Professor David L. Lewis

David liked to say, “My life was as about as pleasant as anyone’s could be, with a wonderful family, and excellent health, except when administered chemotherapy and brain radiation for lymphoma in 2000-01.”

On April 5, 1927, David was born in his grandparents’ Bethalto, Illinois farmhouse to Donald and Edith Lewis--before the end of Ford Model T production, and Charles Lindbergh’s solo flight from New York City to Paris.

He grew up in two small Southern Illinois towns, Du Quoin and Sesser, which he liked to romanticize about, as time passed.

He left high school, where he was to be class valedictorian, before the end of his senior year in 1945 to enlist in the U.S. Navy during WWII.

After completing a B.S. degree in journalism at the University of Illinois and a M.S. in public relations from Boston University, he worked for Ford Motor Company, in St. Louis and Dearborn, from 1950-55.

He met his wife, Florence Yuri Tanaka at Boston University in 1952. They were married in Dearborn at the Martha Mary Chapel in Greenfield Village on Easter Sunday 1953, his 26th birthday. They were married for 69 years until Yuri’s passing this past October.

He first visited Ann Arbor in 1952. Sitting on a wooden bench in front of Clements Library, on a pretty October afternoon, he said to himself, “I’ve arrived where I’m going. This is Lewis’s Last Stand.” He lived in his favorite college town for the rest of his life.

After earning an M.A. in history at the University of Michigan he attended the London School of Economics as a Fulbright Scholar (1956-1957). He then returned to the University of Michigan, where he completed a PhD in history in 1959.

He was then employed by General Motors Corporation, at their headquarters in Detroit, from 1959-65.

Serving as a University of Michigan Business School professor from 1966-2008, he taught something old, something new--“American Business History”, “The Entrepreneur in History,” and “The Global Automotive Industry.”

David was an amazing professor and touched many students’ lives with his insights on life and historical knowledge. A student wrote, “I liked Professor Lewis a lot, and found his personal opinions on life, love and business very helpful and endearing. He made the class fun. He stands out as one of the most interesting professors I’ve had here at Michigan.” He greatly enjoyed teaching, retiring in 2008 at 81 years of age, and was at the time the University of Michigan Business School’s oldest-ever professor.

His primary research interest was Ford family/Ford Motor Company history, spending countless hours researching and writing millions of words for books, articles, and between 1974 and 2010, a column, “Ford Country” for Cars & Parts, an old car enthusiast magazine, where he also served as associate editor, until they ceased publication in the latter year.

In 1976 he completed, The Public Image of Henry Ford: An American Folk Hero and His Company, which is still one of the finest books about the automotive pioneer. After its publication he was recognized for the rest of his life as THE leading authority on Henry Ford.

Additionally, he recorded, on five continents, the reminiscences of more than five hundred active and retired Ford executives and other industry figures, including Henry Ford II who he interviewed multiple times between 1980 and 1985.

In 1975 he jotted down more than two hundred of his favorite things, most of them free or inexpensive. An abbreviated list was shared with his students, on the last day of each semester, to suggest that there is more to life than money, power, and position. His lists always began with “Dawn of a new day, lingering sunsets, and nights when even the tiniest stars are allowed out.”

He was an active member of the Society of Automotive Historians, where he served as president (1983-1987) and from whom he received several awards. He was also a founding member and long-time historian for the Henry Ford Heritage Association, which presented him with their Friend of Ford Award in 1997. Additionally, he served on the University of Michigan Faculty Senate, chaired the Graduate Business School’s honors committee, and served on the University of Michigan Press executive committee.

After retiring he completed his memoir, and continued to write about Ford history, including a biography of Henry Ford II.

He is survived by his children, Kim (Peter) Dunn of Ypsilanti Twp., MI, Lani (Doug) Walczak of Farmington Hills, MI, Sumi Lewis of Novato, CA., and Lance Lewis of Ann Arbor, MI; and four grandchildren, Tyler and Kristen Walczak and Christopher and Zilei Tucker, plus his brother-in-law, Marvin Horton of Tarboro, N.C. He was predeceased by his devoted wife of 69 years, Florence Yuri Lewis, and his sister Sharon Horton, of Tarboro, NC.

A closing observation from David Lewis: “Good luck to future generations, which seemingly may need it.”

