The Mountaineer, 1956

A Word Portrait of Edmond S. Meany

by LYDIA LOVERING FORSYTH

FROM 1908 UNTIL 1935, Edmond Stephen Meany was president of The Mountaineers. Though we felt that he was ours exclusively, we had to share him with the University of Washington where he was a favorite professor, “ideal alumnus” and the acknowledged keeper of the traditions of that great institution.

We in the club never thought of our membership simply as a convenience for taking part in its activities. To us it was a privilege and treasured as such. This was due to the type of man who was our leader.

This sketch will attempt to reveal to members who never knew him the exceptional personality of Dr. Meany. We hope, too, to those who knew him and were his Mountaineer companions, it may recall happy memories of their association with him.

Too great a task for any one person! So through telephone calls, personal chats and written replies from old-timers to a plea for some treasured memory, this delineation has been woven. Though few quotation marks have been used, the entire account could well be enclosed in “quotes.”

President Meany was tall and trim of figure and carried his red head proudly. On the trail he wore a corduroy suit, high boots and wide-brimmed ranger style felt hat. At campfires he stood erect; the straight trees behind him; the light of the fire upon him-a symbol of the best in mountaineering.

Though he seemed sparely built he was a man of magnificent physique, having the muscles of a blacksmith, reports one Mountaineer who at Hannegan Pass rejoiced with him under a waterfall. Professor Meany stood like a rock taking the full force of the downpour upon his shoulders and his shouts of joy awakened the echoes.

His friendliness! A volume could be written upon that. It was so utterly sincere and natural, as this incident will reveal. A rather austere climber making her first Mountaineer trip reached the station early. As she sat alone, a tall handsome red-headed stranger came up to her and said, “I see you are one of us.” From that moment she felt and knew that she was. Recalling his friendliness later she said, “I can see why you all love him.’

The first thing that one newcomer noted when coming into the club was the atmosphere of camaraderie mingled with deference in our association with Professor Meany. As one old-timer expressed it:

“I was about 20-a kid you might say. I just went along on the local walks; called everyone else by the first name but not Professor Meany. He was very human and likable - everyone liked him. He was helpful but no taskmaster. I liked the way he conducted a meeting. To make a point he would drop in the telling of some incident, carrying on til he felt you had the point and then “chop it off” with a chuckle. When I went into service in the first World War, I felt I wouldn’t need my membership so dropped it. A while after my return, Professor Meany wrote me a letter asking me to rejoin. I felt if it seemed that important to him, it meant a lot to me to be a member. That was perhaps a small matter; but the things he did touched us. We appreciated his guidance. He was a man of compassion.”

He was indeed. Walking along his paper route one night was a discouraged little boy. Collections had been difficult; his was an attitude of complete discouragement. Just then he was met by such a friendly stranger who at a glance had sensed the youngsters dejection and so stopped for a chat with him. The boy was so deeply impressed that he raced home to tell of it and from his description of the man his father said, “That must have been Professor Meany.” Yes, Professor Meany who when himself a stripling had earned his way through school delivering the morning paper.

He was a man who enjoyed the limelight and yet was unusually shy and withdrawn. His was a benign and brooding presence, lending dignity to any occasion at which he presided whether a general meeting, a banquet or a campfire. He was always gracious and infallibly kind.

Professor Meany stood out as a Christian. He was full of fun and had a fine sense of humor, but his duty to his Maker stood above all.

His ready wit was such that he could even joke about real torment as when at Garibaldi he remarked that the only way to have more mosquitoes would be to make ‘em smaller.

Photo from vol 4, 1911

And he appreciated an artless plot and chuckled heartily when such a conspiracy developed toward the close of one outing. In order to keep an eastern starveling from being always first in grub line, it was arranged at one meal that the line be reversed and “the first shall be last” became order of the day.

Best of all, he enjoyed a joke on himself. On the 1920 Olympic outing the party was making the return trip down the Quinault River (“sitting in water” as one old-timer expressed it in canoes paddled by Indians. Always ready to exhibit his knowledge of their tongue, Professor Meany hailed a canoe carrying some Indians coming upstream and in his best Chinook asked how many of our canoes they had met. In the best of English came back the reply, “Oh, about half a dozen.” On another occasion while watching an Indian ceremonial, Professor Meany in his best jargon asked an Indian chap standing near the meaning of it all. Imagine his delight when back came the answer, “Purely psychological.”

Our President was an idealist–not too practical at times. Trustworthy himself, he trusted others utterly. When it was first suggested in a board meeting that the treasurer’s books be audited, he was against it saying that he trusted us to do what is right. It was the treasurer himself that induced him to give in to the audit.

