snow-capped mountains is a lifestyle for John Marshall '71 (MBA '73),
one that has offered views others only dream about.
to be intimidated by the credentials of John Marshall '71 (MBA '73). Here's
a guy who has climbed every peak in the Cascade Range, has taken photos
from points at Crater Lake that no one else has ever shot, who's the undisputed
expert on rare forms of Lake Superior agate. But the man who opened the
door had a ready smile and soft blue eyes. "My wife thinks these
glasses are cute," he joked. "I like them because you can't
see the bifocals line."
How did an
asthmatic kid from the flatlands -- Oklahoma, Minnesota, Texas -- become
so taken with climbing that he re-made his life plan to get close to the
mountains he loved?
one rock at at time.
as a child, Marshall was a rockhound. He found his first agate in his
Minnesota front yard when he was 6 years old. His father said it was a
gift from the ice ages, and young John spent hours scouring the shores
of Lake Superior searching for agates and thinking about how they were
he says, "Collecting agates was a way that a kid who couldn't play
sports could focus his energy on nature and his mind on science."
can pinpoint the moment in 1969 that changed his life. Following a hike
to the top of Mt. Lassen in northern California, he discovered he'd outgrown
his asthma and found a new passion. "On the top of that volcano,
with a view of Mt. Shasta to the north, the kid who could not even run
from first to third base without a life-threatening bout of asthma decided
to be a mountaineer," he recalled.
opened Marshall's eyes to new possibilities, his first sight of Crater
Lake on that same trip, 8,000 feet high in the bowl of a Cascade volcano,
set the direction of his life.
into Crater Lake left me speechless," he said. "I spent a full
day sitting on the rim staring at the azure water. No words could convey
the feelings I experienced that day. As I craned my view for a last look
as we drove away, that's when I knew I was headed to Oregon."
also realized that he was deeply fascinated with human behavior and communication.
At a time when a young man took a risk even admitting that he had a sensitive
side, Marshall began to explore encounter groups and sensitivity training.
are trained to stifle their feelings," he said. "I was lucky
to be able to value my sensitivity and put it to good use. While I was
at TCU, my eyes were opened to the human potential for communication,
how we go so wrong and how we can undo it."
years as a psychology major, he switched to marketing. For Marshall, it
was always about communication. "The business school was serious
about figuring out what reached people, all kinds of people."
at TCU to earn an MBA while his new wife, the former Jane Ehrlich '73,
finished her degrees in elementary education and Spanish. He introduced
Jane to Crater Lake on their honeymoon in 1973, and they moved to Portland,
Ore., in 1974.
hoped to use his MBA working with environmental organizations and was
disappointed that these groups were not yet sophisticated enough to understand
how his skills could help them. So he turned instead to the world of high-tech,
working for Tektronix, Floating Point Systems and Intel. He had to develop
rigorous math and engineering skills, but his heart continued to be in
the mountains and in communicating things that cannot be reduced to equations.
of joining Mazamas, the largest and oldest climbing club in the United
States. To be eligible, you have to climb a major glaciated peak. So he
climbed Mt. Hood, the highest point in Oregon at 11,245 feet, then Crater
Lake. Always Crater Lake. Asked how many times he has been there, Marshall
answered, "At least once a year, some years more. Probably three
not an extreme sport where you go until you hurt yourself. That's not
the point. You climb to go places you can't go if you don't climb. Climbing
the big volcanoes of the Cascades is not as scary in the moment as some
kinds of rock climbing, but it takes more endurance."
had his share of close calls. Climbing across an ice crevasse on the treacherous
north face of Mt. Hood, he slipped and fell within feet of a half-mile
drop-off into a glacier. Another time, climbing Mt. St. Helens, an ice
block broke off above his rope team with a crack that was heard all over
the mountain. The team jumped into a narrow downslope crevasse and held
on. The ice block went to the right and rolled right over the tracks of
the rope team ahead of them, exactly where they would have been in less
than three minutes.
like that have a Zen quality about them," he said. "They focus
the mind to the total exclusion of everything else. There's a feeling
of peace and great contentment in the midst of the most awful danger and
risk, and so people climb to experience that peace and tranquility."
combines his love of climbing with his desire to communicate by teaching
beginning rock climbers at a Portland community college.
he returned to his early love of agates and finished his book Other
Lake Superior Agates (not the most common banded ones), which was
published this summer.
Marshall is a full-time dad to his two adopted children, Angela and Daniel,
just entering their teens. Parenting, climbing and revising his book on
agates, he's done what he set out to do when he reached the pinnacle of
Mt. Lassen at the age of 19 -- he's gone places you can't go if you don't
Ellinger is a freelance writer from California.
on this article, e-mail email@example.com