The following are excerpts from TCU Chancellor Emeritus Dr. William E. Tucker’s remarks at Dr. Moudy’s
memorial service.

Like a legion of others, I admired Jim Moudy the man — my professor and later my boss — from our first meeting half a century ago to the day of his passing. And I shall continue to do so until time works its way on my senses.

Devoted to family, he was a man of informed and vibrant faith to the very core of his being. A Christian and a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, he was a student of the Bible, finding solace and strength as well as perspective therein. University Christian Church was integral to his life and work.

Captive to the true and the beautiful, especially the music of the ages, Jim had a quick, disciplined, expansive mind, and he used his remarkable intellect to full advantage as a brilliant student of Ray Petry’s at Duke University.

Master of the English language, he was a verbal stickler, modeling precision and clarity in expression as well as thought. In all my years of association with him, I cannot recall a single instance in which he misused, misspelled, mispronounced a word or muddled a sentence. He just didn’t do it. And — by the way — he expected his faculty and staff to follow his example. At this point, I hasten to add, he set himself up for considerable disappointment.

A serious man with the bearing of a stoic, he had an uncommon sense of humor. His razor-like wit — sometimes wry, often spontaneous, never contrived — served him well and turned furrowed brows into broad smiles over the years.

There was not a phony bone in Jim Moudy’s body. He was who he was, never pretending to be more or less, and — dear friends — that was good enough. Very good indeed.

Put simply, Dr. Moudy was a leader of the first rank. Self-assured but humble, he had a mind of his own together with a steel-braced backbone and seldom if ever yielded to public pressure.

When asked on one occasion to pick his most significant contribution as chancellor, he singled out the planting of a Phi Beta Kappa chapter on campus. I hesitate to question his judgment, believe me, but in my view three of his many other accomplishments loom even larger.

— He led the University into and through a particularly difficult time in American society. We call it the Vietnam Era. A high fever racked a sour nation. Cities burned. Campuses boiled over. Not at TCU. Although tempers flared, no serious eruptions scarred South University Drive. Chancellor Moudy kept his head and persuaded others to do likewise. Sometimes I thought ice water coursed through his veins. But I knew better.

— More than any other president or chancellor, he led TCU to become a university in the richer sense of the word, a major university with full-blown doctoral as well as masters and baccalaureate programs. Give him credit. He earned it.

— He served uniquely as a bridge between the old and the new TCU. Respecting the past, he leaned into the future with vision and resolve.

As I delve deeper in the University’s yesterdays, I am struck by the degree to which the first president, Addison Clark, and Jim Moudy were alike. Both intellectuals, both men of faith, both bent to take counsel with themselves, they made it a habit to under-promise and over-deliver, and that’s rare in our time.

In sum, Dr. Moudy was a good man of quiet strength. Mindful of his long and losing struggle with failing eyesight, I think of the Apostle Paul.

Wrote Paul to the sisters and brothers in Corinth: “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then we will see face to face.” Now has become then for Jim. He sees again, and we rejoice with him. Thank God Almighty. In the fullness and splendor of the eternal, James Mattox Moudy sees again.