Westfall Memorial

Every person here today has their own reasons to be present. I do not pretend to know or even be aware of those reasons. All I can do is to express my own feelings about Sam Westfall.

I met Sam seven years ago, when interviewing for the faculty position I currently enjoy. I was in awe of his reputation as a scholar, but he put me at ease by his down-to-earth manner and unpretentious style. He welcomed me into the department as he retired after serving Indiana University for 26 years. As an emeritus member, he made it abundantly clear that he would not -- in his words -- "interfere" with the operation of the department. We were left to our own devices.

But he was there, filling in wherever he was needed-- advising students, guest lecturing, attending colloquia, serving as an elder statesman. He took no public recognition for his still-essential role in the collective life of the department.

The department's star rose when Sam joined the faculty in 1963. He, along with Ed Grant, defined the center of gravity in the history of science program at Indiana. Like twin suns, regal yet related, they drew students into their powerful orbit. Generations of graduates learned from them. In terms of Ph.D. production, Sam was the all-time leader among the department's historians, supervising more than 15 doctorates over his career.

Everyone knows that Sam was a passionate scholar. He approached historical research with the zeal of a true believer in science, and he was not daunted by the enormity of the task he set for himself as Newton's biographer. But Newton and science did not occupy all of his time.

I was lucky to get to know Sam as a neighbor and a friend too. One of the ways he expressed his zest for life was through gardening. He was truly a child of the earth: happily tending his special plot, sowing seeds, watching plants grow, sharing the fruits of nature and his labor. Every spring we organized an expedition to a local horse farm to haul manure for making compost. Tom Gieryn would usually accompany us. As we forked the steamy piles into the truck, our conversation ranged widely, from the latest research in science studies to contemplation of what our boots were covered in. That's when I discovered that Sam had an irreverent -- perhaps even wicked -- sense of humor!

Sam also knew about sorrow. Lord knows, he persevered through his own infirmities, time and again. And it made him stronger and more able to lend his own strength to others. I will never forget the help he gave to me a year ago during my darkest hour.

I will miss Sam's unique voice. He was blessed with a truly distinctive one. Its rhythms and cadences were instantly recognizable. He possessed an authoritative, direct, and economical style, using the minimum amount of words for maximum dramatic impact. In both speech and writing he had a gift for vivid description that few could match. Although his live voice is stilled, he is able to speak through his books. When I read his work, I find it easy to imagine that Sam is talking directly to me.

In his life and his work, Sam wasn't much interested in delving into questions of personal motives or psychological explanations. In one of the few explicit statements on such matters, however, he wrote that, as he approached the figure of Isaac Newton closer, the farther away he receded. In the end, Sam thought, Newton's life eluded his attempts to capture it fully. The man remained a mystery.

Sam expressed a profound truth about all human relationships -- at their essence they defy reduction into anything else other than what they are. And that is what makes them so precious.

Every one of us shared in Sam's life. His presence on the earth enriched all of us. I will remember his unquenchable energy. As a scholar, he ascended the heights of intellectual creativity. As a teacher, he helped to release the talents of all those who were his students. As a human being, he shared his humanity freely.

Although the spirit of Sam Westfall has passed from time into eternity, his life remains a work of art, destined to live in memory and in history, providing inspiration to all.

Remarks prepared for the Westfall Memorial Service, Indiana University, 6 December 1996, by James H. Capshew.