Friday’s “Celebrating 50 Years” event at IU Northwest came off OK after a rough start. Activities were spread out all over campus and entertainment included the IUN cheerleaders, songs by campus daycare kids, and the Emerson School Jazz band. There was no parade as originally scheduled or formal program like I wanted to reflect on the past. I had been told Chancellor Bergland would give his welcoming remarks on the stage at the library courtyard at 12:45, but he went on at 12:15 with hardly anyone present. Had not library director Tim Sutherland and Physical Plant director Jefimenko not given most of their staff the afternoon off, the place would have been dead.
After Sheriff Roy Dominguez arrived, I asked Bruce if he’d like to introduce him, but he said it would be an insult since the crowd was so small. The Sheriff shook hands and passed out little badges similar to the wings airlines used to give kids. He seemed to know half the folks, including the m.c. for the afternoon Carolyn Jordon, and was thoroughly enjoying himself. Event coordinator Toni Lieteau asked if he wished to say a few words, and he was great, mentioning that he was an IU Northwest grad and if it weren’t for Special Services counselor Elsa Rivera and professors such as Bob Lovely, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity for future success. He mentioned that he met his wife Betty on campus and got his start in law enforcement in the campus cadet program under Andy Lazar. He reserved special praise for Professor Gary Martin, who subsequently became his Chief of Police and close friend. Dominguez is considering running for governor in 2012 and showed me a Website called him “Indiana Roy” and illustrated in a way that is a take-off on Indiana Jones.
Around two o’clock 89 year-old Bill Neil arrived. Fifty years ago he was acting director and in charge of the campus immediately after it moved from downtown Gary to Glen Park. Since the Chancellor was not around, I introduced him between acts, mentioning that his association with the campus went back over 70 years to when he first enrolled at the old Gary College that held classes at Horace Mann High School. Bill, who hired me 39 years ago, then got up and said that someone once defined history as “One damn thing after another” but with IUN it has been “one great thing after another.” He was terrific.
There weren’t many faculty around, but I did introduce Bill to English professor Anne Balay and Gianluca DiMuzio, who is acting as Chair of the History and Philosopher Department since Diana Chen-lin is on sabbatical. Kathy Malone greeted Bill warmly and showed him a tree dedicated to his former secretary Lavern Gutsch. He seemed touched. Somebody was filming the entire program – perhaps the Gary cable station – so I’ll have to see if Bill’s remarks have been saved for posterity. Several nice items were raffled off including a shirt autographed by former White Sox star Ron Kittle (married to Laura on our committee) and a framed South Shore poster. The last three digits of my ticket were 440, and three times the number drawn was in the 440s. Otto Jefimenko won the poster and then gave it away to computer guru Mark Uncapher, who had told him beforehand that he'd really like to win it. By four o’clock a considerable audience had gathered, including many families, as Asian and Mexican folk dancers and an African-American percussion group performed. So the final hours were worth all the hard work Toni Lieteau’s committee went to in “Celebrating 50 Years.”
Yesterday's Post-Trib carried an article about Harold Okone by Jerry Davich entitled, "Area veterinarian: 'Jer, I've had a remarkable life.'" Davich writes that when they'd have lunch, Hal "would tell me another chapter of his incredibly interesting life." One story involved a dalliance with Diane Mitford, the wife of controversial British politician Sir Oswald Mosley. Davich writes, "Diane bought Hal a new suit for their date and even took photos of him at a racetrack." Davich mentioned having a copy of the first episode of Hal's proposed TV sitcom "For Love of Harry" in his filing cabinet.
Got an email from former student Tim Jackomis, who is now Director of Surveillance at Blue Chip Casino in Michigan City. He wanted a copy of “Steelworkers Tales” because I published an article he wrote about his father in it. Unfortunately that Steel Shavings issue is out of print but I did Xerox some pages for him in a section called “Horseplay.” One story his dad told him was that in winter men working outside would light fires in oil drums. One guy on a scaffold above the fire liked to drop balloons onto the drums. When they exploded, they sounded like gunfire and would send sparks all over. Mill workers, he said, sometimes took oxygen tanks holding over a ton of pressurized oxygen to the shore of Lake Michigan and strike the valve off with a sledgehammer, launching the tank toward the water like a torpedo. Jackomis added: "My father remembers a mill worker who on paydays would raffle off a shotgun. He would take 52 playing cards and cut them in half. After selling the half-cards for five dollars a chance, he would put his half in a hat and hold a drawing, from which about 80 dollars was profit. Sometimes he would raffle off fishing tackle, deer rifles and jewelry."
It would be great to get "Steelworkers Tales" back in print, perhaps with nre information added relating to the research Anne Balay and I plan to do. After volume 19 came out, some officials at Bethleham Steel wanted IU Northwest to force me to stop its circulation because of material about sex and sexism there. Chancellor Peggy Elliott stuck by me, and the crisis passed. One of the interviews I did for the issue was with Valerie Denney, and I subsequently used quotes by her in several published papers, including "Indiana Women of Steel" in the Spring 2009 issue of TRACES. I recall she had a bad cold the day of the interview and almost begged off. One funny story she told was about a guy who cooked lunch out of his locker, which contained, she recalled, "a full-size refrigerator plus a microwave and two picnic tables with paper table cloths. He'd serve two or three types of sandwiches and all kinds of pop and candy. He did doughnuts and coffee in the morning. He would make these marvelous pork sandwiches. He would do take-out orders for other departments. Then it would get too big, and management would crack down on him. Then gradually it would start back up again. He was black, and workers called it the Black Hen Pantry. He worked at night, too. He had a snow plowing service in the winter. He would be out in the parking lot starting batteries. He was constantly trying to make money."
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