THE UNIVERSITY OFCHICAGO 9 EECOMDFebruary 28, 1978 ISSN 0362-4706 An Official Publication Vol. XII, Number 2LAWRENCE A. KIMPTONOctober 7, 1910-October 31, 1977A record of a memorial service for Mr. Kimpton4:15 P.M.January 12, 1978Rockefeller Memorial ChapelTHE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGOFOUNDED BY JOHN D. ROCKEFELLER© Copyright 1978 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved.INVOCATION E. Spencer ParsonsAndanteTwo Chorale PreludesBist Du Bei Mir W. A. MozartJ. S. BachJ. S. BachREMARKS George H. WatkinsJulian H. LeviRomance C. SaintSaensREMARKS John E. SwearingenNorman MacleanBENEDICTION E. Spencer ParsonsVoluntary in D H. PurcellThe music is performed by Edward Mondello, University organist, and Thomas Howell, associateprincipal horn, the Chicago Symphony Orchestra.E. Spencer Parsons is Dean of Rockefeller Chapel and Associate Professor in the Divinity School.George H. Watkins is a consultant for Champion International Corporation, and a Trustee of The University of Chicago.Julian H. Levi is Professor of Urban Studies in the Division of Social Sciences and Executive Director of the South East Chicago Commission.John E. Swearingen is Chairman of the Board of Directors, Standard Oil Company (Indiana).Norman F. Maclean is the William Rainey Harper Professor Emeritus in the College and Professor Emeritus in the Department of English.George H. WatkinsAs I think back on the six years I • served as anofficer of the University during LawrenceKimpton's administration, I find myself remembering not only the extraordinary variety andcritical nature of the problems which confrontedhim, but the clarity and vigor of his approach totheir solution. His qualities, versatility, and experience were wide-ranging and exceptional.Here was a man who tracked down rustlers whomade a foray on the herd of the prep school ofwhich in his early career he was the head; whowas the administrator of the vast project whichmade nuclear energy possible; who was an educational administrator of remarkable achievements,and afterward became an executive who constructively gave a giant corporation his vision andinsight.To all of this he brought a deftness and a lighttouch, an unfailing sense of humor, a serene confidence, and a rare humility. As he said, "When Imake a mistake, it is a dilly." He inspired thosewithin and without the University because theyquickly came to rely on his ability to develop solutions to difficulties of any dimension. His relaxedand amiable manner was underlaid by a toughnessand determination that he demonstrated whennegotiation and compromise failed.Many of the major problems which he faced aschancellor were nonacademic in nature, a dilemma shared by other chancellors and presidentsof this — and other — universities. And the solutions to some of these were nothing short of dramatic. But there was a far-ranging variety of otherproblems as well.In retrospect, the nine-year history of theKimpton administration falls into three distinctchapters. The first one, covering the years 1951-1953, was devoted to candidly facing the University's problems, vigorously attacking them, andputting the house in order.In an early "State of the University" report tothe faculty, he said:When a new chancellor takes office, I can assure youthat the problems he is presented with soon approachinfinity, and all of them are presented as equallypressing. . . . They may be the problems that none ofus likes to face, those we thought would leave ourdoor if we sat still and pretended we were not athome. ... To report that we had encountered nosignificant problems during a year would be to reportthat we had died; and to report that we had foundaltogether new answers to our problems would be to report that we had never lived. As far as the state ofa university is concerned, either would be bad, andneither will happen to us if all the coming years arelike the past year, which was, objectively speaking,not without animation. . . . When we report to ourselves in retrospect, we must do more than list theproblems we have already confronted. We must doeven more than give ourselves quiet assurances thatthese problems at the time were treated in the unsubdued style long ago developed by the several debating societies of our faculty and students. Ourbasic task ... is to review the past year with twoquestions uppermost in mind. Did we sense the significant problems of the moment at the moment?Were we guided toward a solution of our problemsby something larger than the moment — by the mostintrinsic part of our tradition? We must ask thesequestions because the University is the result ofsomething more than good fortune, industry, and talent. It has also been built upon a foundation of principles.The numbers of problems which the new chancellor was attempting to solve included:• Balancing of a budget that had run deficits in allbut two of the years since 1938; and the relatedneed of providing new resources, especially toincrease faculty salaries, for, as he asserted,"faculty salaries are more important than newbuildings at this period in our affairs."