Though I hadn't seen or communicated with him for a very long time, the knowledge of Richard Herrnstein's passing in 1994, stirred up many fond memories and brought on a flood of tears. Today, as I recollect the few years that he was a part of my life, and look at an old photograph, I'm reminded of the gentle man with the sweet smile, bushy eyebrows and soft, yet, penetrating eyes. It is not difficult, even after more than 20 years, to conjure up my former boss and friend.

Dick Herrnstein entered my life in 1975 when I was a very impressionable young woman. Having worked at a string of secretarial positions in unrelated and not terribly stimulating situations at Harvard, I was ready for a challenge and a change. At the time, I was dabbling in psychology courses in the Extension School and very intrigued by behavioral psychology. When a job opened in the psychology department working for R. J. Herrnstein, I applied with trepidation, was excited to be hired, and a tad intimidated when I discovered my office was one door down the hall from B.F. Skinner's. It gave me no end of delight to hear this icon of behavioral psychology referred to as "Fred" by my very own boss! I didn't realize until later that R. J. Herrnstein was, of course, an icon is his own right.

Having begun working for Dr. Herrnstein after the days when the Students for a Democratic Society, a radical left organization, had plagued his every move on campus, even following him into the elevator and up to his office, it took me a while to realize that the professor was a rather controversial, even infamous, international, celebrity as a result of his writings on the Intelligence Quotient. Later, as I came to know his research, writing, and character, it angered me to think that there were those who did not understand his scholarly integrity and need to publish information which he believed would benefit those who were adversely affected by the IQ measurement. R.J. Herrnstein was an empiricist and his integrity as a researcher is unquestioned. His colleague and friend, Charles Murray, described him as "the prototype of the scholar - astonishingly erudite, meticulous in his research, with a touch of genius in his insights." It is difficult to bring the public information which may not be palatable or politically acceptable, and he was definitely the victim of a "shoot the messenger" mentality. Those were difficult times for him, his family, and friends. I felt so very privileged to work for a man of his intellect, integrity and energy.

As I write this remembrance, the soothing classical tones from public radio provide a background to my work. This is a habit I learned from Dick. My office adjoined his and his door was always open unless he was in conference. It was his habit to do his writing with classical music for background. I remember thinking this a tremendous perk - being able to work to music -- and was always a little resentful when someone would come to visit him and the door would be closed - right in the middle of a symphony! Whenever I retreat to my own office, the first thing I do is to turn the dial to NPR; the second is to smile at my good fortune to have learned the habit from Dick Herrnstein.

Dick was the first person I worked for who showed an interest in me as a person. It impressed me considerably that each morning, with coffee cup in hand, he would sit for a moment or two in the chair across from my desk to ask how I was. Most times, this was a short ritual, but occasionally, a topic or question would surface and he would take the time to talk things through. He showed me that, as important as his work was, I was important too. There were times when our conversations would be quite serious. When asked, he would not hesitate to advise me on career and even life decisions.

Dick was Hungarian by descent, a bond we shared. He recounted many charming tales of his mother (whom he adored) and the food she cooked. I believe his father was Jewish and remember hearing about some difficulties between his parents over mixing sour cream with meats, as is so common in Hungarian cooking. Dick loved the fact that I could make traditional Hungarian foods and pastries, which I shared with him on special occasions. Because we were both Hungarians with true Hungarian temperaments, the occasional disagreement would lead to tempers flaring. His temper was rarely evident and slow to rise, but when it surfaced, there would be a red face and harsh words. With two of us prone to this, some interesting moments arose between us. As is typical with the Hungarian temperament, the moment would pass, and the offending one would apologize quickly and all would be forgiven. There were times that I see (in hindsight) that I may have taken our little quarrels beyond any traditional boss-employee boundaries. He never held that against me.

My other impression of Dick Herrnstein was that of consummate husband and father. He was totally in love with his wife, Susan. It was so evident in his behavior and just the twinkle in his eyes when she would call or come into the office. He always called her "Bright Eyes" or "Susie Q" and would look so forward to their lunches together. She had been his secretary earlier on and was a wonderful resource for me as well as a support and co-conspirator, if you will. They were very much a team. Dick was also a very good and proud father - sharing tales about his two boys Max and Jimmy and his daughter Julia. Many others in his position might have let work dominate. I truly believe he had his priorities straight - home and family first.

I remember some tales (though they are now fuzzy memories) of two of his high school buddies, Zohra Lampert, of stage and screen, and Hal Linden (we all know him as "Barney Miller"). Dick became friends with these two while attending the High School for the Performing Arts in New York. Some may not know that he was a violinist in those days. Occasionally he would receive a call from Zohra or Hal. This would, of course, make my day.

Dick Herrnstein died in his early 60s of a disease (lung cancer) he should never have had. He wasn't a smoker, to my knowledge. I wrote to Susan afterwards to convey my condolences and my abiding respect and affection for this wonderful man. Susan told me that he was able to finish his last book before the end -- this made him happy. She also mentioned that he often still spoke of my Hungarian pastries -- this made me happy.

Virginia Koster lives, currently, on a variable, intermittent schedule of positive reinforcement on the plains of South Dakota.

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