Lars Svenonius’ routine didn’t change after he retired.
The professor emeritus of philosophy continued to come in every day, studying his beloved ancient texts and theories of logic, teaching those who wanted to learn. His yearning for knowledge only abated last month, when he died of cardiac arrest at the Fox Chase Rehabilitation and Nursing Center in Silver Spring on Sept. 27. He was 83.
“He was a very sweet, kind person,” said his wife, Diane Svenonius. “He loved to read. As time went on, it became exclusively what he did.”
Born in Sweden, Svenonius served in the Swedish army before starting his academic career. He first came to the United States in the mid-1950s after he was invited to study philosophy at the University of Pennsylvania. He then returned to Sweden and graduated in 1960 from Uppsala University with a doctorate in philosophy, and he got married in 1964.
He returned to the U.S. to accept a position as a visiting professor at the University of California, Berkeley and then became an assistant professor at the University of Chicago. Svenonius came to this university in 1969 and taught medieval philosophy and both basic and advanced logic until his death.
But Svenonius’ life included more than books and logical theories. Outside academia, he was an avid musician who his wife said often found solace in playing a host of instruments: violin, viola, harpsichord and piano. He was also a devoted father to his three sons, she said.
“When I started working, he would get them their oatmeal in the morning and get them off to school,” Diane said. “He thought the world of his children.”
While he was a quiet man at times, Svenonius would become outspoken when faced with an authority figure or rule he did not like, Diane said. Always one to speak his mind against injustices or something he thought was trivial, she said he often surprised those who were used to his reserved character.
“It seems rather unorthodox,” Diane said. “He was usually careful in speaking. In private he did a bit of thinking before he would give his answer. But he disliked what he thought was illegitimate authority and was quite determined to object to it.”
Fascinated by how people arrived at their own conclusions, Svenonius studied texts in their original languages to fully understand their meaning. He learned to read Polish, Greek and Latin.
When with students, Svenonius tried to find innovative ways to connect material to the bigger picture. Once, when teaching a lesson on the logic of religion, he took his class to an observatory as a way to demonstrate how the heavens were structured, pointing out the locations of constellations and galaxies.
Svenonius had a thirst for knowledge that never seemed to be quenched, friend and fellow philosophy professor John Brown said. Though his students respected his intellect and passionate approach to teaching, he wasn’t the most popular of professors due to the intense nature of his courses, Brown added.
He did, however, make a lasting impression on others whom he worked with throughout his time at the university.
“Oh gosh, he was wonderful,” said Louise Gilman, an administrative assistant in the philosophy department. “He was always looking to do something new. Always reading and studying. He always wanted to expand his own horizons as well as his students’.”
Svenonius is survived by his wife and three sons from a previous marriage. An open memorial service is scheduled for today in the West Chapel at 4:30 p.m.
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