I noticed the muttonchops first. From across the Grad Club, a diminutive round-headed man waved me over to the empty barstool to his right. Somehow, despite his white cravat, standing collar and knee-length cassock, he went unnoticed by the crowd.
“Bishop Isaac Hellmuth,” he said. Before I could introduce myself, he continued. “Let me ask you something, son. You’re plugged into the goings on here at the university.”
“No, sir, I am really not that ….”
“I understand we’re making some changes.”
“Yes, sir. First off, perhaps you noticed we dropped the Tower Logo.”
“Good. Never cared much for modern architecture anyway.”
“And we went back to a modified shield plucked from the traditional coat of arms.”
“Like U of T?”
“Like a lot of places, sir. We prefer to think like Western once was. Lots of folks weighed in on this one, so it was a team effort.”
Hellmuth wasn’t asking anything unexpected. That’s what happens when you work in a community based on tough questions and dissected answers. That’s what makes this place fun. In fact, I think those closely connected to the process have been bracing for pithy reactions. How could they not, after investing months of their lives in this process.
Gotta say, I remain impressed how we got to this point.
From June to December 2011, the university involved faculty, staff, students, alumni and friends worldwide in a discussion about Western’s visual identity. They conducted online and in-person surveys, workshops and individual interviews with more than 10,000 members of the university community.
It was a massive undertaking by all involved, perhaps the largest consultation process of its kind by this university. And while thousands were not included, the process was an amazing undertaking that included a large, varied size. A round of applause to all who managed this.
But everyone can be a critic, and seemingly none more so then a century-dead founder.
“Oh, and we changed the name, or at least the name we refer to ourselves as,” I continued.
“I know a little something about changing one’s name. Done it a time or two myself. What did you go with? Now, don’t go an embarrass me and say you named it Hellmuth University.”
“Well, didn’t change it per se. We, sort of, rolled it back to …”
“Hell U., now that has a nice ring.”
“… Western University.”
“You know, I founded a place called ‘Western University.’ Guess I was onto something.”
“Indeed. Seems no matter how many times we changed it – and we did a few times – we never shook the name. People always called the place ‘Western.’ So why fight it?”
“And you paid how much for someone to tell you something I took care of more than 130 years ago?”
“Well, sir, you see there is more to it than that …”
OK, I expected that one. Anytime something new gets rolled out, especially if it cost more than $9.99, people gravitate to the negative. I know I do. It’s simply more fun. Would you rather read a glowing film review, or one of those biting treatises questioning the director’s sobriety? Do you like stories about government efficiencies or government waste? Me, too.
Lost in all the hoopla, instant pundit praise and nitpicking sure to surface today, is how we got here. Don’t forget, this was truly a team effort. And on a university campus, as Western president Amit Chakma mentioned in an interview earlier this week, the process can be as important as the end result. I see that here.
Do I love everything? No. I wanted to see a bolder name change to shake our ‘regionalness’. Given that, however, I love we landed on a visual identity quintessentially Western – conservative, classy and clear. Who could ask for more?
Nobody involved in a process like this gets it all. And that’s the neat thing about it. While nobody got all they personally wanted, the university got what we needed. And the ‘us’ will be the big winner in the long run.
“One last question,” Hellmuth said rising to leave.
“Yes, sir?”
“What’s the deal with Ivey?”