On April 5, 1855, Oren Cheney presided over the very first meeting of the board of trustees of his new school, the Maine State Seminary, which would become 乐播传媒 College by 1864.

At the time, the school was a paper tiger, and just barely. Its hard-won charter had been granted by the Maine Legislature just three weeks prior, on March 16.聽Much more than symbolic, the April 5 gathering marked the actual establishment of the corporation 鈥� the establishment of 乐播传媒, in a real sense.

Then as now, April is mud season in Maine, and travel to Augusta was likely difficult for those founding trustees. For that or other reasons, by the meeting鈥檚 scheduled start time of 10 a.m., only 14 of Cheney鈥檚 28 trustees鈥� one shy of the required majority鈥� had arrived for the meeting.

The location of the meeting, in Augusta, at a new Freewill Baptist church on State Street for which Cheney served as pastor, typified the resolve that Cheney would bring to bear in founding 乐播传媒.

Three years earlier, the little church was in disarray and had already disbanded once. Yet Cheney agreed to be its pastor. “The call here had little money in it,” recalled Cheney, “hardly enough to keep soul and body together, and the hardest of work.”

Appointed in June 1852, Cheney immediately raised money for a new building, which was funded, built, and dedicated, debt-free, just 17 months later at a cost of $5,600.

This tree-filled yard (center) on State Street in Augusta is the likely location of the Freewill Baptist Church and the first meeting of the trustees of the Maine State Seminary on April 5, 1855. (Jay Burns/乐播传媒 College)

Minus one trustee needed for a majority, Cheney didn’t just sit and stew. He sent a text, 1800s style, firing off a telegram to one wayward trustee, Joshua Haskell, in Topsham, about 30 miles south. 鈥淲e lack one trustee to make a majority 鈥� come in the next train,鈥� Cheney pleaded.

Luckily, a 15th trustee (not Haskell) soon breezed through the door of the Freewill Baptist church, and the meeting got underway. Lasting until 11 p.m., it was 鈥渉armonious and pleasant without exception,鈥� Cheney said, noting that the trustees adjourned the meeting knowing that an existential decision, choosing the school鈥檚 location, awaited them at their next meeting in June.

Oren Cheney famously kept his eyes on the prize: to found a new Maine college. (Muskie Archives and Special Collections Library)

When you鈥檙e trying to launch a new college, as Oren Cheney was doing on this day in 1855, you sweat the details. A former member of the Maine Legislature, Cheney had famously kept watch over the bill for the seminary charter as it made its way through the Legislature, hand-delivering the bill to the governor鈥檚 office for signing the month before.

You also don鈥檛 suffer fools, and you watch your money.

So naturally, Cheney didn鈥檛 forget about the cable he’d sent to Brunswick (the closest telegraph office to Topsham), nor the 20 cents he鈥檇 spent on it.

Turns out, the telegraph office had dumped Cheney鈥檚 urgent message into the outgoing mail rather than deliver it immediately to Haskell. 鈥淭here it remained for hours until the cars [trains] had passed,鈥� Cheney wrote in his regular column in The Morning Star, a Baptist newspaper.

Indeed, Cheney devoted a good portion of his April 18 column to calling out the Brunswick telegraph office. 鈥淲e mention this to put the public on guard,鈥� he wrote. 鈥淲e can send a letter to Brunswick for 3 cents 鈥� the dispatch cost 20 鈥� and both of them, in the case presented, would be money thrown away.鈥�

As for the Freewill meetinghouse at 43 State St., it is long gone. The church merged with another Baptist church in Augusta in the 1920s to form the Penney Memorial United Baptist Church.

What remains on the site today is a wooded lot between two historic buildings that also date to the mid-1800s. After the church merger, the building was later home to a building contractor (whose structures, among others, included “car barns,” for trolley cars) and, by the 1920s, an Oldsmobile dealership.

It was razed some time after 1936, as it is mentioned as still standing in the college history 乐播传媒 College and Its Background.

