Remembering Dan Leahy: October 6, 1943 – December 10, 2022
Dan Leahy was my former professor, mentor, and friend. The truth is, if you were his friend, you were family to him.
We met when I was a student in his freshman seminar in 1997. I was a shy girl hoping to make a new start in college. When applying for schools, my criteria was simple, I wanted to get as far away from hometown as possible. With the guidance of a guardian angel disguised as a high school guidance counselor, I chose Evergreen, a small, public liberal arts college in Olympia, Washington. At age eighteen, I moved from the arid deserts of Arizona to the coastal forests of the Pacific Northwest.
On the brutalist, moss frosted concrete campus, I spent my first two terms at Evergreen in Dan’s full-time core program, “America 2000,” studying American history and political economy of labor, education, and family at the turn of the 21 st century in the U.S. His curriculum was radical, informed by his background in public administration, labor and community organizing, and study of revolutionary groups. Under his supervision, I developed the intellectual foundation that my work and way in the world still rests upon.
Dan’s pedagogy was democratic. He demanded full participation, critical thinking and critical dialog, from everyone. I thought that I could pass through his class unnoticed if I did the readings and wrote the papers, but that wasn’t enough for Dan. I remember him pulling me aside after one particularly heated student discussion, in which I had stayed typically silent, and he told me, in essence, that he knew I had something to contribute and that my ideas and opinions mattered. He also threatened to withhold credit if I didn’t speak up. For the rest of the course, he challenged me in firm but caring ways to add my voice and perspective to classroom discourse. Never before had I been seen – actually seen through – and valued by a teacher in this way.
Dan was also the first male feminist I ever met. He made a big impression on me when one day he introduced a distinguished visitor to our group. He welcomed our guest, announcing her name, credentials, and outstanding professional achievements. Then, at the end of his introduction he added an afterthought, about Bethany Weidner, “she is also my wife.” By putting his wife’s work in the world ahead of her reproductive labor, he exemplified the camaraderie of revolutionary groups that flattened patriarchal hierarchy and placed women at the center.
Dan lived his values and his life was one of radical civic engagement. Twice he ran for public office. He was a force at rallying people around progressive ideas and actions. His strategy was friendship. He knew every single one of his neighbors’ names and stories about their lives. He tracked his former student’s activities and accomplishments, always with encouragement. After I graduated from college, Dan held the thread of our friendship for twenty-five years through regular correspondence: emails, postcards, poetry zines.
The week before Dan died, I wrote to tell him that I had dreamt he was elected president. In the dream, he drove me and a group of former students in a convertible with the top down in a parade to the White House, then hired us as his advisors. Dan responded promptly to my message replying, “What a fun dream. I do think we would need to remake the departments or maybe just special counsel. What would you like to be in charge of?”
Until the end of his life he was unceasingly supportive of me. I know he will continue to be.
Catherine Brooks, former student 1997-1998