• The clarification and improvement of the relationships between the many elements of acomplex institution, ranging from those of theCollege to the Divisions; of the professionalschools to the rest of the University and to theirprofessions; of the Laboratory Schools to theresearch and teaching functions of the University.• College enrollment, which had been decliningsince 1948 and had reached such a low point in1951 as to pose the question whether the College could be sustained. Furthermore, theoverall enrollment on the Quadrangles had fallen by 14 percent.• And finally, most critically demanding immediate remedy, the almost daily increase inthe menacing deterioration of the Universitycommunity and neighborhood.Two years later, at the end of this first chapterin 1954, Chancellor Kimpton was able to reportthat the University had begun to make the turn.He stated, "... out of our troubles has come anew community of scholars rededicated to the increase of our University. . . . The evil days aredrawing to an end, and we find that in this passagethrough the shadows we have gained a new14toughness, a new strength, and a new dedication."There was reason for hope, and optimism:• Enrollment was up— including a 40 percent increase over the previous year in entering students at the undergraduate level;• Alumni and other annual giving was up substantially;• The budget was in balance — the past fiscal yearhad actually shown a modest black figure;• And even the neighborhood was beginning tohave a new look.But as he then said, "We have repaired ourhouse, but our real task is to build a city. . . . Ourproblem is now to march forward ... to a newand greater University of Chicago."The second chapter of the Kimpton administration really got under way the next year. He feltthat the academic year ending June 30, 1955,would probably be known by historians of theUniversity as the year of the great gamble. "Notthat calculated gamble is any great novelty in thehistory of our University," he observed.It was a gamble involving the next three years.It was a gamble when the austere budget wasliberalized on faith alone, and that simultaneouslythe University launched a campaign for $32.7 million. This campaign, by current standards, mightbe considered modest, but the goal was far andaway the largest that had ever been announced bya college or university in this country. Whilegrimly determined — and even optimistic — thetrustees, faculty, and certainly the staff were sobered by the prospect, even as other private universities were heartened and emboldened tolaunch subsequent major campaigns. ChancellorKimpton concluded his remarks to the faculty thatyear by saying, "the time had come in 1954-55,with a cautious but speculative eye upon our destiny, to begin the great gamble in men, money,students, and community. Our quality, our leadership, and our freedom are at stake. As we havealways won before, so we shall win again."And so it was; and the gamble — the carefullycalculated and planned gamble — paid off. A yearlater the University was able to report:• That undergraduate enrollment had increased22 percent over the year before ;• That the neighborhood program was well andexcitingly under way;• That Dean Cogge shall and the Biological Sciences Division had, the previous year, beenable to provide for the facilities for medical education and research at no cost to the generalbudget, and had raised $1.8 million from outside sources for exclusive use in the medicalarea;• That the Law School and the Graduate Schoolof Business had been reestablished in the topflight of the country. They had been the firstareas that Chancellor Kimpton had sought tostrengthen. He had two able deans, EdwardLevi in Law and Allen Wallis in Business, towhom, though money was scarce, he had madegenerous commitments of support so that theycould assemble brilliant faculties. Further, by1955, efforts were well advanced to raisemoney for the new Law School building.• That the ongoing development program of theUniversity had yielded an all-time high; that thealumni had pledged or given $2.3 million to thecampaign; that the campaign total in gifts,grants, and pledges, including the trustees', was$20.3 million, and further, that the Universityhad been advised of a $15 million bequest — allin all, a total of over $40 million for the year.This amount was three times larger than thetotal of any previous year in the history of theUniversity. Edward L. Ryerson and Glen A.Lloyd provided outstanding leadership for thecampaign effort as successive chairmen of theBoard of Trustees. During this three-year campaign period, over $64.5 million in cash andpledges came to the University — almost doublethe initial goal.I suppose that one of the most surprising andmoving events of the campaign occurred whenJohn