Lewis Glen Brierley
It's been fun
by Dr. Ron Farrar
Before he died,
Lewis Glen Brierley wrote an e-mail to friends.
The doctors had told him the cancer had spread, there
was nothing more they could do, and that the end was
very near. His e-mail wasn't for condolences, Lou wrote,
but simply to let friends know they wouldn't be hearing
from him again.
There was not a trace of remorse or self-pity in
his message. Instead, he thanked the doctors, nurses,
hospital and hospice people who'd kept him going the
past three years. Too, he wanted to thank others who'd
made his life so very enjoyable. The e-mail was entitled "It's
Been Fun." |
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Links
Obituary
It's February 2005, and I've
got a story to tell
by Lou Brierley |
Lou
was born and raised in a blue-collar suburb of Providence,
Rhode Island. He was an energetic lad interested mostly in
sports and art. He won swimming championships in high school.
His artistic talents earned him a B.A. from the Minneapolis
School of Design and an M.F.A. from Yale.
 After working some
years as a commercial artist, he landed a job at the University
of South Carolina. Teaching came naturally to him. He was
good at it and never tired of coaching his students. The
most joyous moments, he told a friend, were when he happened
to be in his class with a kid just "as the light comes
on." His graphics course was required for advertising
majors, many of whom had little interest in, or aptitude
for, design. Lou worked equally with those who were gifted
and those who weren't. His teaching evaluations were always
among the highest—this on a faculty where strong teaching
was the norm.
However, Lou refused to play certain Academic Games—self-promotion,
publish-or-perish—and he seemed mystified by those
who did. As a result he never got the raises or the rank
he deserved. Too consumed with teaching, apparently. One
dean, exasperated with Lou, sent him a threatening e-mail
warning that if he didn't reorder his priorities he would "become
a dinosaur." Lou replied that he liked his priorities
the way they were, thank you very much, and he was too old
to change. He signed his reply "Tyrannosourus Rex."
 Lou did indeed publish a great deal, but not in academic
journals. Instead, he wrote for a local sports newspaper, Spurs
and Feathers. He didn't get paid much, but the part-time
work got him access to the press box, the post-game briefings
with coaches, and an inside look at Gamecock athletics. He
never lost his interest in sports.
Or, for that matter, in teaching. After he retired from
USC, he conducted numerous workshops all over the region
for editors of business publications, advertising people,
and anybody else interested in graphic design.
By this time, computer-generated graphics could handle
much of this more efficiently, but no computer ever built
could possess Lou Brierley's vibrant, supportive personality.
He was a superb colleague. His wit, irreverent and lightning
quick, brightened many an otherwise dreary faculty meeting.
Lou was a great needler, but his zingers—always spot
on target—were never delivered with malice.
In his final e-mail, Lou's thoughts were of others, and
especially his wife. "I'd appreciate a kind prayer
for Carol," he wrote, "who must carry the burden
by herself. . . A prayer is a marvelous thing."
When news of his death reached his colleagues, one of them
called Carol and could say only "We all loved him."
"Everybody did," she said. |
