In MemoriamâGarry Fagan
Staff and students of the Department of Classics at Trinity College Dublin in the early 1980s will remember Garry Fagan well. He studied Ancient History and Archaeology with Biblical Studies, âmajoringâ with us in Classics and graduating in 1985. People will remember him because he would be very difficult to forget, being one of the liveliest and most enjoyable people you could meet. Right from the beginning he was a clever and enthusiastic student, always producing excellent work, always wanting to talk, and never lacking confidence, in the classroom or anywhere else. My colleague Roger Wilson, who was a Junior Dean at the time (one of those in charge of student discipline) will recall, Iâm sure, a pleasant summerâs evening when we were taking a stroll in College Park, only to find Garry happily smoking a joint. His offer to share it with us was perhaps not, tactically, the best move, but it does demonstrate how delightfully unworried Garry was about life. I donât think the smart or chic things of the world ever held much attraction for him: judging from some of his non-academic adventures both in Dublin and in North Carolina that he recounted to me, it was clear that not all his leisure time was spent in entirely respectable venues. He undoubtedly inherited his sense of fun from his parents. Roger will remember another evening when, as Garryâs instructors in Ancient History and Archaeology, we were invited out to his parentsâ house for dinner. Cecil and Maire immediately dispelled any worries about formality, entertaining us with delightful and limitless hospitality.
After his undergraduate degree Garry did an M.Litt. with me, the first research student I had. The M.Litt., although rarely taken now, was a good way of honing skills before deciding whether you wanted the extra commitment of doctoral work. Garry used it to improve his Greek, and wrote an excellent, if conservative, thesis on the succession in the early Roman imperial period. I had thoughts on the subject; and Garry developed further ideas, which he worked on later in his scholarly career. Although academic jobs were hard to come by at the time, he was determined to do a PhD, and it seemed to me that North America was right for him. Wisely, he was more interested in potential teachers rather than universities. I canât remember whether it was good luck or careful planning that had him knocking on Richard Talbertâs door at McMaster, but I do remember telling him that he could not find a better mentor and academic guide. I wonât repeat all the details, well documented elsewhere, of his already distinguished academic career, but I would want to emphasize what a fine social historian he became: both his main studies, on bathing and on the arena, were works of top class scholarship. And in the matter of outreach, beyond the university, he had built a formidable reputation. I always believed he would be an outstanding teacher, and his colleagues have confirmed my expectations many times over. As for his lecturing skills, anyone who went to his lecture in University College Dublin in 2016 witnessed a superb scholarly performance, beautifully weighted and illustrated. Indeed Iâm embarrassed that I failed to get him to talk at Trinity, although it was my intention to book him on one of his visits back home, when we used to catch up over a Guinness or two (approximately).
I was, like everyone else who knew him, shocked when he sent me an email to say that he had pancreatic cancer, and had little time left. He did want to come home one more time, and astonishingly, given the advanced state of his illness, managed to do so. I went to visit him on February 6 at his brother Markâs house. He was clearly a man whose race was coming to an end, but he was delighted to chat for a couple of hours and talk about old times, old friends, and about the ancient world and scholarship. The spirit and sense of fun were still there, as always, and I was struck by his dignity and complete lack of self-pityâno immediate consolation, Iâm afraid, for his children and family, but perhaps something they will in time remember with pride. He went off next day for a blast of sea air in Galway. He was hoping to come back to Ireland again in the summer, and I was looking forward to meeting up again, as we agreed, but he died shortly after returning to the United States.
Brian McGing
Dublin, Ireland
May 2020
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To lose Garrett in his prime is cause for lasting grief that I share with family, friends, and colleagues worldwide. The very nature of our relationship made it unique and professionally close; it became lifelong. G was the first to gain the PhD under my direction, and then to succeed in making ancient history his career at university level. At the outset each of us was venturing into the unknown, learning new roles in an unfamiliar transatlantic environment, ambitiously taking new risks, and always trusting one another. He bravely placed his confidence in me; I strove to advance him by daring to propose a tough dissertation topic, but one with distinct potential (I sensed) to open up a revealing fresh dimension, and to form the basis of an influential first book. By chance, the first article in the first issue of the Journal of Roman Archaeology provided a key pointer: an overview of recent research on Roman baths which drew attention to remarkable neglect of the social, human side of their functioning. The author had no plans, she assured us, to pursue this aspect herself.
