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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