“Reflections of a Former Station Director”
by Larry McCloskey
presented at the Open House Celebration, Sunday,
May 6, 2001
This is a rare and special place. It changes people who live and work here, like very few places on this planet. We see here in Lindgren Hall, evidence of change, physical change in the plant. But wisely, the physical place is still recognizable; I knew I was at Rosario Beach the moment I drove in. This relative stability is indeed comforting to us “true Rosario-ites.“ After all, most of us are discomfited whenever we go back to our previous lives and our childhood haunts especially, and try to deal with the changes. Some, especially the children who spent idyllic summers here, may long for the bunny trails through the blackberry thickets. But for those of us who remember the “good old days,“ frankly they were terrible, at least for some aspects of our life here.
I'd like to tick off some of the grimmer recollections that I believe are now gone, I hope forever:
- Repairs, and even building construction, all done with surplus materials.
- Crawling around under every building, among cobwebs, trying to fix ruptured seawater supply lines, freshwater plumbing, and jacking up old buildings so doors would open and close.
- Sitting on toilets, trying not to put one's full weight on them for fear of crashing the whole thing into those crawlspaces.
- Watching Orah Fry, then Dale Lent, leap from crisis to crisis, whose incident rate always doubled on Friday afternoons, with to-do lists growing much faster than they could knock them off.
- Moving van sagas, which occurred twice each year. We used to move everything, even basic lab furniture, from College Place to Rosario. And after loading everything at the main campus, we would drive madly to try to beat the moving van when it arrived at the Marine Station. I remember when the moving van driver moved the diesel up to Leal and Audrey Dickson's cabin and laid on the air horn at 6 a.m. to roust them out to start the unloading.
One of the aspects I think will surely change or at least diminish with the completion of Lindgren Hall and the continuing growth phase here, are telephone calls and letters I used to get, regularly, as Marine Station Director. The callers were often highly agitated, and the message was usually something like “What is wrong with you people? I understand you've gotten rid of Rosario Beach and why in the world would you do such a thing?!“ I had memorized a standard reply that shamelessly paraphrased Mark Twain's comment that “rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.“
While the good old days were often terrible, or at least harsh and challenging, it was certainly not all bad! I have a seemingly endless set of the best of memories.
Watching my own two children grow up here, summer after summer, and so many others, mostly children of colleagues: Barnett's, Barnes', Clayton's, Galusha's, Grable's, Fitch’s’, Fry's, Hayward's, Tooley's, and many others. I invite you to ask any of those now-grown children what Rosario meant to them. Bonding with colleagues who worked, sweated, bled, and cried together to make the place work.
One time we had a a major electrical crisis, whose solution expense seemed so daunting to me that I was sure that Manford Simcock (WWC vice president for financial administration) would sag his shoulders and say, “enough, enough Rosario is just too expensive.“ But instead, when I finished my report to him, he stood up, walked around his desk, grabbed me by the shoulders and said “You gotta have courage, Larry. You're the one who's always reminded me that Rosario was 'God's Special Place', so why be so glum? Come on, this will be a challenge, but some way we are going to get through this and find the funds, so cheer up!“ He did, and the rest is history. May Rosario always have visionary leaders like him.
I meet Rosario alumni all the time, who say things such as “I had the most memorable educational experience of my whole college career,“ “I would give a donation to Rosario before I would donate anything else to my alma mater,“ “I wanted to get married there,“ or “I did have my wedding there.“
Rosario Beach had a way of making you feel needed. May
the next generation not lose that sense of maternalism/paternalism of the
place.
Much dreaming, much visionary thinking, has preceded this very special day.
I pay the ultimate tribute to the FOR Group. Their courage, loyalty, vision,
wisdom, and very hard work made all the difference. Without that group, we
would not have the new cabins and Lindgren Hall. I am in awe of all the visionaries
and dreamers starting with Ernest Booth himself who have brought us to this
day and this dedication event. My heartfelt gratitude to all of you who never
fainted on this journey.
God has blessed this place in so many ways. It is hallowed ground. Let us take off our shoes, so to speak. W