The first time John A. Fry visited Franklin & Marshall College, it was a bitterly cold January day.

And he got lost.

An executive vice president at the University of Pennsylvania, Fry had learned he was among three finalists for F&M's top job. With his wife, Cara, and three children in the car, he tried fruitlessly to find the entrance to campus.

Then Fry pulled into the parking lot at the Alumni Sports & Fitness Center along Harrisburg Avenue. To the rear, he glimpsed the Norfolk Southern rail yard and the aging buildings of the Armstrong World Industries flooring plant.

"That backdrop was one of the ugliest I've ever seen," Fry recalled in an interview last week in his Old Main office.

Months later, on his first "official" trip to the college, he drove through the streets of Lancaster. "What a beautiful city," he remembered thinking, and "What a great opportunity this is for F&M."

Fry was well aware of both the challenges and potential that awaited him when he took over as F&M's president in the summer of 2002. Eight years later, he bids goodbye to the institution he led through unprecedented growth and change — generating some public opposition along the way — to assume the reins as president of Drexel University in Philadelphia.

His last day at F&M is June 30. After taking time off to relax with Cara and daughters Mia, 19, and Phoebe, 10, and son Nathaniel, 15, Fry will start Aug. 1 at Drexel.

Wearing a tan suit, blue-striped shirt and red tie, the 50-year-old Fry — whose dark hair has grayed a bit the past eight years — regularly refers to "we" when speaking of F&M, showing his ties to the college are still very strong.

The desk in his wood-paneled, high-ceilinged office — looking out the front of Old Main toward College Avenue — is packed with family photos. A small statute of Ben Franklin rests on one corner.

Behind the conference table sits an antique grandfather clock; portraits of John Williamson Nevin, president of the college from 1866-76, and his wife, Martha, adorn the walls. Fry had the portraits hung when he moved in, he said.

Thankful for the support of his wife, Fry said the painting of Mrs. Nevin is a reminder that being president "is a two-person job."

What he'll miss most in leaving F&M — and Lancaster — is the people, he said.

"I've made so many dear friends who will be friends for life," Fry said. "This is the place my kids have grown up."

He also won't be around to see the completion of some initiatives started under his watch, including the Northwest Gateway Project and construction of a new college house.

In 2005, F&M instituted a college house system modeled after some Ivy League and English universities. The goals were to enhance faculty-student relationships and to improve the on-campus intellectual and social lives of students.

Fry said he's confident the projects under way are in capable hands. F&M's interim president will be John Burness, a 1967 alumnus of the school and former Duke University executive.

Fry's most ambitious undertaking, the Northwest Gateway Project involves converting dozens of acres on the former Armstrong property into multipurpose playing fields, a baseball field, a football stadium and mixed-use buildings. The Norfolk Southern rail yard is being relocated to a former municipal dump site in Manheim Township, and Liberty Street will be connected to College Avenue. F&M is partnering with Lancaster General Health to turn the 77 acres into an educational-medical corridor.

He's also excited about projects the college will begin after he's gone, including transformation of the Williamson-Sponaugle Field parking lot into a park, and construction of a new entrance to campus.

Changing a culture
Asked what he's most proud of, Fry cited two intangibles.

First, he said, F&M has "a strong and appropriate sense of confidence" in what it is and what it can do, which didn't exist before.

Fry labeled it "a quiet confidence."

Second, "college and community being inextricably intertwined is now a value of the institution," he said.

The merger of F&M and Lancaster city "is a deep and authentic thing" that should continue for generations, Fry said.

The 2,200-student liberal arts college used to be "the classic college on a hill" that didn't come down off its pedestal unless it had to, he said.

Early on, Fry worked to re-establish and strengthen F&M's connection to Lancaster, helping launch the James Street Improvement District and making city revitalization a priority.

Lancaster Mayor Rick Gray said, "I have nothing but praise for him. ... He was a great partner to work with."

Gray said Fry "took a college that was apart from the city and made it a part of the city."

He also credited Fry for the contributions he made beyond F&M, on the board of the Lancaster County Convention Center Authority and the vestry of St. James Episcopal Church, for example.

Fry understood "that a great institution has to be in a great city," Gray said.

As a nonprofit, F&M makes unspecified payments to the city in lieu of taxes.

Fry said he's most proud of establishing the college house system for students; adding 40 new faculty members; and undertaking the Northwest Gateway Project, which progressed even quicker than he expected.

Fry said the student-to-faculty ratio is now 10-1, with more areas of intellectual inquiry being covered than before. "Our faculty is much better, deeper and stronger," he said.

Though his nonteaching background isn't traditional for a college president, Fry said he believes he "really made a difference" on the academic side.

And because of that, "I'm equipped to work with the great faculty at Drexel," he said.

Fry also was a strong supporter of F&M sports teams during his tenure. "Athletics are a really integral part of the liberal arts experience," he said.

One of his prized possessions is a gold watch presented to him by the 2009 women's lacrosse team, which won the Division III national championship.

Fry said the "greatest buzz" he ever got at F&M was handing out diplomas to the team's 10 seniors, still dressed in their uniforms, after the title game in Salem, Va.

