College of Arts and Sciences

Family shares courtroom and campus legacy

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 01 Aug 2025 20:06:32 +0000

Family shares courtroom and campus legacy Rachel Sauer Fri, 08/01/2025 - 14:06

Cody DeBos

Father and daughter Donald and Maureen McGinnis both pursued ��ƷSM��ӰƬ educations and then careers in the law

When Judge Maureen McGinnis (PolSci ’00) steps into the courtroom, she carries more than a robe and gavel with her. Several decades of family legacy and lessons in reputation, integrity and the power of doing the right thing have brought Maureen where she is today.

But her journey to the bench didn’t begin in law school. It started at the dinner table during conversations with her father, Donald McGinnis (A&S ’69), a respected Michigan attorney who built his own career on relationships and the strength of his word.

Don and Maureen McGinnis at a legal event, one of many they have attended together.

“I’ve always looked up to my dad,” Maureen says. “Getting an opportunity to grow up in a family where you have a parent that’s a lawyer, you get sort of immersed in that.”

Maureen’s immersion led her to follow in her father’s footsteps to ��ƷSM��ӰƬ, where Donald first fell in love with the idea of carving his own path in life.

“It’s been a great ride for me from back in Boulder all the way until now,” Donald says.

CU roots of the family tree

For Donald, ��ƷSM��ӰƬ was a natural fit. His parents were avid skiers, and he’d grown up making trips out west. When it came time to choose a college, there was little question where he would go.

“It was definitely going to be CU without question,” he says. “I think it was the only place I applied.”

His daughter didn’t need much convincing, either. Long before she would set foot on campus, she had already envisioned her future as a CU Buffalo and a lawyer.

“I was the seventh grader wearing the University of Colorado sweatshirt and telling everybody I was going to go to law school. I don’t think I ever wavered from that,” she recalls.

What began with an interest in skiing in the 1960s has since evolved into a lifelong connection to a place that would shape the beginning of both their careers. For Donald, the legacy is deeply personal.

“Obviously, my legacy is my daughter attending CU, which is a very proud one. She also chose to join my profession and then excelled so well at it. I couldn’t be prouder,” he says.

A shared journey in the courtroom

Despite knowing she wanted a career in law, Maureen says she didn’t know what her path would look like. Long before she wore a judge’s robe, she walked into her first job as a lawyer and found herself working alongside her dad.

“I don’t think I had a huge plan for exactly what I was going to do once I became a lawyer,” she says. “But the door was open. As soon as I started working with my dad, there was nothing to figure out. I wasn’t going to leave.”

Donald McGinnis built his family law practice from the ground up, never working for another firm, never having a boss. Running his own practice has helped him understand more than most the value of connection in a field that can be harsh and impersonal.

Don McGinnis (left) moves for Maureen McGinnis' (right, back to camera) admission to the State Bar of Michigan to practice law.

“I would always like to be remembered as the handshake lawyer. If I tell you something and shake hands on it, I don’t need to have 18 emails and five letters,” he says. “That’s the way I would like to be remembered—as a lawyer’s lawyer.”

During her time working at her father’s law practice, Maureen absorbed plenty of legal strategy, but his passion for reputation also bled through.

“People will talk about how you treat them, how you honor your word. … I remember that being really constant in our discussions about the practice of law,” she says.

Working with her dad gave Maureen a head start, but most of all showed her that law could be more than a job. It would soon turn into a lifelong calling shaped by values passed down through the generations.

Carrying the legacy forward

After more than a decade of practicing as a lawyer, Maureen felt pulled toward something more. She wanted a way to serve not just individual clients but her entire community.

“I’ve always had a passion for community service and engagement. So, getting to have the role I have now pretty much marries both of those things,” she says.

The role she speaks humbly of is presiding judge at the 52-4 District Court in Troy, Michigan, where Maureen weighs her opinion on cases that impact everyday lives.

She was elected to the bench in 2014, but the decision to run had been quietly planted years earlier in conversations with her father.

Maureen McGinnis (center) celebrates with her parents after graduating law school and passing the bar exam.

“He sort of has this habit of putting something in your head, and if we talk about it enough, it’s like it helps you visualize it—even when it’s something that isn’t really on the horizon,” she says.

Housing disputes, traffic violations and local criminal offenses are just a few of the cases now crossing Maureen’s desk every day. She says it isn’t glamorous work, but it directly shapes her community, and for Maureen, that is exactly the point.

“She sets an example that other lawyers and I commend her for. It makes it easier for the litigating parties when you have a smart judge and smart lawyers,” Donald says.

Reflections on CU and the legacy they’re still writing

Looking back, both Maureen and Donald agree their time at ��ƷSM��ӰƬ influenced more than just their resumes. For Donald, college was a time of discovery and independence. After decades of legal work, he looks back on his time in Boulder as uniquely freeing.

“I took it way too serious,” he laughs. “College is probably the only four-year period of time that you have in your life where you don’t really have a lot of responsibility. You should enjoy it with great vigor, in my opinion.”

Maureen, always focused on the next step, says she sometimes wishes she’d taken more of those opportunities—like studying abroad in Australia. But she’s never questioned the choice to attend CU. In fact, she’s already planning to pass that connection on to her kids.

“If you have an ability to start a legacy in that way, it’s amazing. I feel like having those shared memories about places and things that we experienced at CU keeps my dad and I very close. It’s something you can never take away.”

Don McGinnis on the campaign trail when Maureen McGinnis ran for district court judge.

Maureen McGinnis (first row, right) at her investiture when she was seated as a judge.

Don McGinnis when he returned to Boulder to help his daughter, Maureen, move into Farrand Hall.

Maureen McGinnis (center) with friends while she was an undergraduate student at ��ƷSM��ӰƬ.

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Father and daughter Donald and Maureen McGinnis both pursued ��ƷSM��ӰƬ educations and then careers in the law.

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All photos courtesy Maureen McGinnis

The ‘happy haunting’ found in letting words lead

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 24 Jul 2025 13:30:00 +0000

The ‘happy haunting’ found in letting words lead Rachel Sauer Thu, 07/24/2025 - 07:30

Cody DeBos

For poet Stephanie Couey, the inspiration for her new chapbook began with a walk

Some poems begin with grand ideas. Others start with a walk.

For Stephanie Couey, an assistant teaching professor in the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ’s Program for Writing and Rhetoric, inspiration often strikes when her feet are moving. The rhythm comes first, and meaning follows.

For Stephanie Couey, an assistant teaching professor in the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ Program for Writing and Rhetoric, writing inspiration often strikes when her feet are moving.

“Some cluster of words that feels good or rhythmic or perhaps gross in a good way comes to mind,” she says. “I’ll record it in my phone, and everything else usually unfolds outward from there.”

That’s how many of the poems in her latest chapbook, “Quiet Pulse,” began. Fragments of sound or texture unearthed through movement and slowly shaped into verse according to their natural rhythms.

Feeling the language

Rather than starting with a theme in mind, Couey trusts her internal response to language—how syllables feel in the mouth and rhythms pulse on the page—to guide the outcome. Couey’s is a deeply embodied approach to writing that treats poetry not just as a literary act, but also as a physical one.

“I approach the writing process as rooted in the body, which it is,” she says. “I write focused mainly on sound, but I’ll almost inevitably see narrative threads emerge in the process.”

This sensory foundation creates space for emotion, memory and meaning to filter in organically.

“I never set out to write a poem about, for instance, gendered violence, late-stage capitalism or the endangerment and loss of arctic wildlife. But if it’s whirring around in my mind, it will likely come through.”

As Couey penned the poems that would eventually become “Quiet Pulse,” she started to notice they shared textures, recurring images and a certain emotional tenor.

“I don’t know that there’s an originating story or idea in particular,” she says. “But as the writing of these poems happened, I started to see something that a grouping of them was doing that felt related.”

“The title is intended to reflect some of those threads,” Couey notes, “a state of being near death, of being underwater, and/or having the body be silenced—all of which are states the speaker of the poems inhabits throughout the project.”

