Ralph Stanton

In 1953, in a first year math class, I had an interesting prof. His name was Ralph Stanton. Four years later, when I graduated in 1957, I and a couple of my classmates were invited to teach math at what was known as the "Associate Faculties" of Waterloo Lutheran College, in Waterloo, Ontario. Sure, why not? Sounded like fun. This college did not have a charter to grant degrees. I had to drive to London, Ontario, to have my final exams approved by the math chairman at Western University. However, there were some, including Ralph (who was head of math at the College), who had great plans: Build a brand new university just up the street. Although there were various objections, a number of acres were purchased and (eventually) the University of Waterloo was born. It had an innovative Coop Education program. It is now the largest such program in the world. The old college also became a full-fledged university: Waterloo Lutheran University ... and then (eventually) Wilfred Laurier University, retaining the initials WLU. I taught at U of W for a couple of years and watched with awe as the new university grew. Then (when Heidi had graduated from nurses college), we went to the University of Illinois so I could get a PhD (and Heidi a PhT: Putting Hubby Through). Although my thesis supervisor had arranged a job at Bell labs, Ralph visited us in Illinois and convinced us to return to Waterloo ... which we did. How the university had changed! (Years later, I wrote a short history of Computer Science at Waterloo. It included Ralph's contribution ... but I can't find a copy.)** During the next first few years I watched Ralph at work. Again, in spite of various objections, he managed to convince the powers-that-be to create North America's first Faculty of Mathematics. There were six departments in this new Faculty and Ralph selected me as the first chairman of the Applied Math dept. (Students in the Faculty, competing in the annual Putnam Math Competition, have ranked sixth in North America, after Harvard, MIT, Caltech, Princeton and Toronto and ahead of Berkeley, Cornell, Stanford, Duke, Chicago, Yale and Columbia. Not bad for a young university, eh? I coached the Putnam Team for a few years. I must have been a lousy coach 'cause, with my input, we never did better than 7th.) Soon after, Ralph left for the University of Manitoba. However, his notorious (gawdy?) pink ties are still remembered. Indeed, the pink tie is the icon for the Faculty and hangs with pride on the math building on special occasions: A few days ago, Ralph Stanton died.

**
Don Cowan (the first charman of Computer Science)
kindly sent me a copy of my lost "history"

The preamble to the History of Computer Science
(based upon stories told to me by Ralph Stanton)

In the beginning ... It was 4:27 p.m. The meeting of the board of governors had but one item on the agenda: the recommendation of the Academic Advisory Committee (AAC). Ralph Stanton leaned back, gazed at the clock, then at Ted Batke; both looked weary. Carl Pollock was speaking in favour of the recommendation, but there seemed little hope of other support from the board. Little more than a year had passed since Ralph left the University of Toronto to chair the mathematics department at Waterloo College, a small liberal arts college sponsored by the Lutheran Church and granting degrees through an affiliation with the chartered University of Western Ontario. For members of the math department at the College it meant the curious, annual ritual of driving to London, Ontario, to have final examination papers approved by the math Chairman at Western. But there was something else: co-operative education, a first in Canada. It was a novel scheme championed by Joseph Gerald "Gerry" Hagey, late of the B. F. Goodrich Company and current President of Waterloo College, and Ira G. Needles, president of B. F. Goodrich and chairman of the board of governors. Classes had begun in July, 1957, with some seventy-five students who had completed Ontario grade 12 and enrolled in a "pre-engineering" program on the small campus, alternating 3 month academic terms with 3 month work terms. They constituted the Associate Faculties of Waterloo College. The church-affiliated College now had a non-denominational component (a Faculty of Applied Science, with Les Emery as Principal) which could attract provincial funding not available to sectarian institutions. In 1957, classrooms for the Associate Faculties were located in two prefab huts, Annex 1 and Annex 2, providing some 8,000 sq. ft. of teaching space behind Willison Hall, the only permanent structure on campus besides the Arts building. Ralph Stanton had hired four graduates from the Engineering Physics program at the University of Toronto: Dave Fisher, Jim Leslie (now in Physics at UW), Keith Oddson and Peter Ponzo. In 1958, A. S. "Bert" Barber succeeded George Dufault as director of coordination, handling job procurement and sharing space with the fledgling math department in a house at the Albert and Dearborn corner of campus. But, in the fall of 1957, the recommendation of the Academic Advisory Committee (AAC) constituted a necessary preamble to the creation of a new university - and support was minimal. Ralph Stanton brushed the hair from his forehead, leaned on the table with chin in hands and listened to the debate. It was 4:42 and the meeting was to end at 5:00. p.m. A.M. Snyder, a local businessman and member of the board, had spoken vehemently against the recommendation. Now Carl Pollock was speaking, again. A native of Kitchener and president of Electrohome Canada Ltd., his support was needed, and appreciated, yet his seemed the only supportive voice. Gerald Hagey had been strangely quiet. Ira Needles, as chairman of the Board, had spoken once or twice; it was clear that support did not lie with him. Ralph closed his eyes. It was nearly a month since he and Ted Batke and the other members of the "fearsome five" (Ted Batke, Ron Bowman, Art Cowan, Bruce Kelly and Ralph Stanton) had tramped the few blocks down Dearborn Street to the Schweitzer farm, past the vacant lots to the fields of corn and mud. The chestnut trees hung solemn above the farm house and dark clouds billowed in a grey sky. It was cold and bleak, yet there was a certain measure of excitement: the property was for sale, the price was reasonable, it was less than a country mile from the Waterloo College campus. It was clearly impossible to develop a university on the small campus of a sectarian College. The Schweitzer farm could become, would become, the home of a new university. It meant applying for additional funds from the province and, in particular, a charter to grant degrees. Yet, weren't there already students studying in the new co-operative education environment? Didn't the College already have a complement of arts students? Surely the provincial government would support the application for a charter - and provide the necessary funding. The timing was right. Every qualified youth must have access to a university education. It was becoming a familiar cry in the province. It had taken less than 24 hours for the AAC to agree on the wording of the recommendation: purchase the Schweitzer farm and expand the facilities of the College to accommodate the increased demand for higher education in Ontario. They had approached Gerald Hagey and he had agreed to put it before the Board of Governors of the Associate Faculties. Yet, it now seemed hopeless. At 4:55 there was a rustling of papers in the board room. The meeting was coming to an end. The recommendation would be ignored; too expensive, too grandiose. The AAC had been promised an hour, and the hour had ended. There was little more to debate. Members of the Board were collecting their notes. Then A.R. Kaufman said something, quietly, unobtrusively ... and the rustling of papers stopped. Kaufman was undoubtedly the most respected member of the board. A wealthy industrialist, philanthropist, president of Kaufman Shoes, outspoken proponent and supporter of family planning (long before it became fashionable), he commanded the admiration and, indeed, awe of the community and, more importantly, the board room. Gerald Hagey looked at the tall, gaunt man who had sat for an hour without saying a word. All eyes turned to Kaufman. There was silence in the room. "Gentlemen," Kaufman said softly, "I think we should buy the property ... and we should do it soon." The silence continued for several seconds, then the chairman harumphed and laughed and chuckled - and agreed with Kaufman. Then all agreed. The debate had ended. The Schweitzer farm would be purchased and a new university would be created.