Reflection on Art Robinson by Harry West
By Harry West (PhD 67)
Out of the array of individuals who had significant influence in determining my destiny, Art Robinson clearly had the greatest impact.
Art served as my academic advisor during my graduate studies at the University of Illinois from the fall of 1963 until the summer of 1967. He was regarded by faculty members as a brilliant academician, and many students leaned on him when they encountered difficult analytic problems. A true scholar, Art could read German, French, Russian and Hebrew fluently; as a result, he simply knew more about a wide array of subjects than anyone in his cohort. His extraordinary wealth of knowledge worked to my advantage as he guided me through the challenges in my doctoral dissertation. But he was much more than a source of information for me. He was a superb advisor, consistently patient and available to guide me. He was also a great mentor who modeled how to navigate with excellence through the conflicting demands of academia. But above all, he was a kind and sensitive person who looked out for my welfare through some of the most trying times of my life.
Art had graduated in civil engineering from The Cooper Union in 1951 and therefore, as a civil engineering student, had spent four weeks at Cooper’s branch campus in Ringwood, New Jersey. This campus, known as Green Engineering Camp, was used in several ways: for a civil engineering summer surveying course, a two-week landscape painting course for art students, the orientation program for incoming students, and also for alumni gatherings. My father was the resident superintendent for the campus, and my family lived on the grounds. When I was a youngster, I hung out with the students when they were in residence, and that is how my interest in civil engineering developed. I noticed that in most group activities, an academically strong student would take the lead. I remember, when I was about twelve years old, one such student who had a pronounced speech impediment—a severe stutter. I never developed a relationship with him during his time in Ringwood—I didn’t even know his name. I could not, however, forget the difficulty with which he spoke.
When I arrived at the University of Illinois in September of 1963, I went through the normal orientation procedure and was assigned an academic advisor—Professor Arthur Robinson on the fourth floor of Engineering Hall. When I reported to his office to develop my course of study, he looked familiar, and when he greeted me with his characteristic speech problem, I then knew why I recognized him. It turned out that he remembered me as the “kid at the Ringwood camp”. We reminisced a bit about his and my days in Ringwood before mapping out the academic path that would control my life for the next several years. Mine would be a rigorous program of study. I was interested in structural analysis, which was Art’s specialty area, so in additional to a bevy of courses in my major of structural engineering, he recommended minors of study in mathematics and theoretical and applied mechanics. In addition, courses had to be scheduled in German and French, because at that time it was required that a doctoral student demonstrate the ability to read the literature in two foreign languages.
Initially I had very little contact with Art, because I was not in any of his classes, but eventually I was enrolled in his course in numerical methods. He had an interesting way of introducing himself to the class. It went something like this: “I am Professor Robinson, and as you’ve no doubt noticed, I stutter. You’ll get used to it just as I have.” One classmate remarked to me later: “It’s a good thing he stutters, because I could never keep up with him in class if he didn’t!” His point was well taken, because Art’s courses were substantive, and one had best come ready to learn. Art was always well prepared. His lectures were interesting and challenging, his pace was brisk, and there was no fluff. He always treated his students with respect, thoroughly answered their questions, and graded the assigned problems and exams with care, returning them in a timely way. He was truly professorial without condescending; he was intellectual but not arrogant; and he was a gentleman without any pretense.
My most intensive interaction with Art came after I passed my preliminary exam in the spring of 1965. This exam marked the end of course work and the beginning of the research phase related to the doctoral dissertation. My situation was somewhat unique. Most students were financially supported by a research grant and, therefore, their dissertation was related to the sponsored project to which they were assigned. Other students, such as military officers or those who were corporately sponsored, generally had their research focus dictated by their sponsor. I had my own financial support from a National Science Foundation Science Faculty Fellowship, a Ford Foundation Forgivable Loan, a stipend from Penn State as part of a graduate study leave of absence, and a small grant as part of the GI Bill. Therefore, I was free to select my own area of research based on my personal interests. That was easy for me—I was eager to study suspension bridges, a passionate interest of mine. Art had never done anything specifically related to suspension bridges, but it promised to be an exciting and challenging academic pursuit, and he was eager to advise me as we charted new territories together. It turned out that Dr. Nathan Newmark, Head of Civil Engineering, was knowledgeable regarding suspension bridges and had recently participated in a study involving earthquake loadings on the Golden Gate Bridge, so Art suggested that he be one of the members of my dissertation committee.
