SRF Donation Info

For anyone who might like to make donations in Bill’s memory, here is the contact information for the Scleroderma Research Foundation (www.srfcure.org):  

Online donations: https://www.srfcure.org/donate?view=donation

In memory of William P. Banks, Ph.D.

Address for acknowledgment:

230 W. 11^th Street, Claremont, CA 91711

Phone donations: 1-800-441-2873, 9:00 am to 5:00 pm Pacific Standard Time

Checks:                       Scleroderma Research Foundation

                                   

220 Montgomery Street, Suite 1411

                                    San Francisco, CA  94104

The site also explains its “Cure Crew” Program for those who prefer to donate time.

Bill’s family is also considering a campus memorial for him (perhaps something like a bench, sculpture, or tree), but information on that will come later.

Best regards to all,

Janet

Since hearing of Bill's death, I have been struggling to write a remembrance, because I simply don't have the words to express the depth of my sadness knowing that Bill is gone, or the depth of my appreciation for everything that Bill did for me, and for all of his students, during his too-short lifetime.

I have been thinking a lot about Bill lately, and especially today because it is both his birthday and the first day of the annual Vision Sciences Society conference. I am only here at this meeting today because Bill was such a terrific role model, teacher, supervisor, collaborator and mentor during my time at Pomona. Having now had more undergraduate and graduate students of my own than I can remember, I appreciate even more the dedication Bill had to guiding his students through their programs, letting them make their own mistakes, cheering them on when they found success, and helping them find their own voice. Without Bill's support, I would never have done a vision research project during my semester abroad in London; I would never have had the opportunity to work with Bill and one of his graduate students, Robert Lunn, to complete a publishable (but, alas, still unpublished) thesis; I would never have gone to Berkeley to do my PhD in vision science; and I certainly never would have ended up as a Professor, teaching in the very same field that I learned from Bill.

Bill taught me science, but he also taught me the importance of work/life balance -- he loved his work, he loved his students, he loved Pomona, but most of all, he loved his kids. His office was beautifully chaotic -- artwork from his children hanging every which where from the ceiling, and he was always proud to show off the latest masterpiece. He had a sign that summed it all up: "A neat desk is a sign of a sick mind."  It was clear that Bill's mind was anything but sick, so I've taken heart that perhaps my own messy desk may be a good thing after all. The chaos was an illusion in any case - any time Bill needed to find something, he knew exactly in which pile to look, and the practice he had in piecing things together in real life was mirrored in his academic life:  he was better than anyone at taking in what seemed to be a mess of disjointed, complex information, and synthesizing it to come up with novel approaches to age-old questions.

But Bill was also incredibly modest. He accomplished an extraordinary amount in his own research career, developing new paradigms and helping foster new scientific fields of inquiry, and all of that compounded through the tremendously positive impact he had on the lives of so many students. But he never rested on his laurels, and he always encouraged his students and colleagues to try to go that extra step.

At 12:01 this morning, Facebook prompted me that it was William Banks' birthday. With tears in my eyes, I visited his page, and saw my birthday greeting from last year, and his response. Around this same time last year,  I had been invited to give the annual public lecture at the Vision Sciences Society, talking about my research on vision and the amazing, changing, aging brain. Bill's response to my birthday greeting was, "Thanks for the birthday message. Pretty soon I'll be old enough to be one of your subjects. I circulated the announcement of your VSS talk in the department. Very good! I'm sorry now that I decided not to go this year. Thanks also for taking the time when you are getting ready for the talk and all. All the best, Bill." Nearly a quarter of a century after I'd left Pomona, Bill was still cheering me on. He took so much pride in his students' successes, but he must have known that we could never have succeeded without him, and our greatest pride is in having had the chance to be inspired, mentored and guided by him. I wish he could have lived to be old enough to be one of my subjects. And I wish we could have seen him this year at VSS -- there is a tremendous hole at the meeting today. But rather than spend the day wishing for things that could not be, I spent the day remembering Bill, and celebrating his life, because, more than anything, Bill always celebrated life.

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Allison B. Sekuler, Ph.D.
Professor and Canada Research Chair in Cognitive Neuroscience, Department of Psychology, Neuroscience & Behaviour (PNB)
Associate Vice-President and Dean (Graduate Studies), McMaster University

Founding of the Scientific Study of Consciousness

I knew Bill for many years from a distance as a colleague in psychophysics, and more closely as a founder of the Association for Scientific Study of Consciousness, on a lawn at the Pomona campus. Part of Bill's lasting legacy is surely the journal he co-founded, Consciousness and Cognition. When I joined the journal as an associate editor, he guided me through the editorial process with patience and wisdom. When Bill became ill I was honored to get his nod to take his place as editor-in-chief.  Every time I open the Elsevier website for the journal I think of Bill, who started the journal from nothing and made it prominent. Editing becomes an act of homage to Bill and his accomplishments, one that I execute with pleasure.

