J. Kim Vandiver ’68

I was in the 4th Bates class in 1965, She and Critch gave me the gift of flight, done the Bates way.

Iris and Howard Critchell and the Bates experience had life changing on hundreds of us. This was what Isabelle Bates had in mind when she provided the initial funding. My first flight was November 30th, 1965 in my sophomore year. It was 18 minutes with Critch and two others from El Monte AP to Brackett in N8396Xray. The thrill of doing the takeoff with Critch talking me through it was incredible. Six months later I was the sacrificial lamb sent to the FAA for my flight test. Looking back on it, I marvel at their ability to see into the heart and mind of each of us. They knew when to push and when to handle with care. They made us special and kept us humble at the same time. Being roasted at the annual Herman Glutz gathering was funny and embarrassing. Iris flew P-51s during WWII. Critch was a music major turned B-24 pilot. Iris was this incredible fount of aviation knowledge. She lived it constantly. I recall one evening returning from a training flight at Brackett. Iris was at the wheel driving and explaining something aeronautical. I realized that she was unconsciously driving with the dashed lane divider markings centered on her virtual nose wheel.
We stayed in touch over the years. During a visit to their home in 1984 I found old Olympics memorabilia spread out on a coffee table. What’s this I asked, to which Iris said, “Oh, that’s something you don’t know about me. I was in the 1936 Olympics” as I looked at a program autographed by Jesse Owens. At 19 and 20 years old, we had no idea how truly special these people were, nor did we realize at the time that we were being imprinted for life by these talented, humble people who took us into their home and spent precious time with us. All of the Bates alumni eventually realized that the Critchells were so special that we would not be able to replace them, when it came time for them to step back from actively running the full flight program.
I am grateful that Iris was able to write “The Privilege of flight”, which gives us more insight to her life. Late in his time, I enjoyed visiting with Critch, of failing eyesight, as he repaired violins in his backyard workshop. I do miss Iris and Critch and will be forever grateful for their gifts.
Kim Vandiver ’68, CFI-Gliders.

Yvonne Guerra

Fan and fellow aviatrix

I met Iris many years ago as a budding student pilot and heard her speak repeatedly before local pilots groups. She was an inspiration; it was a privilege to hear her. Iris was self effacing and didn’t talk much about her incredible achievements. but she didn’t need to–we know who she was and all that she did. Please let us know if HMC will be hosting a public memorial honoring this great woman and great American.

Paul Paradise ’03

As with many others, Iris took me up on an “intro flight” as a student long after the Bates program itself was no longer. I expected a fun little plane ride, but what I got was a LESSON – years after the Bates program was officially over, she used our pre-flight checkout procedure and the entire flight to emphasize engineering and physics principles. I also remember how much trust she had in her students – allowing me as a first-time pilot to do pretty much everything save the final few seconds of landing.

Don Chamberlin ’66

Flight student

When I was accepted into the Bates Aeronautics program at Harvey Mudd in 1963, I knew right away that this was going to be one of the central experiences of my life. But it was later, when I learned more about Iris’ life and accomplishments, that I fully understood what a privilege it was to fly with her.

Among all the highlights of my life, my favorite one took place in April 6 – 8, 1964. Those were the dates of my Aero I cross-country flight, during Harvey Mudd’s Easter vacation. The crew for this trip included Iris, Critch, and six flight students, three in each of the Bates Cessnas, N8396X and N7961X. My student companions in N8396X were Dennis Glen and Dick Hartman.

On April 6, we flew from Brackett Field near Claremont to Santa Barbara, Paso Robles, Hollister, and San Francisco, where we stayed overnight. On April 7, we flew through the Central Valley to Oroville, then at 9500 feet altitude over the Donner Pass to Reno, then back to overnight at Sacramento. On April 8 we flew from Sacramento to Fresno and Bakersfield, then over the Tehachapi Pass to Fox Field in the high desert, then through the Cajon Pass and back to Claremont. It was dark when we landed at Brackett Field. After a light dinner, I went to my dorm room at Harvey Mudd and lay down on top of my bed to savor my experiences. I woke up about ten hours later, still with my clothes on and the room light on.