Sources for this story included the , Muskie Archives and Special Collections Library, the聽 in Augusta, and the in Augusta.

乐播传媒 and 乐播传媒 people are part of the main event in media coverage ahead of the 50th anniversary of the famed Muhammad Ali vs. Sonny Liston boxing match, held in Lewiston on May 25, 1965.

The May 26, 1965, front page of the Lewiston Daily Sun (now the Sun Journal). The fight story refers to Ali as “Cassius M.A. Clay,” the media not yet agreeing to refer to the boxer as Muhammad Ali.

Six alumni are quoted or noted in聽 by Harvey Araton of The New York Times: Al Harvie ’65, Peter Heyel ’65, Dick Rozene ’65, Bryan Carlson ’67, Tom McKittrick ’67 and John Jenkins ’74.

The Times story steps outside the ring to look at the social and cultural fabric of Lewiston, then and now. In the process, it talks about 乐播传媒’ evolving relationship with the city, from being a disengaged “leafy oasis of privilege” in 1965 to a more robust community partner today.

Meanwhile, the Lewiston Sun Journal published a major commemorative print and online edition, “ the title referring to Ali’s lightning right jab, seen by few, that felled Liston midway through the first round.

Online, the Sun Journal‘s coverage includes a story by columnist Kalle Oakes, plus video clips, sharing the fight-night recollections by brothers Al Harvie ’65 and Keith Harvie ’68.

During the final week of May 1965, 乐播传媒 was in session 鈥� final exams were taking place 鈥� so a number of students found their way downtown to see, and sneak into, the fight at the Central Maine Youth Center, now the Androscoggin Bank Colis茅e.

The Fight (and what hoopla!)

Today,聽 Jan. 23, hundreds of 乐播传媒 students will take turns making a quick dash onto and into Lake Andrews.

Yep, the Puddle Jump is upon us.

And while the origins of many student traditions are murky, the only thing unclear about the genesis of the Puddle Jump tradition, 40 years old this year, might be the famously turbid water of Lake Andrews.

From left, Mark Stevens ’77, Scott Copeland ’78, Chris Callahan ’78, Lars Llorente ’78 鈥� the founders of the Puddle Jump 鈥� prepare for the inaugural dip in 1975.

A story about the first Puddle Jump appeared in the March 27, 1975, issue of The 乐播传媒 Student. That’s Mark Stevens ’77 in the photo.

The tradition has a crystal-clear provenance thanks to its attentive founders, Christopher Callahan ’78, Scott Copeland ’78, Lars Llorente ’78 and Mark Stevens ’77.

It all began in 1975, when the four cut a hole in the ice on Lake Andrews, donned bathing suits (a few, at least), and took a bracing St. Patrick’s Day dip.

It was all about “exuberance at the end of a hard winter,” according to Callahan.

Callahan was also influenced by the famous New Year’s Day swim by the L Street Brownies, they of South Boston’s Irish-Catholic community.

Like all impeccable logic of one’s college days, “somehow that inspired us to cut a hole in the ice and dip” on St. Patrick’s Day in 1975.

In a letter to 乐播传媒 Magazine in 2010, Gary Grieve-Carlson 鈥�77 recalls “watching those four lunatics laboriously chip away at that thick ice with a small hatchet and a large metal rod, long after the sun had set, from my room in Smith South.”

The Puddle Jump was a longtime mainstay of St. Patrick’s Day. There was a period of time when two dips took place, one in March and one during Winter Carnival week in January. In recent years, the January jump has taken over in a big way.

An article in The 乐播传媒 Student of March 27, 1975, was prophetic: “This St. Patty’s Day dip will hopefully become an annual tradition, with more participants each year.”

A place in 乐播传媒’ “history of fun.”

How true. From four pioneers the jump will attracts hundreds tomorrow.

The annual jump is run by the leaders of the 乐播传媒 Outing Club.

They use a gas-powered auger, pickaxes and a two-man saw that might be a relic from 乐播传媒鈥� early 20th-century forestry program to hack out a hole with great vigor, if not precision.

