Remembering Robert Reardon
By Holly Miller
On December 13, 1988, more than five years after retiring as AU’s second president, Robert H. Reardon compiled a handwritten list of “things I’d like to be remembered for.” Some entries were predictable. He was proud of the Tri-S program, an idea that had come “on the road from Dayton late at night.” He credited several academic buildings, erected during his 25-year tenure as president, with helping create “one of the most beautiful campuses in the Midwest.” He felt confident that the leadership team he had assembled would continue to “take a good idea and make it happen” for his successor and close friend, Robert Nicholson.
Then there were his less tangible accomplishments. Academic freedom ranked high on his legacy list. “I fought every resolution to curb academic freedom,” he wrote, noting that his bringing President Theodore Hesburgh of the University of Notre Dame as the 1970 commencement speaker had “pried the doors open a little.” He also was pleased with his efforts to invite “distinguished outside theologians” to come to campus and stimulate discussions about faith.
As for his own spiritual impact, “I’d like to be remembered as a preacher who gave his best to youth conventions, camp meetings, and college chapel across the years,” he wrote. “Some found salvation and others made decisions for the ministry or for teaching.”
When Robert Reardon succumbed to pancreatic cancer on Feb. 10, 2007, at age 87, he left a legacy far larger than he envisioned in his 1988 jottings. Omitted from that modest list were perhaps his greatest contributions of all: his stories. His ready supply of anecdotes, sprinkled through his sermons and recalled in his books, had transformed the history of Anderson University from a collection of facts into a colorful depiction of events. Names became people and dates became turning points. Fortunately, many of these recollections live on, preserved in print, recorded on tape, and captured on film.
Just as Robert Reardon used stories to illustrate the history of the school he loved, so do friends use stories to reveal the character of the man they mourn. As a tribute to Anderson University’s long-time leader and perennial supporter, Signatures invited members of his closest circle to share their favorite stories. Most were delivered orally and, at key points, articulated in the storyteller’s best impression of Reardon’s gravelly drawl.
“Of all things, I shall miss college students most keenly. Their friendliness and trust, their idealism and struggle, their strength to bring together maturity in faith and maturity in intellect, their zeal for good causes and their willingness to listen to me in chapel....”
Robert H. Reardon
Anderson College Reflections, 1947-1983
My Date With The President
He was about 60. I was 19. He was giving his farewell message to the student body before he retired at the end of the year. He said his only regret was he had never been invited to a college skating party in the 35 years of his presidency.
“Well, why doesn’t anyone invite him to one?” I wondered. I stewed over this question and it came to me, “Well, why not me?” It was not my nature to ask anyone on a date, let alone a 60-year-old man who presided over my college. Yet the idea never left my mind throughout the whole chapel service. I decided that if he were busy after chapel, I’d be off the hook. If he were alone, I’d ask. As it so happened he was alone. I mustered up my courage and asked him if he’d accompany me to the next school skating party that Friday night. His glasses slipped down his nose. He looked at me intensely and then took off his glasses and grinned, “I would be proud to accompany you. It will be a fun date.”
The BIG night came. The old man rang my bell, and I was surprised when I opened the door to see a twinkle in his eye. As I looked closer, he didn’t seem much older than 50. As we drove along in his car, I studied the car controls in case I would have to drive him to the hospital later. The whole rink came to halt when we arrived. All eyes were on him, of course. We got our skates and took a turn around the floor. Students began to swarm around him and that old man began to get younger. As I watched him skate, I realized that, if anyone would go to the hospital for a bad fall, it would more likely be me. He got younger with every round on the rink floor. He couldn’t be older than 40. I was sure.
Finally the last skate began. Dim lights and a mirrored ball set the mood. He sought me out. He led me to the center of the rink while the other skaters watched. That old man turned and skated backwards facing me. In that moment, I saw the college man his wife obviously fell in love with. He had a great time, and for a moment, I was Cinderella.
Deborah (Boelke) Lee BA ’84, Reprinted from the fall 2004 Signatures
“As Dr. Ralph Noyer admonished me many years ago, ‘If you hire small-minded people, soon you will be knee-deep in midgets.’ The sterling quality of our teaching staff today is one of the things of which I am most proud.”
Robert H. Reardon
Anderson College Reflections, 1947-1983
Recruitment, Reardon Style
In 1976 I was finishing a master’s degree, working at an Ohio radio station, and struggling with the question of where I should go from there. Two career paths interested me: one was ministry, the other was teaching at the college level. I didn’t know anything about the administrative hierarchy of a university campus and so, out of ignorance or arrogance, I sent letters by certified mail to the presidents of three schools.
Within days I received a personal note from Robert H. Reardon. He explained that although the Anderson faculty didn’t have any openings, he wanted to stay in touch. I figured that was the polite way of saying “Thanks, but no thanks.” I was wrong. Two days later I received another letter, this one from Dean Robert Nicholson, confirming that Dr. Reardon had passed along my resumé and they planned to keep it on file. Two days after that, I got a letter from Duane Hoak, dean of the faculty, echoing what President Reardon and Dean Nicholson had said.