The level of trust invested by Iris and Critch in their flight students was astonishing. In the middle 1960s they purchased a Piper Cub, N70385, parked it at Brackett Field and made it available to Bates graduates. Some of Iris’ students earned their Flight Instructor ratings and used the Cub to instruct flight students of their own.

After I graduated from Harvey Mudd, my home in San Jose became a stopover for generations of Bates students on their cross-country flights. Each spring Iris would arrive at Hillview or San Martin airport with a new batch of students having the same adventures I had in 1964. My children always looked forward to Iris’ visits. I tried to introduce them to some of Iris’ wisdom about planning ahead. They still repeat what they learned from Iris about “thinking ahead of the airplane.”

My relationship with Iris, beginning as her flight student, turned into a lifetime of respect and friendship. She has been one of the most important influences in my life. I will miss her greatly.

Eric Alan ’81

Lifetime family friend

My family’s relationship with Iris Critchell began in 1948, eleven years before I was born, almost three decades before I became a student at Harvey Mudd College. Iris met my mother Shirley Blocki Froyd then, when both were accomplished young pilots. They began to fly together, and soon raced as pilot and co-pilot in the 1953 All-Woman Transcontinental Air Race (better known as the Powder Puff Derby). Alas, mechanical failures prevented them from repeating the 1952 results, when my mother won the race as a 26-year-old rookie.

By the time I was born in 1959, Iris and Critch were steady family friends. As a result, I have toddler memories of flying in the back seat of a Cessna, looking down in wonder. I also remember how Iris and Critch annually renewed our family subscription to National Geographic as a Christmas gift. As I grew, I was amazed to learn of Iris’s history as a swimmer in the 1936 Berlin Olympics, and her history of flying military airplanes cross country during World War II.

When I was in high school, my mother taught alongside Iris in the Bates Aeronautics Program at HMC, so I frequently tagged along to study in Thomas Garrett Hall while Mom taught flying. I soon prepared to enter college at Mudd myself, while my mom simultaneously prepared to leave it behind. She completed her tenure as a flight instructor in 1977, instead moving to the Oregon woods to build a log house with her own hands, and becoming a watercolor painter.

Just before my mom left, Iris arranged for the two of us to take off to Colorado in one of the Bates planes (pictured on the cover of Iris’s memoir, The Privilege of Flight). My mother flew while I rode, buzzing the Grand Canyon on the way home from an exhilarating flight together. Due to thunderstorms that forced us to land in Farmington, New Mexico, I almost didn’t get back to Mudd in time for freshman orientation. That journey remains one of the most precious memories I have, and it never would’ve happened without Iris.

Iris remained a family friend to the end, and it was always a pleasure to see her at my class reunions. I remained amazed by Iris’s vibrancy and continued sharp spirit, even as her age reached triple digits. I last spoke to Iris during the pandemic, when facilitating her calls to my mother, who was then in memory care before her passing. Iris told me then, how she was still going for a walk every day, nearly 85 years after she was an Olympic swimmer.

Iris also sent me a copy of her memoir, with a lengthy personal inscription I’ll forever cherish. Although my mother never got to see it, I was delighted to find stories in it regarding her, including a picture of her (on page 203). That too, I will forever cherish as much as all the flying.

Frequently, I think of what Iris and my mother and others went through, surviving the Great Depression, the rise of fascism, World War II, the McCarthy era, the Vietnam War, various assassinations, natural and societal disasters, and the myriad challenges of their personal lives. Both always seemed to come out of each challenge further strengthened, somehow still fiercely positive, and ready for another adventure. Now that Iris and Shirley have boarded their eternal flights, it is up to us to carry on with the same spirit of positive persistence, whatever the years ahead my hold. Thank you, Iris, for all the assistance in teaching us the art of soaring.

