Tributes to Albert Stewart '42

A Tribute to Al Stewart by Bob Devine

To the Antioch Community:

It is with great personal sadness that I inform the community that Professor of Physics Emeritus Albert Stewart ’42 died at home on Friday, January 12, while recovering from his recent hip surgery. Al was a very special alumnus, an exemplary teacher and intellectual, a respected community member, and a dear colleague to many of us at Antioch.

Al was born in Greensburg Pennsylvania on March 23, 1919. He began his affiliation with Antioch College as a student in 1936, received his B.S. in Physics from the College in 1942 and went on to earn his Ph.D. in Physics from Johns Hopkins University. Al returned to Antioch where he served as Professor of Physics from 1948 to 1976, and as Dean of Faculty from 1966 to 1967.

In 1967, Al took leave from the College to work with the Harvard Project in Physics. The project aimed to maintain Antioch’s high reputation for the production of scholars in the physical sciences with nearly $600,000 in grants to back up that determination. Al was a leader in launching an aggressive recruitment campaign to attract more science students. Other time away from the campus included sabbaticals and five years teaching at the American University of Beirut in the Department of Philosophy.

Al presented the Annual Faculty Lecture on Feb. 21, 1969. His thoughts on science and the liberal arts education are contained in three editions of Antioch Notes: “How Liberal Education” (March 1967); “The Satisfactions of Science” (Oct. 1967); and “Science and the Liberal Arts College” (Feb. 1968).

In 1976, Al was appointed the first director of the University Without Walls (UWW) program in Ohio. The program was a collaborative effort of the Union for Experimenting Colleges and Universities (UECU) and Antioch, Yellow Springs. Although Al was a long term faculty member in physics, his experience extended beyond the laboratory and deeply into liberal education. As chairman of Antioch’s Educational Policy Committee and as Dean of the Faculty, he contributed to the development of new programs in many areas of the College. As an examiner for the North Central Association and as a collaborator on the Carnegie Study of the “Future of the Liberal Arts College” he gained even further understanding and commitment to liberal education.

Al taught a full range of undergraduate physics courses, Philosophy of Science, Classical Empiricist Philosophers, Philosophy of Karl Popper, as well courses in Weather and Climate, Science of Photography, and Cultural Studies – a four-semester course using Middle Eastern and Western source texts.

Al retired from the Antioch College faculty in 1976 but his long-term relationship with the College did not stop there. In addition to his many interests, Al was an adjunct professor from 1981 through 1994 in the School for Adult and Experiential Learning (SAEL) which is now Antioch University McGregor. He participated in many College events, and was awarded status as Professor of Physics Emeritus in 1996.

In 1981, Al served as Cable Advisory Chairman in Yellow Springs, advocating along with me that a community-owned system would better serve the distinctive tastes of Yellow Springs viewers. Al participated in the Yellow Springs Community Experience program, which was started by a group of citizens who wanted to augment the curriculum of Yellow Springs High School by using existing community facilities and resource persons or groups. Al served as a resource for a Yellow Springs student who was studying photography. In recent years, Al played violin in the Wright State orchestra, at Sinclair Community College as well as several local chamber ensembles.

Professor Stewart is survived by his wife of 60 years, Ruth Williams; his brother Brooks of Newtown, PA; his children Margaret Hacker of Portland, OR, Helen Scholtz of Bellingham, WA, Renee (Patty) of Seattle, WA and Mark of Norfork, AR; his grandchildren Ben and Nicholas Scholtz, Jacob, Sarah and Alice Hacker, and Evan and Preston Stewart; and his great grandchildren Ava Hacker and Noah Cunningham.

Bob Devine

President, Antioch College

A Tribute to Al Stewart by Dick Meisler

As read at Al’s memorial service at the Glen Helen Building, January 20, 2001

A year or so ago, Al told me he was getting tired of going to memorial services, and he was particularly impatient with the way in which deceased friends and relatives seemed to improve in mem- ory. In memorial services, as in everything else, Al set a high standard, and I am nervous about how he would receive my remarks. He would want us to remember him with all his failings, and somehow I can imagine Al enjoying a discussion of his faults, smiling at the truth and raising a few weak objections, with that twinkle in his eye, just to keep the discussion interesting. But my problem is that I can’t think of very many ways in which Al could have been better than he was.

Al Stewart was one of the sweetest, funniest, gentlest, kindest, smartest, most dedicated to science, doglovingest people I’ve ever known.

Most people in this room had the wonderful experience of spending time with Al, which meant sharing each other’s lives. He was a great conversationalist who wanted to hear what you had to say and who also wanted to share things with you. He smiled a lot because it was so much fun. Human exchanges and discourse and thinking and feeling together were intensely pleasurable to Al.

