|
Lynn McMurrey:
Jeanne was one of those people you say you will never forget, and
really mean it. I was her "housemate" for four years and have so many
images and memories of her that it is impossible to pick just one. She
had infinite patience and compassion, yet would not suffer stupidity,
lack of respect, or misogyny for a second. Suffice it to say that Jeanne
usually had the last word, and it was always a good
one, either a zinger, that laid a fool out on the floor, or the
only word that could bring peace to people who were at each other’s
throats. Ms Cunningham was a great example of a "feminist," strong,
capable, and completely female. I do and will always miss her!
Dr. Davitt:
Jeanne and I were close friends, and that friendship continued after her
retirement. She in many ways was like a mother on campus. It was also
a relationship that allowed us to disagree, because in many ways we came
from opposite ends of the philosophical spectrum. I did my best to get
her to play the homemaker, and when she gave me her political views, I
kept encouraging her to return to the kitchen and bake me a pie.
Needless to say, she told me that this wasn't her role. However, just
to prove that she could do it, she arrived one day with a cherry pie to
celebrate Washington's birthday and to prove to me that she had the
homemaker skills in addition to being a great teacher who showed care
and compassion for her students.
Susan I. Henry:
Whenever any of my students expresses worry about moving too
slowly through the program at GCC due to outside obligations, I tell him
or her about Jeanne Cunningham. Jeanne spent eleven years here before
attending USC and becoming such a powerful force in her field, and she
valued those years more than any other part of her formal education.
My most enduring memory of her is from just a few
years ago. She was sitting at the helm of her party boat in Westlake
wearing sunglasses and white canvas visor, one hand steering and the
other pouring cocktails for her guests.
Jessica Gillooly:
Jeanne was the first woman at GCC to welcome me as a part-time
instructor. I needed a mentor and she was ready to mentor.
She had her way and ways with me. I couldn’t say,
“No” to Jeanne—and didn’t want to until one afternoon after a lengthy
Social Science Division meeting. All but three had left. She confronted
Drake Hawkins about his handling of the meeting and turned to me (still
adjunct, hoping for a full-time position) and said, “Jessica, do you
agree or not?” Oh, Jeanne had her ways. Stand up to Drake Hawkins,
Division Chair, right on the spot!
What could I do, what would I do? Both Jeanne and
Drake were staring at me. She was right! I agreed with her. The “ole
boy” slap on the back division meetings had to stop. Jeanne had been
trying to help the division be more mutually respectful and enlightened
in the 80s. I knew that I needed to speak up, but now? After years of
part-time night classes? Oh please. Not now!
“Ye Gads, Jeanne, a little advanced notice would
have been nice.” Or something like that went through my mind.
Disappoint Jeanne? I couldn’t bear that thought. I
might become jobless, but it was chance that had to be taken.
I found the words to tell Drake that I agreed with
Jeanne. He gave me one of those Drake looks honed during years in the
military. But of course, Jeanne had those same well-honed expressions.
Jeanne later said that she was okay with what I
said. Drake later said he thought I could have been more tactful.
Jeanne put me on the spot many more times through
the years. She asked me to find my voice and err on the side of mutual
respect for all, even when it meant upsetting colleagues and students.
She insisted that I find ways to stand firm on convictions for the
overall good of GCC, and as she saw it, GCC led to the larger world.
Thank you for all your love and support. You are
missed, but will be fondly remembered forever.
Footnote: Jeanne informed me not too long before
she died that she remembered exactly what I said back on that sunny
afternoon day to Drake. She also informed me that she thought I could
have been firmer in my choice of words. She had the conviction to say
what she thought even as she passed to her next great works.
Mike Eberts:
Jeanne Cunningham had one quality that allowed her to communicate
effectively with men—an absolute lack of subtlety.
With Jeanne, you were never left with any annoying,
lingering questions like, “I wonder what Jeanne was really trying to
say?” or “What was Jeanne hinting at?”
Jeanne didn’t hint. Jeanne was about as subtle as
getting hit in the head with a falling piano.