No shortcuts

Despite their spontaneous beginnings, Couey’s poems are far from effortless.

“They all took a long time to shape, but some came out in draft-form much faster than others,” she admits. “I think it’s like running or any kind of exercise. Some days you are just faster or more efficient, even if you prepared in all the same ways. I wish I knew what made the difference!”

Her willingness to move at the poem’s pace, rather than forcing her own deadline or structure upon it, mirrors her approach to teaching.

“Hopefully these poems create an experience of both beauty and abjection that lingers. A kind of happy haunting,” says Stephanie Couey.

In the classroom, Couey encourages students to pay attention to what their writing is already doing rather than make it conform to a formula.

“When student writers put any amount of effort into their work, they are almost always doing something worthwhile, and I want them to see that and focus on that, then figure out how to move outward from there,” she says.

The same ethos guides her as a poet.

“I try to treat my own poems in the same way, asking: What is the work on the page already trying to do, and how do I make it do that thing more effectively?”

Couey and her students also share a practice that’s become one of her favorite parts of the writing process: embodied journaling. The exercise encourages students to write freely and regularly, without self-editing or judgment, while tuning in to their bodies and surroundings.

“They often speak to the value of writing unself-consciously and engaging with their bodies, their breath and their surroundings,” Couey says, “and of slowing down and truly processing their thoughts and emotions.”

This sentiment, which frequently appears in students’ end-of-semester reflections, reminds Couey to keep her own notebook handy to scribble a thought at the bus stop or capture a mid-walk rhythm before it slips away.

Happy haunting

When “Quiet Pulse” found a home with Dancing Girl Press, Couey was thrilled. Now that her chapbook has been published, she hopes readers walk away from it with a lasting impression, if not a fully definable one.

“Hopefully these poems create an experience of both beauty and abjection that lingers. A kind of happy haunting,” she says.

While poetry remains a core part of her creative practice, Couey is also working on a long-gestating essay project about grief, suicide and the ways stories take shape around loss. She isn’t in a rush to finish. Like her poetry, the project will take the time it needs.

For now, whether she’s drafting verse or guiding students through journaling, Couey will continue to let the writing lead.

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For poet Stephanie Couey, the inspiration for her new chapbook began with a walk.

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Couples reimagining Jewish wedding ceremony

Rachel Sauer — Wed, 02 Jul 2025 17:40:41 +0000

Couples reimagining Jewish wedding ceremony Rachel Sauer Wed, 07/02/2025 - 11:40

Samira Mehta

From the marriage contract to breaking the glass under the chuppah, many Jewish couples adapt their weddings to celebrate gender equality

Traditional Jewish weddings share one key aspect with traditional Christian weddings. Historically, the ceremony was essentially a transfer of property: A woman went from being the responsibility of her father to being the responsibility of her husband.

That may not be the first thing Americans associate with weddings today, but it lives on in rituals and vows. Think, in a traditional Christian wedding, of a bride promising “to obey” her husband, or being “given away” by her father after he walks her down the aisle.

Samira Mehta is director of the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ Program in Jewish Studies and an associate professor of women and gender studies.

Feminism has changed some aspects of the Christian wedding. More egalitarian or feminist couples, for example, might have the bride be “given away” by both her parents, or have both the bride and groom escorted in by parents. Others skip the “giving” altogether. Queer couples, too, have reimagined the wedding ceremony.

During research for my book “Beyond Chrismukkah,” about Christian-Jewish interfaith families, many interviewees wound up talking about their weddings and the rituals that they selected or innovated for the day to reflect their cultural background. Some of them had also designed their ceremonies to reflect feminism and marriage equality—something that the interfaith weddings had in common with many weddings where both members of the couple were Jewish.

These values have transformed many Jewish couples’ weddings, just as they have transformed the Christian wedding. Some Jewish couples make many changes, while some make none. And like every faith, Judaism has lots of internal diversity—not all traditional Jewish weddings look the same.

Contracts and covenants

Perhaps one of the most important places where feminism and marriage equality have reshaped traditions is in the “ketubah,” or Jewish marriage contract.

A traditional ketubah is a simple legal document in Hebrew or Aramaic, a related ancient language. Two witnesses sign the agreement, which states that the groom has acquired the bride. However, the ketubah is also sometimes framed as a tool to protect women. The document stipulates the husband’s responsibility to provide for his wife and confirms what he should pay her in case of divorce. Traditional ketubot—the plural of ketubah—did not discuss love, God or intentions for the marriage.

Contemporary ketubot in more liberal branches of Judaism, whether between opposite- or same-sex couples, are usually much more egalitarian documents that reflect the home and the marriage that the couple want to create. Sometimes the couple adapt the Aramaic text; others keep the Aramaic and pair it with a text in the language they speak every day, describing their intentions for their marriage.

Rather than being simple, printed documents, contemporary ketubot are often beautiful pieces of art, made to hang in a place of prominence in the newlyweds’ home. Sometimes the art makes references to traditional Jewish symbols, such as a pomegranate for fertility and love. Other times, the artist works with the couple to personalize their decorations with images and symbols that are meaningful to them.

Contemporary couples will often also use their ketubah to address an inherent tension in Jewish marriage. Jewish law gives men much more freedom to divorce than it gives women. Because women cannot generally initiate divorce, they can end up as “agunot,” which literally means “chained”: women whose husbands have refused to grant them a religious divorce. Even if the couple have been divorced in secular court, an “agunah” cannot, according to Jewish law, remarry in a religious ceremony.

Contemporary ketubot will sometimes make a note that, while the couple hope to remain married until death, if the marriage deteriorates, the husband agrees to grant a divorce if certain conditions are met. This prevents women from being held hostage in unhappy marriages.

Key changes in Jewish weddings represent how the wedding ceremony itself has become more egalitarian in response to both feminism and marriage equality, notes ��ƷSM��ӰƬ scholar Samira Mehta.

Other couples eschew the ketubah altogether in favor of a new type of document called a “brit ahuvim,” or covenant of lovers. These documents are egalitarian agreements between couples. The brit ahuvim was developed by Rachel Adler, a feminist rabbi with a deep knowledge of Jewish law, and is grounded in ancient Jewish laws for business partnerships between equals. That said, many Jews, including some feminists, do not see the brit ahuvim as equal in status to a ketubah.

Building together

Beyond the ketubah, there are any number of other changes that couples make to symbolize their hopes for an egalitarian marriage.

Jewish ceremonies often take place under a canopy called the chuppah, which symbolizes the home that the couple create together. In a traditional Jewish wedding, the bride circles the groom three or seven times before entering the chuppah. This represents both her protection of their home and that the groom is now her priority.

Many couples today omit this custom, because they feel it makes the bride subservient to the groom. Others keep the circling but reinterpret it: In circling the groom, the bride actively creates their home, an act of empowerment. Other egalitarian couples, regardless of their genders, share the act of circling: Each spouse circles three times, and then the pair circle once together.

In traditional Jewish weddings, like in traditional Christian weddings, the groom gives his bride a ring to symbolize his commitment to her—and perhaps to mark her as a married woman. Many contemporary Jewish couples exchange two rings: both partners offering a gift to mark their marriage and presenting a symbol of their union to the world. While some see this shift as an adaptation to American culture, realistically, the dual-ring ceremony is a relatively new development in both American Christian and American Jewish marriage ceremonies.

Finally, Jewish weddings traditionally end when the groom stomps on and breaks a glass, and the entire crowd yells “Mazel tov” to congratulate them. People debate the symbolism of the broken glass. Some say that it reminds us that life contains both joy and sorrow, or that it is a reminder of a foundational crisis in Jewish history: the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem in 70 C.E. Others say that it is a reminder that life is fragile, or that marriage, unlike the glass, is an unbreakable covenant.

Regardless of what it means, some contemporary couples both step on glasses, or have one partner place their foot on top of the other’s so that the newlyweds can break the glass together. The couple symbolize their commitment to equality – and both get to do a fun wedding custom.

