July 2005 Stories

“Nacho” Cordova

Finding balance and harmony in his daily life.

Scholar, visionary, advocate, father and soon to be ordained into a lay Buddhist order: Rhetoric Professor Nathaniel “Nacho” Cordova wears all of these hats and more. Meditation beads dangle around his wrist, and hanging down upon his chest is a necklace etched with the Chinese symbol for “harmony.”

“I’m a Libra,” Cordova says. “I never pay attention to horoscopes, but I like the Libra idea of a scale. You see, I have very Buddhist inclinations for balance, harmony and peace.”

Born and raised in Puerto Rico, Cordova has lived across cultures. He attended an American high school in Puerto Rico to hone his English language skills, and after graduation he moved to New York City, where his aunt was living at the time. By the age of 22, Cordova was a husband, father and the legal guardian of his younger sister, in addition to being at student at the University of Maryland. “My parents’ health was ailing,” Cordova says, “so first my sister came to the states and then my parents as well.”

After earning his bachelor’s degree in Spanish language and literature, specializing in translation, Cordova took on computing work to support his parents and family in the United States. He soon switched to the field of social services, managing care and brokering services for the Department of Human Development and the Area Agency on Aging in Fairfax, Va. Those jobs led to a position as project manager for the National Council of La Raza, the largest national constituency-based Hispanic organization and the leading voice in Washington, D.C., for the Hispanic community. Cordova coordinated student volunteers, staff training and transportation for elderly members of the Latino community.

“I definitely had clients who were in bad shape,” Cordova recalls of his advocacy work. “Some of my own died. It was very sad.”

And Cordova understands first-hand the struggles minority populations face. He shifted from Latino to American culture as a young man, and although he was equipped with sharp English language skills, he felt socially “hesitant.”

“I was concerned about fitting in with my thick accent,” Cordova says. “And I tried really hard to lose my accent, because I felt I needed to fit in – fit in, or else be marginalized.”

Upon moving to the United States, Cordova became acutely aware of differences between Latino and American upbringing. He sensed a definite separation between Americans and their families. Children were often in debt to their parents and expected their teachers to cater to them – “a consumer mentality and expectation, which, in Puerto Rico, would almost be offensive,” Cordova says. “Your parents provided for you because it was their duty. Never would a child owe his or her parents, or vice versa.”

Racism and prejudice were also issues Cordova could not afford to ignore. He experienced discrimination because of his accent and appearance, and he dealt with the consequences of racist attitudes toward his parents, who were retired, injured and, because of their obvious “Hispanicity,” denied housing. “You face a lot of racism and prejudice when you’re different,” Cordova says. “You realize it. You see it.”

But Cordova also notes that being “different” has its advantages. “It allows you to stop and look deeply,” he says. “To be mindful you must stop, contemplate and make sense of what is going on before acting. It also enables you to bring different perspective to issues, and you realize and respect deeply different worldviews.”

When Cordova chose to return to school for his master’s degree, he knew that he was making a major financial decision. He had made decent wages in both computing and social work and anticipated huge debt and less money to support his family if he attended graduate school. “But I thought back to what I’d wanted to do as a child,” Cordova recalls, “and that was to be a professor.”

And indeed a professor is what Cordova became. He earned his master’s and Ph.D. in communication studies at the University of Maryland, an education that provided him with new tools to understand how public discourse mediates and negotiates political access and participation in society. Much of Cordova’s research has focused on how discursive processes contribute to the development of public identities, personas or roles, which, in turn, shape the ways individuals and groups engage in civic and political action.

Cordova’s dissertation examined Puerto Rico from 1938 to 1940, as well as more broadly from the late 1800s to the 1940s. Since the beginning of U.S. occupation, Puerto Ricans had been deemed not ready for self-government. But between 1938 and 1940, Luis Munoz Marin of Puerto Rico’s Popular Democratic Party (PPD) led a victorious campaign that rallied a long-ignored peasant population. One particular strategy of the PPD was the use of political catecismo (catechism). Because catechisms seek disciples who will act in accordance with stipulated principles, Munoz was able to synthesize religious and political discourse. He bypassed the supposed illiteracy of peasant populations and appealed to them in a language that promised salvation.

“In essence, Munoz asked them (the people) to vote for the party as a means to achieve political salvation. He called them to fulfill their duty as good Christian men,” says Cordova, noting that the Munoz campaign is a striking example of how the intersection of religious and political discourse may be used in the construction and mobilization of constituencies. “I’ve always been interested in how we gain political power to rise above oppression and how we can be really effective in social movements. And I’m a humanist, so I’m very interested in how religious viewpoints expressed in language shape how people think and act.”

