In Memoriam: M. Dennis Jackson
Photos courtesy of Linda Russell June 04, 2024
Alumni remember longtime journalism professor, a man who 鈥榗hanges the arc of who you are and can be鈥
M. Dennis Jackson, retired professor of English and journalism who helped countless students discover their passion and purpose, died on Friday, May 10, 2024, from complications related to pneumonia. He was 78.聽
Known for his boundless enthusiasm and constant encouragement, Dr. Jackson worked at 91原创 from 1978 to 2007, serving as journalism program director from 1995 to 2003 and longtime advisor to the student newspaper, The Review. He once relocated his office to the paper鈥檚 headquarters to be closer to the action.
Dr. Jackson believed that 鈥測ou learn journalism by doing journalism鈥 and would leave full critiques of each edition for the student reporters, often with notes as thick as the paper itself.聽
He taught the power of persistence and quoted the poet Gerard Manley Hopkins: 鈥渟heer plod makes plough down sillion shine.鈥 Dr. Jackson considered the description of rough earth transforming into something polished and beautiful an apt metaphor for writing. As he explained in his 2002 book with John Sweeny, The Journalist鈥檚 Craft: A Guide to Writing Better Stories: 鈥淧ractice. Write. Analyze. Revise. More practice. More writing 鈥 until the words do indeed begin to shine.鈥澛
Or sing. That he learned from his former sports editor, Wayne Thompson, who鈥檇 hand some of his stories back with a critical observation, 鈥淛ackson, this [expletive] doesn鈥檛 sing.鈥澛
鈥淎nd then I was left, as a 19-year-old novice sportswriter, to go back to my newsroom聽desk and figure out for myself WHY the [expletive] didn't sing, or WHERE it sang and then stopped singing, or WHERE it suddenly went from [expletive] to singing, etc.,鈥 he recalled in an email in 2021.聽鈥淚 guess I did learn a lot, in those early days, having to discover for myself where my prose 鈥榮ang鈥 and where it just gargled.鈥澛 聽聽
With his ballpoint pen and southern twang, Dr. Jackson offered the same honest feedback to his students. He circled 鈥渢o be鈥 verbs on their stories, motivating them to seek stronger action words.聽
鈥淥n my first assignment, he ripped my work pretty darn good, but there was something about the way he did it that just made it click,鈥 remembered Ted Spiker, a 1990 alumnus who now chairs the journalism program at the University of Florida. 鈥淗e told inspiring stories about alumni and did it with a cocktail that was part charming, part sinister and always entertaining. There will never be another Dr. J.鈥澛
Dr. Jackson taught 91原创鈥檚 first sports writing class [English 367], according to Andy West, Class of 1986. 鈥淗is feedback made the greatest impression on me 鈥 perhaps that鈥檚 why the E367 folder has remained in my filing cabinet for 40 years. He pushed me to do better work. He pushed us all to do better work. His care went beyond the classroom.鈥
鈥淗is biggest topic of conversation was students, current and former,鈥 said colleague and retired journalism professor Ben Yagoda. 鈥淭o Dennis, they were rockstars.鈥
鈥淗e made 10 years of student loan payments worth every penny,鈥 said Paul Davies, a 1986 graduate and co-author of Dr. Jackson鈥檚 decades-long, unfinished biography of journalist .听听
鈥淚 came to 91原创 with no idea of what I wanted to do. Then I walked into E307 [Introduction to Journalism], and he changed my life. The way he talked about the field lit up all these lights in my head,鈥 said Davies, now an editorial writer at The Philadelphia Inquirer. 鈥淛ournalism鈥檚 tough, and it鈥檚 gotten tougher. But he kept you inspired.鈥澛犅
鈥淗is infectiously upbeat attitude sustained many weary students over the years,鈥 added Eric Ruth, Class of 1993. 鈥淗e was kind enough to invite me to his house to meet a semi-famous novelist [Richard Price], which did wonders for my sense of excitement.鈥澛
鈥淗e was on call for his students, 24/7,鈥 said 1996 alumnus Devin Harner, who recalls their hours-long conversations. Legend has it that Dr. Jackson once met a student for breakfast, and the two remained chatting at the restaurant through lunch and dinner.聽
鈥淗e was more than a mentor; he was a constant guide and sounding board,鈥 said 1995 alumnus Mark Nardone. 鈥淗is letters of recommendation were unbelievable. It didn鈥檛 matter how many times he was asked. He always wrote something professional and heartfelt.鈥澛
Dr. Jackson had a 鈥渟uperpower to see each person鈥檚 talents and interests,鈥 said Lina Hashem, Class of 2000. She recalls applying for an internship for minority students at a newspaper that questioned her religion. As one of few Muslim women in the field, she 鈥渇elt like one,鈥 but it was Dr. Jackson who advocated on her behalf, helping her secure the job. 鈥淗e never imposed his opinions on other people鈥檚 lived experiences,鈥 she said. 鈥淗e listened and lifted you up wherever you were.鈥澛犅
鈥淗e provided a voice of affirmation,鈥 said Rich Jones, a 1993 graduate and managing editor for The Philadelphia Inquirer鈥檚 opinion section. 鈥淲hen you come from a low-income background and are one of the few African American students in the class, you can feel like you don鈥檛 fit in. He made me feel like I belonged. Like I had talent. He was someone who changes the arc of who you are and what you can be.鈥
Heather Hansen, Class of 1996, transferred to 91原创 after her sister鈥檚 unexpected death. 鈥淒r. J found me in a place where I was lost and rudderless, and he taught me my purpose,鈥 she said.