A. Wilson, Chairman of the Faculty Campaign Committee, advised the chancellor that thecommittee had pledged from its own membershipover $27,000 to the campaign. This was not onlyunplanned and unanticipated, but such a possibility had never been discussed — for faculty salarieswere of top priority in the campaign. It was a quietannouncement, as was the moment which followed. I'm sure that none of us who was presentwill ever forget the look on Larry's face.During his last few years in office — the finalchapter — he continued to examine and improvethe overall University, particularly the academicareas and, with the trustees and faculty, continuedto plan for the future of the University.Lawrence Kimpton had often expressed thefirm opinion that a university chancellor, or president, undoubtedly made most of his contributionsto his institution within a decade after assumingoffice. He had the courage of his convictions; and,15to the surprise of some, he resigned after nineyears.Chancellor Kimpton was clear that the future ofthe great private university primarily dedicated topure research, was touch and go. He was crystalclear in his thinking about the problems of TheUniversity of Chicago, and resolute in his determination to do all in his power to solve them.His contributions, which were enormous, shouldnot be viewed singly, but in sum, and coming, asthey did, at a crisis in the existence of the University.I know I speak for the trustees and the officersof the University in those days, and for manyothers, when I say it was a challenging, exciting,and rewarding experience to be a part of theKimpton era. He was a courageous and diplomatic leader, a warm and wonderful person to workwith and for, and a dear friend.He loved The University of Chicago and, quiteliterally, he saved it.Julian H. LeviLawrence Kimpton assumed leadership of TheUniversity of Chicago at a critical point in its history. Nine years later he could report to the trustees:As you know, I am resigning because the major goalsI set myself when appointed in April of 1951 eitherhave been reached or are in plain sight. Two of thesemay be described as external, in that they do notinvolve matters of educational policy, but I felt in1951, and I still feel, that they are basic to the welfareof the University. One was the neighborhood problem. On this, we have made such progress that thereis now real confidence in the preservation of thecommunity and the continuation of an environmentessential to the very existence of the University.The second goal I set myself was to stabilize thefinancial affairs of the University and at the sametime to increase substantially its capital funds and itsphysical plant. The campaign of 1955-58 and the activity it engendered have led to the addition of largesums to our endowment, the substantial increase inthe level of our faculty salaries, and a needed expansion in our physical facilities.He next spoke of improvements in the Professional Schools and then concluded:Next there was the College. If nothing else, itsdwindling enrollment, indicative of its isolation fromboth the educational organization everywhere else and even from the University itself, demanded action. The recognition of the problem was easier thanits solution, but by last year the University had reorganized the College into a unit effective in its articulation with the secondary schools on the one sideand our graduate divisions on the other, with a curriculum that recognizes the importance of both general education and specialized knowledge. The reorganization of the College under its present planand strong leadership was perhaps the hardest struggle of all, but the College is so central to the rest ofthe University that the result was worth any effort.In these nine years, Lawrence Kimpton savedThe University of Chicago.Lawrence Kimpton did not discover the neighborhood problem of The University of Chicago.Years earlier, Robert Hutchins in his 1945 "Stateof the University" message said:For the last fifteen years the University neighborhood has steadily deteriorated, until today, I amashamed to say, the University has the unfortunatedistinction of having the worst-housed faculty in theUnited States.And again, in 1949, Chancellor Hutchins observed:Although the matter of housing and the improvementof the University neighborhood is receiving continuing study by the Trustees, insufficient progress hasbeen made. This is one of the urgent problems of theUniversity.The issue, of course, was much more than housing. Lawrence Kimpton knew, as he often said,that a great university could not exist in a slum.Either environment would permit The Universityof Chicago to continue as a community of scholars, or it would become a collection of scholarlycommuters. A campus which worked throughoutthe day with late afternoon and evening seminars,and fostered easy relationships of colleagues overmany disciplines, all readily accessible to students, would become