Callahan says that while co-founding the Puddle Jump can’t be confused with anything terribly “useful or important,” it’s a pretty good feeling knowing that “Lake Andrews has its place in the history of fun.”

This black-and-white photograph shows Martin Luther King Jr. speaking at an interfaith rally at San Francisco鈥檚 Cow Palace in May 1964.

A beam of light illuminates King at the podium, as if conferring a celestial blessing. George Conklin 鈥�53 remembers the scene well. He took the photo.

In 2013, Conklin and his photograph received a DeRose-Hinkhouse Memorial Award from the Religion Communicators Council, a national interfaith association.

The award recognizes the photo鈥檚 installation at San Francisco鈥檚 McLaren Park, overlooking the Cow Palace.

Engraved on a stone, the photo is part of a 鈥渕using station鈥� on the park鈥檚 new Philosopher鈥檚 Way.

In 1964, Conklin, an ordained United Church of Christ minister, was communications director for the Northern California Council of Churches.

He was photographing King鈥檚 appearance using Kodak Tri-X, the go-to film of the day for photojournalists who prized its high speed 鈥� meaning they could shoot in difficult, low-light conditions without a flash.

And that鈥檚 what Conklin was doing on the night of May 30, 1964. 鈥淭he long evening wore on, the humidity in the vast hall increased and I could see the beam appearing. I got up and took the last frames of a 36-frame roll.鈥�

Conklin has also photographed such notables as Cesar Chavez, theologian Karl Barth, Yasser Arafat in his Ramallah bunker and then-Sen. Barack Obama.

鈥淚 often say, 鈥楯oin the church and see the world.鈥欌��

In a sense, Conklin鈥檚 photography is part of his ministry. 鈥淚 have expressed the ideas of action for justice and social change through my avocation of photography.鈥�

It was 17 years ago today that then-senior Stu Abelson ’97 donned the Bobcat costume and waterskied across Lake Andrews.

Looking back, Abelson says that “my strongest memory is that it was such a team effort.”

The feat, occuring on the Friday of that year’s Senior Week, wasn’t a renegade stunt under the cover of darkness but a well-planned campus event by Abelson and members of the waterskiing club.

In fact, Abelson sought and got full buy-in from various campus offices, including the 1997 equivalents of Facilities Services, Security and Campus Safety and 乐播传媒 Communications. “And the President’s Office, including [then-President] Don Harward,” Abelson says. “It was Don who sent out the campus-wide email announcing it.”

Hundreds flocked to the shores of Lake Andrews to watch. (The full backstory is explained in this “This Month in 乐播传媒 History” installment, including the semi-heroics of the SUV driver, Caleb Goodrich ’99.)

Video coverage of the 1997 event by the local ABC affiliate, WMTW:

In one sense, it was a 15-second stunt. In another, Abelson believes, it tells something about the 乐播传媒 community.

To this day, Abelson remains impressed that no one put roadblocks in front of what must’ve seemed like a really idiotic complex idea. On the contrary, there was full support. “乐播传媒 people like to figure out how to get something done, pull together to make it happen and not find excuses why things can’t happen.”

The waterskiing 乐播传媒 Bobcat (Stu Abelson ’97) ends his trek across Lake Andrews on May 23, 1997. (Jose Leiva)

Abelson points to Edgar Shein, the organizational theorist, who calls events like this “artifacts” of an organization, those visible elements that members of the organization see and say, “Yes! That is so us!”

“Teammwork and creativity,” says Abelson. “That’s what 乐播传媒 is all about.”

Abelson, today a 乐播传媒 trustee, is president and CEO President of Ora, the world’s leading ophthalmic product development firm and .

“That’s why Ora goes to 乐播传媒. Those talents are nurtured at 乐播传媒, and when students graduate they’re ready.”

The late Edmund Muskie ’36 was born 100 years ago聽鈥� March 28, 1914, to be exact.