There are many other innovations in contemporary Jewish weddings that have much less to do with feminism and egalitarianism, such as personalized wedding canopies or wedding programs. But these key changes represent how the wedding ceremony itself has become more egalitarian in response to both feminism and marriage equality.

Samira Mehta is director of the Program in Jewish Studies and an associate professor of women and gender studies at the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

From the marriage contract to breaking the glass under the chuppah, many Jewish couples adapt their weddings to celebrate gender equality.

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College of Arts and Sciences and Office of Registrar win award for efficiency improvements

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 23 Jun 2025 17:27:57 +0000

College of Arts and Sciences and Office of Registrar win award for efficiency improvements Rachel Sauer Mon, 06/23/2025 - 11:27

Award was one of five given by the CU Office of University Controller for demonstrating a commitment to streamlining operations

A collaboration between the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ College of Arts and Sciences (A&S) and the Office of the Registrar to automate the major/minor declaration process has won an Office of University Controller 2025 CU Innovation & Efficiency Award and a $1,000 prize.

By partnering with the Office of the Registrar, A&S was able to automate and streamline the process by which students update their majors/minors, eliminating paper forms and manual data entry, according to A&S representatives, who said the end result was improved student communication and increased staff productivity.

In place of paper forms, the new process includes an online OnBase form for A&S undergraduate students to declare an A&S minor, and a robot to automate and record changes, associated academic advisor assignments and student notification upon the completion of the request. As a result, A&S representatives said this process requires significantly less manual work to ready the spreadsheet for the robot system. Also, the OnBase form allows for immediate notification to the student when the change has been made and automatically saves the request form to the student’s electronic dean’s file.

“I’m extremely proud to be part of a team dedicated to innovation and student success. The A&S Academic Operations team motto is ‘Student Success is Our Success,’ and the development of the change-of-major robot allowed us to deliver on that by improving service for students and staff, as well as streamlining processes. Winning this award is truly an honor, as there were many other incredible submissions,” said Megan Stephenson, director of academic operations and student records for A&S.

“This award means the world to me, especially considering the large amount of other deserving projects that were submitted. Our nomination alone recognizes that our dedication to improving processes is not only noticed but modeled across campus. I am constantly grateful and thankful to work with this winning team,” added Donna O’Neill-Mika, A&S operations technician in the dean’s office.

Representatives said this process improvement is notable in part because A&S is the largest college on the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ campus and is responsible for processing upwards of 6,600 student-initiated academic-record update requests per year in Campus Solutions.

The Innovation & Efficiency Award was one of five total awards given out by the Office of University Controller, which said each one “demonstrates a powerful commitment to streamlining operations, enhancing service and delivering measurable impact.” For more information on other award winners, click on this weblink.

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Award was one of five given by the CU Office of University Controller for demonstrating a commitment to streamlining operations.

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Protesters taking freedom of assembly to the streets

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 12 Jun 2025 22:15:23 +0000

Protesters taking freedom of assembly to the streets Rachel Sauer Thu, 06/12/2025 - 16:15

Rachel Sauer

��ƷSM��ӰƬ conflict scholar Michael English explains why public protests matter and what they can mean in the current political and social moment

One of the most storied protests in U.S. history happened Dec. 16, 1773, when a group of Massachusetts colonists, angry with British tax policy, dressed in Indigenous garb, boarded British East India Company ships anchored in Boston Harbor and dumped 342 chests of tea into the water—the infamous Boston Tea Party.

In response, however, British authorities did not amend tax policies but instead closed the harbor.

“If you look at the way we talk about the Boston Tea Party, here’s this event that we don’t generally describe as starting a revolution from violence,” says Michael English, director of the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ Peace, Conflict and Security Program. “We start with people dressing up and doing this mass protest where they destroy some business owner’s property, which is something we’ve historically tended not to support.

��ƷSM��ӰƬ scholar Michael English, director of the Peace, Conflict and Security Program, is a specialist in conflict analysis and resolution.

“Then, in the 1780s, we get Shay’s Rebellion, where poor debtor farmers come into Boston to try to preserve what’s left of their farms, and the state raises a militia to put down this protest. Throughout our history, things bubble up and then there’s this backlash. It’s just an interesting quirk of this country that we embrace protest and hate protest.”

That central tension of public protest has been above the fold this week as federal troops have been called in to respond to Los Angeles protests over ICE raids and as No Kings protests are planned in cities across the country Saturday.

What does it mean when people gather to protest—a right enshrined in the First Amendment? English recently considered this and other questions in a conversation with Colorado Arts and Sciences Magazine.

Question: Do public protests matter or make a difference?

English: A protest is something that, at least from a scholarly perspective, is there to send a message to people in power. As someone sympathetic to protest as a great American tradition, I have to say yes, protest matters. What does it do? That’s a more open question. In some sense, it can start us thinking about whether protest itself is the goal, or whether we want it to lead to something more.

Take the No Kings protests—is the goal to get President Trump to change a specific policy? It doesn’t appear to be so, and that’s not how protest organizers are framing it. Instead, it seems to be, ‘We want to bring a whole lot of people out to express that we are very unhappy about the direction of our country and what appears, to people sympathetic to the protests, as this power consolidation within the executive (branch).’ If millions and millions participate Saturday and we have protests on the scale of Black Lives Matter or Occupy Wall Street or protests against the war in Iraq—if they are able to bring those people out—did this protest do what it set out to do?

If that happens, I think we could answer yes. If they bring a lot of people out and the protests stay nonviolent and not a whole lot of negative things are associated with them, then we can begin to explore whether this is part of something larger, or whether it is this just a one-off thing that sent a message?

Question: Has what’s happening in Los Angeles, with federal troops called in to respond to public protest over ICE raids, brought a new layer to current protest?

English: These are new times, yes, but in some ways, there are parallels in the past. The National Guard has been called out at different points—in fact, Gavin Newsom did invoke the National Guard during Black Lives Matter protests, which is not even that far in the past. What’s happening now in Los Angeles does raise really interesting questions. When you look at movements in the past and look at the military being deployed, it’s usually been in service of the movement—school desegregation or Johnson enforcing the Voting Rights Act. These were actions in favor of the movement. Then there’s everything after, which has been the National Guard being sent out to quell unrest.

California National Guard members and protesters in Los Angeles in June 2025. (Photo: U.S. Northern Command)

In Los Angeles, there wasn’t actually a lot of unrest until you started bringing more and more force in, whether that’s more police, then the National Guard, then threat of the Marines. That’s a real thing we should worry about, because it does create a mirroring tension where people may escalate because they feel that those on the other side of them are prepared for confrontation.

Question: Is nonviolence still central to public protest in the United States?

English: I would say yes, there still seems to be a fairly significant commitment to nonviolence. But the further we get away from the civil rights framing of nonviolent protest, the harder it is for people to understand what that means and what goes into it. We’ve seen that the discipline between people participating in these events now seems to break down a little quicker, and there isn’t the same build-up over time of participants receiving training to participate (in nonviolent protest). There are some really interesting videos of James Lawson getting civil rights protestors ready for the freedom rides, and the training was they basically beat you up to make sure you wouldn’t respond. If you couldn’t do that, you weren’t going to get sent into that situation.

I think for the most part people are still committed to nonviolence as a strategy to bring social change, but in the same breath I can say that there’s always been a kind of violent contingent associated with protests in the past.

It’s easy to assume, when we look backwards, that we can tell a rosy story of civil rights movement, but we would be missing episodes that weren’t so friendly. If you look at Black Lives Matter protests, 95% of those protests were nonviolent, but the ones that get our attention are always the ones where violence occurs, and that’s just how movements work. Organizers of movements can certainly intervene, and you see that in the No Kings messaging, this attempt to say, ‘We need to police this; these are strategies for helping people who seem disruptive or are not at the same level of discipline.’ It gets back to the question of whether everyone who’s participating in a protest is on the same page and, if not, is public protest the best strategic choice for the movement?

Question: How have social media affected or changed how public protest happens?

