Richard Fleming here, firstborn son of Professor John V. Fleming, writing uninvited in the shadow of greatness. It is with deep sadness that I report to you, the readers of gladlylerne, the passing away of my father on May 30th, ten days after his 90th birthday. He is desperately missed by his three children Richard, Katy, and Luke, and by his wife of 62 years, Joan.
Princeton University, where Dad taught for more than forty years and inspired multiple generations of students with his unfathomable erudition and enthusiasm, has published a moving obituary, here.
Please join us for a memorial in the Princeton University Chapel on Friday, September 25th at 1:30 pm.
If you have a memory of my father, an anecdote or story you would like to share, please send it to richardarthurfleming@gmail.com.
Reading John Fleming's blog became a weekly habit several years ago, reinforced by the discovery that he and I were both elderly Arkansans who had retired from a teaching career in the Northeast, and that we shared many tastes, habits, and experiences. I will miss Gladly Lerne, and his voice. Please accept my condolences for your loss.
ReplyDeleteI first came to know Mr. Fleming during the 1968-1969 academic year, in his roles both as a preceptor in D.W. Robertson's Chaucer course and as the first Master of Wilson College. He has always been, and will continue to be, my paradigm for profound erudition, which he combined with curiosity, humor, tolerance, and the modesty of a man who knew with complete assurance who he was and what he wanted to be. I will miss his Wednesday columns, will miss my occasional encounters with him on the campus, and will remember him with abiding affection. JAK, the Great Class of 1970.
ReplyDeleteI had the great pleasure of taking Prof. Fleming's Chaucer course in the late 1970s, and 40 years later went on a Princeton Journeys trip which he led, "The Great Libraries of England". He was erudite, kind, and kept us smiling with his wonderful sense of humor. We shall not see his like again.
ReplyDeleteDuring the late 1980s, I attended the Bread Loaf School of English. One summer I was fortunate enough to take Professor Fleming's course of "The Classical Tradition." It was a wonderful experience for all of us. Professor Fleming delighted us with his learning, his wit, his down-to-earth manner, and his kindness. What I most remember about him was his approach to grading our essays, a practice both unnerving and wise. Professor Fleming did not assign a grade to each essay; instead, we received a long, very thoughtful letter discussing the strengths and the shortcomings of our work. Invariably, these notes were laudatory but honest. For me, so concerned about the grades I might earn, this wise practice brought me back to basics - that what really mattered was learning how to improve my essays, not the letter grade. For years now, I looked forward to reading Gladly Lerne, Gladly Teche each Wednesday. morning. I shall miss hearing his voice. My sincere condolences to all of John's family, especially Joan, and John Henry and Hazel, about whom he wrote so affectionately. Thank you Professor Fleming.
ReplyDeleteJohn and Joan generously included me in their lives, both before and after my graduation from Princeton in 1971. Our paths crossed many times, always nourished by friendship, by conversation, by good music, and by our mutual interest in higher education. Our friendship was also sustained by our treasured memories of the first iteration of Wilson College, a rollicking experiment in Princeton living & learning during the late 1960s and early 70s. It has been a pleasure to read the many posthumous tributes since John passed away on May 30. John was and is admired for his scholarship, his teaching, his visionary conception of undergraduate life, his life-long passion for poetry and skillful commentary thereupon. But nothing in John’s amazing life surpassed his commitment to Joan, to his children, and to his beloved grandchildren. He adored his family, and they - no less generously - kindly shared this brilliant, unforgettable man with the rest of us. Rest in Peace, dear John.
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