"It was 1962 when I walked into the freshman drafting room at Cornell, a newly minted architecture student. Werner was apparently also recently arrived, although I didn’t know that at the time. We came from backgrounds that were as different as one could imagine. I was from the suburbs in Ohio. All I knew of him at the time was that he was a part of something they called the Texas Rangers, many of whom are here today. It was there, in that awful basement of Sibley Hall, that I encountered the tornado that swept up me, and a lot of others, and carried us on a journey that none could have imagined, and that we will all certainly remember -forever.

In his own way, Werner made you feel as if you were a part of something special, something important, and thus that you were special, that you could join him in a tireless effort to do no less than make a better world. It is possible to view the world as many worlds, each with its own geography and boundaries, its own sense and logic. These worlds may be separate or overlap, they may complement or collide. The entirety may be riddled with contradictions, or at least puzzles that are difficult to fathom. But if you are ready to accept that these worlds can exist simultaneously, contradictions and all, then one can move on.

In a way, there were many Werners, sometimes contradictory, often puzzling, always fascinating. I had the good fortune to know him for 36 years, first as a student, then as an employee, then as a colleague and a friend. I have known many Werners.

There was always, of course, Werner the teacher. In this case, I think of Werner the patient teacher. I remember watching him in a review with a group of freshmen, perhaps four weeks into their first semester. I saw my own dean on my freshman convocation and next at my graduation five years later, so the mere prospect of the dean of the school spending endless hours with freshman was something extraordinary in itself. One had made a drafting mistake, a minor error in profiling a section. Most of us might let it go, knowing they would catch on soon enough. But not Werner. He launched into a 15 minute dissertation on the significance of the profile line, its importance as the definer of architectural space and since space is the medium of architecture it made all the difference in the world, between a drawing about a building and a drawing about architecture, about the difference between a draftsman and an architect. Then he "drew" with his finger a line, a profile line, that crossed the chair, outlining every part, and across the floor, and up around a person, and down along the floor again and up the wall… It was a masterful display. The students were transfixed. He was so patient, so gentle. When he was done, those students not only understood, they would remember it - forever.

When I was a student of Werner’s, he seemed to know everything there was to know about architecture, he had been to more buildings in more countries that most of us will in five lifetimes. He knew more about music, politics, history, wine, the things that made a cultured individual, than one could imagine. Over all, he was supremely self confident, always the picture of self assurance.

When I joined the office in December of 1969 I was confronted with a very different Werner. Suddenly here was a Werner who seemed never to be sure, was always uncertain about design decisions.

Werner ... never ...  designed ... alone.

When he was in the office designing, I never got any work done. It was always "Come here Bruce, take a look…", or "Bruce, come here, I need you".

Most architects move projects from the design phase into the production phase. We converted the production phase into a design process. We converted the shop drawings into a design phase and you might be amazed how many design decisions can be deferred into the construction phase. It caused much chaos, and many gray hairs for those around him.

It was not for lack of ideas. Indeed, he had so many ideas, it was like dealing them off the top of the deck, one after the other, so many that to commit to one was almost terrifying. You never knew but what the next idea might be better, and the one after that, better yet. Perhaps, it was because he had seen such destruction, such ugliness and impermanence as a youth. I don’t know. But I do know that he just wanted it to be right, because to build is to make something permanent, - forever.

There is one particular story from the office that I would like to tell, for it shows yet another Werner, a man of great force. I have only told this story to a very few people.

I was with Werner in the office in Cortland for ten years. The average person in the office lasted around two. One lasted eight hours. For the first five of those years the office was a busy place, full of projects and people, but for the last five years it was often just the two of us.

… In any event..

One day, I was working at my drafting table and Werner was on the phone. And he was upset. We all know that Werner could get upset from time to time. Actually, he was angry, he was mad,

to put it bluntly, he was furious! It wasn’t the first time I had heard him angry so I wasn’t paying much attention. He was talking to a contractor who had botched something on the job site. He wasn’t really talking, he was screaming! At some point, and to this day I don’t know what it was, I looked over at him. At the same instant he looked over at me, and… he winked. The man actually winked at me! And there was quick flash of a smile. And the diatribe continued, without missing a beat. It’s not that it was an act, because he was indeed mad, and had good reason to be. He was trying to make it clear that this mattered, it was important, it was not just another project.

It’s just that he was driving the point across in a way that the contractor will remember, - forever.

Over the past summer, as Werner and I sat on the terrace of the house down in Cortland, working on the monograph, the table strewn with photographs, drawings, notes, sketches, and books… he was reading,

books about the history of the synagogue, and he was insistent that I read certain of them. We had long discussions, lessons actually, about the history of Judaism, of the synagogue, why the ark had to be where it was in relation to the bema. It was Werner the teacher, still very much at work.

And I came to realize, perhaps for the first time, that what made Werner such a great teacher was that he was such a great student, with a willingness to look, explore, read, analyze, travel, and an insatiable appetite for more information and ideas.

So there was Werner the patient teacher, Werner the not-so-patient seeker of the perfect design solution, the confrontational Werner driven by the powerful force of his convictions and Werner the student.

In closing, I have never had the opportunity to publicly acknowledge and thank Werner for all that he has done for me.

I do so now.

I think it is no disrespect to say it this way, but for such a little man he caused big waves, made big things happen, and touched a lot of lives. I take some comfort in knowing that he did succeed in making the world a better place, in ways that we will all remember, - forever.