Al was a scientist by personality and temperament as well as by profession. He was deeply curious about everything. Some smart people – and they’re often scientists – are arrogant about the way they turn to new subject matters. Al was never like that. He considered new things modestly, with deference to other people who had thought about them, yet still with great intellectual power.

In a quiet way, Al was a charismatic person. He wouldn’t have liked to hear me say this. It would have sounded extravagant to him. But people were drawn to him because he was so respectful and generous in his stance toward them, so smart and attractive, so enjoyable to be with. I think of Al’s weekly readings to a group of older people, first at Mrs. Owen’s house, then at J. D. Dawson’s. The group loved the readings, and I know it wasn’t primarily for the books, because half of them dozed off before Al got to the second page. What they really enjoyed so much was being together and being with Al – the discussions before and after the readings, the tea and cookies, and mainly Al Stewart’s presence.

Being with Al made you a nicer and smarter person, because that’s the way he expected you to be. I wanted to be with Al because he was so interesting and so much fun, and because I liked myself better for the experience of being with him. I wanted to live up to Al’s generous view of me.

Al was a voracious reader, for both pleasure and learning, which were indistinguishable for him. He loved to play tennis, and later in life to watch it on TV. He loved to play music and listen to it. He was a fine photographer, and for years my son Danny had in his room a beautiful picture of the Taj Mahal that Al took and developed and printed. He loved to walk in the Glen with his dog. He delighted in travel and in living abroad. It is hard to overestimate the importance of the years in Beirut to Al and Ruth. Although he worked hard and took his work seriously, Al knew how to have a full, varied life, full of pleasure and stimulation – which is almost a lost art in our world.

Al, who was probably the most intelligent person that any of us ever knew, loved to tell stories about stupid things he had done, especially on camping trips. He took great joy, and so did his listeners, especially family members, in his tales of making the wrong judgment, falling into the stream, taking the wrong turn, going up the mountain instead of around it, or whatever, and the results: being lost, soaked, hungry, confused, blamed.

Al and I talked more about dogs than you would probably expect, and these conversations were pure Al, because Al wasn’t interested in living with a well-trained, obedient, person-centered dog. Al took great delight in the strange behaviors and personality quirks of his dogs. The dogs were from a different neighborhood of nature, of reality, and Al was fascinated by all of reality. He observed and studied each dog, each person, each political event, each book, each piece of music, each work of art, and enjoyed every moment of it. And, of course, the dogs, like the rest of us, adored him.

Al had deep commitments to peace and social justice, and he was courageous. It took courage to be a conscientious objector during World War II. Al loved Arab culture, and had sympathy for Arab political positions in the Middle East. Al was simply not subject to the pressures of being politically correct about anything. He thought things through clearly according to his own lights. There was a core of commitment to justice and humane values in Al, and it was written in steel.

When I was a young faculty member at Antioch in the 1960s, there was a time when Al worked every day in the faculty studies in the basement of the library. He was working on a history of modern physics, and I used to drop by. He would show me the manuscript and we would talk about the problems he was preparing to go with each chapter. His diligence, discipline, and brilliance were dazzling. I admired him so much.

Decades later, when I returned to Antioch for a couple of years in the 1990s, Ruth and Al would frequently invite me to dinner. Those evenings were an oasis of calm and good cheer and wisdom in an environment that wasn’t always calm or cheery or wise.

It meant so much to me and my family that last August, Nina and Ruth and Al drove up to Ann Arbor for my son Josh’s wedding. And among our wedding photos are pictures of Al and Ruth looking beautiful. Those pictures are among our family treasures.

I don’t think I will ever hear about a scientific development in Miriam’s lab or in her field of biology or see an article in a scientific journal or read something in Science Times, without thinking about what Al would say or how much fun it would be to share it with him. Just this week, when almost the only thing I could think about was that Al was gone, there was news of a development in physics, the stopping of light in the laboratory. Despite myself, I kept thinking, “I wonder what Al would say?” And I could imagine him saying, “Well, I haven’t done the calculations, but it sounds pretty good.” And then the next time I’d see him, he’d have done the calculations.

I don’t think I’ll ever have a problem at work or a dilemma in my family without wanting to talk with Al, knowing how well he could put things in perspective and how valuable his advice would be.

I don’t think I’ll ever travel without wondering about Al’s trip to that place or wishing that I could share my observations with him or trying to imagine what Al had written in his travel diary on a similar trip.

When a dog or a human being does something smart or ridiculous, for as long as I live, I’ll want to talk with Al about it.

Al has left me a real gift, as he has for many of you. Because I know that when these things happen, I will be able to imagine those conversations with Al, even though I can’t have them any more. I can remember his kindness and tolerance, his intelligence, his knack for putting things in perspective. And that will help. Not as much as sitting in his living room or walking with him and the dog or sitting at the dinner table with a glass of wine, but it will help, and that’s a lot.

And now, I can imagine Al looking at me and saying, one way or another, I think that’s enough, Dick, probably more than enough.