I met Professor Gar in 2012 as a student in his “History of Genetics” course. His curiosity and openness to new ideas struck me as standing apart from many other professors, and I sought him out in his office hours. For those of us who remember, his office was at the end of a narrow corridor in the Rebstock biology building. Passing under the doorframe, you would be faced with a wall of books, some fresh and white, some old and yellowed, ranging from Darwin to Marx. Turn right, past a stack of journals, and you would now be hemmed in on both sides by more bookshelves. “Hello?” I called. From the deep nethers of the office, behind yet another bookshelf, Gar’s voice invited me further into his world. 

In that room, Gar spoke about his long and neverending journey for knowledge and his deep love of humanity. I was just starting my journey to become a doctor, and was already disillusioned at the disconnect between the professed noble aspirations and the elitism and narrow-mindedness of the medical field. 

 He refused to silo science from the world it inhabits, and gave me affirmation that the questions I had begun to ask had been asked by many before me; that it is not only possible but right to immerse oneself deeply and simultaneously in a skilled craft and in the fight for justice. 

I had just returned from my first trip to Palestine, was unpacking all that I had seen; I was in the process of unlearning all that I had absorbed growing up in the United States. He recounted marching behind Dr. King in Alabama, his time in Cuba with an international cohort, how these and other experiences had opened his mind to other ways of living. I asked him questions such as, how do you keep fighting for a just world, when the forces of injustice are so powerful? How do you maintain the optimism and hope you need? 

I do not remember his exact answers, but he spoke of stories and people, of deep relationships and love, of always learning. 

After graduating, I maintained a correspondence with him, visiting him every few years in St. Louis. My last visit with him was in 2021, after he had downsized to a smaller office—he did not want to leave his partner and colleagues with the work of cataloguing his extensive life! He had the same optimistic energy for a just future as when I first met him, and surely as when he first walked into Wash U. 

Today I am a practicing pediatrician in Massachusetts. I split my time between seeing patients and organizing in working communities, working for a more just world. Professor Gar continues to inspire me every day.  May he rest in peace and power. 

I draw very sparingly from the Jewish rituals I was told about growing up as they weren’t practiced at home. BUT, I think the ancestors mostly got it right about grieving. Sitting shiva in the immediate aftermath gives us time to reflect and an excuse not to function in the face of the drastically changed reality.

Lighting a candle (the -zheit) every year (the Yahr-) in memory is both a soothing tribute and an acknowledgement that such anniversaries are hard.

I will light a candle on this anniversary and think of his ongoing legacy.

The other reflexive Jewish expression is “May his memory be a blessing.” Well, neither he nor I  would have much truck with blessing, but how about, instead,  “May his memory give us joy.” 

 It does for me.

I met Gar in the fall of 1972, shortly after I arrived at Washington University to begin graduate studies in psychology. We quickly became good friends, a friendship which strengthened over the next 50 plus years. We shared a common interest in running, music, politics, and martinis, just to name a few things. During my graduate studies, Gar would allow me generous access to his office where I could study without interruption or distraction. In the afternoon, we often would go jogging together (towards the end of the run, I would put on a burst of speed and get back to the gym first, which really annoyed him).

Over time, I met my husband Jack and Gar met his husband Larry, two wonderful people. One of my best memories of all of us is that Gar and I would go to the symphony and then afterwards the four of us would meet at Gar and Larry’s house for drinks and then go to Hodak’s for dinner, what we all referred to as “Hodak’s and martinis”. This became a much loved ritual and continued for many years.

Gar was a truly wonderful and valued friend. Our friendship lasted over 50 years and although that sounds like a long time, the years went by much too quickly. The times he and I, later joined by Jack and Larry, spent together are among the most memorable and enjoyable I have. His love of music and academics, his encyclopedic knowledge, and his real compassion and humanity were just a few of the qualities about him that I valued in our friendship and which continue to inspire me. I will always remember him for the wonderful person he was.

I just learned of Gar's passing and was saddened by the news, though thinking of him brought a smile to my face. I was a graduate student in a different department in the late 1970s, but wound up taking two courses with Gar, one on the history of biology and the other on the history of genetics. Those courses, and Gar's teaching and enthusiasm, opened up my mind to a whole new way of thinking about science, and genetics in particular. 

My career path eventually took a bit of a turn and I became a genetic counselor.  Gar's teaching and scholarship continue to this day to strongly influence my ethical, historical, and professional views of genetic counseling and medical genetics. Incidentally, Gar was a guest lecturer at the University of Pittsburgh Genetic Counseling Training Program for several years, at the invite of the then program director, Dr. Ken Garver, so that is another connection  between Gar and genetic counseling. Although I attended a different genetic counseling training program, I did give several lectures to my fellow students on the history of genetics, based in large part on what I learned from Gar. 

Gar was gracious also enough to provide feedback on some of my professional publications even though I had never been his graduate student or had been a science historian.

Thank you, Gar. My life, and my profession, was made richer by you.

