The news of Java Jive’s closing inspired me to reflect a bit
on coffee’s role in my research. A strong
hint lies in the first two paragraphs of my 1998 book Understanding Cognitive Science:
“The
psychology department at the University of Western Ontario has a coffee room on
the seventh floor of the Social Sciences and Humanities Center that offers an
attractive view of the deciduous forest northwest of the campus. When I was a graduate student in the
department, the room was maintained by Jim Webster, whose voice was as gruff as
his coffee. Jim has retired now, and has
been replaced by an impressive-looking vending machine. The machine may make better coffee, but it
can’t replace the chat with Jim that was part of the coffee room ritual.
Conversation
is what the coffee room was all about. At
any time of the day, you could go there and find a handful of department
members talking to one another. Of
course, much of the time the topics discussed were the same as those discussed
in any coffee room in any organization: gossip, politics, and sports. In addition, though, there was a generous
amount of “shop talk”. Faculty would
test research ideas out on each other, would describe some of their latest
results, and would discuss problems that were arising with one project or
another. As a student, you could learn a
lot by buying the occasional cup of Jim Webster’s coffee.”
When I finally progressed to
having large enough lab space, I ensured that it included a component to serve
as my version of Jim Webster’s coffee room.
The central fixture is a small Krups espresso machine that I bought
refurbished for a handful of dollars many years ago, conveniently located
beside a lab sink. At the other end of
the lab counter is a Krups burr grinder.
The espresso machine has delivered fine coffee for years, but we have
made so much espresso that we replaced the grinder – twice! Four bookcases, containing the lab’s
excellent cognitive science library, provide a backdrop to a couple of
scrounged couches and a reclining armchair.
Some ambient lighting set the mood for coffee, conversation, and
cognitive science.
The espresso machine in the Biological Computation Project. The blackboard contains some recent work that the machine has fueled.
Setting that conversational mood
is important, because we conduct the important business of the lab over coffee,
at any time of day. I despise formal lab
meetings; as a result, my attempts to organize them have repeatedly
failed. Coffee talk is completely
different – spontaneous, unconstrained, relaxed, and freewheeling. It can be about anything. Of course, over the years it has been.
Rufus relaxing in the lab's coffee room, near the espresso machine.
Many coffee chats explored the
routine (progress reports on thesis and research projects, discussions of lab
equipment needs, requests for actions or materials related to a research,
writing, or teaching need). Many have
been strategy sessions about how to deal with reviewer comments on a
manuscript, or about what studies to conduct or write up next. There have been debates about protocols for
computer simulation code, brainstorming sessions about problems with
mathematical proofs or artificial neural network interpretations, and
celebrations of papers or books being published. There has been career counselling,
evaluations of job offers to students, and discussions of serious life
problems. One famous session with a
colleague resulted in a complete simulation study conducted over a half hour of
coffee; it was under review a day later, my fastest publication ever. My lab is right beside the room that I teach
my night courses in, so many coffee chats have been before and after class, and
have involved my undergraduates. Unfortunately,
I have contributed more than my fair share of venting and foul language; I
should take this moment to apologize for such behavior!
The coffee room setting is
critical to the function of my lab, and is fundamental for my ability to
develop and explore ideas. My students agree. When I visited one of my graduates in
Fredericton, his lab was a clone of mine, with ambient lighting, comfortable
chairs, and an espresso machine. The most recent master’s thesis to come from
my lab begins with a dedication to coffee.
I store my lab beans in a coffee tin that was hand decorated by another
PhD student, and given as a thank you after her defense.
My favorite coffee tin, alongside the lab's latest grinder.
Of course, the trouble now is that my prime supplier of beans for that tin is retiring. I visited the Java Jive warehouse yesterday to pick up some fresh coffee. In addition, I was lucky enough to purchase a poster from them that was the result of a 1980s design competition for a group of University of Alberta fine arts students. I will be adding that poster to the lab ambience as soon as possible. We will miss Java Jive; they have been an important (and likely unknowing) contributor to our research for a long time.
It's great to read such praise for Java Jive, Dr. Dawson!
ReplyDeleteI first discovered Java Jive in Hub Mall in about 1979 as an undergraduate English student. That original hole-in-the-wall shop sustained me through my B.A and my M.A. (Old English Poetry). Later I became a regular at the (at the time) new Old Strathcona Coffee Factory before it became the Next Act pub.
In more recent years I've regularly gone to the roasting place on 77th. Just before the closure was announced, I finished painting a portrait of John the roastmaster as part of my upcoming exhibition of portraits of community members (http://www.facebook.com/events/518908418127393/).
As soon as I heard the grim news I ran down there and discovered that John had already moved on to a new career. I bought five pounds of beans and one of the posters you mention in your piece.
I don't know what I'll do when the coffee runs out. It's the only place I've gone for coffee since I was about seventeen, almost thirty-five years ago.
Again, thank you for your celebration of a sadly departing local treasure.
John Richardson
Lovely blog you have herre
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