Maggie Murdy: A place in our hearts
On the November day when family and friends gathered in Frank Manor House to celebrate the life and times of Margaret Roberts Murdy Lusk, the campus’s signature Japanese cherry tree still held vestiges of autumn. The sky was Portland gray and the wind drove a hard rain across Fir Acres.
It was a day made for gathering around the fire and sharing memories of this friend of Lewis & Clark known simply and forever as Maggie. Now, some might attribute this perfect convergence of occasion and season to coincidence. Maggie, no doubt, would laugh and say, “No, dear, it’s Providence.”
The daughter of a Presbyterian minister, Maggie had one ear tuned always to God’s own call, one to the rhythms of her heart, and both together to the needs of others. She embraced faith, life, learning, and people with equal zest and passion. She was and remains a great, great friend of Lewis & Clark—even though she never attended a class or took a degree here. Her generosity is of such magnitude that her impact on the campus and on many lives will be felt for generations to come.
Maggie was smitten by the beauty of the Lewis & Clark campus from the first time she saw it, as a teenager accompanying her father from their Medford home for a meeting of the Presbyterian Synod. He always hoped she would enroll at Lewis & Clark. Ever her own person, she had other ideas. She enrolled at Oregon State University, quickly becoming a campus leader.
But Lewis & Clark continued to resonate with her. Drawn to the community’s volunteerism, sense of social responsibility, and generosity of spirit that mirrored her own philosophy of life, she looked to the College for a way to honor her father and mother.
Maggie’s bequest, totaling nearly $6 million, speaks of her great belief in the power of a Lewis & Clark education to transform lives and to foster enduring relationships. Part of her legacy lives on in Roberts Hall, the premier residential address on campus, dedicated in honor of her parents, Harold McNally Roberts and Gertrude Becker Roberts. And part of her legacy will help support programs and studies in the performing arts, endeavors dear to her heart and wonderfully emblematic of her own creativity and vitality.
Of course she lives on in Maggie’s Café, the community cornerstone of the residential campus. “Maggie’s,” notes Lewis & Clark President Tom Hochstettler, “is a wonderful refuge from the hurly-burly of academic life. Its pleasant ambience and friendliness perfectly reflect the warmth and generosity of the real Maggie.”
At the 2002 dedication of Roberts Hall, Maggie herself shared this wish: My hope for Roberts Hall is that the students who live there will find serenity and peace to concentrate on their studies, that it will be a convenient and comfortable place to go about the daily tasks of living, that they will find they can have lots of laughs and fun, a certain amount of horseplay—when their studies can be put aside—and that they will remember it as a place where friendships are formed that will last a lifetime.
Whenever she visited campus, Maggie was always, first and foremost, a magnet for students. They gravitated to her, eager to swap stories, eager to share their hopes and dreams—trusting her so much that they also shared their anxieties and fears—and eager to receive her affection and wisdom.
Lewis & Clark at its best does what Maggie did for the legions of students she fondly called her children: It instills a deep and abiding sense of purpose and worth. It teaches students things they can make their own and then share. It imparts hope. All this, Maggie did, and continues to do, for Lewis & Clark.
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