald-Fishman ‘88
Sunday, May 29, 2011
I had the privilege of knowing Bob as a professor, neighbor and colleague.
My freshman year I had intro to politics/American politics from him and it was an outstanding introduction to collegiate life. Several episodes I recall with great clarity stand out in my mind. The class was at 7:50 and one day it snowed – about 2 inches. The class was about ½ full - - - Bob looked around when he walked in and said, “if any of your colleagues choose to run for office, they’ll never get votes in Chicago if they are staying home on a day like this. Remind me not to vote for them - - let’s take attendance today.” At one point we read Why We Lost the ERA. During one of the discussions, someone in the class asked Bob if he was a feminist…..he said, “of course - - and everyone in this room should be too.” Finally, I recall when Willamette was looking for a new professor and Richard Ellis interviewed and lectured to our class as part of his visit. After he left Bob asked the class to provide some feedback – he said, this is your chance to “give this guy a life or send him off somewhere else – we’re actually giving the students some power here.” I recall this with quite fondness, because, in fact we did feel empowered - - and liked Prof Ellis.
I had the chance to travel with Bob for admission work, we lived next door to him for a spell at one point and always liked watching basketball or other sporting events with him and Jerry Gray. He was a great gift to Willamette and I’m sorry we’ve lost him.
Chris Simmons, 93
I had the privilege of working on the development of the Kaneko Commons program with Bob the year before Kaneko opened and then to work as one of the original CMs during the Common's opening year. What impresses me the most about Bob is not only his kindness, but his deep commitment towards the students and the University. Whenever I was with Bob, I felt like he truly cared about me and was interested in our ideas and opinions as students. We knew that in Bob we were heard and supported. I spent many hours in meetings with Bob or sitting in his office or at the Commons events and council meetings. I developed a great love and respect for him and all that he has done. He was a very special man and I’m so grateful for the opportunity to have known him.
We were so honored when Bob attended our wedding 3 years ago, driving over an hour to get there (after getting lost on the way). The last time I saw Bob was almost 2 years ago after he convinced me to come back to Willamette and for a panel discussion on Kaneko’s history. I was busy and stressed with medical school and studying for the boards at the time, but agreed to come, out of respect and love for Bob more than anything. He treated me and some other students to dinner and we had a chance to catch up. I’m sure glad I came. His legacy will live on in all of us; the people and lives he has touched through his love and service.
With Much Love,
Michelle Monnie
Class of 2007
We were so honored when Bob attended our wedding 3 years ago, driving over an hour to get there (after getting lost on the way). The last time I saw Bob was almost 2 years ago after he convinced me to come back to Willamette and for a panel discussion on Kaneko’s history. I was busy and stressed with medical school and studying for the boards at the time, but agreed to come, out of respect and love for Bob more than anything. He treated me and some other students to dinner and we had a chance to catch up. I’m sure glad I came. His legacy will live on in all of us; the people and lives he has touched through his love and service.
With Much Love,
Michelle Monnie
Class of 2007
Saturday, May 28, 2011
My interactions with Bob were few, but they were memorable, and they fit in well with the characterization of him I have seen over the last few days as a unique and extraordinary individual who will greatly be missed. While working on Willamette's Collegian newspaper, I met with Bob on a number of occasions. So many times I would come in with a set of questions prepared to ask him, but often he would convince me to chuck my interview plan altogether. This was the power of his ability to delight, surprise, and go far above and beyond what was expected or hoped for. Bob always made me feel invited, welcome, and part of a process that was greater than just an interaction between an interviewer and a subject. If he wasn't the best source for a story, he would always point out three or four other people to go and talk to. One never left his office without at least a couple of new ideas for stories that the staff or I hadn't yet thought of. Bob never needed to be solicited for ideas--they always flowed freely and naturally from our conversations.
Sometimes the Collegian would solicit Bob for interviews, but often he would seek us out, a rare step for a busy administrator to take, but one which clearly was not out of character for him. For example, each year, without fail, he attended the Collegian staff introductory meetings, often held in a sweltering third-floor office in the University Center in the middle of the innumerable activities Campus Life coordinated before Opening Days. Not only did he attend, but he always spoke to the staff about the Collegian's history, answered questions, and never was short of story ideas for us.
Bob was especially excited for the Collegian to become an integral part of the process of disseminating knowledge about Kaneko Commons, where I was privileged to be among the first year of students to reside. I remember being greeted by Bob out front of the not-quite-finished building on moving day in the fall of 2006. On a 90-degree afternoon, he stood outside in the parking lot for hours, meeting with every student who arrived that day. Later that fall, as we struggled to dig ourselves out of a financial trough, Bob offered gracious and unprecedented financial support for a much-needed upgrade of Collegian office hardware and software. As I transitioned to new management duties on the paper that year, I saw less and less of Bob in person, but I know he remained a constant supporter of the paper, because his name kept popping up in the weekly copies!
