When Henry Was Always There

When I first met Henry Lawton in June 1994, it was at the opening of the annual IPA Convention in New York. Henry was standing behind the desk, collecting payments, handing out program sheets, and welcoming participants with gracious gestures and smiling both contentedly and empathically. All were greeted, and I sensed that I got a moment of special attention.

This caring and sharing atmosphere was never absent in our later contacts. I only met him in person during the IPA Conventions, where he had his memorable psychohistorical film sessions, but his presence was felt through correspondence in his quick and balanced messages, for example, as the Secretary of the IPA and the Book Review Editor of the JPH. He was sure to accept even strong critical statements if he felt them to be constructive, developing further psychohistorical work.

I started to trust that Henry was always there, “being in the world,” like existentialist philosophers used to say. Henry’s “being in the world” meant “co-being” with his family, friends, colleagues, as well as strangers.

His passionate interest in books became evident to me when, after a long IPA Convention day, we happened to meet in the Strand Bookstore at Broadway, between the bookshelves. Henry’s

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reaction was surprise, accompanied by, “My goodness! You are here!” This coincidence and Henry’s short exclamation has remained a precious memory, giving structure to my experience of being in the realms of personal and interpersonal exploration. We were both searching for old books and new knowledge. This search was made even more exciting because I knew that Henry was also there.

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