Former President James E. Hoff, S.J., joined an elite group when the University retired a jersey in his honor prior to the game against a fellow Jesuit institution, Creighton University, where Hoff was previously a senior administrator. Hoff is the only non-player to have a jersey retired, joining Jo Ann Osterkamp Henderson, David West, Tyrone Hill and Byron Larkin. During his 10-year tenure as president, Hoff created the vision and raised the funds for the Cintas Center and oversaw growth in the athletic programs.
In the interim just before daybreak—the neutral ground between night owls and early birds—members of the Xavier crew team stagger out of warm beds, rubbing sleep from their eyes as they trek across the silent campus toward Bellarmine Chapel. At 5:00 a.m. they pile into vans for a 45-minute ride to East Fork Lake, where the blue light of dawn begins to glitter on the water’s surface.
A troop of eight gently lifts one of the long, thin sculls from its blocks, hoisting the fiberglass shell onto their shoulders. In a carefully choreographed routine, a coxswain guides them down a shadowy path to the lake’s edge where they step precariously into the water until they’re hip-deep in the murky waves.
The rowers heave themselves into the boat and slowly pull away from shore, the coxswain barking orders from the stern. Blades rip through the water, propelling them forward. Power travels though each part of the body—feet and thighs, stomach and back, arms and shoulders—as they perform drills and scrimmage against each other’s boats. Meanwhile, the sun peaks over the horizon, illuminating the cool mist rising from the water.
They eventually row back to land, their bodies dripping with sweat and backsplash. After tucking away the boats, they fight rush hour traffic on their return. By 7:45 a.m. they’ve slipped back onto campus, unnoticed as usual.
“A lot of people don’t even know about the crew team,” says former president Kevin Gravett, a 2004 graduate.
Despite its anonymity, last year’s team included 32 men and women and received the most funding of the 17 active clubs under the University’s club sports program. Seasonal budget requests have come close to $40,000—rugby, the second most expensive club sport, only receives between $10,000 and $12,000 a year. New boats, which cost $20,000 each, van rentals, equipment, travel, regatta fees and coaching salaries add to the growing budget numbers, offset by the team’s fund-raising efforts.
However, apparel sales, dues and working concessions at sporting events defray only part of the cost: “Crew fund raises far more than any other club sport,” Gravett says. “But the team does it because they are so dedicated to the sport and their team. Crew takes so much time, but everyone works so hard to make it all come together.”
And team members have been tested often since crew’s founding in 1983 when two graduate students formed the club with little money and even less experience in managing a team. Graham Coles, an English import who rowed in college, and fellow student Steve Santen first advertised the crew team at Club Day on the Mall.
“We had maybe 10 committed guys and 10 committed gals,” says Matt Brodbeck, a 1986 graduate and one of the team’s first captains. With a shoestring budget, the team purchased two used boats—one from a high school in New Jersey and another raced in the 1976 Olympics—which Brodbeck estimates cost a total of $1,000.
“We were so focused on saving money that when we went to the regatta site, we would make a bunch of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” he says. The team practices five days a week year round, alternating between land and water on East Fork Lake or the Ohio River. This year they began practicing in the evenings.
“Convincing everyone to meet at 5:00 a.m. and drive down to the river for a workout is tough—especially when it’s so cold,” says Brodbeck. “It’s not a fun, casual sport. You have to be very, very committed to it to achieve any level of success. You have to be fairly dedicated to it just to become competent.”
Crew attracts a decidedly mixed group of athletes—most of whom have never rowed before. High school football players, cross country runners, volleyball players and those who have never belonged to a school sport begin on an even playing field. They don’t receive regular accolades because regattas usually take the team out of town as far as Boston and New Jersey to compete against varsity teams.
“How this team survived 22 years is really a testament to the students because it’s just nothing but dedication that keeps these kids going,” Brodbeck says. “I’d really like to see one of my sons become the first legacy oarsman.”
For years prior to his unexpected death in May, Paul Cioffi, S.J., taught a weeklong seminar to veteran Catholic priests in Vatican City in Rome. So when Leo Klein, S.J., got the news about his dear friend Cioffi, not only was he saddened, but he got another surprise as well. The call came with a request: Prepare the lessons from scratch, fly to Rome and teach the seminar. “I enjoyed it, though it really was something to prepare for,” says Klein, the University’s vice president for mission and ministry. “It was a different level of teaching from undergraduate and graduate students. I was trying to get these people to dig into their own experiences.”
Klein arrived in Rome and took an apartment in Vatican City. During the day, he taught 35 American priests who were on a four-month-long sabbatical, delivering two sessions a day. Klein’s seminar covered Christian life and worship—the Eucharist, the liturgy of the Word, scripture and the sacraments—all in five days. At night, he sampled pasta, pizza and Italian wine at nearby bistros. He needed the break from the all-day lectures and group discussions he monitored, though the topics and feedback were engaging. “I was amazed with these people and impressed with how serious they were,” he says. “They said they were stimulated, and they raised other questions. We got into some pretty heady theology.”
