A Departure of Doyles

Above, the cheerful, efficient, personable, energetic Father Tom Doyle, C.S.C., who leaves The Bluff in June after five remarkable years as vice president, grinning ambassador-at-large, and beloved priest; Father Tom is being called back to the mother ship by the Congregation of Holy Cross, to be vice president for student affairs at Notre Dame. We do not have sufficient words for the respect and affection and admiration Tom earned here; his impact on fundraising and friendraising is incalculable; and the campus will have notably less salty dry wit without the young man from Colville, Washington.

At left, the exuberant, ebullient, gregarious, hilarious, generous, bellylaughacious, bell-toned Roger O. Doyle, who has graced the campus and the city and choirs and orchestras for nearly forty years, and who, unthinkably, retires this spring — but not before one last turn this June as conductor and domo of the wonderful Mock’s Crest summer light opera company he founded on The Bluff twenty years ago. (The final show is his favorite Gilbert & Sullivan ever: The Mikado.) The booming voice, the endless laughter, the oceanic charm, the incredible range of talents… the man has twice conducted the Irish National Choir, been president of the Portland classical music radio station KBPS, won the University’s Culligan Medal for superb service, conducted the city’s Choral Arts Ensemble, invented the annual Advent Concert in Saint Mary’s Cathedral, persuaded Aaron Copland to donate his scores to the University, sung with Barry Manilow, written beautifully about composers and musicians, taught thousands of students to sing, and never, that we can remember, lost his temper, his smile, his cool, his Irish cap, or his conviction that God blessed him above all men when He gave him the graceful pianist Kay for a bride. There are some men and women who are the University of Portland, in the end; whose gifts and grace become sweet chapters in the long story of the place and its dreams. Roger is one of these; so is Father Tom. There will always be holes where their grins used to be.

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