[Congressional Record Volume 140, Number 148 (Wednesday, November 30, 1994)]
[Senate]
[Page S]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Printing Office [www.gpo.gov]
[Congressional Record: November 30, 1994]
From the Congressional Record Online via GPO Access [wais.access.gpo.gov]
JOANNE RATHGEB
Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, on November 19, my dear friend, Joanne
Rathgeb, died of breast cancer. She was at home with her family.
Joanne played many roles in her life. In the theater, she was an
award-winning actress, producer, and director. In education, she was an
inspiring teacher. In her community, she was a loving wife, mother,
sister, and friend. She lived an extraordinary life, bringing joy to
everyone who was lucky enough to know her. To those who did not know
her, but watched her public struggle with breast cancer, she gave hope.
Joanne Rathgeb accepted the news of her cancer by taking on a new
role--citizen activist. She got other women in Vermont, and across the
Nation, to speak up and demand more attention to breast cancer
research. I was proud to work with Joanne to increase breast cancer
research funds. For Joanne and every family touched by breast cancer, I
pledge to continue the fight.
Joanne and Don Rathgeb have been two of Vermont's leading citizens.
Both brought a wealth of talent and commitment to our State.
When I went to their home after hearing the news, I shared the grief
of Don and their family. I told them of how honored I was to have known
Joanne and to have been her friend. I also told them that throughout
her ordeal with cancer, during our many meetings, she always spoke
about someone else's need and never her own. She was a courageous,
selfless, and wonderful friend.
I ask unanimous consent that an article from the Burlington Free
Press, and the homily delivered by Tony Staffieri at Joanne's Mass of
the Resurrection be printed in the Record.
There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in
the Record, as follows:
Remembering Joanne Rathgeb
Don, Laura Mae, Elizabeth and Dan, Laura and David, Donald,
Vickie and Caitlyn, Mary Jo and John, Nonny Rathgeb and
Sister Mary Elizabeth, FR. Mike Cronogue, President Reiss,
honored guests, members of the Faculty of Saint Michael's
College, members of Joanne's extended family, neighbors,
students and friends:
Good morning. My name is Tony Staffieri, and for the last
27 years I have been proud to call Joanne Rathgeb my friend,
my teacher, my second mother, my spiritual guide, and my
inspiration. Ever since that day in September 1967 when at
8:30 a.m. Joanne sprang into my life as my very first teacher
at Saint Michael's, she has been my friend.
Throughout our friendship, Joanne and I have been there for
each other on countless occasions--I remember the day when
she first told me of the lump she had found in her breast. We
shared our friendship through diagnosis and treatments, ups
and downs, weddings, funerals, anniversaries, good reviews
and petty reviews. Clearly today is the saddest day of our 27
year friendship.
Before she left us, Joanne had planned for today--you know
how she was--never leaving things undone. She asked that I
speak here today remembering her for her family and friends
and hoping to be remembered for whatever good she did or
laughter she brought to us * * * and asking pardon for any
name forgotten or for anything left undone.
So how do you characterize a woman who is laid to rest in
the black robes of a Benedictine Oblate--who is also wearing
a Kermit the Frog watch? That was Joanne! She, like Kermit,
knew that it wasn't easy being green. And she would tell you,
just like she would tell Kermit, Be true to your greenness;
Hold on to your greenility; Don't deny your greenanity. And
by all means, remember you're a frog--be proud of it!
My favorite Joanne story happened on her sabbatical in New
York City in 1988. What many of you probably don't know was
that Joanne was my roommate during her four month sabbatical.
If you don't think being Joanne's roommate was a scream, you
simply haven't experienced life.
One afternoon when Joanne went out into the scariness of
New York City, filled with weirdos, kooks and nutcases (who
always seemed a little bit intimidating to Joanne), she had a
real New York experience. It seems she was shopping for a
Saint Michael's production. And on this particular expedition
she had purchased a number of rubber chickens and rubber
fish. She came cascading into my apartment as if she had just
discovered the secret to cold fusion, and declared, ``I
finally figured it out--I finally figured how to keep the
thugs from bothering me.''