Encouraged, I enrolled in a Ph.D. program at Kent State and finished the course work in just over a year — a good thing because in August of 1978 I got a surprise call from Anderson College inviting me for an interview. I say the call was a surprise because I had moved twice since I had written to President Reardon and was, at that point, house sitting for a friend. In short, no one knew how to reach me. I later learned that someone from the president’s office had gone down a list of Church of God pastors in northeastern Ohio and finally found one who knew my whereabouts and could provide a phone number.
Looking back, I suppose I should have felt anxious the day I came to campus as a candidate. I should have felt intimidated sitting in the president’s office, answering questions from the legendary man behind the desk. But I didn’t. By noon I knew what Dr. Reardon apparently had sensed all along. This was where I belonged.
Dr. Donald G. Boggs Chair, Department of Communication
“It was here in Park Place I wandered through the campus, started school, made friends, went to Sunday School and listened to my father preach in the great Park Place Church.”
Robert H. Reardon
Anderson College Reflections, 1947-1983
The Best of Friends
I can’t remember a time when Bob Reardon wasn’t a part of my life. We grew up a half a block apart, his family at 914 Walnut Street, mine at 903. He was our paperboy, his father was our pastor. Seven years his junior, I used to trudge up the hill to the tennis courts to cheer him on whenever he had a match. Much later, our professional lives and those of our spouses intertwined. I served on Bob’s staff as dean of students at the college. Jerry, his wife, taught at the middle school where Joe, my husband, was principal. Bob played the organ at my wedding to Joe, and he was there, 55 years later, to offer a beautiful meditation at Joe’s memorial service.
“Are you still grieving?” he asked me kindly when commencement ’04 brought us together at a dinner honoring our mutual friend, Larry Osnes. By then a widower, Bob knew that the single life could be very lonesome. Yes, I was grieving, I admitted, but life still held great meaning for me, and I was ready to live it. Over lunch the next day he offered a suggestion. Perhaps the time was right for us to explore the joy companionship could bring. The idea took me by surprise, but I was deeply honored.
Geography dictated our time together. I had relocated to Florida, preferring the warmer climate. He spent summers in an Anderson condo, liking its proximity to campus. This meant any time spent together must be planned well in advance, which turned these occasions into highly anticipated events. In Florida we packed picnic lunches and went for long walks on the beach. In Anderson we attended church together, prompting speculation and a few good-natured winks.
Eventually, we simply ran out of time. Illness intervened—first my daughter’s and then Bob’ s. “You know, we might have two or three years, maybe longer,” he had said when we first talked about spending time together. Sadly, that wasn’t to be. But what was to be—and something that I’ll cherish forever—is a friendship that lasted a lifetime.
Cleda Anderson, retired AU Vice President for Student Life
“From the earliest days our leaders saw theirs as a global mission, one destined … to encircle the earth.”
Robert H. Reardon
Anderson College Reflections, 1947-1983
Around the World in 42 Days
A few days after school let out in the spring of 1965, Bob Reardon and I embarked on the journey of a lifetime—a six-week, round-the-world adventure that at one point threatened to land us in jail as suspected terrorists.
Bob had been president of the college for seven years and I had been dean of the School of Theology for three when we decided to leave the comforts of campus and meet our church missionaries and seminary alumni on their own turf. Mindful of our tight schedule and even tighter budget, Adam Miller had carefully planned the itinerary, arranged accommodations and secured the tickets, all at bargain prices.
We were prepared for the unexpected and didn’t balk when, at our first stop in the tropics, we shared a room with dozens of green geckoes that scurried across the ceiling over our beds. But even the unflappable Bob Reardon was concerned at the Calcutta airport when local police detained us as we tried to board a plane for Kenya. The source of their suspicion was Bob’s ugly brown suitcase. It had belonged to his father, E.A. Reardon, and seen better days.
“We’ll have to examine it,” announced one of the officers, who escorted us by police vehicle to an empty field at the far edge of the airport’s property. There the suitcase awaited us. The officers refused to get within 25 feet of the offending luggage, but ordered Bob to approach it, open it, and reveal its contents. Perhaps we should have protested; after all, we were men of the cloth, visiting educators from an esteemed Christian institution! Instead, a sheepish Bob did as he was told. Out tumbled a week’s worth of his dirty laundry.
The police, much embarrassed, apologized and whisked us back to the airport just in time for us to catch our flight. Next stop: Nairobi.
Gene W. Newberry, Distinguished Professor Emeritus
“I was fortunate to have Robert Nicholson by my side. When I came to Anderson in 1947, I immediately fell into a friendship and deep appreciation of the integrity and gifts of this good man.”
Robert H. Reardon
Anderson College Reflections, 1947-1983
Mixing Business with Pleasure
Bob Reardon and I often joked that we didn’t need telephones to keep in touch. Our offices, first in Old Main and then in Decker Hall, were steps apart. Our homes on Seventh Street were next door to each other. We were as likely to talk through an idea over Sunday dinner as across a conference table.
