"At Precisely The Right Time."

"We were there at precisely the right time," so Alice Hansen told me recently, reflecting upon our years at Rockford College.

Randi Williams had written me, "Who would have imagined it would be a privileged time… I only wish I had been more wide awake working the slide projector in Art History so I could have fully appreciated the beauty those Coke bottle-bottom glasses enabled Philip Dedrick to see."

~Randi & Mr. Adair~

I think back to sitting in his apartment reading exam papers out loud to make it easier on his eyes. Discussing my growing appreciation for classical music, P.D. saying he had been in the audience in England while Sir Adrian Boult conducted the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams. That he had met the mystery writer Josephine Tey. Telling stories (doing all the voices) from old radio shows. His fascination for Edith Sitwell’s eccentric musical forays. His annoying habit of leaving you stranded in the living room for what seemed countless hours while he spoke on the phone in the kitchen which always (unfortunately) rang.

Donna McClusky dragged a prop chair from the drawing studio into ceramics and sat knitting to keep me company late into the night while I finished my first really grand sculpture: St. Michael battling the dragon at the end of the world (when completed I sighed to myself, thinking, I could die now... a few years after graduation it was accidentally destroyed).

Lou Petritz discovered a baree in the snow, washed it, happily wore it until I told him who it belonged to. Returning it to the proper owner, Lou would afterward refer to P.D. laughingly as “The Grey Fox”.

~P.D. & Friends Circa 1949~

Befriending Lou's mother who let me stay with her during holidays... eventually bringing this lovely and sweet woman into the Dedrick circle and enjoying many meals together with Mrs. Petriz addressing him cordially as "The Professor."

~Judy Petritz~
Photo courtesy of Anthony Louis Petritz

Mr. Dedrick cursing, “Oh Juno!” His fluttering gestures of pleasure accompanied by, “Absolutely delightful!” When things went wrong his lips would turn down and he’d mutter, “It was positively grim,” or widen his hands in exasperation saying, “It was a complete swivet!”

By 1976 it was coming to an end. Graduation was ahead as was my senior show. The glass cases and walls of Clark Arts' second floor promenade would display my work and I had planned a surprise for Bo-Bo... not knowing that he would in return surprise me.

I had come to Rockford with a proclivity in creating scratch-board drawings… I learned about pencils… discovered how to make sculpture in clay (that did not blow up in the firing), had developed some small ability with photography- mostly for reference to my other work, and found a bevy of willing youngsters ready to be immortalized.

 I learned the value of knowing about the art that came before me... not just names and dates... but the motivations, the philosophies, the struggles, and the wounds to the soul that drove mankind to create.

My exhibit opened and my classmates who modeled for me, suddenly shy, lurked behind pillars or in the shadows. When P.D. came through the door he looked around and announced, “This is very much like the college year book… except no one is wearing any clothes.”

Elaine Nofsinger who modeled for me was there… as was her mother. This made me very nervous because I had been informed that mom did NOT approve of her daughter’s association with the arts, so to speak. But knock me over with the biggest feather when it turned out that she actually purchased a nude of her daughter- it was framed behind glass and displayed at the family home for years, so I was told. Elaine said recently, amused, “You could spot it on the wall just behind group family photos.” Art Dessureau emailed that one of my drawings of him had been framed on the wall for over twenty years.

My portrait of Bo-Bo waited for him. I had been approached by many requesting its purchase but planned all along that it would be a gift to my art professor. Soon he spotted the drawing and bent in close. “My stars! I always thought I looked more like Tony Curtis!” he exclaimed.

Inspecting the rest of my work he stopped at another portrait: a rather unrefined and hasty pencil study. He knew the history...

Eyes resting on the drawing for a short eternity, P.D. observed quietly, "This is as much a portrait of you."

Soon classes would come to an end. The studios would be cleaned. Sketch books retrieved. Drawers and lockers emptied. People with whom I had spent three years of my life would, for the most part, fade away. Yet time would reveal an enigmatic bond created in this enigmatic place.

I was headed for Minneapolis where I would attempt to be an adult… and follow my path... the only path I was meant to follow. But not alone. In one manner or another Philip Dedrick would be there. I would continue to learn about life from this man in the years to come. "What do you do when you find yourself repeating the same mistakes over and over again?" I had asked. He answered, "I tip my hat and say 'Hello old friend'".

One rainy night I had received a phone call in my dorm room. Bo-Bo had just begun to wear contact lenses and had lost one in his eye. "I’ll be right over", I said, but no, he would come to me. It was very unusual for him to ask for a favor. With a nervous finger I poked about a single eye. Afterward we strolled across the campus together. A damp mist within the dark was illuminated by halos of yellow lamp lights. I don’t remember the conversation but abruptly he linked his arm with mine and time seemed to melt away. We were like two Edwardian gentlemen taking in the midnight air. He insisted on leaving me at the college gate, returning to his apartment on his own. I stood and watched for a very long time, watched him grow smaller, dimmer, and finally disappear into the grainy dark.