Unruffled Humanist

When their tutor first opened the front door, the three students were dumbfounded. Inside, the house was bedlam. Assorted children were attempting to catch several stray dogs apparently intent upon the family's female beagle. A second glance however, was enough to reassure the tutees. Unruffled and majestic in the doorway stood Myron Piper Gilmore. Bidding them a cordial welcome, he laughed the slightly apologetic laugh of a man who, though not immune to crisis, can almost always rise above it. Perhaps for this very ability, he is now a full professor and Chairman of the History Department.

It is easy to see why these tutees found Gilmore reassuring, and why his current history course is so popular. Renaissance and Reformation--better known as "Ren and Ref"--overflowed two lecture halls this fall before it finally found one large enough. During class one of Gilmore's hands inevitably slips into a pocket while the other juggles a piece of chalk. His calmly-delivered lectures do not proceed chronologically, but roam topically instead.

Yet behind Gilmore's nonchalance lies a studied approach to his subject. He carries on a discussion program himself in sections once a week. This faith in sections is a carry-over from his own college days at Amherst. Gilmore came to the University in 1932 for his doctorate, and except for several excursions to Europe and the war years, he has been here ever since. Yet he still preserves his respect for a small college's close tie between teacher and pupil.

For all his interest in teaching, Gilmore is also a quiet and persistent scholar. His particular bent is the relation of Humanism to Renaissance political and social thought. Currently he is preparing a study on "Freedom and Determinism in Renaissance Historians." Because his work has dealt mostly with intellectual history, Gilmore was particularly pleased several years ago when Professor Langer approached him with the request that he write the Renaissance volume for the "Langer Series." "It gave me a chance to explore all sides of the field," he says. The result was The World of Humanism. Along with a copy of the Gutenberg Bible, insured for $500,000, it appeared last month on television. Omnibus devoted a Sunday afternoon program to the Renaissance, and Gilmore's book was exhibited as a "leading modern source."

Yet Gilmore feels that fate keeps him from indulging his teaching and scholarly interests as much as he would like. His particular nemesis has been his administrative ability. At present, head of the History Department, he has also served as chairman of History and Literature and on numerous Faculty committees. When World War II broke out, it was inevitable that this ability would not be ignored, and he was soon commissioned into the Navy. For once, however, Uncle Sam did not turn a cook into a barber. In 1942 he assumed command of an LMD --a Large Mahogany Desk in its Washington Intelligence Office.

With the war over, Gilmore doffed his Lieutenant- Commander's uniform and once again began to combine dark suits with his characteristic loafers. As Senior Tutor in Lowell House until 1950, he resumed his interest in sports, and played squash for the House team. Even today students often speak to him informally in the swimming pool shower room at the Indoor Athletic Building. It was at Lowell, too, that he became a firm friend of Master Eliott Perkins '23.

One winter day, in pursuit of sport, Gilmore and Perkins went ice skating together on the frozen Charles. Gilmore trod upon thin ice. Waist-level and below, in fact, his usual composure was seriously threatened. But from the waist up, Myron Gilmore was still unruffled. Characteristically, he was able to rise above most of the crisis. He had fallen only halfway through.