UW Gazette, January 31, 1996 by Horacio Oliveira "I think this is kind of like moving house," says Dr. Ron Eydt, who's about to move, figuratively at least, after thirty years as UW's warden of residences. "You have to pack and decide what's to be kept," he says. "I see it as very healthy. I'm not suggesting it's going to be pain-free, but on balance it will be very positive." That's Eydt's prediction of Waterloo's future after the early-retirement dust settles. Eydt, for many years a biology professor and now the full-time warden of residences, is one of the 340 people leaving earlier than expected. Eydt retires July 1, 11 months before his 65th birthday and at least three years before he'd planned to leave his job. "I looked at the package, consulted with two different financial consultants and my wife (a recently retired nurse supervisor at St. Mary's Hospital) and decided that at this point it doesn't matter on my CV whether I stay as warden for 30 or 31 years," he explains. "Change is hard to take, but change is what life's all about," says Eydt on a languid Friday afternoon in his Village 1 office. "I'm not the least bit worried about the academic integrity of this university." His hopeful prediction carries some weight, for he was one of those people who built the "house" that is the University of Waterloo, a place that's grown alongside Eydt's UW career. In the late 1950s, UW (initially the Waterloo College Associate Faculties) was one building (Engineering 1), surrounded by mud and adjacent to a dead- end street known as Dearborn Street - later renamed University Avenue. Building up the university was an explicit condition of Eydt's employment here. In early 1959, just a year and a half after classes began at UW, Eydt was interviewed by the first dean of science, Dr. Bruce Kelley. A 26-year-old botanist who'd just completed post-doctoral studies in Glasgow on Canadian muskegs, Eydt cheekily asked for a greenhouse to be built. Kelley accepted and construction dutifully began in anticipation of Eydt's arrival in September 1959. When Eydt returned to the campus to begin teaching, a new Math and Physics building was also getting its finishing touches. Other buildings continually sprouted up around Eydt and other UW pioneers. "I've seen every building go up here, except for the first one. Together we were building a university, and we did." Eydt and colleagues also worked to establish the hallmarks of UW tradition. He sat on committees that established the university colours, coat of arms, graduation robes and the ceremonial convocation mace, which Eydt has carried at convocation ceremonies for many years. "It was remarkably exciting to be there as these decisions were made." One such decision was the search for UW's first chancellor. The faculty and administration had "great vision" in 1960 to approach Dana Porter, Ontario's Chief Justice, for the position, Eydt says. "The place was awfully small - two buildings and a few temporary ones - yet here we were going after a highly significant judge and former [Ontario] cabinet minister." Porter agreed and that summer conferred the first degrees on UW graduates. First convocation provided the first glimpse at the convocation committee's major decisions - gown designs for chairs and the president and colours for the arts, science and engineering faculties. The president's pale blue gown came about simply because of first president Dr. Gerald Hagey's preference. "He told us he looked good in pale blue, so that became the colour." The convocation committee would soon thereafter choose the red and green "Christmas tree" PhD gowns. Friendship-building was also a priority during the early days. Eydt smiles when he remembers parties thrown by faculty members, many of whom were young bachelors. "It was a very contented sort of life. Their were famous parties and everyone attended - secretaries, faculty, wives. It was only about 60 people, but that was everyone in the university." Students too built up close bonds with faculty and staff. On a small campus, with few places to meet and eat, Eydt remembers that all gathered together over coffee and lunch. "When you went to eat, we were all together, from Dr. Hagey down to the frosh." Eydt especially liked contact with students, a pleasure he's been able to maintain as a teacher (until eight years ago) and as warden of residences since July 1966. "I began here when I was 27-years-old. There wasn't anything remarkable about that - many of us were here teaching with only master's degrees. Because we were young, we could identify with students." Eydt's empathy for students translated into tireless efforts as a faculty adviser to many student clubs. As a bachelor professor with "nothing to do" at nights, he stuck around and helped these groups. "I was happy to help. The students were anxious to grow and learn, and because I wasn't really that far ahead of them in age, I had just gone through those awkward periods that they were going through. I could give them advice when they asked for it - or, if they misbehaved, if they didn't ask for it," he says with a laugh. What will he miss most about being warden? Predictably, it will be the contact with students: "It'll be hard not to have almost daily lunches with students and have contact with our 50 dons, who are student leaders of the first rank." He does hope to be invited back occasionally to "warden's dinners", annual events held - and inaugurated by Eydt - to praise the work of dons. "I expect to be invited on the guest list of retired people." It's a safe assumption that students also will miss Eydt, who often hears from former students years later. At various alumni functions, he has heard his encouraging words played back to him by appreciative former Villagers. "They come up to me and tell me, 'Whenever I get discouraged, I remember what you said at lunch when I was a frosh.' Of course I laugh and ask what I said, but I understand their point. Those sort of things are very flattering." Concern for alumni - at least half of whom he figures spent some time in residence - will translate into Eydt's increased involvement in the UW alumni organizations after retirement, he promises. He will also continue to serve as vice-chair of the Waterloo Public Library board and will become chair of the Kitchener-Waterloo Catholic Family Counselling Services committee. Getting involved with the AIDS Committee of Cambridge, Kitchener and Waterloo is also on the agenda, as are trips with his wife to Australia, New Zealand and Canada's high Arctic. "I have no intention of going home and sitting on my behind. I'm not ready to curl up my toes and die." He has faith that the university too will not curl up and die after the departure of one-eighth of the faculty and staff. "We are losing some very senior people, people with high academic criteria and lots of scholarship. But none of them had it when they got here, and we'll be hiring some junior people who'll be doing the same thing all over again." He appreciates that some departments will undergo wholesale restructuring, but thinks change may be good. "It's an opportune time to look at course calendars and ask if we need to offer 14 courses in fourth year. It's a time to consider what is important and what is not." A 15-per-cent cut in faculty and staff is painful but acceptable, especially if it is the last major cut for a while, he adds. "If the bottom line [to cut the provincial deficit] is that we've got to lose 20 per cent, why don't we do it all at one time, so that we can readjust and get into some balance by next year? It'd be terrible to go through all this bloodletting and then hear we have to lose another 10 per cent. "It seems to me that if you're going to have a leg off, it's better to take it off from the top rather than take the toes first and the rest of the foot next week." But possible further cuts aside, Eydt remains hopeful: "There's been a lot of good days, but for the new people coming there will be a lot of good days."