This eulogy was given at a memorial service on February 6, 2020 on the campus of Virginia Wesleyan by President Scott Miller (WVWC Class of 1981) for his mentor, friend, and colleague.
Eulogy
Dr. Mortimer Williams Gamble V
As a university president, I give dozens of speeches each year before crowds of all sizes. These comments today are among the most difficult I’ve had to deliver as we mourn the passing and celebrate the life of our senior vice president, and my good friend of 43 years, Dr. Mort Gamble.
Mort passed away in Norfolk on Wednesday, January 29, 2020, at the age of 68, from complications resulting from a blood clot in his lungs.
Last fall, he drafted a self-biography to be included in an institutional publication. He provided two copies, one for the publication, and one with the note: “Someday this could be the basis for my obituary – keep it.”
So in his own words…
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Mortimer W. Gamble V was born in Cumberland, Maryland, on September 21, 1951. He grew up in Moorefield, West Virginia, near the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, and received his doctorate in higher education leadership from West Virginia University and his master’s and baccalaureate degrees in English, also from WVU.
His doctoral dissertation was a study of communication styles and strategies of a select group of college and university presidents, a topic that served him well as a vice president and later chief of staff and stewardship director to several presidents.
And he was especially proud when West Virginia University bestowed upon him their prestigious Alumni Achievement Award in 2018.
He began his career as a faculty member in English, humanities, and communication at West Virginia Wesleyan College, later joining the admissions and institutional advancement team before being appointed director of college relations. He later served at Fairmont State University, over a nine-year period, as director of development, vice president for institutional advancement and executive director of the Fairmont State Foundation, Inc.
Prior to his arrival at Virginia Wesleyan, his career also included vice presidencies in advancement at Waynesburg University and Hood College, as well as donor and gift stewardship at The George Washington University, and roles as executive assistant to the president and major-gifts officer at Bethany College.
Mort began leading Virginia Wesleyan’s Trinder Center for Advancement in 2016. As senior vice president, he oversaw fundraising, alumni and parent relations, government relations, church relations, business and corporations and planned giving, marketing and communications, and served as the president’s chief of staff. He was also an associate professor of communication at the University.
Mort had a lifelong passion for the circus, and even worked for two seasons as a crew member with “Circus Kirk,” a three-ring traveling big top show which appeared in the Eastern U.S. in the 1970s. He was a regular presenter on circus history, culture, and media exposure at national conferences, and is the author of book reviews, articles, essays, and features on circuses for regional and national publications. He contributed three chapters to the 2007 book “The Many Worlds of Circus,” edited by Robert Sugarman. And at the time of his passing, he was at work with Maureen Brunsdale of the Milner Library at Illinois State University on a book-length biography of trapeze artist and show manager Arthur M. Concello.
Locally, Mort served on the board of VOLUNTEER Hampton Roads, working to build the capacity of area non-profits, and he taught circus history for the Institute for Learning in Retirement, an educational organization for individuals 55 years of age and older.
He is survived by his wife, M.E. Gamble, his brother, David Cole Gamble.
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As you can tell, Mort had impressive academic credentials, an accomplished career, fulfilling volunteer service, and a fascinating hobby. But as with most obituaries, this just doesn’t say enough about the person Mort was. The son. The brother. The friend. The husband. The writer, teacher, mentor… The jokester. So now, in my own words, I’d like to tell you about my dear friend.
I first met Mort in the fall of 1977. I was a freshman at West Virginia Wesleyan College, and he was a young member of the English faculty. He was lanky and wore black horn- rimmed glasses.
He was the co-advisor of the weekly student newspaper, and I joined the staff as a sports and opinion page writer. We immediately hit it off—I became his “go to” guy at the paper.
By my sophomore year, he was the only advisor and I was the paper’s Editor-in-Chief. I served in that capacity for 21⁄2 years with Mort as the advisor that entire time. The staff would type articles on old manual typewriters, and Mort would edit in big letters with this flair-tipped red pen before sending on to the typesetter. You could interpret his feelings and his opinion of the article’s quality by the size and inflection of his handwriting.
The paper won a number of national recognitions and awards, but not without controversy. Each week, an unattributed editorial would appear on topical issues—politics, coal-mine strikes and shut downs in West Virginia, statewide racial divide, and even some hot campus issues. One particular editorial about the Methodist Church—imagine that—caught the eye of the college president, a Methodist minister. Mort walked into the editorial office one day and said: “You’re gonna get me fired.” I responded, “OK – we’ll back down.” His response: “No don’t. You’re doing great.” But we did adjust my opinion pieces to come under a new moniker of “Miller Time”—which grew in popularity and appeared in several regional newspapers. I later found out that Mort had been called to the President’s Office four times
for what he later called “prayer sessions,” and that it was suggested that a fully attributed named column would be more appropriate for my content.
