Charles Messner died March 1st at the age of 92. Charles taught French at Carleton for 38 years, beginning in 1953 as an Instructor in Romance Languages and retiring in 1991 as Professor Emeritus. Charles served on many committees and was for a time the chairperson of Romance Languages and later of Modern Languages.
Charles was known for his wry sense of humor and a perennial twinkle in his eye. He had a self-effacing manner and was a very generous man to students and colleagues. When students wanted to take Italian, Charles taught it as an overload to his already full schedule, sometimes including two sections of Italian. He was an outspoken advocate for faculty when needed.
When Charles arrived at Carleton, modern languages were taught without emphasis on speech. He found this terribly old-fashioned. Thus, in the early sixties, Charles was instrumental in the design of the College’s first language lab (ancestor to today’s Language Center), which he also ran for a period of time. Charles loved teaching and discussing French literature, culture, and philosophers, such as Flaubert and Proust. After retirement, he and his wife Lois traveled widely, but in summing up the pinnacle of their itineraries, he stated, “there was always Paris.” During his many years at Carleton, he influenced generations of students who remember him fondly. As one alumna said, “He is one of those teachers whom one remembers with a permanent gratitude.”
A memorial service will be held at the Northfield Retirement Center’s Chapel at 11am on Friday, March 9th. Visitation will be one hour prior and a reception will follow. Memorials are preferred to the Northfield Retirement Community or Carleton College. A more complete obituary is available on the Benson & Langehough Funeral Home website.
Comments
I was most grateful to come to Carleton, but one of the things I dreaded was the language requirement. Yes, I am terrible with languages. To this day, I am still learning English and have a ways to go. My primary language. I needed two years of a second language at Carleton, and had heard good things about Mr. Messner, so I enrolled in French 1 and hoped for the best. What I quickly discovered was a sense of joy and enthusiasm in his class which I most certainly did not expect. He made it fun -- having unlimited patience with us, and providing needed encouragement for those (such as myself) who needed it the most. I started having such a good time, I actually completed assignments that were not even required. I simply wanted to. It became a running joke, as at each class I would turn in the "homework" even though it had not actually been assigned. So I went on to French 2, then 3 and 4. The night after passing the final exam, I went to the upstairs Rueb and had a pitcher or three of beer to celebrate my accomplishment, and to rejoice in the knowledge that the greatest obstacle to my graduation had been vanquished. But even then, I felt a bit sad, knowing that my French studies were over, and I would likely never use this language again. Now fast forward to 1984. Ten years after graduation, I accept a job in Belgium. The southern, and French speaking, portion of Belgium. Had I forgotten what Mr. Messner had taught me? No. I could communicate. I could enjoy, fully, my new environment. And I had Mr. Messner to thank for that. We spent seven years living in Belgium, and my experience there was a constant reminder of how he had helped me at Carleton. He epitomized the spirit of Carleton -- that for faculty, the students come first. To think of how one individual can make such a positive difference in the lives of so many students -- a prime example here, I am sure. So we wish you well on your journey, Mr. Messner. Perhaps, someday, we shall meet in Paris -- at an interesting sidewalk cafe. The first drinks will be on me...
This wonderful man taught me and Richard Dorfsman '91 enough Italian that I was able to say proudly that I was proficient. Our time together was "non c'e male" in this class of 2 people. Dona ei requiem eternam.
This is a big loss for Carleton. When I attended in the 1970s, "Chuck" as we called him (and we weren't sure if he knew that!) was a hero to the small but intrepid group of French majors. I still fondly remember that dry sense of humor. And for me, he inspired a lifelong love of French language, literature, and culture. I think he would have appreciated my answer when people ask me now, "Why in the world did you major in French?" I always reply, "Because I somehow sensed back in the 1970s that I would be working in Francophone Africa and Haiti in the 2000s and 2010s! Thanks for everything, "Chuck." RIP mon ami!!
I studied Italian with Professor Messner for 4 years. The first term there were about 20 people, the second term there were 12, and after that there was me....and then one other student who arrived the next year after living in Italy. I will forever remember working our way through Dante's Inferno, and the amazing background knowledge that he brought to that rich and difficult book. I was an art history major and knew I wanted to study in Italy. Having some background in the language was crucial to my enjoyment of my semester in Florence, and it has enriched my life ever since. Italy has been my destination of choice, and knowledge of the language has allowed me to go off the beaten path all over that country. I will be forever grateful to Professor Messner for his humor, his patience and his kind encouragement to a shy student. Ci vediamo!
