Profiles

Don Anderson '58
Recapturing Frank Sinatra

Entertainer Vic Damone once said, "There will never be another Frank Sinatra. He is all by himself, with what he has done with his life as a performer and as a man." Perhaps Damone spoke too soon, because Ol' Blue Eyes is back reincarnated, if you will, into the body of the Reverend Don Anderson '58, a part-time Methodist minister, among other trades. Some karma.

But Anderson takes his impersonating, a newfound hobby, only so far. "You don't get the real Sinatra," he says, referring to "the hood," the bully, the gangster, the womanizer. "He had an attitude." Instead, Anderson explains, "I try to create the illusion of a Sinatra. I hope I'm more likeable."

Apparently his strategy works. With about fifty shows already behind him, Anderson's popularity as a Sinatra impersonator is growing, earning him a reputation that began with an evening of karaoke. Anderson had only two artists to choose from as he stepped up to the microphone that night: Perry Como, with a mere four songs available, and Sinatra, with about thirty.

In this case, majority ruled, although Anderson says, "I had always enjoyed Sinatra's music and been a strong fan." He recalls how the emcee praised his rendition of Sinatra's "My Way," calling it "one of the best sober karaoke acts" he had ever heard. A star was born again.

Anderson booked his first major appearance at Pittsburgh's First Night celebration on New Year's Eve in 2001. Since then he has performed at a variety of venues, including country clubs, Borders bookstores, private parties, and reunions.

"When Anderson sings," says Craig Cody, managing director of Pittsburgh's First Night, "he has an amazing resemblance to Sinatra." But singing Sinatra tunes, Anderson's favorites are "My Way" and "New York, New York", is only part of his gig. To deliver what he calls "the illusion of a Sinatra," usually in one hour with about fifteen songs, he wears a tuxedo, styles his hair like Sinatra's, plays Nelson Riddle and Don Costa CDs to reproduce Sinatra's big band sound, and even borrows some of Sinatra's trademark moves.

"There's a nice style to the way Sinatra presents a tune. He's kind of a singing conversationalist," says Anderson. "I've watched tapes and I've tried to imitate his gestures, movements, and facial expressions. It's a matter of enjoying the music."

After his high school days as a baritone, Anderson demonstrated his love for music as a tenor in the Allegheny Singers under the direction of Morten Luvaas. Anderson has since performed in several musical comedies and revues and has also made other solo appearances, with an emphasis on show tunes.

An English major at the College, Anderson has retired as a senior high school English teacher. He has worked in advertising in the Pittsburgh area, where he serves as a part-time Methodist minister, and has been an active member of the College's Alumni Association for twenty years. He lives in Moundsville, West Virginia, with his wife, the Reverend Patricia Bentley, whom he married on May 4. He has five children and five grandchildren from a previous marriage.

It appears, then, as though Anderson has proven Damone wrong. Although he chooses, wisely, not to bring all of Ol' Blue Eyes back to life, Anderson, like Sinatra the singer, the actor, the philanthropist, is an accomplished man of many talents. "The common thread here is performance, in different venues for different reasons," says Anderson. "My spirit is a performing spirit. I think God has given me a wonderful sense of expression. As a singer, actor, and preacher, these skills come out. It's been a wonderful ride."

-Abby Collier '03

M. Roy Wilson '76
A Clearer Vision

M. Roy Wilson '76 has a string of accolades and appointments that would impress the best in his field. A renowned ophthalmologist, researcher, and academician, he is currently vice president of health sciences at Creighton University and dean of the School of Medicine. He has been listed in Best Doctors in America for the past five years and was named one of the top three ophthalmologists in Omaha. In addition to his B.S. from Allegheny, he has an M.D. from Harvard Medical School and an M.S. from the University of California, Los Angeles. He was a full professor at two universities-UCLA and Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science before he was 40. His 42-page curriculum vitae lists dozens of appointments and consultancies, scores of publications, and multiple honors.

"I've had a lot of individual awards," he admits. "But none of them mean as much to me as seeing minority students . . . turn out to be excellent physicians and ophthalmologists." Wilson has guided countless young people to medical careers, accepting them into programs that might otherwise have rejected them. "A lot of times we had to look a lot deeper than their grades and test scores," he says. "We had to look deeper into who they were as people." Wilson's insights led him to encourage students who validated his faith in them over and over again. "They're just fantastic people who are fantastic doctors and ophthalmologists, making a big impact in their communities," he says. "My proudest accomplishment is being able to see these people throughout the country and know that I had some impact in terms of their careers."

