The political philosopher, Marshall Berman, died of a sudden heart attack last week. He and my dad worked in Political Science department at City College of New York together, beginning back in the late 1960’s. My dad set him up on a date with my mom’s cousin once. Didn’t got well. Marshall suffered through some very intense personal tragedies with remarkable resilience. His books were legendary, but his relationship with my family was more personal than intellectual.
My parents went to his funeral yesterday. My mom called me this morning with the gossip.
Dad retired about ten years ago. He left academia without regret or nostalgia. He runs a food pantry at a local church now and, other than an occasional article, he’s more involved with food pick-ups and grants than thinking about the old grudges and interdepartmental politics.
But it all came back yesterday as the greying professors rehashed old grievances. All in their late 70s and 80s (professors live a long time), dad mediated tensions between his former colleagues. When academia changed from a teaching to a research profession, a few of the older dudes were kicked to the curb. The student population also changed drastically in a short period of time. CCNY was the Harvard of public schools and, over night, they became an open admission school.
All of that is ancient history, but in a way, it’s still a current discussion. We’re still talking about the direction of academia and the student population.
Intellectual debates aside, Marshall was a formidable intellect who talked about Durkheim and Marx and the changes on 42nd street and rap music in the same breath. He was both generous to his students and irritating to colleagues all at the same time. He could make dense political theory meaningful and useful to modern times. His death is a huge loss.
Apt. 11d 