English: It’s a real mixed bag at the moment. On the one hand, I watched the Arab Spring protests on my computer at work—I watched the protests in Tahrir Square and watched these folks engage across Facebook at the time—and that was super powerful, I’ll never forget that. And social media played an important role in the movement because young people knew how to use it and it gave them an advantage against regimes that, at the time, did not understand and just wanted to dismiss it outright. I would say the same thing about Occupy Wall Street and the first generation of Black Lives Matter when we were protesting the deaths of Trayvon Martin and Mike Brown. Social media was really powerful there.

"A protest is something that, at least from a scholarly perspective, is there to send a message to people in power," says ��ƷSM��ӰƬ conflict researcher Michael English. (Photo: Pexels)

But then we see this shift past 2016, where social media starts to feel super performative to people. I have students tell me that in one sense it’s great because they learn about things they didn’t know were going on, but on the other hand, yeah, you could post a picture or a video but didn’t really have to do anything about it. So that’s one critique, that it makes movements seem performative and like something people are just doing for an afternoon for social clout.

Now that we know so much of social media is being scraped by authorities to identify who people are and all of this kind of network tracing, it puts people who participate in movements in real danger if they’re careless with their social media. You’re making a record of something that who knows how it’s going to be used in future. It's certainly going to change how movements go forward, so it’s good that we’re having these conversations now when there’s real concern among people over whether they can participate—whether they feel they can participate—knowing somebody could scan your movements and identify you as having been there.

Question: How do you respond to the argument that protest doesn’t accomplish anything and change only happens by running for public office and creating policy?

English: I would say it depends on what the point of the movement is. With some movements or protests, depending on how the message is being put out there, the end goal may be that we’re showing our discontent now, with the idea that we’re going to support certain people running for political office or pressure legislators on a particular policy. But this can get complicated when the routine methods of forcing political change don’t seem like they’re working or seem really far off. I mean, the mid-terms are more than a year and a half away; how much impact does protest this weekend have for political office in a year and a half?

So, I come back to the idea of protest as building that collective solidarity, letting people know there are others who are upset and there is strength in numbers. Then I wonder what happens when we do find that redline issue that really upsets people. I think right now we’re still waiting for a redline issue—the thing this or any president wants to do that a majority of American people don’t support and don’t want.

The amazing thing about studying social movements is the speed at which they can escalate is really unpredictable and can be really intense. If you look at Black Lives Matter, for instance, that pushed a ton of young people to become interested and run for office. So, it could be the case that people leave this protest (Saturday) and they’re like, ‘I really want to make a difference and really want to ensure there’s a different kind of political majority in office come the next election cycle.’

Where it gets tricky is if nobody is pushing that message, or if the message is that there’s no way change can happen through the existing political system, then people might dig into cynicism and say it all just needs to collapse. We do need that central conflict because conflict is good, conflict is normal; we just don’t want the violence. Violence is where we have something that’s clearly gone wrong. But people coming out and expressing that they’re angry and upset? That’s what we want in a democratic society.

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��ƷSM��ӰƬ conflict scholar Michael English explains why public protests matter and what they can mean in the current political and social moment.

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Alum’s resumé: veterinarian, reality TV star, stand-up comic

Rachel Sauer — Mon, 09 Jun 2025 17:15:10 +0000

Alum’s resumé: veterinarian, reality TV star, stand-up comic Rachel Sauer Mon, 06/09/2025 - 11:15

Bradley Worrell

As he muses about conservation, 1970s Boulder and how Keith Richards prompted him to finish his college career, Kevin Fitzgerald still has his sights on crafting the perfect joke

Did you hear the one about the veterinarian who is also a stand-up comedian?

It’s no joke.

It’s the very real-life story of ��ƷSM��ӰƬ alum Kevin Fitzgerald, who is a staple of the Denver comedy scene and who has opened for such nationally recognized acts as Joan Rivers, George Lopez, Jeff Foxworthy and Saturday Night Live alums Kevin Nealon and Norm Macdonald.

��ƷSM��ӰƬ alumnus Kevin Fitzgerald (right) with the late Norm Macdonald (left), for whom Fitzgerald opened. (Photo: Kevin Fitzgerald)

Meanwhile, Fitzgerald has spent the past four decades working as a Denver veterinarian who specializes in treating exotic animals and has become something of a celebrity as one of the featured vets on Animal Planet’s popular TV series “Emergency Vets.”

Fitzgerald is also a wildlife conservationist—and with the recent publication of his autobiography It Started with a Turtle—he adds “published author” to his growing list of job titles.

The Denver native enjoys talking about his experiences as a comedian and a veterinarian, but most of all he enjoys reminiscing about his time at ��ƷSM��ӰƬ, where he earned his undergraduate, master’s and PhD degrees. He says the lessons he learned in the classrooms—and in the local music venues where he worked security—shaped him into the man he is today.

“Boulder is a magical place,” he says. “Boulder has a different feel than other college towns—and the campus is absolutely beautiful. I first visited when I was in high school and I decided then and there that it was the place for me.”

Raised in a working class home, Fitzgerald says receiving a scholarship for being on the swim team made it possible for him to be able to attend college starting in 1969.

For his undergraduate degree, Fitzgerald majored in biology, and he credits biology Professor Dick Jones; Professor Hobart Smith, then chairman of the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology; Professor David Chiszar, who was an internationally renowned herpetologist known for his work with rattlesnakes; and history Professor Charles “Chuck” Middleton, whom Fitzgerald says made history come alive, with being mentors.

“Even back then, ��ƷSM��ӰƬ was known as a party school, but if you wanted to, you could get a great education there,” he says. “They didn’t so much teach you as inspire you. I had wonderful mentors who wanted me to succeed.”

Fitzgerald says his initial plan upon entering college was to get his bachelor’s degree from ��ƷSM��ӰƬ and then attend Colorado State University to receive a veterinary degree. However, there was a waiting list to get into the CSU veterinarian program at the time, so Fitzgerald says Jones convinced him to continue pursuing his education at ��ƷSM��ӰƬ by obtaining his master’s and PhD degrees, which he did.

“I’m still reaping the benefits of that wonderful education every day,” he says.

Working security for a hamburger and $1.35 an hour

To earn extra money for school, not long after arriving on the Boulder campus Fitzgerald took a job working for Chuck Morris (the future CEO/president of national concert promoter AEG Live), who hosted concerts at local music venues including Tulagi and The Sink.

“There were so many great venues in Boulder at the time,” Fitzgerald recalls. “There was Tulagi, the Blue Note, The Olympic, Shannon’s, the Good Earth and J.J. McCabes. The music venues were legendary—and they hosted a lot of great bands before they became famous. Not just rock bands, but soul bands and country bands, so there was something for everyone. There was just so much great music.”

Kevin Fitzgerald has been a staple of the Denver comedy scene for many years. (Photo: Kevin Fitzgerald)

Fitzgerald’s job working as a bouncer for local music venues led to jobs working security for concert promoters Bill Graham and Barry Fey, who produced nationwide shows featuring musical acts including The Grateful Dead, Willie Nelson, The Eagles, The Who, Jethro Tull and The Rolling Stones.

Years later, Fitzgerald still recalls Fey’s simple job pitch: “I’m going to pay you a buck-thirty-five an hour and give you a hamburger every shift and you’re going to meet more girls than Frank Sinatra.”

Fitzgerald says he has many fond memories of those times and particularly of the bands who performed—especially The Rolling Stones, who he says never forgot their roots and gave selflessly for some special fans.

“Back in the day, before handicapped seating was widely made available, people in wheelchairs didn’t get good seats at concerts and they were stigmatized by making them all sit together. It was awful,” he recalls. “So, before every show The Rolling Stones did, Mick Jagger would ask me: ‘How many (handicapped) chairs are there, and in which section, Kevin?’

“‘I’d say, ‘23 chairs and they’re in section three.’

“Jagger would grab 23 cassette tapes and 23 concert T-shirts. He’d put a towel over his head or put a hoodie up and he’d personally go to the wheelchair section and hand out a cassette tape and a T-shirt to each person. He’d say, ‘Thanks a million for coming; we couldn’t do it without you,’” Fitzgerald recalls. “He didn’t do it as a photo op; he specifically kept himself covered up so the rest of the concertgoers wouldn’t know what he was up to.

