PSU Magazine Winter 1999

hat do you have to do to get a uilding christened after you? Last fall, when Portland State re-named Harrison Hall after George C. Hoffmann, it was honoring a man who did much more than head up social sciences for 35 years, remark– able as such a tenure was. Far more important, Hoffmann, who died in 1989, worked over many years to help give PSU its landmark identity as an urban university. PSU's School of Business Administration, Graduate School of Social Work, and College of Urban and Public Affairs all had their origins on his watch - and with his active encouragement, according to Michael Reardon, University provost. He also argued strongly for the creation of the program in Administration of Justice. "Hoffmann not only made a major contribution toward the development of programs in social sciences but helped lay the groundwork for these individual schools and colleges," he says. "It's hard to imagine the University today without his dedica– tion and vision." offmann was easy-going and popular with every– one he worked with– students, colleagues, and admin– istration, Reardon says. "Two things ·stand out about his character. The first was his commitment to build strong 10 PSU MAGAZINE WINTER 1999 academic programs, the second his incredible civility." Toward both students and faculty, Hoffmann had a fundamental sense of politeness, he says. "He was courteous, attentive, and genuinely concerned with other people." Others who worked with him agree. "Everyone referred to him as a gentle– man," says Pat Stenaros, his former office administrator. "He would always take the time to listen, and people felt comfortable coming in to talk to him." "He was one of the most decent human beings that I have been privi- leged to know, a man of tremendous humanity," says Thom Armstrong, who took classes from Hoffmann in the '70s and knew him for many years. "He exuded passion for his discipline and for Portland State." Though he was genial by nature, he could lash out when he felt the University was under unjust attack, as happened when PSU suffered massive budget cuts in the '70s. "A university is a tremendously important institution and does more than just store knowledge," he said in a Vanguard interview. "It is a transmit– ter of knowledge, and when you damage this institution, you damage something damned important." "I don't want to see this University become a Portland Tech, but at this rate it will become nothing but a training facility," he went on. "We'll have lots of people highly trained in keeping accounts straight and building bridges. Now, these are talents I respect, but when these people go home they won't know what to do with themselves except sit in front of the damned idiot box. That's why we attempt to give people a background in subjects like history and literature and anthropology." Hoffmann used to attribute his own success at PSU with being at the right place at the right time, says Charles White, professor emeritus of history. "He really appreciated his position and considered it an honor to serve the University." e was hired in 1946 when the University got its start at Vanport as an extension center for returning Gls. He was in military uniform when he applied for a job, and he later quipped that "his uniform with the insignia of Navy Lieutenant Commander and his lovely wife, a former model who accompanied him to the interview, landed the job for him," according to an account by the late Stephen Epler, Vanport founder. More than 50 years later, Bill Lemman, a former PSU administrator, recalls taking a history class from Hoffmann. "I sat in his classroom in 1946 daring him to make a year-long