Monthly Archives: July 2025

Gene

The word “hero” rarely fits those you actually spend time with up close, but I use it often to describe Gene Logan. I have told Gene Logan stories to people all around the world.

Gene was somehow both tender hearted and tough as nails, and I loved and respected him deeply. At many times in my life, I made intentional decisions because I thought it was what Gene would do. I think they call that sort of person a role model. When it comes to Gene, I prefer hero.

Gene died yesterday. Although separated by miles and years, I feel the loss deep in my soul.

There are many stories, but the most dramatic come from our shared leadership experience in response to Hurricane Katrina twenty years ago. To me, Gene’s leadership was legendary, and I suspect the historic element of that natural disaster is why I associate Gene with the heroic.

It was Gene who said “let’s go” just hours after the worst of the storm had passed, and I followed him in the dark with a flashlight, defying curfew, climbing over rubble, smelling and hearing the gas from the ruptured main, searching for one of our church widows who had chosen to ride out the storm at home.

But the story that I have told the most, and the one that will forever be my living definition of leadership is something that he did unannounced, which was his leadership style. So many of us in our church community lost our homes, but Gene did not. His home was not far from our church’s building, which was our relief headquarters, and for those first few weeks after the devastation those of us who were freshly homeless bedded down on the floor each night alongside incredible volunteers who continually came to our rescue. One night I noticed that Gene was sleeping on the floor with the rest of us, too, and it occurred to me that not only did Gene have a perfectly fine bed a few blocks away, but he also had a bad back. If you knew Gene you would know that this is not the sort of observation that you share directly with him, so I went to his wife, Eileen, and wondered what he was thinking. Eileen said, “Oh, he said that he would not sleep in his bed until everyone in the church had a bed to sleep on.”

I get emotional thinking about that every time, but especially today. If ever a single action defined a person — defined a leader — defined a hero — that is it for me. How wonderful to have someone in the world that will be with you in your worst moments and refuses to leave your side until your worst moments have passed.

And how sad that the someone who showed that to me isn’t with us anymore. It is his turn to rest, although I can’t see that making him happy, but I trust that somehow his extraordinary love will be rewarded on whatever is on the other side of this life.

Thank you, Gene. For everything.

Impossible Shoes to Fill

“I’m the new dean of students at Ripon College” is a statement that has not been uttered in a quarter century, but I have permission to say it today. Yesterday, my friend and mentor, Chris Ogle, retired after an extraordinary forty-five year career (including the last twenty-five as dean of students), and it is an indescribable honor to be entrusted with the opportunity to carry on his legacy. 

Although I have only worked at Ripon College for a single year and am brand new to this particular role, I have served as dean of students at three previous institutions in three separate states, so it is familiar work. And the succession challenge is somewhat familiar, too: two of the three administrators that I succeeded went on in time to be college presidents, so I know what it feels like to crawl under the microscope. But I confess that following Dean Ogle feels like uncharted territory.

Chris Ogle graduated from Ripon College in 1980 (including and concluding a hall-of-fame athletics career) and immediately transitioned to a full time staff role. So if you do the math and include his four years as a college student, yesterday ended forty-nine consecutive years on campus for this legend. 

The longevity itself is extraordinary, but the person is even better. To know him is to love him. Nobody loves students more. Nobody is more disarming. Nobody tells better stories. Nobody has more historical knowledge. Nobody has more wisdom. Nobody is more beloved. Although he is not on social media, it was no surprise that the press release regarding his retirement generated hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of well-wishes and special comments of how he changed lives and inspired others. The press release also shared that the rotunda in the heart of campus would be named in his honor, so fitting for someone who represents the very heart of campus.

Imagine following someone like that.

Serving as the dean of students at a college or university is a unique experience. My wife once tried to explain the role by comparing it to a high school principal but at the college level. That’s a pretty solid analogy, but there is nothing exactly like it. You get to walk alongside so many impressive human beings at such a special time in their lives, which includes incredible high moments and devastating low moments. It is simultaneously beautiful and heavy work, and I absolutely love it. I know that Dean Ogle did, too.

I am prepared to tell my team and everyone that cares to know that the bad news is that there is only one Chris Ogle. The potential good news, however, I am honored to say, is that working together this past year revealed that we share a common vision for student affairs work, so I don’t think that there will be whiplash when it comes to leadership style. Regardless, a legend has retired, and we will do our best to carry on the work.

Today somehow feels both momentous and natural, mixed feelings in the very best of ways, leaving me in a good place both emotionally and quite literally. In fact, while knowing fully that I have impossible shoes to fill, in a certain sense it feels like my complicated past has somehow culminated in this special challenge at this special time in this special place.

So here we go. If you see me walking around campus wearing clown shoes, remember that I’m the clown; it’s just the size of the shoes that I am learning to navigate.