That fall I signed up to take his January Term class, “The History of the Circus.” Like Virginia Wesleyan, J-Term is a time for students to immerse themselves in one class. The class sounded like fun and I figured it would be an “easy A.” I was breezing along with an A in the class. The night before the final exam, a snow storm hit the Buckhannon area and a bunch of us decided to blow off studying, grab some refreshments, truck tires and cafeteria trays and head to a local mountainside for an evening of fun. The group grew in size as did the intensity of fun. At 5 a.m., we headed to the local donut shop for some coffee and showed up for the 8 a.m. final in a disheveled appearance. Let’s just say the exam didn’t go well and the returned exam had in big red writing at the top: DISAPPOINTING! Let’s not discuss the grade. I found that exam when packing to move here, and Mort and I shared a good chuckle. We had never discussed my performance in that class until that time.
After graduation, I remained in West Virginia working for a newspaper system. Mort kept sending me advertisements for positions out of state in areas other than newspaper work. He wrote on one such packet, “There are people who write news, and there are people that make news. You are the latter. Get out of here and go do it.”
That encouragement led to a speech writing and public relations position with a college president in Ohio. I was 22 years old and my career in higher education—in Mort’s term, making news—was launched.
Through the years, we stayed in touch. Whenever I wrote something for a national publication that needed a second set of eyes, I sent it to Mort for commentary. The typewriter pages and red felt-tipped pens were eventually replaced with electronic back-and- forth drafts. Our paths crossed with common professional acquaintances from time to time, and in 1991, he was a speaker at my inauguration as President of Lincoln Memorial University.
In 2007, I returned to West Virginia as President of Bethany College. Mort was serving in the President’s Office at George Washington University as Director of Stewardship. His wife M.E. was working in Charleston in then-Govenor Manchin’s administration. We agreed that he would join me at Bethany in a similar capacity to his GW post. M.E. followed a year later, serving as Chair of the Communications and Media Arts program.
Aside from our normal duties, we worked with students on news writing, branding and marketing, and the establishment of an entirely student-run Digital Broadcasting Network. We served as advisors to the campus chapter of the Society for Collegiate Journalists and won the SCJ National Chapter of the Year in 2014. We were having FUN, and it showed. The Society for Collegiate Journalists noted that they’d never seen senior administrative commitment quite like ours.
As I was planning my move here in 2015, it was apparent that I needed a chief of staff—a master generalist, someone with tireless work habits, impeccable integrity and loyalty, and
strong communications skills. In circus vernacular, I needed someone who could juggle a lot at the same time.
As Senior Vice President, Mort ran all operations on the second floor of Godwin Hall. He provided the internal support that gave me the flexibility to work on fund-raising, friend- raising, and external relations. Because of his quiet nature and style, few realized that he was the behind-the-scenes leader making change. He was a great listener and a solid advisor.
Some have suggested that after serving as a vice president at four universities, Mort would have aspired to the top seat. And I often suggested, as the Chair of the Board of Academic Search, that I could get him a good look.
He’d thank me, but would always say… “I’m too busy right now,” or “Maybe after I finish writing my book,” or “We’ve got some important projects coming—maybe after that.”
That was his way of saying he enjoyed being the behind-the-scenes guy.
My favorite movie is “The American President.” There’s a scene with President Andrew Shepherd and his Chief of Staff A.J. McInerney that resonates with me. Shepherd chastises McInerney for never pursuing office, and A.J. responds with a parallel quote to Mort and me. It was Mort’s way of saying: “Because if I weren’t the behind-the-scenes guy, you’d be the most popular journalist in some rural community in West Virginia.”
For the past 30 years he called me “President” or “Sir,” once saying, “When we’re retired and out of office, maybe I can once again call you by your first name.”
In a note Mort wrote to me around Thanksgiving this past year, he said that after all these years he had found his “happy place” . . . “I’m working at a place that I like and believe in; I am living in a community I enjoy; I work with a staff I really like and for a boss I respect. And I’m doing what I really set out to do.”
He loved this place, and while he had an incredible impact on our campus community, I know that so many of YOU touched his heart more than you know. Never having children, he affectionately called his immediate staff, “The kids.” Just last month, he sent me a note that said, “the recent staffing additions have provided the best staff—quality of work and quality of people—which I’ve had at any of my places. I thank you!” That’s the way he was, thanking others for his good work.
He continuously expressed special pride in Lori Harris and Stephanie Smaglo—who were almost literally with him until the end. Lori, he would say, “is the daughter I never had.” He called Stephanie “the superstar in waiting.”
Following his passing, Stephanie posted on the website: “His absence is felt deeply by the VWU community, and his unwavering kindness, gentle nature, profound wisdom, and mischievous sense of humor will be missed tremendously by all who knew him.”
Mort, we know you’re here with us today. We can feel your presence. Your warmth. We know you’re smiling down on all of us who meant so much to you. (Hopefully you’re not cringing too much at any grammar mistakes I’ve made.). . . You were taken from this world too soon and it leaves a hole that can never be filled. But I know you would say, “The show must go on” — and we’ll do our best to live each day honoring your memory, treating others with kindness and compassion, and continuing on a path of lifelong learning and adventure. We thank you for being you, and we will hold on tight to the memories you leave behind.
Thank you.