Excerpts from

John Fraser Ramsey, 1907-1983

(presented in 1998 to the Alabama Association of Historians)

In the 20th Century history of the University of Alabama, one name stands out as the most successful and beloved of all academics. A person whose career is remembered annually at an award banquet, at which former students testify with great emotion to the difference this person made in their lives and yet another undergraduate gets the largest cash prize the University awards, $4,000 (now $6,000) as well as round trip airfare and assistance with the cost of international travel, primarily European (valued at approximately $3,000). Are their Presidents and Kings whose deeds are so remembered annually? That person was one of our founders, the first president of the Alabama Association of Historians (AAH).

It is not a name probably many of our younger members know. It has been fifteen years since he died and probably twenty since he made his last appearance at an AAH meeting. It is a name those who knew him will not likely forget. He was someone whose life was diverse, whose interests were extraordinarily varied and whose personality charmed and wove life-long friendships. He was the consummate host frequently entertaining students to enjoyable evenings at his home where they were introduced to gourmet cooking and his famous martinis. These gatherings often led to memorable evenings of stimulating conversation. John was readily able to quote Shakespeare, one minute, and limericks, the next. He was as at home riding to a game with the football team, dining with a fraternity, as he was directing a dissertation on 18th Century French history or lecturing on the profundities of Montesquieu.

What kind of background produced such a range of interests? We know that a brutal environment and tyrannical father shaped the home life of Stalin, Hitler, Mao and even Sadam Hussein, among other 20th Century monsters. John Ramsey’s childhood bore no resemblance. He was born during a blizzard in 1907 in Lawrence, Kansas. His parents were prominent members of the community. His father, Joe, had wanted as a child to work with horses. After a successful career as an athlete and scholar at the University of Kansas he went to work with iron horses, e.g. the Sante Fe Railroad. He had met his wife, Della Stewart, while at the University. She was a prominent member of Kappa Alpha Theta sorority and sang in student musicals. John was their only child and on him they lavished their affections, especially his mother. In 1954 he wrote Della: “What a wonderful home background and training I had. When I see the strange misfits we are getting in college from these divided homes, where both parents work, etc…I appreciate all the more what you and Dad and Nannie did for me.”

In 1915 Joe was transferred to California, first to Los Angeles and later Long Beach, where he was the City Passenger Agent. In California’s progressive schools John thrived. He showed early academic promise and much talent. At Benjamin Franklin Junior High, he was elected the equivalent of student body president, president of the newly formed Honor Scholarship Society, edited the school paper and on graduation in 1924 was selected Salutatorian. In an 8th grade essay on what school meant to him, he described his various scholastic activities and then concluded: “Now you can see why my school means so much to me. It’s not just to learn the three Rs’, it is to teach me to be a good citizen. It seems to be a personal friend ready to help me and teach me whenever I need it.” Here was someone who loved to learn. His affection for his father was reflected in a junior high speech for a father-son event. John wrote: “There is only one boy in all the world that can be the kind of chum we want, all the time, and that’s dad! Fathers, that is what we expect of you. There is no pal that can be the kind of pal to us, that you can, if you want to.”

At Long Beach Polytechnic High School, John became one of its most prominent students. He was President of the Glee Club, editor of the year book, played double bass in the school orchestra, acted, a member of the Writers’ Club, a founder of Lambda Gamma Nu honorary debating fraternity as well as a high school fraternity. He took voice lessons and occasionally gave concerts or sang in local churches. Just before graduation, he was selected to participate in “Boys Week Observance.” For a day he served as a city councilman. Whatever his views on citizenship were, they did not include running for public office. His one day as a city official was the only occasion he ever held public office. Shortly after he graduated, he experienced for the first time the death of someone he admired. The faculty adviser of the Glee Club, Ethel Ardis, unexpectedly died. He kept two copies of her obituary to his dying day. Her influence on him is untold. She represented his greatest passion, music, and she reflected positively on her place of birth, Alabama.

