William M. Capron
1920-2002
I'm writing this blog mostly from the State of California. I feel like a native son of beautiful Palo Alto. But I wasn't born here. My father started his career as educator at the University of Illinois at Champaign-Urbana. At the time I was, naturally, a happy, oblivious baby, while my Dad was facing a moral challenge at work. Along with a number of other young up-and-coming economists whom Dean Harold Bowen had recruited in 1949 and 1950, my father's ethical compass led him to resign in his second year of teaching.
The "Red Scare" that cast such a nasty shadow over the 50's and into the 60's exerted its fear-mongering paranoia wherever it could. Both Hollywood and the world of academia were among the earliest targets. Loyalty oaths were demanded. Professors were presumed guilty of subversive teaching (i.e. Keynesian economics) and communist thinking even for asking their students to compare and contrast different economic models. It was a fearful time and the right wing Cheerleaders of Fear wanted to suppress all independent thinking. When the Chair of the Economics Department was given an ultimatum about signing a loyalty oath or being fired, the brilliant group of recently-hired economists, including Hagan, Hurwicz, Patinkin, Modigliani and Bill Capron resigned en masse.
I picture my Dad, just thirty-one years old, a father of three children with one more on the way, up and quitting his job because his conscience would not be "cut to fit" the rising tide of anti-communist hysteria that was seizing power across our country. Would the whole of academia shut its doors to all progressive thought? Would my Dad find work in the field he was so well prepared to work in?
This is what brought my family to California, where my father was recruited to work at a think tank before Stanford University had the good sense to hire him. He and my Mom, like many in that "Greatest Generation," were forward-oriented and progressive thinkers. I didn't hear this story of my parents choosing conscience over security until I was much older. They rarely told stories about the past, and no wonder, with the horrors of WWII so recently in their rear-view mirrors.
This Sunday it will be five years since my boss up and fired me. My fruitful teaching career of forty years was suddenly terminated. Though I spent an arm and a leg for good legal counsel and the school community spoke up for me in a heartfelt manner, the Head of School had decided and she would not be moved.
Now I've found my bearings. I'm not the retiring type. I love my work and know that I will keep on teaching and directing one way or another, probably well into my seventies. Just like my Dad.