When I arrived as a freshman at Notre Dame in 1980, it was the
first time I'd been away from my parents. Having lived in Hawaii
all my life, my contact with the mainland United States was minimal;
Disneyland at age 10 was it. I saw snow only on TV. South Bend,
Indiana, was as foreign to me as most Midwesterners would consider
Hawaii's culture and customs to be. I was definitely a fish out
of water.
I met Professor George Viger (pronounced vee-jay)
in 1981 during my second semester. I was having trouble with my
grades, and taking a required accounting course by a professor
called "Easy A V-Jay" seemed like a good way to get my GPA up.
He was tall, lean and soft-spoken -- so much so that I had a hard
time hearing him in class. We all did. It was a good way to get
his students to really pay attention. You had to sit in front
and lean forward so you wouldn't miss anything. I remember he
always wore a coat and tie. He also wore those glasses that would
darken in the light and vice versa. Even given his nickname, I
struggled with his class.
When I met Professor Viger at his office to get some help, I
was nervous. His easy-going demeanor immediately put me at ease.
After he explained some basic accounting concepts, we talked about
Hawaii. He loved Hawaii. While flying for the military, he had
been stationed in Oahu. We talked about familiar locations like
Diamond Head, Waikiki and Manoa Valley. He then did something
that changed my perspective of being a student at Notre Dame and
our relationship as professor and student: He asked me to join
him and his wife, Jane, for dinner.
In all my years of schooling, I had never entered into the inner
sanctum of my teachers' lives to join them for dinner. As a freshman
I heard stories of professors like Emil T. Hofman, Notre Dame's
famous chemistry teacher, doing this, but only as gossip. What
teacher invited their students to dinner? It was virtually unheard
of. As I look back, this was a defining moment.
It was cold that afternoon. Professor and Mrs. Viger picked
me up at 5 p.m. in a new tan Cadillac Seville. Later I found that
they always like to eat early to avoid the crowds. I wore my father's
coat and tie and carried a bouquet of spring flowers for his wife.
Mrs. Jane Viger stood all of 5 feet tall and weighed no more than
90 pounds with her purse. She wore a classy dress, and you could
tell she'd had her light brown hair done at the local beauty salon
that morning. The car was warm and smelled of cigarette smoke
and brownies. Mrs. Viger was a chain smoker and a Marine sergeant.
The couple had met in San Diego when they were both in the Marine
Corps. They had been married for 41 years. She would always refer
to her husband as "my Georgie."
We talked of Hawaii, the weather, Notre Dame football, my family,
how the Vigers met and back to Notre Dame football. The Professor
drove and walked slowly and methodically, kind of like his classes.
Mrs. Viger, on the other hand, was full of energy, always talking
to everyone around her. Once we arrived at the Ramada Inn, of
which Professor Viger was a part owner, Mrs. Viger introduced
me to everyone as "Mike from Ha-waa-ya." Eventually she would
introduce me as her "Number 1 Notre Dame son," followed by "He's
from Ha-waa-ya." The restaurant was elegant for Elkart, Indiana;
nice furniture with Erte' art on the walls. Used to surviving
on dining hall food, I ate a grand meal of prime rib, baked potato
with the works and two desserts. Mrs.Viger took pleasure in my
enjoyment of my food.
When we arrived back at the main circle at the Notre Dame campus,
Mrs. Viger thanked me for the flowers and handed me a tin of brownies
filled with walnuts. The empty tin once returned would be exchanged
for a full tin of brownies the next time. This always struck me
as strange because Mrs. Viger said she never cooked. She said
she had one of those signs in her kitchen that read "closed" on
one side and "open" on the other. She joked, "My kitchen is always
closed." Students in any of the Professor Viger's classes should
remember the brownies because they were always there at the end
of any major exam -- compliments of Mrs. Viger's closed kitchen.
Professor and Mrs. Viger never had any children, by birth anyway.
However, over the span of 25 years they informally adopted hundreds
of students from Hawaii. There were six of us from Hawaii at Notre
Dame in 1980. We knew each other prior to arriving at O'Hare International
in Chicago and hung out together by cultural default. Professor
and Mrs. Viger would eventually meet all the kids from Hawaii
as well as my roommates at Dillon Hall, who they had me invite
individually to dinner at the Ramada once a week. I told the Dillonites
to always bring flowers. I became the "Hawaiian Connection" to
prime-rib dinners and all-you-can-eat salad bars. The Professor
eventually became our Notre Dame Hawaii Club sponsor, and Mrs.
