Robert M. Gogan Jr.

Robert M Gogan, Jr. Photograph by Stu Rosner Rob Gogan is Harvard's recycling and waste-management impresario. "It's a dream job,"...

Robert M Gogan, Jr.
Photograph by Stu Rosner

Rob Gogan is Harvard's recycling and waste-management impresario. "It's a dream job," says the associate manager of Facilities Maintenance Operations. Why? "Harvard is the wealthiest university in the world, and affluence produces effluence. It's a rich vein of ore for a recycler." In the lot behind his office, at 175 North Harvard Street in Allston, is a hodgepodge of discarded stuff free for the taking: 40 metal storage cabinets from the Fogg Art Museum ("They'll go quickly to a Cambridge or Boston school," Gogan predicts); yards of battered swimming-pool lane dividers from Malkin Athletic Center ("A summer camp in Andover may take them"); swivel chairs; calculators; microwave ovens. About 85 charities are regular takers, but any individual who wants a thing may have it. Reusers "recover the utility" of at least 80 percent of these discards. It wasn't always so. In 1990 Gogan was working on a doctorate at the School of Education (he taught English for 10 years before that) when he became interested in recycling and saw that waste was endemic at Harvard. He made a pest of himself and got a summer job to demonstrate why a full-time recycling job made sense. He demonstrated, and got it. The University recycled 5 percent by tonnage of its waste--paper, cans, et cetera; these days a third goes around again. Gogan disseminates an e-mail newsletter at Harvard to report on recycling progress (and local flora and fauna sightings sent in by his readers) and to encourage a sense of community in a famously decentralized place. He feels good about providing people with opportunities to recycle: "Recycling gives everyone an easy way to achieve a little environmental grace."

       

Most popular

All That’s Unseen charts the Harvard graduate’s uneasy journey from Appalachia to Cambridge and back.  

An animal’s journey from grief to love shows how much humans need each other, too.

In 1954, Gregory Corso moved into Eliot House. How he stayed there is a literary legend.

Explore More From Current Issue

Smiling woman stands beside a large skull in a display cabinet.

From competing in youth gymnastics to studying tetrapods, the Harvard curator has always chased her curiosity.

University Hall with steps and the John Harvard statue, surrounded by trees and a grassy lawn.

Long-discussed reorganization includes layoffs and the end of the Dudley Community.

A smiling elderly man in glasses sits comfortably in a striped armchair.

Plus, veteran higher education leader Thomas Ehrlich reflects on university curricula for his 70th reunion