Following the Bill Banks blog daily for months was a searing experience - it could happen to any of us, regardless of talents, motivations, or potential future contributions. He never lost his optimism or his quirky humor.

regards,

Bruce Bridgeman

Research Professor of Psychology

Remembrance

I am deeply saddened by the news of Bill’s passing. The last time I saw him was in Boston in late 2009, at Psychonomics, and at that time he appeared perfectly healthy. The news of his passing was unexpected as I was completely unaware that he had been ill. My condolences go to his family and to others who loved him and knew him well.

As a graduate student, I was first a student and later a TA for Bill’s Perception and Cognition course. Bill was also on my dissertation committee and we published two articles together, one on signal detection theory and memory, another on the teaching effectiveness of his well-known camera obscura class demonstration.

What I admired most about Bill were his qualities of playfulness and curiosity. His sense of playfulness was evident in his inimitable wit and wacky sense of humor (for a while, his email signature read “William Banks, Professor of Aerobics and Evil”). However, he also loved to play with ideas - seemingly for the sheer enjoyment of the process. His sense of curiosity and wonder about the world around him was exciting and infectious, and my interest in all manner of things ranging from lateral inhibition to opera was piqued through my interactions with him. Of course I also learned a great deal about cognitive psychology from Bill and I still remember all kinds of interesting little facts from him that represented the products of his curiosity: Birdsong is lateralized, taking magic mushrooms increases the critical flicker fusion threshold, and that a famous composer, I think Rimsky-Korsakoff, had tinnitus later in life (and it was a high E-flat). I had always meant to catch up with Bill about these little tidbits (maybe it was Shostakovich who had the tinnitus?). I had also considered sitting in on his class one more time just to watch him teach, and to spontaneously disappear into that closet in the corner, hear him make all sorts of racket as he searched for the perfect demonstration, and then pull out that demonstration and then just amaze the students. Alas, those plans will have to remain unfulfilled.

Bill brought life, color, and humor to my graduate school experience, and he made a significant and lasting impression on me in the kind of educator, scientist, and person that I am today. Bill, whereever you are, thank you for all you have done for your students, and for me. You are deeply missed.

Matthew Prull

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Matthew Prull
Associate Professor

Remembrance

Here are some e mails that I recently received from former graduate students.
If you would like remembrances posted, e mail wprinz@berkeley.edu (Bill Prinzmetal)
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I am so sorry to hear this. Bill was a mentor, employer (NIAAA grant) dissertation committee member and a friend.

We did work together on the development of tolerance to alcohol. He creatively applied his knowledge of sensation and perception to a person's sense of intoxication and came up with a methodology for measuring sense of intoxication. We published an article together with Roger Vogler in the Journal of Alcohol Studies in 1982.

Bill was fun and easy to be around--it was a joy to watch his mind at work. I remember many stimulating sessions with Roger and he, figuring out what our next experiment was going to be.

And his office--was a work of art--as we all said--Bill's order was in his mind, not his office.

I will miss him.
Roger Benton

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Bill was on my oral exam committee. He was a great mentor and role model. I remember meeting him for the first time when I visited Claremont after I was accepted into the Doctoral program. As I found a narrow path through his office he commented that an organized office was a sign of a deranged mind. After taking a couple of classes from him, I discovered that his mind was not only organized but brilliant. As a tribute to Bill, my office looks a lot like his did at our first meeting. What a loss to the profession. I join all of you in celebrating his life and career and mourn with you his passing.

Gerald E. Evans, Ph.D.
Professor of Management and
Information System

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Bill Banks came to Pomona College when I was a Ph.D. student at CGS. A small group of doctoral students and I approached him, asking if he would teach an overload, which for us was a small weekly seminar on Perception. He did. We learned. And rigor and truth be told, he made us read the original Tanner and Sweats, Signal Detection Theory, which is not exactly easy stuff! We learned nevertheless, and that was his gift to us.

Ray Paloutzian

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Bill was the chair of my dissertation committee, my mentor and my friend.  He was a lot of fun too. His sense of humor was fabulous. I can hear him laughing now with that wonderfully infectious laugh of his.

There seemed to be no limit to his creativity and curiosity. I was in the Cognitive program, and I loved to watch how Bill worked problems. I think one of the most important lesions I took away from Bill was that the essence of science was to first discover the important questions. I wish I had the chance to tell Bill how much he meant to me. His loss is deeply felt.

Robert J. Lunn, Ph.D.

Donations

If you would like to make a donation in Bill's name, please donate to the Scleroderma Research Foundation (founded by Pitzer alums ).

Car pool to memorial service on 5/7

I want to encourage people to carpool to Claremont. Let me know if you need a ride or can drive. I will see if I can get you in touch with others wanting to do the same.

Kris