So here was Gâs opportunity. Himself the most social of humans, he seized it with vigor. To be sure, all did not then just proceed smoothly. At first, the vigor could be brash and the drafts unmethodical. Certain committee members bristled. With characteristic responsiveness, G committed himself to attaining a more rigorous standard, and won back their respect. My own move from Hamilton to Chapel Hill could hardly seem helpful, but it did bring G the offer of a year together at UNC. This experience subsequently encouraged him to spend a further year researching in Tübingen, Germany, during which he extended his exploration of Roman bath complexes in Europe. For all that this peripatetic development of the dissertation was disruptive, G benefited from tremendous stimulus everywhere he went. His mobility, enthusiasm and charm enabled him to engage with experts in plenty, many of whom became and remained his friends. Moreover, G was excited by the challenge of tackling his topic from the perspectives of both archaeology and history (tapping epigraphic sources in particular for the latter).
Once G secured a prestigious Killam postdoctoral fellowship in Canada again (the first ever held in UBCâs Classics department), the archaeologist and epigrapher James Russell who sponsored him there encouraged his expansion of the dissertation into Bathing in Public in the Roman World, published by University of Michigan Press. One index of its immediate impact was assignment of a full page by TLSâexceptional prominence for a first bookâand the choice of Keith Hopkins as reviewer, doyen of ancient social historians and notoriously hard to please. So, while disappointment was indeed Hopkinsâ initial reaction, there is cause for pride that he did then recognize the stream of interesting questions raised by the book. What frustrated Hopkins was the elusiveness of fully satisfying answers; but that level of expectation was unrealistic, as he was acutely aware in fact from his own vexed quest to probe ancient religious and social history afresh.
With G launched as visible scholar and author, my involvement in his projects thereafter was reduced. Not to persevere with a book prospectively entitled Successes, Failures and Mediocrities: Ahenobarbi and Pisones in an Age of Transition was a blow. But to enlarge his contribution to Roman social history in a quite different direction, again by exploiting interdisciplinary approaches, did hold greater promise. Hence Gâs enterprising use of social psychology led to his even more successful study The Lure of the Arena, published by Cambridge University Press. I remained glad to recommend him in the typical prolonged quest for positions, a quixotic and nerve-wracking struggle which he resolved would never daunt him. Once tenured, he liked to caution students with academic ambitions by brandishing a binder stuffed with 153 letters rejecting him. Even his initial hiring at PSU for a limited term was a lucky fluke, in that after applying he received no word from the search committee for several months, and in fact was not their choice. But by the time that G in desperation eventually risked calling to inquire, the chosen rival had just reneged on the offer originally accepted, and the committee was now feeling pressured late in the hiring season!
Years on, when the headship of the Classics department in the National University of Ireland, Galway was advertised, I supported Gâs carefully weighed inclination to return to the land of his origo (we discussed this complex dilemma at length). Here, without doubt, his charisma and dynamic leadership would have proven invaluable. But in the event such a nostos was not to be. Rather, North America gained increasingly from the continued growth of his potential. I admire G above all as the model and the inspiration that he became to others, especially to the many after him who were motivated to work with me in part because of his achievements. His substantial body of pathbreaking scholarship is innovatory. He was a passionate teacher, lecturer, and debater, with a flair for enlarging and deepening interest in the classical world at every level. A talented organizer too: the energy and creativity that G so selflessly devoted to the ancient fieldâs professional affairs are humbling. May I be forgiven for imagining that I played some small useful part in his training. That aside, the adviser is heartily thankful for everything learned thereafter from the pupil and, like all of us, badly misses his genial self.
Richard Talbert
Chapel Hill, NC
May 2020