Like my friend Norman Lamarra, I made a temporary
foray into physiology while an engineering graduate student at UCLA. Working
with my advisor Don Wiberg in Jay Bellville's lab, I came to know Brian and his
colleagues in the respiratory control community: Sue Ward (who supervised my
first directed study in physiology), Denham Ward (who later became my advisor),
Rich Casaburi (who served with Brian on my dissertation committee), Chi-Sang
Poon, George Swanson, Karl Wasserman, others whose names have faded.
Everyone who encountered Brian Whipp has some lasting memories. Here are some
of mine:
I was one of three students who attended a weekly graduate seminar on
respiratory physiology at UCLA in the early 1980s. It was a small room, and
Brian's imposing presence was magnified under such circumstances. On one
occasion he asked how a subject would respond to a continued decrease in PO2.
My unfortunate colleague (I wasn't me, really!) said "The system defends
against that." Brian's eyes lit up like Christmas morning. "The
system deFENDS against it, does it? The system deFENDS against it? How, pray
tell, does the system deFEND against it?" And thereupon we began a
struggle to find a more precise expression.
Such occurrences were not rare. It is important to note, however, that there is
a wide gulf between the pedagogical art as Brian Whipp practiced it and the
sneering, overbearing, abusive style seen in many imitators. Brian was never
cruel, but he maintained high intellectual standards. And although I think it
is clear he enjoyed his role as examiner, I never got the impression that he
was motivated by anything more the sheer pleasure of teaching and learning something
that matters. He was what Bronowski called a "guardian of integrity".
I found being his student exhilarating. When "off-duty", so to speak,
he was kind and funny.
One of the first times I was in Brian's cozy office at UCLA, I managed to knock
the fire extinguisher off the wall. Brian was mildly amused by my nervous
fumbling, but the mood improved dramatically when he announced his approval of
the draft I had asked him to review, and his unsolicited praise for my writing
was an unexpected bonus. One did not take Brian's approval for granted.
I was once in a large lecture hall with first-year dental students when one
student asked Brian an imprecise, and worse, off-topic question. He stood
rock-still, peered intently in her direction as if formulating an answer,
turned, took two steps back, and continued the lecture. No retort could have
been more expressive.
I shared with Brian a love of words and language. (Being American, however, I
could not match his erudition.) At one point in my dissertation, I
characterized the shunt fraction as "blood flow circumventing the
lung". Now, it occurred to me as I wrote it that "circumventing"
was a bit of a pun, but correct and appropriate usage. I couldn't help but
smile when Brian's review copy was returned with the word circled and
"Excellent!" written in the margin.
Brian and I once sat in the bar of the Westwood Marquis and discussed jazz. I
expounded on the virtues of Miles Davis and Bill Evans; Brian of course
countered with Lee Morgan and Bud Powell. As usual, he was right.
That world has vanished for me. I went to work in space exploration, Denham
went to Rochester, Brian and Sue
returned to the UK.
Oddly enough, Norman and I worked together at JPL before he returned to his
entrepreneurial roots in radar. I continued so support TIDAL while it was
heavily used in Denham's lab; I have no idea if it's still being used anywhere
now that he's retired. (It's on SourceForge if anyone's interested.)
In 1989 Brian presented me with a copy of W.V. Quine's "Quiddities".
Inside is inscribed "Food for thought--for a thinker." It is one of
my most prized possessions.
So long, Brian. Thank you for everything. My condolences to Sue, Laura, and
Brian.