“People can say whatever they want about The Rolling Stones, about Mick Jagger and Keith Richards, but they didn’t forget where they came from,” he adds. “And Mick would always say, ‘We’re blessed. You know, Kevin, we can’t forget how lucky we are.’ That really made an impression on me.”

What’s more, Fitzgerald credits Richards with prompting him to go back to college to get his veterinary degree.

“I remember we were in Philadelphia for a show, with more tour dates coming up, and I was unsure what I should be doing with my life. I was talking about it with my boss, Jimmy Callahan, who was the head bouncer, and he said, ‘Why don’t you ask Keith?’

“I knew Keith, so I asked him: ‘Should I stick with you guys, or should I go back to school?’

“And Keith said, ‘Oh, no, go back to school. Do you really want to be a bouncer at (age) 50?’

“When Keith Richards says something, he’s the coolest cat in the world. So, I got on a plane and I came back to Denver,” Fitzgerald says. “My brother picked me up at the airport, and I said, ‘Keith told me to get a grip on my life and go back to school.’ And my brother said, ‘Well, when Keith says something, you better do it.’ So, I applied to veterinarian school again and I got in.”

Becoming a vet … and a reality TV star

Kevin Fitzgerald has been a veterinarian in Denver for the past four decades and is one of the featured vets on Animal Planet’s popular TV series “Emergency Vets.” (Photo: Kevin Fitzgerald)

Fitzgerald obtained his degree in veterinarian medicine from CSU in 1983. He later took a job with the Alameda East Veterinary Hospital in Denver, where he has been working for the past 40 years.

“Veterinary medicine is a harsh mistress. It asks a lot of us (vets), but it’s very rewarding,” he says. “It’s been a wonderful career for me. To be successful, you have to love animals, but you also have to love people.

“Sometimes people would tell me, ‘My daughter would be a great veterinarian. She hates people but she’s great with animals.’ And I would always say, ‘No, no, no. People have to trust you when they bring their animal to you, so it’s important that you are able to connect with them.’”

Fitzgerald’s role at the Denver animal hospital became much more widely recognized starting in 1998, with the launch of the Animal Planet’s TV show Emergency Vets. At the time, the TV series ER was hugely popular, and the producer believed a reality show about veterinarians treating all types of animals would appeal to Animal Planet viewers, Fitzgerald says. That proved to be the case, as the show and its successor, E-Vet Interns, ran for a combined 11 seasons, and were two of the network’s top-rated shows.

“For me, it was just too weird to watch myself on TV, but it was quite an experience,” Fitzgerald says. “People started recognizing me from the show. Once, I was at the Denver airport and this young kid was staring at me. Finally, he said, ‘You look like that guy from the TV show on Animal Planet.’

“I said, ‘I am that guy,’ and the kid says, ‘Yeah, you wish,’” Fitzgerald says with a laugh.

He says his work as a veterinarian led naturally to his conservancy work. He has served on the Denver Zoo’s board of directors since 2009 and has been involved in several projects, including the creation of a huge nature conservancy in Mongolia.

“There’s 10 million other forms of life on this planet besides us, and we were given this wonderful biodiversity. Those animals are waiting for us to use our intellect to save this place,” he says. “We’re borrowing this planet from our grandchildren, so we have to win this one, because we’re given just this one planet. Realizing that, that’s how I went from veterinary medicine to conservation.”

‘Like being shot out of canon’

While being a veterinarian, an Animal Planet reality TV star and conservationist might seem to all naturally fit together, Fitzgerald acknowledges becoming a stand-up comedian is a less obvious choice to add to the mix. He says he was inspired to do so in part by watching comedians perform as the opening act for bands where he provided security and by seeing one of his friends perform.

“I started doing stand-up in 1986. At the time, a friend of mine was doing comedy, and he didn’t seem that funny to me, but he was getting paid to do it. I told myself, ‘I can at least be as bad as that guy,’” he says with a laugh.

The appeal for doing stand-up comes partly from the enjoyment of making people laugh and partly from the exhilaration of being on a stage, Fitzgerald says, explaining, “The feeling is like being shot out of a cannon.”

It took some trial and error in the beginning, Fitzgerald admits, before he developed his own comedic timing. The strategy he settled on involved trying to tell as many jokes as he could in rapid-fire succession at the start and telling jokes that would appeal to the broadest audience demographic.

“My job is to tell jokes that make everyone laugh—the old guy and the young guy, the black guy and the white guy, the man and the woman sitting next to him,” he says. “I don’t think it works to say, ‘This is a young person’s joke; you wouldn’t understand.’ The best jokes touch everyone.”

Fitzgerald’s brand of comedy was on full display during a recent Sunday evening show at a south Denver comedy club, where he was zinging his audience with one-liners about being an old guy:

“Our lives are short, but they are beautiful. My whole life, whatever I’ve done, has been small and beautiful. The fate of the Western world doesn’t hang on the balance of what I do in the exam rooms with people and their animals, but I try to make my little side of the street better as a veterinarian and also with my conservation efforts.”

“I’m so old my kindergarten had a smoking section.”
“I’m so old I can remember Preparation A.”
“I’m so old that I can run for president in a few years.”

Bathed under white stage lights, Fitzgerald’s flowing white hair gave credence to his position as a veteran of standup comedy, but those jokes about his age (he’s 73) were just a warm-up to a set that ran more than an hour long, and which also included several humorous stories about being a veterinarian and a reality TV star and concluded with a reading from his new book talking about the importance of being kind to animals and people.

Sharing life lessons in print

Fitzgerald says he’s accumulated so many stories and bits of wisdom over the years that he wanted to share with people in a book, but he says that his active veterinary practice and many civic and social commitments made that difficult to do. That changed, however, once COVID-19 pandemic brought much of the world to a yearlong standstill.

“It seemed like the perfect time to get my thoughts down on paper,” he says, adding, “We only have so many days, so we have to make them count.

“Our lives are short, but they are beautiful. My whole life, whatever I’ve done, has been small and beautiful. The fate of the Western world doesn’t hang on the balance of what I do in the exam rooms with people and their animals, but I try to make my little side of the street better as a veterinarian and also with my conservation efforts.

“And I’m not done yet,” he adds. “I still think I’m going to write the perfect joke. I’m 73 and I’m still going to see my pet patients every workday. I can’t bounce anymore, but I still love listening to music.”

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As he muses about conservation, 1970s Boulder and how Keith Richards prompted him to finish his college career, Kevin Fitzgerald still has his sights on crafting the perfect joke.

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When passion flares, a freedom and duty to speak

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 29 May 2025 21:07:13 +0000

When passion flares, a freedom and duty to speak Rachel Sauer Thu, 05/29/2025 - 15:07

Clint Talbott

The pursuit and sharing of knowledge should be shielded from the brute force of public opinion, and when public pressure spikes, history shows, the choices of individual people really matter

Like a metronome, Albert A. Bartlett ticked off a steady beat of bad news, methodically outlining the truth and consequences of exponential human population growth. Then, he noted that the methods to reduce population are generally undesirable: for instance, pandemic, famine, war.

Rhetorically, Bartlett asked the classroom full of young people, “Who wants more war?”

A testosterone-addled boy sitting nearby roared: “War! Yeah!”

Clint Talbott is assistant dean for communications in the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ College of Arts and Sciences and a former journalist.

Unfazed, Bartlett replied:

“Anyone who cheers for war has never lived through one.”

Having thus silenced the would-be warrior, Bartlett continued to explain the exponential function and its implications for humankind.

This was 1979, and I didn’t immediately grasp the symbolism of this brief exchange. It encapsulated core functions of academe—the pursuit and sharing of knowledge, careful and critical thinking, respectful and open debate.

Truth, logic and debate would become the foundation of my career, first in journalism, then as a communicator for the university.

But as a high-school sophomore from Montrose, Colorado, my perspective was constrained; I was just a kid on a recruiting tour of the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ. I met professors, toured facilities and spent a few days at CU because, unusually, I’d gotten decent grades in Algebra II.