I saw Bob only twice after graduation, but they were classic encounters. At one point, I was working at Powell's Books in Portland when he came in. I was surprised and delighted at Bob's recollection of me, his warmth, and his spirit, none of which had diminished despite the time that had gone by since our paths last crossed. In November of 2008, while waiting to meet Ken Nolley at the Bistro, who do I see cracking good-natured jokes about how some alumni just keep hanging around? The Hawk, of course. He'd be glad to know that I finally moved on to pursue my dreams, but he'll have to wait for that story for awhile, unfortunately.
I regret not knowing Bob as well as did as many of the other contributors to this blog, and that I will be unable to attend either of the services planned in his honor. So I feel this is the least I can do to remember a compassionate man who frequently challenged and brought out the best in those with whom he interacted. As any of us who have dealt with or know anything about mass media understand, the interaction between a newspaper and its subjects can sometimes be difficult, even one of gamesmanship. Never with Bob. No matter the context, he was genuine, compassionate, and he truly cared about the community he worked in--every part of that community. He will be greatly missed.
Chris Foss,
PhD Candidate, University of Colorado at Boulder
Willamette Class of 2007
Sometimes the Collegian would solicit Bob for interviews, but often he would seek us out, a rare step for a busy administrator to take, but one which clearly was not out of character for him. For example, each year, without fail, he attended the Collegian staff introductory meetings, often held in a sweltering third-floor office in the University Center in the middle of the innumerable activities Campus Life coordinated before Opening Days. Not only did he attend, but he always spoke to the staff about the Collegian's history, answered questions, and never was short of story ideas for us.
Bob was especially excited for the Collegian to become an integral part of the process of disseminating knowledge about Kaneko Commons, where I was privileged to be among the first year of students to reside. I remember being greeted by Bob out front of the not-quite-finished building on moving day in the fall of 2006. On a 90-degree afternoon, he stood outside in the parking lot for hours, meeting with every student who arrived that day. Later that fall, as we struggled to dig ourselves out of a financial trough, Bob offered gracious and unprecedented financial support for a much-needed upgrade of Collegian office hardware and software. As I transitioned to new management duties on the paper that year, I saw less and less of Bob in person, but I know he remained a constant supporter of the paper, because his name kept popping up in the weekly copies!
I saw Bob only twice after graduation, but they were classic encounters. At one point, I was working at Powell's Books in Portland when he came in. I was surprised and delighted at Bob's recollection of me, his warmth, and his spirit, none of which had diminished despite the time that had gone by since our paths last crossed. In November of 2008, while waiting to meet Ken Nolley at the Bistro, who do I see cracking good-natured jokes about how some alumni just keep hanging around? The Hawk, of course. He'd be glad to know that I finally moved on to pursue my dreams, but he'll have to wait for that story for awhile, unfortunately.
I regret not knowing Bob as well as did as many of the other contributors to this blog, and that I will be unable to attend either of the services planned in his honor. So I feel this is the least I can do to remember a compassionate man who frequently challenged and brought out the best in those with whom he interacted. As any of us who have dealt with or know anything about mass media understand, the interaction between a newspaper and its subjects can sometimes be difficult, even one of gamesmanship. Never with Bob. No matter the context, he was genuine, compassionate, and he truly cared about the community he worked in--every part of that community. He will be greatly missed.
Chris Foss,
PhD Candidate, University of Colorado at Boulder
Willamette Class of 2007
Thank you for letting me know about Bob's passing and sending the obit. I do remember him fondly. He was my favorite teacher at UCSC, so knowledgeable and inspiring. I so enjoyed his classes that I took it upon myself to dump my advisor, asking Bob to be my advisor instead! When I had the bright idea to do a self-designed internship, working for one of the
Supervisors on the City Council in SF, it was Bob that I sought as my advisor for that semester. It was one of my best college decisions. I was sad to see him leave UCSC, but at the time was exploring that same option.
Marianne McGinn
Supervisors on the City Council in SF, it was Bob that I sought as my advisor for that semester. It was one of my best college decisions. I was sad to see him leave UCSC, but at the time was exploring that same option.
Marianne McGinn
Friday, May 27, 2011
I was extremely saddened to learn earlier today of Bob Hawkinson's passing.
I first met Bob more than thirty-seven (37) years ago -- in Spring 1974 -- when I was a sophomore majoring in Politics (and History) at the University of California, Santa Cruz. Bob was just beginning his career as an Assistant Professor and I had enrolled in a seminar Bob was teaching on contemporary political issues required of all Politics undergraduates. I was immediately struck by Bob's affability and student-centeredness and his ability to demand and eventually inculcate intellectual rigor in his students -- traits which, I learned over the years, are rare even in the best of educators and are the hallmark of a great teacher. I took several additional courses from Bob and he eventually presided over my Oral Comprehensive Exam in Politics -- along with his then-colleague, noted political scientist, Grant McConnell.
