Rex was someone I worked with for twenty-five years and knew in retirement for another twenty-five. I came to admire him uniquely. So why do I have no stories? As a colleague he was wise, discreet, reliable. As a person he was quiet, modest, gentle. As a companion he was easy, perceptive. At first acquaintance you might overlook him. At second you might take him for granted. Thereafter you would always want to know what he thought. On the Athenaeum Committee I used to think of him as my one-man silent majority. I do not recall that he ever spoke first, or interrupted, or repeated at length what had already been said. Those who did so are garlanded with stories. But it was Rex I would bring in when we seemed to be getting nowhere. He was always clear, and the Committee always followed. How happy the country with no history, and how admirable the man with no stories!