What Joanne had discovered on the streets of lower 5th
Avenue this cool spring day was, what she was later to refer
to as her ``rubber chicken lady walk.'' ``There I was'',
she recalled, ``in my nice big coat, hair flying dirty
sneakers and a bagful of rubber chickens. If they aren't
scared of that, start talking out loud. And if that
doesn't work--cross the street, and walk right towards
them!''
And that's how one frail woman with a great big coat and a
bagful of rubber chickens handled some street thug who
probably had a knife and an automatic weapons!--and who's
still talking about his encounter with Joanne Rathgeb.
As Dolly Parton says, ``Laughter through tears, my favorite
emotion.''
On October 17 of this year I spent the day with Joanne.
Clearly the days left together would be few, and I relished
this time to be with her alone for it was my duty and
distinct honor to ask her, what she would like remembered
here today.
Her cousin, a Benedictine Monk, Brother Gerard, had taught
Joanne to see her life and work as prayer. And she later
pledged her life to this philosophy of work as prayer. She
recalled, ``I see everything we do as prayer; from teaching
to changing a diaper.'' And that is how we should all
remember Joanne Ellspermann Rathgeb--her life as a prayer.
Recalling her life in this year's fall as the trees
foreshadowed what was to come just one month later, Joanne
recounted a story she chose never to forget. As she looked
out through her front window, she brought me back to the mid
1950s when her student won the first black actor's award in a
one play contest in Chicago--an achievement that would be
echoed again 30 years later as her students won unprecedented
back-to-back awards at the Kennedy Center Honors in
Washington, DC.
But back in the 50s though, this was a first for Joanne.
Her group of theatre friends--mixed blacks and whites went
for a swim at a Chicago beach after the awards ceremony. And
she recalled, ``The joy of theatre people coming together was
shattered because it was a whites only beach.'' This was an
important lesson for Joanne which was to mark her life with
purpose and, subsequently, influence thousands from the
profound lesson of righteousness she learned that day. Life
and work as prayer.
Later in early 60s, Joanne recalled arriving at St. Mary's
of the Woods College . . . having just learned that she was
pregnant with Elizabeth. ``The College had a rule,'' Joanne
observed with a bit of irony, ``that all pregnant teachers
had to stop teaching. But we had a very progressive
president, Sister Mary Madaleva.'' Joanne went to Sister
Madaleva and made her case . . . in a way she was to do 30
years later to Congressmen and Senators in Washington.
``Sister,'' she noted, ``you're asking us to teach young
women in the world and to equip them to compete on the same
level as men--but you're taking us out of the classroom as if
being pregnant diminished our brain power.'' To which Sister
Mary Madaleva replied, ``My Dear, you're absolutely right. I
guess we'll have to change that rule, won't we.'' And
Joanne's been clearing a path and changing the rules ever
since. A champion in her work, in her life and in her
wonderful manner. Her life and work as prayer.
Joanne cared for others even as she lay dying. When she
learned that a colleague's son--Ben Lindau, Buff's son, had
been diagnosed with cancer--she made a point to call Buff
from her bed to offer solace, guidance and love.
I'm pleased to report Ben is well and back in school and
Joanne's care and concern will forever be a fond memory for
Buff and her family.
In writing this remembrance, Joanne's friends and
colleagues have told me in the last few days that they credit
her with saving lives, making careers, and fostering
marriages and families. It is no surprise then, that the most
important part of Joanne's life was her immediate family. Don
was her husband, partner, best friend, director of choice,
and coproducer for over 34 years. Never have I witnessed more
love and dedication than I did between Don and Joanne--Don
and Joanne; it's as if it were one word.
I remember during Joanne's sabbatical visit--she hadn't
seen Don for about 3 or 4 weeks. And one morning I found her
in my kitchen ironing a dress. Joanne ironing was some
surprise. She was singing and humming to herself. Her hair
was in rollers and she was like a litter girl * * * and then
I realized, Don was on his way * * * and after 25 years of
marriage, she was still excited to see him.
I was honored to be one of the children--natural, by
marriage, and acquired (that's my category) to have hosted
Don and Joanne's 30th wedding anniversary in June of 1990.
The commemorative photo album presented at that event was
entitled, The Dog is Sticking to the Kitchen Floor. It was
both a remembrance and a review of Joanne's housekeeping
prowess. She may not have been the best housekeeper on the
planet, but she kept the warmest and most wonderful house
anywhere.
