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My father died when i was 2 years of age. I wrote this for a Family Reunion back in 2001
Thoughts and Memories of My Father:
This is my father. From what I recall hearing about him when I was young, the word 'father' was stressed. Never "dad" or "daddy". Father. His name was George Washington Schaeffer. Actually that's Junior. George W. (argh!) Schaeffer, Jr. Born and raised in Oak Park, Illinois, George was a Boy Scout through to the rank of Eagle Scout. I often wore the sash for displaying his earned merit badges, not knowing what they stood for but enjoying the spectacular weaving of them. I had heard from my older siblings that he was a firm disciplinarian, bordering on being emotionally abusive. I wouldn't know; George died when I was two years of age. George had two siblings, Don and Evelyn. Don I had met on several occasions and he put me on the mailing list of "The Underground Grammarian", a periodical he contributed to frequently. Aunt Ev, as we knew her, was as obscure to me as George was. All I knew of her was she married a "famous artist", Richard M. Powers, and lived in Connecticut. My sister Maria and I visited them in 1963 with our mother, Rita, but the only thing I remember from that trip was being too frightened by the paintings in the bottom of their pool to go swimming!
(portrait of George by Richard Gorman Powers)
These are memories, some real, some possibly imagined that have accumulated over my life.
My impression of George, however misplaced, was one of a staunch conservative who would have voted for Goldwater, Nixon and Reagan had he been alive. The only indication to the contrary was during the first Nixon campaign when Rita and I were watching the news in her room and her saying "George always said, 'if that man ever got into office this country would be in loads of trouble'". Other than that, Rita rarely spoke of him, sadly. Not that I was one to question her about him, sadder still. This hard right Republican vision of George lasted up to 1998, when during a conversation with Nora, we opened up about him. But first, a little about myself.
Coming of age in the late '60s and early '70s, the grade school Maria, Benet and I attended was operated by rather liberal nuns. The sisters of the order of The Blessed Virgin Mary had taken an anti-war stance during the police action in Viet Nam and had hired several of the teachers we had on a war deferment. To say we had a "liberal education" would be putting it lightly. Aside from the curriculum, some of the more aware students were given books by these teachers. By the seventh grade I had read "Black Like Me", "Steal This Book", "Do It!", and "The Autobiography Of Malcolm X". More like a radical education, to say the least. And it was through this filter that memories of George were filtered as I was growing up. To me George was "The Man". The conversation with Nora was revelatory and epiphanous. Some things I learned were:
George and Rita worked on the editorial board of the Catholic Worker, a publication that ran soup kitchens and clothing outlets for the homeless headed by social activist and author, Dorothy Day;
It is believed that George testified on behalf of his boss at the Manhattan Project, Hermann Schlesinger, before the House Un-American Activities Committee.
There was, we understand from conversations with his peers, talk of George being nominated for a Nobel Prize;
George was directly responsible for the first African-American receiving a Ph. D. from St. Louis University. He had threatened his resignation as head of the Chemistry Dept. if Al Stewart were not awarded his doctorate. Dr. Stewart went on to become Vice-president of Union Carbide;
Some years after his death, a Jewish family, The Heymanns from Baltimore, moved in across the street from us on our little cul du sac. Ours was the only family to approach them and make them welcome. All others ignored them for months;
The Society Of Inorganic Chemists dedicated Vol. 1, No. 1 of its periodical "Inorganic Chemistry" to George and two of his peers. Prof. Schlesinger and Wendell M. Latimer;
I hear that while his brother Don was in Bermuda (?), he met Robert Oppenhiemer and when asked if he knew of George replied, "Yes, George Schaeffer was a wonderful man and a brilliant scientist!"
As one might imagine, I was totally overwhelmed to learn these things. My heart swelled with pride to realize that I was the progeny of such a great man. Here was a man who, from what were my unfounded beliefs, I was almost glad died when I was such a young age, suddenly becoming one of my all-time heroes. Rita rarely spoke of her husband and, retrospectively, I can hold no malice toward her. She was left with six children to raise and it is no great secret that in the wake of all this, she turned to drink. I personally have dealt with the demons of alcoholism. As stated earlier, I was never one to ask about George. Maybe it was in the nature of his work on the Manhattan Project, being sworn to secrecy, and Rita's absolute compliance with that oath that had her of the mind that she shouldn't talk of him and his work. Understandable, given the time and the age, yet an absolute shame that his life should be so shrouded from his children.
Below are some excerpts of letters Monica has sent to various parties in her arduous research into establishing the cause of George's death. They fill in many empty spaces surrounding this special man who I am now so very proud to call my father.
stlsaxman
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