Froderberg scholarship aims to recruit new students to Western
[ Editor's note: This article first appeared in The Insider from WWU Advancement. It is republished here with permission. ]
On October 22, 2015, Western Washington University lost one of its own when Al Froderberg passed away. The Albert J. Froderberg Memorial Scholarship Endowment Fund, established the following day with a $25,000 gift from David, ’84 and ‘86, and Denise Cole, and supported by Al’s wife, Mary, and their daughter, Annie Gallagher, will provide recruitment scholarships – with preference for Native American and Canadian First Nation freshmen – that may be renewed for their recipients’ sophomore year. It’s a posthumous honor that, Annie notes, would have been perceived as a double-edged sword by her father. “He was just so humble,” she says. “I think he would be really thrilled to know that the scholarship exists, what it stands for and the fact that it’s going to benefit students into the future. But he would have had a hard time knowing it was in his name. He didn’t like drawing that kind of attention to himself.”
The reality is that Albert John Froderberg’s life and career were woven inextricably into Western’s fabric – to many others’ significant benefit. His four decades at Western included roles as a beloved math teacher, astute lobbyist and fundraiser, wise leader and compassionate colleague, each position equally thoughtfully and intentionally held and fulfilled. A man of “quiet persistence,” as former WWU Trustee Phil Sharpe noted in a 2013 ceremony honoring Al, as well as a man of both humor and humanity – as his daughter-in-law, Renata Gallagher, wrote incisively in her Bellingham Herald obituary – Al exuded a balanced combination of loyalty, commitment, integrity and gentility, whether he was stepping in as the interim University president after the tragic 1987 loss of three top administrators – including then-president Robert Ross – or stewarding, over decades, what, during the Western Stands for Washington campaign, turned out to be the biggest gift in the University’s history.
“Al gave so much to so many,” says University Advancement Vice President Stephanie Bowers. “Alums tell me he was the best math teacher ever and because of that they were able to succeed in business. Past trustees say that when the historic plane crash took the lives of President Ross and VPs Cole and DeLille, Al held everyone and the University together as friend, comforter and acting president. Al was at the side of President Emerita Karen Morse in Olympia as they succeeded in bringing in capital funds for the entire “science row” – the chemistry, biology and SMATE buildings – during the 1990s. The Frasers, the Bowmans, Carroll Haeske, and so many other philanthropists all started their relationships with Western through Al Froderberg. Above all, Al knew how to strike a magical work-life balance: he taught me how to be a vice-president – and, on the waters surrounding the Queen Charlotte Islands, he taught me how to fish.”
Aside from his love of fishing – a sport he learned as a young boy from his maternal uncles on the banks of the Stillaguamish River – Al was known for his storytelling talent, his superhuman spelling capabilities, his copperplate handwriting and an ability to make a decision without, as wife Mary says, “dillydallying.” And his active and energetic engagement with higher education – for himself, on behalf of his students and on behalf of Western Washington University overall – remained paramount throughout his life.
“Al knew that you couldn’t get very far in life without an education, and he was extremely committed to it from early on,” says Mary, who was a fellow student with Al at Ballard High School and re-connected with him when they crossed paths as students at the University of Washington. “He was the only person in his extended family who went to university and he got three degrees! I admired him so much for that.” That that level of self-determination, direction and awareness came with bottomless levels of integrity only made Al’s impact on others all the more powerful. “You could trust what he said,” Mary adds. “He didn’t go back on his word. I want to say that I’ve lost my moral compass, but after living with him for 53 years, I guess I can know what he would do, what he might have thought.”
The scholarship in Al’s name offers an elegant, forward-looking symmetry, reflecting the spirit of a person who dedicated his career to making sure that future generations of students will have the opportunity for the education that he considered so important; now this scholarship will continue to generate that gift for others. It’s a highly appropriate acknowledgement and recognition, especially since Al thrived on his friendships and relationships. “His stories were never about him,” says Mary. “They were always about other people. He got such a kick out of people. Once he got going he would go on for hours and people would pay rapt attention. He was a real entertainer.”
And, as with anyone who knew him, she’s got Al stories of her own, including a funny, gentle one that encapsulates a half-century of a shared sense of humor and mutual respect: “I very, very rarely went out fishing with Al,” she says, recalling a five-day, fishing-free boating trip, just the two of them, among the San Juan Islands that was “just perfect. Al did love to fish. But I always thought, ‘Those poor fish!’ And Al didn’t want anyone in the boat who was rooting for the fish instead of for him.”