In Memoriam: J. Morgan Sweeney, Ph.D
Our good friend, Dr. J. Morgan Sweeney, passed away while teaching in London on Wednesday, August 8, 2007. Morgan -- an Irishman by clan, an Englishman by education, and a Gotham resident during his youth (his father was employed at the United Nations) -- returned to the United States after completing his Ph.D at Oxford, and took a job with the History Department of Michigan State in 1976. Morgan wrote and lectured on modern European history, especially British, was active teaching in MSU's Study Abroad program in London, and was especially valued and loved by former students. Click for the obituary.
Not having Morgan as an instructor during my time at MSU, I was introduced to him by our mutual friend, Drew Beiter, a former student. With Drew sequestered off working in California or Wyoming or the greater Buffalo area, and me living here in Williamston or Grand Ledge, I was able to more fully develop my own relationship with Morgan. More recently, Morgan was our infrequent dinner companion, as there was always a reason to eat, but always at his house in Haslett or at Beggar's Banquet or Coral Gables or some Thai or Indian restaurant in East Lansing; Morgan claimed he'd never been west of Frandor, and resisted our attempts at inviting him to our house. Dinner at Morgan's house was a treat, as he was a brilliant conversationalist, a good cook, and we were always well girded with wine and coffee and desserts. As Tiffani fondly points out, Morgan taught us the proper way to make an Irish Coffee, and a treat it certainly was. But events at his house could be an orgy of disorganization as well, with cooking materials and dishes and pans all competing with books and mail and general chaos on the cooking and preparation surfaces.
Morgan was unfailingly charitable and supportive, what I have decided to call a microphilanthropist. He initiated my first overseas opportunity by inviting Stephanie and me to stay with him in London while he was there teaching in the summer months of 1998, and he overcame my general resistant nature. In 2001, when Tiffani and I were honeymooning prior to our marriage, he again allowed us the ease and comfort and familiarity of accommodations at his London apartment, Scala House, which was well-appointed, roomy enough, and well-located. Further, Morgan's enthusiastic supportive nature was shown in how many godchildren with whom he was blessed, a testament to how former students regarded him. Specific to me, he was a frequent inquisitor of my vocation and avocation, and he even showed up at an event or two over the last dozen years, despite his 'wonky' knees and his difficulty handling bleachers.
Morgan's last email to me, dated August 1, was alarmingly dire, wherein he described being sick with food poisoning in London, bedridden 'two or three weeks - not been well here' and he used the word grovel when asking that we remain friends and maintain better contact. I dashed off a quick reply hoping to catch him before he departed London for New York, telling him that all was well in mid-Michigan and with our relationship, no worries. I need to believe that my pithy little email was read by him before he died, instead of the opposite notion, where he is fraught with uncertainty over how we failed to maintain contact, and, in turn, what I might think of him (although I'm not so egotistical to think that thoughts of our relationship surpassed his ill health as his primary concern). In a personal sense, all who knew Morgan knew this event would occur far sooner than necessary, considering Morgan's disdain for practical medical advice, fitness, or dietary discipline. But it's also a surprising, delightful bonus that he had made it this far, considering his diabetes and weight and general depression. Most sad, one of my regular routines while reading the local paper was to scan the obituaries, fearing that news of Morgan would appear there before I heard of it myself, knowing that none of his colleagues would know to contact me.
A memorial service will be held at St. John's Student Parish at 10:00 on October 12, with a reception at the University Club following at 11:30. Bless you, Morgan, we miss you, and will continue to miss you.
Tiffani, Morgan, and Chris in a London restaurant, July 2001.
Not having Morgan as an instructor during my time at MSU, I was introduced to him by our mutual friend, Drew Beiter, a former student. With Drew sequestered off working in California or Wyoming or the greater Buffalo area, and me living here in Williamston or Grand Ledge, I was able to more fully develop my own relationship with Morgan. More recently, Morgan was our infrequent dinner companion, as there was always a reason to eat, but always at his house in Haslett or at Beggar's Banquet or Coral Gables or some Thai or Indian restaurant in East Lansing; Morgan claimed he'd never been west of Frandor, and resisted our attempts at inviting him to our house. Dinner at Morgan's house was a treat, as he was a brilliant conversationalist, a good cook, and we were always well girded with wine and coffee and desserts. As Tiffani fondly points out, Morgan taught us the proper way to make an Irish Coffee, and a treat it certainly was. But events at his house could be an orgy of disorganization as well, with cooking materials and dishes and pans all competing with books and mail and general chaos on the cooking and preparation surfaces.
Morgan was unfailingly charitable and supportive, what I have decided to call a microphilanthropist. He initiated my first overseas opportunity by inviting Stephanie and me to stay with him in London while he was there teaching in the summer months of 1998, and he overcame my general resistant nature. In 2001, when Tiffani and I were honeymooning prior to our marriage, he again allowed us the ease and comfort and familiarity of accommodations at his London apartment, Scala House, which was well-appointed, roomy enough, and well-located. Further, Morgan's enthusiastic supportive nature was shown in how many godchildren with whom he was blessed, a testament to how former students regarded him. Specific to me, he was a frequent inquisitor of my vocation and avocation, and he even showed up at an event or two over the last dozen years, despite his 'wonky' knees and his difficulty handling bleachers.
Morgan's last email to me, dated August 1, was alarmingly dire, wherein he described being sick with food poisoning in London, bedridden 'two or three weeks - not been well here' and he used the word grovel when asking that we remain friends and maintain better contact. I dashed off a quick reply hoping to catch him before he departed London for New York, telling him that all was well in mid-Michigan and with our relationship, no worries. I need to believe that my pithy little email was read by him before he died, instead of the opposite notion, where he is fraught with uncertainty over how we failed to maintain contact, and, in turn, what I might think of him (although I'm not so egotistical to think that thoughts of our relationship surpassed his ill health as his primary concern). In a personal sense, all who knew Morgan knew this event would occur far sooner than necessary, considering Morgan's disdain for practical medical advice, fitness, or dietary discipline. But it's also a surprising, delightful bonus that he had made it this far, considering his diabetes and weight and general depression. Most sad, one of my regular routines while reading the local paper was to scan the obituaries, fearing that news of Morgan would appear there before I heard of it myself, knowing that none of his colleagues would know to contact me.
A memorial service will be held at St. John's Student Parish at 10:00 on October 12, with a reception at the University Club following at 11:30. Bless you, Morgan, we miss you, and will continue to miss you.
Tiffani, Morgan, and Chris in a London restaurant, July 2001.
Comments
As it is, he just stuck to his rooms, except to teach classes or to have a nice long lunch with me at a favorite pub. He was one the most generous and sweetest men I have ever met and I am glad I stumbled upon your blog while looking for a picture of him. The students from that summer in London celebrate a yearly "Sweeneyfest" in East Lansing, complete with T-shirts printed for the occasion. They wanted a new picture for this year's shirt. The students from the year before, when I was TA also, call themselves "Sweeney's Army" and there are a couple of Facebook sites dedicated to him and to some of his more memorable sayings.
Thanks again
Scott Joyner