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Summer 2002
CUNY Biologists Cultivate New Medicines
Remarkable June Grads Break the Mold
Major CUNY Response to Nursing Shortage
Harlem Hospital Leader a Role Model for Salk Scholars
"Votes Rebuild New York" Campaign Launched
Goldstein “Closeup” On Honors College Governors Island, High Schools
CUNY ANNOUNCES 9/11 Memorial Competition
CCNY Engineer Honored by the Nation

Seminar-in-a-Book Ponders 9/11

From "Ground Zero" Rapper to City Council Candidate
Turning Anger into Literature
Model City Council Planned in the Fall
Highlights of 2002-2003 State Adopted Budget
Two New CUNY Trustees Appointed
Biomedical Engineer Wins Guggenheim
City University Leading Producer of Hispanic Graduates
The Challenge of AIDS in Africa
Bilingual: College French, Scientist's Latin
Presidential Appointments for Queens and York Colleges

Queens College Artist Adds New Passion to His Palette

El Diario-La Prensa Editor Honored at Model Senate

Intel Chief Plunges into Memory

Dual Citizen of the Pen

"Opticals" for Woody Allen, Illustrations for Mother Nature
CUNY Faculty Experts on Post-9/11 Response Listed on Web Site

Intel Chief Plunges into Memory

book tittled "swimming across"Walt Whitman once boasted about being a very lazy swimmer: “My forte was…in floating. I possessed almost unlimited capacity for floating on my back… I was a first-rate aquatic loafer.”
CCNY alum Andrew S. Grove’s views on natation are utterly different. The word “driven” comes immediately to mind when one thinks of the founder and current chairman of Intel, who was named Time’s “Man of the Year” in 1997, and the sources of his extraordinary energy and industriousness emerge clearly in the pages of his new memoir, Swimming Across, about his childhood in Nazi- and then Soviet-occupied Hungary, his family’s flight to America, and his first years in New York City.
When his alma mater honored him in 1998, Grove reminisced poignantly about his experience on the CCNY campus (reported in the Fall 1998 issue of CM), and Swimming Across fills out one of the more remarkable success stories in the annals of immigration to New York City. In its pages Grove—who was then Andris Grof—describes his bout with scarlet fever when a four-year-old, his Jewish family’s refuge from Nazis with a Christian family on the outskirts of Budapest, and recalls cowering in cellars when Soviet bombs were falling. For Grove’s family the brutal suppression of the 1956 uprising was the final straw.

The last chapter leaves him just before his three-and-a-half-year climb to first in his graduating class at City College, with a degree in chemical engineering. One amusing anecdote from this time concerns his change of name, which, to his dismay, was pronounced Gruff (without the long “o” in Hungarian): “I started doodling with different spellings. The most obvious thing to do was stick an “e” after my name. G-r-o-f-e. I showed this to a classmate and asked him how he would pronounce it. He said, ‘Oh, Gro-fay, like the composer of The Grand Canyon suite.’ I went back to the drawing board.”

He then tried another version: “I wrote G-r-o-v-e. I took it back to the same boy. He said, ‘Oh, that’s how you say it. Grove.’ It was a serviceable rendition of how G-r-o-f was pronounced in Hungarian and was certainly a lot closer than Gruff.”

In a moving epilogue, Grove notes that he has never returned to Hungary but also brings us up to date on the many people who figured in his early life. Lest there be any doubt that Grove is inclined to loaf, his last paragraph is just four words long: “I am still swimming.”