And that style—forged at a time when women had to
bellow if they were to be heard at all—made her a role model not just
for feminists but for anyone (even men) on this campus who wanted to be
a champion of anything. The Jeanne
Cunningham method was easy to emulate: find an
issue you believe in with all your heart. Back it conspicuously. Loudly.
Forever.
Of course, Jeanne was and always will be the
original take-no-prisoners, make-no-apologies activist professor on this
campus. Dr. Bill James, a statistician who has made a career trying to
define excellence in baseball players (of all things), has said that
“true greatness” occurs when 1) by objective measure and subjective
opinion, you are among the top people in your field, and 2) your
excellence manifests itself in such a way that there really isn’t anyone
else quite like you.
Jeanne fits this definition with room to spare. So,
within the ranks of those who have taught at Glendale College over the
last 77 years, let the record show that Jeanne Cunningham achieved true
greatness. But I guess we really didn’t need a statistician to tell us
that.
Steve Taylor:
It goes without saying that Jeanne was a “formidable” advocate
for women’s rights in both senses of the word—“inspiring awe, admiration
or wonder” and also “arousing fear, dread, or alarm,” the latter often
awakened in the hearts of chauvinists she confronted. More than once,
especially when we were in England together, she forcefully liberated me
from macho attitudes I inadvertently expressed, and she did much the
same for British males when she felt it necessary. We all know how much
she hated the word “lady,” with its implications of polite subservience.
Yet those of us who knew her also knew how she could laugh at her own
attitudes as well. So the moment with Jeanne I’ll remember best was when
she came back from a weekend stay with the family of Graham Winton, a
senior lecturer in history at South Warwickshire College in
Stratford-upon-Avon. Jeanne told me that when she arrived, Graham’s
young son Edwin came out and politely offered to carry her bags. In that
instant, Jeanne apparently had a lapse. She leaned down to greet him and
asked, “Oh, are you learning to become a gentleman?” Before he could
answer, a voice sounded above her with a tonal emphasis very familiar to
Jeanne. “No,” said his mother Ellie, “he’s learning to become
helpful.” A small moment, but
Jeanne believed our attitudes were shaped and reinforced by a long
series of small moments. She laughed hard as she told me about it, and
she repeated it to her students for years to show how deeply embedded
traditional reactions are. Mea culpa—that was Jeanne.
Audrey Harris:
I had a class with Jeanne and made reference to us as “girls.”
She very sternly let me know that we are “women.”
Carolyn Payne:
I used to love to see Jeanne wear the clothes her son made for
her. He was quite an accomplished clothing designer. She seemed to love
purple. I remember her teasing JoRay McCuen because she thought that
JoRay catered to men too much. She was such a feminist. Her instincts
were always kind, and she spent endless hours with women who were having
difficulty combining their jobs with their studies. I regret not having
spent more time with her. She certainly left her mark on the college.
Diane Irwin:
Jeanne made a significant impact on the lives of students and faculty.
I would say she was initially a radical feminist, but as attitudes and
beliefs at GCC and society in general changed, she became an egalitarian
feminist.
As a professor, Jeanne was not always popular,
because she encouraged her students to excel. Creative activities in
every course were developed to influence or "push" students in the
learning process to get actively involved with hands-on and minds-on
experiences requiring both critical thinking skills and self-evaluation
skills. At the end of each course, most students had become better
prepared to deal with life's numerous challenges.
To say Jeanne was not bashful in expressing her
opinions, beliefs and values, is really an understatement. During my
first year here at GCC, I was told by a division chair to “stay away
from Jeanne because she is a rogue and is definitely trouble." Over the
years, I came to value Jeanne's opinions and often agreed with them.
She was always open to discussion and preferred to talk about things and
not brush them under the rug. I can hear her now, “What do you mean
'under the rug?' That implies a traditional female task—cleaning. How
about under the desk?"
Some of Jeanne's many accomplishments over the
years come to mind: Study Abroad in England, President of the Academic
Senate, development and acceptance of the Women's Center in the Library,
and the Homemaker's Scholarship. That she loved GCC is not a question.
Her personalized license plate read "ThanxGCC." And
I say thank you Jeanne.