'More mature leader'
He said one component of the job that surprised him was how "intensely pastoral" it can be.

Many times as college president he reached out to people who were sick or dying, or tried to console family members in the midst of tragedy, he said.

In May 2007, four F&M students were critically injured in a Route 222 crash less than a week before graduation. Fry said he vividly remembers rushing to the emergency room and learning that two of the young men were in very bad shape.

But all four eventually recovered. "It was a miracle," he said.

What he grew to realize was that when he comforted someone, that person "felt the full force of the institution" responding, Fry said.

"I didn't know my presence and support would mean so much," he said.

While the college has changed a lot the past eight years, so too has Fry.

"I became a much more mature leader," he said. Even though he had executive experience at Penn, "nothing compares to being president" of a college, Fry said.

"I feel I've worked hard at it and become better," he said.

He also said he's now proficient as a fundraiser — a responsibility not in his job description at Penn.

Joel Eigen, Charles A. Dana Professor of Sociology at F&M, said in an e-mail that Fry "has the rare gift of the most talented of administrators — he recognizes talent when he sees it, even [if] the person may not be aware of it."

Eigen wrote that Fry's greatest legacy is probably the college house system.

"Successive presidents and their administrations have lamented the quality of student life outside the classroom," he said. "John engaged faculty in a discussion of the creation of a college house system; a group of faculty and administrators met for almost a year to examine the possibilities, and a year later, four college houses came into being.

"... He perceived a gaping need, enlisted faculty whom he believed would take the initiative ... and simply went ahead. He tends to move forward constantly — sometimes with lightning speed, sometimes more deliberately — but he is not one for stasis nor is he likely to be halted by someone cautioning that 'we don't do things that way here.' "

Lightning rod for critics
During his eight-year tenure, Fry has encountered vocal opposition.

Some residents were upset when F&M wanted to install security cameras in the neighborhoods around the college, citing privacy concerns.

Fry said F&M responded to that and made sure the cameras weren't invasive. He said complaints from those who continue to object to them are "frivolous."

"If I know we're doing the right thing" such criticism doesn't bother him, Fry said.

Randolph Carney, a downtown Lancaster resident who regularly attends city council meetings, said he has no doubt Fry cares about Lancaster "and that he has definitely done some good things."

"I'm not criticizing him for trying to make Lancaster a better place," he said.

But Carney said he resents the generally "heavy-handed way [Fry] dealt with the neighbors."

Several years ago, when the college installed new streetlights on Race Avenue, the move was "basically rammed down neighbors' throats," he said.

"F&M has been pushing people around to get what it wants," Carney said.

The college's plans to relocate the Norfolk Southern rail yard to the site of the former Lancaster Brickyard dump also have engendered opposition from a group called Community Activist Against Rail Road Transgressions. They're mostly residents of the School Lane Hills and Barrcrest neighborhoods, which are near the new site of the rail yard.

Fry said the college is "taking precautions" to minimize any noise or vibration impact in those areas.

"We always take concerns seriously," he said. "But I'm not going to fold my tent because of a few critics."

Harrisburg attorney William Cluck, who represents CAARRT, said the citizens group hasn't decided whether to challenge the state Department of Environmental Protection's approval of the dump cleanup.

And he said CAARRT is still seeking evidence that a survey was done to determine if bog turtles — an endangered species — live on the site.

Beyond the environmental objections, Cluck said the millions of taxpayer dollars allocated for the project "are not justifiable" when tax revenue is such short supply.

Early this month, Fry also was named as a defendant in a lawsuit — along with the college itself, the Lancaster police department and others — filed by online investigative reporter Ron Harper Jr.

Harper alleges his constitutional rights were violated two years ago during an incident near Fry's home in School Lane Hills.

Fry declined to comment on the case.

The next challenge
In moving on, Fry said he chose a college that wasn't a liberal arts school because his F&M experience was so memorable.

"I did want to be in an urban community where a big university can make a big difference," and Drexel is a perfect fit, he said.

Fry described Drexel, located in West Philadelphia, as a "comprehensive research university."

When he was at Penn, the school was a favorite of his, Fry said.

He and his family are happy to be staying in Pennsylvania and glad to be returning to the Philadelphia area, he said. "It's kind of my hometown."

The Frys will be living in Bryn Mawr.

The first six months or so at Drexel he'll spend "getting to know the place," Fry said. In previous interviews, he has discussed the possibility of Drexel opening a medical school campus at the Armstrong site, but he wouldn't elaborate further on that.

If he were dispensing advice to the next F&M president, Fry said he'd tell him to think in three time dimensions: what the college currently needs, what it will require in five to 10 years, and what it should look like 50 years from now.

In his time at F&M, "we really did have that 50-year conversation here," he said.

During the interview, a miniature likeness of Old Main sat a few feet away in the middle of the oval-shaped conference table.

"I'm really proud of this," said Fry, as he pointed to it. The cast-bronze replica was a gift to him from the F&M board of trustees, and he plans to keep it in a prominent place at his new home.

"It's a nice memento," he said. "It reminds me of eight incredible years."