Bob encouraged me to do graduate work in Public Policy, but I fixed on either doing graduate work in History or enrolling in law school, eventually going to law school in the Bay Area. During that time, Bob and I stayed in touch, with Bob subletting out his house near Santa Cruz to me and a couple of other students while he spent the Summer (it must have been Summer of 1979)in another city.
Unfortunately, as is often the case for teachers and students,Bob and I fell out of touch. However, in 2009 -- some thirty (30) years after I had sublet his house -- I googled Bob's name and discovered that he was closing out what had been a long and successful career at Willamette. I read with interest the many accolades Bob had received while there and, of course, was not surprised that virtually all of them centered on his direct work -- both as a Dean and Professor-- with students. I emailed Bob, bringing him up to speed regarding what I had been doing since law school (practicing law and teaching part-time as an adjunct at the University of Idaho College of Law), thanking him for serving as a role model to me as I tried to come close in my own teaching to the kind of teacher Bob was when I was one of his students, telling Bob that I was interested in getting into full-time law teaching, and suggesting we get together in Salem when I visited Portland (I have a daughter who lives there).
Bob responded back, telling me of his plans to move from his deanship back in to teaching. Bob encouraged me to pursue my full-time law teaching aspirations and suggested that I contact the Dean of Willamette's law school and use his (Bob's)name if/when I did so. (Over thirty (30) years had passed since we had last communicated and there was Bob, without missing a beat, providing encouragement to and trying to further the interests of a former student). He agreed that we should get together if I was ever in the neighborhood.
Unfortunately, we never did. However, I take solace in having let Bob know, if only electronically, that I appreciated what he had done for me as a student (and, eventually, as a teacher). My only regret is that I did not get around to telling Bob that, just this Spring, I obtained that full-time teaching job, having accepted a tenure-track position at the University of Idaho College of Law commencing this Summer.
For me, Bob was among that small group of teachers who lives in my memory -- his laugh, the sparkle in his eyes when he talked about politics or Chicago (I recall him being "tuned in" to Saturday Night Live, with its cast largely coming from the Windy City's Second City comedy troupe, when it first came on air in the late 1970s), his obvious passion for teaching, and his care for students. I am better -- as a person and as a teacher -- for having known him.
John Rumel
I first met Bob more than thirty-seven (37) years ago -- in Spring 1974 -- when I was a sophomore majoring in Politics (and History) at the University of California, Santa Cruz. Bob was just beginning his career as an Assistant Professor and I had enrolled in a seminar Bob was teaching on contemporary political issues required of all Politics undergraduates. I was immediately struck by Bob's affability and student-centeredness and his ability to demand and eventually inculcate intellectual rigor in his students -- traits which, I learned over the years, are rare even in the best of educators and are the hallmark of a great teacher. I took several additional courses from Bob and he eventually presided over my Oral Comprehensive Exam in Politics -- along with his then-colleague, noted political scientist, Grant McConnell.
Bob encouraged me to do graduate work in Public Policy, but I fixed on either doing graduate work in History or enrolling in law school, eventually going to law school in the Bay Area. During that time, Bob and I stayed in touch, with Bob subletting out his house near Santa Cruz to me and a couple of other students while he spent the Summer (it must have been Summer of 1979)in another city.
Unfortunately, as is often the case for teachers and students,Bob and I fell out of touch. However, in 2009 -- some thirty (30) years after I had sublet his house -- I googled Bob's name and discovered that he was closing out what had been a long and successful career at Willamette. I read with interest the many accolades Bob had received while there and, of course, was not surprised that virtually all of them centered on his direct work -- both as a Dean and Professor-- with students. I emailed Bob, bringing him up to speed regarding what I had been doing since law school (practicing law and teaching part-time as an adjunct at the University of Idaho College of Law), thanking him for serving as a role model to me as I tried to come close in my own teaching to the kind of teacher Bob was when I was one of his students, telling Bob that I was interested in getting into full-time law teaching, and suggesting we get together in Salem when I visited Portland (I have a daughter who lives there).
Bob responded back, telling me of his plans to move from his deanship back in to teaching. Bob encouraged me to pursue my full-time law teaching aspirations and suggested that I contact the Dean of Willamette's law school and use his (Bob's)name if/when I did so. (Over thirty (30) years had passed since we had last communicated and there was Bob, without missing a beat, providing encouragement to and trying to further the interests of a former student). He agreed that we should get together if I was ever in the neighborhood.
Unfortunately, we never did. However, I take solace in having let Bob know, if only electronically, that I appreciated what he had done for me as a student (and, eventually, as a teacher). My only regret is that I did not get around to telling Bob that, just this Spring, I obtained that full-time teaching job, having accepted a tenure-track position at the University of Idaho College of Law commencing this Summer.