Louis Rossi ’88

Bates Class XXIV

No one could spend time with Iris and not be changed. Prior to meeting Mrs. C, I had never been near a small airplane, let alone touched one or climbed inside. Through the Bates program, she challenged us, brought us face-to-face with the unknown and filled us with confidence. Bates pilots were like no other, and flying became sacred to us. As all Batesers know, she introduced us to much more than flight. Since that time, my career has taken me far from my home state of California, but wherever I have gone and among all the things I have done, I credit Iris, the Bates Program and HMC in shaping my thinking and my approach. Over the decades, we stayed in touch. Whenever I found myself traveling back to Southern CA, I would visit Mrs. C. Over time, Iris met my wife and eventually my daughter and son. (It would be decades before I got used to calling her Iris.) I consider myself so fortunate to have had her in my life and in the lives of my family for the last few decades.

Of all the lessons learned from Iris – Olympic athlete, ground-breaking aviator, innovative and dedicated educator and mentor – I will just share one: Her admiration of and faith in each of her students, no matter what they pursued. I continued flying and becoming more proficient for many years after graduation. Eventually while on the faculty tenure track and starting to raise a family, I made the tough decision to put it aside for a while. Of course, her passion was aviation and meteorology, and I thought Iris might be disappointed in me. She was not. Rather, she was always interested and enthusiastic about what I was doing. She made me feel important and successful, and this was true of everyone in her massive extended family of former students, aviators and friends of Harvey Mudd. She was interested in and excited about what we were doing. The last time I visited her in person, she knew I was planning to circumnavigate the Delmarva peninsula in my sloop. When I arrived, she had prepared for my arrival by spreading maps and atlases out on her table so that I could walk her through where I was sailing, what challenges I would face and what preparations were involved. When we made the trip this last summer, she cheered me on via email and alerted me to a storm that might impact our route. “May the weather be favorable and you no doubt have more secluded bays to pause in while some of these wild summer storms go by. The one I see on the weather map at this time should pass fairly quickly.”

To bring this point home, when I heard the news of Iris’ passing, I mentioned it to my boss, who is the Provost. I remarked that I have been lucky to have had many great mentors, but Iris stood out. When I described her, my Provost asked me if I would send along an obituary because she would be interested in learning more about her. When I shared the NYT obituary, her immediate impression was, “I feel so boring in comparison!” That impression highlights what was so special about Mrs. C. She was a person of historic stature, but when you were in the room with her, she reminded you that you were interesting and important. She made those around her feel that their life had great purpose and that it was our sacred responsibility to develop our potential to achieve that purpose.

Michael Beug ’66

In the summer of 1962 as I was about to head off to Harvey Mudd College as a first-year student, a letter arrived from the Bates Foundation for Aeronautical Education. Thia letter invited Harvey Mudd students to apply for an aeronautical program to begin in the fall of 1962 under the direction of Iris and Howard ‘Critch’ Critchell. I was fascinated by flight but had never flown in a plane of any kind and besides, I was a chemistry student. Though I did not apply for that first year, I did go to a reception at Iris and Critch’s first Claremont home in a beautiful old white farm home in a lemon grove to learn about the program and drink lemonade.

My second year, after hearing the stories of the first ten students who then had their private pilot’s licenses and were getting their instrument training, and the stories of the second group of ten doing their private pilot training, I applied for the Bates Program. Much to my joy and surprise, I became one of the ten students selected for the third Bates group. My flight instructor was Critch. Iris both taught flight to half of the students and taught the ground school to all of us.

It was with disbelief, that on my very first trip to Bracket Field; after doing the preflight check of the plane, I was instructed to taxi and take off myself. Bracket did not yet have a tower, so I did not have to deal with radio communications, just look and go. I still clearly remember the thrill of being in the air for the first time and the views from the sky.

Another day, I was at Bracket Field early, and I saw another student doing his first short field take-off with Iris. Then suddenly I saw the plane plunging steeply towards the runway, pulling out at the last minute. She had shut off the gas, and on my turn Critch did it to me. Years later I learned that Critch and Iris no longer cut fuel on short field take-offs, but I will never forget that lesson.

Then there was the day that Ken Orloff was flying with Iris, and they took a Turkey Vulture through the windscreen out near Ontario, International. Iris took over for the emergency landing. I saw Ken covered in blood, but the blood was from the bird. We were not supposed to see the plane, but I did and the headliner was torn and bird parts were everywhere.

