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His rock mechanics professor was a Polish aristocrat named Z.T. Bieniawski.

Bieniawski was a big personality and maybe a tad out of place in State College, Pa.

“He liked five-star hotels and flying first class,
and in a lot of ways we didn’t have that much in common,” said Chris.

“Whatever the highest level of Toastmaster was, he was it.”

There was the story, which Chris loved, of the time Bieniawski staged a formal dinner at the restaurant of the Nittany Lion Inn.

Bieniawski (summoning the waitress): Madam, can you recommend your finest bottle of red wine?

Waitress (after studying Bieniawski a beat): Sir, if you want my opinion, you shouldn’t be drinking at all.

But he was a fabulous professor
— the sort of teacher who got you thinking even when he didn’t mean to.

One day he lectured his students on the formulas used to design the pillars that supported the roofs of coal mines
— which of course sounds like a topic to light a fire under no one.

But it lit a fire under Chris.

He’d experienced roof collapse.

He knew that poorly designed pillars killed people.

Now he learned that the formulas used to create them were all over the map.

“A kid in class raised his hand,” said Chris.

“He asked, ‘which of these formulas is the right one?’”

As Bieniawski had created one of the formulas, the professor’s answer seemed almost modest.

“You need to use your engineering judgment,” he replied.

But that can’t be right, thought Chris.

Each formula implied a different pillar design than the others.

At most only one could be right.

When wrong, coal miners died.

Yet no one had figured out which formula was best or really even saw the problem.

“I said, this is the place for me!” said Chris.