Ida B. Wells’ essays on the practice of lynching African-American men in post-Civil War America have remained somewhat unknown. Until now. Twelve women faculty from three universities are studying the works of female political writers in a project of the National Endowment for the Humanities.
It isn’t just the horrors Wells wrote about that intrigues them; it’s that Wells, a black journalist from Mississippi, had the courage to speak out at a time when blacks and women were denied full participation in American society. She risked her life to make her point. The other writers being studied also took risks: Russian novelist and philosopher Ayn Rand, 14th century French essayist and novelist Christine de Pizan and Chicago social reformer Jane Addams among them.
“This gives us an opportunity to reinvigorate our thinking,” says Christine Anderson, co-director for the office of gender and diversity studies. Anderson and Gillian Ahlgren, professor of theology, Nancy Bertaux, professor of economics and human resources, and Carol Winkelmann, professor of English, discuss the readings monthly and are incorporating them them into their courses. The project, titled “Nation, Family and State: Women’s Political Writings,” includes women faculty from the University of Cincinnati and Purdue University, which each are holding a workshop this year.
For more than 30 years, biology professor Stanley Hedeen has tracked the migration patterns of a foreign invader. Sporting black and white outerwear in a herringbone pattern, the four-inch-long natives of Italy have fascinated Hedeen as much for their survival skills as for their ability to literally ride the rails in their quest for new territory.
The story of the Lazarus lizards, whose scientific name Podarcis muralis translates into “wall lizards,” has long been a subject of local Cincinnati lore. Until recently, the details of their arrival were sketchy, but it is now known that a child of the Lazarus family, owners of the Lazarus department store chain, pocketed some lizards while on a vacation in northern Italy in the early 1950s and slipped them through U.S. Customs undetected. The boy, George Rau, let about 10 of the lizards go at the family’s home in the O’Bryonville neighborhood of Cincinnati.
In the 50 years since, the lizards not only survived but thrived, spreading about six miles eastward and into some neighborhoods to the north, including onto Xavier’s campus. Their main venue for mobility: the city’s railroad tracks.
“The Lazarus lizard is interesting because it came over and made it even though it’s a foreigner,” Hedeen says. “But the European wall lizard is a very urbanized lizard. Centuries ago it moved out of the rocky Alps and adapted itself to the cities because people built with rocks and mimicked the landscape. It had already jumped from a natural landscape into a humanized, urbanized landscape, so coming to Cincinnati in the pocket of a child was no change at all.”
Hedeen’s academic interest in the lizards is to learn how they survived in a foreign environment. It doesn’t happen often, he says. Most foreign species die off because of two factors: a hostile environment and competition from native species.
The Lazarus lizards encountered neither. In an article published in Herpetological Review, Hedeen points to the nearly identical climate, rainfall and habitat of northern Italy and Cincinnati as the major factors that allow the lizards to survive. On a visit to southern Europe, he observed the lizards clinging to stone walls, sides of houses, piles of rocks and railway embankments. In Cincinnati, they are seen on stone walls, limestone rock outcrops and railway trestles.
In addition, though, lack of competition from Cincinnati’s three native lizard species left the region up for grabs by the Italian conquerors. The native eastern fence lizard and the broad-headed skinks prefer slightly different terrain than the dry, rocky landscapes of the Lazarus lizards. But development in Cincinnati has ushered the local lizards into ever-shrinking locales such as the forested California Woods Nature Preserve on the eastern edge of the city.
Now Hedeen visits the preserve to see if the Lazarus lizards have reached the skinks’ habitat. They haven’t met up yet, but he expects it’s just a waiting game as the lizards have been spotted just a few hundreds yards from the park. When they arrive, it won’t be pretty.
“If Lazarus moves into the forest, it’s bad news for the skinks,” Hedeen says. “Two different species will not intermingle and over time, one will displace the other. At the boundary between their two habitats, there might be some competition in which Lazarus can still win, or the native skinks can hold their own.”
How the Lazarus lizards are getting to the nature preserve is another topic of study for Hedeen. Initially, the lizard population exploded throughout parts of O’Bryonville, which became known as Lizard Hill, and then spread into nearby neighborhoods. But their most prevalent migration has been eastward via the old Pennsylvania Railroad tracks at the bottom of the hill.
“They hit that track and said this is nice because of the rock ballast and the dried-out ties, and they walked along the tracks. Each generation moves farther down the track,” Hedeen says. “They ride these rails. At some point, the European wall lizard will have moved from the Atlantic to the Pacific, just like the starling, and we’ll study the effect on the natural environment.”
That trip might take a few more decades. In the meantime, Hedeen, who’s retiring this spring, plans on following the little creatures into the skinks’ territory and writing about the encounter. In the world of science, the lizards’ survival is worthy of note, he says, because it’s an unnatural migration.
“The invasion of a foreign species in a northern location like Cincinnati is considered an oddity, because it’s rare for a temperate organism to get across the Atlantic Ocean,” he says. “It’s the only foreign reptile to have made it in the Midwestern U.S.”
