Dr. Gerry Toogood, about to retire from the department
of chemistry, tells how he first got here:
     
     In June 1964 I was a post-doctoral research associate
at the Argonne National Laboratories in Chicago, looking
for a more permanent position, preferably in a university,
when I saw an advertisement for an assistant professor in
chemistry at the University of Waterloo. The description of
the fledgling institution intrigued me and, as I told my fi
ancˇe, I rather fancied being "a big fish in a small pond"
(at that time, I think, there were less than 2,000 students
at UW). So I applied for the position and an interview was
arranged for sometime late in June.
     I decided to come by train since there was a
reasonable service between Chicago and Toronto in those
days. Unfortunately, the mainline route did not pass
through Kitchener so I was scheduled to arrive in Toronto
in time for a very early train "back" to Kitchener. The
expected arrival time in Toronto was about 6 a.m. to make
the connection. I suppose it was about 5 a.m. when I awoke
on the Toronto-bound train to find that it was running
about an hour late and there was no chance of catching the
Kitchener train. Consulting my map of Ontario, I decided I
would get out at the next stop and somehow make my way to
Kitchener, which, on the map, did not look too far from the
railway I was on. Thus it was that I found myself at
sunrise in Brantford! Luck was with me. A sleepy but very
affable taxi driver agreed to take me to Kitchener (I guess
luck was with him too). After a very pleasant ride I was
deposited at the first eatery in Kitchener prepared to give
me breakfast at that hour; as it happened this was on the
east side, close to the trolley turn-around.
     Breakfast over, and with time on my hands (or so I
thought), I decided to walk to the university. Needless to
say, this was a more challenging task than I had bargained
for, especially carrying a heavy briefcase, and it was a
great relief when I finally reached the university.
However, my trial was not over - I had reached the wrong
university! Nobody had told me there would be two in the
same small town (Waterloo at that time had a population of
about 20,000). So, I picked up my bag and trudged on the
last half-mile, and eventually made contact with Dean
(Pete) McBryde, who had set up my interview and seminar. He
did not seem to know whether to be pleased that I had
actually arrived, or annoyed because he had wasted valuable
time waiting in vain at the Kitchener station for me to
come from Toronto!
     My story of taking a taxi from Brantford to Kitchener
did not seem to sit too well with his Scot's sense of
finances. The salary proposed - when I was offered the job
- was considerably less than I was getting in Chicago; the
dean obviously thought anyone who could afford to take
taxis in such a profligate fashion didn't really need the
money.
     I came anyway, and have never regretted it. Well, not
often.
     Pat and I were married in Chicago on August 29, 1964,
and had just about enough time for a honeymoon in New
Orleans (almost getting arrested as civil rights activists
because of our car with Illinois "Land of Lincoln" plates,
at the time when protesting students from Michigan had just
been found murdered in Alabama) before driving our cars to
Canada. Entry at Windsor was delightfully informal - Pat
even took over typing duties of the officer who wanted a
copy of the inventory of "goods to follow". We arrived at
Waterloo on a Sunday. Classes commenced on Monday, with me
scheduled for a 9:00 lecture (no 8:30's in those days) to
about 120 engineers.
     I arrived for my class early, about 8:55, and was
disturbed to find no one there. Boycotted on day #1! The
fact that 9:00 lectures actually began at 9:10 had not been
communicated to me. Anyway, I recall standing in solitary
splendor on the stage of the Theatre of the Arts, from
which I was to lecture with the help of a rickety
blackboard which rolled on wheels when written on. It
seemed only slightly larger than a postage stamp. Eventu
ally, of course, the students arrived and I gave my first
lecture at UW. Of the lecture itself, I can remember
nothing.
     In the 1960s UW gave a large number of "upgrading"
courses for Ontario high school teachers. Initially these
were taught in summer sessions, from early July to mid-
August, and were extremely intensive, packing a whole
year's work into just six weeks. I remember giving two
hours of lectures per day, five days a week, together with
a three-hour laboratory each afternoon (except Friday).
     Some of the chemistry teachers became impatient with
this one-per-year rate at which they could acquire the
courses necessary for their specialist certificate, and
asked if we would mount Saturday courses throughout the
fall and winter sessions to expedite matters. Some of us (I
remember Harry McLeod as one of my partners) agreed to try
it out. I now began a new learning experience as I became
aware of the towns from which my clientele drove each
Saturday and, especially in the winter, just how much
variation there could be in the weather on a given day
between Belle River and Barrie, Tavistock and Toronto, etc.
The sneakered-Toronto crew contrasted dramatically with the
knee-booted snow belt boys from St. Marys! It was quite a
spur to my efforts to improve my teaching to have people
prepared to drive one-day round trip from Windsor or
Huntsville to take my course, even in very inclement
weather. I recall one winter Saturday, after an "old
faithful" from Orillia failed to turn up, hearing him apolo
gize that evening when he phoned to explain his absence:
"You may have heard about the 50-car pileup in a whiteout
south of Barrie?" I had. "Well, mine was the second car in
it."
     Another thing I learned, as a new Canadian, was the
importance of the Grey Cup. Almost all of my class of some
35 teachers were adamant that there could be no classes on
that Saturday. (I wonder if there would be the same
enthusiasm for the Grey Cup these days?)
     I made a number of lasting friendships with teachers
as a result of these courses and, to a lesser extent, the
correspondence ("distance education") courses which suc
ceeded them. In 1984 I arranged for a reunion for those I
could locate 20 years on. Some 30 of us had one of the
first tours of the Seagram Museum, which was not yet
officially open, and enjoyed dinner and exchanging news and
memories together at the University Club.