June 2001: Vol. 80, No. 3June 2001: Vol. 80, No. 3 |
 Dirr's master work, Manual of Woody Landscape Plants, has sold more than 300,000 copies. It's 1,187 pages long, exhaustingly researched—and annoying to some readers because Dirr is so judgmental. If he doesn't like a certain plant, he says so. |
by Courtney Leatherman
n entourage from the American Hydrangea Society is crammed into a leaky greenhouse at the University of Georgia—groupies waiting for one of the biggest names in horticulture: Michael A. Dirr.
Many of them are locals, like Penny McHenry (the Penny Mac hydrangea cultivar is named for her), and they've either met Dirr, taken his classes, or heard him speak. But today, a couple of first-timers are in the mix: Robin and Corrine Mallett, French experts on the hydrangea. They are the special guests of the society, but when Dirr finally hurries in—dressed in a baseball cap, rain slicker, and rumpled khakis—the two are beside themselves.
"Your book is my bible," Mallet confides, in a thick French accent. "He's like the Pope—you must kiss the ring."
Dirr isn't the kind of guy who wears a ring, much less wants it kissed. He is a horticulturist and, perhaps predictably, people describe him as down to earth.
But it's easy to fawn over Dirr. He is considered by many to be the most influential and respected expert on ornamental trees and shrubs in this country—and beyond, as the Malletts can attest.
This is Dirr's last semester teaching, but during his 29 years as a professor—first at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign and then at Georgia—he has won 20 awards for research, writing, and teaching from universities, garden clubs, and industry groups; he has trained more than 30 master's and doctoral students, and written more than 300 articles, along with seven books.
His masterwork, though, is a textbook—the Manual of Woody Landscape Plants: Their Identification, Ornamental Characteristics, Culture, Propagation and Uses—and the "bible" of which Mallett spoke. Now in its fifth edition, which runs more than 1,000 pages, the encyclopedic manual is described as one of the most widely adopted teaching and reference texts in the country. Dirr published the first edition in 1975.
"I was a desperate teacher at the University of Illinois—I had no textbook," he says, barely finishing the sentence, talking fast, as always. "I had students lugging around three books, and I started this template stuff with all the landscape uses, and bark texture, and all that crap, and that's how I lectured, because I had nothing to lecture from, either. And I thought, you know, this thing might actually make a pretty good book." So Dirr and a couple of graduate students worked with a local company, Stipes Publishing, to cut and paste together the book while his wife Bonnie drew the leaf, stem, and fruit illustrations. The first manual ran 552 pages and covered about 700 species, plus hundreds of cultivars.
Today, it still contains exhaustive descriptions of trees and shrubs—some 9,500 species—including their flowers, fruits, and pests. And this spring, he's releasing an interactive CD-ROM version of the text—with 1,200 of his own color photos—through a company he started, PlantAmerica.
Since 1975, Stipes has sold more than 300,000 copies of the manual. "You want a shovel and Dr. Dirr's book if you want to be a horticulturist," says Hillary Barber, a former student who works for PlantAmerica.
Former students and "hort heads" constantly quote Dirr; many describe him in reverential terms. At one meeting of nurserymen, for instance, the speaker asked the audience to pledge to uphold 10 principles of the business, ending the oath with "so help me Dirr."
Green thumb team: Dooley and Dirr hoisted shovels at dedication of new campus arboretum last year.
That kind of talk embarrasses Dirr. But the truth is, walk into any plant nursery in the country, mention Dirr and say you're looking for a plant he recommends—like Fothergilla gardenii—and you'll not only get the shrub, you'll get respect.
The adoration of Dirr and his book has as much to do with the wisdom, humor, and strongly worded opinions he includes in the manual as it does with his knowledge of plants.
"I forever remember reading his description of the flower buds on Cornus florida being shaped like Bonnie's biscuits," says Paul E. Cappiello, director of horticulture at Bernheim Arboretum in Clermont, Ky. Dirr's style "makes it less intimidating to students looking at 1,100 pages of Latin."
