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ing. He would carefully prepare his lectures and rarely follow the prepared text. He was interested in so many things, always questioning new ideas and attacking new problems that he could not remain true to his prepared notes. I found this to be very beneficial and stimulating. Rather than being presented with clean, antiseptic lectures suggesting that science proceed as a straight path from query to finding, we were privileged to watch how Don's mind attacked a problem. It was not always aesthetically pleasing; we saw all the wrong turns and stumbles. We also saw his insights, the superb grasp that he had for how the natural environment functioned, and his ability to simplify a problem to its fundamentals. This ability to watch Don's mind in action, rather than being presented with a mere tailored version of the results of his inquiry, was extraordinarily edifying and presented a model to which we could only hope to aspire.”
Wiseman continues: “I was particularly impressed with Don's willingness to allow students to develop their own approach to research. He would point a student towards a good problem and then get out of the way and allow the student to proceed. The final product was clearly your own work. He was gracious and open with his time, insights, and advice, when asked for it. He did not impose his own approach on students. It was on his way out of the building at 7:00 or 8:00 or 9:00 o'clock at night that he was most likely to stop in at the lab and see what progress was being made. At these times, without the administrative pressures of the department and the Chesapeake Bay Institute weighing on him, he would sit and chat for an hour or more, encouraging, questioning, and suggesting—not imposing—alternative approaches. He must have been a wonderful father!”
Don Pritchard is survived by his wife, the former Thelma Lydia Amling, whom he married on April 25, 1943, in Santa Ana, California; daughters, Marian Caldwell and Jo Anne Mitchell of Severna Park; sons, Albert of Harwood, Maryland, and Donald Jr. of Severna Park; eleven grandchildren; and three great-grandchildren. Another beloved daughter, Suzanne Lebowitz, preceded her father in death in 1994.