Posted by Chuck Ewing on July 29, 2001:

January 1952. I was a plebe, bracing in dinner formation when Lew Mologne stepped in front of me. "I just checked your math grades, Mr. Ewing. You have any idea what integral calculus is about?" "No sir" I said, truthfully. "Well, you're not going to be with us very long at this rate. Have you been going to extra instruction?" "Yes sir." "Meet me in the sinks after dinner," he ordered. I had been turned out the first semester and squeaked through the turn-out exam, one of about 5 who passed it. The other 30 were gone. I started the second semester as the bottom man in the bottom (10th) section, and I was going under again. The math instructors who were running extra instruction after class weren't helping, so I was ready to try anything that might help. I felt guilty about stealing Lew's study time, but the stars on his collar proclaimed his ability to donate an hour or so a night to a basket case. I'm not sure whether he was the brightest man I ever knew, but he was the best teacher by far. I can't explain what he did, different from the many others who had tried, but by some magic, Lew Mologne turned a light on for me. In just two or three weeks, he gave me far more than a grasp of integral calculus; suddenly, plane and spherical trig, analytical geometry, differential calculus, all the rest of plebe math through which I had staggered, mystified, made sense. By April, I was in the second section. In June, at the recognition line-up, I scrambled over several people, reaching for Lew's hand. I never saw him again after he graduated. I never even met anyone who did, but without even asking, I know what kind of surgeon Lew Mologne was: supremely capable and totally selfless. He's still wearing stars on his collar. Chuck Ewing '55

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