A so-so student at the age of 17, I had no intention of going to college, let alone the state’s top university. I planned to attend vo-tech school and become an auto mechanic. Two things stood in my way: One, I was a bad mechanic, and two, I took a journalism course as a high-school senior and was immediately hooked.

It was compelling—intoxicating, really—to set up shop in the marketplace of ideas. Learning, discussing and debating ideas made them, and me, come alive. I was part of something bigger than myself. Work had Meaning.

Over time, I saw the extent to which public discourse was refined and distilled in academe. Discussions that occurred nationally also happened on campus, but often in more concentrated, more rigorous, sometimes more contentious forms.

Speech on matters of critical public concern should be “robust, uninhibited and wide-open,” former U.S. Supreme Court Justice William Brennan famously wrote. Discourse can reach peak vibrancy on campus, partly because of universities’ commitment to free speech and academic freedom.

Intellectual vigor is one reason, perhaps, that academe has long drawn criticism. By design, it protects unpopular ideas and unwelcome lines of inquiry. Why? Because the pursuit of knowledge should be shielded from the brutish whimsy of public opinion.

History teaches us this. Galileo committed heresy by reporting what was empirically true and what is now utterly uncontroversial.

Professor Bartlett campaigned for population control for decades. He gave the talk I observed more than 1,742 times before he died in 2013. It’s been viewed on YouTube more than 5.2 million times.

The late Professor Al Bartlett, who worked on the Manhattan Project as a young scientist, used his scientific acumen to pursue growth control both globally and locally.

Bartlett, who worked on the Manhattan Project as a young scientist, used his scientific acumen to pursue growth control both globally and locally. In Boulder, for instance, he spearheaded the “blue line” initiative, which prevented the city from delivering treated water above about 5,750 in elevation in the foothills. Without water, real-estate development shrivels.

Today, Bartlett’s legacy is, literally, easy to see.

“Albert Bartlett’s influence is unmistakable in the foothills surrounding Boulder. With few exceptions, one sees trees, grasses and rock,” the Daily Camera wrote in 2006 as it gave him a lifetime-achievement award.

Advocating for population control—and controlled growth generally—can be controversial. But as a university professor, he had wide latitude to take such positions. The Boulder Valley and society at large are the better for full academic freedom and freedom of speech.

Critics have long argued otherwise. Again and again, higher education generally, and the University of Colorado in particular, have attracted strong public criticism and furtive government scrutiny. Some such episodes seem relevant today.

The feds are watching, and so are the people

The late Howard Higman, who was a professor of sociology and founder of the CU Conference on World Affairs, hit the FBI’s radar—and later Time magazine’s—in 1960.

In the middle of a sociology lecture at CU, “the most conspicuous member of the class,” Marilyn Van Derbur, then 22, Miss America of 1958, asked Higman to comment on Masters of Deceit, a book by J. Edgar Hoover, the longtime director of the FBI.

Time characterized the episode this way: “The professor obliged by launching into a denunciation of the FBI, and for two days, embattled factions of the 190-student class, led by Marilyn and the professor, argued the reputation of the FBI. Proving Marilyn’s point that the FBI is always on the spot, Author Hoover sent Marilyn an autographed copy of Masters of Deceit with the message: ‘Your actions in confronting error with truth are in keeping with the highest traditions of academic freedom.’”

Higman said, “I smelled a plot coming, but it is not my habit to duck questions.” The Van Derbur report became one of many that the FBI carefully recorded in its thick file on Higman.

The late Howard Higman, a ��ƷSM��ӰƬ professor of sociology and founder of the CU Conference on World Affairs, hit the FBI’s radar—and later Time magazine’s—in 1960.

That file was publicly revealed via the U.S. Freedom of Information Act (FOIA), which helps to ensure that people can see how the government spends public money conducting the people’s business.

It so happens that one key architect of FOIA was Samuel J. Archibald, a CU alumnus who served as chief of staff of the Government Information Subcommittee in the U.S. House of Representatives. Archibald led the investigation of government secrecy that paved the way to the passage of FOIA in 1966. And, in a later chapter of his life, Archibald was my journalism professor at ��ƷSM��ӰƬ.

FOIA and its state counterpart, the Colorado Open Records Act (CORA), help us understand, more accurately and fully, what happened during key junctures of our history. In the Higman case, federal law enforcement spent decades monitoring a professor who was suspected of no crime.

This happened repeatedly. Folsom Field is named after a once-famous CU football coach, Frederick Folsom. His son, the late Franklin Folsom, a CU alumnus and longtime Boulder resident, was executive secretary to the League of American Writers from 1937 through 1942.

That job, and his activism for peace, drew the interest of the FBI, which recorded that several anonymous informants said Franklin Folsom was known by aliases. Those allegations were false. Secret informants also reported that his wife, Mary Elting, spent years working in a job she never held.

As Franklin Folsom noted in a 1981 Denver Post guest opinion, the FBI did get his home address and phone number right. “How much this information cost the taxpayer, no one will ever know,” he wrote.

Similarly, there was Kenneth E. Boulding, who was a distinguished professor of economics at CU. The 1993 New York Times obituary marking Boulding’s death called him a “much honored but unorthodox economist, philosopher and poet.”

As the Times noted, his textbook Economic Analysis “blended Keynesian and neoclassical economic theory into a coherent synthesis.”

But Boulding was also against war. He was, after all, a Quaker. His advocacy for peace drew the attention of the FBI, as one of my FOIA requests revealed. Starting in 1942, the government launched an investigation of Boulding. The files on him noted, for instance, that Boulding complained about “the downtrodden Negro and constantly protested that he should have equal rights with the whites.”

The FBI also noted that Boulding once advocated for the elimination of the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC). In no case did the activities of Higman, Folsom or Boulding amount to “subversion,” much less a crime.

In these cases, warrantless (and unconstitutional) spying seemed not to have hindered the subjects’ lives. But national panic and illegal spying on citizens can and does harm people. As we have seen.

The late Kenneth E. Boulding, a distinguished professor of economics at ��ƷSM��ӰƬ, was described in his 1993 New York Times obituary as a “much honored but unorthodox economist, philosopher and poet.”

Red scare

On Dec. 28, 1950, The Denver Post’s banner headline was “CU Prof Reveals Red Link.” The story reported that David Hawkins, CU philosophy professor, had been called to testify before HUAC.

Hawkins admitted that he had joined the Communist Party as a 25-year-old graduate student in California in 1938 but that he’d resigned and stopped paying dues in 1943. Some historians speculate that HUAC summoned Hawkins in an attempt to tie J. Robert Oppenheimer, who led the Manhattan Project, to communism.

The Post’s editorial board argued that CU must determine Hawkins’ loyalty to “American stands of life and to the American ideal of free and honest education.”

State legislators, including Boulder Rep. A.W. Hewett, proposed legislation that would have cut off Communists from any source of state money. As a centennial history of CU noted, Hewett claimed there were “all shades of Reds” at the university.

Colorado’s attorney general ruled that professors should be forced to sign a loyalty oath that was originally enacted in 1921, during an earlier red scare. Eager to quell the rising public concern and possibly to discourage state lawmakers from doing the same, the CU Board of Regents launched an investigation of Communist or otherwise “subversive” influences on campus.

The regents hired two former FBI agents to conduct the investigation. Their report and its recommendations were kept secret—so secret that the report itself was stored in a safe deposit box in the First National Bank of Boulder, and a regent could review the report only upon a majority vote of the board.

After the former FBI men completed their secret probe, the regents voted to retain Hawkins, stating that his actions (which were protected by the First Amendment) were not a firing offense.

But the university did fire Irving Goodman, an assistant professor of chemistry who won Guggenheim fellowships in 1949 and 1950. The regents said Goodman had been a Communist during part of his service at the university and that Goodman had lied about this.

Goodman called those charges “calumny” and said he’d honestly answered all questions about his politics when CU President Robert Stearns quizzed him in 1947.

It wasn’t divulged, at that time, whether the regents’ secret investigation found more damning material.

