- Bruce Volpe on James Douglas Woolery, June 13, 2026: “During a time of real winters in New Haven—among the emerging remnants of the Sheff, above Grove and up Prospect—I met Jamie Woolery on the way to the new Kline Tower. We were pals in a new major, molecular biology and biophysics, and Jamie was a wonder. I had never met such a skeptical, questioning person, so committed to learning everything there was to learn. Thinking about him I am reminded of one of the two stellar faculty heads of that new department: the inimitable Harold Morowitz, whose application of thermodynamics to the origin of life was as startling as anything in the seminars by Sewall or Giamatti or Sculley. The other chair was Fred Richards, who had just solved the crystal structure of ribonuclease—something that slipped by me but probably not Jamie. But to keep on point, it was the search for a new course that kept Jamie and me together and on the lookout—and we found what we were looking for in Clem Markert. Professor Markert, another remarkable faculty star (who had served in the Lincoln Brigade), had written a piece for one of the Yale magazines about genetic manipulation for the ethical management of the world’s food supply to withstand climate pressure. We persuaded him to teach us in a tutorial style about these and other subjects. I can’t remember what course listing we proposed but Jamie and I had an extraordinary semester learning about these emerging arenas before their time and, for me, beginning to learn how to think. Jamie Woolery became Jeremy Irons. I lost track of him except for an occasional phone call, enough to know that he had kept up a friendship with Professor Markert (a feat I envied and admired), that he had bicycled across the country, and that he had left experimental science and become a psychiatrist and a poet, and, not surprisingly, gained success and acclaim in both new pursuits, and likely in everything else he touched. I wish I had kept up with him. He was a terrific guy.” July 2, 2026
- on James Douglas Woolery, June 13, 2026: “Jamie was my roommate for all four years at Yale. We were joined in our sophomore year by Karl Ameriks, Andy Armbrust and Hughes Norton. Eternally curious, Jamie wanted to know and learn about everything. He was an auto-didact who taught himself Greek, Higher and Applied Mathematics, among many other subjects. When he wanted to learn about something, he dedicated himself whole-heartedly to the subject. He had thousands of books. His interests were varied — from football, especially Yale football and the San Francisco 49ers, to poetry, from bird watching to religion, from mathematics to hiking. He had a great sense of humor and loved to laugh. He was especially proud of all his sons’ accomplishments. Although we lived on different coasts, we kept in close touch for over 60 years. He never missed a birthday. He was a force of nature, and he will be missed.” June 28, 2026
- on Class Notes, Mar-Apr 2025: “Aside to Stew Palmer: All those years down the hall from you in Hawthorne, I don’t believe I knew we were classmates. Congratulations on all counts, especially retirement. -Steve R.” March 17, 2026
- on William John Stanisich, December 29, 2025: “I didn’t know Bill at college, but got to know him through the essay I wrote (co-wrote, to be exact) for our 50th reunion class book (the link is above). Bill was a warm and thoughtful guy. My wife and I went to one of his shows, and later I stayed with Bill and Jim over a weekend in San Francisco. They were super-hospitable. Bill took me out for a walk. Zooming along the sidewalk in his motorized wheelchair, he explained some of the architecture of the city to me. I had hoped to visit him one more time a few months ago, but he wasn’t up to it.” March 17, 2026
- on William John Stanisich, December 29, 2025: “If many of you don’t remember ever having seen Bill on the Yale campus, it may be because he spent so much time in New York, watching operas at the Met, waiting in line for standing-room tickets for those operas or shuttling back and forth on that decrepit old New Haven RR. I met Bill in our freshman year and was swept away by his joyous enthusiasms (in a setting where so many freshmen seemed prematurely afflicted with world-weariness and wariness.) Bill and I shared apartments two summers in New York, and then went our separate ways after graduation. In those days before email, Facebook, and cheap long distance rates, it was easy to lose track. We reconnected about ten years ago, when I visited Bill and his husband, Jim, in their beautiful home in San Francisco. (His passion for that city was as boundless as it was for opera.) Despite debilitating pain from a back injury and an ever-spiraling assortment of other health issues, he maintained an outlook as zesty and infectious as it was when we were both 18. In addition to Jim, Bill leaves behind a dazzling array of visionary watercolors and inspiring memories of a life well-lived for all who knew him.” March 10, 2026
- on William Byron Evans, October 13, 2025: “Bill, Louie Papp and I were the three students from the Utica area who matriculated to Yale in 1965. Bill introduced himself to me as such at our 50th, and I subsequently visited his his gallery in Jay, New York later that year, when I bought a cold Adirondack winter landscape. I wrote bill in 2024 that I had missed seeing him at our 55th, and wanted him to know how much I was enjoying the painting. He replied with a photo of a recent painting. The guy had talent.” March 9, 2026
- on Richard Stuart Lannamann, January 6, 2026: “It was my honor to propose Rick for membership on the Guild of Carillonneurs advisory board—and what a pleasure when he gracefully accepted. He brought intelligence, wisdom, and wit to our little group. As he did everywhere. Here is a picture of a recent visit to Harkness tower where I met with Rick. I had just played the bells, and Rick and I had played a duet on the practice clavier as well. ” January 29, 2026
- on Richard Stuart Lannamann, January 6, 2026: “As an Alley Cat (class of ’69), I knew Rick Lannamann well during the bright college years. But we kept in fairly close touch in the many years after that because of the type of person he exemplified. He was without a doubt the single most “goodness filled” individual anyone could encounter. He brimmed with integrity, overflowed with generosity, and oozed the milk of human kindness from every pore. He was very easy to like and, for Kate, easy to love. That essence of Rick we now miss dearly.” January 19, 2026
- on Richard Stuart Lannamann, January 6, 2026: “I vividly recall how Rick and I used to sit cheek by jowl on the carillon bench playing “Bright College Years” and “The Whiffenpoof Song,” the latter with the sorrowful phrase, “gone and now forgotten with the rest,” which I recall Rick, sitting on the bass side of the bench, used to play slowly and mournfully on the lower bells.” January 19, 2026
- on When I brought Maharishi to Yale: “Namaste David. Nice to hear from you and I look forward to connecting on Zoom. Thanks so much for reaching out to the group. Michael Folz and I attended Maharishi’s talk in Woolsey on Nov. 28, 1966. I will email you an entry from my scant journal of the time wherein I reference seeing him speak. I’ll also include the Yale Daily News report of his visit (if you have not seen it). I was deep in the middle of Professor Norvin Hein’s terrific course on modern saints of India (Sri Ramakrishna; Ramana Maharshi; Rabindranath Tagore and Mahatma Gandhi) – so of course wanted the opportunity to see a holy man from India. I did not connect with TM but instead with Sant Kirpal Singh in 1968 – and continue those daily practices some 57 years later. All best – Kent Bicknell ’69 (later ’70) P.S. I have that issue of Look magazine – and it is fun to identify various friends on the cover!” September 7, 2025