Her children filled Joanne's life. Their first child,
Elizabeth, strong, determined, caring, and for those of us
who babysat for this brood, the ringleader. She is here today
with the first Rathgeb son-in-law, Dan Pratt. Then Laura--
gentle, gifted, her mother's image, the thought provoker,
supported today by her companion, David Leopold.
Then there were the twins: Donald, Jr. and Mary Jo. Donald,
now a daddy himself, with his lovely wife Vickie and their
daughter--the apple of Joanne's eye--Caitlyn. Donald Jr. is a
true miniature of Don Sr., quick with a pun, gentle and
loving. And Mary Jo, with her husband John Balaskas and their
two dogs, Trixie and Ellie, which Joanne reveled in during
their last visit in October. Mary Jo is the one with the
impish smile and infectious giggle--the back-up ringleader
when Liz was engrossed in Barbie Dolls and wasn't available
to lead. In small and major ways they are all a reflection of
their mom and dad * * * and we see Joanne in all of them. Her
life's work * * * as prayer.
As Bill Mannel, one of Joanne's former students recently
observed, Don and Joanne were for many of us a second set of
parents, a little more hip than our own folks, more
understanding and willing to experiment, but real parents.
And for many of Don and Joanne's students, when they moved on
to form their own families, Don and Joanne became one of the
prototypes they emulated.
And then there was Joanne's professional work. Educated in
parochial schools in Terre Haute, Indiana, she attended St.
Mary's of the Woods College and Indiana State University,
from which she received her BA and MA.
Joanne's life was forever changed when in the late 50s,
while taking post-graduate classes at Catholic University,
she became affiliated with Catholic University's National
Players and another lifelong friend and mentor, the
wonderful, late Fr. Gilbert Hartke. She toured for two
seasons with the Company as Kate in Taming of the Shrew and
in Oedipus Rex, Twelfth Night, and as the nurse in Romeo and
Juliet. That tour brought Joanne all over the world--from the
400 year old Teatro Olipico in Italy, to the Carnegie Hall
Playhouse in New York City, to the Notre Dame University
Theatre in South Bend. It was there she met a dashing young
theater professor, Don Rathgeb.
Don thought Joanne, at first, a stuck-up actress--until he
found her hammering away on the set one day. They traveled
together to Catholic University's Summer Theater, Saint
Michael's College, in Winooski, Vermont in 1958--where they
were to begin a 36 year run. Two years later, the cute little
actress with the ponytail--a young woman whose face we see
today in her three lovely daughters and grandaughter--married
the man who was to become her very best friend, partner,
father of their children, and, in the fall of her life, her
primary care giver, devoted servant and compassionate
helpmate.
How do you characterize a performance career as diverse as
Joanne's--from her New York debut in the Phoenix Theatre
Company in Peer Gynt and Lysistrata to my favorite Joanne
role, Adelaide in Guys and Dolls, or Opal in Everybody Loves
Opal. She brought tears to even the most hardened eyes as
Emily Dickinson in The Belle of Amherst, and then too, tears
of another kind as Mother Superior in Nunsense. During
Nunsense, there seemed at times more nuns in the audiences
for Joanne's shows than on stage--we wondered when Joanne was
performing who was minding the Convent?
One of Joanne's most enjoyable experiences was performing
in the CBS movie, aptly titled, A Gift of Love, as well as
several other productions, including Oedipus Rex and Minnie
Remebmers. Joanne was unforgettable as the stripteasing,
reluctant floozie, Adelaide, in Guys and Dolls as she was as
the tapdancing Mother Superior or the stately and detached
Emily Dickinson. To each of these roles she brought warmth,
depth and humanity. Her life's work a prayer.
As a teacher no one could compare to Joanne. She could take
the dullest subjects and breathe life into them. She taught
Freshman English in my first year, and despite the 8:30 a.m.
class time and four young, very active children, she seldom
missed a class. And she was so compelling, we seldom missed
her class. She and Don are credited with inventing video
training in 1966 using black and white Sony video equipment
to teach speech classes. And the techniques they pioneered
were and are used far and wide from training elected
officials, a gaggle of Catholic deacons, cosmetic industry
executives, and even a recalcitrant stripteaser.