limited by the suburbantimetable.The neighborhood effort was never an invitingprospect. Research conducted on this campusdemonstrated the American city was unable tocontrol its cycles of growth and change, processesof community deterioration were irreversible, andattempts at management disastrous. Moreover,Lawrence Kimpton knew that these problemscould not be approached amidst institutionalschizophrenia. If tradition and conviction of TheUniversity of Chicago and its community de-16manded, as it did, the goal of a stable, interracial community of high standards, then institutional integrity required consistency towards thatend.The answers could not be simplistic. A trulystable interracial community required more thanphrases about racial equality (most often mouthedby residents of suburbia whose fervor increased indirect ratio to the distance of their place of residence from the problem). An integrated community could not exist without encouragement ofwhites as well as blacks.If public power was required to achieve theseobjectives, then the chancellor of The Universityof Chicago must be prepared to engage in thethrust and parry of public hearing and debate. Itbecame necessary for the chancellor to explain toaldermen and others that faculty at this Universitydid not accept orders as to their positions on public issues or, for that matter, on much of anythingelse.Years later, against success, it is possible tooverlook the courage and daring of these decisions. For the first few years of the neighborhood program, the University and the community bought time with faith while deteriorationcontinued. There were no assurances. City services and powers now assumed in every neighborhood did not exist. Community organizationsdid not participate in city business, planning, andcode enforcement. Legislation had to be draftedand enacted, public organization and financing putin place, and execution of the program tested inthe courts.Meanwhile, the community had to be held together. The drain on the time and energy of thechancellor was appalling. Community coordination meetings every Monday morning, a SouthEast Chicago Commission Executive meetingevery second week, and a Commission Boardmeeting once a month. To this must be addedinnumerable phone calls invariably describingsome unpleasant problem or crisis.At the beginning, the effort was celebrated andcommended as "challenging," but once thingsbegan to happen the adjective was "controversial." Powerful adversaries emerged. Throughout,Lawrence Kimpton remained steadfast, and withthe priceless help and leadership of MayorRichard J. Daley, the battle was won. In 1960, thechancellor could say:In common with other urban universities, The University of Chicago was confronted with the problemof encroaching blight. If the University was to exist, that threat had to be removed. It has been removedand we now have assurances of a stable community.Lawrence Kimpton had forged the partnershipof community and institution, citizen and government. He realized his hope "that the example ofHyde Park-Kenwood may contribute somethingto the solution of the national problem of urbandecay and particularly to alleviate the blight of ourmajor urban universities."Lawrence Kimpton brought superb talents tohis task. Despite an impressive physique and theformidable title of chancellor which he wore well,his charm and innate courtesy led everyone towant to help him. He pleaded guilty to my chargethat on some occasions he enjoyed the chancellor's title as placing him "in a dim ecclesiasticlight." He knew how to direct a wicked sense ofhumor at himself. He was a true connoisseur ofthe Limerick. He was a great outdoor chef with anawesome repertoire of complicated barbecuesauces. He would boast that his mistakes werenever small. At times he was underestimated; noone that nice could be as determined as the taskrequired. His close friends knew inner tensionswould show up in interesting ways, such as therepeated folding of the foil and paper of hispackage of cigarettes. Somehow he suffered foolsgladly although the comments thereafter wereboth pungent and funny. Some of us suspectedthat his relaxation as the wielder of an axe and apower saw in the woods at Lakeside had something to do with this. His talents as an administrator and organizer, his ability to motivate andinspire, his patience as a negotiator often obscuredhis great capacity as a leader of the Academy. Hehad taste and a flair for style and understandingof scholars and scholarship. He understood whatThe University of Chicago was all about.He said in his Inaugural Address:The actual accomplishments of the University havebeen made possible by something as intangible as amood, a mood that has pervaded it from its beginning. President Harper and his successors knewwhat a university was and what it ought to be doingand the kind of atmosphere in which the mind canwork. Academic freedom has never been in issue asa right guaranteed