In fact, Cordova’s spirituality, scholarship and personal history are closely intertwined. A practitioner of Zen Buddhism, he stands to be ordained into the Order of Interbeing, an Oregon chapter of the Community of Mindful Living (CML).

The Order of Interbeing was formed in the mid-1960s by Thich Nhat Hanh and his colleagues, who believed that Buddha’s teachings were desperately needed to combat the hatred, violence and divisiveness that grew out of the Vietnam War. “The Community of Mindful Living is the DBA (doing business as) arm of the Unified Buddhist Church,” Cordova says. “In short, it is the representative of Thich Nhat Hanh’s Zen lineage in the U.S. The CML is a distinct organization from the Order of Interbeing (Tiep Hien), but both were founded and operate under Thich Nhat Hanh’s tradition.”

One value central to Thich Nhat Hanh’s tradition is impermanence. “I try to live in the present moment,” Cordova says, “but that is my practice. I try not to get too attached to agendas, but that does happen. We have to make plans and honor commitments. The key is figuring out how not to become attached.”

Not surprisingly, when asked about his future, Cordova quickly reiterates his focus on living in the moment. But he does say that he plans to keep learning, studying, teaching and caring for his family’s health. His most recent scholarly work explores “colonial memory” – that is, how the United States remembers its colonial relationship with Puerto Rico and how that collective memory is influenced by and diverges from Puerto Rican perspectives. “How we create shared representations of the past is important to understanding how we form political identities and enter political processes,” Cordova says.

At Willamette University, Cordova has contributed significantly to cultural life on campus. He is soft-spoken and gentle, sensitive to his students’ varied backgrounds. In addition to his tenure-track post in the Rhetoric Department, he is an adjunct professor for the Latin American Studies program and has been involved in the development of an ethnic studies program on campus.

In the realm of student life, Cordova has led guided meditation for the student organization Freaks and Geeks, and he is hoping to help students develop a mindfulness practice center on campus. “I’ve had wonderful opportunities that enrich me, experiences that give ferment to my thoughts and connect me to campus,” he says. “In all areas of life, I absolutely want to make the world a better place.”

Jim Friedrich

Unleashing the power of analysis.

I tell my students statistics is like fine wine and stinky cheese – it’s an acquired taste,” says Psychology Professor Jim Friedrich. “It grows on you over time and you start seeing that it has its own kind of elegance.”

Friedrich frequently employs such colorfully pungent analogies because his courses delve into the murky worlds of statistical analysis and scientific methodology – subjects notorious for swallowing students’ enthusiasm whole. The key to teaching technical material, says Friedrich, is knowing the right moment to use a little levity. “You can’t take yourself too seriously. You take the subject matter seriously, but you need to be able to relax a little bit with the material.”

Humor is not the only tool that makes Friedrich’s courses so palatable. He is also remarkably open with students about seeking input and course feedback. One third of the way through each semester, he hands out class evaluation forms and asks students to write about their impressions of the course and how they feel about their own class performance. “Early evaluations allow you to adjust the way you are teaching a course at a time when it can have a meaningful impact. I also think sometimes students care more about the fact that you asked them for input than they do about making any recommendations for the course.”

Friedrich feels that one of Willamette’s great strengths is the faculty’s finely tuned sense for balancing intellectual freedom and academic rigor. “What I like about Willamette is that there is a lot of support and encouragement of students to be autonomous and responsible. The faculty that I know here try very conscientiously to walk that line between having enough structure to encourage success, but not having so much that students become passive learners.”

Maintaining the right formula and pacing to keep his courses stimulating, Friedrich says, is one of the most challenging aspects of being a professor. That is why open communication with his students is such an important part of his teaching methodology. “I tell my students to live up to what Willamette bills itself to be and promises to you. I need to be held to the highest standard. If I am not providing a course that gives you more than you could get at some other school, then I am stealing your money.”

It would be very difficult to find a student who feels shortchanged by one of Friedrich’s classes. Of course, Friedrich notes, when you work at a place like Willamette, getting inspired to teach is the easiest part of his job. “This faculty has some of the highest morale I’ve ever seen. People feel appreciated and respected for their work. I think most faculty believe, and rightly so, that it’s a privilege to work here.”

While many of Friedrich’s students may never develop the same refined taste that he has for bell curves or regression analysis, they still find his courses to be a banquet of learning.

Wallace Long Jr.

Music professor says collaborative learning is the key to success.

