Cambridge Center for Behavioral Studies - Og Lindsley/A Remembrance

Ogden Lindsley died on Sunday, October 10, 2004. I lost my life long teacher and friend and the discipline lost one of its true pioneers. Although few realize it, with the passing of Ogden Lindsley, the Cambridge Center lost the scientist whose work certifies the validity of its mission statement. Ogden devoted his life to the proposition that a natural science of behavior could convey benefits to the culture and perhaps thereby avert recurrence of such tragedies as World War II. While Skinner advanced this notion in his many writings, it was his student Lindsley that first acted on it and our world was forever changed for the better.

Ogden will be remembered for his many attributes. He was brilliant, he was witty, he was a master showman, he was a stern taskmaster, he was a gentle counselor and a dependable friend in times of trouble. During the 43 years of our friendship, I saw all of these characteristics and more. For me, however, one word above all others explains my admiration of Ogden. That word is courage. Ogden had the courage to go where none had gone before, well aware that the penalties for challenging conventional wisdom with science can be severe. Perhaps this courage was acquired during his escape from a German POW camp near the end of World War II. Perhaps he found it in the lives of the great scientists whom he admired as much for their sacrifice as for their contributions. Galileo, Pavlov, Bernard were names he revered. Whatever its source, Ogden’s courage enabled him to extend Skinner’s work to humans and provide facts where previously there had been only hope. Because of Ogden’s work, the promise of behavioral technology was realized and millions of people are benefiting from it every day.

The Cambridge Center exists because of this reality. We therefore owe to Ogden Lindsley not only this tribute at the time of his passing, but our continuing dedication to our purpose which was also so clearly his. In so doing we will truly honor our friend.

If you would like to add your remembrances to those below, please send them to our webmaster.

Lindsley, O. (2004, October 6) Love from Og. Message posted to http://lists.psu.edu/archives/sclistserv.html

I am saddened to hear of your recent news. I want you to know how much your contributions to behavior analysis have meant to me and so many others, including all of my students over the years.

I first met you in 1968 when I was in graduate school in the University of Florida. You may recall that Hank had arranged for you to conduct a trainers workshop on the chart. Ever the eager graduate student, prior to your arrival I naively wrote you asking for reprints of all of your publications. A few weeks later, I received three large envelops containing the dozens of papers you had published during your Harvard years (I still have them, of course). Though I was still learning about behavior analysis, I was so impressed at the creativity and accomplishment represented by your early work. It was clear that your thinking about behavior and what we needed to learn was far ahead of the field. I’m sorry to observe that in some ways it has never caught up to where you were even then. I have continued to promote your early work along many dimensions. Your conceptualization of what to ask about behavior and how to measure it remains the standard for me in what it means to conduct applied behavior analyses. (By the way, you may recall that you lent Hank one of the conjugate reinforcement devices back in the mid-70s. We got it repaired to working order by giving it to university technicians along with a copy of "Deep Throat" to test it with. We were never able to use it in a research project, however, because the equipment was just too fragile and would not have held up.)

The trainers workshop was one of the highlights of my graduate career. Your approach to measurement through the chart was a seminal influence on me, as well as Hank and the others in attendance, not to mention the countless behavior analysts, teachers, and students since. Of course, the chart in 1968 was very much still under development, and your behavior bank system was obviously way ahead of the computer industry. The chart has always been my default graphic display of behavioral data, and I have promoted it ceaselessly in my career. As you may know, it remains in the task standards of the Behavior Analyst Certification Board for Board Certified Behavior Analysts, which means that all applicants for certification must learn it, thus helping to drive a continuing demand for the manuals of Hank and others, as well as the chart itself.

My acquaintance with you early in my career was important in many ways. Your patience and mentoring was revealed when I did a horrible presentation in a symposium on charting at an APA convention in 1971; I practically emptied a large room. That evening you gave me a copy of one of you recent publications (signed, "Love, Og") and gently observed that "we" needed to learn how to make good presentations so we could promote the chart. Some of your guidance has had stayed with me over the years, such as your comment that it was important to do research on questions guided by one’s curiosity and not just the literature. A related recommendation was to arrange my career to avoid chasing reinforcers controlled by others. I have not always achieved this standard, but I have certainly tried.

And the many memories… Serving on the ABA Executive Council when you were president. Staying up all night at ABA one year with you, Hank, Julie, and others singing and telling stories (remember the harmonica player knocked on the door at 3:00 in the morning and joined us?), and then going to breakfast. Running a 10K race with you at one of the early ABAs. Watching you present at ABA countless time, and marveling at your ability to capture an audience. Perhaps most of all, listening to you talk about behavior and how to study it or change it and being impressed with your reasoning and strategic thinking. I have truly learned so much from you that has been important in my career.

I wish for your days to be filled with pleasure of Nancy’s company and satisfaction with a career and life of enormous influence on so many others. Behavior analysis will never be the same, and its debt to you will never end.

I first saw Og Lindsley in the big dining room of the Blackstone Hotel, overlooking Michgan Avenue in Chicago, where an "International" MABA meeting was held in the mid 1970s. Og had two overhead projectors and a tape recorder. While the audience digested one overhead, Og was switching the other, and talking about both with the acumen and panache of a Barnum and Bailey ringmaster. He led us through the data, he let it speak to us, comparison by comparison, step by step, condition by condition. With the data, an anecdote.

He told of a classroom where Precision Teaching was employed. A young student asked her teacher, "If you are our coach, and Mr. Smith is your coach, and Mr. Lindsley is Mr. Smith's coach, then was Dr. Skinner Mr. Lindsley's coach?"