to our faculty; it simply has been,is, and must continue to be. Perhaps we scarcely feelits presence. Basic to that freedom is a responsibility, a high dedication to seek the truth andmake it known. Dedication to truth requires and justifies the freedom to seek it.He knew:It is the function of a great University to seek truth in17its own fashion free from outside domination andcontrol. If, in our lust for money, we lose our purpose we may become rich but we will cease to begood. Integrity is essential to all universities whetherprivately or publicly supported.Some years after Lawrence Kimpton left thechancellorship he was the speaker at the autumn1966 convocation. He said:I was crowned sixth head of this University in thisawesome chapel, and it was the highest honor thatever will or could come to me. The activities of myadministration were marked by exigency; there weresome dirty jobs to do involving money, neighborhoods and the College, and I did them, andsomehow held the place together in the process.He predicted that he would be buried in thisbuilding. He expressed the hope that, in his fashion, he had earned the right to be a permanent partof this great institution. He added:My most brilliant decision came through the realization that I had been cast in a certain role and thatwhen the role was played I should make way for anew group that could do a new job.A better definition of a selfless, dedicated servant is not possible. Larry Kimpton indeedhas earned the right to be a permanent part of thisinstitution which he led and preserved with brilliance, shared commitment, loyalty, and love.John E. SwearingenIt is my lot to speak this afternoon of LarryKimpton as a business man. While I intend to doso for the most part, I can not divorce mythoughts from Larry Kimpton, the man — my dearand devoted friend, my business associate, myconfidante, my counsellor.I suppose my first introduction to Larry camenearly twenty-five years ago when he was chancellor of The University of Chicago and I wasvice-president of Standard Oil. Our close association commenced in 1958 when Larry was electedto Standard's Board of Directors.After leaving the University in 1960, Larryjoined Standard as general manager of planning.He subsequently became vice-president and thenassistant to the chairman. While he devoted mostof his efforts in the business world to Standard, healso served with distinction as a director of the Quaker Oats Company, the Chesapeake and Ohiorailway system, and the Commonwealth EdisonCompany.Larry was a major contributor to our efforts inthe 1960s to impart new enthusiasm and directioninto Standard's affairs. The' results of our endeavors, speak for themselves. No one took morepride in our accomplishments than Larry. Deteriorating health and a desire to turn his attentionto other matters caused Larry to resign fromStandard in 1971.Larry was a very complex man, but this wasone of the characteristics that endeared him to hisfriends. On one hand he could take the pulpit anddeliver a moving funeral oration, and on the otherhe took great delight in Rabelaisian limericks. Hewas an intellectual in every sense of the word.Yet he could, and did, communicate easily withpeople in all walks of life. With equal ease andenthusiasm he could discuss Greek philosophyand Shakespeare, or recount some amusingepisode from his hunting, fishing, or boating experiences. Larry delighted in his appearance. Hewas a handsome man. One of his foibles was decorated cuffs on his tailor-made suits. Yet, he worethese suits in winter with an old hat and gabardinecoat that must have been at least twenty years oldand were among his dearest possessions.Larry's quickness of mind and wide-ranginginterests undoubtedly had great influence on hiscareer. It is evident that he never wanted to stayat one task for more than about ten years. But, ineach of the things he undertook, he became recognized as a leader and a warm and friendly personality.I should not dwell too long on my personal association with Larry. He was one of my closestand dearest friends. I know he suffered great painand inconvenience after his open-heart surgery inCleveland, but he did so in an uncomplainingmanner.While the passing of Larry Kimpton has left avoid in all of our lives, we — and I am sure Larryas well — are satisfied to know he has made hisplace in history. He will be remembered by hisfriends, and he is now free of the burden of physical infirmity.Norman MacleanAt the close today, let us try to recall something ofthe freshness and astonishment of first meeting18him — how big and tough and complicated a pieceof administrative machinery we had heard he was,an iron ball demolishing a decayed communityand a pile-driver reconstructing it on new foundations — and yet here he was simple and soft-spokenand full of stories and touches of poetry and thenother stories and certainly a limerick. Perhaps wecan also recall later stages as we came to realizethat these