GENIUS UNSUNG Michael Rouse born in “42" in Fredonia, New York into an environment of character, honesty and education established by his mother Volaria and his father Edger absorbed from his surroundings the foundation for thought, logic, imagination and finally genius. Tutored and doted over by his four sisters, Shirley, Marilyn, Kay and Sharon, Michael traversed the seas of lower and higher academia with the ease of a seasoned navigator. His last Eastern port of learning, “Middlebury College,” rewarded him with a “Master of Arts” in literature. And complementing his “Masters Degree” was a genius score that landed him in the top ten percent of the “Mensa Society” guaranteeing him a position with the “Library of Congress,” where it was said, if given enough time he would have memorized every damned book in the building. Not ready to immerse himself into bureaucratic obscurity, he turned in his library card, packed a metaphorical bag with a first class education, a memory that refused to forget and a logic so pure it would shine light on the most tangled and obscure ideas. Arriving in Reno, Nevada in “68", “The Biggest Little City in the World”, he embraced Reno’s paradoxical moniker with a paradox of his own–the “Antiwar Movement.” Passion and righteousness fueling his speeches displayed for the first time an intellect that shone so brilliantly it left audiences cheering enthusiastically. How could they not? Truth and logic when presented passionately yield the most devout followers. Having mastered the art of public speaking, and realizing that logic and passion alone could not overcome the ignorance and prejudice of Nevada’s politics, he looked southward to test the purity of mathematics in the casinos of Las Vegas. There amidst garish light illuminating the green felt of tables and the entranced stares of greed, he mathematically attacked the game of “21" skillfully and brilliantly to no avail. Again emotion his nemeses–this time his own. He over-bet the count and succumbed to hunches, leaving him disappointed and despondent. But from frustration of his loss came an important lesson. He learned he must understand emotion and motive if he were to fathom the development of the human experience. Driven by an insatiable curiosity, he attacked the archives of philosophy, religion and literature like an embattled Monk seeking the truth of the scriptures. As his knowledge grew, Michael picked and chose from the writings of such authors and philosophers as Aristotle, Thomas Aquinas and Shakespeare until each became a part of the circuitry that defined him. A discourse with Michael–depending upon the topic–might yield the views of every major thinker from the time of the pyramids to the present. One example of his academic prowess was displayed in a “Good Will Hunting” scenario at the Harvard Pub when an ivy league stereotype complete with a smirk sat down at Michael’s table. “Are you here for a visit?” Asked the ivy leaguer pleasantly enough. But then said condescendingly without waiting for a reply, “Am I correct in ascertaining that you might find the patter of this establishment a bit overwhelming?” “Not at all,” replied Michael, adopting western clarity and tone. “To be honest, pardner, I’m more disappointed than overwhelmed. I’m afraid the patrons’ patter failed to be glib or entertaining. All I’ve heard are conclusions based on opinions and arguments without proof or substance, which surprises me, considering Harvard is the number one law school in the U.S. Perhaps you can overwhelm me with a thought or two that will pique my interest and allow me to voice a few ideas of my own.” “What makes you think I would waste my time talking to a stranger who probably wouldn’t recognize a hallowed hall if he were standing in one. But if you’re up to a few rounds of humiliation and castigation I’ll be more than happy to oblige you.” Michael, head half bowed, smiling and looking upward into the eyes of his pompous adversary replied, “Choose your discipline, topic or any other damned subject that you feel will so overwhelm me I’ll be compelled to cut out my tongue. May I suggest you use broad strokes to display the vast knowledge that your ivy league education has bestowed upon you.” With the words “ broad strokes” Michael had played to the ivy leaguer’s ego which had broadened the argument to include Michael’s specialty--every topic under the sun. The ivy leaguer was done before he could voice his first hypotheses. Opening with law, his discipline, he immediately uttered what he thought a foundation and an absolute. He couldn’t have been more mistaken. He had trapped himself into a contradictory maze without exit Michael ripped into his foundation with the efficiency of a bulldozer on a dig by questioning the ivy leaguer’s philosophical, and religious sources. Seeing his error, the Harvard man attempted to broaden his argument and found himself so overwhelmed with Michael’s barrage of facts and quotations that the majority of his retorts were limited to one word–huh? After extracting more (huhs?) than answers, Michael not always the gentleman said, “Thus far you’ve done a credible job of arguing law, but your limited knowledge of philosophy, and literature has you laying foundations without substance, forcing