Notes in Passing: Lee Russell

by Gary Wheeler

Lee C. Russell left us on August 13, 2022, a few weeks shy of his 88th birthday. Elizabeth and Harold were at his side in the emergency room. They found him at his apartment barely responsive but alive. They had gone to his apartment when it became clear that his daily communications with others at St. Michael’s had ceased. Lee received last rites and transitioned from the small COVID imposed world he inhabited at the end of his life.

Lee’s contributions to St. Michael’s were partly overshadowed by his curmudgeonly way of interacting with others but should not be underestimated. Particularly, for someone who had traveled a difficult road that shaped him. Born in Silver Spring, Maryland, he grew up with a father whom he reports he could never please. He entered the Marines at a young age and had that tough approach to the world imprinted on him, an imprint that never really left him. He was frequently seen wearing his Marine cap to remind us. After his time with the Marines, he became a journalist and ultimately the managing editor of the Northern Virginia Sun. He shared with me the profound moments he covered including the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. speech at the Lincoln memorial. I saw a picture of him during those days and there was a snarky grin on his face. I asked him if he was a bit of a cad, and he reported that he was.

He knew he needed love but struggled to find it with his children, siblings and his wife who divorced him late in life and gave their home to her son, not to Lee. He struggled with others at St. Michael’s who worked to be his friends. His interactions with women were from the century he was born into, and while some others his age achieved and understanding of concepts like personal space, he didn’t always get it. This was obvious in his work as a photographer, snapping pictures without permission and occasionally disrupting holy moments to get his shot following the morays of the past.

But Lee, perhaps unexpectedly, became a strong Christian progressive, being an outspoken advocate for LGBTQ rights, compassionate treatment of immigrants, women in the church, and victims of COVID. He also believed in hierarchies. He never stopped reminding me when I was the associate editor of the Sword that he was the editor and had the final word. When I took over as the editor this past January and I would ask him for his opinion on an issue, he insisted that I was the decision maker, even if he didn’t like my decisions. A theme of his personality was low level combat, over small things like grammar or large things the unequal American assistance to people in Ukraine vs Somalia.

And Lee was an amazing professional. I shared his design and layout work with one of the retired staff at the Democrat-Gazette who spoke admiringly of the Sword. And his work ethic was exceptional. He would spend hours a day for two weeks getting the next issue ready as he read every missive from the Episcopal News Service or all the media outlets on issues of public interest such as Covid. This work occurred during a time when he became exceedingly frail with irregular rhythms of the heart, heart failure and multiple strokes, and loss of muscle and balance. His physical and mental efforts and belief in his contribution to the common union through the Sword were completely courageous.

Elizabeth this past week preached on the importance of looking for God in the world. While it was sometimes hard to see the God in Lee, there was a lot of it there. Yes, he was a curmudgeon, but he was ours and God’s curmudgeon.

Lee’s ashes were placed in the ground in our columbarium on October 1 with a small iron sword, the only physical marker of his life. Rest in peace, Lee. The battle is o’er.