Diane Smith:
I took a course with Jeanne over 12 years ago, many years before working
at GCC. While I only knew her as an excellent instructor whom I greatly
admired, the lessons I learned in her class I will carry with me for the
rest of my life. I do recall that she said during one class that when
she passed away, she didn't want anyone to be sad—rather, that it should
be a celebration.
As an instructor, Jeanne had a profound, positive
effect on my life. I can only imagine the joy and blessings she brought
to those close to her.
Michael Leach:
I am a part time instructor at GCC. I have had the honor of
taking over Jeanne's extraordinary class, the Psychology of Loss.
When I was being considered for the position,
Jeanne invited me to her home for lunch and a lovely afternoon of
grueling questions—to see if I was up to par with her expectations. It
was certainly memorable and a testament to her dedication to education
and the experience of the students of GCC.
The first few times I taught the class, there were
numerous students who loudly verbalized their disappointment that Jeanne
was not teaching the course. They had heard of her reputation or had
taken classes from her in the past.
With reverence, I teach this class—a unique
opportunity to wrestle with the universal experience of loss, and my
life has been enriched by it. With thankfulness in my soul, I pay
tribute to Jeanne Cunningham.
Celeste Brenner:
Jeanne was a great friend and supporter of the International
Students of Glendale Community College. She came to the dinner dances
held at Brookside Country Club each spring semester and was very
generous in giving to the International Student scholarship fund. We
have missed her of late but will always remember her for her kindness
and support of our international F-1 visa students.
Angelo and Petra
Montante: When my son Mikey passed away on October 12th, 1980,
Jeanne was among the first to share her sentiments of grief with me over
his passing on. She wrote me a poem about the loss of my first child.
My wife and I continue to treasure the kindness and generosity of her
thoughtfulness. She was a good human being, and we will all miss her.
Ken Trupp: Fall
Colors and the Indomitable Jeanne
When Jeanne phoned me in September 2002 and said she wanted to
experience the fall colors in New England once more before she died, I
thought it was a crazy idea. At that point, she was already using an
apparatus that provided oxygen, and she could only walk a few feet
without discomfort. However. those of you who knew Jeanne well know
that there was no talking her out of making the trip. When I suggested
various tours and cruises geared to viewing the fall colors, she said,
"Absolutely not. I want it to be just the two of us in a rental car
going where we want, when we want." And, of course, that's exactly what
happened.
So I arranged for the car and our accommodations, and Jeanne arranged
for an oxygen machine—a heavy one I might add—to be delivered to the
Parker House in Boston where we met to begin our journey.
And journey we did. We traveled through Massachusetts, New Hampshire,
Maine and Vermont, and we were there for the peak of fall color. We had
long days on the road, and each evening Jeanne would turn off the oxygen
so we could enjoy cigarettes with our drinks. That's just one of the
memories from our trip that I'll cherish forever. Another indelible
memory is Jeanne's childlike expressions of delight as she spotted red,
yellow, and purple leaves around almost every turn in the road. She'd
turn to me with a broad smile on her face and say, "Oh my, did you see
those? Aren't they wonderful."
Jeanne wanted to see the fall colors one more time, and see them she
did.
Mona Field:
I loved Jeanne and learned so much from her. It's impossible to list
the many ways she helped me, mentored me, and gave of herself to me—and
of course, to so many others.
Jeanne was a specialist in "Loss, Death and Grief"
and developed a class as well as writing about this theme. She not
only taught about facing life's painful moments, she modeled those
behaviors. Even in her last months, when we spoke on the phone
regularly, she exemplified grace and dignity as she gradually lost her
physical strength, experienced daily pain and prepared to leave her
loved ones. We always ended our calls by saying, "I love you," and I
received the precious gift of exchanging those words with her on the day
she died.
There is no greater tribute to Jeanne than to try
to live with generous spirits, compassion and full humanity. My
tradition (secular Judaism) says that as long as someone is remembered,
that person is immortal. So, Jeanne lives on through our loving
thoughts and actions. She lives on in the lives of the thousands of
students whom she taught. We were so lucky to have her with us. RIP,
my very dear friend. Ì
Back to top |
|
|