you to rely upon the hot air of opinion instead of the cool soothing breezes of knowledge and fact. Would you care to argue that assertion?” The ivy leaguers eyes locked into a 1000 yard stare stood up from the table, then without a word bolted to the nearest exit leaving Michael with the check. “Hmm...” said Michael. “Not as dumb as I thought.” Returning from hallowed halls to glitzy casinos housing greed and vice, Michael made one more stop before embarking upon his true calling–teaching. Learning every game and every aspect of casino management, he climbed its internal ladder in record time to obtain the position of corporate security where he oversaw the entire casino operation. No dealer, customer, or manager could escape his vigilant gaze, guaranteeing a square gamble for house and customer alike. Not satisfied with a job well done, he tapped into his past and created a profit yielding system that revealed the effectiveness of card counters, and their impact on casino gaming. Because his findings were revolutionary and contrary to what was considered the wisdom of the day, he had little success incorporating his ideas. Had casino executives understood and possessed the capacity to learn Michael’s systems, percentages and new players would have abounded instead of declining into the lower numbers of today--another example of genius being outsmarted by corporate ignorance. Trading green felt for ivy, Michael ,beginning as a substitute, crept upon teaching carefully. He subbed every course in high school’s curriculum to hone his communication skills by confronting the toughest and most distracted of audiences –teenagers. Michael was heard to say, “Communicating with the demented is much easier than trying to penetrate raging hormones and colliding brain tissue.” Michael studied his students as intensely as his curriculum. He looked and listened to gauge the impact of his words to see if any of what he imparted would settle into gray matter and perhaps become part of the thinking process. Yes, piece by piece he formulated lectures that sported all the bells and whistles: content, emphasis, analogy, timing. More importantly he entertained by triggering emotions. Humor, pathos, anger, and surprise awakened lethargic brains from their indifferent slumber to ingest and retain the subjects revealed before them. After a time Michael’s reputation as an educator--part time at that--became the buzz of the Washoe County School system. Students and teachers alike could be found filling seats to listen to the teacher philosopher who brought light and clarity no matter what the subject–a teacher’s teacher at last. While honing his trade and working part time as a dealer, Michael feeling incomplete, dialed Fredonia, New York to court a love from his past, Patricia Botti. The calls became encounters and the encounters became togetherness fulfilling his need to be with a partner he loved and trusted. Now whole as a person and an educator, Michael was ready to fulfill his destiny–to enlighten and instruct all who would listen to the history of the world as seen through the eyes of William Shakespeare. Using “Humanities” as a bridge to link history, philosophy, and literature to the “Bard”, he stood at the podium part teacher part actor to capture the essence of each subject and to inject into a theme’s substance the appropriate words of Shakespeare. Michael’s ability to define, clarify and entertain left students spellbound. His characterizations of the players due to his time spent as a dialogue director were flawless. Each segment of history elucidated by the constant of human nature illustrated that little of man’s conduct had changed, which opened the portals of reason to acknowledge that the real progress of humankind depends on understanding motivation and influence of the human psychic Once understood, the basest conduct could be dissected, then piece by piece be reassembled to change mans inhumanity to man. A lofty goal indeed. But by embracing every aspect of the humanities, valid conclusions and cool reason can dilute the poisoned pools of opinion and the sickness of inhumanity. Whether student or friend, time spent with Michael was a glimpse into brilliance. The darkness of ignorance soon exposed was banished and replaced by the dawning light of knowledge and hope. Anyone blessed enough to bask in the spirit of Michael’s aura will forever see the world in a different way. Though teaching classes at Trukee Meadows Community College limited his exposure to the numbers at hand, he still for two years running captured the award of part time teacher of the year. A small tribute indeed for the enormity of the task achieved, nevertheless praises sung if only in a whisper. Songs of genius are seldom belted out on stage with thousands cheering. Instead they tend to whisper softly but emphatically in the sound room of the mind. And often songs never heard find their way through blood and genes to forever play in the hearts of a genius’s offspring. Yes, Michael’s son Doug and Doug’s two children Chandler and Cameron may forever hear hope’s song. Never, never let it be said that the genius of Michael went unsung, for in my every thought his tune lingers to guide me and others towards the light. Chester Smith