Dr. Jackson saved his students鈥 classwork long after they graduated and followed each one鈥檚 career. He bought all their published works, adding to his envious collection of 10,000-plus books.听听
鈥淲e lost touch,鈥 said Laura Carney, Class of 2003. 鈥淎nd yet there he was, first in line to leave an Amazon review of my book the day after it came out. He mocked my 13-page acknowledgments (hilarious given his verbosity), then said he predicted a best-seller. I can't put into words what this meant to me, his vote of confidence after so many years.鈥
Fellow Professor Kevin Kerrane remembers an argument he once had with Dr. Jackson for referring to his students as kids. 鈥淚 said, 鈥楾hey are young adults preparing for a serious profession.鈥 Dennis said, 鈥業 know, I know,鈥 and I realized that he was just a big kid himself. He had that kind of overflowing energy.鈥
Dr. Jackson鈥檚 wife, Anne Whitney, agreed, adding that 鈥渉e loved whimsy and was delighted by things.鈥 Their home included a massive toy collection: Santas in hula skirts, a dog dressed as Elvis, singing chihuahuas.聽
But his true love was his students. With no biological children of his own, she said, they were 鈥渉is kids, his family.鈥
About Dennis Jackson
Marvin Dennis Jackson was born on June 30, 1945, in Jackson, Mississippi, to Roy Dennis and Margie Emma (Cade) Jackson.聽
A top math student in high school, he switched his interests to literature at Belhaven College under the guidance of his favorite professor, Bill Durrett, eventually earning master鈥檚 and doctoral degrees in English from the University of Arkansas.听听
From 1979-1986, he served as secretary, treasurer and president of the D.H. Lawrence Society of North America, where he received the Harry T. Moore Distinguished Scholar Award for Lifetime Achievement in D.H. Lawrence Studies. He also served as Jeopardy!鈥檚 resident expert on the English novelist.
Dr. Jackson鈥檚 awards included the National Teaching Award from the Poynter Institute and an award for Excellence in the Teaching of Writing and Editing from the Modern Media Institute and American Society of Newspaper Editors.
He spent decades working to convey the significance of Charles Sumner Stone Jr., with two bedrooms, four closets and 17 file cabinets full of documents on the Tuskegee Airman, inaugural president of the National Association of Black Journalists (of which Dr. Jackson became a member), journalist and late 91原创 professor.聽
Friend and alumnus Paul Davies, co-author of the unfinished biography, called Dr. Jackson 鈥渁 true academic, always chasing one more file or detail.鈥
After retiring, he聽married artist Anne Whitney and moved to Vero Beach, Florida, where they lived with their beloved pets, Tigger, the Pomeranian dog, and cats Popcorn, Maggie and Ekaterina (named after the Russian ice skater; known as Katie, for short).聽 聽
鈥淗e missed Delaware, missed his friends and missed the seasons,鈥 said longtime friend and former assistant to the chair of the English department Linda Russell, who would often sit with a notebook and pen to keep track of Dr. Jackson鈥檚 many stories 鈥 including his brief stint as an Arkansas circuit minister.
She can still picture his tattoo, a phoenix on his bicep, a reminder of the many illnesses he overcame: chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, pulmonary fibrosis, open-heart surgery.聽
His final hours were spent in hospice, in a beautiful room with a private garden, screened-in porch and French doors that opened to bushes filled with butterflies and chirping birds.聽
Though his last words are unknown, friends and alumni may like to imagine they were among his most used: 鈥淥kay, I鈥檒l let you go. I just have to tell you one more thing.鈥澛
can be made by searching for the journalism program and noting his name in the special instruction box.聽
A celebration of Dr. Jackson鈥檚 life will be held on his birthday, June 30, at 12 p.m. in Memorial Hall, with a less formal gathering off campus to follow. More details will be shared on The Review alumni Facebook page or by contacting Devin Harner at dharner@jjay.cuny.edu.
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