[ARETE] Dennis Gildea

[Jeffrey Segrave]

Very sad news!  Dennis and I go back a long way as SLA-ers. I have only the loveliest memories of him and of my numerous conversations and meals with him.  And the Springfield College SLA Meeting sticks out in my mind.  I still have the T-shirt!
He will be greatly missed.

From: Sport_literature_association <sport_literature_association-bounces at lists.ku.edu> On Behalf Of joyced1001--- via Sport_literature_association
Sent: Monday, May 4, 2020 7:12 PM
To: sport_literature_association at lists.ku.edu
Subject: [ARETE] Dennis Gildea

Sadly, we have lost another friend, companion, and SLA member. The tribute below is from his colleague and friend, Rick Paar.
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Dennis Gildea died yesterday morning, May 3, 2020, after a ten month duel with glioblastoma. I’ve never met anyone like him. I never will.

Dennis had an office in the English Department across the street from mine in the Psychology Department. My building was a cavern; a repurposed warehouse leftover the Springfield Electric Company with windows that you’d find in any county jail. His building was an old college infirmary that had nooks and crannies, stairs that creaked, and giant windows overlooking the college baseball field that I’m pretty sure Dennis never looked out of because the guy just hated baseball. Hating baseball? You’re a sports writer? “Boring.”

I’m not sure when or how Dennis and I first became friends. His version was that long ago I said something snarky in a faculty meeting when we all were arguing about the curriculum, primarily Great Books. Apparently I said that maybe we ought to lower our expectations and just shoot for Good Books. After that, I began my almost daily treks across the street to hang out at his office overlooking left field. One day I saw a bunch of Chip Hilton books on his desk. “I’m working on something.” A book? “Yep.” Chip Hilton stories were all I read as a kid. Biggie, Soapy, Speed, Fireball, all of them, and Dennis is writing a book about these guys? And the guy who wrote all of it? Clair Bee. I was hooked.

Soon after Ed Sims, a longtime SLA member and a good friend of both of ours, died Dennis asked if I wanted to take Ed’s place and go with him to Williamsport for the SLA meeting. We agreed to meet in Milford, PA and that I’d follow him to the conference. I think I was trying to show off, and asked him if he he’d ever heard of Charles Sanders Peirce (and that’s the correct spelling) and he said, “Sure, lived right on Route 209.” First of all, outside of dilettantes (me) who fancy themselves smart in areas not their own, who the hell has heard of Peirce? But Dennis knew all about the guy. Then again Dennis knew everyone who ever lived in Pennsylvania, which seemed to be the case once we got into Williamsport and took a walk downtown. How is it possible for you to know all these people? “I was a sports writer. Covered a lot of territory.” And so it goes. Dennis knew a lot of people and Dennis knew a lot of things because Dennis paid attention to people and people wanted to tell him stories. He was also wicked smart.

I think he and I went to four or five SLA meetings together. I was his underling when we had one at Springfield College a few years ago. He was a breeze to work with and came up with my all-time favorite SLA t-shirt — the one with old time footballers running out of the SC Triangle. But my most favorite SLA meeting was the one at East Tennessee. We drove from Springfield to Johnson City, twelve hours nonstop, and just shy of 800 miles. Dennis was close to having a cataract surgery on his left eye, and I was in the midst of a long struggle with double vision in my right eye, so between us we had two good working eyes. Fortunately I could see one way and he could see the other. “We only need two eyes, right?” Right. We laughed all day. It was one hell of a trip.

Then there was Bob, the Religion and Philosophy professor at SC. Bob had some friends but not many. Dennis was one of them. When Bob retired seven or eight years ago he sort of slinked away to his house about an hour and a half south of Dennis’ house. It would have been easy to do what nearly everyone does when someone retires: think about them for awhile, wonder how they are, think “I really ought to call,” put it off, and lose touch completely. Which is what almost happened to Bob except that Dennis was his friend. As Bob was slowly slipping into the abyss of dementia, Dennis would regularly organize a lunch with Bob and his wife and he and three or four of us would gather, eat, drink a beer or two, tell the same stories about work, and do it all over again the next month. That’s a good thing you do with Bob, I’d say. “Aw … you want another beer?”

This past fall, the Sports Journalism Program at Springfield College held an anniversary celebration, something like 20 years or so. It was an all day affair that finished with a tribute to Dennis. Students from over the years wrote and told stories about him. And of course Dennis wasn’t there. “Nah. I hate that stuff.” I went. Kid after kid, some more recent, some from years before, spoke about what a hell of a good teacher he was, what a slyly funny man he was, what a smart man he was, how he touched their lives with a single comment, how he supported the underdog, how he made a difference. I wished Dennis could have seen it. I’m glad I did. I miss him. He was my friend. I’m glad he was.

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Comments from others:

That is very sad to hear!  What a gentleman he was! Phil Wedge

My heart hurts. Terrible, terrible news. Hugs to you all. Angie Abdou

Joyce Duncan
Dr. Joyce Duncan
Faculty, ETSU, Ret.
Managing Editor, Sport Literature Association
Box 70270 ETSU, Johnson City, TN 37614
423-202-0937
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