Similarly, philosophy instructor Morris Judd was fired in late 1951. The stated reason was incompetence and “pedestrian” teaching.

At the time, Judd revealed that he’d been interviewed by the former FBI agents. They asked him if he were a member of the communist party. He said he was not. They asked if he’d ever been a member. He declined to answer, as was his First Amendment right.

Once fired, Judd left academe, never to teach again.

The late CU philosophy instructor Morris Judd (right) declined to answer, per his First Amendment right, when asked by FBI agents if he'd ever been a member of the communist party.

Opening the safe deposit box

But questions remained, even in 2002, when I was working as a columnist for the Boulder Daily Camera. Paul Levitt, a professor of English, was a CU student during the McCarthy era and suggested that I file a Colorado Open Records Act request for the report.

I did this. The university declined to release the report, arguing that it contained legal advice and private information. To its credit, the Camera sued for the report’s release.

In an initial court hearing, the Boulder County judge who was reviewing the secret report said that if it indeed contained legal advice, it was subtle. The judge, who seemed skeptical of the university’s arguments, said she’d issue a ruling within a week.

Before the judge ruled, however, the regents voted to release the report in full. After 51 years, the report finally revealed that Judd was not, in fact, fired for incompetence; he was fired because he was merely suspected—with no compelling evidence—of being “subversive.”

The allegations were insubstantial. One unnamed source told the private investigators that Judd was “90 percent or better a probable Communist” in 1946. Another anonymous accuser said he was “of the opinion” that a “subversive” group had met at Judd’s Boulder home in 1947.

None of this proved that Judd was (or had been) a Communist. Nor did it yield any meaningful data on Judd’s fitness to teach philosophy. The only empirical measure of Judd’s abilities—the assessment of his fellow faculty members—found him more than fit to teach. In fact, his colleagues judged him the best young teacher in his department.

Politics can circumscribe academic freedom. Stearns himself revealed this in a now-declassified interview conducted at the Pentagon in 1954 (released via my FOIA request). Stearns admitted that he had fired “leftist or pinkish” faculty members, including Judd.

Stearns also told the Pentagon official that he’d kept tabs on the alleged subversives after their firing: “My connections … have always been close with the military and with the FBI, particularly, and I have kept them informed on each of these men, so they know well what they are doing and where they have gone,” Stearns said.

The late David Hawkins, a CU philosophy professor, was called to testify before the House Un-American Activities Committee in 1950 and admitted that he had joined the Communist Party as a 25-year-old graduate student in California in 1938 but that he’d resigned and stopped paying dues in 1943.

That is a startling admission. If we take his words at face value, it’s hard to fathom why Stearns did not fire tenured professors against whom there was stronger evidence of Communist Party affiliation. Instead, he targeted non-tenured instructors whom he might have seen as expendable.

As some have suggested, that might have been a stratagem designed to protect core faculty members from rabidly red-baiting lawmakers. Stearns might have believed he’d chosen the lesser of two evils, sacrificing non-tenured faculty to protect those with tenure.

All of that was moot to Goodman and Judd, who sustained permanent damage. Goodman later reported falling into poverty. Judd’s experience was similar.

“I suffered the loss of my academic career. This investigation was a horrendous violation not only of my rights, but of the tradition of academic freedom,” Judd said when the university honored him in 2002, adding:

“That secret and unwarranted procedure has been compounded by the years of secrecy in withholding the report from the public.”

The red scare episode was both a crucible and a parable. When the fuller account of what happened emerged in 2002, people debated how to reconcile this newly released information—firing faculty without due cause or process—with the ideals they held dear.

Some said the university made the right choice, arguing that making a public show of firing two junior faculty surely prevented the state Legislature from launching an investigation that could have unjustly destroyed even more careers. Such an investigation had, indeed, been threatened.

Others argued that contemporary observers can’t fully appreciate the pressures of 1951. One authoritative voice emphasizing that point was Albert Bartlett, who made a lasting—and positive—impression on me in 1979.

As public records from the university, the FBI, the Pentagon and other agencies provided compelling evidence that Judd, Goodman and others were sacrificed for the sake of a perceived greater good, English Professor Paul Levitt and others urged that the university rename the Stearns Award, the university’s highest faculty award.

Like Levitt, Bartlett was on campus during the red scare, which he called “one of the very dark periods in American history and the history of the University of Colorado.”

But Bartlett argued against stripping the Stearns name from the faculty award. Writing in the Camera in 2002, Bartlett recalled that one of his first letters to the editor of that newspaper concerned Sen. Joseph McCarthy, pointing out that “a specific allegation made by McCarthy was known by me to be a lie.”

“After the letter was published, someone counseled me about such writing,” Bartlett recalled. “I was untenured and uncertain, but the message was clear. So I turned my back to tend to my own business.”

Bartlett pointed out that in 1951, faculty groups did not condemn the firings of junior faculty members. Some professors, including Jacob Van Ek, then dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, did object. But many were silent. Most turned their backs, tending to their own business.

As Bartlett noted, if the “faculty governance bodies of 50 years ago failed to stop these tragic firings, then the faculty of 2002 can apologize for failing to speak out against the injustice” in 1951.

And again, Bartlett faced a contentious moment with cool reason, verifiable facts and respectful debate. In so doing, he offered a lesson that we must heed:

In times of national hysteria, when reason fails and madness prevails, good citizens are obliged to stand and speak.

Clint Talbott is a 1985 journalism graduate of ��ƷSM��ӰƬ. He spent 14 years working at the now-defunct Colorado Daily and 10 years at the Daily Camera and was a 1998 Pulitzer Prize finalist for editorial writing. He has worked for the College of Arts and Sciences since 2008.

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The pursuit and sharing of knowledge should be shielded from the brute force of public opinion, and when public pressure spikes, history shows, the choices of individual people really matter.

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College finance chief wins prestigious fellowship

Rachel Sauer — Thu, 22 May 2025 15:08:06 +0000

College finance chief wins prestigious fellowship Rachel Sauer Thu, 05/22/2025 - 09:08

Amy Lavens, the College of Arts and Sciences’ vice dean of finance and administration, is one of 17 professionals to win this recognition

Amy Lavens, vice dean of finance and administration for the College of Arts and Sciences at the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ, is one of 17 business and financial professionals named as fellows of the National Association of College and University Business Officers (NACUBO), the group has announced.

NACUBO’s immersive leadership development program prepares higher education professionals who are seeking a chief business officer (CBO) position in their next role, the organization said.

Amy Lavens, vice dean of finance and administration for the College of Arts and Sciences at ��ƷSM��ӰƬ, has been named a fellow of the National Association of College and University Business Officers.

Over the course of a year, NACUBO fellows will work with higher education presidents, provosts, CBOs and other experts as they expand their management, communications and leadership skills and strengthen the core competencies needed to succeed as senior leaders.

The 2025-26 fellows were selected from the largest applicant pool in the program’s history, and the incoming cohort is one of the largest since the program was founded in 2016.

"We are thrilled to welcome the 10th cohort of NACUBO’s prestigious Fellows Program—a milestone made even more meaningful because this group was selected from one of the most competitive applicant pools in our program’s history,” said Kara D. Freeman, NACUBO president and CEO, adding:

“These new fellows’ talent, diverse experiences and passion for higher education reflect the best of the future of college and university business administration and leadership. We look forward to supporting these and all our fellows’ continued growth and impact.”

At the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ College of Arts and Sciences, Lavens oversees financial strategy, budget planning and finance operations for the largest academic unit on campus. Before joining higher education, Lavens led financial and operational strategies in diverse environments, including clinical research, start-ups, manufacturing and a successful initial public offering. This background allows her to challenge conventional approaches, promoting creative and pragmatic solutions that marry financial stewardship with an institution’s overarching mission.

Her successes are built on the foundation of listening and learning, being authentic and translating complex concepts into clear, accessible language. She prioritizes transparency and avoids jargon that obscures meaning, fostering trust and collaboration, NABUCO noted.