One Mountaineer who served as secretary for a number of years recalls how Professor Meany couldn’t bear to seem unappreciative of any effort; so after a rambling or pointless committee report he would always say, “Reporting progress.”

He was fair. He would let members have their say, then pleasantly and deftly take a hand and bring matters to a head.

Professor Meany had utter devotion to the club and his loyalty to it was such that he wished everything to be just right. He set high standards and we felt it a privilege to maintain them. “Leave a campsite better than you found it” was always rule of the day. His influence was so strong that he bound us together.

Such was his loyalty to the club and his pride in it that he resented anything of a critical nature being said of it. Although, as one old-timer expressed it, he had the faculty of not taking sides in any controversy in the club, in one board meeting for once he really bristled and showed ire when one of the more recent members voiced criticism of an experienced outing leader.

One busy Mountaineer served as club treasurer for a number of years out of high regard for Professor Meany. She felt in a way that he was “out of this world.” Nor was she alone in this regard. Such respect was felt for the high plane upon which he lived that his influence upon the members was strong enough to deter them from any practices that he considered wrong. His impact upon Mountaineers is unique and precious. He established standards of mountaineering ethics that have left a lasting imprint upon our organization-a priceless legacy. He gave so much dignity and prestige to the club that he made it outstanding in the nation. We have grown and advanced but Professor Meany’s influence persists. His standards come bubbling up in all our activities.

On Summer Outings, that 30-pound limit on dunnage has surely been a major problem! We learned that Professor Meany’s bag was always light; thus at weighing-in time, one member never hesitated to slip overweight articles into his dunnage. Upon reaching camp, he was never disturbed by what might pop from the top of his bag. Light as it was, his duffle always contained a box of cigars rationed to last out the trip. On the 1909 Outing, he had hiked to Moraine Park there to spend the day with pencil and pad. In his pocket was his daily quota of cigars. Discovered later by another hiker, Professor Meany expressed his appreciation of the spot by suggesting that the whole box be sent up to him there.

Usually our President’s little A-tent was pitched on a knoll a bit to itself, but you were always welcome to come to him there. One member’s most vivid memory of him is sitting on the ground in front of that tent-ranger hat upon his head and knee up with a writing pad upon it.

Another pictures Professor Meany at the end of the 1913 outing standing erect upon a huge weather-beaten log on the beach at Tahola. With him was the chief of the Quinault Indians who had just accepted him into the tribe as “Chief Three Knives.”

Many remembered Professor Meany most clearly at campfires in mountain meadows. There he was truly in his element and at his best. So fond of people, so sympathetic and friendly, he was a natural-born historian and story teller, ever enriching our appreciation of the locale by recounting its history and legends.

As a trail comrade our President was without peer. He loved every flower, shrub and tree and shared his information in regard to them. One Mountaineer recalls when he first identi-fed for her “Pinus Montacola,” the pine that is our Mountaineer emblem, telling her that the name signified “home in the mountains.” Then she added, “He always took time to be kind.”

To Professor Meany the little hairbell was as important as the glacier beyond. He spoke of the alpine fir as “standing with upturned fingers.” He had high regard for all beautiful things and took pleasure in expressing his appreciation. At day’s end he often shared his impressions in the form of a poem. Autographed copies, sometimes dedicated to the recipient, are precious mementos of many of us. “Peak-grabbers” who never had a day with Professor Meany on meadow trails missed more than they know.

His all-embracing love for The Mountaineers was expressed in his reply to a former Annual editor who had asked permission to publish certain of his poems. “Use whatever you wish. The Mountaineers can have anything I possess in that or almost any other line.”

It was Professor Meany who initiated the still-followed custom of remembering some of the ones absent from a Summer Outing by sending to them a “round robin” with the signatures of all those present. It is a treasured practice-only one of the many he originated. It was his idea to have each summer a ceremony honoring those who have made the climb of Washington’s Six Major Peaks. A very few have twice became “Six Peakers.” On the first occasion upon which this occurred, he awarded them a special degree of “M.A.,” “Master of Altitude.”

One visitor from another mountain club on a Summer Outing with us decided that The Mountaineers were unique. She felt that we had qualities that other clubs just did not have. She concluded that this was due to Professor Meany’s leadership. She was profoundly moved by the impact of his personality.

Carefully for each summer’s trip he selected his “Dean of Women,’ as we called her, to handle the girl problems so that their health would in no way be endangered; and honored indeed did that person feel to have been so chosen by him.

How he loved to give-the gift of himself to us being his greatest contribution. Members, who with him first made the climb of the mountain that bears his name, were surprised later when each received a token from him. Quietly he had collected bits of rock from the summit of Mount Meany and had stick pins made for all the climbers.

