Stuart died. He was in hospice in Christchurch, New Zealand, his homeland. He died on the thirtieth of April, 2022. Stuart was eighty-one. “And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
Stuart's story was astonishing. He had a strong Maori heritage. For a time in his childhood, he was a homeless kid who made his way with his fists and his cunning. He recalled fondly how, as a teen, he was nurtured and inspired by a teacher and a physician. Stuart became a surgeon in New Zealand. He emigrated to the United States in 1970. He studied at Menninger School of Psychiatry in Topeka, Kansas. He completed his residency, and was board certified in psychiatry. He graduated from the Topeka Institute for Psychoanalysis at the Menninger Clinic. Along the way, he earned a black belt in karate.
Much of his career he spent working in school reform. He was a giant in the field of applied psychoanalysis. He published over 200 scholarly works. Some of his most important publications were in the area of community psychoanalysis. Stuart founded and co-edited, with Dr. Nadia Ramzy, the International Journal of Applied Psychoanalytic Studies. He was the recipient of numerous awards. His work toward the amelioration and understanding of bullying received the 2012 Anna Freud Educational Achievement Award from the Schools Committee of the American Psychoanalytic Association.
On a personal note, I am grateful to Stuart. He edited a scholarly essay I published in his journal. I also applied Stuart's ideas about bullying to my inner-city classroom. The school I taught in was violent, frankly, and the application of his ideas saved us all a lot of pain. He also was just a nice guy, a fun and interesting guy to have lunch with.
Stuart was one of those folks who made good use of his own woundedness. He turned his own experience of being homeless, being bullied, and of bullying others into work that benefited—well, who knows how many? It also left him often sad and vulnerable.
Let me tell you a little story.
I chaired the sub-committee that eventually gave Stuart the Anna Freud Award. Stuart was angry and disappointed that he didn't get my sub-committee's education award during the first few years of the award's existence. (This had absolutely nothing to do with his outstanding work, and everything to do with the volume of excellent applicants.) He later told me how, when he didn't get the award at first, he felt “rejected.” And this isn't rejected as in you've been sending around a poem for publication. This was rejected as in, when he said it, that homeless kid was sitting across the table from me. As he felt it, a teacher, me, “rejected” him. Seldom has a single word revealed so much. And seldom has a single word been so open, so honest, so painful. I always respected his work. In that moment, my heart opened to the man.
Stuart was a man of paradox. A reformed bully, he at times could be as domineering as he was gentle, kind, generous. He had tremendous sophistication, and lots of hard edges. Once a homeless kid in New Zealand, he used to have lunch with me at Oscar's in the Waldorf Astoria of New York City. He had a gruff sweetness. He practiced meditation. A man of profound insecurities, he was appointed by President Bill Clinton to serve on the Academic Advisory Council of the Presidential Campaign Against Youth Violence. He was an advisor to Prime Minister Michael Manley of Jamaica and consulted with representatives from Finland, Australia, Paraguay, and Hungary. He advised the FBI on threat assessment and school violence.
For all his public accomplishments, I recall once when he didn't get a written invitation to a reception at a conference of fellow psychoanalysts. He was crushed. I told him that this just had to be a mistake, that these folks loved him, that he should come with or without an invitation. He did. At first, he stood just one step inside the door, uncertain, tentative, perhaps wondering, on some unconscious level, if he belonged. He was within moments surrounded by friends and admirers.
His life was a living example of the efficacy of psychodynamic psychotherapy in general, psychoanalysis in particular. Nevertheless, rather than his usual sports coat, it was never hard to imagine that Stuart could easily have ended up in an orange prison jumpsuit.
The last few emails I exchanged with him seemed to track his mental deterioration. At first some surprising misspellings and grammar mistakes from a highly regarded editor. Then he couldn't remember who I was … but quickly remembered. His last email was unintelligible. It was like watching Milton go blind, Beethoven go deaf.
I don't want to give the impression that Stuart and I were profound friends. Friendly is perhaps the best descriptor. For all that, I will simply say that my life is far better for having had him in it. He left the world a better place than he found it.
John Samuel Tieman, Ph.D., is a widely published poet, translator, and columnist. A retired teacher, he is an Educator Associate of the American Psychoanalytic Association.