MY FRIEND AND COLLEAGUE FRED GARRY, who died on February 10, 1993, taught Ted Williams—among scores of others—how to fly, after he himself mastered the art by flying Corsairs and making carrier landings as a marine pilot in World War II.

That was a typical sequence in Fred's long, colorful, and illustrious career. He would achieve a hands-on mastery of the difficult, and then use the experience gained to teach others.

He once recalled a childhood day when—while sitting in an ice cream parlor and listening to the radio news of the Lindberg flight—he looked up at the ceiling fan and envisioned it as a propeller. He said he knew then, vaguely but surely, that he wanted to be a part of aviation. He never forgot that moment or lost the insight it gave him into the importance and evanescence of childhood dreams, and why it is so important that they be nourished and encouraged to eventual fruition. His dream blossomed into a reality of aviation, jet engines, and a lifetime of engineering challenges successfully met.

For someone with a mind of great breadth and complexity, who achieved a perfect 4.0 grade average year after year and innumerable scholastic prizes, Fred was a long-time apostle of simplicity in engineering. A few years ago he told a gathering of department chairmen from forty of the nation's top universities that their ''greatest challenge'' was to inculcate the importance of "greater simplicity of design" into their students.

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