The Passing of a Philosophy Professor

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I learned recently that Jim Magruder had passed away. Magruder was a retired professor of philosophy and later mathematics at Stephen F. Austin State University. He and Dick Lower essentially comprised the philosophy department at SFA in the mid-1970s, when I arrived as an 18-year-old eager to delve into complex tomes and gain knowledge.

In retrospect, I had a peculiar if fascinating college education. My ACT score was high enough to get me into the university’s Select Student program, which was patterned after UT’s venerable Plan II curriculum. Besides the state requirements for English, history and government — and I was able to place out of the latter — I could take any course I wished. This means I steered away from math, science and foreign languages and took a ridiculous number of courses in philosophy, English and history. I ended up with a triple major in those courses of study, and a minor in anthropology. I regret not taking math and science courses now, since I have never been able to help a child with math homework beyond basic Algebra, and my lack of science knowledge is embarrassing.

But I can talk about Descartes, Nietzsche, Hume, Kant and Sarte — all those dead white-guy philosophers. After four decades, I cannot tell you much, admittedly. But at the time I found it fascinating, and it shaped me somehow. If nothing else, I think it really taught me how to think for the first time as an adult. And Magruder and Lower were superb professors who invited their best students into their homes for informal sessions, came to our block parties to drink beer, went out of the way to make the relatively few of us who were majoring in philosophy the best students we could be.

Jim Magruder was tall and thin, slightly stooped in posture with thick steel-gray hair. He spoke deliberately and quietly. Dick Lower was a cyclone of action in the classroom, constantly running his fingers through his hair as he paced back and forth, attacking the blackboard to make a point. Together they made an impressive philosophy department for a small school in the Piney Woods of East Texas.

I dug out my transcript the other day to remind myself what philosophy courses I took. I took a total of 13 classes — 40 hours — in Existentialism, Ethics, Aesthetics, Symbolic Logic, History of Western Philosophy, Social and Political Philosophy and more. An introductory biology class would have been helpful down the road. I discovered in ensuing decades that a journalist needs to know at least a little bit about a lot of things. But I had a fine time at SFA studying in all three subject areas. I snuck in a few not-so-heavy classes, such as badminton and History of Country Music.

Happily, I did not have to explain to my parents exactly what I was going to do with a liberal arts degree. That’s because I was paying entirely for my education. I was married and my parents were working middle-class, with only my dad working. They could not afford to help, and I wanted to be on my own anyway, beholden to no one. The government was generous with grants and I ended up with student loans, though nothing like the onerous burden too many students bear these days. Since I was paying for college, I figured I would take the courses I wanted and just get a good liberal arts education. And I did, thanks to professors like Magruder and Lower, Fred Rodewald in English, Ab Abernethy and Archie McDonald in history.

Besides, I had a pretty good idea as my time at SFA neared an end, that I had caught a fatal dose of ink in my blood. I flirted with going to law school but abandoned the notion even after getting accepted to UT. Instead I eventually got a master’s in journalism so I could teach at the college level, which I have done several times. But newspapering is where I made my living, and it was both rich and rewarding over the years. I still stay connected through a second job as a newspaper broker, trying to put together buyers and sellers.

I still have a stack of my philosophy textbooks, and I thumbed through a few volumes the other night. I am considering reading Bertrand Russell’s “A History of Western Philosophy” again. It’s a classic.

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