Boxes of hand-bells hide the office floor, ready to be moved for the Christmas in Hudson concerts, as Professor Wallace Long Jr. finishes a friendly conversation about concert preparations with a student. Long, a firm believer in shared learning, often includes his students in planning and running activities for his choirs and classes.

A sense of equality and common purpose pervades the atmosphere of Willamette’s Music Department. The most notable difference between students and faculty often lies in their level of mastery. “I see this business of teaching music as if we are on the same continuum towards being fully functional musicians,” says Long. “I am simply further down the continuum than my students. My job is to get my students to pass me.”

To achieve this, Long utilizes collaborative teaching techniques. Long has created groups such as Chamber Choir Executive Council, which acts as a governing body for the group. “I hope that in my classes, there is the concept that we are working collaboratively to find the beauty in the music,” says Long.

Although he’s known for his intense rehearsals, Long says he “tries to be open to what students have to share.” The result of Long’s influence on the Choir Department is evident in the excellence of the performing groups. High standards and a professional atmosphere are catalysts for movement along Long’s continuum.

As a professional musician, Long has gained plenty of experience to share with his students. He’s been in such renowned groups as Male Ensemble Northwest, toured with the great Robert Shaw in France, and participated in the Oregon Bach Festival under Helmut Rilling. In addition, he’s made numerous appearances as a solo artist.

As an active performer, Long sets an example for his students to follow. And by employing his experience in a collaborative way with his students, Long not only motivates his students to improve but sets a precedent for respect and professionalism as well. “There is always a sense of decorum in what I do,” he says.

The other members of the music faculty also set high standards for themselves and their students, says Long. “I deal with the most wonderful, disciplined people,” Long says of his fellow instructors.

Ultimately, music students at Willamette have the best of both worlds: a professional environment and input into their education. Long’s desire for collaborative learning brings students and faculty together as they pursue their love of music.

The result? Perfect harmony.

Ellen McGehee ’04

Enchanted by the music of the mountains.

Quito, Ecuador, fills a narrow valley between volcanic mountain chains. The city is crazy, a place where a screeching, smelly city bus doesn’t slow for an old woman dressed in wrinkled stockings and a pleated skirt. While trying to orient herself in the Latin American milieu, Willamette graduate Ellen McGehee accidentally purchases ice cream instead of toothpaste and wanders the city in confusion, mumbling Spanish that locals cannot discern. She weaves through crowds, searching for an old blind street musician named Esteben, and is assaulted by wannabe trekking guides. At nighttime, she gazes out of her tent. “The Milky Way,” she says, “bathes the sky in white as phantom lightening flashes hang static on all horizons.”

The 2004 physics graduate is making the most of her Watson Fellowship, a $22,000 grant for independent study and travel outside the United States. She is following her passion, music, with a particular variety of music in mind. A talented violinist and outdoors enthusiast, McGehee is learning the music of mountain peoples, from the Andes to the Himalayas to China’s Liang Shan and Tien Shan ranges. In August 2004, her adventure began.

”One of the ideas behind the project was to investigate the manifestation of the mountains’ influence on a people’s music,” McGehee says. “Naturally, this means that the mountains have to have some significant influence on the people’s lives.”

The South American Explorers’ Club, a nonprofit organization that connects researchers with volunteer opportunities, helped McGehee find her way through Quito’s smog and make contact with other travelers. She encountered an Argentinian hippie couple who performed music therapy on the ill. She toured gold-covered churches and met the son of Ecuadorian painter Oswaldo Guayasamin, who invited her to stay at his pre-Columbian- inspired mansion and explore his library of books on indigenous cultures.

From Quito, McGehee headed for the mountains north of Peguche, where musicians taught her melodies on the violin. A man named Fausto, the type of guy who forgets to eat when he’s practicing or listening to music, invited McGehee to play violin with him and his family at the year’s final Inti Raymi fiesta in the nearby town of Cayambe. It is the biggest party of the year. Inti means “sun” in Quechua, the language of the region; the fiestas celebrate the solstice in June, which also coincides with a great harvest. The entire town fills the streets, along with people from neighboring areas who reside on llama farms. Dark-eyed inquisitive mestizos and other indigenous people wear full traditional dress. Everyone under 90 years old is drunk from the chica (corn wine).

”All the people are screaming, eating or selling food,” McGehee says. “Fausto’s family and I ran around with instruments, tramping in circles and playing traditional Cayambe tunes, which I learned to play by ear in the din of the fiestas.”

When the fiestas ended, McGehee traveled back to Quito and then to Salasaca, where she visited the home Alonso Pilla, the main informant to Willamette anthropology Professor Peter Wogan. “It turned out to be wonderful advice on Professor Wogan’s part, because Alonso immediately became really excited to hear I was “Pedro’s” (Peter’s) student. He opened up his home and his life in a way I’ve seen few people do.”

