John Kohne dropped out of Notre Dame late in the autumn of 1969, twelve credits shy of his chemical engineering degree. He traveled home to La Porte, Indiana, realizing as he walked in the door that he'd made a life-changing mistake.
Notre Dame’s parting gift to the Class of 2017 was a master class in civil discourse and civil disobedience, and the options available to well-educated men and women in a multicultural democracy.
Maybe boredom explains why we’re not paying attention to what’s happening right now with Social Security and Medicare, the subject of a lunch-hour presentation that accountancy professor Jeff Burks ’97 made on campus a few weeks ago. If so, it appears our indifference will cost us.
Before moving into his rental house in Seattle last year, Ben Wooley felt he needed to give his future housemates a warning. “Just so you know,” he told them, “I have a lot of instruments, and not all of them are going to fit in my room.”
Revolutions begin with the quiet decision and the small act. So picture this scene of would-be rebellion.
In 1720, Johann Sebastian Bach, 35 years old and still making a name for himself, still ascending to the heights of his powers as a composer, paid a visit to one of his heroes.
Try to pin Greg Bahnsen down and you may need to wait a while. When he isn’t casting metal and fashioning it into pipes at Paul Fritts’ organ workshop, he’s often thousands of feet up in the air.
A new organ adds another jewel to the Sacred Music program.
A long time ago in a research and development laboratory far, far away, Raphi Giangiulio made a little piece of cinematic history.
One day about halfway through his work as the main carpenter on the Notre Dame organ, Andreas Schonger wiped out while training for a mountain bike race and broke his collarbone. The accident was bad enough that firefighters had to carry him out of the forest.
Bone up on your organ knowledge; impress your friends.
Joe Green is a boat builder by trade. It’s inherently nomadic work that has taken him far away from home, building everything from historic fishing-boat replicas to rowing shells to the 42-foot motorsailers of the rich and famous — but there was always something missing. So now he builds organs for a living.
He was 20. How was it that no one was looking over his shoulder when he was drilling and burning holes in expensive oak that took hours to mark, for an instrument meant to outlive him by centuries?
When he was ready to start high school in 1993, his family moved across Puget Sound from Tacoma to a tiny logging town called Shelton. It sure didn’t feel like it at the time, but for McLeod, now 37, teenage exile would turn out to be one of the best career moves of his life.
Whether art, artifact or architecture, Jack Simmerling ’57 spent his life creating and capturing the beauty he saw around him.
It’s here. It took ten years of planning, nail-biting and hopeful angst at Notre Dame; three-and-a-half years of designing, pipe casting and precision carpentry at the Paul Fritts workshop in Tacoma, Washington; and a cross-country journey of some 2,100 miles spanning three time zones and the Continental Divide. Now, at last, the Murdy Family Organ has reached its permanent home inside the Basilica of the Sacred Heart.
Sometime earlier this year when we were planning our Fun issue, editor Kerry Temple ’74 smiled and said “Clowns.” But how do you find a real, live clown among the 150,000-plus alumni in the Notre Dame family?
As summer travel plans go, you could hardly beat the itinerary laid out before the Notre Dame Folk Choir this year. Just don’t call them tourists.
A 16th century book — and a tall tale worthy of a Mississippi riverboat — go under the microscope.
Andrew McShane rounded the corner in front of the altar of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart and sized up the cacophony in the choir loft: Drills wheezing. Socket wrenches clicking. Wisecracks flying. Workmen calling down from vanishing tiers of organ pipes that still rose three and four stories above the church floor.
If New England cows can jump start Haiti’s energy future, an enlightening couple will make the connection.
The sendoff was uneventful, with no announcement or fanfare. The music would speak for itself.
The Carrot Barn is a busy produce market and country store that’s about as pleasant a place to eat lunch as any you might imagine. It’s hard to imagine it as either a disaster recovery center or — in the blue skies and breezy heat of summer — the backdrop of a heartwarming Christmas tale but, four years ago, that’s what it became.
The story begins with a simple act of kindness.
I’m wary of parachute journalism, the practice of dropping a writer into a story without prior expertise. Columbia Journalism Review assures me parachuting is okay, as long as my own ruck is “packed with research.” So I picked up Farewell, Fred Voodoo, journalist Amy Wilentz’s 2013 “letter from Haiti,” which I took to be my best bet for getting to know this extraordinary country a little better in 310 pages or less.
Paul Fritts & Company Organ Builders is one of a handful of shops in the United States capable of making mechanical action pipe organs as good as anything Bach ever played. With 70 stops and 5,164 pipes, rising to the height of a four-story building, the organ the company installs next year in the Basilica of the Sacred Heart will be the largest and grandest instrument it has produced since 1979, when the 28-year-old Fritts took over his father’s small business.
So, what will it all look like, this impressive instrument and its fortified perch, once they’re built and installed in the south end of the Basilica of the Sacred Heart? We don’t know.
If you’ve ever wondered — as I have — whether emailed requests are ever literally prayed at the Grotto, let me be your witness: They are.
A heartbreaking loss…. a moment in the sun…. a disfiguring disease in the crosshairs.
Each spring, the Morrissey Medallion Hunt dispatches campus scavengers to find a wee wooden wafer tucked away in some hidden-in-plain-sight corner of the University. Could you have found it this year?