Tuesdays With MacCormack

A student looks back fondly on his encounters with a former professor of music

By Andrew Lee

Some people can go through their entire life and never meet anyone who profoundly changes them. For me, there have been two such people: the first being my grandmother, who, in her sweet, angelic way, molded me into the person I am today. The second person was an older gentleman whom I would grow to respect and revere.

When I was a freshman at Old Dominion University in the fall of 1998, I got a job as a lifeguard at the Health and Physical Education Building pool. I began to notice an older gentleman who would come in and swim seemingly endless laps. He stood out because it looked as though he was drowning when he swam. However, this 79-year-old man continued swimming. As I watched him swim, he inspired me. I would often think to myself that when I get to be his age, I hope to be in as good of a shape.

As the semester progressed, we started to talk to each other. I learned that Dr. John MacCormack was an ODU emeritus professor of music and that he had been a sailor in World War II, nearly losing his life on more than one occasion. As he talked, I would sit in awe listening to how he narrowly escaped with his life in this battle and that battle.

His views on issues were never moderate. He was all or nothing. And he had vitriol for those who considered themselves elitists. He would often get into verbal quarrels with a group of professors that came to the gym with him. On more than one occasion he offended them to the point of them not speaking to him for a day or two. He would tell me that “they needed that,” so they would never forget who they were.

Our conversations would go on for more than an hour after he finished his laps. Always after he finished his laps. In my freshman year, I ran for president of the student body. The election was supposed to be a landslide: in one corner, me, a little-known freshman, pitted against a man who was editor of The Laureate, a long-time student senator and faculty favorite. Even though I lost, and only by 33 votes I might add, Dr. MacCormack’s advice to me helped make a one-sided election very close. He always stressed the importance of honesty. “Others will see through deception,” he would tell me. He tried to inculcate the importance of virtue and truth – life lessons that any candidate for office should have.

Toward the end of that semester, he began to tell me of the book he was writing. The working title escapes me, but even at his age he was searching for the meaning of life. He was searching for where the soul was. Where was it conceived? How? And who orchestrated it?

Among his most memorable quotes to me was, “You can never fully understand a woman.” As a freshman, I was in desperate need of any advice concerning women, and I hung on every word. He compared a woman’s personality to the wearing of seven veils. He said she only lets you see two or three, but the others will always remain a mystery.

My semester with Dr. MacCormack taught me so much. When I returned to school in the fall of 2000, a professor told me the good doctor had died in June. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. Until that point I had not been aware of the impact he had made upon me. I still expected to see him swimming up and down the pool.

Today, I no longer work at the H&PE pool, I am not desperate for advice about women (I would like to think I am now more confident in that area) and my time with Dr. MacCormack is only a memory. The brief time I did spend with him was, as my fraternity hymn says, “imbued with memories fond.” Nearly five years have now passed since his death, but his knowledge – the little bit he imparted to me – still lingers. I will always remember the good doctor. I will always remember Dr. John MacCormack.

Andrew Lee, who first enrolled at Old Dominion in 1998, is now a junior communication major and a member of the National Guard. He expects to receive his bachelor’s degree in December 2005.