A Celebration of Life Luncheon will be held on Friday, June 9th at 1:00 p.m. at Muehlig Funeral Chapel, 403 S. Fourth Ave. in Ann Arbor, MI 48104. (734)663-3375.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that memorial gifts honoring the late David L. Lewis be sent to the Ford Piquette Avenue Plant Museum in Detroit. David’s commitment and leadership were instrumental in seeing Ford’s first factory saved and restored to become a National Historic landmark of our automotive heritage for future generations.

Online donations: https://www.fordpiquetteplant.org/get-involved/donate/

or mail to: Ford Piquette Avenue Plant, P.O. Box 2127, Detroit, MI 48202.

Please indicate that your gift is a tribute to Professor David L. Lewis on the check or in your email message, as well as a designation for your gift, if applicable (General Fund, Preserving the Legend, Adopt-a-Car, etc.) For assistance, please contact Jill Woodward at [email protected] or (313) 872-8759, ext. 101.

Please plan to attend the service on June 9th at 1:00 at Muehlig’s, and/or share memories/condolences on David’s guestbook.

David L. Lewis - Celebration of Life Video lovingly submitted by his family https://youtu.be/8IE5kRwGwvc

To view the live stream of David's Celebration of Life please click here https://youtube.com/live/d4h8lXPyr3c?feature=share

A Loving Tribute from David’s oldest daughter Kim, and her husband Peter Dunn

May 14th, 2023

Some of Both

When offered a choice of items, Dad would almost always respond with “Both.” Dad enjoyed food of many different types, especially sweets and Mom’s home cooking. In particular, ice cream, pie, cake, and fudge were perennial favorites. Almost without fail, he would want to sample all the possible options on offer. I wanted to start with this as it is so core to his personality.

A particular favorite was a mixture of peanuts and jelly beans. He enjoyed this sweet/salty mixture throughout most of his life. He was particular about the type of peanuts, preferring classic Virginia style (with the skins in place), but would accept something like dry roasted, but it was not his preference.

He was quick to laugh, even during the dark times. He really did “Look on the bright side of life.” Giving up was not in his nature, he just pushed through the pain from his many injuries and did his best to work with what remained from the ravages of Parkinson’s. Being around him after the stroke brought perspective. He was struggling, yet still laughing at our faint attempts at humor.

For most of my life, he enjoyed being involved with various endeavors, many revolving around Henry Ford. Our home had so many books relating to his wide-ranging interests. In some respects, you might say we grew up living in a library, or perhaps an archive would be a more apt description. There was an order to it, but one that was only obvious to him. For instance, looking in an overstuffed file cabinet, you would almost certainly find folders with just one sheet of paper, or a small clipping. His computers (mostly provided and maintained by the university) represented another level of chaos, one that only he could decipher.

Outside the family, he would present a formal and serious demeanor, but within the family, we knew him as a joker, with a corny sense of humor. He took joy in pulling a Pop Quiz on us, a favorite was asking us to name State Capitals. Or to catch us off guard, he would ask “How’s

your Job?,” then wait patiently for an answer. You knew it was coming whenever you visited, but the timing was his choice.

Dad didn’t have the normal “Dad” interests. Hunting, fishing, golf, grilling, etc. The typical greeting card fodder didn’t apply. This meant that selecting a Father's Day card was particularly vexing, he simply was not interested in nor engaged in many of the activities to which the cards related. A plant tour or rummaging in a dusty archive would be more to his liking. He enjoyed looking for buckeyes and cattails, riding roller coasters, carving pumpkins, doughnut and cider mills, and riding bikes to Food and Drug Mart, Dairy Queen, and the Blue Front. However, try as we might, we just never found a card like that.

Yardwork would be another example of a typical Dad thing that he didn’t enjoy or participate in. I remember him working in the yard, normally mowing the grass, but only in the early years. Most of the time, these tasks were done by my Mom, or later by my brother Lance. As Dad had turned over yard maintenance to Mom, she controlled what was planted, removed, and trimmed. It was her domain.

As befitting a Ford aficionado, Dad owned a Model T. It was his baby, and as such had a semi-permanent home in the garage. Thankfully, it was a narrow vehicle as it occupied the bay near the door to the main house. There was no way to overlook or ignore the fact that it was there. He seldom took it out for a drive, but whenever he did, there was much fanfare involved. Getting a ride meant being on display, but that was really the point.

