My mom is 84 (born February 26,1922) and my Dad is 88 (born
July 21, 1918). I have not seen them in a few years. You might think I am a bad
son, but, as I see it, we are no more dysfunctional than a lot of families and
I have my own family to think about: my 19-year old son (Ben) in college, my
24-year old daughter (Lindsey) and my wife (Lynn). In addition, of course I
have my job and lately, an all-consuming drive to learn how to play golf well
enough to relax and lower my handicap in the process. I am a grown man – I am
not going to make excuses for not checking in on my parents more. I love them
today as I always have.
Mom is loosing her short-term memory and Dad’s hearing
continues to decline. Imagine trying to have a conversation with these two
people. They are outstanding individuals. If character is destiny, their
lives almost dictate how they choose to deal with each other and those around
them. A background sketch of each might help illustrate what I mean.
A sketch of my father:
Dad has been loosing his hearing for years. Not a problem
really, since he was never a person particularly interested in listening to
anyone anyway. (My experience, at least.) He is a charming man with a
fascinating background.
He was as an unremarkable student at St. Ignatius
High School in Cleveland. (He was never a good student, but even then, a
promising artist and illustrator. He drew a cartoon called Aloysius the Cat for
his yearbook. He studied magazine illustrations and worked at copying them for
fun).
He was a college football star. Three-year letter
winner and two-year starter as both offensive and defensive lineman. Played on
John Carroll's first and only Big Four championship team in 1939. Team's record
was 13-3-1 (.794) in his two years as a starter
(He was 60-minute Morgan at John Carroll University
in Cleveland). He majored in philosophy – which my Mom playfully refers to a
major in football. Good thing too because after he graduated in 1940 (52 years
later), they installed him into the school’s sports Hall of Fame (October
1992).
He was an art student. He studied at Parsons School
of Design in New York where he began to solidify his career path before the
call of military duty to country caused him to take a detour. This year at
Parsons and the time in New York City influenced him greatly.
He was a soldier during World War II; First enlisting
and later entering officer candidate’s school (OCS). He served as a leader of a
camouflage unit and later led Black troops (at a time when the army was still
segregated). He went wherever they asked him to go and yet was able to stay out
of harm’s way. He served his country with honor for over four years.
He became a commercial artist and employee at
Malmquist Studio. He was an artist who routinely performed his duties and a
loyal employee until a mix up in paychecks revealed to him an inequity in
compensation that firmed his resolve to start his own business.
He was a successful businessman and citizen of
Cleveland, Ohio. (He founded Morgan Studio in 1951 as “the architects of the
printed page.” He was convinced that design was a noble and worthy profession.
Along the way, Morgan Studio did work for companies big and small: Ohio Bell
Telephone, Youngstown Steel Door, Lake Erie Screw Corporation, Mooney
Chemicals, Cleveland Federal Savings and Bonne Bell Cosmetics are some of the
firms that relied on Morgan Studio for quality advertising, art and photography
applied to everything from annual reports to package design
Husband to Mary Lawton Morgan for 64 years and
counting (married in December of 1942).
Father to Sundance (formerly James O’Connell Morgan
Jr. – born 1944), Mary Lynn (born 1952), Wesley (born 1955), Gregory (born
1956), Daniel (Born 1958) and Robert Morgan (born 1959)
My mother was a devoted wife and mother with a passion for
the theater (and theatrics too). She participated in hundreds of community
theater productions as an actress and director. She even won a best actress
award for her role in Veronica’s Room at the Lakewood Little Theater
(later renamed the Beck Center). She went back to school, at Case Western
Reserve University, and earned a Masters Degree in her early 40s.
Her acting credits included: The Deadly Game; The Cactus
Flower; Oklahoma and The Prime of Miss Jean Brody. Her directorial credits
include: The Roar of the Greasepaint, The Smell of the Crowd; You’re
a Good Man Charlie Brown; Man of La Mancha (and others at Clague
Playhouse) and West Side Story (at St. Edwards High School). She
lectured at the Rose & Crown Inn before the opening of Taming of the
Shrew at the Great Lakes Shakespeare Festival. She was sensational.
Mother to Sundance (formerly James O’Connell Morgan
Jr. – born 1944), Mary Lynn (born 1952), Wesley (born 1955), Gregory (born
1956), Daniel (Born 1958) and Robert Morgan (born 1959) - Six children and at
least seven miscarriages.
She drove a Lincoln Continental – a black one much as the
one JFK was riding in when he as shot in Dallas in 1963. Her Lincoln was more
like 1967 and was outfitted with seatbelts - front and back - for transporting
kids safely.
