Jim Murphy died September 2. There's an announcement of his death
in this issue, but, as is the case with all obituaries, it only
tells part of the story.
Jim Murphy '47 came to work for Notre Dame in 1952. He was the
University's chief public relations officer when I came to work
here in 1977. He was one of the nicest, kindest gentlemen I've
ever known. He retired in 1992, and his final years were eventually
consumed by a struggle with Parkinson's that was both gallant
and heartbreaking.
I went to Jim's funeral a few days later, thinking mostly of
Jim and his family as I walked across a sunny campus to Sacred
Heart Basilica. It was there, sitting in a pew near the back,
that the full significance of this passing autumn occurred to
me.
Father Hesburgh, CSC, '39 gave the eulogy. Walt Collins '51,
former editor of this magazine, gave one of the readings. Across
the aisle were Jim Frick '51, '73Ph.D. and Bill Sexton, former
vice presidents for University relations. They had been in charge
-- first one and then the other -- of the University's public
relations and fund-raising efforts for 50 years. Five of the six
pallbearers have been colleagues of mine at Notre Dame -- Dick
Conklin '59M.A., Jim Gibbons '53, Chuck Lennon '61, '62M.A., Bruce
Harlan '49, '80M.A. and Denny Moore '70. Each has worked here
in University relations for decades.
Collectively this group has provided -- for 50 years -- the
words and photographs, the leadership and judgment that have made
Notre Dame's institutional advancement efforts a model of excellence
and care. Largely because of the group's good work and expertise,
few institutions in the world have the presence Notre Dame enjoys.
For five decades these men were largely responsible for that persona,
the face Notre Dame showed the world. All but two have retired
in recent years; Jim Murphy is the first of the old guard to pass
away. His funeral signaled the twilight of an era.
I have long admired these people as consummate professionals.
Whether planning formal dinners for donors, orchestrating fund-raising
campaigns or creating the materials that defined Notre Dame, they
were the best at what they did. They were the experts to whom
others came for advice, and they performed with integrity and
class, loyalty and wisdom, humility and humor.
Through the years I came to be equally impressed with them as
people. They have exemplified what is meant by "the Notre Dame
family." They have treated everyone -- benefactor, student, U.S.
president, trustee, support staff -- as individual persons deserving
the same respect and attention. They knew waitresses and custodians
by first name, could ask about their children while arranging
luncheons for heads of state.
Gracious egalitarians, they treated the many University employees
as partners in a common enterprise, recognizing that some just
happened to have different responsibilities. They appreciated
all those who contributed to the common good, and they habitually
expressed their gratitude for those gifts.
These were the men whose company I joined -- along with Carl
Magel '67, '68M.A., Dan Reagan '76, Jim Roemer '51, '55J.D. and
Pam Spence -- for weekly department head meetings when I became
editor of Notre Dame Magazine almost eight years ago.
Around that table was very little ego, virtually no flexing of
territoriality or power. They started meetings with a prayer.
They discussed a wide range of University issues, but they also
talked about who would go to the funeral when a benefactor had
died, what could be done for a faculty widow, a staff member's
son. Twice they gathered money for housekeepers whose uninsured
houses had burned down. They tended to employees suffering from
AIDS, depression, alcoholism, tragedy or illness. Even though
they gave their love and their lives to Notre Dame, they also
served on the boards of community civic organizations; they volunteered
to help those less fortunate.
In doing this they set a tone, established a culture of caring
and giving. They became friends, got to know each other's family,
were there for each other in good times and bad. In all they did,
they showed that people come first. They helped Jim Murphy through
his final days.
Jim Murphy had a wry and quiet sense of humor. He was also very
sharp, incisive. "Don't squander the mystique," he would say,
his eyes twinkling, reminding everyone to hold fast to the spirit
of this place. Jim Murphy (like others in the old guard whose
time has come and whose organization has now been divided and
restructured) demonstrated an ideal -- that Notre Dame is not
only an educational institution and a place to work, but it is
also a way of life.
Their legacy is a challenge to us all.