With help from the Edmund S. Muskie Archives and Special Collections Library, we celebrate this statesman’s 100th birthday by offering six things everyone should know about our 1936 alumnus and long-serving Maine governor, U.S. senator and U.S. secretary of state.

Among various Muskie remembrances this month was Muskie Archives director Pat Webber’s appearance on Maine public radio’s Maine Calling for “”

Here are six things to remember about Edmund Sixtus Muskie:

1. He was from a Maine family that was sending its first children to college

Edmund Muskie is at back left with his siblings and his mother, Josephine. (Photograph courtesy of the Edmund S. Muskie Archives and Special Collections Library)

Ed Muskie was the son of Poland-born Stephen Marciszewski, who changed his name to Muskie when he emigrated to the U.S., and Josephine Cznarnecka, the daughter of a Polish-American family in Buffalo, N.Y.

Muskie’s father, a master tailor who owned a shop in Rumford, was outspoken in his support of Democratic Party ideology even though it conflicted with many of his customers鈥� Republican beliefs.

2. Politics and the role of government were on his mind at 乐播传媒

Edmund Muskie ’36 (left) and Charles Taylor ’36 study in their freshman-year room in Roger Williams Hall. Muskie later lived in Parker Hall. (Photograph courtesy of Edmund S. Muskie Archives and Special Collections Library)

Muskie, then known as “Eddie,” lived in Roger Williams Hall and then in Parker Hall. He was president of his class, a standout debater, and graduated cum laude in 1936.

His honors thesis in history and government made two points: (1) the U.S. needed a comprehensive national system of social security, including health, unemployment and old-age insurance, and (2) the U.S. Constitution needed to be amended to give Congress the power to check the Supreme Court’s power of judicial review, since the court had shown its propensity to strike down similar New Deal legislation earlier in the 1930s.

With the Depression a vivid reality, Muskie wrote that “the individual, without aid, cannot protect himself against the inevitable hazards which are his destiny as a member of our modern order.”

3. He revived Maine’s Democratic Party

Edmund Muskie won the Maine governorship in 1954 thanks to hard campaigning and support from savvy advisers like Frank Coffin ’40 (right). In this 1956 photo, the “Muskie Coffin” sign refers to Muskie’s reelection as governor and Coffin’s being chair of the Maine Democratic State Committee. (Photograph courtesy of Edmund S. Muskie Archives and Special Collections Library)

In 1954, Maine Democrats were looking for a candidate to run for governor, and they recruited Muskie 鈥� but only after all other potential candidates declined.

A Democrat hadn’t been governor in nearly 20 years, and only one had been elected in the preceding 40 years.

Muskie was a weak candidate in more ways than one: He was still recovering from the physical and financial effects of a broken back suffered in 1953.

But Muskie won, thanks to hard campaigning, support from savvy advisers like Frank Coffin ’40 (above) and Don Nicoll, and an intimate knowledge of the state gained during his direction of the Office of Price Stabilization. The win gained national attention, and he appeared on a new morning TV show: NBC鈥檚 Today.

Although Maine remained a bastion of Republican politics through much of his career, Muskie nevertheless garnered 60 percent or more of the popular vote in each of his four senatorial elections.

4. He was called “Mr. Clean”

In this early 1960s image, U.S. Sen. Edmund Muskie 鈥�36 and Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall, with an unidentified park ranger, visit Maine鈥檚 Cadillac Mountain, located within Acadia National Park. (Photograph courtesy of Edmund S. Muskie Archives and Special Collections Library)

Muskie was the grandfather of modern environmental legislation. As a senator, he sponsored both the Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act, which fundamentally established our federal government鈥檚 duties to preserve and protect the environment.

On the floor of the Senate after Muskie’s death in 1996, Sen. Max Baucus, D-Montana, said that “because of the work of Ed Muskie, our children are growing up in a more healthy and beautiful America.”

