Class: 1969
The thing I remember most about Russ Bryant is his eyes, his gray, wolf eyes—extremely unusual in a black person. I got to know Russ fairly well post-Carleton, when we both worked and lived in Minneapolis. Russ was originally from Malvern, Arkansas, was about four years older than most of us (b. 1943), and the college’s records show he did not graduate. He worked for a time as a reporter with the Minneapolis Tribune, as did I, and I think his time at the Tribune led indirectly to his death by drowning in one of Minneapolis’ lakes, perhaps Lake Harriet. There’s no conclusive evidence, no note etc., but I’ve always thought Russ’ death in about 1973 was purposeful, by suicide. The college has no record of his major (perhaps English?), but it does show that he was active in a number of race-related committees and organizations while at Carleton: among them the student-faculty ad hoc Committee on Negro Affairs (CONA) in 1968, and as a representative for Students Organized for Unity and Liberation (SOUL), of which I was also a member. In the summers of 1966 and 1967, he worked as a tutor for A Better Chance (ABC), as did I in 1966 and 1969. After Carleton, Russ worked for a non-profit in south Minneapolis. Time has blurred the details. However, he was plucked from his position there (probably in communications) to work as a reporter for the Tribune, as that organization sought to increase its newsroom diversity as quickly as possible. He was not well-suited for that job, being extremely sensitive and not an extrovert, and was not given the support he needed at the newspaper to even make a go at succeeding.
Untimely, after interrupting his life, the Tribune unceremoniously let him go. It was during his time at the Tribune and shortly thereafter that I used to drop by his apartment after work at night, and Russ and I played chess well into the night. At least compared to me, he was a good chess player. I remember him looking up from the board once, laughing nervously as he did, and grabbing me with his piercing gray eyes, saying, “Farrell, you’re never going to beat me.” He was right. One day someone at the paper reported that he had drowned overnight in one of the city’s lakes. Who goes swimming in the lakes at night? Someone who wants to end his diminishing role in society after his tenure at the Tribune. He was never able to get back into the employment groove he had enjoyed at the non-profit before going to the Tribune.
I bet he was hard on himself. That’s my memory of Russ—quiet, sensitive, intelligent, a victim. Although I don’t recall him well during our days at Carleton, I do remember him well afterwards as an enjoyable part of my days in the City. May he Rest in Peace.
Terence Farrell ’69
Comments
The thing I remember most about Russ Bryant is his eyes, his gray, wolf eyes -- extremely unusual in a black person. I got to know Russ fairly well post-Carleton, when we both worked and lived in Minneapolis. Russ was originally from Malvern, Arkansas, was about four years older than most of us (b. 1943), and the college's records show he did not graduate. He worked for a time as a reporter with the Minneapolis Tribune, as did I, and I think his time at the Tribune led indirectly to his death by drowning in one of Minneapolis' lakes, perhaps Lake Harriet. There's no conclusive evidence, no note etc., but I've always thought Russ' death in about 1973 was purposeful, by suicide. The college has no record of his major (perhaps English?), but it does show that he was active in a number of race-related committees and organizations while at Carleton: among them the student-faculty ad hoc Committee on Negro Affairs (CONA) in 1968, and as a representative for Students Organized for Unity and Liberation (SOUL), of which I was also a member. In the summers of 1966 and 1967, he worked as a tutor for A Better Chance (ABC), as did I in 1966 and 1969. After Carleton, Russ worked for a non-profit in south Minneapolis. Time has blurred the details. However, he was plucked from his position there (probably in communications) to work as a reporter for the Tribune, as that organization sought to increase its newsroom diversity as quickly as possible. He was not well-suited for that job, being extremely sensitive and not an extrovert, and was not given the support he needed at the newspaper to even make a go at succeeding. Ultimely, after interrupting his life, the Tribune unceremoniously let him go. It was during his time at the Tribune and shortly thereafter that I used to drop by his apartment after work at night, and Russ and I played chess well into the night. At least compared to me, he was a good chess player. I remember him looking up from the board once, laughing nervously as he did, and grabbing me with his piercing gray eyes, saying, "Farrell, you're never going to beat me." He was right. One day someone at the paper reported that he had drowned overnight in one of the city's lakes. Who goes swimming in the lakes at night? Someone who wants to end his diminishing role in society after his tenure at the Tribune. He was never able to get back into the employment groove he had enjoyed at the non-profit before going to the Tribune. I bet he was hard on himself. That's my memory of Russ - quiet, sensitive, intelligent, a victim. Although I don't recall him well during our days at Carleton, I do remember him well afterwards as an enjoyable part of my days in the City. May he Rest In Peace.