first pieces of him were all one pieceand that simplicity was nearly always at the bottom of his complexities.In September of 1943, Gladys Finn, one of thehalf dozen women who at any given time run theUniversity behind the scenes, told me the newdean of students wanted to see me. That early inhis career Larry Kimpton had just completed oneof his toughest and most complicated administrative jobs — chief administrative officer of the Manhattan Project that was to end with the first self-sustained nuclear chain reaction or, to translatefrom the code, with "the Italian navigator landingin the new world." Larry had been brought inwhen it looked as if the project might end insteadin a three-way civil war — between the Universitybusiness officers who wanted complete inventories of all expenditures in case the projectwas unsuccessful and a Congressional investigation would follow after the war; scientists likeFermi, Franck, and Urey who could conceive ofanother world but not of spending any time making inventories of the test tubes of this world; andGeneral Groves, representing the military andrepresenting something of a problem in his ownright.On the empty top of the new dean's desk werethe soles of a large pair of shoes. The voicesomewhere behind the soles said, "I hear youcome from Montana. Tell me about this place.Does it feel anything like the West?" I said,"Yes, the people do." He replied, "That's what Iwas thinking. You know," he said, "I ran cattleranches for seven years, and those big cattleranchers sure believe in academic freedom." Itold him he would get shot around here if he triedto enclose us in barbed wire, but he already knewthis.He stood up, big, soft-spoken as always, andslightly stooped-shouldered from listening tosmaller people. He was expensively dressed andhad a special pride in his shoes, which he liked toshine while he was talking to you, all signs of acattle rancher. He told me he had finished realfancy in Cornell with his doctoral thesis on Im-manuel Kant, one of the most complicated andabstruse of philosophers, but in the Depression there was no market for the abstruse, so he endedup as dean of a strange experimental school forboys in the High Sierras not far from his goodfriend, Death Valley Scotty. It was called DeepSprings and was a cattle ranch as well as a school,and a big part of the experiment was that the boyswere supposed to run both the school and thecattle, including buying and selling them. His jobas dean was to run both the school and the cows,while making the boys think they were. After afew months he discovered his cows were losingtheir calves so he hired a range detective and thetwo of them rode the range for nearly a year before they could prove that his own ranch foremanwas changing the brand of the school calves andselling them as his own. He was five years as deanof Deep Springs, and, as he was often to say, alladministrative jobs afterwards seemed easy. Fortwo years following this job, he helped runanother ranch. A man's thesis and his next sevenyears make a lot of difference in a man's life.Larry was so full of character that a lot ofcharacter was present any place he was, whereasmost of us are usually present only in a patch ortwo. I should like to take his first question to me,asking what this place feels like, as revealing agreat deal of what I came to know about him andespecially of how simple warmth was at the bottom of his complexities.That's the way he began big jobs — by asking,what's the essence of this thing I'm about to takeon, so it's no oddity that his doctoral degree wasin philosophy. Only he didn't say "essence" tome, he said, "What's this thing feel like?" As aphilosopher, then, his essences were psychological and even had somewhat poetical qualities. Iread from the opening of his last annual report tothis faculty:It may or may not be true that every great university has a kind of Geist, or character, or unity; I onlyknow that this one has. As I read our history, we hadit the day our doors opened, and there has been nosignificant change since then. All sorts of people,including me, have tried to monkey with it, but nobody can win. One may like or dislike it, but there itis.The opening of his very first annual report tothe faculty is like this last one we have just read —in quest of the essence or geist of our University."The greatness of The University of Chicago hascome about by its adherence to three principleswhich together constitute our tradition." Thesethree principles immediately turn into three geists19or spirits: "the spirit of pioneering," "the spirit ofoneness," and "the spirit of great men andwomen," with the only relevant question, "Is hegood?" Surely the trustees gave embodiment tothese three spirits when they selected HannaGray as the next president of his University.But his practical extensions of the geists of thisUniversity did not always lead to universal happiness. Once you insist that a place be true