In many ways we were opposites, which is why our partnership succeeded so well for the 36 years we worked side by side. Our skills meshed in interesting ways. He was the visionary, who had a gift for strategic thinking. I was the organizer, who liked to develop the details attached to the vision. He was a marvelous public speaker; I was more comfortable behind the scenes.
Our wives were best friends, and we occasionally traveled together as couples, often mixing business with pleasure. Such was the case when the four of us drove to the Denver Youth Convention in August 1948. It was on that trip that Bob spun out the notion of Vocation Days, a program that would bring Church of God teenagers and their pastors to campus for activities that appealed to both groups. Bob saw it as a way for teens to become comfortable with “their” campus (thus boosting enrollment) and for pastors to hear excellent biblical scholars (thus strengthening the tie between the church and college). Bob’s vision grew sharper with each mile as we all traded ideas from backseat to front en route to Denver.
Our high spirits were only mildly dampened when, just outside the city, we had car trouble. We flagged down a passing pick-up truck and squeezed into the cab next to the driver. Grateful for the rescue and buoyed by the adventure, we showed our appreciation by singing a verse of “America the Beautiful,” executed in our best four-part harmony. Needless to say, the driver didn’t request an encore…he merely floored the accelerator and delivered us to our destination in record time.
Robert A. Nicholson,AU President Emeritus
“I was full of zeal for the college I loved, endowed with a lovely wife and precious children, and too inexperienced to know what formidable obstacles lay in the road ahead.”
Robert H. Reardon
Anderson College Reflections, 1947-1983
Father Knew Best
When it came to planning family vacations, my father knew best. He had a gift for finagling ways to treat us to wonderful adventures even when the family budget didn’t quite cover expenses. Shortly after school let out for the summer, we would head for the West Coast where he had arranged, in advance, a short-term preaching assignment so we kids could enjoy the beach. Over Christmas we’d drive to Florida, where Dad filled a local pulpit and we explored the coastal waters and learned to water ski. He would work; we would play.
The #1 goal of these road trips was to have fun, although lessons sometimes surfaced along the way. Once, en route to California, we visited a glitzy Las Vegas hotel. Dad took us into the casino, and in his low-key way helped us understand that such an environment might look exciting but could be very dangerous. He didn’t preach, but we got the message.
Our greatest splurge came in the summer of 1961 when Dad organized our grand tour of Europe, an exhaustive trek that included stops at every castle, art gallery, and historic site in 13 countries. Becky was entering college that fall, so Dad knew this might be the last time we would travel as a family. He pulled out all the stops, tapping into his network of friends to create opportunities that we would never forget. Among the most memorable: a private audience with Pope John Paul, arranged by the Catholic sisters at Saint John’s Hospital, where Dad served on the board.
Through all these experiences Dad encouraged us to be fearless, to welcome each new adventure, and to believe there was nothing we couldn’t do with God’s help. He taught by example, whether he was assuming the college presidency at age 39 or putting on a pair of rollerblades for the first time at age 80. If he worried that he was too young for the first challenge or too old for the second, he never let it show. We kids watched proudly from the sidelines, cheering him on, as he performed both feats with enthusiasm and grace.
Connie Reardon Hippensteel, Program Director, Kardatze Wellness Center
“I thought I could look into the future and see here in Anderson, Indiana, one of the truly great Christian colleges of America. It was this vision which nerved and inspired me.”
Robert H. Reardon
Anderson College Reflections, 1947-1983
Charting a Course
Not until 10 years ago did I finally feel comfortable calling him “Bob.” He was always President Reardon — during my undergraduate and seminary days; on all those road trips when I ran the slide projector and he talked with alumni; and certainly at that memorable church event in St. Joseph, Michigan, so many years ago. I was there as a young pastor who had a lot to learn. He was there as the featured speaker who had so much to teach.
“Want to talk?” he asked me during a break. We borrowed an office, and for the next 45 minutes he mused about the qualifications that he believed a future Anderson College president should have. I wasn’t sure why he invited me to eavesdrop on his thoughts, but I listened respectfully. “It seems to me that the person who replaces me someday ought to be an ordained minister of a growing Church of God congregation,” he said. “He needs to have a good family life and an earned doctorate.”
I felt a nudge. Was he…? I wasn’t sure, but it seemed that he was laying out a plan, a sort of assignment, that I could either claim or disregard. I listened more intently, measuring my qualifications against his criteria. Ordained minister? Check. Growing church? Yes. Good family life? The best. Earned doctorate? I had just begun to look into graduate programs.
He made no promises or commitments that day. I realized later that our conversation could have been little more than a senior colleague patting an upstart on the back and saying, “Good luck.” We never revisited the subject. If there was a dream wrapped up in our exchange, it had to be my own. He had done his part.
President Reardon — Bob — mentored me in a way that was right for me. I was close enough to him to watch his leadership style, but far enough removed to develop my own. From that vantage point I glimpsed his vision for AU. His dreams were huge, bigger than anyone knew. I only hope that in the 24 years after he left the presidency, he took joy in seeing the campus become what he always knew it could be.
Dr. James L. Edwards, President
