Dorothy Sweaney was married to a man more generally known in the community than she was. But the old saw that claims “Behind every successful man is a woman” didn’t fully describe her, according to their children.
“I don’t know that it’s accurate to just say Mom stood behind Dad…,” corrects son John Sweaney.
Daughter Susan Sweaney Rich finishes the sentence: “...because she stood beside him.”
Dorothy’s husband was Jerry Sweaney, whose professional career included longtime managerial posts at radio station KTTS and also KTTS-TV (now KOLR). He got an early start in leadership as president of his class (1950) at Senior (now Central) High School and student body president at what was then Southwest Missouri State.
However, Dorothy was elected treasurer of their high school class. And with her degree from SMS, she taught high school English before taking on managerial roles herself at the former Heritage bookstores here for almost two decades.
But being a supportive wife and devoted mother were her proudest accomplishments, according to family and friends. The marriage endured for almost 67 years, until Jerry’s death in 2020. For the next two years, until she died May 10 at age 90, Dorothy continued to dote on her family, including four grandchildren and five great-grandkids.
Her mantra, all say, was “Life is good!” And those who knew of her challenging early years especially admired that endearing and enduring attitude.
Relentlessly bouyant despite early tragedy
Born Dorothy Jane Anderson in Springfield to Thomas and Edith Anderson, her mother died when Dorothy was only a year old.
“It was 1933, in the midst of the Great Depression, and she was the youngest of four,” recounts John. “Her grandmother and aunt moved in with them, and her grandmother served as her mom for her first nine or ten years.”
Yet, Susan says, her mom’s outlook was relentlessly buoyant.
“When we were growing up, she’d tell us ‘Don’t complain!’ She wasn’t being grumpy about it — she was sincere. She never complained,” perhaps, her kids surmise, because she remembered worse from her own early years.
“She had this joy and positive attitude that was contagious when she greeted someone,” says John. “When you saw her or called her, it was always ‘Hi! What’s happening?’ And she would always ask how every member of the family was doing.”
“Yes, by individual name,” agrees Susan. “And she wasn’t just saying it to be polite. She really wanted to know.”
Family members fondly remember birthday greetings: “Mom and Dad would always call and sing ‘Happy Birthday,’” says Susan. “As they got older, their singing got to be terrible. But after Dad died, Mom went ahead and kept doing it. She said, ‘I don’t care how bad I sound — I’m going to keep doing it because this is a family tradition.’”
The singing was so sweet to the ears of some recipients that they would let the birthday call ring through to voicemail when they saw who it was on Caller ID, in order to record the special greeting from Mom or Grandma.
John does acknowledge that Dorothy had a stubborn streak. For instance, she resisted entreaties to move from the multi-story house on McCann Avenue that was the family home for almost 60 years:
“One of the tactics we used was: ‘Mom, what are you going to do if there is a fire and you can’t get down the stairs to get out?’ And she said: ‘Well, I’ve thought about that, and I’ve got a plan. My plan is that I’ll go to the spare bedroom and I’ll knock the window out and climb onto the roof of the porch. Then I’ll shinny down the post that holds up the porch.’ She was 88 years old, and she was not kidding — she was dead serious.”
Dorothy eventually did sell the house, and she moved into a duplex at Elfindale. “I think it was mostly because the market was good,” says Susan with a chuckle. “She always said she was scotch — not the nationality, but thrifty. She saved scraps of paper to use for notes. She would wash aluminum foil and use it again.”
A lingering trait of being a “child of the Depression,” says John.
At the same time, family and friends appreciated Dorothy’s generosity.
“She was particularly generous with her time,” John notes. “She always had time for family. And she was really good at writing letters, and sending cards on special occasions like birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Day. Of course, she did that with her kids and grandkids — but she sent cards and notes to her friends, too.”
Greenwood Girls and Just Because Group
Among those friends were small groups with whom Dorothy met for lunch regularly for many years. One called themselves the Greenwood Girls because they’d attended Greenwood Laboratory School together. Dorothy began at Greenwood in kindergarten and stayed through the elementary grades. Although she transferred to Senior High, she retained her Greenwood roots and friendships.
“There were seven of us, and at first we took turns hosting in our homes and fixing lunches for the others once a month,” says Clara Busch. “As we got older and busier, we started going to restaurants — although sometimes we’d do things like go on a picnic. I had a travel trailer down on Turnback Creek, and a couple of times I prepared lunch down there. Wherever we went, though, we had fun talking and laughing.”
Busch says Dorothy’s “Life is good” and “Don’t complain” philosophies shone in one memorable outing that went awry.
“We were headed to Miller, Missouri, to have lunch at a tea room there. But the van we were in broke down. We had to wait hours for a part that was needed to fix it. Some men were working across the highway from where we had stopped. We gave them some money to go buy us some ‘burgers and french fries and milkshakes. They did, and we just had our lunch that day in the van. It was quite some adventure.”
Another of the Greenwood Girls gaggle, Winifred Nixon, says Dorothy was “was a very, very nice person. She wasn’t a joke-teller, but she could be very entertaining.”
Another group with whom Dorothy met monthly grew out of Bible study at First & Calvary Presbyterian Church, where she was an active member for many years. They called themselves the “Just Because Group” because they got together, well, just because.
Barbara Mauck was one of the four “Just Because” women, and she says Dorothy became one of her very best friends during 20 years of meetings.
“Dorothy was a wonderful person,” says Mauck. “I would pick up Dorothy on the way to lunch, and we would have little private conversations going to and from the restaurants. When we were all together, she was rather quiet — but when she spoke, everyone listened. She would speak her piece, and it would always be something thoughtful even though it was spur of the moment.
“Dorothy was very caring and loyal to her friends,” adds Mauck. “She lived in the moment. She had a great understanding about life, and she had a wonderful moral compass. I admired her. She really, really influenced my life for the better. She was a true friend.”
Dorothy’s legacy with her family includes a sweet treat and a love of books.
Asked for a memory of Dorothy’s kitchen skills, Susan and John simultaneously reply: “Pecan puffs!”
“Mom liked to bake,” explains Susan. “She liked to make chocolate chip cookies, and she had a chocolate cake that she always made. At Christmas she always did sugar cookies, and when we were kids she’d let us decorate two or three. But the pecan puffs were a favorite.”
The recipe is simple — pecan nuts, a little bit of flour, butter, maybe a little vanilla, formed into a ball and rolled in powdered sugar. They continue to be baked by others in the family.
“I’ll always associate pecan puffs with my mom and Christmas,” says John.
As for books, Susan says Dorothy “had a passion for reading. Mysteries, mostly. She could not be without a book. If she had a doctor appointment, for instance, there had to be a book with her in her purse, or she’d almost be panicked.”
John concurs: “She would often say ‘I don’t know what I’d do without reading.’”
“And she’d always get books for the kids,” notes Susan.
“That was her go-to gift,” says John.
“And she’d sign them,” adds Susan, making the books treasured keepsakes within the family.
As for the rest of the community, “Dad was more out front, was better known, had more stories told about him,” says John. But, he notes, those who knew Dorothy “benefited by being around her because she got a lot of joy out of life, and she shared that.”
Mike O’Brien is a former longtime newspaper reporter, editor and columnist and is also a college journalism educator in Springfield. To suggest a person who might make a subject for Lives Remembered, email him at LivesRemembered@hauxeda.com or obriencolumn@sbcglobal.net.