to itselfyou can do away with a lot of stuff it has picked upin passing. The geist of his last report — the geist ofgeists — is our "passionate dedication to pure research and scholarship." Harvard and Yale beganas colleges and grew into universities; we areunique in being born a university, and we cannot,even if we try, long alter our birthright. Once youhave settled the problem of your identity, you canget very tough and bring in the bulldozer. With ascoop, out went downtown College, and anotherremoved the Roundtable, and high on the dump-truck he leaded an autonomous college cut offfrom the University and research and scholarship.No doubt some of these severances representedpersonal losses to some of us, but these majorchanges have stuck for twenty years and twentyyears is a long time for a university president to bein touch with the spirit.There is at least one other major part of his owngeist or character revealed in his opening remarkto me, "Tell me, does this place feel anything likethe West to you?" We sometimes forget (even failto note) the most obvious — in Larry's case, howwestern he was. His first name was Lawrencebecause his mother and father fell in love at thestate university in Lawrence, Kansas. He was anundergraduate in California and a graduate student in the East, but it was a midwestern university, which he never attended, that was his love ofloves and it is in the walls of this chapel, after hismany travels, where his ashes lie. It was his loveof loves because when he went in quest of its spirithe found it always pointed West — "the spirit," hesaid, "of pioneering."When he went in quest of his own literary style,that, too, he found in the West. He was, as we allknow, one of the finest of storytellers, but hisbasic narrative training was as a teller of cowboystories. And he continued his practice-exercisesthroughout life. Every time I stayed for dinner heread for an hour from the stories of Charlie Russell, the famous cowboy painter, stories we bothcame to know by heart, and he read as beautifullyas he wrote and he wrote one of the finest American prose styles ever written by a university pres ident. Few university presidents rise above "thecampaign-fund style," which, when translatedinto Japanese drama, may be called "the no-style." You can hear the essence of Larry's stylein one of his first remarks to me: "Cattlemen surebelieve in academic freedom" — a combination ofAmerican and academic that was to become histrademark. I read again from his last opening tothe faculty. "All sorts of people, including me,have tried to monkey with our character, but nobody can win. We may like or dislike it, but thereit is." It is a simple style made in America forwork, but he was able to achieve in writing whatmost of us only hope to: to put pieces of ourselvestogether into one piece, in his case, his simplicityand his complexity, his warmth and his toughness,even a little of his poetry and a lot of his humor.Here at the end I shall read the end of his lastreport to this faculty. He tied all the report to thetrip the trustees had persuaded him to take up theTennessee River that spring with Marcia and hisbeloved boat. It was a wonderful trip, and, since Iaccompanied him part way, I know he was right insaying he spent a lot of time "musing" about theUniversity — not thinking, he insisted, just "musing" on the many parallels between the course ofthe great river and the manifest destiny of ourUniversity and the twistings and turnings of hisown life. So at the end he is telling several parables at once:The Tennessee is a beautiful river; it windsthrough open country and then enters deep canyonswith ominous bluffs. Occasionally, wide tributariesenter the river, and here one navigates carefully lesthe mistake the stream for the river itself. There areother hazards, of course. Below the surface lurkstumps and waterlogged debris, and occasionally theboat hits one with resultant damage and loss of pride.And always ahead loom the gigantic dams as obstacles, but there are locks through them, and one hasonly to moor carefully to prevent the turbulencefrom capsizing the craft.We had a good compass, accurate maps, plenty ofpower in the motors, and the people of the countrywere friendly. When we started in early spring, thewater was dark from the rains, but it cleared gradually, becoming a bright blue, as we approached thepoint at which the Tennessee joins the mighty Ohio.It takes an unconscionable time to go from Knoxvilleto Paducah because of the twistings and turnings ofthe river, but the river knows where it is going, andthat way is west.His last official words to this faculty, then,were, "... but the river knows where it is going,and that way is west."20So he thought about this University somethinglike a poetical philosopher, and he wrote about itsomething like an American poet. In its walls mayhis own spirit rest in peace.MEMORIAL RESOLUTIONThe trustees of The University of Chicago