On one of the outings, one member found upon her sleeping bag where it had been placed by Professor Meany his poem, “The Alpine Fingers.” It was framed with alpine fir and backed by the lid from his cigar box. It is still among her keepsakes.

Another cherishes the big bandana that he brought to her from Victoria. When the party would be forming for a trial climb she liked to slip into line just in front of him for she was sure that Professor Meany’s welcoming hands would rest for a moment upon her shoulders as he gave her cheery words of greeting.

Two Mountaineers confessed to feeling of regret. One told of having served on a committee that made investigation for Professor Meany in a conservation project. After very careful study their report had to be at variance with his belief when the study was undertaken. Though the construction which followed bore out the truth of the committee’s findings, this Mountaineer has always had a feeling of guilt in the matter.

Another conscientious member, who had experienced a harrowing crisis in her life and felt that she could not accept the assignment which Professor Meany had requested her to undertake, ever afterward had a similar feeling of guilt.

We old-timers treasure especially the memory of Professor Meany’s Sunday services on Summer Outings. A special beauty spot was selected and, in early years, each Mountaineer appeared in best camp attire with special bandana at neck or belt. (In later years when sunrise was chosen as time for the Sunday gathering, not so much attention was given to individual apparel.) All was serene with only the shrill whistle of the marmot to break the mountain calm.

"From the lofty psalms of David,
From his deep heart's inspiration,
Edmond Meany stood before us
Like a patriarch of old.
Heather Bells rang tiny matins;
White-robed choirs of alpine lilies
Led our praises to the Maker
Of the mountains and the seas.
Far away the falling waters
Spoke the largess of God's bounty.
Edmond Meany, we remember
You and mornings such as these."

Meany Hall at the University of Washington, Meany Junior High School, Hotel Edmond Meany! Yet as one Mountaineer expressed it, “There is nothing yet devised sufficiently worthy to perpetuate his memory.” But we can enshrine him in our hearts; we can pass on to others the record of his simple greatness.

From one who for many years worked intimately with our President comes this summation: “Edmond S. Meany was a leader in the truest sense-his capacity for leadership measured not by his being at the head of the line, but rather by his ability to analyze suggestions from others; to differentiate, accepting what would benefit not himself, but the Mountaineers, the community and the nation. He was a man of broad vision. Never did he attempt to dominate the club. He relied upon the trustees and officers to effect and supervise policies and activities under his supervision and guidance. Qualities felt at all times were friendship and understanding inherent in the man.” And what was this old-timer’s treasured memory? Edmond Meany standing on the summit of his very own mountain!

What outstanding memories of his father are recalled by his Mountaineer son? From early childhood our President wished his son to become a Mountaineer. The son, stimulated by hearing letters from romantic places like “Indian Henry’s Hunting Grounds” (enclosing always a sprig of heather or Indian paint brush) grew up with the same idea.

After Summer Outings what a scramble there was to open the dunnage bag with its rich, horsey odor; to unroll the sleeping bag; to discover the cigar box which, along with its candle stubs and caulking tools, always contained bits of bittersweet chocolate, nuts and raisins hoarded for him from trail lunches. And then the tent, the “White House,” was set up in the back yard and there for a night (or part of one) the embryo Mountaineer slept “just like in the mountains.” After an apprenticeship in scouting, he was given his life membership by his father and there followed memorable years of close companionship. When in later years he chose a bride, his father’s approval was enhanced by the fact she, too, was a Mountaineer.

And how does the son evaluate his father’s chief characteristics? First would come the emphasis he placed upon friendship. So often his father would remark that no matter what a man’s circumstances, his only real treasure is in his friendships. To a man with friends, all the formal honors that come to him during his lifetime are fine things because they reflect friendship. A name given to a mountain or a building; an honorary degree; a standing ovation; a title of “Ideal Alumnus”- he considered these but the bonuses of friendship.

Innumerable friends in city, state and nation but not one of the “back-slapping” variety! Stories shared in small groups of men embarrassed him. Few other than contemporary relatives called him “Ed.”

The second remembered characteristic of his father, and one closely associated with friendship, was a quality never observed to the same degree in another. He was a man of such deep feelings and was so true to his Irish background that when deeply moved it was hard for him to conceal emotion. The temper of a red-head was usually well under control; but when moved by sorrow, joy or affection, it was difficult to keep from revealing it, for there was tremor in his voice and tears would well in his eyes. Although this departed from the usual code of manliness, no one thought him less a man because of it.