Dirr figures he's entitled to his opinions. Not only has he grown a lot of the trees and shrubs he writes about, but says, "I've got 5,000 miles—no, 5 million miles—on these feet looking at plants, and that's what I do day and night," he says. "Most of these guys read books."
So Dirr makes clear what he likes and doesn't like, what's a good plant or a bad plant—and that ruffles feathers.
"I use it all the time. It's a great book," says Peter Del Tredici, director of the live-plant collections at Harvard's Arnold Arboretum. "But it's a little annoying. It's judgmental." He's known Dirr since the professor's first sabbatical at the arboretum in 1979 and considers Dirr a good friend. Still, he says, "If he bad-mouths a plant, it sticks. And the plant may not deserve it."
A couple of the pariahs: Eastern cottonwood—"Impressive in river bottoms and should remain there." Bridalwreath spirea—"I really see no use for this plant in modern gardens; belongs in the 'over the hill gang.'"
The book is a big part of why Dirr is revered, but it's not the only reason. "He's as good a teacher as you're going to find," says Darrell Sparks, a former chairman of Georgia's horticulture department, who notes that Dirr received a university-wide teaching award this year.
Walk around with Dirr, and his popularity is immediately apparent. He is constantly interrupted by—and he also interrupts—students, current and former, graduate and undergraduate. He jokes around with some graduate students, then moves to a colleague's office, pulling in an undergraduate to brag about her work. Then it's off to talk to the hydrangea people, where he and a graduate student spend three hours showing them the greenhouses and test plots and handing out freebies. He joins them for lunch, skipping his noon-time racquetball game; stops off for a quick visit with Vince Dooley, the former Georgia football coach and a Dirr disciple; then heads off to his two-hour plant-materials class before gathering his wife and a couple of graduate students and taking off for Atlanta to sit in the audience with 100 hydrangea fanatics to hear the French hydrangea experts speak.
Bonnie Dirr calls this "a Dirr day," and cautions, "We're always the last to leave, because he has to talk to everyone." As if to prove it, a woman approaches and whispers, "Is it true? Is he retiring?"
Dirr is retiring, but he'll never stop teaching. Spend two days tooling around campus with him in his little red truck, and you'll learn about plants, whether you want to or not. You'll want to.
Driving fast—like he talks—it's clear Dirr is as proud of the plants he's nurtured here as he is of the students he's influenced. He pulls up short across the street from a big tree. "I gotta show you the elm."
The 70-foot-tall lacebark elm is nearly 50 years old. Its canopy is vase-shaped, expanding to provide lots of shade. But the real attraction is the trunk; it's sinewy, fluted. And the bark is mottled, flaking off to reveal patches of grays and browns and tans. It's like camouflage. Dirr spotted the tree as a seedling 25 years ago, recognized the good genes, and began propagating it. "I find a tree and I say, 'Wow, this looks like it has potential,' " he says. He named the cultivar allee—it's No. 25 on a loop of the campus arboretum. He led the effort to designate the campus as an arboretum, and helped dedicate it last year.
Back on the road, he points out lemony banks of blooming winter jasmine here, and there a Japanese apricot coming on, showing its peppermint-pink flowers. Finally, at the University of Georgia Botanical Garden, Dirr spots a tree with white blossoms streaked in pink and stops the truck. "Oh, look, look, Magnolia Z . . . oh wow, we gotta walk up to Magnolia Zenii, oh wow, wow, wow! Magnolia Zenii is out. Oh, all is right with the world, one of the first magnolias."
But all is not right with Dirr's world, which is part of the reason he's retiring at 57. He has always advised his graduate students that family comes first, and he is taking his own advice. His 24-year-old daughter, Suzanne, has cystic fibrosis and is awaiting a lung transplant. So Dirr and his wife and daughter are renting an apartment in Chapel Hill, N.C., to be near the hospital when a pair of lungs becomes available. When he finishes teaching his course this semester, it will be his last. He is negotiating with UGA to retain a 20 percent appointment so he can continue his plant-breeding programs. His colleagues tried to plan ahead for this, raising $400,000 for an endowed chair in Dirr's name. "The idea was to find someone like Dirr when he retires," says Sparks. "Well, we're not. The odds of finding someone like Dirr are slim."
