PROFILE FROM WINTER 2006 ISSUE OF OREGON QUARTERLY
What’s in a Name?
Quite a lot, actually
Hi. Bing Bingham here.
I was attending a writing seminar when I first heard of UO history professor emeritus Edwin “Bing” Bingham. A young woman had discovered I was an author and freelance writer and she asked, “Are you any relation to Bing Bingham, the author in Eugene?”
TIM JORDAN
Emeritus professor Bing Bingham (left) and Bing Bingham, writer, photographer, and
eastern Oregon correspondent for KLCC-FM
“I don’t think so,” I said, “does he look like me?”
“Not really, he’s got the same blue eyes,“ she said, “but he has more hair.”
“Uh . . . OK,” I said.
Bing Bingham [him, not me] retired from teaching history at the UO in 1982. His nickname “Bing” first surfaced when his grandmother called him “Bing Boy.” As a youngster, the future professor Bingham was referred to as “Little Bing” and his father, “Big Bing.” Just as yours truly [me, not him] listened for the dinner call “ Little Bing,” rather than my father’s “Big Bing.”
Edwin Bingham focused on history as a topic of study at UCLA. After graduating with an M.A., he was hired in 1949 as a teaching assistant at Oregon.
“I remember driving all night from San Francisco and arriving at dawn,” he says, “I found [Eugene] a beautiful place.” A place that grew in his heart, a place he never left.
In those days, Edwin Bingham was an ambitious young scholar. He returned to UCLA for his Ph.D. in 1951 and focused his UO teaching and research interests on American cultural and Pacific Northwest history. He found great joy working with students. According to Springfield city attorney Dave Logan ’63, “[Bingham was an] absolutely approachable and friendly guy with a highly developed sense of humor.”
Clarno rancher Jon Bowerman ’66 tells this story: When he first arrived at the UO, some older students “showed me two lists. The first was of professors to be avoided at all costs. The second was of professors to be sought after, if at all possible. Professor Bingham’s name was on the second list.”
Part of his reputation was earned in his Mountain Man lectures, a heavily attended series in which Bingham recounted the exploits of these backwoods explorers and fur traders. A memorable class moment—and a jarring awakening for any dozing student—would be his earsplitting cry of “WAGH!!!” a Mountain Man’s signature exclamation indicating admiration or surprise. His personalized license plates—WAGH—added to his celebrity around campus.
For some, Bingham’s lectures were amusing and exciting; for others they were life-changing. Stephen Dow Beckham ’64, now Dr. Robert B. Pamplin Jr. Professor of History at Lewis and Clark College, credits Bingham with being a mentor and friend: “[He] rescued me from the dilemma of the undergraduate who had trouble deciding what to do with life.” Beckham had been working on a degree in biology. The transformation came during an off-campus honors college class at Bingham’s home. This course, which introduced Beckham to the ideas of many top authorities on the American West, fired his imagination and set him on a career path. Today he’s become one of those inspiring authors, internationally recognized in the field of Northwest history and folklore, and the author or editor of thirteen books.
Highlights of Bingham’s own career include serving as a Fulbright scholar and writing Charles F. Lummis: Editor of the Southwest, a portrait of an important character in western literary history. First published in 1955, the book was reissued in May by The Huntington Library Press. In addition, he published a biography of famed Northwesterner C. E. S. Wood and edited California Gold, Northwest Perspectives, American Frontier, Frontier Experience, and Fur Trade in the West. At retirement in 1982, he was given the title professor emeritus.
After that, he spread his passion for history to audiences around the state while traveling as a Chautauqua Scholar for the Oregon Council for the Humanities. Over the decades of teaching and an untold number of lectures, Bingham has awakened thousands of students to the beauty and value of history. Three years ago, he received the UO’s Distinguished Service Award—the highest honor awarded by the faculty.
Perhaps the most telling aspect of his career is the respect he’s earned. When I spoke with Dave Logan about his memories of Bingham, he said, “He’s one of a handful of special people that I’ve met in the world, I love him dearly.”
As for this Bing Bingham (me, not him), I smiled as I closed my reporter’s notebook and packed my cameras at the end of our interview. I’m glad to finally meet the man with whom I’ve shared a name for so many years. And I’m pleased the name has been in such good hands.
— D. “Bing” Bingham