For me, Bob was among that small group of teachers who lives in my memory -- his laugh, the sparkle in his eyes when he talked about politics or Chicago (I recall him being "tuned in" to Saturday Night Live, with its cast largely coming from the Windy City's Second City comedy troupe, when it first came on air in the late 1970s), his obvious passion for teaching, and his care for students. I am better -- as a person and as a teacher -- for having known him.
John Rumel
Bob H.
My best memory of Bob will be the last rime I saw him at graduation as the U of Chicago grad unmercifully teased my roommate and Nobel prize winning Northwestern U. Professor. He could not be contained and had everyone laughing. As a trustee who worked with him, his whole life was dedicated to Willamette and mostly its students He will be dearly missed. Stewart Butler, trustee
Q
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Device
2001 Greece Trip
I have a few pictures of Bob touring Greece with the Fulbright tour in summer 2001 that nicely illustrate Sammy Basu's reminiscences. Bob was our tour's military expert. So he was really excited to stand on the very site where the combined Greek forces dealt the final, decisive blow to the army of the Persian invaders under Mardonios in 479 BCE.
Unfortunately, the site was completely overgrown with weeds, and everywhere rocks and debris from the ancient city formed hidden stumbling blocks. Bob fell badly and really hurt himself, but even wounded, he persevered and gave us all a lecture on the battle that saved Greece from Persian rule forever.
The other two images show Bob in Corinth and some fresh octopi waiting to be devoured by Bob and the rest of us in the harbor of Aegina.
Ortwin Knorr
Associate Professor of Classics
Director of the Center for Ancient Studies and Archaeology
Unfortunately, the site was completely overgrown with weeds, and everywhere rocks and debris from the ancient city formed hidden stumbling blocks. Bob fell badly and really hurt himself, but even wounded, he persevered and gave us all a lecture on the battle that saved Greece from Persian rule forever.
 |
| Bob with bloody knees in Plataea, being patched up by Carol Long (sitting) and Catherine Collins. |
Ortwin Knorr
Associate Professor of Classics
Director of the Center for Ancient Studies and Archaeology
Bob understood humanity.
He was an academic, yes, but he was also wise about the world.
As a historian and current events teacher, he knew why things happen in the world,
not just what happens.
He understood humanity and fought for justice and compassion.
That was Bob to me.
I guess that makes him a humanitarian.
Tim Kelly
He was an academic, yes, but he was also wise about the world.
As a historian and current events teacher, he knew why things happen in the world,
not just what happens.
He understood humanity and fought for justice and compassion.
That was Bob to me.
I guess that makes him a humanitarian.
Tim Kelly
Politics in the Extreme
Anyone who has had the privilege of knowing Bob Hawkinson likely has a story (or several) to share. He has been an influential part of the Willamette community for many years. Bob Hawkinson was certainly influential to me during my time at Willamette.
I took Politics in the Extreme with him in the spring of 2008, my sophomore year at Willamette. I was the only sophomore in the class dominated by soon graduating seniors. To be honest, I was a little intimidated to be surrounded by upperclassmen in a class being taught by the Dean. I survived the semester with long hours droning through large amounts of assigned reading and a few sleepless nights. The class covered the topics of the Iraq War, torture, terrorism, and the genocides of indigenous people throughout history.
The class was to conclude with a one-on-one oral exam with Bob Hawkinson spanning every topic of the semester. Again, I was intimidated as a young sophomore to have to battle for a good grade with such an intellectual man in the field of politics. While preparing for the final, I devised a great ice breaker to sever the tension and hopefully win over a decent grade. I arrived to his office for my final early while he was still out. When he arrived, he was shocked to find me in full camouflage wearing a ski mask threatening to torture him. I had come prepared with a bag full of all the items needed to water board him. With him handcuffed, we paraded around the UC to different offices. I succeeded in breaking the ice and apparently passed the course, but more importantly I had one of the most enjoyable finals of my Willamette career.
Bob Hawkinson retired from his position of “Dean of the night” but still remained a common presence around campus. He was often found in the Bistro or strolling around Kaneko. We also shared parking spaces near each other and would engage in conversation in passing. I often joked that I expected to see him roaming around in a robe with a cup of coffee in his retired state. He was a good person to bounce ideas off of and to cure senioritis while writing my politics thesis.
I am sad that I will be unable to share what I’ve accomplished since graduating with him, but I am grateful for the opportunity to have known Bob Hawkinson.
Brandon Petersen
Willamette CLA ‘10
Politics
Willamette CLA ‘10
Politics
Thursday, May 26, 2011
A Message from Tokyo International University
We were saddened to learn of the recent passing of Mr. Hawkinson. Legacy lives in the lives one touches, and we wish to celebrate Mr. Hawkinson's many contributions to the Willamette community. His dedication has touched countless lives among students of the USA, Japan, and the world.