Dirr doesn't dwell publicly on his decision and he hardly seems like someone who's about to throw in the towel—or trowel, as the case may be. And he's not. He's working on a book about viburnums, along with a second photographic book on woody plants. He's also used his own money to start a Web site, www.nobleplants.com, as a teaching aid for students and as a way to promote some of his plant introductions. "Somebody said, 'You're retiring? You sure got a lot going on.' " Dirr's response: "Why would you quit just before you retire? Why would you slow down?"
But enough of that. Back in the truck, zipping through the campus, he cocks his head to the left, gesturing toward a tree tucked away near a building. "Here's another Chinese elm seedling here. I kind of like that. Do you like that? I've got that one under wraps. Would you have even realized that was a Chinese elm if I hadn't pointed it out to you?"
Habitat workers committed to service
by Pat Curry
s a child, Laquesha Sanders developed a special attachment to her great-grandmother's place, which was one of the first two houses built by Habitat for Humanity volunteers in Broward County, Florida. Standing side by side, the small, sturdy structures were a sign of hope in a depressed area where nothing much good ever happened.
Fast-forward nearly two decades to the front porch of another Habitat home in the Stonehenge neighborhood west of Athens. Inside, a crew of volunteers is hanging heavy panels of sheetrock for the interior walls and ceiling. Outside, legs dangle from roof-high scaffolding, where more volunteers are installing vinyl siding.
Sanders' (at right) great-grandmother lived in a Habitat house. She now builds them for people like Fleming (at left), who has to pitch in herself with "sweat equity."
"This has been a central experience of my four years here," says Sanders, who is outgoing president of UGA's Habitat chapter and one of the University's top scholars. "I'm as proud of this organization as I would be of a child."
When construction is completed, UGA staff member Felicia Fleming and her two-year-old son will leave the cramped apartment they share with Fleming's sister and move into this three-bedroom house, which was built primarily by students.
Sanders came to UGA to study microbiology and history. A member of the University's top scholar group, the Foundation Fellows, the "Big Fellow" assigned to her as a mentor was Habitat president Robyn Painter, who created the partnership to fund the chapter's first house. Sanders has picked up where Painter left off. When she first got involved in Habitat, a regular meeting would draw 20-30 people. Now, the volunteer base—including organizations that help raise money—approaches 900. The first three houses built by the UGA chapter were financed completely by corporate sponsors. Today, students raise half of the $42,000 needed to build each house—and they have their sights set on paying for it all.
"It's hard to generate year-round money," says Sanders. "We're really working to motivate the campus to get behind Habitat like Relay for Life and Dance Marathon."
Faculty have a long tradition of involvement, both in the campus chapter and in Athens Area Habitat for Humanity. Sandra Whitney, associate director of the Honors Program, has been adviser to the campus chapter since its inception, and finance professor Marc Lipson has been a build supervisor on nearly every chapter-built house. The chair of the Athens affiliate is social work professor Maurice Daniels, who notes that the local affiliate relies on the UGA chapter for volunteers.
"Students are the centerpiece of building a home for a family each year," he says. "In addition, they do a tremendous job in terms of local publicity, fundraising, and providing volunteers for our projects. On all of those things, we work collaboratively to make it possible for additional families to have a safe, affordable, decent place to live. Without that partnership, we wouldn't be where we are."
Neither would Felicia Fleming and her little boy. She has been a custodian at UGA for six years. After work, she takes classes at Athens Tech, where she is studying secretarial science. She juggles work, school, and caring for an active toddler with the 300 hours of sweat equity she is required to contribute to the building of her house and other Habitat homes. All the hard work is worth it, she says, to give her son his own room and a yard to play in.
"I have to be strong for him," she says during a break from measuring and cutting sections of siding. "This is his life. All of this is for him."
