Mischievous, brilliant, and freely wielding a biting wit, Tim Sweeney was “Proud and Great’s” very own leprechaun whose infectious laughter and love of West Point are now a part of our class legacy. He left us too early on December 28, 2014, and we miss him terribly.
Timothy Jay “Tim” Sweeney was born in San Jose, CA, on October 4, 1956 to Dennis and Jean Sweeney, the youngest of four children. A natural athlete and a gifted, albeit undisciplined, student, he was good at everything he tried and immensely knowledgeable about any subject that interested him. In high school, he set local records in track and field and was very active in myriad academic societies. Not surprisingly, he was a notorious flirt and was voted his class’s “biggest ham.”
Choosing USMA over Cal Berkeley, Tim joined the Corps of Cadets on July 8, 1974 and smiled his way through Beast Barracks and plebe year in F-1. His record reflects that he lettered in track and concentrated in aeronautical engineering, but Tim always embraced West Point on his own terms and often for his own amusement. He was a fearless iconoclast who was fond of finding humor in so many of the Academy’s traditions and tribal rites of passage and the class loved him for it. He was the corps squad athlete who readily endured his licks in F1 with the rest of our plebe class; he was the friend and classmate who tutored us on some of the most difficult classes and proffered advice on the women we dated and eventually married; he was the section leader who always asked the tough questions and was not afraid to challenge a P; he was the organizer of spring break expeditions to Bermuda and Florida that became the stuff of legends; and he was the crazy Californian who showed up seemingly at every pep rally dressed as MacArthur. The class never tired of it because we could never get enough of him.
Branching Field Artillery upon graduation, he got his Ranger Tab and gave the Army fourteen great and memorable years. His service included tours at Fort Sill, Germany, Fort Carson (where he served under Major General Tom Schwartz, his former tactical officer in F-1) and the Gulf War, for which he was awarded the Bronze Star. After rising through the company grade ranks, he made his mark with the Army and our nation. He was one of the Army’s foremost nuclear weapons officers, communicating and negotiating with two federal agencies and seven states to establish a surety program for the handling, transportation and destruction of U.S. chemical weapons in Europe and CONUS. He also developed and instantiated the Chemical Stockpile Emergency Preparedness Program (CSEPP) that coordinated with all Department of Defense chemical depots and local jurisdictions to respond to potential emergencies.
As he did with everything, Tim made the best of his years in the Army. Although he struggled with German as a cadet, he became fluent in the language as an officer. Always the athlete, he honed his soccer skills and was invited to play on local German teams. He became an expert skier and loved to race anyone who was foolish enough to challenge him on the slopes of the Alps. Despite his deployments, he managed to attend our classmates’ weddings, stealing the show at the receptions to the delight of the brides and their families who readily embraced his unabashed puckishness and affectionate welcome to our class’s larger family.
Along the way, he met Pamela Schmidt, the love of his life. Their transcontinental romance resulted in a happily crazy 23-year marriage that brought their daughter Caitlin into the world in 1994 and son Sean in 1996.
When the Army offered early outs after Desert Storm in 1992, Tim took advantage of it to make a new life for himself and his family. He parlayed his nuclear surety expertise into a highly successful 22-year civilian career, consulting for the Departments of Defense, Energy, and Homeland Security. Albuquerque, Dallas and Northern Virginia were destinations on the family’s adventure with Tim during those years, and they loved every minute of it. There were the annual ski vacations; the father-daughter golf outings, countless soccer tournaments in numerous cities; and, of course, his witty, politically incorrect Christmas letters that served as fodder for hilarious conversations at Sweeney-hosted parties and special occasions.
In many ways, Tim never changed from his years at the Academy. He was anything but dull and never lost his sense of humor and irony even as he courageously fought his losing eight-month battle with leukemia. But the true measure of a man is what he gives and leaves to others: Tim never forgot where he came from. He was a fixture at class reunions and gave generously to West Point; he was a revered coach and father figure over the years to so many kids who played soccer for him in Virginia and Texas; he gave the shirt off his back to people in need, asking nothing in return; he found the time to mentor friends, colleagues and young people who invariably sought him out for advice; and he left behind two great kids and a wife who will forever cherish his silliness, his zany family traditions, and his unconditional love.
All of us should take pride in the way Tim lived his life, and ’78 should take pride in calling him our classmate. His indomitable spirit will live on with us for all the reunions and for all our years afterwards in The Long Gray Line.
—Robert Gutjahr '78 and the Sweeney Family