Authored by:
Mike "Spanky" McCallister
Email: mike@grantstreetservices.com
SRAI Board of Directors Meeting, 2005
From right to left: J. Terence "Terry" Manns, SRAI Secretary; Mike "Spanky" McCallister, SRAI President; Dorothy Yates, SRAI President Elect; Michael Owens, SRAI Past President
J. Terence "Terry" Manns, a fond remembrance.
It’s hard anytime one loses a friend. It creates a hole in one’s universe, a place that is full of echoes and memories. We all lost a friend with Terry Manns’ passingin October. Our unassuming colleague left a particularly massive hole because with Terry we lost more than a friend, we lost a part of our soul. John Terence (role model, “That’s the way my Mother spelled it.”) “Terry” (ditto) Manns was my dear friend, my mentor, and, although I’m sure it does not show, my role model.
Let me tell you how we became friends and colleagues. I had been living the gypsy life of a grants wrangler for about 10 years when I discovered research administration, which I did not know existed and the job paid every month. Eventually I talked my way into a Director’s job at a small school and immediately started going to every professional meeting I could find so I could learn what I was supposed to be doing. I joined SRAI, NCURA, what was then the Office of Federal Programs in the Association of American State Colleges and Universities and I kept seeing this guy from Sacramento State at every meeting. He was so polite and courtly, always had time to talk and was one of the best storytellers I had ever met. We got to be fast friends almost immediately. He was extremely experienced, knew everybody and he had time for a complete novice. This was a hallmark of Terry—he was here to help anyone who wanted to learn and grow and tell really long stories.
I have several anecdotes from the early days of our friendship, but this one just jumped to mind. We were at a fancy reception for the Office of Federal Programs in Washington at some historic building and there was fancy catered food, an open bar (always a mistake), spiffiness abounded. I am standing at the periphery of a gaggle of vice presidents and deans somewhat near Terry when I noticed that the bar was closing. So I commenced picking up cold beers and dropping them in the pockets of my suit coat. Back then we dressed up for this stuff, you know. Once I had about four beers stored on my person I handed one to Terry and showed him what I’d done. He elbowed the vice president next to him, showed him what we were doing and started passing beers through the group. Before I knew it there were about a dozen guys each holding a beer with four more in their pockets. We sloshed our way back to the hotel laughing and talking like a bunch of teenagers who had put one over on the school principal.
Another conference, another reception, a table ringed by Terry, me, Phil Myers, Bob Schultze, and several other talkers in a round robin of one wonderful tall tale after another. And after awhile we looked up and the room was empty, most of the tables were folded up, the staff, particularly the bartender, were GLARING at us. Our party had gone on a lot longer than the real party, by hours.
Terry was the secretary of the Society for many years. As a mutual colleague said, he was the master of Roberts Rules of Order and he rode herd on several rowdy Boards and annual business meetings. I can still hear him during voting saying “and the ayes are above the noes. The ayes have it.” He was a master of decorum and a leader who did not need the limelight. He wrote for the Journal, presented many times at conferences, and was an innovator in his programming at his home campus. He was in so many ways what most of us would like to grow up to be some day. I was lucky to be his friend. I was lucky to hear that sonorous voice telling those old tall tales. He was elegant without effort, he knew himself thoroughly, his public self was honest and forthright, his private self was absolutely his own.
After Terry retired, I called once or twice a year. Enough to see how he was doing, little enough to not be a pest. This time I waited a month too long. Remember I said we lost a part of our soul? I believe that because he was always contributing to moving all of us forward with no need for recognition, just the joy of seeing his contributions have effect. He loved meeting new people, starting new programs, and standing back to give new folks a chance to become leaders. I will miss that voice and the ideas that would come from long talks. I will miss how he helped me grow. I can not do him justice if you never met him, I can not tell other folks’ stories and be genuine. If you knew my friend Terry, you know why I used the word “soul,” and how big that hole is that he left within our midst.
#Membership