On behalf of Tokyo International University,
Nobuyasu Kurata, Chancellor
Tsugio Tajiri, President
Tsugio Tajiri, President
Bob Hawkinson, fellow Viking, fellow Intercultural Adventurer
Like everyone else, I was very saddened by the news about Bob. I have
been part of the Willamette/TIUA community since early 1989 and Bob is one
of the first people I remember meeting as I got to know the campus
community.
At that time, I could sense his energy and enthusiasm about "all things
Willamette." Later, I had occasion to work with Bob as he fulfilled the
role of Interim Dean of the CLA. I admired not only his enthusiasm but
also his wisdom and his willingness to always go the extra mile to see
that we all were able to do the right thing.
When President Pelton appointed Bob as Dean of Campus Life, I knew that it
was a perfect fit. Through his visionary work, Bob confirmed the wisdom
of President Pelton's decision. It was a pleasure working with Bob on the
development of Kaneko Commons and also on the multiple ways that we have
broadened and deepened our joint (WU & TIUA) co-curricular and residential
programming efforts.
Because of Bob's continuous support and ability to see the big picture, WU
and TIUA have been able to accomplish amazing things together that are the
envy of many other universities.
Bob was an innate "interculturalist." I was so pleased to have the
chance to visit TIU and Tokyo with him a number of years ago. After this
experience, Bob reinforced his interest in our collective exchange and I
know there are many former TIUA and TIU transfer students that fondly
remember their wonderful conversations with Professor Hawkinson.
To one of the few people that knew how to pronounce my name in the same
way my Grandmother did, and on behalf of TIUA...
Takk min venn (Thank you my friend),
Gunnar Gundersen
been part of the Willamette/TIUA community since early 1989 and Bob is one
of the first people I remember meeting as I got to know the campus
community.
At that time, I could sense his energy and enthusiasm about "all things
Willamette." Later, I had occasion to work with Bob as he fulfilled the
role of Interim Dean of the CLA. I admired not only his enthusiasm but
also his wisdom and his willingness to always go the extra mile to see
that we all were able to do the right thing.
When President Pelton appointed Bob as Dean of Campus Life, I knew that it
was a perfect fit. Through his visionary work, Bob confirmed the wisdom
of President Pelton's decision. It was a pleasure working with Bob on the
development of Kaneko Commons and also on the multiple ways that we have
broadened and deepened our joint (WU & TIUA) co-curricular and residential
programming efforts.
Because of Bob's continuous support and ability to see the big picture, WU
and TIUA have been able to accomplish amazing things together that are the
envy of many other universities.
Bob was an innate "interculturalist." I was so pleased to have the
chance to visit TIU and Tokyo with him a number of years ago. After this
experience, Bob reinforced his interest in our collective exchange and I
know there are many former TIUA and TIU transfer students that fondly
remember their wonderful conversations with Professor Hawkinson.
To one of the few people that knew how to pronounce my name in the same
way my Grandmother did, and on behalf of TIUA...
Takk min venn (Thank you my friend),
Gunnar Gundersen
I knew Bob Hawkinson for 27 years, going back to my time teaching English at Willamette and brainstorming with him about, then teaching in, the first World Views seminars. For several years we also team-taught a seminar on "Community and Authority," and after I moved on to the UO Honors College, he brought me back to Willamette to help him with the Kaneko Commons project, which was the culmination of his vision for community on a college campus. He wanted Kaneko to be a living and learning space that would be fun, democratic, intellectually stimulating, and integral to life at Willamette. I'm very happy that he could make that vision a reality. Bob and I shared a great deal--interests in education, politics, culture, travel, music, drama, art, family, friends, ideas, books, controversy--even a birthday that relegated us both to the status of flaky Aquarians. We had many many great conversations, and I was looking forward to talking with him about my coming trip to Ann Arbor this summer to team-teach with a political theorist at U Michigan--just as Bob and I had done at Willamette. Instead I got a call from David Rigsby. From reading this blog I see just how many people Bob inspired, led, collaborated with, and loved. It is some comfort to know that he will not be easily forgotten.
Sharon Schuman
Sharon Schuman
Birds of a Feather...
I saw Bob for the last time about a month ago, and I was totally unprepared for the text message I received last Sunday. In the days since Bob's passing, I've been fortunate to share memories with others who knew him and to jointly attempt to deduce exactly what those qualities were that made him so uniquely special - so Bob, so "The Hawk." As already mentioned here, it is clear that his sense of humor is at the top of the list. As others have mused, Bob had fun. Despite the sometimes less-than-ideal minutiae of his job, Bob showed up, everyday - and he brought a sense of sincere joy with him. There were few stresses that a trip to the Bistro couldn't fix, or at least assuage (a double americano - occasionally accompanied in the afternoons by the most recent cookie out of the oven). It seems this joie de vivre was the source of some of the qualities I will remember most about Bob: he unwaveringly supported his students, he didn't back down from a challenge, and he had a sense of academic adventure.
