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Joseph Philip Marx, Father Gerard O.S.B., Father Joseph Marx
b. March 04, 1928 in Spokane, WA
d. April 22, 2001 in Traverse City, MI
Parents:

Father: Theodore Michael Marx
Mother: Hazel Edna Williams

Family:

Marriage: October 14, 1967
Spouse: Eva Louise Wilwerding b. April 12, 1932 in MN
d. May 14, 1983 in San Diego, CA
Family History:

Phil graduated Mount Angel Prepatory in 1946. In 1951 he received a B.A, Liberal Arts with Major in Philosophy and minors in Latin and English from Mount Angel Major Seminary and obtained Oregon Teachers Certificate (Secondary), and proceeded with Theological Studies at the Seminary. On May 27, 1954 Joseph Philip Marx was ordained as Father Gerard Philip Marx, O.S.B. On June 3, 1956 he received an M.A. in Philosophy with emphasis on Aristotelian and Symbolic Logic, and History of Formal Logic from University of Notre Dame. From September 1956 to May 1967 he taught at Mount Angel Seminary and Mount Angel College. He described his teaching as: “Until the last three or four years the ‘brand’ of philosophy taught was entirely thomistic. During later years my interest has moved over into the existential field; more precisely: emphasis on the human person and what it means to be a person. In my opinion, I am convinced that I have succeeded in synthesizing these two ‘styles’ of philosophizing.” During this period he also served as a Marriage Counselor, where he met Eva. Upon their marriage Phil was excommunicated and moved to San Diego, CA. He began working as a marriage, family and child counselor. According to Richard Bucknum: “On January 6, 1971, the day after I reported to Naval Boot Camp at San Diego, Phil and his family moved into a motel to await completion of their new house in La Jolla. After moving in, his first project was to paint a replica of Salvador Dali’s ‘Don Quixote’ on his dining room wall, which he had completed by March when I got the weekend off from Boot Camp and visited them.” In the summer of 1991 he moved from San Diego to Portland, OR and, as he put it: “bought a house that had been built in 1988. The style of the house was late Cape Cod. The yard around the house was early Jurassic, where giant dandelions and wild grass grew and every unwanted week known to Oregon - except poison oak. I liked the architecture of the house but there were some serious mistakes. The narrow stairs ascending to the front-door deck looked like an ascent to a gallows. And the bottom of the front door was higher than the deck making it look like the door in the bulkhead of a ship. I was thinking of re-doing the front yard with the lawn going down to the street. I would pour a simple concrete curb to separate the lawn from the street. But before this idea had a chance to develop and gel, a boxer dog and his ‘socially challenged’ owners appeared on the scene. The three of them lived two doors down the street. The first day I was here, moving in, the master of this dog brought him up to introduce himself and the dog to me. They seemed to think of this dog as their child so I considered them the dog’s parents. They felt everyone should cherish this dog as they did. The dog never did anything wrong. He couldn’t. So he was allowed to ram at will and to do his miscreant deeds where he will. They were convinced that the neighbors welcomed this dog and all his acts as much as they did. I overheard this incident not long ago. ‘The dog hiking his leg against a juniper-hedge of the neighbor’s yard across the street. The dog’s mistress stood in her front yard looking on adoringly. Also watching was the neighbor across the street. The woman yelled out to the neighbor: “Look. He’s watering your shrub.” The neighbor, irate, said, “I don’t want him to water my shrub.” Then (she) called him home and hugged him and patted him lovingly on the head.’ The male owner once said that he believed the dog talked to him. I wonder about a man who is interested in what a dog has to say. Still, I should pin a medal on this dog. He is responsible for the shape my landscape-plans took. The looks of the house would be drastically changed and would become the talk of the area. Some people came from another part of Portland when they heard what we were doing. And so it began. One morning, as I went out to get the paper, I saw in the yard a steaming monument to this dog’s early-morning presence. Several days later I caught the dog doing his job in my yard. I shouted him off. That was it. I had to fence the yard. I turned my mind to the choices I had. A board fence? No, that was too enclosed. A chain-link fence? No, there is no beauty in a chain link fence. A wrought-iron fence? That had appeal. I had always liked a wrought-iron fence, especially if it had spears running along the top. But it was not dog-proof. And pillars with lights on top. This was so appealing that there was no longer any choice, but to do it - dog or no dog. The dog would have to learn. I immediately began the dog’s adult education. I owned a Crossman BB gun (pump-action). The first BB caught the dog in the very act of fouling my yard again. The next one caught him at the backyard gate trying to get the attention of a little female mongrel living on the other side of the fence. I got him again. The dog was getting practice. He was faster now. I decided I was not going to wait for him to come into the yard. I chose preventive action. I would get the dog before he came into the yard, maybe even before he even thought about it. It did not take the dog long to associate pain with the sound of my pumping up the gun. I didn’t have to use my gun anymore. I think there must now be so many BB’s lodged in his hide and fur that he clinks when he walks. So, thanks to the dog, I would have a wrought-iron fence in front, running between large concrete-block pillars with lights on top.