On the 1922 outing when the party was completing the trip from Mount Adams to Mount St. Helens, a wrong turn was made at one point. This necessitated an 11-mile backtrack. Though early start had been made, not too many made camp that night but bivouaced where darkness overtook them. But Professor Meany was one of those who did get in, having covered 32 miles that day.

His pepper-and-salt colored corduroy suit, high boots and felt hat surely gave him good mileage, but he was a model of neatness. He accounted for the crease in his trousers by saying that he always slept with them folded under his sleeping bag. The longevity of the boots he jokingly said was because when they became worn he would get them resoled and then next time have the resoles retopped. In those days we all wore high boots and many of them were made to our order.

Professor Meany in his prime was a fine climber and he never tired on the trail. He made the ascents of the Six Major Peaks. He was such a good sport. His sixth major, Mount Baker, was made with a small party. Due to a late start the descent became involved by the loss of trail in the dark. It was so cold that the party had to huddle, making of their bodies a human stove while the trail was being found, but there was not a murmur of complaint from our President.

The last actual climb that he made was that of Mount Eleanor in 1929. At campfire the night previously he had given one of his characteristic talks on the history of the locality and had told the recently revealed story of the naming of the Olympic peaks that are seen from Seattle. On the descent of Mount Eleanor, a painful tendon made him lag a good bit. Among the numerous climbers, five sensed his difficulty and made excuse of being tired in order to keep his pace, but he wasn’t fooled.

Later that same month he met with an automobile accident in a fog and from then on always carried a cane. So he was apt to tap a remembered Mount Eleanor companion the shin with his stick and say, “You were one of the five who came down the mountain with me, weren’t you?”

The 1933 Olympic outing was Professor Meany’s 25th year as president. To commemorate that silver anniversary, resourceful members of the outing fabricated a fair replica of a loving cup. Starting with a tin cup, base was made of wood and tin; wire handles were attached and all was covered with tinfoil hoarded for that purpose. In addition, somebody had a quarter minted in 1908, his first year. This was polished and put in a small bag made of mosquito netting. Presentation of these offerings was made to him at the last campfire of the outing.

Ever ready with an apt story to illustrate his point, in his acceptance speech Professor Meany recalled an occasion when fellow citizens of Calvin Coolidge sought to do him honor. They gave him an ax as a symbol of his staunchness. Taking the tool appraisingly in his hands, he made the shortest acceptance speech on record. He remarked, “Ash.’ But that loving cup and the quarter were cherished by him as appreciatively as though the cup had indeed been made of silver and the twenty-five cents had been as many dollars. Thereafter both had a place of honor in his office.

He was so universally admired by his students at the University of Washington, as well as by Mountaineers, that one year they agreed to give him a car; but it was decided that only small amounts be accepted. When the car was presented, in it was a box containing greeting cards from each of the givers. It was told later that Professor Meany really cherished the contents of the box more than the car and never tired of reading the messages that it contained.

When granted his doctorate at the College of Puget Sound, so great was their admiration for him that members of the student body presented to him his doctor’s hood.

In his later years, through small contributions, Professor Meany was given life membership in The Mountaineers. Immediately thereafter, he purchased a life membership for his Mountaineer son, Edmond S. Meany Jr.

Never would he accept free tickets to any Mountaineer activity. Even when he was honor guest at Hotel Edmond Meany, at the banquet celebrating his twenty-first year as president, he would not accept two free tickets without himself immediately buying two for his daughter Margaret and husband.

Dr. Meany was known and respected throughout the nation as outstanding Northwest historian, conservationist and Mountaineer club president. One member confided that she was in the East when prominent newspapers carried the news of his passing. Though close association with him had been on but one outing, she burst into tears when she learned that he was gone.

Most precious and abiding are the memories of campfires with Professor Meany. He stood majestically before us. From that photographic memory of his flowed the legends that delighted us and portions of history that were pertinent to the time and the place. His delivery was dramatic but so sincere that it did not seem overdone. The ending of his special part of the program became a ritual.

Our President’s choice of a closing hymn, the second stanza of “Nearer My God To Thee” seemed to have been written especially for each Mountaineer, as we stood in the flickering light of the fire and sang with him:

"Though like the wanderer,
The sun gone down Darkness be over me,
My rest a stone;
Yet in my dreams I'd be
Nearer my God, to thee,
Nearer my God, to thee
Nearer to thee."

Immediately would follow the “Good Night Song.” This did not mean the end of campfire activities-only the conclusion of Professor Meany’s part of the program:

"Good night, we must part:
God keep watch o'er us all where we go,,
Till we meet once again, good night!"

Then that beloved comrade stepped from the circle of light into the darkness beyond.

Listen! You will hear a never-to-be-forgotten voice calling, “Good night!”