During much of his time as head of the department, national economic conditions dictated that anyone who had a job did what he could to hang onto it. In addition, the tradition at Union and elsewhere was that people remained in department chairs more or less permanently. The result was that, if the chairman's personality inclined him in that direction, there was little to prevent departments from becoming fiefdoms. According to available recollections, that is what happened at Union. Morse ran the department with an iron fist, telling instructors how to teach their courses, and even how to display the proofs of individual theorems. Moreover, Morse had decided that teaching and research were essentially antagonistic activities, and he developed and maintained an atmosphere in which professional growth was to take a distant second place to teaching. Moreover, teaching loads were high, and salaries were low, so that the temptation to teach graduate courses for extra compensation during the evening was difficult to resist, especially for faculty members with families. It is not surprising, then, that published research was in short supply in the Mathematics department during Morse's years in charge.
Morse anecdotes, almost none complimentary, abound, and space does not permit an extensive recitation here. Perhaps one will suffice to indicate the nature of the man. When informed that the department's water fountain was broken, Morse replied, "I never drink water between meals anyway". The fountain remained unrepaired until a student fixed it on his own. On the other hand there is no evidence that he was anything but a man of consistent rectitude.
In spite of the ethos that Morse installed, some research activity did occur. Orrin Farrell, who joined the department in 1931 with a Ph.D. from Harvard, published papers in 1932 and 1934, and in 1949, while on leave at the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton, read two papers at a spring meeting of the American Mathematical Society. But it is worth noting that Farrell only resumed his publishing career after Morse retired. Charles Standish, who served in the department from 1954 until 1957, also produced published work during his time at Union. The case of Augustus Fox, however, must appear on the debit side of Morse's record. Fox joined the department in 1929, and then, after a leave of absence, finished his Ph.D. at Yale in 1935. Fox was among the first Ph.D. students of Marshall H. Stone, one of the most prominent American mathematicians of the era, and so was at the forefront of what was then the new and exciting field of functional analysis. Fox, who retired in 1966, did publish three textbooks, but nothing in functional analysis. It is difficult not to conclude that much of his promise was unfulfilled, and that the Morse atmosphere was at least partly to blame.
Morse was, without question, one of the most influential figures in the history of the department, and as controversial as he was dictatorial. No doubt he was well intentioned, and in fact, may have been unaware of the frustration and anger felt by the many fine and intelligent men who served under him.
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