Philosophy Jones, who has been at the University 35 years, teaches the courses Ethics as Introduction to Philosophy and Business Ethics, both of which are in high demand by students. Jones received his Ph.D. from the University of Notre Dame and an M.B.A. from Xavier. He began teaching at Xavier in 1969 and said that he has learned from teaching thousands of students that “each class is different and the key to being a good educator is adapting to their style.”
Psychology Berg, who has been at the University for 35 years, teaches classes in general psychology, abnormal psychology, and crime and personality. What keeps him coming back each day, he says, is the “close, personal and ongoing contact with his students.” Additionally, Berg says he believes that the faculty and staff at the University make his job even more enjoyable. His hobbies include music, art, automobiles and mechanical wristwatches.
Bookstore Papania, who has been at the University 35 years, is the textbook manager and assistant manager at the bookstore. She talks to professors about what books they would like to have for their classes and then places their orders to the publishers. In addition, she buys books back from the students. When Papania has time to relax outside of the bookstore, she enjoys reading and is learning to play Texas Hold’em poker just for fun.
Communication Hagerty, who has been at the University 35 years, is a communications professor teaching speech and film classes during the day and is a movie critic for the Cincinnati Suburban Newspapers by night. The message he tries to convey to his students is to “appreciate more than the technical skills in the art, such as the acting or directing, but it’s the messages in the art that hold its true beauty.”
The times may indeed be a-changin’, but Bob Dylan’s poetry resonates with today’s college students just as it did with their parents. Just ask Daniel Dwyer. An assistant professor of philosophy at the University, Dwyer uses Dylan’s lyrics as brainstorming prompts in his ethics and theories of knowledge classes. It’s a practice he began using during his four years teaching at Boston College and continued when he came to the University this past fall.
Dwyer says the songs, which he uses judiciously, are a great way to get students excited about the class. But more than that, recent years have seen an increasing scholarly interest in Dylan’s writing, making his work all the more appropriate for use in the classroom. Dwyer points out that while Dylan initially gained fame as a protest singer, his work in the mid-1960s began to take on an introspective, philosophical quality—a quality that has remained the primary theme of his writing.
“His songs seem to speak to the desire to know oneself and to rip the mask off of our own self-deception,” Dwyer says, “even though he, with his fame and with his songs, also wears masks. But his poetry speaks to people at the level where he takes off the mask, where he does reveal something of the poet and the philosopher.”
The death of the Musketeer annual was short-lived. As reported in last spring’s Xavier magazine, the yearbook was cancelled due to rising costs and lack of interest. That decision was reversed in the fall after discussions concerning its value as a research tool and memento. The plan is to proceed with production and pay for the $50,000 publication with a mix of funding sources yet to be determined.
Tucked away in the chilly, upper reserve rooms of McDonald Library, a faded blue booklet with a hand-drawn cover links past to present. The thin paperback comprises a collection of songs published in 1928 to commemorate all areas of University activity.
After appealing to alumni and students for new music to replace outdated tunes, the book’s editors—John C. Downing, Joseph J. McGuiness, John K. Mussio and Eugene Perazzo—compiled hymns, marches, football and victory songs, as well as the school song, “Alma Mater Xavier,” which Mussio himself penned.
Songs such as, “The Galloping Musketeers,” “Xavier Rally Rhyme,” and “Old Xavier for Aye,” reflect the spirit and loyalty of the University during this prosperous decade, and, according to the 1928 yearbook, “has accomplished the purpose for which it was published—to give life and color to all St. Xavier events and to make for a stronger friendship between the loyal sons of the Alma Mater.”
Although many of these songs do not trip as easily along students’ lips as they once did, “Alma Mater Xavier” retains some familiarity. The song is often played at commencement exercises and sung by Xavier’s choirs.
“It is a way to physically touch the living history of Xavier,” says Tom Merrill, conductor of the concert choir and director for choral activities. “Whenever I hear the tune of my college Alma Mater, I am instantly back at that place and in that time.”
On a Friday afternoon in September 2003, a surprised—and humbled—Margaret Hoffman stood before a gymnasium of cheering students, parents, friends and co-workers at Fort Wright Elementary. They gathered to congratulate her for winning the National Distinguished Principal Award for Kentucky. The 1972 graduate has served in the educational field for 37 years—19 of them as Fort Wright Elementary’s principal.
While it is a distinction rarely matched, it was not so out of the ordinary as her sister, Rose Mary, a 1993 M.Ed. graduate, winning Kentucky’s Outstanding Elementary School Counselor award only a few months earlier.
Rose Mary, a 39-year veteran of the Kenton County school system who works at Piner Elementary, credits the University for her and Margaret’s success.
“Both we and our parents have always valued the educational foundation we received at Xavier,” she says. “For two sisters to receive state/national recognition in the same year is probably pretty rare. But, considering parents who encouraged a good education and a university that stressed excellence, winning awards doesn’t seem all that out of the ordinary.”