In Memoriam

Richard B. Campbell, Jr.

Dick Campbell died on August 11, 2019. Here is a remembrance by his classmate and roommate John More.

Remembrance

by John More ’64

May 8, 2020

Dick (“Milt”) Campbell
1964 graduation

Dick (known to some as “Milt”) Campbell was a memorable person. He loved to defy categories and in doing so he left a mark wherever he went. At Taft School he loved to present teachers with provocative arguments. At Yale he probed the boundaries of philosophy with Professor Brand Blanchard. He was always intellectually curious.  Our classmate Tim Breen tells me that when they were both in Yale Graduate School, Dick revealed to him that he was translating Plato’s dialogues on his own so he could better understand Plato’s philosophy.

At the same time, Dick was down to earth, enjoying partying and hijinks.  He was born and raised on Park Avenue, but never fit into dressing or acting like a Park Avenue type. In fact, he was generally somewhat disheveled. Throughout his life Dick loved interacting with people on all levels of society. He was just as happy exploring a philosophical issue with one of his fellow chess players in the parks of New York City as arguing with his Taft and Yale classmates over some arcane topic. He was devoted to Yale football and for years came back for games, as remembered to me by Chris Getman whom he often joined.

Dick could also go overboard. One of my favorite stories about Dick occurred at Yale. He had written an excessively long paper on Kierkegaard for Prof. Brand Blanchard. Dick strongly felt that a paper of the shorter, reasonable length required by the professor would not sufficiently explore the subject. Professor Blanchard, however, was not persuaded and reduced Dick’s A+ grade for not following directions.  Dick was quite offended and so, for a month or so, whenever he encountered the professor around the campus, he would walk behind him, mimicking Professor Blanchard’s slightly lame gait. I was always surprised he was not caught doing it.

Tragically Dick’s life was upended by a horrific traffic accident in which he lost his beloved wife Polly. Dick himself was in a coma for a year and only survived because he had devoted himself to maintaining the highest levels of physical fitness — another of his passions. He also lost ownership of his wonderful St. Bernard while in the coma, which he himself said was his last connection with his former self.

Dick never really recovered personally from the accident and his losses. He struggled to reach what he remembered as his intellectual capabilities. He lost his teaching job in Oklahoma. He lost his ability to transfer his thoughts and research to paper. So he never published the philosophical papers and books that he seemed destined to produce based on his earlier promise while at Yale. In fact, to my knowledge, he never held a job again.

After his return to New York City, he did keep up some of his Yale connections. As noted above, he continued attending Yale football matches. He went back for Taft reunions. He joined my wife Livy and myself for the infamous Yale-Harvard tie game.

During the initial period of his return to New York City from Oklahoma, Dick ended up for a time living in a shelter almost as a street person, entertaining himself by playing chess in the parks, engaging in research in the public libraries, and communicating with his beloved mentor, Professor Blanchard. His explanation to me at the time for how he lived was that he did not want to depend on his family’s wealth. Sadly, eventually most of his friends lost touch with him. 

Dick spent his later years living in an apartment in Brooklyn. Apparently he became a fixture in the neighborhood. Another classmate, Jim Barton, remembers Dick telling him that he was a “bit crazy” but that he was protected by his neighbors. According to Dick, whenever he was out on the streets acting crazy, they would get help for him to be returned to his apartment.

May Dick rest in peace.