And yet he was a superb teacher.
It is simply that this phase of him is lost in the totality of the man.
One thinks instinctively of a phrase of Cicero's—Cicero whose orations Mr. Putney taught for so many years—"Vir amplissimus." It means something much more, something quite other than simply "Great man." It means one adequate for the occasion, whatever that occasion might be.
That is the final verdict to be pronounced, as it is the highest praise to be bestowed. From whatever angle Mr. Putney was regarded, and to whatever test he was brought, he measured up; he sufficed.
John E. Colburn.
When Mr. Putney died, we could not at first realize our loss. He had been so much a part of the school life that it seemed hardly possible that, while that life went on, he could be away.
We all loved and admired him, but we seldom stopped to measure him. We accepted him, like any other accustomed gift, without realizing quite fully how much he meant to us.
As we remember him now, what impresses us most strongly is the thought how little in him we could have wished to change—how extraordinarily well he measured up as a man.
There was a fine serenity about him, and a kind of soundness and sweetness of character like the autumnal ripeness of a perfect apple. It was tonic and wholesome to be under his influence.