“ For the next two years, Phil toiled at his landscaping. All because of one dog! In the spring of 1996 he moved to Elk Rapids, MI and was admitted as Father Joseph and served as a parish priest. Charlotte Marx delivered his eulogy: “I am Charlotte Marx, cousin of Father Joseph Marx, who always introduced me as his first cousin on his father’s side. I’m speaking in behalf of the family, his sister Bea in Oregon and his stepchildren James, Kathleen, Duane and David and his grandson Jesse. He arrived in Elk Rapids in 1996. This was only the second time I had ever seen him. I was present at his ordination in 1954 and visited him in San Diego in 1984. He found the area beautiful and the seasons fantastic, but most importantly he found wonderful caring people. He had a home built on N. Bayshore which he thoroughly enjoyed. He was the fourth child in a family of five and lived on a farm five miles out of Mount Angel. In his early years he attended a country public school. At the age of 13 he decided to become a priest and a monk at the Abbey, following his older brother, Father Dennis into the Benedictine order. He was ordained in May 1954. Two years later he received an MA in philosophy from the University of Notre Dame and returned to the Major Seminary as Vice-rector. During those years he taught Aristotelian and Symbolic logic along with all the courses in Aristotelian-thomistic philosophy. Logic and philosophy were his life. When we took him into the hospital last Wednesday at 1 am and the emergency room doctor pulled up a stool close to the gurney upon which he was lying he said to him ’You are dying!’ The Dr. then went through the options one is faced with at that time. When he understood that Father comprehended the issues the Dr. Seemed satisfied. Father Said he didn’t want heroic measures to prolong his life, but did request ample medication to reduce his pain as the end approached. At this point he went into a 3 or 4 minute dissertation on the premise that one could be heavily medicated even though it could kill a person because the intent was to kill the pain, not the person. The Dr. stood there patiently and listened until he finished. He simply said, ‘All we want to do is make you comfortable.’ In 1967 he left the Abbey and married Eva who had four children. In 1893 Eva died of colon cancer. After that he moved to different states and several attempts were made in order to return to his calling. On his first visit to Elk Rapids he met with Father Cole to talk about the possibility of returning to the priesthood. This was the first step in his journey to accomplish it. This was successful with the tremendous help of Father Hayden and Bishop Cooney. One of the requisites was that he return to the monastery for study for six months. He did this and was reinstated. He helped out in Bellaire and Sacred Heart. There were 3 other interests he had. Cooking was #1 with recipes intermingled with religious writings. There were treatises on Mary or death or whatever and on the next sheet of the tablet there were recipes for meatballs, beef jerky or a quiche. Second interest: movies, which he had hundreds of and could quote the pertinent lines. Third interest: precision of words. He frequently expounded on Hemingway’s concise sentence structure. Hemingway was noteworthy for sentence structure and Capote for content. Those of us who drive or live on north Bayshore remember his evening walks with his distinctive attire. No one could accuse him of being a clothes horse. His attire usually consisted of white sweat pants, sweat shirt, either a black cap or straw hat, flapping sandals or winter high boots because he could slip into them easily. He would be smoking a cigar and stepping well off the road to face the oncoming traffic. Frequently he’d stop and talk to the neighbors about something philosophical or something silly like the last Frazier program. When he built the house he insisted on having large white pillars on his porch. Frequently we’d walk over to visit and, because the pillars made the hose look southern, we’d ask him if he were surveying his plantations. Father Was a man of words and everything was written down. I’m going to quote from notes that I found on his coffee table after he was hospitalized the first time a few weeks ago. ‘The doctor sees his patient before 8 AM. On Saturday morning. He pulled up a chair saying nothing and began his conference with the sentence “You’re going to die!” So you have a statement from the medical profession. It gives you great evidence of prayers and their power. As the doctor’s words were announcing the death of the doctor’s patient, the people of Elk Rapids through their prayers were saying, “He shall not die” as they trusted in their faith and the love Christ had for them. I think the people who did so many things in their touching my heart with their good and loving deeds. But the community of Sacred Heart I thank even more for they have touched the heart of God.’ It is ironic that Father Was born in Sacred Heart hospital in Spokane, WA, and comes to rest eternally in Sacred Heart Church in Elk Rapids. Again the Marx family would like to thank Father Hayden and Bishop Cooney.”

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Copyright 2001 Richard Joseph Bucknum