But in Ecuador, at the base of the Andes, agave (cactus) and maiz (corn) are planted in patches quilting the mountainsides. The wide valleys have been farmed for so many centuries that no one remembers the native trees. The air is thin, and the chilly nights bring a silvery wash of stars. But something is missing.

”I was looking for a place where you can never forget that you are in the mountains,” McGehee says. “I wanted to find a certain dramatic landscape of narrow valleys overshadowed by peaks, rushing icy streams and fickle weather - I’m sure this is purely a personal definition, but much of the Andes doesn’t fit it.”

Even though volcanic horizons marked the lives of Ecuadorians, McGehee didn’t see these mountain peaks dominate the lives of those who lived at their feet. One could easily forget, beneath mostly cloudy skies, one’s home was cradled by the Andes.

McGehee floated down the Amazon River from Ecuador to Peru with an eclectic group of friends. She observed jungle life to be very peaceful for the people of the Amazon rainforest, who, she says, “eat what they catch and watch the rain drip off the roof’s lush leaves. The lessons from the jungle seem to be patience, slow down and learn the rhythms of a place.”

The jungle appeared to breed magic. Blue cloudscapes blended with the even deeper hues of the sky. The air was a cool steam, thick and filling. “It looks like someone in a Dr. Suess book went overboard tinseling a Christmas tree,” McGehee says. It’s as if someone stringed tinsel until it became “an unrecognizable tangle of green macramé that whistles an off-key song about how alive it is.”

What McGehee was looking for - a place where the mountains had an obvious and constant effect on the communities within them - she found in Huaraz, Peru. The weather, the sunlight, the growing season and the temperature all influenced the local culture - and the culture, in turn, was expressed through the people’s music.

In Huaraz, brilliant white glaciers hung between spires of white rock. Clouds formed a veil over Huascaran’s Summit. Some towns were but spots in the shadows of magnificent peaks, receiving little sunshine. “The landscape was simply enchanting,” McGehee says. “And there was so much music in these mountains!”

McGehee spent her days chasing fiestas, dance competitions, old flute players and street musicians. And, when life in Latin America lulled, she went hiking or practiced quena, the traditional flute of the Andes. She met Alex, a pensive, self-tortured painter who could not pay enough attention to life to find any joy in it; Chris, the English juggler who never went home; and a collection of other wacky travelers and locals all drawn together by some kind of magnetism Huaraz holds.

The Indian women of Huaraz did business in mismatched, neon-colored skirts, leggings and blouses. Their outfits were finished off with crooked, colonial-period hats. They chattered in Quechua, a musical language peppered with little bursts of laughter. Amid this scene, McGehee reflected upon all the music she could not record her first three months in South America, of walking alone through the high valleys of the Cordilla Blanca, and of freezing nights when her teeth chattered like “dancing typewriters.”

Before she returns home to the United States in August 2005, McGehee says she will stop in Costa Rica, soak her feet in its midnight-black Caribbean sands, sip its fresh guanabana juice and dream in a hammock on one of its beaches. The warm ocean, rice and beans in coconut milk, and reggae music will become memories as she travels to other corners of the world - to China and beyond. And the liquid magic of the rainforest will forever temper her musical sensibilities, no matter where she finds or creates new melodies.

Story by Adrienne Davich ’05

Raúl Moreno ’03

Giving voice to news that flies under the radar.

It is summer 2004. The 9-11 Commission is about to release its final report, claiming that a “failure of imagination” across the U.S. government resulted in the terrorist hijackings that killed 2,752 Americans. In Washington, D.C., at the headquarters of National Public Radio (NPR), Willamette graduate and NPR intern Raúl Moreno is working as a production assistant for a radio news special, “The 9-11 Commission: An Audio Chronicle.”

”I gathered scores and scores of transcripts of the different witnesses that appeared before the commission,” Moreno recalls. He lists officials from the FBI and CIA, former counterterrorism advisor Richard Clarke, and then-National Security Advisor Condoleezza Rice as just a few of the voices he worked on. Then, after a moment’s pause, he remembers one more voice. “My favorite piece of tape came from President Bush talking with reporters in Ft. Hood, Texas, about a classified memo,” Moreno says. “I had to laugh because he was fighting to be heard over birds. I mean, these birds were really loud.”