5. He was targeted by Nixon’s “dirty tricks” in 1972

Popular memory holds that Muskie鈥檚 campaign collapsed after he allegedly teared up during a New Hampshire press conference, but the reasons are more complex, including dirty tricks by President Nixon’s Committee for the Reelection of the President. (Photograph courtesy of Edmund S. Muskie Archives and Special Collections Library)

A front-runner for the 1972 presidential nomination, Muskie and his campaign were targeted by Nixon’s Committee for the Reelection of the President and its program of “dirty tricks.” That included the so-called 鈥淐anuck Letter鈥� 鈥� that accused Muskie of making derogatory remarks about Maine鈥檚 French-Canadian citizens.

It is thought that Muskie鈥檚 campaign floundered in New Hampshire after he reportedly teared up while delivering a withering criticism of the conservative Union Leader, which had published an unscrupulous attack on Muskie’s wife, Jane.

In her 2003 autobiography, Madeleine Albright, who worked for the 1972 Muskie campaign and later as a Senate staffer, said that “today a male politician who cried while defending his wife would probably go up in the polls.”

6. He received the Presidential Medal of Freedom

In May 1980, Edmund Muskie ’36 is sworn in as U.S. secretary of state by his longtime friend and adviser, Frank Coffin ’40, a U.S. circuit judge at the time. Looking on are, from left, President Jimmy Carter; Muskie’s daughter, Ellen Muskie Allen; and his wife, Jane Muskie. (Bill Fitzpatrick/The White House, courtesy Edmund S. Muskie Archives and Special Collections Library)

In 1981, President Jimmy Carter awarded Muskie the Presidential Medal of Freedom, America鈥檚 highest civilian award.

Years later, in his eulogy of Muskie, Carter said that of all the people he’d ever known, Muskie was the most qualified person to serve as president. However, he added, “I don’t believe that many presidents in history have contributed as much to the quality of life of people in our nation and around the world.”

Muskie once said that “there are only two types of politics. They are not radical or reactionary, or conservative and liberal, or even Democratic or Republican. They are only the politics of fear, and the politics of trust.”

After the assassination of President Kennedy on Nov. 22, 1963, there were no blogs, Twitter or Facebook to help millions express their grief.

But there were other communications media, like newspapers. And at 乐播传媒, The 乐播传媒 Student offered a place for students and faculty alike to find support and community.

President John Kennedy and Jacqueline Kennedy ride with Texas Gov. John Connally and Nellie Connally in the presidential motorcade on Nov. 22, 1963, in Dallas. (Victor Hugo King / Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division)

Mac Reid ’67 wrote the poem “Death of a President” that appeared in the Dec. 4, 1963, issue. Like most people who can recall that day, Reid’s memory is specific.

“I remember hearing the news of JFK’s assassination and walking across campus to West Parker. There were few students out and about. No one was talking. Students were looking down, perhaps not to make eye contact that would commence a conversation. No one knew what to say.”

That perception is perhaps reflected in one of the poem’s lines: “Actions are limited 鈥� movement is at a minimum.”

Reid recalls how he “got back to my dorm room and just lay on my bed trying to make sense of it, especially the feeling of having no concept that our president could ever be killed.

“Then I got off my bed and wrote the poem.”

Now retired from a career as a school superintendent, Reid has always written poetry, but nothing in the style of “Death of a President.”

But the poem does have one thing in common with his other writing, he says. It’s about “what poetry can do to make connections with people I know and care about.”

In his Dec. 4, 1963, 乐播传媒 Student letter to the editor, Mac Reid ’67 turns to poetry and metaphor to express the anguish of the time:

The Nov. 27, 1963, issue of The 乐播传媒 Student offers campus reaction to the assassination of President Kennedy five days earlier on Nov. 22, 1963:

A Unitarian Universalist minister, John Papandrew was active in the civil rights movement. In 1962, he marched and went to jail with Martin Luther King Jr. and other clergy in Albany, Ga.