Wilson began his education intending to become a psychiatrist. Intrigued by the work of Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung, he enrolled in psych classes at Allegheny only to discover a field saturated with behavioral theory, an area that did not interest him. He shifted gears to study pre-med. At Harvard, an interest in epidemiology led to a project involving glaucoma data, and he quickly became an expert in the fledgling field.

He continued to be a leader in the field when his population study in St. Lucia proved what some ophthalmologists had already suspected: Blacks are at a higher risk for glaucoma. Because of his findings, says Wilson, "Blacks are receiving better treatment for this disease than they used to . . . More people are being treated, and treated more aggressively than in the past." The project led to his interest in international ophthalmology, and he went to Cameroon to investigate eye disease and vitamin deficiency there. Again, his work resulted in action: policy-makers paid attention, and changes were made to benefit the public health.

Wilson's best memories of Allegheny involve the professors with whom he developed close relationships. His favorite was philosophy professor Jim Sheridan '50, who took the young Wilson far beyond the hard sciences with many involved, one-on-one conversations about fundamental beliefs and esoteric thinking. He also remembers visiting English professor Al Kern in his home, and becoming friends with biology professor Eugene Chapman. "Allegheny is a small enough place that I was able to form some important friendships," he says.

As a minority student in the 1970s, though, he sometimes felt "out of step," and he strives now to nurture a culturally sensitive environment at Creighton. He created a high-level position to deal with the issues specific to non-mainstream students, and now an associate vice president of multicultural and community affairs addresses racial sensitivity, retention issues, and community impact. Responsible for several schools and departments within the Creighton Health Sciences program, Wilson also finds time for research and sees patients a half day a week. But his heart is in encouraging young people to succeed in a field he has embraced on so many levels. "Along the way, people have taken chances on me," he remembers. "So I try to do that for other people."

-Virginia Myers Kelly

Michelle Henry '91
For the Prosecution

When people are young say, in middle school they tend toward a sense of justice that is uncomplicated, righteous, and pure. Some people are lucky enough to hang onto that conviction. Michelle Henry, a specialized prosecutor for Pennsylvania's Bucks County district attorney's office, is one of them. "I knew I wanted to do this at a very young age," says Henry, whose early ambition was not just to become a lawyer but to become a prosecuting attorney. Never attracted by the high-end salaries attached to some corporate fees, she says she was after "that sense of doing the right thing" and "playing by the rules."

As a specialist in child abuse cases, Henry knows that doing the right thing can mean saving a child's life. The sexual and physical abuse suffered by children is "horrendous," she says, but as difficult and emotionally challenging as the testimony and evidence may be, she finds the work rewarding. "To take somebody from the torture they've seen and bring them a sense of justice" is the heart of her life's work. "What keeps me going is the belief that you can make a difference, and you can make it better." She believes in the United States judicial system, she says, and has faith that it works most of the time. And when things get snagged, because of missing evidence or difficult decisions from juries and judges, Henry says the frustration only inspires her to roll up her sleeves and work on the next case.

As a student at Allegheny, Henry majored in communication arts with a focus on public speaking. The College's liberal arts education was the best preparation for law school she could have had, she says. She earned her law degree at Widener University's Harrisburg branch, then clerked for a year under a Lancaster County judge. From there, she went to the Bucks County district attorney's office, and in 1998 she became head of child abuse prosecution.

"Allegheny was a good springboard for law school," she says, citing her Senior Comprehensive Project in particular. The project, a rhetorical analysis of Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton, still inspires her; she found that despite the two women's similar stature in the fledgling world of women's rights, it is Susan B. Anthony who is remembered. Anthony was the better orator, and more comfortable in front of crowds.

Henry is also an effective speaker, and loves the showmanship required of trial lawyers. She says that at her first jury trial she remembers thinking, "Oh, my God! It's better than TV!" She still gets excited about going to trial. "It never goes away," she says. "After you've put your heart and soul into a case, and the jury stands up and says, 'Guilty' there is no rush like that." And, though she sometimes works ten- and twelve-hour days, the work is everything she hoped it would be, she says. "It truly has lived up to and exceeded my expectations."

-Virginia Myers Kelly