Moreno, who graduated in 2003 with a major in rhetoric and media studies, is quick to point out that behind most news flashes, there are rich, intriguing and often quirky “back-stories” to learn. And the complexities and subtleties of news stories are precisely what Moreno is studying today as a second-year master’s student at Washington State University’s Edward R. Murrow School of Communication. His dream is to establish himself in a public radio news beat such as environmental reporting and, hopefully, pursue a career at NPR.

The dynamic, unpredictable nature of producing news has long exhilarated Moreno. Sometimes, he points out, laughing, even the most insignificant experiences can be thrilling. Near the end of the 9-11 Commission hearings, after getting another round of coffee for NPR staffers, Moreno was suddenly tasked with dragging aside former Deputy Attorney General and 9-11 Commissioner Jaime Gorelick for a phone interview. Plowing through a mob of anxious reporters, Moreno managed to usher Gorelick into a side room. Waiting back in the studio was NPR’s All Things Considered host Melissa Block, and their conversation made that evening’s program within minutes.

A native Washingtonian, Moreno grew up listening to NPR’s Morning Edition. When asked where his love of public radio stems from, he says “radio is much more honest than other mediums.”

If you put NPR alongside television news, Moreno thinks one can see just how much more sophisticated public radio news is. “It (public radio) has simplicity, but it’s not simplistic,” he says. “When you take away the visual picture, you have to be that much better at crafting a story.”

Moreno supposes that he first became interested in journalism in high school, when he wrote a report about news coverage of a plane crash in the Florida Everglades. At Willamette, he wrote opinion columns and news articles for the campus newspaper, The Collegian, a job that involved interviews with campus guest Desmond Tutu as well as African American studies scholar and prolific writer Dr. Manning Marable.

Willamette courses in creative nonfiction and rhetorical analysis further developed Moreno’s interest in resonant narratives - particularly their power in public radio. “We are all storytellers,” Moreno says. And in making his case for the unique qualities of radio journalism, he asks, “Who’s crafting the best stories out there?” He answers his own question with hardly a pause: “NPR is.”

Moreno is convinced that radio is the best profession - if not for everyone, at least for him. He’s neither tied down to a desk nor encumbered by cameras and bright lights. He enjoys a little bit of traveling and a good deal of writing, meeting interesting people and following stories that impact people’s everyday lives. “You connect with someone,” Moreno says, “and try to understand an issue from their perspective.”

Today, at Washington State, Moreno is writing his master’s thesis. It’s a narrative analysis of news coverage of the death of Army Sgt. Jacob Demand, a native of Palouse, Wash., who perished in the Iraq war. “I’m interested in how this story relates to nationalism,” Moreno says. “Perhaps stories like this help little-known communities feel nationally identified. I want to explore how Jacob Demand might have become emblematic for the people of Palouse.”

In summer 2005, Moreno will receive his master’s degree and, hopefully, be accepted to a fellowship program or entry-level position in public radio. He is currently a top-10 finalist for the prestigious Kroc Fellowship, a nine-month training program at NPR that concludes with a three-month-long position at a member station.

Whether or not Moreno wins the Kroc Fellowship, one thing seems certain: His love for radio journalism will continue to be personally and professionally rewarding. He has carved himself a unique niche in the broadcasting field and, with his passion for “not-so-hot-and-sexy news,” he may just become one of public radio’s finest correspondents.

”I want to turn complex, underreported issues like algae blooms or the glassification of nuclear waste into compelling narratives - radio stories that raise eyebrows and stop people in their tracks, what NPR calls a ‘driveway moment.’”

Oh yeah, Raúl says, one more thing: “Have you contributed to your local public radio station?”

Story by Adrienne Davich ’05

Tessa Platt ’01

Making service a practice.

As a middle school student, Tessa Platt traveled with her father from her home in Medford, Ore., to the steps of Salem’s Capitol building. They were there to lobby for a bill that would clarify the law surrounding the legality of window tinting, their family’s business.

For eight years, Platt watched her father’s struggle, a fight that involved a lawsuit against the State of Oregon and efforts that culminated in the passage of new legislation. Her observations of this process sparked her interest in law and started her on the path to Harvard Law School, where she is completing her third year of study.

“I saw the power law had to affect all individuals,” says Platt. “From then on, I wanted a career in law and public service.”

With her heart set on law school, Platt attended North Medford High School, where she was active in drama and debate. During the summer between her junior and senior year, she worked as a Congressional page in Washington, D.C. She fell in love with the city and the legal processes that took place there. “I knew then that I wanted to live and work in D.C. someday,” recalls Platt.

But Platt also knew that her family could not afford to send her to college. She would need scholarships, and so she set out to earn them.

