Daniel Jordan

I met Doug some years ago. I was a student in an
iron class he gave at Penland built around the idea
of the circle. That concept typified Doug's orientation
as a teacher. He loved teaching. He abhored
dogmatism. He encouraged each of us to
expand our horizons and experiment.

I was quite a bit older than Doug and that
allowed for a little different relation than
is usual between teacher and student. Doug
was delighted when he learned that
I had started out as a union organizer and
was working at the time of the class
as a union lawyer. My background appealed
to his working class sensibilities and
he and my wife ( who is also a union person)
got together both at that class and
at other ABANA conferences and other events
where we happened to be and sang
union songs, working songs, and folk songs
accompanied by beer and good fellowship.
Frequently Bonnie was in on these events.
We were terribly saddened to learn of Doug's
illness when we arrived at the ABANA conference
in Seattle in 2006. Now we are further
saddened by Doug's death and can only convey
to Bonnie our profound sadness and
offer our condolence at the passing of this lovely man.

Chet Ross

I first met Doug in 1975 while interviewing for my first teaching position
at Drake University. I had little experience as a designer and absolutely
no experience as a teacher other than one semester as a teaching
assistant doing an intro course in foundation design. I remember very
little about the interview except for my encounter with Doug. He essentially
said he liked me for the job I was interviewing for — teaching interior
design in the Art Department. When I asked Doug why he thought I would
fit the position his answer has always stayed with me: “It’s obvious.
Anyone who could drive a tank and lead an infantry platoon in Vietnam
can certainly do well at this job despite having no teaching experience”.
When I mentioned that I failed to see the connection between my military
experiences and teaching in the Fine Arts College, he said, “You have
done many different and demanding things for such a young person
(I was 26), and you seem to continually demonstrate that you not only
can survive, but you also do very well at whatever you manage to get
yourself involved with, so teaching should be a snap for you”.

For me it was a simple yet a profound reply – an answer based on
seeing things in terms of black and white rather than in gray scale.
His answer had always been in my head and played a significant
role in my growth as an educator and designer. Quite simply, I have
never been afraid to tackle new challenges. On several occasions
when I had been confronted with making decisions that would
potentially cause major changes in my life, I simply thought of Doug’s
comments and moved forward to the next endeavor. I am certain
Doug never realized it, but he opened a big door for me – a door to
self-confidence that enabled me to accept varying tasks with little
knowledge of how I would manage – but I always did.

I also remember well the gathering at Doug’s house shortly before
Doug and Lee’s departure from Des Moines – Randy Long mentioned
this gathering in her thoughts. We drank good beer, smoked the funny
weed and did “finger dips” in very hot Thai hot sauce to see who could
take the heat and who could do the most finger dips. We laughed so
hard we cried – Doug and I both commented that the muscles behind
our heads were hurting as the tears from laughter rolled down our
cheeks (or was it from the hot sauce).

Doug was a great human being with a lot of common sense. He had
a wonderful sense of humor and was a gifted craftsman and artist.
I also found Doug to be a humble and shy person. Despite the fact
that our paths rarely crossed since my departure from Drake University,
I often thought of he and Bonnie and will continue to do so. I also cherish
the piece of his art work he gave me as a fair well gift. It has always
commanded a special place in my home, and will always provoke
memories of Doug and his sense of humor, his wisdoms, his craft
and the many ways our brief encounter influenced my life forever.