I started at SIU in 1982.  I took Deborah La Grasse’s Sculpture 202 class, where I cast my self-portrait in bronze.  I was looking for a work-study position at the foundry and Deborah told me I should talk to Tom and that I could find him at the Plaza Grill at 6:30 on any weekday, without fail.  So, early one morning, I went to the Plaza Grill.  As I walked through the door, I immediately spotted him – a serious looking man with a hat and a beard, exactly as Deborah had described.  He sat in a booth, absorbed in his newspaper.  I approached, and when he looked up at me over the pages, he simply asked, “What do you want?”  Doing my best to sound professional, I told him I was interested in the foundry work-study position.  He motioned for me to sit.  Nervous and more than a little intimidated, I did as he said.  Then, he asked, “What do you know about the foundry? And why would I hire someone like you – who knows little to nothing about it?”  I explained, step by step, how I had cast my self-portrait in bronze and that my professor had encouraged me to speak with him about the job.  He listened but seemed unconvinced. Finally, he said, “Ah look, if you work for nothing next semester and learn some skills, the job is yours.” Of course, I said yes.  And that’s how my lifelong love of bronze casting (and Tom!) began.  That moment at the Plaza Grill was just the beginning of the many unforgettable experiences I shared with Tom during my time at SIU and beyond.  There were the raucous, sometimes singing, nights at Jim’s Pub (Randy Walbridge did get us to sing different parts of Motown hits, pretty sure I didn’t dream that) and arguing with ceramics students about why sculpture was obviously better.  Not to mention the Cast in Carbondale exhibitions (and travelling to Knoxville, I sold my first major piece at that exhibition).  Road trips to visit graduate schools, life changing for me.  The chaos of driving a twenty-foot Ryder truck though NYC to pick up Tom’s work.  Professor Walsh commanded me to park, blocking assorted vehicles on a one-way street.  I wasn’t going to argue (too much).  Wild Halloweens.  Tom’s signature carbonara dinners, where Jimmy Gottuso always ate the most.  Pig roasts featured Tom’s “best limerick” contests that lasted well into the next day.  The ghosts that showed up at his retirement party.  The legendary Glove Factory, what else needs to be said? And of course, the Plaza Grill, where it all started.  The coffee was terrible, but refills were free.  Tom was more than a teacher – he was a mentor, a force, a legend.

Thank you, Tom.