After graduating as the valedictorian of North Medford High, Platt received financial aid to attend Willamette University, where she earned degrees in history and Russian. She became the first person in her family to graduate from a four-year college – and on top of that success, she was accepted to Harvard Law School and awarded a $19,000 Fulbright grant, a scholarship that funds recent graduates’ coursework and research abroad.

Harvard allowed Platt to defer her enrollment so she could travel to Moscow. There she researched the Russian perspective on Soviet and post-Soviet history and politics. The most interesting part of the experience, she says, was immersing herself in the Russian culture or “spirit,” as they call it in Moscow.

“I loved attending the Russian ballet and having the opportunity to study politics and history while I traveled,” says Platt. “And after my Fulbright, I fulfilled a lifelong dream of traveling around Europe for several weeks. I look forward to a return trip sometime soon!”

When Platt returned to the United States, she began law school at Harvard and took an active role in numerous student groups, including the Federalist Society, a vibrant conservative community. She has served as treasurer of the Law School Council, chair of the Student Funding Board, and senior editor of the Journal of Law and Public Policy.

Some of the issues Platt hopes to influence through her work in the public sector are the sanctity of marriage and the right to life. “I’m most interested in religious liberties and how they are protected by constitutional law and appellate litigation,” she says. “I want to continue working in these areas either through the government or by actively participating in pro bono projects.”

Upon graduating from Harvard in spring of 2006 and completing her clerkship, Platt plans to move to Washington, D.C., to either practice appellate litigation for a firm, secure a position with the Department of Justice or work in the Bush administration. Where these experiences might lead she isn’t sure, but one thing she says is certain: “I want to give back to the community with my legal career.”

Although Platt admits some people might find it cheesy, she often quotes Willamette’s motto. “I’ve always remembered ‘Not unto ourselves alone are we born,’” she says. “I don’t want to live in a bubble, and I’ve been very fortunate to get my education, so I have really made an effort to put Willamette’s motto into practice in my life.”

John Turner ’04

For this Oregon native, being politically correct means improving lives.

When John Turner arrived at Willamette University as a freshman, he quickly declared a major in chemistry. He didn’t envision pursuing a political career, nor did he imagine that, mere months after graduation, he would be chief of staff for Oregon state Rep. Peter Buckley, D-Ashland.

But the unimaginable came true for Turner. Today, he is Buckley’s chief political advisor. “As someone who has always been a strong believer in public service, politics has been the perfect outlet for me,” the 2004 graduate says.

There is no question that Turner has always been ambitious. At the start of his freshman year of college – despite his plans to one day be a doctor – he took the initiative to arrange an internship at the Oregon State Capitol, across the street from the Willamette campus. His work for Alan Bates, who was serving as the Democratic representative from Ashland at the time, turned out to be life changing. During his sophomore year, he changed his major to politics, a field that inspired and excited him.

As a junior, Turner took advantage of Willamette’s internship program and returned to the Capitol, this time to assist Bates in his second term. Shortly after Turner arrived on the job, Bates pulled him aside and asked him to “become an expert” on the Oregon Department of Human Services (DHS). At the time, the state was facing dramatic budget cuts, and the funding proposals put forth by DHS – the state agency charged with helping people become financially independent and healthy – had been thrust under a microscope.

Turner left Bates’ office in May 2003 with a wealth of knowledge and more determined than ever to work toward a public policy that provides decent and affordable health care to everyone.

Turner spent the summer following his junior year as a paid legislative assistant to state Rep. Betsy Johnson, D-Scappoose. After graduating from Willamette in 2004, he returned to his home in Ashland, Ore., where he was hired as field and finance director for Bates’ state Senate campaign. The campaign, Turner says, was full of energy. Bates, a Democrat, won 51.8 percent of the vote in a district where Republicans held a 2.5 percent registration advantage.

After the November election, Turner received a call from Buckley, who had taken Bates’ place in the House of Representatives. “He asked me to be his chief of staff on the recommendation of Alan Bates,” Turner says. “So I was really blessed with another great opportunity. Everything just fell into place.”

For Turner, life after graduation is only beginning. At 23 years old, the world is at his fingertips, and given his success so far, he has set high but reachable goals for the future.

”I’ve always wanted to be involved, to make a difference and try to make our community better,” Turner says modestly. When asked what personal experiences inspired his political ambitions, he isn’t sure how to answer, nor does he seem convinced that “ambitious” is the right word to describe him. After a moment’s thought, he quotes the late U.S. Sen. Paul Wellstone, a Minnesotan who was known, until his death in 2002, as the only progressive in the U.S. Senate. “Politics is about making people’s lives better,” quotes Turner, noting that this belief is why he has chosen politics for his life’s work.