For Sanders, who graduated in May, it's all about making an impact and saying thank you.
"This chapter is a source of pride and inspiration for UGA," she says. "It's an example of the high caliber of students UGA recruits and educates. We're an extension of the University and an example of the commitment to service, which is one of the three pillars of the Arch. It's a way of giving back to the community that's been our home for four years."
Suddenly, it's all happening . . . in the dorm
by Phil Williams (ABJ '72)
hen Michelle Garfield speaks about the value of a residential college, she knows what she's talking about. In her undergraduate days at Princeton, she lived in such a setting—where dedication to learning and immersion in culture didn't stop when she reached her residence hall door.
Now acting assistant dean in UGA's Franklin College of Arts and Sciences, Garfield will bring her past forward when she becomes the first residential dean for the Franklin Residential College, which will open in revamped Rutherford Hall in the Myers Community on South Campus this fall.
The FRC initiative, which was put together by housing director Jim Day and vice president for instruction Tom Dyer (with support from Arts & Sciences dean Wyatt Anderson), will open new opportunities for 80 women and 69 men in the Franklin College. Combining on-site faculty and novel opportunities for learning and cultural growth, the FRC is already generating student interest.
Garfield lived in a residential college at Princeton, making her the ideal person to serve as UGA's first "residential dean."
"I'm really looking forward to it," says Garfield, who will live right there in the Myers Community. "This is a way to make this large university feel small. We have so many resources here, but it's easy for students to feel lost, so it helps students benefit from those resources when we put them together in a setting like this."
The idea is retro, even if the technology isn't. Faculty members and students lived and learned together at UGA for much of the 19th century. The idea behind it all, says Dyer, is that small communities provide the best environment for learning and social growth.
"This is our first major attempt to bring faculty into the residence halls on a sustained and organized basis," says Dyer.
Chief among those faculty are the Franklin Fellows, beginning scholars hired by Arts and Sciences for one to three years to help them hone their teaching skills. Other prominent faculty from a variety of departments and majors also will be involved, along with Garfield, an advisor-in-residence, and student affairs professionals.
Although it has not been finalized, there may be a common dining area in nearby Snelling Hall that can be used by the residents.
The new Residential College is only one initiative that is changing the way students will look at UGA residence halls. Faculty-In-Residence Federica Goldoni from Romance Languages spent two years in an apartment in Soule Hall, an older residence hall that was completely renovated several years ago. Her responsibilities included bridging the gap between classroom and extracurricular activities, supplementing student development and achievement, and helping students better understand the world of academia.
Goldoni's position was the beginning of more elaborate plans being developed by the housing department and the Franklin College. Two wings of Mary Lyndon Hall have been converted into language-intensive living units, complete with space for 18 male and female residents, supported by a graduate assistant and a language computer lab on each wing (see March '01 issue of GM).
"We also now have academic assistance, advising, and cultural programs in Brumby and Creswell halls and they will soon move into Russell," says Dyer. "The benefits from all this are growing, and in some cases have been quite unexpected in a very productive way."
In addition, the Franklin College Student Concert Series offered ensembles as free entertainment in Reed and Brumby halls during fall semester; the series continued in Brumby and Creswell this spring. The housing department has also started a pilot VIP (Visiting In-house Professional) program that brings established professionals from fields of interest to UGA students to the residence halls for several evenings.
Sophomores, juniors, and seniors enrolled in Arts and Sciences are eligible to apply for the Franklin Residential College.
"We're going to know the students, their majors, and their interests," says Garfield. "We have 12 ongoing programs—from concerts to lectures—in the first year alone. So many students leave college with second thoughts, wishing they'd really gotten to know their professors. This new setting will help students realize their potential."
Jim Day agrees. "The discussion, investigation, and collaboration that has led to the establishment of the Franklin Residential College has been eivigorating," he says. "I have experienced a renewal, a strengthening of professional purpose as student affairs staff, faculty, and now students are coming together to develop a living/learning community of exceptional quality and value."