Of the papers John still possessed at the time of his death, those from his school years were the most complete. Either he or most probably his mother saved every newspaper clipping or program, among other things in which his name appeared. His papers included his first national publication for the annual publication, the Acacia entitled “Sketches of the Grand Canyon” was accepted by a subsidiary of the Atlantic Monthly, called Magazine World for its November, 1927 issue. In an article praising his latest accomplishment, he was described as “one of the best all-round students” at Polytechnic. On his graduation, his acting teacher, Zora Gridley, wrote: “Your high ideals and kindly thoughtfulness of others have always been an inspiration to me. It’s folks like you, although we seldom meet them, who make a teachers’ work worthwhile.”

In the fall of 1927, he went off to Berkeley. Why, his papers give no clue—possibly because he had a grandmother nearby; possibly because he did not want to be far from his family. In fact, all his degrees, came from Berkeley and with extraordinary speed. From receiving his B.A. in 1931, he took only four years to receive a MA. and a Ph.D. in European history. While serving as a teaching assistant, he studied under the French expert, Franklin Palm. When history replaced music as his main pursuit is not clear. He had set out to learn to be a professional singer. In one of the few items from his Berkeley days in his papers is a highly illuminating freshman essay, explaining his attitude toward music at this point in his education. He wrote:

“As far back as I can remember, I loved music. My mother played the piano, and nothing pleased me more than to sit beside her while she played. And then, after she left the room, I would steal up to the piano, and play strange, meaningless things, as babies will. When I was ten, I began to study the piano. I will never forget what a wonderful person my teacher was in my eyes and I looked on her as a sort of fairy-godmother, who had magic powers to unlock the secrets of music.”

His English teacher wrote: “This is the best thing you have written.” Those who know the end of this story will be struck at how his life comes full circle.

His papers give only a few hints as to his various activities while a college student. He pledged his father’s fraternity, Phi Kappa Psi, was tapped into Phi Beta Kappa and made many close friends. On his 21st birthday, an old family friend wrote: “I have taken a great deal of pleasure in watching your career since I have known you, and, have been greatly pleased from my observations.”

One event, which changed his life, was the 1935 Rose Bowl game. As one of the students assigned to host the Alabama team on its fifth visit, he made a favorable impression on Dean A. B. Moore. Moore evidently offered him a job in the History Department. When John failed to get the job at Berkeley for which he had applied, he accepted Moore’s offer. The middle of the Depression was no time to be unemployed no matter how lofty one’s goals. Presumably, like many out-of-state academics who come to the Capstone, he did not expect to stay long.

From graduation to arriving at his first and only permanent teaching job was merely a matter of months; he remained forty-two years. His promotion through the ranks was almost as fast as his degree record and possibly would have been faster but for WWII. Even though he had a Ph.D. he started as an Instructor in 1935, became a tenured Assistant Professor two years later and celebrated with a leave of absence in France. None of his letters for this period are in his papers, only replies. They hint that he was not very happy. In one undated letter from fraternity brother, John Hart, I found: “I am sorry to hear about the situation south of the Mason & Dixon line, and appreciate that it is no laughing matter…” In one from 1937, Hart asked: “Do the Alabamians know to what cold, clear scrutiny they are exposing their secrets?” Between teaching four classes, John prepared his dissertation for publication. One Milestone event was returning to the Rose Bowl with the Crimson Tide Team in January, 1938. Although sports had been no part of his life hitherto, he seemed to get a vicarious enjoyment out of the team’s success as well as of befriending football players. Appreciative of his interest, they remained life-long friends and supporters of John. One of the first was Jim Tipton, a future Air Force general. In 1938 he wrote Della: Mrs. Ramsey, do you realize that your son is entirely too sensitive? He makes me mad, sometimes wrongly interpreting some of my clumsy words and actions. Perhaps, if I may have your permission, someday I shall turn him across my knee and spank him—as I have threatened to do many times.”

