I remember Bob Consavage standing tall in the hallways of fourth-floor James freshman year. Immediately, he was "Big Bob" to all of us. His large fatherly hands interpreted justice for us sometimes, as he took naturally to authority, (not that all of us appreciated authority all the time). A paramedic in the summertime, he stood confident at handling any emergency. Early on in his college career he became a sort of adjunct member of security, and he eased me through a scrape or two, an escort home when I had too much beer at least on one occasion. But we all found out soon enough, when the time was right, that the sort of badge he held with authority and dignity he also kept with an understanding and a kindness. And even back then, it was revealed he wore his role with a fine sense of humor, which then meant that you knew him well and were, proudly, his friend. No doubt, his wit was keen, and I wondered at his fine embellishments as my college career progressed. Somehow it is appropriate that I remember Benjamin DeMott calling out Bob's name, in English 11 our freshman year, as only DeMott could call out a name as richly, "Mr. Consavage," with all its hues of understanding, one large and erudite fellow regarding another.