Lavens holds an executive MBA and a bachelor of science in biochemistry from Colorado State University.

NACUBO’s fellows program is one in a suite of professional development programs aimed at preparing the next generation of chief business officers. Its offerings also include the Emerging Leaders Program and the New Business Officers Program.

Founded in 1962, NACUBO is a nonprofit professional organization representing chief administrative and financial officers at more than 1,700 colleges and universities across the country. It works to advance the economic vitality, business practices and support of higher education institutions in pursuit of their missions.

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Amy Lavens, the College of Arts and Sciences’ vice dean of finance and administration, is one of 17 professionals to win this recognition.

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Grad’s body of work already changing courses

Rachel Sauer — Fri, 02 May 2025 22:19:01 +0000

Grad’s body of work already changing courses Rachel Sauer Fri, 05/02/2025 - 16:19

Tim Grassley

Rachel Suter, who is earning her BA in neuroscience and arts practices, summa cum laude, is named the College of Arts and Science’s outstanding graduate for spring 2025

Fusing her artistic training and scientific understanding, Rachel Suter highlighted the questionable traditions of using cadavers while exploring anatomy through an artistic lens, and in doing so she has helped change how anatomy classes are taught.

Suter, who graduates this month summa cum laude with majors in art practices and neuroscience, has been named the spring 2025 outstanding undergraduate of the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ College of Arts and Sciences. Her thesis is titled “Cadaveric ethics in figurative art instruction: Developing a workshop for an anatomical approach.”

In her thesis, Suter explores the history and ethics of body procurement in cadaver labs, as well as the consequential effects of primarily representing white male bodies in these figures. “I was doing anatomy through an artistic lens,” notes Suter.

Rachel Suter, who graduates next week summa cum laude with majors in art practices and neuroscience, has been named the spring 2025 outstanding undergraduate of the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ College of Arts and Sciences. (Photo: Kylie Clarke)

“I created a workshop for artists in the cadaver labs that taught them superficial anatomical structures relevant to figure drawing, and I simultaneously addressed the history of body procurement and dissection to advocate for a more ethical and equitable future.”

Steven Hobbs, who is an associate teaching professor in the Department of Integrative Physiology, coordinates the anatomy lab and served as chair for Suter’s honors committee, notes that Suter’s project was excellent in its scope and caused him to reconsider his approach to teaching anatomy.

“Rachel’s honors thesis is the most original undergraduate undertaking I have witnessed in my 20-plus years at CU,” says Hobbs. “Her work deftly combines history, art, anatomical sciences and advocacy. Any of these domains would be considered original, masterful and compelling. Together, they form a remarkable whole, born entirely from Rachel’s creative thinking, passion and hard work. Her thesis is the quintessential fusion of ‘arts’ and ‘sciences.’”

While Suter’s bachelor’s degree studies in art practices and neuroscience helped her fuse research techniques and art-making workshops, the project’s interdisciplinarity also offered opportunity to initiate instructional practices that could be incorporated into anatomy labs and figure-drawing workshops right away.

“That was my big goal with the thesis,” says Suter. “It was to put theory into practice and make a tangible change.”

Exploring the ethics of how cadavers are procured, studied and illustrated

Suter began her research intending to learn about the history of how bodies are procured by cadaver labs and medical schools to better understand and critique unethical practices. As she charted the medical history, she discovered that labs commonly obtain “unclaimed bodies,” or cadavers that were not claimed by family or friends for burial or cremation and are then made available for medical education and research by the state.

In her thesis, she argues that knowing this background helps anatomy students see cadavers as more than educational objects—they are people deserving of care and respect.

“Some medical schools still use unclaimed bodies today,” says Suter, “and so my thesis promotes the use of consensually donated bodies in anatomy. I didn't know that my project would also turn into more advocacy and activism for working towards a better future.”

While delving into a cursory history of body-procurement and medical ethics, Suter recognized a relationship between her anatomy classes and art classes. While anatomy is generally taught as a science course, it uses art as one of its primary means of communicating findings about the human body, and a stronger understanding of art-making places figures in context.

As an artist interested in figure drawing, Suter experienced first-hand that her stronger understanding of anatomy helped generate more reliable and variable representations of the human body’s structures.

“I was learning how to figure draw at the same time that I was taking the anatomy lab course, and then I continued to work on my figure drawing while I was simultaneously dissecting bodies in the labs,” reflects Suter. “Having an anatomical knowledge of the human body really supported my representation of bodies in art.”

Rachel Suter organized two figure-drawing workshops in the cadaver lab for artists with the goal of helping them better understand the details they observe on the human body, like musculature and skeletal structures. (Photo: Rachel Suter)

Suter noted a tendency for anatomy textbook images and illustrations to rely on white male bodies as representative of all human bodies. She found that this was a common practice historically among medical illustrators and could create misunderstanding among students analyzing these visual representations.

“Anatomy studies people,” says Suter. “In studying people, you want to ensure that you are representative of all of those groups.”

Suter organized two figure-drawing workshops in the cadaver lab for artists with the goal of helping them better understand the details they observe on the human body, like musculature and skeletal structures.

The workshops also covered ethical considerations when working with cadavers, the importance of wide representation and individuality in artistic anatomy and methods attendees could use to advocate for a more inclusive approach to dissection and figurative art.

While she plans to pursue graduate programs in medical illustration after a gap year that includes a 10-week intensive workshop in Florence, Italy, Suter’s thesis has a more immediate effect on how anatomy will be taught at ��ƷSM��ӰƬ in the future.

“The anatomy labs here have not previously taught an ethical dimension or historical dimension,” says Suter. “Throughout my thesis, I really tried to advocate for transparency and education in these topics in a cadaver lab setting, and I'm really excited because I'm now talking to Dr. Hobbs about adding some of this content into the anatomy lab curriculum for anatomy students.”

The expansiveness of this project and its effect on teaching were the two characteristics of Suter’s nomination that drew the committee’s attention. Notes Hobbs, “As an instructor of human anatomy for nearly 20 years, I was surprised and inspired by how much I learned from Rachel. Her lessons reshaped my perspective on the human form through the lens of illustration. Rachel’s workshops and honors thesis could be the blueprint for a fantastic interdisciplinary semester course at CU. Every anatomy program should be so lucky to have a Rachel Suter.”

Suter not only feels honored to be the 2025 A&S outstanding graduate, she is also thrilled that her project leaves a legacy of change made possible through thoughtful, scholarly and artistic work.

“I don't think I've really found the words quite yet,” reflects Suter. “I'm really proud that I was able to make an impact on campus and develop a new educational approach that filled some gaps.”

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Rachel Suter, who is earning her BA in neuroscience and arts practices, summa cum laude, is named the College of Arts and Science’s outstanding graduate for spring 2025.

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Top photo: Kylie Clarke/College of Arts and Sciences

College faculty and staff honored at 2025 recognition ceremony

Kylie Clarke — Thu, 01 May 2025 21:51:26 +0000

College faculty and staff honored at 2025 recognition ceremony Kylie Clarke Thu, 05/01/2025 - 15:51

The annual event recognizes excellence in teaching, scholarship and other work that is a highlight of the College of Arts and Sciences

Faculty and staff from across the ��ƷSM��ӰƬ College of Arts and Sciences were honored at the Recognition Reception held Thursday afternoon in the Norlin Library.

Deans of division Irene Blair, Sarah E. Jackson and John-Michael Rivera presented gifts to faculty and staff being recognized for their outstanding achievements during the 2024-2025 academic year.

Awarded recognitions:

College Scholar Awards
Kahn Family Community Teaming Fund
ASCEND Awards
ASSETT Excellence in Teaching with Technology
Award Cogswell Award for Inspirational Instruction
College Professor of Distinction
CU Distinguished Professors
A&S Staﬀ Employees of the Year
Promotion to Full Professor
Tenure & Promotion to Associate Professor
Promotion to Teaching Professor
Promotion to Associate Teaching Professor

View the list of recognized faculty and staff

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The annual event recognizes excellence in teaching, scholarship and other work that is a highlight of the College of Arts and Sciences.

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