”On both sides of the aisle, people are working to improve others’ lives,” Turner says. “Of course, both sides have different ideas on how to do that, but that’s what’s so exciting about being at the Capitol.”

Turner says the Politics Department at Willamette gave him the intellectual tools he needed to put his ideas into action in a real, substantial way. “I received a great education on the background, development and history of policy-making,” he says, “and I really gained an understanding of how to draft a piece of legislation that accomplishes what you want it to.”

But why go to school at Willamette instead of somewhere else? Turner points to the location of the Capitol and the opportunities that its close proximity makes possible. “That link,” he says, “enables so many learning experiences, both inside and outside of the classroom.”

Turner was raised in Ashland, an area of the country known for its effervescent waters, rolling hills and velvety forestland, and he names environmental and land use policy as a top priority – not just for the state, but on a global level. He offers California’s Great Central Valley as one example of unchecked development, recalling the last time he drove through the region and looked in shock at prime agricultural land overtaken by suburban development.

Global warming is also on Turner’s mind. Like many scientists and environmental advocacy groups around the world, he is alarmed that the increasingly imminent threat of climate change is not reflected in American environmental policy. Moreover, he believes that “everyone has the right to clean air and clean water.” Currently, he says, “not everyone enjoys that.”

Turner’s future plans include pursuing a master’s degree in public policy. He hopes graduate study will give him the edge he needs to advance a progressive agenda that fosters a healthy nation, a clean environment, responsible land use and cost-effective, enriching public education. This vision for the country he conveys like a seasoned politician. Still, when asked if he will run for elected office someday, he laughs. “I think,” he says, smiling, “it’s too soon to tell.”

Story by Adrienne Davich ’05

B.J. Wright ’03

When asked whether he began his freshman year at Willamette with Ivy League ambitions, 2003 chemistry graduate B.J. Wright promptly answers no. But what he did bring to Willamette was an interest in research science, which has culminated in a 2005 National Science Foundation Graduate Research Fellowship.

The award will provide him with about $27,000 annually for the next three years to support his graduate studies in chemistry at Columbia University. “And I’m doing the same thing as I did at Willamette,” says Wright, “only now I get to focus more. I realized how little I knew when I first got to Columbia, but I also realized how lucky I was to have the kind of mentor I had at Willamette. I got real, hands-on experience with a truly knowledgeable professional.”

Wright’s interest in research science was first cultivated during his junior year at McNary High School in Salem, Ore. “I took my first research science course, so I thought I’d pursue biology in college,” he says. “Chemistry was not the original plan, but it’s very challenging and very exciting.”

Although Wright intended to pursue science in college, he admittedly didn’t know much about Willamette. Still, he says, “it was one of only two schools I applied to.” At the time, he’d been living in Salem for a little more than a year. He’d moved several times before, so staying in one place was something he desired.

Wright’s high school swim coach had encouraged him to attend Willamette, knowing he’d have the opportunity to compete in swimming at the NCAA Division III level. Not only did Wright swim at Willamette for four years during which he took home a conference championship in the 50-yd. freestyle, but also he distinguished himself as president of Sigma Chi fraternity and as a top scholar.

“I chose to do chemistry because I found it most challenging,” says Wright, “but I should say it was also largely because of my experience with Jeff Willemsen.”

Willamette chemistry Professor Jeff Willemsen, referred to by his students as “Dr. J,” was both a mentor and a friend to Wright. Under Willemsen’s guidance, Wright participated in a synthetic organic chemistry project that involved collaborating with chemists at Oregon State University. Further research he conducted with Willemsen earned him a Presidential Award, a full-tuition scholarship for the first semester of his senior year at Willamette; the research worked toward the total synthesis of kalkitoxin, a potent sodium channel blocker. This particular experience fueled his desire to do similar research in graduate school.

“I’m not quite sure what I’ll do when I finish,” says Wright, who is completing his second year of a five-year-long Ph.D. program. “I came in thinking I’d want to teach, but now I’m not totally sure. For now, I’m just having a really great experience with chemistry…and New York City!”

Richard Ellis: Exploring the American Psyche

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America…”

Many of us grew up as youngsters automatically reciting those words every day at school. For Richard Ellis, Willamette’s Mark O. Hatfield Professor of Politics, the fact that the most individualistic nation on earth would insist that its school children pledge allegiance to the state was a paradox he couldn’t resist investigating. The result is To the Flag: The Unlikely History of the Pledge of Allegiance (University of Kansas Press, 2005), the first book to examine the historical and social significance of the country’s Pledge of Allegiance.