It's funny; I'm sure I interacted with Bob over the course of my work with WEB and an attempt to revive Glee, but I remember my first personal conversation with him taking place in my final year at Willamette. I had scheduled a meeting with Bob to discuss the possibility of bringing some potentially controversial speakers to campus; specifically, I wanted to host a discussion about feminism and the growing number of women in positions of power (in a business sense) in the adult entertainment industry - not only that, but I wanted his office to help me pay for it. While a lesser administrator would likely have tucked tail and run, Bob didn't bat an eye. As we discussed my proposal, our conversation meandered from the evolving waves of feminism to my own intellectual evolution, from the research proposal I was working on to his experiences growing up on the South Side and as a young campaign volunteer, from my experiences as a Politics major to the changing political climate of the student body over his tenure at Willamette (explained as an exemplary microcosm of broader national politics, of course). I believe that when I left Bob's office nearly an hour later, he had pledged somewhere around $500 in funding for my event. We discussed the potential for criticism from parents, alumni, and the Salem community and I felt assured that we would go down together if it came to that. As it turned out, the only real complaint Bob's office received was from a Portland-based adult film producer who was quite outraged that she had not been invited to be a panelist at the event; Bob took great pleasure in making me squirm and think "oh no," as he built up the story of this complaint from "a very concerned citizen" while I stood behind the Bistro counter preparing his afternoon americano. Bob was willing to go out on a limb for me in the name of academic and intellectual exploration, and I still appreciate that.
As many can attest, Bob's fearlessness in the face of a challenge was not limited to simply academic matters. Later in 2008, a group of us Politics seniors held an off-campus, end-of-the-year gathering for our departmental cohort and faculty. At some point in the evening, a challenge was posed to the faculty members present to prove their mettle in an activity involving red plastic cups at which college seniors tend to be quite skilled. I doubt many were unfamiliar with this particular activity, but the professor/student (even of the over-21 variety) dynamic complicated the matter. Not wanting to seem too eager (or, perhaps more accurately, unsure how to politely decline) our guests sequentially pawned our request off on colleague after colleague until finally it was pointed out, "Look, the Dean of Campus life is here; it's up to him." And so, we explained the rules to Hawk: it's a relay; the winning team is determined far more by skill, precision, and dexterity than stomach capacity or lining; everyone can use the beverage of their choice - no pressure (seeing as this was all in good fun, and we weren't freshman, after all); just one friendly round. Bob listened intently, nodding and thinking it over. His response? "Competition! I like it!" And so we lined up, seniors vis-a-vis our professors, along either side of a ping-pong table that had seen better days. I happened to be positioned directly across Bob, and after his team had been handily defeated, he pointed a finger at me across the table, incensed, and issued a challenge of his own: "I want a rematch, Michaelson - you and me! Mano a mano!" I assured him I would be game anytime. Sadly, that rematch will have to wait.
Of course, Bob and I had more serious interactions as well. We discussed my time at Willamette. He praised my choice of an advisor. We talked about my possible career path and he offered practical wisdom about grad school. In our interactions, I always felt a connection with Bob, but I realize that that was how he related with all students. While I never took a class from him, I was no less a student of his. Bob was a teacher in the truest sense of the word; he derived the greatest joy from sharing his passion for learning with others. It was apparent through conversations about my classes (as well as on this blog) that Bob was as attentive to, and proud of, his colleagues as he was his students. He saw us not simply as professors and students, but as a community of learners: growing, evolving, and discovering together. Compatriots on the journey, for Bob, we were all here to better understand the world and our place in it - and to hopefully find our passions and callings as he had so clearly found his.
As I think about Bob and his deep sense of community - mentor and friend to colleagues and students alike, able to engage in a juvenile activity with a group of 22-year-olds one minute, and to teach a class on political theory or discuss the future of the university over coffee with colleagues the next - I think of the generations of students, now spread across the globe, whose lives he has touched. And familiar words come to mind bearing a whole new meaning: Non nobis solum nati sumus. Not unto ourselves alone are we born. Bob gave freely of himself and his loss will be felt for years to come in our institution, in our department, in our hearts and minds, in our community. We'll miss you, Hawk.