Viger our biggest booster.
During the course of my college education, the Professor and
Mrs. V., as she was affectionately known, became in Notre Dame
terms "in loco parentis" or surrogate parents. In addition to
making sure I ate well, Mrs. V. was there to take me out for an
ice cream after my first boxing loss in the Bengal Bouts. They
also were there to take me to the Ramada to show me my name on
the hotel marquee before dinner when I won the bouts the next
year. In return, the Notre Dame Hawaii Club would play Hawaiian
music for Mrs. Viger's ladies' luncheons, and she was never without
a bouquet of flowers; yellow mums were her favorites. In my senior
year, my younger sister came to Notre Dame as a freshman. The
Professor and Mrs. Viger had never had a daughter until then.
I knew as I left Notre Dame that my sister would be in good hands
when the cold became too much, or the dining hall food was dulling
her taste buds. Professor and Mrs. V were only minutes away.
I was a computer management major and had two courses with Professor
Viger. I got Bs in both of them (so much for the "Easy A" part).
I don't remember much from his classes, but he would always take
me aside and give me a "pearl of wisdom." He would say, "Mike,
always remember, invoice early and pay as late as you can. And
always pay your taxes." I own my own business now. His words on
cash flow still ring true.
When it came time to put my four years of schooling to use,
Professor took me aside and said, "Mike, you don't belong behind
a computer. You belong in the hospitality industry. Let me see
what I can do." With graduation around the corner and my interviews
crashing and burning, anything sounded good. I just needed a job.
Mrs. Viger took me out and bought me a new interview suit and
shoes, while Professor got me a meeting with a friend of his at
the Drake Hilton Hotel in Chicago. His friend then recommended
me to the Hilton Hawaiian Village. I got a job in the sales department
there, thanks also to Professor Viger's letter of reference. The
Professor and Mrs. V were there by my side at graduation along
with my real parents from Hawaii, Donald '54 and Yoko. The Vigers
even came to Hawaii three times to visit.
Through the years, Professor and Mrs. V. never forgot my birthday
or Christmas. Cards would come once a month or so with a check
for me to go out to dinner or a gift from the Hammes Bookstore.
She would always write "GO IRISH" and "#1 Notre Dame Son" on her
cards. In return, I would send Mrs. V. Lalique figurines. She
collected them: footballs, shamrocks, banty roosters. Professor
always received ducks from me because he hated them. It was a
running joke -- duck bookends, duck wall hangings, duck umbrellas.
To this day, I'm still not sure if he thought my duck gifts were
funny.
Mrs. Viger continued to smoke, and arthritis was starting to
hinder her letter writing. I still got the letters, but they became
harder to read. Still, the former Marine wasn't going to give
up. I would write back, and we would talk of the weather, Notre
Dame football, my family, her family, the other students from
Hawaii who became her new kids, Notre Dame football . . . Professor
and Mrs. V had season tickets and were staunch supporters of ND
football, but weather and age seemed to discourage them from going
to the stadium, consigning them to watching the game in the warmth
and comfort of the University Club or their living room. They
always gave the tickets to one of their Notre Dame kids or a needy
student or alumni.
In 2001, Professor developed prostate cancer. Mrs. V called
me, crying. I never heard her cry before. We continued to stay
in touch. Professor seemed to be getting better, and in 2002 my
girlfriend, Anna, and I went to visit them. We spent the day at
their home and had lunch at the University Club. Professor looked
older, but what shocked me was Mrs. Viger. Smoking had finally
resigned her to an oxygen tank and a Bromide inhaler. She was
still spunky and still doting on the Professor. We had a great
visit, and I cried when we left.
Last year on July 29th at 4 p.m., I received a call from the
Professor. Mrs. Viger had passed away in her sleep. He was crying.
I had never heard him cry before, either.
Professor and I stayed in touch. I would leave messages, and
he would return them, but they were short. He seemed sad. His
cancer also had returned, eventually spreading to his legs and
arms.
In February 2005 I received a call from Joni Viger, Professor's
niece. The Professor had passed away in his sleep two days before
his 83rd birthday.
Professor George Viger was buried next to his wife of 60 years,
Mrs. Jane Viger, at the Notre Dame Cemetery on his birthday, February
22. I miss the Professor and Mrs. Viger.
(April 2005)