Later, I learned about B-52 wing tip vortices when I flew across the approach corridor to March Field not long after a B-52 had passed. I thought the wings would tear off.

Another lesson came when on a two day cross country flight. On my leg I was asked to stay at 1,000 feet above ground level. I soon realized that I was too low to spot landmarks and I still had to find the airport – a lesson that has served me many times out to sea salmon fishing when the fog rolled in and I had to get back to the dock relying on compass, time, current and distance.

When we all took our Private Pilot’s License, the examiner commented that most people drive their airplanes. He noted that all of us flew our aircraft.

Six years later, now as an HMC Faculty member paying to fly with Critch and Bates students, I took off from Reno with a full load of fuel. The climb-out was 50 feet/minute and I needed a good 500 feet/minute to get back over the Sierra Mountains. Critch just asked how I would solve the problem. Remembering Iris’s ground school lessons about airflow over ridges, I diverted to a ridgeline, soaring to 9,000 feet , turning out of turbulent down-wind areas as needed, looping ever higher. Today, thanks to Iris, I am always studying the clouds, especially how lenticulars form and dissolve, and remembering all that I gained from the Bates Program.

I use the knowledge when drifting rivers in a McKenzie River drift boat where the curved bottom provides lift analogous to a wing. One morning launching the boat in the dark on a fishing trip in Washington State with Critch, a jagged rock holed the side of the boat as we slid it from the trailer. We did not notice. We crossed the Cowlitz River and bank and fished until daylight. Then I spotted the hole. Critch had a serious critique about by pre-drift boat inspection while I rowed us back to where we had launched the boat, our planned float trip ruined.

In later years after my wife and I returned to the Northwest, we would sometimes return to Claremont to visit and stay at the Bates Motel. One summer on vacation, Iris and Critch picked us up at Everett Field and let me fly the last leg to the San Juan Islands for a week of camping and visiting.

When Boeing opened the World War II Museum at Boeing Field, Iris spoke at the dedication. We were her two guests and afterwards she took us on a tour of the museum where she told us about the flight characteristics and peculiarities of every plane in the exhibit. She also told us about most of the American and Russian pilots – she had known so many of them. Soon the docents were all listening in and following us. The depth of her knowledge and her passion were simply amazing. We topped the day off with a visit to Pinky Nelson’s astronaut display in another part of the museum.

A few years later when she was on Whidbey Island visiting Pinky Nelson, we got to bring our young boys to visit with Pinky who had been a Senior the year I taught at HMC.

Iris is always in my thoughts. I have only flown with Critch and Iris, but though I no longer fly (I learned that safe flying was not something you can do when only flying from time to time), it has profoundly changed my world view and keeps me attentive. When I do on rare occasions take a commercial flight, I am attentive to details on the plane. On one flight I had a window seat looking out over a wing and noticed that a whole row of rivets was popped. I knew from Iris’s teaching that the upper part of the wing had low air pressure that was causing the rivets to lift, but that would not be noticed when back on the ground. I quietly jotted a note to a stewardess asking her to have someone come back from the cockpit and look. She thought it was a hijack attempt and turned very pale. Soon a flight officer came and sat beside me without catching the attention of the other passengers and noted where to have the ground crew look once we landed.

Iris and I exchanged emails once or twice a year. The last time I visited her we visited The Bates and Harvey Mudd Heritage Library and discussed ideas on how to keep it staffed. Then we talked about aviation history until the wee hours of the morning. Her vigor, dedication and enthusiasm are outstanding. She has positively affected so many lives. She will be sorely missed.

Rachel (Ray) Levy

I met Iris, like many HMC faculty, through the Critchell professorship, and subsequent work with Iris on the aero scholarships. We became closer when the Critchell professors delivered Sunday dinners over the last year of Critch’s life so that Iris could get out to fly then come home to dinner and some company. Over time Iris and I worked closely together on the Bates reunions and other special occasions. We also wrote down her stories for the HMC Aero Library collection.

