Features

Abandon 'Hopefully' All Ye Who Enter Here
John A. Beckett, Management

As a business administration major, I was required to take a senior seminar with Professor John Beckett. In the spring of 1977, I needed a reference for my first job, so I mustered my courage and made an appointment. We sat in his office while he questioned me about this particular career opportunity and my future plans. Following our discussion, he wrote a single word on a small piece of paper, handed it to me, and suggested I try to refrain from using the word so often. After what seemed to be an interminable pause he took my reference form, wrote "Highly Recommended" across the face of it and signed his name. Once out of his office, I looked at the piece of paper. He had written the word "hopefully." That piece of paper has remained on my bulletin board for more than 20 years as a reminder that it is more effective to work for something than to hope for it.
—Jonathan Kipp '77

Idiot Box
Alden Winn '37, Electrical Engineering

In the 1960s, the electrical engineering introductory course was taught by the then-department chair, Professor Alden Winn. We sophomores were a little in awe at being taught by such an exalted person. In an early class, preparing us for an upcoming lab where we'd be working with some large machinery, Professor Winn described a specific piece of equipment that had a protection circuit to prevent damage to the equipment and to us. The system, he said, was "foolproof." One of the students asked, "What if you hold the switch closed by hanging on to the handle and keeping it in contact?" Professor Winn paused, shook his head and replied, "Well, I said it was foolproof. I never said it was damn-foolproof."
—Dick Ross '66

The Gift of Gab
Thomas Williams '50, '58G, English

News that Tom Williams had been nominated for a prestigious award for his latest novel arrived at Hamilton Smith Hall the very morning I had a conference scheduled with him to discuss a story I had written. Faculty members kept dropping by to offer congratulations. Finally, he shut his door and apologized for all the interruptions. He began to talk about my main character's use of voice--he had obviously read and reread my story, making detailed notes on everything from plot to punctuation. Here was a man who had just been nominated for a National Book Award, talking to me about whether my main character's dialogue was believable. He was completely focused on my world at the very time he should have been on the top of his own. A postscript: That short story was eventually published in 2004, 18 years later.
—Jon Steiner '86, '89G

Illustration by Michael Witte, all rights reserved

Yes, Twenty-Three?
Jiann-Jer Chen '68G, '73G, Applied Science, Thompson School

All freshmen in the Thompson School's forestry program were required to take algebra and trigonometry to better prepare us for surveying. Our professor was Dr. Jiann-Jer Chen, who knew the subject matter inside and out. His heavy Korean accent forced me to listen very carefully--if I let my attention lapse for a minute or two, I was lost. At the end of the semester, we said good-bye and he thanked us for working hard. He explained how much he had enjoyed teaching us and expressed his hope that we'd stop by and visit him. "Please don't expect me to remember your names. For one thing there's just so many of you, but the biggest reason is that you people all look the same." After almost 30 years, it still makes me smile.
—Jim M. O'Malley '80

Le Hockey? Un Sport de Femmes? Ridicule!
Louis Hudon, French

In 1974, we had put together a women's club ice hockey team, borrowing equipment from the men's team. We had practice at 6 a.m. Every day at 8 a.m., I had a French literature class with Louis Hudon. He was a diminutive, chain-smoking Canadian and I found him captivating. As there was no time to change between practice and class, I routinely showed up in sweats and my hockey jersey. He found the idea of women playing hockey quite ridiculous, but something must have piqued his interest, because one day around 7 a.m., I looked behind the goal and saw a swirl of smoke rising. Monsieur Hudon, with his black-framed glasses and beret, was watching us intently. Finally, he smiled.
—Laura Gieg Kell '77

Bee Therapy
J.R. Hepler, Horticulture

My roommates and I made the mistake of not studying the way we should have. We were seeking some easy "snap" course that could guarantee an A. One of us found a course called Bee Keeping. In the first lab, the professor, J.R. Hepler, led us out to the apiary and had us all stand close. He took off the cover of a beehive and with his bare hands gently scooped off a bunch of bees. He said to the first student, "Here, hold out your hands--you take them." We all started to laugh at this poor sap, who was really scared. The professor knew several of us were there seeking an easy A, so as this first guy was pulling back, he followed it up with, "Do you want to pass this course?" With that, the guy held out his hands and received the bunch of bees as we laughed even louder. But our laughter was short-lived. The professor added, "Each of you now hold out your hands and pass the bees along--and anyone who does not take the bees will fail this course." Needless to say, the bees were passed along!
—Will Payson '53

Fall Guy
Donald Perkins, Mathematics

Donald Perkins was short and always wore the same suit, summer or winter. One day in class he was sitting on the window sill and the window was open. He fell out the window, which fortunately was on the first floor, and when he came back in the classroom he was still lecturing.
—Allen Thornton '49

Illustration by Michael Witte, all rights reserved

Capital Appreciation
Ruth Woodruff, Economics

I took an elective course in economics with Professor Ruth Woodruff. I thought the course would be about corporations and business, but some of the things she taught us were the demand for steel and aluminum, and the wage level differences between union and nonunion workers. My dad worked in a steel mill, and I had worked at the mill for a year before enrolling at UNH. I told her how we worked rotating swing shifts, which she said was a prime example of the full employment of capital. She learned that my wife and baby and I were living at Forest Park, and she invited us to her home for tea. I switched my major to economics, and made Phi Beta Kappa. At the Phi Beta Kappa dinner, my mom, a factory worker from Providence, R.I., was frightened to death, but Professor Woodruff sat next to her. I am not sure what they talked about, but just the other day, my mom, now 90 years old, asked, "Do you remember Professor Woodruff?" My answer: "How could I forget?"
—Joseph Hight '65

Derailleured
Hans Heilbronner, History

I had Professor Hans Heilbronner for freshman history. I was pretty much scared to death of this austere, brilliant man. The class met at 8 a.m.; Professor Heilbronner was more than prompt and expected the same from his students. One morning it got to be 8:10 a.m. and no Professor Heilbronner. There was uncertainty about what to do. As 8:20 a.m. approached, the door opened and in came the professor, books and papers under his arm, ugly bloody scrape on his forehead, looking all over disheveled as he walked toward the lectern with a slight limp. There wasn't a sound or breath in the room--all eyes were upon him. "I fell off my bike," he said, smiling sheepishly. Everyone burst into laughter. Class was canceled.
—Sharon Hilton Tinkham '68

It is the East and Mrs. Hapgood is the Sun
Robert Hapgood, English

I was fortunate enough to take two classes with Professor Robert Hapgood. One of them was a course on Shakespeare, his area of expertise. We were reading "Romeo and Juliet," and I--in my not-so-infinite wisdom--commented that this was not a story of true love but of mere physical attraction. Romeo did not fall in love with Juliet; he simply saw her across a crowded room and thought she looked good. Professor Hapgood, with his usual sparkle in his eye, gently said that I might have a point. But, he added, "The first time I saw the future Mrs. Hapgood some 40 years ago, I knew she was the one."
—Michele Tracey Martin '91

For full-length versions of these stories, and for additional stories sent in by alumni, visit https://www.alumni.unh.edu/professors.

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