When I took French I as a requirement in 1958, I failed my first quiz. I went to Charlie's office (I call him that because I have been visiting him for the last 40 years and ended up on a first name basis) and asked what I could do. Tears were streaming down my face. He told me to get a tutor. In my mind, tutors were for "slow" people, so I asked what else I could do. "Memorize the book," he said. That seemed doable, so I did it. I ended up with an A in French I, and went on to take enough French to be certified to teach it when I graduated, even though I was an English major. I never did end up teaching French, but the certification often helped me keep my job in tough times.
I also audited an Italian seminar which he held in his little house, (the first one he had in Northfield). His charming wife Lois served all of us (I recall there were 3 or 4 students in the living room) "black cows." These were root beer floats, but black cows was the New England term.
I was raised in Minnesota, but left for ten years after graduation from Carleton. I taught in Massachusetts, Louisiana, (New Orleans), and then back in MN. When I returned in 1973, I began visitng the Messners again. I lived in Bloomington but got to Northfield two or three times a year. I always brought them Scandinavian cookies which I had learned to bake from my mother, a native-born Norwegian. They loved my cookies!
We always had fun discussing the "old cays" at Carleton, my efforts at French, and modern politics. Charlie would laugh a great deal at the stories I told. He and Lois were avid readers, as was I, and when they seemed interested in a book I'd describe, I'd order it later on Amazon and have it sent directly to them.
I last saw him on Thanksgiving Day this past year. We were on our way to my niece's home in Northfield for dinner, and we left early so we could stop to visit Charlie. Once again, I brought cookies. (I had already started my Christmas baking and had his favorites for him.) He was sleeping peacefully, but woke him so we could talk for awhile. He seemed in very good spirits, as usual. I didn't know that would be the last time I'd see him, but now I'm awfully glad I woke him up. He taught me a valuable lesson that has held me in good stead my entire life. Don't give up on something when it's hard--just work harder. After failing that first quiz, he'd always wink at me when he passed back a future quiz and I'd received an A. He knew what I'd put into that quiz and it was our private joke.
I was not a French major, far from it; a mere language requirement survivor. But I remember Prof. Messner's melodic expositions on Camus in French to the present day. His intonation of "la vie existential" reverberates stilll.
er, "existentielle". Surprising I got a 'B"!
I have many warm memories of Professor Messner. His wonderfully wry smile and ever-encouraging presence made French language and literature a joy for me. With my uncertain skills and lack of confidence, he was the perfect, patient, and inspiring teacher. I will always remember Professor Messner's warm encouragement as I stumbled through my first oral report. I have vivid memories, after more than fifty years, of Monsieur Messner's discussions of Ionesco's Rhinoceros and Giraudoux's The Trojan War Will Not Take Place, all in French and never intimidating. Reading and discussing poets Rimbaud and Mallarme, surrealists and existentialists, Cocteau and Sartre, and many other writers with Professor Messner's never failing joy and interest in his students was a high point of being at Carleton. Oh! We were so fortunate to have him as a teacher. He left a deep and positive mark.
Micheal Steiner, class of 1969
I had studied (and spoke) Latin for four years in high school, but that was not enough to fulfill the Carleton language requirement. In 1968-69, I went on to earn the equivalent of a titled role as one of the most ‘terrible’ students that ‘Mr. Messner’ had ever faced. I wish he had recommended a tutor. That might have. been a bit of fun. Instead, he recommended the language lab. I avoided the language lab. I managed to fulfill the language requirement, and later, during a 1971 trip with many weeks in France, I was the one who understood what the French people were saying to us. My comprehension worked. My tongue was a bit tied. At a ‘camping’ spot just North of Amiens, I thought I was asking for ‘deux boissons fraiche,’ but apparently the camp store shopkeeper, standing in front of a cooler with a glass door, heard ‘deux poissons fraiche’ and told me he had none. I pointed to the cooler and he said ‘Ah! Boissons fraiche, boissons fraiche! Pas de poisson frois!’ The joke was on me. And thanks to Mr. Messner, I understood the joke, and made the shopkeeper laugh with my Marcel Marceau pantomime of being a fisherman. (Did you know that MM was active in the French resistance during WWII? I am confident that the cosmopolitan Mr. Messner knew more about MM than I ever will know. He coaxed me into French literature with Mauriac’s Thérèse Desqueyroux, and then Jean Genet, and made me brave enough to ask the English department to allow me to investigate Baudelaire and his Les Fleurs du mal as a ‘reach goal’ in my literature studies. Thank you, Mr. Messner!