As the rhythm of the data continued, Og kept putting up the overheads. As we saw the progress laid before us, he stopped talking, kept showing us data, and played the Crosby Stills and Nash song, "Teach Your Children Well." I may have the details wrong, but twenty five years later, Og's data and message rings in my eyes and ears. And I bet the crystal chandlier is still shaking. Science doesn't get any better than that.

I was not one of his Harvard or Kansas students, but he was my coach, in less than an hour. "You, who are on the road, must have a code, that you can live by – teach your children well."

Thank you, Og, for pushing me, taunting me, cajoling me, challenging me, telling me when I was wrong, and at least occasionally, telling me when I was right. You were a harsh master, but it must have been tough with all of us "standing on your shoulders." I learned a great deal from you. I will never forget you. Thank you.

Eric Haughton introduced me to Ogden R. Lindsley at a Precision Teaching conference in Kansas City in 1977. Og was in his favorite cowboy boots, his best string tie and his best humor. No handshake, just a big bear hug and compliments on my work with Eric. Along with Eric, and Zig Engelmann , Ogden became my third major maverick mentor.

He was a staunch supporter of my decision to launch Quinte Learning Centre "to take learning to the streets" as he called it. A year later when Kent Johnson followed in my path and created Morningside Academy, Og publicly praised our efforts and encouraged others to follow. A few more have and others are beginning to.

As we succeeded and grew, Og counseled, criticized, upbraided and comforted us. In 1998, as my company lay in ruins after lengthy and costly litigation, Ogden commiserated with us and reminded us that we learn from our learning opportunities, not from our corrects. He encouraged me learn from the error and to begin again.

Ogden was fascinated by the influence of Zig Engelmann and Direct Instruction had in my centers. He agreed to share the stage in a joint presentation with Zig at ABA. With Eric as Chair, and Anne Desjardins presenting our school's data, these two educational giants had ample opportunity to question, comment and criticize. Although the event met with immediate and animated response in an overflowing session, our attempt to cross-fertilize these two powerful methods resulted in little long-term effect. The limited success has also been distinctly one-sided, with many PT practitioners adopting DI and few, if any, DI advocates learning PT. We still have a long way to go in synthesizing the three most effective behavioral educational methodologies on the planet. "Little steps for little feet" as Ogden taught us.

Ogden is the Francis Galton of the 21st century. Galton gave us the first consistent way to measure and compare events with the normal curve and statistics. Ogden has taken us through a quantum leap to frequency, celeration and fluency allowing us not only to measure, but to anticipate behavioral change. His genius, his tenacity and his scientific integrity have provided us great gifts. His legacy will last only as long as his followers expand and deepen its roots.

Just as Skinner mused about "We few, we happy few, but why so few", Ogden often bemoaned the fact that we lose 8/10 of the Precision Teachers that we train. "They come all excited. We train them, and we never see them again," he once complained to me. When Og asked that we honor him by each working on some existing research question, I would suggest that studying our attrition rates could be a logical place to begin. Any entity that consistently loses 8/10 of its new members may be following in the steps of the dodo bird and the passenger pigeon. Let's find a way to stop the bleeding.

Our standard bearer has fallen; the banner has been dropped. As his faithful cohort, we need to step forward, pick up the standard and press on with his memory to strengthen and sustain our work. The ultimate honor that we can pay to Ogden R. Lindsley's long life of leadership will be seen in our management of the rich legacy he has bequeathed us and especially to its role in our society a decade from now.

I don't remember the first time I met Og, but his life seems to have been woven with mine since before I was born. His father and my uncle were friends in the 1920s, active together in their Brown University Phi Gamma Delta fraternity alumni work. While I didn't hear stories of Og when I was growing up, I got quite a reaction from my aunt and uncle when I showed them my University of Kansas Ph.D. graduation photo with Og in his crimson robe. "Oh! We knew his father! That boy, with his sandy-colored hair, was quite a handful! His younger brother, Bradford, however, was a bit quieter and better behaved." Yet again, after his World War II service, he was a patient at Cushing Hospital in Framingham, Massachusetts, the town where I grew up. My mother and another aunt were Grey Ladies at Cushing during and after the war. Recently, I learned our lives had woven together even earlier in New England history when our ancestors journeyed together across the Atlantic in 1620.

Knowing Og professionally has always seemed a continuation of my own New England roots and goals – educate yourself well, strive high, never, ever give up, and do something to make this world a better place for others.

In 1967, I began to use the most powerful tool to change human behavior: the Standard Celeration Chart. One of the beauties of this frequency-based chart is that learning never stops. I still learn and change my teaching based on charted information whether it's helping students learn to read better, helping people change how they interact with others, or teaching children and adults to lead healthier lives by changing their inner behaviors. As 2004 draws to a close I realized what happened to my thoughts and writing when, this year, I lost two dear, long-time friends who had impacted my life greatly. My writing charts showed a dramatic deceleration or cessation in my writing behaviors last winter and this fall when each of them died. Without the chart, I'd only be able to give some rambling verbal description such as feeling very sad.

When studying with Og, he and his wife, Nancy, and my husband, Robert, and I began to get together socially; Robert even worked for one of Nancy's businesses for a while. While I enjoyed Og for his creativity, boldness, brilliance, wit and humor, Robert enjoyed him because he was so down to earth. On our return to Topeka from one of our visits to their Stull ranch for the afternoon and a late dinner, we commented how comfortable it was to be with them. The next day, as I told a mutual friend of being at Og and Nancy's the day before, she said, "Don't you find them a bit odd?" "No," I replied. "We finally found another couple like us."

It is my honor and privilege to continue my friendship and charting relationship with Og not only as I serve as chair of Og's Archives Committee but also as I stand on his shoulders to continue my own work.