Life Stories

I was one of 19 classmates studying architecture in the spring of 1962, our junior year. We were fortunate to have David Billington ’50 as our professor in Engineering 206a. For the first three years at Princeton I kept a cryptic journal in which I, on a daily basis, commented on the lectures and precepts I attended. On May 3, Professor Billington gave a lecture in our Art 314 class, no doubt on the aesthetics of structural systems in famous buildings. That night I wrote in the journal, “Billington was fabulous — one of the best lectures I have ever heard.” Indeed, your article on Billington states: “When Professor Billington lectured, he could hold a room like no other person.” I had this experience.

Billington and I share the same birthplace (Bryn Mawr, Pa.) and high school (Lower Merion), even though he eventually graduated from The Hill School. What Billington and I did not share was the love of solving engineering problems. I struggled in his course, and when I received his grade of 4, my journal entry was, “This is fantastic — I can’t believe it.” I had expected much worse. 

Over the years I would see Billington in the P-rade, and I would yell his name and wave. He responded in kind. He indeed was “a revered teacher whose legacy lives on.” (I went on to practice architecture for 52 years, and always hired a structural engineer consultant.)