Anyone shocked by Kennedy’s death, Papandrew told the 乐播传媒 audience in his talk two days after Kennedy’s assassination, should acquaint themselves with similar violence surrounding the civil rights movement:

In The 乐播传媒 Student of Nov. 27, 1963, a poetic essay by Bill Hiss ’66, who retired in 2012 from a career as a 乐播传媒 admission dean and vice president, suggests the indelible memories created in the hours and days after the assassination:

James Corey ’63 offers an international perspective in his Dec. 4, 1963, 乐播传媒 Student letter to the editor from Spain:

In an act of creative generosity that would become a trademark of sorts, the late Professor of English and poet John Tagliabue offers the 乐播传媒 community a literary perspective on Kennedy’s death:

Now a best-selling author of books about books and bibliophiles, Nick Basbanes ’65 was sports editor of The 乐播传媒 Student in 1963. He devotes his Nov. 27, 1963, column to President Kennedy’s sports legacy:

Part cheer, part exultation, “Great day to be a Bobcat!” is heard loud and clear when the going is good (or great) for the garnet faithful.

But who coined the phrase? Turns out that Reunion Weekend was the perfect time to find out.

Benjamin Mays biographer Randal Maurice Jelks.

Benjamin E. Mays was a civil rights theorist, educator, preacher, Morehouse College president and mentor to the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.

Mays was also one of 乐播传媒 College’s most influential graduates, a member of the class of 1920. The college presents award-winning Mays biographer Randal Maurice Jelks, a member of the University of Kansas faculty, in a talk at 7 p.m. Monday, March 25, in the Benjamin Mays Center, 95 Russell St.

Sponsored by the college’s Office of Intercultural Education, the lecture is open to the public at no cost. For more information, please call 207-786-8376.

Jelks is the author of Benjamin Elijah Mays, Schoolmaster of the Movement (University of North Carolina Press, 2012), the first full-length biography of the man King called his “spiritual and intellectual father.”

In recognition of Schoolmaster of the Movement, Jelks recently received the 2013 Literary Award for Nonfiction from the Black Caucus of the American Library Association, one of several awards with which the organization salutes excellence in works by African-American authors.

Mays was born in 1894 to sharecroppers in rural South Carolina. His first memory was of a white mob threatening his father. From an early age, Mays was determined both to get the best education and to break the grip of Jim Crow laws on the South.

In 1917, he entered 乐播传媒 as a 23-year-old sophomore after a year at Virginia Union University, where two 乐播传媒 alumni on the faculty encouraged him to try their alma mater. He came to Lewiston not only for a better education than a person of color could reasonably expect down South, but to prove his intellectual equality to whites.

Proof abounded. Mays won a speaking award in his first year at 乐播传媒, finished his senior year as captain of a triumphant debate team and was one of 15 in his class to graduate with honors, among other achievements.

Central to Schoolmaster of the Movement is Jelks’ argument that by connecting the substance of Christianity with the responsibility to challenge injustice, Mays prepared the black church for its central role in the civil rights movement.

And it was at 乐播传媒, Jelks writes, that Mays laid the groundwork for “a new biblical interpretation that could mobilize black communities to take action against Jim Crow’s enforced apathy.” Mays’ studies in religion steered him toward an intellectual structure for both his Baptist faith and his personal mission “to uplift his people,” in Jelks’ words.

Mays and 乐播传媒 had a profound and enduring effect on each other. As Mays famously summed up his experience in Born to Rebel: “乐播传媒 College did not ’emancipate’ me: it did the far greater service of making it possible for me to emancipate myself, to accept with dignity my own worth as a free man.”

Those words are echoed in the college’s mission statement, which begins: “Since 1855, 乐播传媒 College has been dedicated to the emancipating potential of the liberal arts.” Mays exemplifies commitments to social justice, individual worth and access to education that have always been bedrock values for 乐播传媒.

Jelks is an associate professor of American studies at the University of Kansas, with a joint appointment in African and African American studies. He is co-editor of the journal American Studies and a co-founder and editor of the Michigan-based blog , which covers politics, culture and social activism.

He received a bachelor’s degree in history from the University of Michigan, a master’s of divinity from McCormick Theological Seminary and a doctorate in comparative black histories from Michigan State University. He is an ordained clergyman in the Presbyterian Church.