In her classroom and her acting and coaching sessions,
Joanne was always a trailblazer. I remember when first we
met, Joanne smoked. Then when the government reports proved
that smoking was dangerous, Joanne stopped smoking, got Don
to stop smoking and got many of us to stop smoking.
As only the second woman to Chair a department at Saint
Michael's College, Joanne guided the Fine Arts department
through its first major challenge, building a home for the
department during the three years of design, construction and
opening of the McCarthy Fine Arts Center. In 1993 when she
retired as a full professor, the alumni of the Saint
Michael's Fine Arts Department, spanning over 20 years, came
back to pay tribute to Joanne and Don. It was just one year
ago that our Fine Arts Family frolicked and played on stage
for Don and Joanne--who topped the evening off with what was
to become Joanne's last public theatrical performance--a tour
de force reading with Don of I'm Herbert.
I was remembered being there with Fine Arts students
cheering and clapping for Don and Joanne. We savored these
moments.
The last professional chapter of Joanne's life was recently
categorized in an editorial in The Burlington Free Press as
nothing less than a military campaign, where the foot soldier
and the general were one and the same person. In October
1985, Joanne was diagnosed with breast cancer. I remember her
call outlining the details, the therapies, the options and
her determination to beat this disease.
She turned the frightening realities of hair loss due to
chemotherapy into a ravishing new fashion statement--showing
up at Donald and Vickie's wedding with a strikingly short
silver fox haircut which she dubbed my ``Chemo Cut.'' No, she
would not lie down and become a victim. Instead, Joanne rose
up and became a survivor, a leader, a champion. I guess when
you see your work as prayer, rising up--even in the most dire
of circumstances--isn't so unimaginable. For those of us who
looked on, we were humbled with awe.
One afternoon during a visit to New York, where Joanne was
helping to comfort me through the loss of yet another friend
to AIDS, she noticed all the literature about AIDS and spoke
about how politically effective AIDS activists were. ``And
why,'' she asked, ``is there no such movement for women with
breast cancer?''
The answer to Joanne became clear. In the absence of any
substantive movement, she would just get in there and do it
herself. ``I was never really politically active,'' she
recalled last month, ``but when your own survival depends on
activism, you can become a citizen activist very quickly.''
Joanne approached breast cancer activism the way she
approached everything. And it was not without humor. When
asked to perform for a breast cancer fund raiser, she didn't
choose some dreary poem. No, she and Don whipped up a
hilarious original monologue, A Funny Thing Happened on the
Way to Radiation.
When the National Breast Cancer Group decided to send
letters of support to Congress, they assigned Vermont the
task of obtaining 600 letters. Joanne's response was to
obtain nearly 14,000 letters. She galvanized women in
Vermont--and in other states--to speak up. ``Don't call it
the C-word,'' she would tell people. ``It's cancer, and you
must/we must be public about it. And force the men who make
all the decisions about research money to start giving us our
fair share!''
She and Don went to Washington and lobbied Congressman
Bernie Sanders and Senator Pat Leahy to co-sponsor the Breast
Cancer Registry Bill--so that states like Vermont with small
populations, but with high incidents of breast cancer
(Vermont ranks 8th in the U.S.) could perhaps find some of
the causes. She was as eloquent with the men of power as she
had been with Sister Madaleva nearly 30 years earlier. The
need for the Breast Cancer Registry Bill became a political
fact of life and a reality. And although many others
participated, all agreed that Joanne was the prime mover in
Vermont--and her work had national ramifications.
On Sunday, the day after Joanne died, I came to the house
on Seneca Avenue and found our Senator, Patrick Leahy
consoling Don and the kids. He was moved and in tears. He was
sincerely fond of Joanne. When he heard of my task today, he
made a point of telling me, ``Make sure everyone knows that
whenever Joanne came to me it was always for other people, it
was never favors for her; she was so generous.'' Work as
prayer.
In a book of Cancer Stories that belonged to Joanne, we
found a telling phrase she had underlined, ``In the great
acts of life, we are often alone.''