When America entered the Second World War, John convinced the Army Air Force that he had skills they needed. They employed him as a civilian to teach map-reading and stationed him in Coronado del Mar, California. He evidently expected to be given a commission for his services. In July, 1942 John Hart wrote “Your description of the surrealist frustration of army administration struck a familiar note.” The following year, Tipton, now a pilot, wrote: “I am sorry you are so bitter about a uniform.” Although there is a photograph of him in a uniform in his papers, it is not clear he ever received a commission. Most of those close to him think he did not. Certainly, in later years he talked little about his wartime experiences.

VJ Day brought not only the end of the war but for John promotion to an associate professorship and a full professorship two years later. By now Berkeley had published his first book, his dissertation on Anglo-French diplomacy after the Seven Years War. With the business of tenure and promotion behind him, John plunged into active involvement in University life, both on the faculty as well as student level. During the next twenty years, he chaired every principal committee on campus, ranging from the Athletic Committee to the University Awards Committee and Phi Beta Kappa. He was the first president of the A &S Faculty Senate, a precursor to our present Faculty Senate. He served as Chairman of the History Department 1971-1975, succeeding Charles Summersell. During this same period he founded a chapter of Phi Kappa Psi, took an active role in what was then the premier male honorary on campus, Jasons, and the national leadership honorary, ODK. Perhaps the most unusual organization with which he was associated was the athletic or A club. John, who by now was rotund and would not walk one step more than he could drive, became and remained for years the secretary of the A Club. In the process of working with students, he gave always practically all he earned to worthy but needy students. When the State Retirement System was established after the war, he did not sign up for it. Because John’s father died at seventy-two, John felt he would not live long enough to benefit. He witnessed the mob violence, which accompanied integration and Autherine Lucy’s brief studentship in the 1950s and his letters to Della about this period are valuable eyewitness accounts. They are included in the 20th Anniversary memoir the Ramsey Award Board published in 1997.

From the 1960s until his retirement he was active on the state level in several organizations. At one time or another, he served as an officer in the Alabama Council for the Social Studies, what HEW called the “State Committee on the Humanities and Public Policy”, provisional president of the newly formed Alabama Association of Historians in 1973 and then its first president, 1974-1976.

Retirement in 1977 was bitter-sweet. The Department gave him a lavish dinner party and a handsome piece of silver. His students and various groups gave him a reception at Tuscaloosa Country Club which hundreds attended. The Alumni Association bestowed on him its highest honor, the “Outstanding Commitment to Teaching Award.” The University presented him with the highest award the University gives, an honorary Ph.D degree, an award that had never been given to a retiring faculty member. The Alabama Association of Historians named its top award in his honor. Out of the retirement gatherings came a proposal to establish a scholarship in his honor. The John Fraser Ramsey Award became the first university-wide endowed prize for that junior whose taste most reflected John’s renaissance outlook. A former student who John had helped put through law school, Warren Herlong, became the driving force behind raising the money and became the Chair of the Ramsey Award Board. Members of the History Department gave generously to get it launched. John’s fraternity, Phi Kappa Psi, contributed then a huge sum of a thousand dollars. Friends and former students followed. To the surprise of the University Development Office the necessary level of $10,000 was quickly reached for an endowment and before the first award bestowed in 1978 the endowment had grown to $15,000. With each recipient John found himself introduced to a new friend and admirer until his death in 1983. The first recipient, Ann Lee, and the third recipient, Law School Professor Marilyn Drees, played prominent roles in organizing the twentieth anniversary celebration in 1997.