“In a democracy that sees itself as the freest country in the world, it’s odd to have a daily or weekly pledge of allegiance,” says Ellis, who recently discussed to the flag with Terry Gross on “Fresh Air,” one of National Public Radio’s most popular programs. [ listen to the story at NPR ] “Until 1943, the state could require school children to say the Pledge of Allegiance. Into the 1960’s and 1970’s, even after a landmark Supreme Court ruling in 1943 giving children the right not to say the Pledge, teachers were fired and kids were expelled for refusing to say or stand for the Pledge. Even today, you read about teachers who require children to stand for the Pledge of Allegiance, even though they have a legal right not to stand.”

Working with student research assistants, most notably politics major Alexis Walker ‘06, Ellis combed libraries and studied old documents and newspaper articles for clues about the Pledge’s origins and its cultural implications. Written in 1892 to coincide with the opening of the World’s Fair in Chicago and to celebrate the 400th anniversary of the discovery of America by Christopher Columbus, the Pledge was born of an ambitious effort to celebrate public schools across America. The celebration was the brain child of James Upham, who ran the promotion and sales department at the Youth’s Companion, one of the largest national family magazines of the time.

“The World’s Fair and the celebration of Columbus’ discovery of America were focused on the nation’s technological wonders and material progress,” explains Ellis. “Upham wanted to remind Americans of the ideals and patriotism that had made America great. Upham’s idea was to teach the nation a patriotic lesson by having every school in the nation raise the flag over the schoolhouse in an elaborate program that would include a salute to the flag.”

This was no small feat since at the time most schools didn’t display the flag, or even possess a flag. Since Upham already had a full-time job promoting the Youth’s Companion, he handed the task of coordinating this celebration to Francis Bellamy, who had recently resigned his post as pastor of Boston’s Bethany Baptist Church. Bellamy was given the responsibility of pulling together the patriotic program that was to be followed by every public school. Bellamy wrote the Pledge of Allegiance to accompany the flag raising.

To understand the significance of the Pledge of Allegiance, says Ellis, you have to understand the social and cultural anxieties and concerns of the early 1890s. “The Pledge speaks to the American values of liberty and justice for all, which resonates with people to this day. But it also speaks to American anxieties about inadequate patriotism and newcomers.”

Upham and Bellamy were worried that Americans were no longer as patriotic as the Civil War generation had been. “They were concerned that people were too preoccupied with industrialization and making money. They wanted to revive the idea of sacrifice and altruism.”

The other anxiety that led to the Pledge had decidedly racist undertones. Immigrants at this time were increasingly coming not from western and northern Europe but from eastern and southern Europe. They were no longer Protestants; they were Catholics and Jews. “Native born Protestants like Upham and Bellamy were afraid these new immigrants would undermine the Republic.”

The Pledge is still an accurate barometer of our national anxieties. A paradox of the Pledge is that those who are most anxious about American identity are often those who are most insistent that we need to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. “The more anxious we’re feeling about our national identity, the more attention we pay to the Pledge. When there’s a national crisis, there’s a flurry of interest in having people say the Pledge.”

Ellis points to the rise in pro-Pledge legislation following the 9/11 attack. “States that didn’t have a Pledge law decided they needed one; states that had a weekly Pledge requirement decided they needed a daily one. Many cities and states also added a Pledge requirement for legislatures and city councils, including Salem’s own city council.”

Ellis suggests that the Pledge also expresses a belief that America is God’s chosen nation, particularly after “under God” was added in 1954 to distinguish Americans from atheistic communists. “The idea that Americans are a chosen people; that we have a special place and mission in the world, goes back to the Puritans. Ronald Reagan called America the ‘shining city on the hill.’”

This concept shapes not only our view of ourselves, but also how we view the rest of the world. “It carries with it the sense that the rest of the world is dark and darkness always threatens to envelop the light. If the [American] light goes out, the world goes dark. So the stakes are extremely high for those who believe, like our current president, that America is the beacon of freedom for the world. If we fail, the world fails.”

While some would simply see this as national pride, Ellis says it also represents our anxiety as a nation. “There’s tremendous anxiety because the stakes of losing, of failing the world are so high. I think that’s what drives the Pledge of Allegiance today – pride in the country, but also anxiety that the weight of the world is on us and we might not be able to fulfill our mission.”

To the Flag: the Unlikely History of the Pledge of Allegiance was funded by grants from the National Endowment for the Humanities and the Oregon Council for the Humanities. It is available at major bookstores, online at Amazon.com and at The Willamette Store.