The title of my dissertation was A Re-Examination of the Theory of Suspension Bridges. As the research evolved, it expanded into a very energetic undertaking that embraced two separate methods of analysis, with comparisons between the results from the two approaches. One was a discrete formulation that required the solution of large numbers of simultaneous algebraic equations, whereas the other was a continuous formulation expressed in terms of differential equations. Since suspension bridges respond in a non-linear fashion to loading, the solution by either method required an incremental step-by-step approach. For the continuous formulation some very severe numerical problems were encountered in which the results became wildly divergent. This caused a major set-back in the project and a significant time delay in my progress, which threatened to compromise the entire project. This is the point at which Art came to the rescue with an ingenious scheme that controlled the divergence and rendered a solution possible. From this point on, there was a lot of work to do, but it eventually led to a successful dissertation. In fact, when the most challenging part of the research was published in the Journal of the Structures Division of the Proceedings of the American Society of Civil Engineers under the title Continuous Method of Suspension Bridge Analysis, Art and I received the 1970 ASCE Moisseiff Award for the best paper of the year.
That was not the only time that Art came through for me. Because of some of the difficulties that I encountered in my research, I fell behind on the schedule that would have enabled me to finish by June, 1966, when my funding would expire. Therefore, it was my plan to return to Penn State and finish my work in absentia. After I notified Art of my decision, I received word that Dr. Newmark wanted to see me. He questioned me about my plans, and when I told him that I planned to finish my work in absentia, he expressed concern. My recollection is that he said: “We have a large program here at Illinois, so the numbers are large enough to have statistical relevance. Of those who leave with only the dissertation to complete, only 50 percent will successfully finish their work.” I told him that I understood the difficulty, but I had no choice because I was running out of financial support. He queried me about what my financial needs were, and I told him the needed amount was $640 per month. At this point, he called in his secretary and told her to “draw up a contract for Harry for $640 per month.” He said he would find something for me to do. Eventually, I was given the title of “visiting instructor” and was engaged in teaching for the 1966-67 academic year. I assisted Professor Siess in the graduate-level concrete courses and team-taught an undergraduate honors section on structural analysis with Professor Hall. I subsequently learned that Art had talked to Dr. Newmark and set the stage for the assistance that came my way.
One additional way in which Art intervened for me was non-academic in nature. At just about the time when I was to begin work on the dissertation, my wife, Laurie, developed a serious medical problem. It reached its crisis before our son, Harry, was born, and persisted for several months after his birth. The distractions associated with Laurie’s situation had some effect on my ability to meet the obligations of my research in a timely way. Although it was our desire to handle this problem privately, I had to explain to Art what was going on. He was extremely understanding and compassionate. He even personally knew the doctor whose specialized skills God used to usher Laurie back to good health. Throughout this time, Art displayed genuine care for Laurie’s needs and understanding for the stress that engulfed me.
Art had a great sense of humor, and at times, he could be self-deprecating. Although he was always clear thinking and well organized in his work, his office was a mess. Heaps of papers and books were precariously stacked on every surface. Loosely piled material had sloughed off his desk onto the floor like a mound of sand reaching its angle of repose. The little pull-out surface at the corner of his desk was what he used when he had to write something, and on a separate stand he had a typewriter with which he prepared his hand-out materials for class. He once came to my office and requested something that I was unable to locate on my desk, which was a bit cluttered at the time. He sensed my embarrassment and put me at ease by saying that he certainly related to the problem of not being able to find an item on a desk that was in a state of disarray. I told him there were other attributes of his that I would choose to copy rather than a heaped-up desk. His response was: “With a little practice, you might learn to stutter.”
Once he knew of Laurie’s medical problem, Art always expressed interest in my family. When I finished my degree, he invited the two of us to his house for cocktails and then treated us to dinner. Later, we invited him to join us for a family picnic in a local park. Years afterward, when our family was heading west on a trip to California, we stopped in Urbana. Art assembled a group of faculty members who remembered me, and the group treated our family of four to lunch.
Originally from the New York City area, Art drove east each summer to visit family and friends. Having come to know us well, he always spent a night in State College. Although he preferred the privacy of a motel stay, he had on a couple of occasions stayed at our home. In some instances, he had dinner in our home, but more frequently Laurie and I joined him at a local restaurant. On the following morning, either Laurie prepared breakfast for the three of us or I’d join Art at The Waffle Shop before he departed for points east.
Art was unique. In spite of the encumbrance of a severe handicap, he carved out a niche in academia where his rare brilliance could be used to benefit generations of students. I’m sure I am only one of those who were redeemed by his sensitivity to academic and personal needs. Without his timely interventions on my behalf on several occasions, I most likely would have stumbled and never been able to succeed in the academic world that I came to love. I am forever grateful that God placed Art Robinson in my life.