Botany professor Batson taught life lessons at USC for 30 years

Wade Batson was one of those college professors who had such a strong influence on individual students that he ended up having a major impact on the entire state of South Carolina.

Anyone who works in any plant biology job in the state either was inspired by Batson, toils beside someone he taught at the University of South Carolina from 1952-82, or has picked up important tips from one of the 12 books he wrote.

Batson’s death on Feb. 14 at age 102 in Greenville received scant attention, perhaps because it’s been more than 30 years since he taught at USC. His former students feel his contribution deserves to be celebrated, and what better time than as the spring flowers light up the Carolinas.

“The first day of every Flora course, he used to say ‘You should leave more than a tombstone when you leave this world,’” said Randy Westbrooks, a Batson student in the 1970s who is now an invasive species prevention specialist working out of Chadbourn, N.C. “We were just getting started and had no clue where we were going in life. But Dr. B. made us all feel like we could make a difference in this world.”

When former students talk about Batson, the conversation centers on feelings and passion as much as on flowers and leaves.

“When you went into his class for the first time, one of the first things you did was learn everybody else’s name,” said Mark Dutton, natural resources manager at Fort Jackson. “You were going to learn the first and last names of plants, and getting to know your fellow classmates was just as important.”

Most years, Batson led a class hike up Table Rock Mountain, usually carrying his pack and one for someone else having trouble handling the trek. “He made you feel that the most important part of his day was the time he spent with you,” Dutton said.

Bob Perry, director of environmental programs at the S.C. Department of Natural Resources, owes his career to Batson. Perry was a biology major at USC who, when he failed to get into medical school, began to work a four-days-a-week job in industrial construction. Batson drew him back to biology, welcoming him into his office every Friday morning.

“Dr. B received a daily batch of leaves, twigs and flowers to be identified brought by or mailed in by citizens,” Perry recalled. “He also had his own difficult-to-identify specimens to challenge his students. The mornings were animated sessions of botany, and he reveled in stumping his best students only to point out to them the plant anatomy and nomenclature he wanted us to learn.”

But the true highlights were the Friday afternoon field trips to Sesquicentennial State Park, Peachtree Rock or what became Congaree National Park. Batson recruited Perry to drive the bus. And then one day in July 1976, Batson gave Perry a father-son sort of talk about finding his true career and loving it. He handed Perry a Graduate Record Examination application, insisted he take the test the next Saturday and lined up a spot for Perry in the graduate program at Clemson before the test results were back.

“Even after almost 37 years, I look forward to each and every day and the excitement and challenge (my career) is sure to bring,” Perry said. “I constantly use the skills he taught me. I owe it all to Dr. Wade T. Batson who saw something in me that made all the difference.”

Bert Pittman, a botanist with DNR who took classes under Batson in the 1970s, recalled Batson joining him years later in an arduous trek in northern Greenville County in search of the rare mountain purple pitcher plant. It was the kind of off-trail mountain excursion that wipes out even athletic, young people. Batson, then in his 80s, scampered up the mountain like a kid.

“Dr. Batson was one of those people that just wanted to know as much about the world as he could – whether it be classical mechanical clock repair, building furniture, designing his own home in Cayce, astronomy, and, of course, plants,” Pittman said. “As a graduate student he took me to USC’s Cooper Library to show me a book. Expecting something devoted to plants, I was quite surprised when he pulled off a shelf a copy of Isaac Newton’s ‘Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica.’ He said that he did not expect me to wade through or understand this monumental treatment of the laws of motion – written in Latin no less. He just wanted me to hold it in my hands.”

Batson had a special emotional connection with Westbrooks, who met his wife, Becky Hunter Marks, in one of the professor’s summer Flora classes in 1978. She was a graduate student who went on to a 40-year career teaching science. Batson was the best man at their wedding.

Westbrooks came to USC from Gaffney more interested in music, having played guitar in beach music bands. Batson turned him into a scientist and a science teacher.

“That is what he did,” Westbrooks said, “helped us see over the top of the mountain to what could be on the other side if we just believed in ourselves and worked to achieve it.”

This story was originally published April 1, 2015 at 12:30 PM with the headline "Botany professor Batson taught life lessons at USC for 30 years."