Thirty years ago, I was a graduate student at the University of Texas, mostly by default. I’d made a mess of my undergrad career before belatedly getting an English degree with no clear idea what to do next beyond trying to write. As part of my attempt to figure out a path, I went to grad school…
Thirty years ago, I was a graduate student at the University of Texas, mostly by default. I’d made a mess of my undergrad career before belatedly getting an English degree with no clear idea what to do next beyond trying to write. As part of my attempt to figure out a path, I went to grad school in journalism at UT -- where most of the professors were encouraging us to do our master's thesis on topics like designing computer programs to determine a story's “readability” by counting the number of syllables per paragraph (no, I am not making that up).
I had something a little more unusual in mind: A history of the Armadillo World Headquarters, the progressive-country music venue that was still a symbol of Austin years after it had been torn down. I started approaching professors about being my advisor, and they all reacted with puzzlement – until I asked Dr. Gene Burd, who totally got it.
Dr. Burd was…sort of the department weirdo. He was an eccentric fellow, no doubt; didn’t drive and referred to those who did as “carbarians.” He also had some fascinating and prescient opinions about urban growth, mass transit and livability. And he was a treasure trove of Austin cultural and political history, which made him perfect for my thesis. He enthusiastically endorsed the idea and went on to give me a great deal of help and insight as my primary advisor.
Even though the resulting thesis (windily titled “Music, Media and the Metropolis: The Case of Austin’s Armadillo World Headquarters”) kind of makes me cringe now, it was a crucial step in getting me on my way to becoming a writer. Some years after I graduated in 1985, I went back to visit Dr. Burd in his office while I was in town for South By Southwest. It had to have been at least a decade since we’d spoken; but when I walked in, he greeted me and began talking as if it had been just a few days since our last conversation.
Fast-forward to the present-day and Dr. Burd is retiring after 42 years of teaching. And in his honor, his students walked the two-and-a-half miles with him from his home to class today, his last day. Along the way, they posted pictures while he continued to teach, same as always. I wish I’d been able to do this with him, but it kind of feels like I was there. The very first stop they made was at the commemorative plaque where the Armadillo World Headquarters used to stand. Seeing this picture made me smile.
A fond salute to you, Dr. Burd. Of all the teachers I’ve ever had, I think I owe you the most..
A story I told on Facebook some years back.
Thirty years ago, I was a graduate student at the University of Texas, mostly by default. I’d made a mess of my undergrad career before belatedly getting an English degree with no clear idea what to do next beyond trying to write. As part of my attempt to figure out a path, I went to grad school in journalism at UT -- where most of the professors were encouraging us to do our master's thesis on topics like designing computer programs to determine a story's “readability” by counting the number of syllables per paragraph (no, I am not making that up).
I had something a little more unusual in mind: A history of the Armadillo World Headquarters, the progressive-country music venue that was still a symbol of Austin years after it had been torn down. I started approaching professors about being my advisor, and they all reacted with puzzlement – until I asked Dr. Gene Burd, who totally got it.
Dr. Burd was…sort of the department weirdo. He was an eccentric fellow, no doubt; didn’t drive and referred to those who did as “carbarians.” He also had some fascinating and prescient opinions about urban growth, mass transit and livability. And he was a treasure trove of Austin cultural and political history, which made him perfect for my thesis. He enthusiastically endorsed the idea and went on to give me a great deal of help and insight as my primary advisor.
Even though the resulting thesis (windily titled “Music, Media and the Metropolis: The Case of Austin’s Armadillo World Headquarters”) kind of makes me cringe now, it was a crucial step in getting me on my way to becoming a writer. Some years after I graduated in 1985, I went back to visit Dr. Burd in his office while I was in town for South By Southwest. It had to have been at least a decade since we’d spoken; but when I walked in, he greeted me and began talking as if it had been just a few days since our last conversation.
Fast-forward to the present-day and Dr. Burd is retiring after 42 years of teaching. And in his honor, his students walked the two-and-a-half miles with him from his home to class today, his last day. Along the way, they posted pictures while he continued to teach, same as always. I wish I’d been able to do this with him, but it kind of feels like I was there. The very first stop they made was at the commemorative plaque where the Armadillo World Headquarters used to stand. Seeing this picture made me smile.
A fond salute to you, Dr. Burd. Of all the teachers I’ve ever had, I think I owe you the most..