But in the sadness of Joanne's death, she was never really
alone. As one who has witnessed many friends die long and
protracted passing, I cannot help but observe how
extraordinary the care was that Joanne received from so many
friends and her family. Truly this is a community of which we
can all be proud. And when politicians refer to ``family
values,'' it is the good people of Vermont and this community
they should hold in their mind's eye as one to be emulated.
She received loving care from so many--those in the Cancer
Support Group: Jim Schwartz, Liz Russo, Mary Siegler, Bob
Tucker, Filicia Carreon and Pat Hanniford; her lifelong
buddies, Peggy O'Brien, Pauline Landry and Pierrette Roy;
students, friends, and neighbors like the Woodards and
L'Ecuyers, and always from Don, and towards the end,
Laura. All of these friends and family there by Joanne's
side comforting, administering--their lives now a common
prayer of support, and love helping to ease in the
transition as this magnificent flame flickered and then
went out.
Joanne died in peace and with dignity. Laura and I were
there beside her. She had asked Don to celebrate their
achievements by traveling to Manchester to receive their
Lifetime Achievement Award from the Vermont Council on the
Arts--an award she would never see--but one she savored, for
this, like the three awards she received from Saint Michael's
was from her peers.
As Laura observed, in the end, Joanne had only one thing
left, ``boundless love,'' which she generously shared until
her last breath.
Towards the end, Joanne believed that she had not quite
done enough, but we knew otherwise. As she had wryly observed
in the Free Press, she ``brought warring factions together--
from all three political parties and the various cancer
groups. She even succeeded in getting both U.S. Senators, the
U.S. Congressman from Vermont and the Governor and Lt.
Governor all on the same platform (a rare feat!) dedicating
Mother's Day as a Day of Remembrance for all those Vermont
mothers, wives, sisters and friends lost to this epidemic.
She was a general who saw the need to remember fallen troops.
And now, in May 1995, we will add Joanne's name to this ever
growing list of fallen heroines.
If Joanne's death is to have meaning, then I urge all of
you to become citizen activists like Joanne. One voice, no
matter how timid or strong, can make a difference. If you
doubt this, remember Joanne Rathgeb.
She taught us how to live. She showed us how to die with
dignity. And even after her death she showed us there was
still more to say. At her request, an autopsy was performed.
She theorized, ``If I'm going to go through this hell, then
let's learn something from it.'' From her life and her death,
she has planted the seeds from which knowledge will spring
forth. . . and in her way. . . her life, her work, her
prayer, will one day become part of the cure for breast
cancer.
In another section of the Cancer Story book, Liz Rathgeb
Pratt showed me a section underlined by Joanne. ``I don't
think people are afraid of death. What they are afraid of is
the incompleteness of their lives.'' Joanne Rathgeb lived as
complete a life as anyone could hope to live.
So, as we go forth from this house of worship today, where
so many chapters of Joanne's life are recorded, we bring with
us Joanne in our hearts. Her joy, her triumphs and her love.
Remember Joanne's life and work as prayer. For every time we
see an injustice and right this wrong, we are remembering and
honoring Joanne.
Every time we hear laughter, especially laughter through
tears, remember Joanne.
Every time we treat life's chores not as drudgery, but as
prayer, you will be remembering Joanne in a way she would
love.
Every time we teach a child and see the light of knowledge
brightening in their faces, we honor Joanne.
And, every time we honor and love one another, we remember
Joanne.
Leave here today not in sadness, nor in sorrow, but in joy,
for having been even a small part of the celebration of
Joanne Rathgeb's life. Take her with you in your hearts as I
will in mine. Do as she asked me to tell you . . . . ``Love
one another'' as she loved all of you.
You may be gone, but for the rest of our days, you will
forever be in our hearts and in our prayers.
Good bye, my Darling.
____
[From the Burlington (VT) Free Press, Nov. 20, 1994]
Rathgeb dies of Cancer
(By Susan Kelley)
One of the state's most tenacious breast cancer activists
and the matriarch of northern Vermont theater died Saturday
morning of the disease.
Joanne Rathgeb, 64, died at 10:15 a.m. Saturday at her home
in Essex Junction, after fighting breast cancer for nine
years. Her daughter, Laura, and a family friend were by her
side.
Rathgeb helped raise awareness of breast cancer and
demanded more research into the disease. Vermont has the
eighth highest rate of death by breast cancer in the nation.
