More years ago than I care to admit, I entered graduate
school at the Penn State University. In my first semester there, I took a
colonial history seminar with Dr. Bill Pencak, an experience I shall not soon
forget. Bill was an accomplished author. He completed eight books on his own,
thirty-nine peer-reviewed articles, and he co-authored or edited about twenty
additional books. Moreover, he sat on the committees of at least thirty graduate
students. Many of them have since graduated Penn State and have gone on to
become pillars in their respective fields. Civil War buffs will best remember
him for his wonderful book, Making and
Remaking Pennsylvania’s Civil War, co-edited with William Blair. Bill lived
an active, illustrious career, leaving this earth too soon on December 9, 2013.
Bill Pencak’s litany of accomplishments represented only one
side of his colorful life. His happy, out-going personality will be remembered by
all who knew him. He was gregarious, upbeat, and always generous when it came
to his friends. Unlike many in his profession, he did not take life too
seriously. To his students, he offered precious words of wisdom for getting
through the absurdities of existence, cherished acumen that ought to have been
collected and published for all to read. In short, he was an enjoyable person
and a prolific historian, all in one.
And he hunted vampires! When I first arrived at Penn State,
sometime in mid-September, he invited me to the debut of a student-film in
which he played a minor role. Sadly, I cannot remember the title
of this film—it was written, directed, filmed, and cast by undergraduates—but
it involved a secret society of vampire-hunters called “The Watchers.” In this movie,
Bill played the sage-leader of The Watchers. For several plot-related reasons
that would take too long to narrate, Bill’s cabal of undead-hunters endured
internal turmoil. One of the Watchers had turned traitor, foolishly allying himself with
the vampires, the villains of the film. Bill had to star in a pivotal scene where he pontificated in
anguish over the brewing division. (Bill later told me that he studied Marlon
Brando’s performance in Apocalypse Now
for his inspiration.) In the end, Bill’s character died in a shoot-out when the
traitorous Watcher burst into the inner sanctum, gunning down his former
colleagues. Here, Bill had to perform his own stunts, at one point, leaping
from a chair, hitting the floor with his “death wound.” (The Penn State
students who filmed this scene shot it on the 4th Floor of the
Weaver Building, the headquarters of the University’s Department of History.)
It brings a smile to my face to think of my friend, Bill Pencak,
as captain of the vampire slayers. It proves his generosity and
light-heartedness better than any example of which I can think. I cannot imagine
many tenured professors taking such a role, but Bill
was no humorless academic. He loved to help his students. He loved to have
fun and he never felt shame when he did it.
Bill left us Civil War historians with two priceless lessons:
1) write often and 2) indulge your students’ creativity. Let us strive to honor
him by so doing.
(Making and Remaking Pennsylvania's Civil War, 2001.)
(The unforgettable Bill Pencak.)
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