Vasta, Ross (7/23/2000)

Ross F. Vasta, distinguished Teaching Professor at the State University of New York at Brockport, died on July 23, 2000 at the age of 52. Ross presented at several ABA conferences, although in recent years, he was more likely to be spotted at SRCD, APA or APS. While he taught behavioral courses at Brockport, he was primarily a developmental psychologist, and that is where most of his research was focused. Throughout his career he maintained a fundamentally scientific approach to the analysis of development that made him a champion for the role of learning in child development and a friend of behavior analysis.

Ross was born April 5, 1948. He grew up in the small town of Chester, New York. After graduating early from a high school class of only 26 students, Ross went to Dartmouth where he majored in psychology. Always precocious, his first two publications were from work done at Dartmouth.

Ross arrived as a graduate student at SUNY Stony Brook in the fall, 1989. This was a time of student activism, and Ross was instrumental in shaping the new developmental psychology program at Stony Brook. There, his most significant influence was Grover Whitehurst, who was Sidney Bijou's last graduate assistant at the University of Illinois. Whitehurst had just arrived as a new faculty member and was not much older than Ross. The two shared a common focus on child development as a science, and collaborated on several projects over the years, including research on modeling and language development and a 1977 textbook entitled Child Behavior. This became the standard text used by behavior analysts teaching child development in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s.

While a student at Stony Brook, Ross met his wife, Linda Hazel, a student in the Clinical Psychology Program Ross stayed an extra year at Stony Brook so that he could graduate with a joint Ph.D. in Developmental and Clinical Psychology with a strong background in behavior therapy and behavior analysis.

At Stony Brook, Ross had several opportunities to teach developmental courses and loved it. Upon graduation he accepted a position as Assistant Professor at Brockport where he remained for 26 years. His passion for teaching and working with students made him one of the most popular and inspirational professors on campus and was recognized by the Regents with the title of “Distinguished Teaching Professor”. At Brockport, Ross taught courses in applied behavior analysis as well as developmental psychology.

A product of the ‘60's, Ross wore his hair long, and although it became increasingly thinner, it didn't vary in length. The long dark hair and Fu Manchu moustache gave a somewhat ominous impression to strangers that was soon overcome by his glowing dark eyes and radiant smile. Ross was gregarious and talked to everyone and made them feel that he was truly interested in them, whether they were day laborers or deans, close friends or strangers. Among his wide range of interests was fine wine, and he may be remembered by some for the informal wine tastings he held in his room at conferences.

Among Ross' many characteristics were ingenuity and wit. He used these to good advantage, privately and professionally. Ross once informed his friends that he was “on the cover of Time Magazine with Susan Sarandon and Gena Davis.” Of course, we were incredulous and had to check. He wasn't kidding, but what he didn't bother to tell us was it was the back cover, not the front with Thelma & Louise. There was an ad for Toyota's homely new mini-van, and among the owner quotes was Ross': “My wife and I fight over who gets to drive the Previa. . . and our other car is a Mercedes." What he didn't tell the readers (and the ad agency) is that their other car was an 11-year old Mercedes whose body, ravaged by the cruel New York winters, looked like a lace doily.

Sometimes (rarely), Ross was too clever for his own good, such as once while we were publishing some research that we did at graduate school. In the study we were trying to determine if preschoolers could learn to label an arbitrary abstract concept through modeling alone, or if they needed imitation training (it turned out that modeling worked for comprehension, but training was necessary for motor and verbal production). Ross thought we should call the two concepts that we invented, a “Vas'' and a “Nov“ from the beginning of each of our names. Of course, the Vas was listed first. However, when two concepts proved to difficult for the children to learn, we reduced it to one, for which Ross suggested the name “VAK”, a combination of Vasta and Novak. I agreed realizing that the publication would list not only a “Vak” condition, but a “No Vak” condition as well. It was the one time I was able to outwit Ross!

Ross used these skills as a very effective editor. His personal charm and persuasiveness enabled him to recruit many of the biggest names to contribute to his edited books. One, based upon a symposium he arranged at a Society for Research in Child Development conference was an important updating of developmental theories by the original theorists. Ross made sure to include Donald Baer and Sidney Bijou so that the behavioral viewpoint was not left out, a decision that would have not been made by many other developmental psychologists. Without Ross' personality it would have been impossible to gather such an impressive group of scholars and, even more so, to nurture their symposium into a completed book. Similarly, Strategies and Techniques of Child Study assembled the works of leading researchers. Ross was able to use his skills through his long tenure as editor of the Annals of Child Development series, identifying and then convincing top researchers to commit to a review of their area.