Stacy Michaelson
Class of 2008
It's funny; I'm sure I interacted with Bob over the course of my work with WEB and an attempt to revive Glee, but I remember my first personal conversation with him taking place in my final year at Willamette. I had scheduled a meeting with Bob to discuss the possibility of bringing some potentially controversial speakers to campus; specifically, I wanted to host a discussion about feminism and the growing number of women in positions of power (in a business sense) in the adult entertainment industry - not only that, but I wanted his office to help me pay for it. While a lesser administrator would likely have tucked tail and run, Bob didn't bat an eye. As we discussed my proposal, our conversation meandered from the evolving waves of feminism to my own intellectual evolution, from the research proposal I was working on to his experiences growing up on the South Side and as a young campaign volunteer, from my experiences as a Politics major to the changing political climate of the student body over his tenure at Willamette (explained as an exemplary microcosm of broader national politics, of course). I believe that when I left Bob's office nearly an hour later, he had pledged somewhere around $500 in funding for my event. We discussed the potential for criticism from parents, alumni, and the Salem community and I felt assured that we would go down together if it came to that. As it turned out, the only real complaint Bob's office received was from a Portland-based adult film producer who was quite outraged that she had not been invited to be a panelist at the event; Bob took great pleasure in making me squirm and think "oh no," as he built up the story of this complaint from "a very concerned citizen" while I stood behind the Bistro counter preparing his afternoon americano. Bob was willing to go out on a limb for me in the name of academic and intellectual exploration, and I still appreciate that.
As many can attest, Bob's fearlessness in the face of a challenge was not limited to simply academic matters. Later in 2008, a group of us Politics seniors held an off-campus, end-of-the-year gathering for our departmental cohort and faculty. At some point in the evening, a challenge was posed to the faculty members present to prove their mettle in an activity involving red plastic cups at which college seniors tend to be quite skilled. I doubt many were unfamiliar with this particular activity, but the professor/student (even of the over-21 variety) dynamic complicated the matter. Not wanting to seem too eager (or, perhaps more accurately, unsure how to politely decline) our guests sequentially pawned our request off on colleague after colleague until finally it was pointed out, "Look, the Dean of Campus life is here; it's up to him." And so, we explained the rules to Hawk: it's a relay; the winning team is determined far more by skill, precision, and dexterity than stomach capacity or lining; everyone can use the beverage of their choice - no pressure (seeing as this was all in good fun, and we weren't freshman, after all); just one friendly round. Bob listened intently, nodding and thinking it over. His response? "Competition! I like it!" And so we lined up, seniors vis-a-vis our professors, along either side of a ping-pong table that had seen better days. I happened to be positioned directly across Bob, and after his team had been handily defeated, he pointed a finger at me across the table, incensed, and issued a challenge of his own: "I want a rematch, Michaelson - you and me! Mano a mano!" I assured him I would be game anytime. Sadly, that rematch will have to wait.
Of course, Bob and I had more serious interactions as well. We discussed my time at Willamette. He praised my choice of an advisor. We talked about my possible career path and he offered practical wisdom about grad school. In our interactions, I always felt a connection with Bob, but I realize that that was how he related with all students. While I never took a class from him, I was no less a student of his. Bob was a teacher in the truest sense of the word; he derived the greatest joy from sharing his passion for learning with others. It was apparent through conversations about my classes (as well as on this blog) that Bob was as attentive to, and proud of, his colleagues as he was his students. He saw us not simply as professors and students, but as a community of learners: growing, evolving, and discovering together. Compatriots on the journey, for Bob, we were all here to better understand the world and our place in it - and to hopefully find our passions and callings as he had so clearly found his.
As I think about Bob and his deep sense of community - mentor and friend to colleagues and students alike, able to engage in a juvenile activity with a group of 22-year-olds one minute, and to teach a class on political theory or discuss the future of the university over coffee with colleagues the next - I think of the generations of students, now spread across the globe, whose lives he has touched. And familiar words come to mind bearing a whole new meaning: Non nobis solum nati sumus. Not unto ourselves alone are we born. Bob gave freely of himself and his loss will be felt for years to come in our institution, in our department, in our hearts and minds, in our community. We'll miss you, Hawk.
Stacy Michaelson
Class of 2008
I knew Bob when I started working as a CM in Kaneko last year. At the time, I also took a politics class with him.. Bob loved to lecture and he had a lot of insight into not just political theory but a lot of history which made his lectures very exciting and educational to listen to.
I took other politics classes with him, being that it was my major. He was always the type of professor who asked how you were doing and tried to accommodate your personal needs with your academic commitment. There were times were he moved deadlines for students to accommodate life. He wasn't just a professor, he was a mentor, a friend and he had a lot of kindness and compassion for the people he was around.
I continued working with him this past year as a Kaneko Commons Reslife Intern. That position allowed me to continue working with him as a mentor and as my politics major adviser. I was very fortunate to have had him as my advisor. As a senior, I often sought his advice, opinion and help for cover letters, resumes, graduate programs, and sometimes even life advice. I feel very blessed and fortunate to have known him as not just a professor and a advisor but also as a person. We definitely shared many moments and a lot of laughter- I often would tease him about his addiction to coffee and he would tease me about my taste in Pepsi (not Coke). Sometimes, I would find him eating candy in the Kaneko Office and would have to remind him that he has diabetes.