Jelks also wrote the award-winning African Americans in the Furniture City: The Struggle for Civil Rights in Grand Rapids (University of Illinois Press, 2006).

The 乐播传媒 College Chapel became the Peter J. Gomes Chapel on Oct. 25 as hundreds of friends and colleagues of the late preacher and teacher gathered to remember him in words and song.

The Rev. Jonathan Walton, Peter Gomes’ successor as Plummer Professor of Christian Morals and Pusey Minister in The Memorial Church at Harvard, delivers the sermon at the service of naming the Gomes Chapel. Photo: Mike Bradley/乐播传媒 College.

Thoughtfully programmed, the 90-minute chapel service painted a picture of the complex and beloved Gomes, one of the brightest lights in the constellation of 乐播传媒 alumni. From the invocation by Bill Blaine-Wallace, multifaith chaplain at 乐播传媒, to the benediction by Emily Wright-Magoon, associate multifaith chaplain, the service established Gomes’ personal and intellectual ties to 乐播传媒, the college that he credited as a formative force in his life.

Ultimately, in the sermon of the Rev. Jonathan L. Walton, Gomes’ successor as Plummer Professor of Christian Morals and Pusey Minister in The Memorial Church at Harvard, the event situated Gomes and 乐播传媒 in a greater moral landscape illuminated by faith, tenacity and hope.

“He relished this college, he cherished this chapel.”

And all this in a setting in which Gomes would likely have found much delight. “He relished this college. He cherished this chapel,” as one of the speakers, Carl Benton Straub, professor emeritus of religion and Clark A. Griffith Professor Emeritus of Environmental Studies, told the crowd.

Just days before the 100th anniversary of the groundbreaking for the building, its stone walls were warmed by the presence of hundreds of people steeped in deep feeling for its namesake, ornamented by pomp and spectacle, and bathed in music from Bach to Paganini to Gomes’ Harvard friend Carson Cooman.

No images in slideshow.

In timing and content, the service also served as prelude to the much-anticipated inauguration of A. Clayton Spencer as 乐播传媒’ eighth president on Oct. 26. 乐播传媒 trustees, active and retired, were on hand for the naming, as were three of Spencer’s predecessors as 乐播传媒 president: Donald Harward, Elaine Hansen and Nancy Cable, whose term as interim president directly preceded Spencer’s.

A handful of the delegates who will represent different educational institutions at Spencer’s installation were also in attendance. And the service highlighted the 乐播传媒-Harvard bond embodied by Gomes and now by 乐播传媒’ new president, who served Harvard for 15 years, most recently as vice president for policy. In addition to Walton, that little school down the road in Cambridge also sent the Rev. Wendel W. Meyer, associate minister for administration in The Memorial Church to 乐播传媒 to speak.

Also among the Harvard contingent was violinist Ryu Goto, Harvard ’11, a Deutsche Grammophon recording artist whose virtuosic rendition of a work by Paganini seemed to capture in sound the diverse dimensions of Gomes’ character.

Courage, intelligence, delight, generosity, and humility.

If Straub provided the closest focus on Gomes’ time at 乐播传媒, it was Meyer who gave us the closest analysis of his character. The eloquent Meyer cited five qualities that he associates with his former colleague: courage, intelligence, delight, generosity, and humility 鈥� and founded on and enabled by a profound Christian faith.

The scripture reading for the service was Hebrews 12:1, which exhorts the reader to cast off impediments and run before the eyes of a “cloud of witnesses” who have made that same journey.

In his sermon, Walton built a long and masterful rhetorical arc from his relationship with President Spencer, through past 乐播传媒 presidents and other central figures, to the inspirational story of injured Olympic runner Derek Redmond hobbling across the finish line with his father by his side 鈥� and finally brought it home by reminding his listeners of the lesson from Ecclesiastes that the race is not given to the swift nor the strong, but to him or her who endures to the end.