But Rathgeb and her husband, Donald, also were known as the
soul of the St. Michael's Playhouse, the oldest continuously
operating Equity theater in the state. They were founders of
the theater department at St. Michael's College in
Colchester.
``She was my spouse,'' Don Rathgeb said. ``She was also my
colleague in teaching. She was my business partner. She was
my chief talent on stage, and she was a friend. I have not
yet realized what I have lost--although I'm quite sure that
having spent 34\1/2\ years together, that there will be
memories.''
Rathgeb is survived by her husband, four children,
grandchildren, an older sister and brother, and a large,
extended family.
Over the course of Rathgeb's career at St. Michael's
College as professor, actor, producer and director, she was
awards from Vermont Women in Higher Education; three
medallions from the American College Theatre Festival
national and regional competitions; and was a fellow at the
Vermont Academy of Arts and Sciences. Friday, she and her
husband received a lifetime achievement award from the
Vermont Council on the Arts. Her family traveled to
Manchester to accept the award for her.
Theater critic Ruth Page remembers Rathgeb's talent
onstage, especially in comedic roles. Fans still remember her
lead role from 14 years ago in ``Everybody Loves Opal,'' in
which she played a women who recycled teabags by hanging them
on a clothesline.
``Whenever Joanne came onstage, it just brightened up the
whole audience,'' Page said. ``When my mom was in her 80s, I
used to take her to the Playhouse. Every time Joanne came out
in a humorous role, Mother would just crack up.''
But Rathgeb was also a talented acting coach, Pahe said,
especially working one-on-one with young actors.
``She didn't order them around. She'd say `Let's try this,'
and kind of show them with body English, and they would
comprehend and try.''
Rathgeb was born Joanne Ellspermann in Terre Haute, Ind.,
to a family of German descent. She was educated at parochial
schools and showed an early interest in theater.
She earned a bachelor's degree in theater and a master's
degree in English from Indiana State University. She also
attended St. Mary's of the Woods College and did post-
graduate work at Catholic University of America. She taught
in the Chicago school systems and helped organize theaters in
Terre Haute.
The bright-eyed, pony-tailed actress met her future husband
in South Bend, Ind., when she was 28 and touring with the
prestigious Catholic University Repertory Company.
Don Rathgeb, who was teaching at St. Mary's of Notre Dame,
thought she was ``just a phony, sophisticated actress,'' he
has said.
But that changed when he saw her working on a stage set,
scrunched under an 18-inch level and hammering in a nail.
They drove together to Vermont to work at St. Michael's
College in 1958 and were married two years later.
Even while juggling a family of six, teaching, acting and
directing. Rathgeb retained her sense of humor.
She said in 1988 that if a movie were made of her life, the
title would be ``The Dogs are Sticking to the Kitchen
Floor.''
Rathgeb was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1985. It was an
event that propelled her into the arena of breast cancer
activism.
As she learned more about the disease, she found that
Vermont's breast cancer death rate increased 36 percent
between 1980 and 1987. State Health Department figures showed
that the rate increased from 27.4 deaths per 100,000 to 34.4
deaths per 100,000.
But no research was being done to find out why Vermont had
the eighth-highest death rate in the nation due to breast
cancer.
In 1992, she began a statewide registry of cancer victims.
She and others convinced Rep. Bernard Sanders, I-Vt., and
Sen. Patrick Leahy, D-Vt., to propose that Congress pass the
Cancer Registries Act. That legislation set up a uniform
system of collecting data on cancer in each state.
She also participated in a letter-writing campaign to
collect 2.6 million signatures asking President Clinton to
develop a national strategy to end the epidemic.
``She was always in her own way making an incredible impact
on the work that's being done, even now. It will live on,''
said fellow activist Virginia Soffa.
In recent days, Rathgeb's health had deteriorated rapidly.
The cancer that had attacked most of her body had crept into
her bronchial tubes, restricting breathing and making
swallowing impossible.
But her husband, Don, takes solace in having been her
primary care-giver for the past two months.
``I'm not sure if it feels like being a quadriplegic, but
there's a definite sense of loss.''
He and his family were preparing for visitors Saturday
afternoon. Funeral arrangements were incomplete Saturday and
are being handled by Ready Funeral Home.
____________________