Iris frequently expressed her hope that future Mudders would understand why there’s an Aviation Room in the cafeteria, and how the values and practices in the Bates program are at the core of an HMC education. Learning to fly wasn’t about controlling an airplane or travelling efficiently. It was about developing the combination of mental, physical and communication skills that could serve students throughout their lives, combined with the support of a family-like community and a good dose of humility+humor.

Though she was not a librarian, Iris spent decades collecting artifacts of the HMC Bates aeronautics program and related Southern California aviation history. She had lived it and knew most of the characters. She loved showing new scholarship recipients this collection and introducing them to the people that their scholarships were named after. While there probably won’t be a library at Mudd, I think there are some great ways that students can continue to explore HMC’s Aero collection, which has been cataloged by Michael Palmer and is located at the Claremont Colleges Library. By sharing what they learn at HMC, they can connect ideas from Bates and the origins of the college with the current community.

Iris impressed upon others who wanted to present her with accolades that her achievements were possible because she was well prepared by her parents and in the right place at the right time. We also know how diligently she worked to continue that preparation and share it forward.

When mapping became electronic, she continued her preparation by purchasing an iPad. She enlisted several folks to help her set it up and put it through it’s paces. My job was to deal with the login and associated security questions. After entering her birthyear as 1920, it asked her to enter her first car. Iris laughed and responded, “That’s not a security question. Everyone’s first car was a Ford!”

One of my favorite recent memories from her 103rd year was on a visit when Iris wanted to take a walk. She dragged her walker behind her to the door with me laughing and exclaining “I don’t think that’s how the walker is supposed to work!” I was supposed to be watching out for her but at one point when I thought we had stopped for a short rest and to admire some flowers I decided to take a picture. When I looked up she had taken off down the block – so I have a picture of her leaving me in the dust and having to run to catch up.

Swimming in the Iris’s backyard pool was always a treat – it took me years to get up the courage to ask permission. The swims into her 103rd year always included a lesson about the weather and flight paths of planes spotted overhead. In these later years I have been privileged to get to know Iris’s children, Sandie and Robin, and longtime caregiver Becky.

Many have shared how Iris continues to be present in their lives through their thoughts and work. In our family a tradition is that when we see a small plane we wave and say, “Hi Iris!” Now my grandkids do it and they never even met her!

Thanks to everyone sharing memories. I am working with the college to make good on my promise to the Bates’ers and other friends of the program to collect their stories into a volume. There will be a place to share photos and a way to submit whole chapters. More on this after we celebrate Iris’s life this Spring. Look forward to seeing you then.

Arran Mcnabb ’06

Colleague

My relationship with Iris stemmed from her long-lasting, ever-present connection to the alumni of HMC. Her dedication to staying connected to her students long after their graduation was so endearing and the alumni have loved her back with all their hearts. Iris was such a strong, thoughtful, particular partner for newsletters and events, but was equally thankful for everything we did together. She loved this place and the people, and I am so grateful she chose to work with me and trusted me to help her for the last 12 years.

I didn’t know Iris personally when I was a student at Mudd. And have obviously learned of what an amazing life she lived. But the joy of Iris was her smile, her willingness to connect and listen, and her inability to leave a Bates Reception at a reasonable hour. What a beautiful character to have crossed paths with. All my love.

Russell Hamilton ’94

Barnstormers Club Co-Founder

I came to Harvey Mudd in the early 1990s, just as the Bates program ended. My dad was a recreational pilot so I had started flying lessons when I was 15, before Mudd. Iris wanted to continue to do something aviation related for Mudd students, so my classmate Matt Summers and I co-founded the Barnstormers Club at Mudd with Iris’s support.

Even though it wasn’t the Bates program, we still had plenty of exposure to the Southern California aviation community thanks to Iris’s lifetime of connections. We saw the underwater astronaut training tanks, went to Edwards Air Force Base to see the Space Shuttle land, and got to see the Stealth Bomber among other trips. It was such a special part of my Mudd experience.

I passed my flight exam and became a pilot the summer before my senior year in my dad’s Cessna 152. Now I fly a Cirrus SR22 out of the SF Bay Area (San Carlos), and have flown my classmates down to our Mudd reunions. I’m going to try to fly down for her memorial in May, to thank her for everything she did for us.