That was the sweet part; the bitter was that he had no retirement money. Moreover, he was in declining health, suffering from Parkinson’s and diabetes. Within two years there was a major financial crisis. When once asked about his investments, John had replied: “What investment? My friends are my investments.” To another he explained: “ I always felt that giving to my friends when they needed it was the best investment I could make.” He was right. His friends now came to his rescue. Most generous of all was the offer from Billy and Rachel Cadenhead to come live with them in Florence, Alabama, They had known John since they were undergraduates after the war and Billy had been captain of the football team. The big question was: would John leave Tuscaloosa? Rachel later wrote: “We soon resolved to travel to Tuscaloosa for the sole purpose of inviting Dr. Ramsey to live with us. We sat in his living room at 20 1/2 Audubon Place and talked about everything but the reason for our visit. Finally either Billy or I ‘popped the question.’ We were literally holding our breath, but Dr. Ramsey instantly said, “Yes. When?” The only request he made was that, when he became too much of a burden, he be packed off to a nursing home.

Others rallied. The University came up with a small monthly contribution from a fund the President had for indigent professors. Friends from around the State rallied to help John prepare for the move, clean out his apartment, pack hundreds of records and to buy some of his effects or to help with the garage sale. John seemed to enjoy seeing his things sold off. He was happy some of them went to friends while the money spent by strangers added to his security. After forty-five years in Tuscaloosa, John then moved to Florence on a hot July day in a U-haul with Billy Cadenhead driving. There, he enjoyed two good years, lovingly cared for by the Cadenheads, fated by neighbors and called upon by old friends. As long as his health permitted, he gave talks and publicly reviewed books for various groups. His favorite activity was watching Rachel give piano lessons. He sat, briefly transported in thoughts to his youth.

Near the end of his life John needed constant medical attention and had to be moved to a nursing facility. When the day came and, as Rachel began to pack his things, John requested that she put on the stereo Brahms’ “First Symphony.” “As the gorgeous music wafted through our house,” she later wrote, “I did my best to hide my tears.” John lived another seven months, quickly becoming the favorite patient of the staff and visited every evening by the Cadenheads, bearing his favorite drink, a martini. He made one last visit to campus in January, 1983 to be honored not by the History Department or any official arm of the University by but his fraternity. Organized by Fred Clay and Jay Masingill, the present chair of the Ramsey Board, Phi Kappa Psi gave him a champagne party on the occasion of the dedication of the John Ramsey Room in the house. It was one of the happiest days of his life. He died quietly less than three weeks later. The last to see him was Rachel, whose intuition that day told her to squeeze in a visit to John on the way to a luncheon engagement. They shared a last noontime bloody mary together.

There was no funeral. By special permission of the University, part of his ashes were scattered on the Civil War Mound on the Quad, a special place for him and where all Honors Day activities take place. A part of his ashes were scattered on the Phi Kappa Psi fraternity lawn, a chapter he had founded at the University. Obituaries appeared in a number of state newspapers. Senator Howell Heflin entered into the Congressional Record a memorial to John. Among many works of praise, Heflin suggested that Alabama had “lost one of its most outstanding citizens.” Bill Barnard, History Department Chairman, said of John that “he was one of the most beloved historians among his colleagues in the state.” His life-long friend, Charles Summersell, noted that John was more than simply and excellent teacher: “He influenced lives. By his close personal interest and concern, he formed an endless chain of influence on individuals, particularly students.” In celebration of an John’s exemplary life, large sums of money poured into the John Ramsey Award fund.

When asked what his thoughts were on life after death, he replied: “…I am sure that a personality can continue to exist, after the body passes, in the hearts of those who have been touched by it.” Again, John was right. Although he never married, John left behind a family. It gathers annually at a dinner following Honors Week to welcome the newest recipient into the Ramsey family. Affectionately emceed by John’s protégé, Professor Morris Mayer, it is an evening in which stories about John are told, when old friendships are renewed and new ones made, and a few tears shed. Even strangers are moved by the wonderful, funny and touching stories that are John’s legacy. In winning the John Ramsey Award, the recipient has a tie with the University that is life-long and central to his or her on-going connection to the Capstone.

F. Russell Bryant

History Professor

University of Alabama