In Memoriam: former Master of Champlain, Jim MacAdam

As many Champlain students know, Noranne and I were very saddened to learn last week of the death of Professor Jim MacAdam, who served as Master of Champlain from 1987 to 1995. Noranne knew him very well, and I was fortunate to have met him during my first term as Head of the college. In fact, he was a part of Champlain life recently, and attended the gala opening of the Champlain Living Learning Commons early in November.

Another previous Master of Champlain, Professor Emeritus John Burbidge, gave remarks at a memorial for Professor MacAdam that was held in the former Champlain Master's Lodge yesterday, November 24, 2010. His remarks included memories shared by Professor Emeritus David Gallop, another colleague from Trent's Philosophy Department. I thought that current Champlain students and readers of this blog would appreciate reading these remarks, not only as a remembrance of an extraordinary leader of our community, but also as a window into the deep history and character of Champlain College. Many thanks to Professors Burbidge and Gallop for sharing this text with us.

JAMES MacADAM 1930-2010

A number of years ago, a young Jim MacAdam enrolled in the MA program in philosophy at Queen's University. In those glorious days, every incoming student was interviewed by the registrar, and so Jim found himself in front of the formidable Jeannie Royce. She looked at his file: “I see that you have been teaching physical education. What made you decide to take up philosophy?” “Well,” Jim replied, “I've had th-th-th-three c-c-c-concussions!”

That little story sums up a number of key features of Jim. In the first place, the fact that he was the butt of his own stories reveals how comfortable he was in his own skin. He was never overwhelmed by adversity, but always faced life with a positive and enthusiastic interest, seeing “the funny side of any situation.” As David Gallop writes: “This extended even to his own severe injury from the car accident in 1988. In recovering from that trauma, and in completing his term as Master of Champlain College, he showed the utmost fortitude and nobility of spirit.”

Second, he was a jock, playing rugby and baseball when he was young; later on, golf in the summer and curling in the winter. When his blunted left hand prevented him from holding the broom to maintain his balance on the curling rink, he would just reach out that arm as far as possible, making an interesting spectacle as he slid down the ice.

Third, he loved philosophy, even more than athletics and, quoting David Gallop again, “was unswerving in his dedication to it and inventive in its teaching. His many bold academic initiatives included the international conference on Jean-Jacques Rousseau at Trent in 1978 which initiated the North American Rousseau Society, the use of 'moots', or 'mock-trials', in philosophy-of-law courses, with collaboration from the legal profession, and two series of lectures on Great Philosophers in the Peterborough Public Library.” After he retired he discovered some unpublished writings of H.A. Prichard, an eminent Oxford philosopher, and edited them into a fine volume, published by Oxford University Press and dedicated “For the Love of my Wife, Elizabeth, and our Children”.

But there are other features that are only implicit in that little story of Jeannie Royce. Jim was committed to undergraduate teaching, maintaining a continual guerilla war against the moves made to establish graduate programs in the humanities. David Gallop: “He probably fitted, better than anyone else at Trent, the image that many people have of 'the true philosopher', a role that he filled in the most endearing fashion. [David} still remember[s] an occasion when Jim was lecturing on Thomas Hobbes, and a pneumatic drill started up right outside the lecture-theatre. He remained quite unfazed, and doggedly plunged ahead with his lecture, despite being completely inaudible for about ten minutes.” Students recall the time when, in a tutorial, he leaned back in his chair to expound on a point and, as the chair continued its arc towards the floor, Jim went on, equally unfazed, with his exposition.

Jim was committed to Champlain College. He had the only office in the university which gives directly on to the river and once, in the middle of a class, he wandered over to the window, where a bell on a fishing rod was jangling, and calmly reeled in a small bass. His interest in all aspects of college life reached its culmination when he was appointed Master in 1987, and Jim and Betty became involved closely with the many and diverse students who made up the college community welcoming them into the warmth of this room.

Finally, and most important, Jim was a friend. I don't mean simply that he was my valued friend, though that is true enough. But he was a friend to the very core of his being. As David says: “He was an ideal mentor for someone new to Trent, because he personified all that the University and its college system stood for.” The young Harry and Caroline Kitchen, uncertain as, for the first time, they approached the Master's Lodge and an initial encounter with the redoubtable William and Peg Morton, were greeted by Jim and Betty and made to feel at home. The two of them, Jim and Betty, were genial and kindly hosts, regularly entertaining supervisees and students over a meal in their home. Jim continued to follow the careers of former students and towards the end was contemplating a visit to Tony Arthur, High Commissioner from the Barbados to the Court of St. James.

Let me conclude with, once again, the words of David Gallop: “When the next history of Trent comes to be written, Jim will surely deserve to be chronicled as one of its most courageous early pioneers. For now, he will be remembered with affection by everyone who was warmed by his friendship and by his generosity of heart.”

--John Burbidge