There were few people who I liked as much and was influenced by as much as Gar. I was in the Anthro Dept at Wash U from 1995-2022 and spend the last 22 years of that time talking with and learning from him. I first tracked him down after reading his article “The Reception of Mendelism in the United States" which sort of grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and shook me around and made me think about science in a whole new way. He agreed to appear in my "Brave New Crops" course on biotech & society that year, where he served up a Marxist critique of the research process that those students will not forget. He got me into eugenics research and in his last year kindly agreed to help me with a conference commemorating the centennial of Buck v Bell, despite his failing health (it has since morphed into a podcast, in which he will be sorely missed). In his final years we had a wonderful ongoing dialog about the Green Revolution and I was so pleased to see that some of it found its way into his final manuscript.

For years I played squash on a schedule that overlapped his gym time and so I was always walking down the long hall past the machines room where Gar would be huffing away on the bike surrounded by 20-somethings, always giving me a big wave and smile. He was one of a kind.

I first met Gar as a freshman at Wash U in 1994 - his University College course on the history of genetics intrigued me, and I subsequently asked him to be my undergrad advisor. I always looked forward to meeting in his office to check in and get his advice. It also was not lost on me that he had a Safe Zone sticker on his door, that pink triangle letting a not-out-yet me know that if I ever did work up the courage to live my life freely and openly as a gay man, he’d be supportive.

I was often back in St Louis to see family (he advised my younger brothers too) and anytime I was on campus I would swing by his office to say hi and update him on my medical school progress. Eventually, while in medical school, I came out. I was nervously excited the next time I was on campus, as I planned to stop by and check in with Gar to share my big news. Of course, this was met with support and happiness, and a big hug. After that, visits on campus were replaced by wonderful times at the house on Lafayette Square. Gar, Larry, and I had great fun getting to know each other. It meant so much to me that he cared to spend time getting to know me through the years, and the more I learned of his life and who he was as a person, the more I admired and cared for him (and Larry).  

So many fun memories were made there at the house, often with friends and family in tow.  I'm smiling now remembering some of those good times.  My mom enjoyed several stays with Larry at the B&B and in fact even has some of those planters in her garden to this day. Visiting Gar and Larry in Palm Springs was great fun as well, and it worked out easily enough as life changed and I would end up out there more frequently than St Louis anyway.

Being in medicine, Gar had kept me apprised of his health concerns through the decades. When Larry told me he had moved to the assisted living facility in Palm Springs, I was worried about what that portended. However, when I visited him there at his quarters this January, he had that same vital spark in his eyes, a memory that allowed us to pick right up where we’d last left off, and the ability to give the same warm, strong hugs. We spoke of his concern about his recent physical decline, and we took leave of each other as Larry arrived to pick him up for a clinic appointment. I didn’t want to think that it might be the last I saw him alive, but I was so grateful we had that time together and got to connect in person.

His guidance to me through the years, academically and then personally, is a treasure I hold dear. He was a role model and, eventually, a dear, supportive friend to me as I went through formative years of my life. This was especially important to me, as men of my generation had relatively few gay elders from whom we could get guidance as we navigated life. I can still see his smile and hear his voice and I know his spirit lives on in all those he touched through the years. Thanks for the memories and the love.   

Gar was so dearly loved by everyone who met him. He occupied a large place in my heart—as he must have done for many others-- for his kindness, intellectual rigor, and generosity of spirit. It was always a pleasure to be at an academic meeting with him and even more of a joy to hang out with him discussing so many different things. The Joint Atlantic Seminars in the History of Biology gained so much of their intellectual energy from his longstanding presence. On another occasion he came to the Ischia Summer School in the History of Biology and was a terrific mentor, scholar, and guide to the students and colleagues present. Even so, we managed to lose him on the day that the School participants went on the ferry to Naples. We had to send for the Carabinieri to rescue him from the wrong island…

I am proud to record that Gar was one of the most eminent historians of science in North America today. He received the Sarton Medal, the highest honor of that society, in recognition of his outstanding achievements. He was past president of the International Society for the History, Philosophy, and Social Studies of Biology and editor of Journal for the History of Biology, and for many years co-hosted a historical study week at the Marine Biological Station at Woods Hole, also serving as a Trustee and chairman of the MBL history committee. In 1988 he presented the History of Science Society’s Sarton lecture at the American Association for the Advancement of Science.

Bravo Gar! His work and warmth will long be remembered and serve as a model to us all. 

Carin-- my mom was having troubles with her answering machine, and just this week she retrieved your message from weeks ago that Gar had passed. We both share the sadness in his passing. 

We last saw him two summers ago when he came over to visit. My dad was in the last months of his life then; he perked up when your dad arrived and ushered your father out onto the deck, where they caught up. A good friendship, started at Mount Herman, and that spanned so many years. While I didn't know your dad that well, I always appreciated him, and his warm demeanor that so many here have referenced.

Best wishes to you and Tania,  Nancy