Mike Sweeney — a professor emeritus at Ohio University, a role model in the field of journalism history, the editor of Journalism History from 2012-2018, and division chair from 2016-2017 — died on January 15, 2022 at the age of 63. AEJMC History Division Members share their remembrances.

I send my thoughts and prayers for all who had the privilege to know Mike Sweeney and now mourn his passing from this life. Eternity just gained the brightest star! I lived in Logan at worked at USU during the Sweeney era. I am so thankful for my friendships with Carolyn and David and Angie as well. May our Good Lord bless and comfort all. I know his words and wisdom will live on forever. – Margaret Lubke

I first met Mike in 1993 when he moved to attend Ohio U. for his Ph.D. I was just completing my time at OU and Pat Washburn was my advisor. I helped Mike move into his apartment. Partly because he needed the help, and because I needed his boxes so I could pack to move to Texas which is where he just came from. Ever the reporter, Mike was grilling me about working with Pat Washburn. (BTW – working with Pat was a delight and a highlight of my academic career). That began a longtime friendship. Years later, Mike moved to Utah State, and a few years after that I moved from Texas to BYU. Whenever I taught the graduate history class, I would invite Mike to campus to be a part of the class. He loved engaging with grad students wherever they were. – Ed Adams

Michael Sweeney didn’t know how to conduct a dull meeting. In fact, he worked to make them both short and fun. I served on the AJHA board when he was president. In the past, board members were unable to attend the academic discussions because of all the business meetings. He figured how to put the business in context. When an issue came up during an annual conference, he’d contact each person to determine whether we needed a meeting and, when possible, take an informal vote without gathering in person. The meetings he conducted were serious, but he led with a light touch and a delightful sense of humor. He wasted no time. Like his students, we colleagues loved him. In his eulogy to Vice President Hubert Humphrey, former Vice President Walter Mondale said Humphrey taught us how to live and, with his cancer, he taught us how to die. I’ve thought about that comment so many times over the past several years as Michael Sweeney taught us how to live and how to die. He was always an inspirational role model. After his diagnosis, though, he continued teaching, attending academic meetings, publishing research, posting original paintings and sharing his medical progress on Facebook. RIP, Professor Sweeney. – Bill Huntzicker

Mike Sweeney, otherwise affectionately known as Sween Dog by the Ohio University graduate students, was the best educator, scholar, historian, and mentor. I was truly blessed to spend my years at Ohio University learning from him. His dedication to helping students and guiding those interested in historical research was unparalleled. He truly loved us grad students, and we loved him. In his classes, he taught us so much about life and the crazy world of academia. In my first year as a graduate student at Ohio University, he called me a badger concerning my research efforts in his Historiography class. It was the funniest interaction, considering he mentioned he has never told a female her research style resembled an animal. I will forever hold that nickname with pride. The fall semester of 2018 was thought to be his last time teaching Historiography, but as usual, he couldn’t stay away from teaching and returned the following fall. At that time, I struggled to find a final committee member for my master’s thesis. During a meeting with Aimee Edmondson, she told me that Sweeney was returning to teach and mentioned he wanted to be on my master’s thesis committee. The following phone call with my mother was filled with many tears and excitement on having the opportunity to learn from Sweeney again. The loss of Sweeney is so great, but he was such a warrior these past years, and man did he go out with a bang. – Claire Rounkles

There are people in this life, whom you meet and immediately feel they are a kindred spirit. Mike was certainly one of those people for me. Maybe it was the commonality of both having been newspaper people. Or that we both uprooted ourselves mid-career to return to graduate school. Our common love of teaching, journalism history, and a penchant for a good yarn certainly didn’t hurt. I remember the terrible trepidation I felt, during my first semester at Ohio University, when I sent him a draft of a conference paper I was working on as part of an independent study with him. The first thing I saw, in all caps, was “NICE ‘LEDE’ YOU WRITE WELL.” Those five simple words at the end of my first paragraph were such a reassurance that all the risks I had taken maybe weren’t all that risky after all. It was a balm to my reporter’s soul at a time when I was questioning whether I had made the right choice. This was part of Mike’s charm. He mentored you without you knowing it most of the time. He saw possibilities where self-doubt clouded one’s vision. And he was available. When you went to his office, he made you the center of his focus. Not the phone calls, or the emails, or the deadlines. Just you. – Pamela Walck

I was so surprised when I won the Tankard Award in 2013 in D.C. that I shouted, “Drinks are on me!” To my delight, Mike came to the hotel bar. It was such a validating moment to see Mike’s joy in celebrating my accomplishment. We shared dinner that night. I learned about Mike’s diagnosis, his mastery of Italian, and what a delightful raconteur he could be. That was my first real connection to Mike Sweeney—his eyes always reflected back to his audience the joy and appreciation of the moment and his true happiness for others’ success. – Tom Mascaro