So, put the artist and the dramatist together for all those
years and add the hearing problem (for him) and the loss of short-term-memory
(for her) and you have two people who are dealing with old man time with
incredible style. He talks as if to understand two way conversations and she
sparkles as if enjoying a lovely coherent train of thought. Both are brilliant
portrayals of perception over reality.
A knock at the door.
The door opens a crack. Mom peaks out.
“Who is it? What do you want?” (Mom is playfully pretending
not to recognize her own son at the front doorway. We know the day could come
when, in fact she does not recognize us. Maybe she is practicing her lines for
the role - when that day comes.)
“Its me,” says Rob, growing tired of the routine. (He
reports that this little game is a standard weekend drill. He is a good son and
visits often to check in on both of his parents.)
Rob described this game in some detail before Greg and I got
to see the performance live and almost exactly as he described it. It is sad,
amusing, and a little annoying all at the same time.
Almost as if adding a little comedy to the situation, a
cuckoo clock that hangs just inside the foyer chimes in with a “cuckoo cuckoo.”
Mom has not seen Greg, Wes and Rob together in quite some
time – maybe 4-5 years. We are a family of six but somehow Mom thinks of the
four boys as a separate unit. (I have never liked that notion. It’s almost as
if my oldest brother Sundance – 11 years my senior and my sister Lynn who is 3
years older have been written into some other chapter of her life and memory.)
“Who’s missing?” Mom asks as she considers the three of us.
“Sundance? Lynn?”
“No, I mean of the four. Who’s missing?”
“Dan.”
“Oh.”
“Cuckoo-Cuckoo”
Dad smiles as if to understand the line of questioning, but
it does not matter. It is not important. He learned how to appear engaged in
conversation while Mom entertains a long time ago. He knows the act and smiles
as if to enjoy.
When Dad does get a word in edge-wise, he tends to reflect
on any number of really wonderful chapters in his life. The football star, the
war, the early days in business and each topic is fascinating but he is not
much of a storyteller. Mom has saved him from bad reviews repeatedly. She cuts
him off before he has to finish almost any story. Only with the Morgan kids, we
kind of wish she would let him go on a bit. On this occasion she does. Dad
tells a few tales of Army life and the early career as a commercial artist.
“Bernard Baruch. You once said you met Bernard Baruch on a
train when you were in the Army,” I reminded him. But he did not hear me. He
continues his story about a train ride that is from the same period in his
life.
“Bernard Baruch.” I say a bit louder. (Bernard M. Baruch,
the "Park Bench Statesman," made his fortune on Wall Street and later
served his country as an economic adviser during both World Wars I and II as a
confidante to six presidents.)
“They want to know about Bernard Baruch.” My mother
enunciates and projects a little louder, and more clearly, so he can hear.
“Yes, I met him on a train on my way home to Cleveland from
South Carolina. His assistant/secretary approached me and said that Bernard
Baruch would like to have me join him for dinner.” (The story is just an
interesting juxtaposition of people and places. My Dad must have been a fine
looking soldier at the time.)
“I remember his entourage and seeing him wave to me after he
de-boarded the train. It was an interesting thing to have happen to me.”
Interestingly, my mother appears fatigued. All that acting,
takes a lot of energy. She’s more relaxed and settles into her chair a bit
more. She allows my father to talk. He seems to relish the opportunity.
“Did I ever tell you why I started Morgan Studio?”
“Yes you have.” (I do not think he heard me. Or maybe he
decided to repeat the story for Greg)
“I was working for Malmquist Studio in Cleveland. I was
routinely putting together this magazine for GE. I had been there about four
years. On payday, I got the wrong check by mistake. It was the paycheck of a
new hire. I realized very quickly that this new guy, who was doing pretty much
the same thing as me, was getting a bigger paycheck. I decided then and there
to learn as much as I could about running this kind of shop and open my own.”
(I love that story. As I understand it, it took a little while longer before he
worked up the nerve to leave and open Morgan Studio in 1951. When he last told
me that story, the office manager made the mistake. He got her to agree to help
him understand the systems for keeping and collecting time sheets and how to
handle billing, making it clear that he was not happy with the inequity of the
situation.)
It seemed only an instant in time. The next thing you know
I’m on American Airlines flight back to St. Louis with about 2 hours and 30
minutes to consider what it all means.
Wes Morgan
2 Glenmaro Lane
St. Louis, MO 63131
morganwes@aol.com
Photo above is circa 1977 of Mom and Dad in Cleveland
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James O'Connell Morgan '40
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Football
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Inducted October 9,
1992
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Three-year
letterwinner and two-year starter as both offensive and defensive lineman
Played on John Carroll's first and only Big Four championship team in 1939
Team's record was 13-3-1 (.794) in his two years as a starter
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