Gordon Willard Allport: A Tribute

Journal of Social Issues, Fall, 1999 by Thomas F. Pettigrew

Occasionally, his considerate preparations backfired. Before meeting my mother for the first time, he prepared in advance to hold a conversation he thought would be of interest to an elderly southern lady. So he had checked on the flowers and plants of my native Virginia. But there was one problem. My mother did not know the first thing about such botanical matters!

In relating to graduate students, Gordon was typically formal yet supportive. Rather than demanding excellence, he simply expected it from his students. And toward that end, he gave unstintingly of his time in carefully editing everything we wrote--even years after we had received our doctorates. Indeed, he taught us how to write, though his old students still quake to the single word, "Recast." When scribbled in the margin, it meant the entire paragraph required a complete reworking.

A firm believer in the uniqueness of personality, Gordon practiced what he preached with his doctoral students. He let us follow our own pursuits and methods, and thus never developed a "school" of followers. Coming from an engineering background, I was fascinated with factor analysis as a graduate student and inserted one in my doctoral dissertation. Before the days of computers and statistical packages, it required a full week of calculations. So I was quite proud of the accomplishment. But Gordon abhorred factor analysis as the ultimate expression of extreme nomothetic methods. He quietly suggested that the analysis added nothing to my thesis, but he did not insist that I remove it. Years later, I realized he was right: the factor analysis contributed nothing whatsoever to my thesis.

Gordon preferred an unpretentious lifestyle and paid scant attention to money matters. Hence, Eleanor Sprague, his loyal and efficient secretary for many years, completed his income tax forms for him annually. But, reflecting his Scottish socialization, Gordon was thrifty and regarded waste as evil. It hurt him that each year most of a large blueberry crop at his summer cottage near Lincolnville, Maine, went unharvested. So he contracted with a local farmer one year to harvest and sell the crop for him. Much to his chagrin, the farmer's bill totaled more than $500 while the crop fetched less than $300. Sam Stouffer, the beloved sociologist and wit of the old social relations department, never let Gordon forget the episode. To Gordon's amusement, Sam routinely called him "the blueberry king"!

A Final Word

In 1963, 55 of Gordon's PhDs and close friends surprised him with a testimonial gathering in Washington, DC. We gave him two bound volumes containing a published article from each old student that best represented his influence on us. Inside was the dedication: "From his students--in appreciation of his respect for their individuality."

Allport was deeply moved by the occasion. Yet what I recall best from the evening was a revelation about Gordon that I had not known. One by one, we rose during the evening to express our individual appreciation for his support throughout our careers. We were especially grateful for his patient help on our dissertations.