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This post is the second in the series dedicated to the economists who trained me (the first post about John Michael Montias is here). In the Evsey Domar papers archived at Duke University I found the following two-page, undated typed note about my Doktorvater’s own experience with his dissertation. Let us just say that his thesis committee fell rather short of any reasonable standard of due diligence.
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M.I.T. Obituary
Professor Emeritus of Economics Evsey D. Domar died on April 1 [1997] in Emerson Hospital in Concord. He was 82.
Domar came to MIT in 1957 as a visiting professor from Johns Hopkins University; he received tenure a year later. In 1972, Domar became one of seven professors endowed by the Ford Foundation. He retired in 1984.
Among Domar’s pupils in macroeconomics was Robert William Fogel, winner of the 1993 Nobel Memorial Prize in Economics.
Domar was an expert on Soviet economics during the Cold War and an early proponent of Keynesian economic theory.
In recent years, Domar remained politically active in his field. Along with 1,100 other economists, he signed an Economic Policy Institute statement opposing the proposed balanced budget amendment.
Domar served as a consultant for the RAND Corp., the Ford Foundation, the Brookings Institution, the National Science Foundation, the Batelle Memorial Institute, and the Institute for Defense Analysis.
Domar was born in Lodz, Poland in 1914. He was raised in Manchuria and emigrated to the United States in 1936.
He received his bachelor of arts from UCLA in 1939, a master of science from University of Michigan in 1940, another MS from Harvard University in 1943, and his doctorate from Harvard in 1947.
Before coming to MIT, Domar taught at the Carnegie Institute of Technology, the University of Chicago, and Johns Hopkins.
Domar was a fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, the Econometric Society, and the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences.
He was on the executive committee of the American Economic Association from 1964—65, and became the organization’s vice president in 1970, when he was also president of the Association for Comparative Economics.
Domar is survived by his wife, Carola, of Concord, two daughters, Alice D. Domar, of Sudbury, and Erica D. Banderob, of Milton, and three granddaughters.
Source: MIT, The Tech, Vol. 117, No. 19 Tuesday, April 15, 1997.
Image Source: Joshua Domashevitsky (Evsey Domar). 1939 UCLA Yearbook Southern Campus portrait.
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THE STORY OF MY THESIS
When I entered graduate school I knew that someday I would have to write a thesis but I did not have the slightest idea what it would be on. Once, browsing in the Harper Library at the University of Chicago I stumbled into Bronfennbrenner’s thesis. Its mathematics was overwhelming. I was in a panic: surely I would never be able to write anything like it.
Originally, I was supposed to write a thesis on post-war taxation, but as time went on I was finding the subject less and less interesting. In the meantime, I began to publish papers on growth models. Harvard rules permit the submission of several related articles instead of one book-like study. It took me several years to accumulate four papers, of which three, I believe, had been published. (A full time job, whether at the Federal Reserve or in teaching is not the best environment to write a dissertation.) Finally, the last paper was finished and all four were sent to Hansen at Harvard.
I needed the degree very badly. I was very unhappy at Carnegie Tech and anxious to find another job. Prospective employers appeared to lose all interest when informed that I had not yet received my degree. So in the letter accompanying the thesis I besieged (sic) Hansen to render his decision as soon as possible.
Weeks went by with no word from him. Finally I called him on the phone. (In those days long-distance phone calls were regarded as an exotic luxury particularly for an underpaid assistant professor.) “Thesis,” said he, in his gruff voice, “what thesis?” I explained. “Wait a moment, let me find it.” I heard the sound of an envelope torn open. “Fine,” he said, “Fine. Send it in.” And that was all the supervision I was to get.
When I arrived in Cambridge a day before my final examination, I noticed that the secretary of another member of the committee was just bringing my thesis to him. (She tried to hide it behind her back.) At least he had one day to take a look at it.
Schumpeter, who was the third member, never bothered to look at it at all. He invited me to lunch, and said: “You are coming up tomorrow, aren’t you? What shall we talk about?” I told him what I was working on. “Fine,” he said. When the committee met he turned to Hansen, the chairman: “Instead of talking about the thesis, why don’t we ask the candidate to tell us about his current work.” His suggestion was accepted at once, I thought, even with a sense of relief: as I was to find out repeatedly in my time, doctoral examinations can be quite boring for the examiners. And that was my doctoral examination.
Were our teachers guilty of neglect or were they sufficiently brave to pay no attention to rules? Would we have the courage to disregard them under similar circumstances?
Source: Duke University, Rubenstein Library. Evsey Domar Papers. Box 18, Folder “Miscellaneous: Biographical “The Story of My Thesis.”