At Brockport, Ross did not have the luxury of a lab of doctoral students continually pursuing research. This certainly limited the number of empirical studies he conducted, but not the quality. His work on physical child abuse, intrinsic motivation, and, Piaget's water level task, are wonderful examples of how to study complex topics with experimental rigor. His studies always focused the role of learning and environmental effects, often putting him at odds with the worldview of his developmental colleagues, but in harmony with his behavioral ones. Likewise, his first developmental methods book Studying Children included a chapter on single subject design and his current book. Developmental Psychology: The Modem Science, treats behavior analysis in a more favorable light that most of mainstream developmental texts.

His obituary in the Rochester newspaper concluded with the remarks that in addition to his love for his wife Linda, and his daughter Jamie and son Jeremy, Ross loved wine, golf, the Yankees, and a good cigar. They left out two other things he loved: people and science.

From The '69Times:

After the previous issues had been sent off to the College, I learned of the death of Classmate Ross Vasta. His wife, Linda Hazel, emailed me: “I wanted to inform you and the class of the death of my husband, Ross Vasta, class of ’69, in July of this year. It was very sudden and unexpected. Ross is survived his two children, Jamie and Jeremy, and myself.” The Class extends its condolences to Ross’s family. You can reach Linda at «LHaz48@aol.com».

Like so many others, Ross is another Classmate I did not know. I am not sure what I did for four years in Hanover, but Reunions have at least brought me together with so many others I never knew. I sent an email immediately to the 1969 Mailing List (I also sent along Ross’s submission to the 1969 25th Reunion Book; zap me and I will shoot it on to you) and got a few replies. One that I kept for publication was from Mike Vasey, who recalled the part of Ross’s essay which read: “One of my most vivid Dartmouth memories is standing shoulder-to-shoulder with classmates on the front steps of Parkhurst Hall in the early morning hours watching the caravan of buses carrying National Guardsmen to clear out the SDS students occupying the building. I was terrified, but the event burned a spot in me that still remains.” Mike wrote:

I too did not know Ross but I really appreciate David’s posting his 25th Reunion statement, and my heart goes out to his wife Linda and their children. My life was also changed profoundly by those events on campus in 1968. Arthur Fergenson must not have been out at Parkhurst the night of the take-over. I was there and was also both sick to my stomach with fear and anger at the scene. I remember the National Guard surrounding us in the back and the state police cordoning us off in the front. I think the SDS would have had much more support if people would simply have known what they were going to do. Instead, they kind of isolated themselves and made it easy for the police to take them away. The crowd of sympathizers outside Parkhurst was much larger than those inside. The Parkhurst takeover may not have had as much impact as was hoped by the SDS, but it sure had an impact on a lot of us who gained our first taste of police brutality. I also remember standing on the Green with those against the war, looking over at those for the war. It was a wrenching time. I hope our children don’t have to grow up in that way although I don’t doubt that it was an important ingredient in the stuff our class is made of.

I also received a thoughtful email note from Doug Reynolds («dcrkpm@email.msn.com»):

It would be hard for David’s messages—and Ross’s words—not to stir one’s feelings and thoughts. Linda, please accept my sympathies; I know the Class joins in that sentiment. I am sorry that I did not know Ross. Our children are 13 and 11, and that connection alone prompts me to reach out at this moment. The piece Ross wrote for our 25th has elicited this message. It reminds me of how many life stories there are out there—how many unexplored connections. I hope there are many more people watching these messages than we few who write (we could use some freshness).

Unknown to each of us, Ross and I shared for a lifetime the feelings of that night when the National Guard arrested our classmates. I won’t use their names, but two “brothers” in AD—69’s—were part of that brave (or naive, or somewhere-in-between) group. Several of us were up that night—all night—bearing witness to that event. I recall that overwhelming sense of disbelief—we just couldn’t believe that they really came and arrested our friends, took them away in a green bus, took them into custody. We turned off the keg, we sat in long periods of silence, we saw some reality not before seen about power and anger and fear. Two others in the “House-that-Chris Miller-and-Animal House-made-famous” had gone on a road trip to the Kentucky Derby. They returned on the dawn of the arrests. Pre-cell phones, pre-NPR, pre-internet and GPS, they had no clue what had transpired. We ruined their return. Other big road trips earned attention for a week, at least, but this one ended, unknowingly, in Norwich. And every Derby Day since then, I relive the whole experience—the details long forgotten, but all the feelings returning. My daughter (age 11) rides horses, and we watch the Derby together, but she and I are watching two very different events. I have friends for life from that time. Ed Cowart, Emo Horner, Bobby Pearlman, Lee Seabury, and I spent too many nights awake all night in 1968. It was a life-changing time, as Ross understood and felt: “I try to convey some of this to my [children] today, but too much gets lost in translation.” So, I’m conveying it to the folks who I think will understand. I am sad at the passing of someone who understood.

Smaller notes: Lonny Donovan wrote, “I did not know Ross but his thoughts and memories struck home.” Aldie Caram emailed to say, “I can't quite place him. And I'm stunned just the same. Thanks for the excerpt, it helps in some way.” And that’s why we are here.