The last time I saw him was last Tuesday and he looked a bit tired but not more than usual. We were also emailing back and forth about my post-graduate program in Chicago that he had been arranging and fundraising for me since February. He had put so much effort, time and commitment into making that happen for me because he wanted me to pursue my passion in social justice and activism work. The last email that he sent me was on Friday at 6:30pm, letting me know that fundraising for my post-grad program had been complete.
I'm sad that Bob has left us but at the same time I have nothing but good memories to remember him with. He was a kind man, a gentle friend, and an inspiring professor. He gave Willamette a lot and he definitely set the bar high as a professor, as a Dean and as a Kaneko Faculty Mentor. I am thankful and feel blessed to have gotten to know him over these past two years- because without him my WU experience would not have been the same.
Shahed Kadem
Class of 2011
I took other politics classes with him, being that it was my major. He was always the type of professor who asked how you were doing and tried to accommodate your personal needs with your academic commitment. There were times were he moved deadlines for students to accommodate life. He wasn't just a professor, he was a mentor, a friend and he had a lot of kindness and compassion for the people he was around.
I continued working with him this past year as a Kaneko Commons Reslife Intern. That position allowed me to continue working with him as a mentor and as my politics major adviser. I was very fortunate to have had him as my advisor. As a senior, I often sought his advice, opinion and help for cover letters, resumes, graduate programs, and sometimes even life advice. I feel very blessed and fortunate to have known him as not just a professor and a advisor but also as a person. We definitely shared many moments and a lot of laughter- I often would tease him about his addiction to coffee and he would tease me about my taste in Pepsi (not Coke). Sometimes, I would find him eating candy in the Kaneko Office and would have to remind him that he has diabetes.
The last time I saw him was last Tuesday and he looked a bit tired but not more than usual. We were also emailing back and forth about my post-graduate program in Chicago that he had been arranging and fundraising for me since February. He had put so much effort, time and commitment into making that happen for me because he wanted me to pursue my passion in social justice and activism work. The last email that he sent me was on Friday at 6:30pm, letting me know that fundraising for my post-grad program had been complete.
I'm sad that Bob has left us but at the same time I have nothing but good memories to remember him with. He was a kind man, a gentle friend, and an inspiring professor. He gave Willamette a lot and he definitely set the bar high as a professor, as a Dean and as a Kaneko Faculty Mentor. I am thankful and feel blessed to have gotten to know him over these past two years- because without him my WU experience would not have been the same.
Shahed Kadem
Class of 2011
Save the Date: on-campus gathering Alumni Weekend (Sept. 18th)
For those students, faculty and others unable to be present on short notice during our summer vacation, we will also celebrate Bob with a special on-campus gathering during the fall semester: the Sunday afternoon of Alumni Weekend (September 18) with details TBA.
Gathering to Remember Bob: Sunday, June 5th at 2pm at WU
We are planning an initial gathering to share our grief, our gratitude, and our stories (oh, the stories we have to tell!) in memory of our friend and colleague, teacher and mentor Bob Hawkinson. It will take place on Sunday, June 5 at 2:00 p.m. in Hudson Hall of the Rogers Music Center, with a reception to follow in the Rogers Rehearsal Hall. Several of Bob's family will be present, and folks who are in the area are especially invited.
Bob Hawkinson Remembrance
There's a hole in the firmament of American politics today. Bob Hawkinson – Americanist, Chicago pol, inveterate political gossip, and civic tour de force—has left us all wondering what now?
I can't remember when I first met Bob – I had not been on campus very long and neither had he—but was he a force in my life from what I will call the beginning. I was unfortunate enough to draw the short straw and miss out on Bob's Intro to American Politics Class, but I took everything I could after that. He introduced me to Locke and Rousseau and Mill. But knowing my particular proclivities, also to Thoreau and Emerson and Whitman. And to my great pleasure, we spent the sunny afternoons of my senior spring in his seminar room, working our way through Democracy in America.
I know I disappointed Bob. He was pushing me toward a graduate degree in political philosophy or American literature, some avenue to pursue what he called "the life of the mind." To his dismay, I chose the safe route – law school—but even so, he was in the cheering section for that, too.
This afternoon, here on my desk at Portland State University sits the same copy of Democracy in America—the one that I pored over and underlined in pink pen in the spring of 1988, and you know what? I still turn to it regularly. I still think about and write about and practice the art of association that amazed and inspired Tocqueville. And, I still read American poetry in the same breathless search for "poems of democracy."
I thought I would have another chance to gossip and laugh with Bob. I thought I would have another chance to speculate with him about the 2012 Republican primary or whether the sales tax would always be a dead letter in Oregon. But, as they say, you never know. Now that the long meandering conversation with Bob is over, I can say this: Bob Hawkinson taught me what it means to be an American, what it means to be a patriot. He taught me there is as much space for idealism and pride as there is for disappointment and outrage. He taught me to read and think and keep holding democracy's feet to the fire.
Wendy Willis
Class of 1988
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