It would be a mischaracterization to say that Dad was a hoarder in the classic sense. He didn’t care for most of the things that would be associated with a hoarder, but make no mistake, he had a strong urge to keep huge volumes of “Stuff”. The aforementioned single clipping in a folder was but a small part of the colossal stash of documents, papers, correspondence, and clippings from all manner of publications, the list goes on and on. In the later years, we were BLESSED to have Mike Skinner practically single-handedly dig through the mountains to catalog and preserve his decades’ worth of possessions and research. A most sincere THANK YOU to Mike for his tireless efforts. And also to Sandy for her endless patience while he meticulously waded through it.

Dad was a consummate conversationalist and interviewer. He enjoyed discussing a wide variety of topics with anyone who might be available. When I was young, it seemed that he could and would talk about just about anything. Because of this, I have very fond memories of getting EXTRA LONG pony rides at Mr. Esterline’s pony ring. The two of them would be chatting about who knows what, all the while, we continued to ride round and round. Looking back, I am not sure if it was done to extend our time on the ride, but it was wonderful for us.

It seemed that my dad had a young soul, even in his later years, he would engage with, and show interest in some of the same things as people much younger than him. There is for instance the famous (within the family) kick scooter incident. While out on one of the many walks with his children and grandchildren, he practically demanded to be allowed to ride the scooter, horrifying my mom who was rightfully concerned that he would fall and get hurt. To no one’s surprise, he took off and had a wonderful time, showing off for the camera as he would often do. He was happy, we were shocked, and it was something that we have all laughed about since.

Most of us like hot beverages to be hot, my Dad however expected his coffee to be lip-burning hot. It was just accepted that he would ask the waitstaff to heat up his coffee in the microwave before bringing it to the table. At home, he had an insulated mug that was to be used to keep it hot. Inevitably, it would cool to the point that he would not enjoy it, and then not drink it.

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When Dad moved to a bedroom at the back of the house, he developed an unhealthy obsession with the view out the window. There was nothing extra special about it. There was a large Maple tree and some bushes. But to him, it was his sanctuary, and was the “perfect view.” This represented an extreme challenge when it became time for him to move, as we could not possibly replicate it, try as we might.

Speaking of obsessions, anyone that was around my dad would know that he loved taking pictures. It was just expected that he would say “Let’s take a picture” whenever we were together. Suddenly, the entire focus of whatever event would shift to photography mode. We have SOOOOO many pictures, but to his credit, we will all cherish them now, thanks, Dad.

Finances were handled in a unique way. For the most part, Dad would defer to my Mom, giving her the title of the Exchequer, with the exception of the Income Taxes. Dad claimed those, but with almost clockwork regularity, he would have to ask for an extension for filing them. This caused no end of frustration for my Mom as she expected them to be done on time as she dealt with the daily transactions and it was important for her to have it up to date.

Dad once auditioned to play Batman for a local event. However, during the audition he actually read the part for Robin, thereby sabotaging his chances of getting the part. Later he admitted that he had done it on purpose claiming that he had an unfair advantage due to his resemblance to Adam West.

My dad had some serious issues with technology. Even though he had a Ph.D., trying to explain how to do things seemed to be much more difficult than expected. This was a constant frustration for Lance, being the primary instructor. For example, making and receiving calls on his cell phone. His physical limitations in the later years caused him to change settings unexpectedly, and it meant that he had extreme difficulty making or receiving calls. This was especially bad when he was trying to connect with his sister Sharon Horton.

My dad was blessed with amazing skin on his face, even into his 90s people would comment on it. Unlike most, he didn’t develop wrinkles or excessive blotching, or most of the other age-related changes. In fact, many of the women in his life would comment that they wished they had his rosy complexion and smooth soft skin. He was adamant that he needed to be clean-shaven, and took great pride in being so. And was most unhappy when he was unable to do it or get someone else to do it for him. When it came time to clean out the house, we found so many old well-used razors (The David L. Lewis Razor Museum).

So much of what I am is a result of my Dad’s influence and guidance. He was strong but not too much, he was kind without being weak, he was generous but still frugal. He had many sides depending upon the audience, but for me and the members of his family, he was just our Dad. We were blessed to have him for so many years.

It is with profound sadness that I say goodbye to this man that has been so much a part of my life. Thank you for everything, and for being you.

With Love, Kim (and Pete)