takethis opportunity to record their profound sorrowover the loss of Lawrence Alpheus Kimpton,former chancellor and honorary trustee, who diedon October 31, 1977, in his sixty-seventh year.Larry Kimpton was a philosopher and educational statesman; a rebuilder; a man of great personal charm, humility, intelligence, dedication,and tough common sense.Mr. Kimpton was born in Kansas City, Missouri on October 7, 1910. He attended publicschool in Kansas City, entered Stanford University at the age of sixteen and was elected to PhiBeta Kappa in his junior year. After obtaining aB.A. and a M.A. at Stanford, he went to CornellUniversity, where in 1935, he was awarded aPh.D. degree after completing his thesis on astudy of Immanuel Kant. From 1936 to 1941, heserved as dean and then as director of DeepSprings, a small experimental school in the HighSierras, where in addition to his other duties, hemanaged the school's 1,000-head cattle ranch.Upon leaving Deep Springs, he spent a year as anoperator and part owner of a cattle ranch inNevada, but then returned to a life of academia byaccepting a position as dean of the College of Liberal Arts at the University of Kansas City.On July 1, 1943, Mr. Kimpton joined the"Metallurgy Project" at The University ofChicago as associate chief administrative officer,and within a short time, became the chief administrative officer. The following year, he becamedean of students and professor of philosophy atthe University, in addition to his administrativeduties for the atomic bomb project. On July 1,1946, he became vice-president and dean of faculties, and served in that position until September 1,1947. He then accepted a position at StanfordUniversity as dean of students and professor ofphilosophy and education and remained there forthree years.On August 1, 1950, Mr. Kimpton returned toThe University of Chicago as its vice-presidentfor development and on April 13, 1951, upon the unanimous recommendation of a faculty-trusteecommittee, he was elected the sixth chief executive of the University, succeeding RobertMaynard Hutchins.Among the objectives he set for himself was theimprovement of the University's financial affairs,the reestablishment of the attractiveness of theundergraduate program and the rebuilding of theUniversity's neighborhood.After a few years of planned austerity, the University' s financial position improved, revenuesexceeded expenditures, and badly needed additional funds were obtained through developmentefforts. Substantial progress was then made in improving faculty salaries.Under his administration, guidelines wereestablished for the reconstruction of the undergraduate program. Chancellor Kimpton's firm andpragmatic leadership contributed to the success ofthis major reorganization.Perhaps his greatest achievement was in hisrole as the rebuilder of the University's neighborhood. An unprecedented attack was directedagainst the encroaching blight that almost overwhelmed the community. As president of theSouth East Chicago Commission, he initiated aredevelopment program that eventually becamethe model for the rest of the nation.When Mr. Kimpton was satisfied after nineyears of service that his major goals had been accomplished, he submitted his resignation as chancellor in September, 1960.He subsequently joined Standard Oil Company(Indiana), as a vice-president and director. Healso served on the Board of Quaker Oats, andChesapeake & Ohio Railroad. On January 14,1971, Mr. Kimpton was elected honorary trusteeof The University of Chicago.Mr. Kimpton's special qualities were recognized by others. He received honorary doctorates from several colleges and universities, as wellas an award of honorary fellow from StanfordUniversity, where he also served as a trustee. TheFrench government awarded him the French Legion of Honor. He served as trustee of The Newberry Library, LaRabida Sanitarium, the Museumof Science and Industry, and the Robert A. TaftInstitute of Government, and as chairman of theBoard of Visitors of Tulane University.In June 1961 , on the occasion of The Universityof Chicago's award to Mr. Kimpton of an honorary degree as Doctor of Humane Letters, thenChancellor George Wells Beadle acknowledgedthe University's appreciation for his wisdom and21skills in working with people of all walks of life inbringing the University safely through one of itsseverest crises.Larry Kimpton will long be remembered for hisgentle art of persuasion and for the great couragehe displayed in very difficult times.Mr. Chairman, I move that we express our deep sympathy and our University' s appreciationby a rising vote and that copies of this memorialbe transmitted to members of Mr. Kimpton' s fam-ily.Unanimously approved by the Board of TrusteesNovember 10, 197722THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO RECORDVICE PRESIDENT FOR PUBLIC AFFAIRSRoom 200, Administration Building181o ZT I om £ c ?3D P 52 > -n W 3POSTAGAIDTNO.31 o(03N0•^ o m Z«* r- oco 3