program of scientific conferences posed a real problem because it required several times as much space as any other professor’s CV. It has become impossible for any book on histology to be published in any university in the world without using Baker’s cell photograph collections. Professor Baker approached his work in the spirit of an artist. First, a mysterious thought would come to him; then it would persist and give him sleepless nights; then it would disappear, leaving behind an amazing, but fragile, idea. He would examine that idea and scrutinize it until it took hold in his mind. Then he would spend weeks testing the cells in different light settings and different levels of microscope strength. Finally, inspiration would come, revealing for him what he should do, whereupon he would enthusiastically rush to photograph, record, and print.
In addition to his scientific achievement, Baker is considered one of the greatest lecturers that the University of Illinois has known throughout its history. His lectures about bodily tissues were as simple as they were profound. This led the university administration to market them on CDs that sold thousands of copies. Despite the magnificence of his achievement, Baker, like many great creative minds, was not immune to fears of failure and apprehensions of falling short. There were dark thoughts that sometimes made him wonder about the value of what he did. Those who worked with him were quite familiar with the anxiety that came over him before his lectures, like stage fright. As soon as the lecture ended he would ask one of his assistants, “Don’t you think that my explanation was somewhat vague?”
If the assistant did not hurry to refute the accusation enthusiastically, Baker’s imagined shortcoming would be confirmed for him and he would shake his head and say sadly, “Next time I’ll try to do better.”
In Chicago’s bitter cold and snowy winter, old Professor Baker often got up at four o’clock in the morning, washed up, put on heavy clothes and gloves, and covered his head and ears well, as if he were a soldier going to the battlefield. He would take the 5:00 a.m. train with cleaning crews and drunkards from the previous night. He would go through this trouble gladly to be able to check the cell samples at the exact time that he had set to the minute. That was how Baker accomplished his glorious achievements day after day, with the perseverance of an ant and the devotion of a monk, until he became a legend. There was a lot of talk at Illinois for years about the likelihood of his getting a Nobel Prize at any moment.
John Graham, during one of his outspoken moments, commented on Baker’s achievement by saying, “The great Western civilization was made by unique and devoted scientists like Dennis Baker, but the capitalist system has turned their creative endeavor into production machines and commercial enterprises from which millions of dollars pour in to stupid and corrupt men like George Bush and Dick Cheney.”
Baker supervised dozens of MSs and PhDs, and among his students were many Egyptians who achieved dazzling results. He kept in his lab thank-you letters from them, which he always asked them to write in Arabic because he liked the shape of the letters. His positive experience with Egyptians made him curious about their country, so he borrowed several books about Egypt from the university library. One time he was invited with some professors to a reception at De Paul University. There he drank two glasses of whiskey (the limit that he allowed himself). The liquor loosened his tongue and released inside him a torrent of sympathy. He looked at Dr. Salah, who was standing next to him, and asked him in his usual, direct manner, “Dr. Salah, I have a question: all the Egyptians who’ve worked with me were talented and exceptionally hardworking and yet Egypt, as a country, is still scientifically backward. Do you have an explanation for that?”
Salah answered quickly, as if he had prepared the answer. “Egypt is backward because of the lack of democracy, no more and no less. Talented Egyptians achieve great results when they emigrate to the West; but in Egypt, unfortunately, the despotic regime usually persecutes them and passes them over.”
Baker looked at him for a moment then nodded and said, “I get it.”
This deep appreciation by the great scientist for Egyptians made him always amenable to being the advisor for their theses and dissertations. It must be mentioned here that Baker, the pious, observant Protestant Christian, did not see any differences among the races and ethnic groups. In his creed humans were all children of God, equally blessed with His sacred spirit. Thus we are able to understand his tolerant, liberal positions in departmental meetings: he evaluated each student according to his or her effort and abilities only, in total disregard for their nationality or the color of their skin (unlike George Roberts). These great ideals in which Dr. Baker believed were recently put to a difficult test. He had welcomed supervising Ahmad Danana for the PhD, but from the first instant, he noticed that Danana was a type of Egyptian that he hadn’t seen before: he was older, looked formal, and wore a full suit and a necktie. Baker did not dwell on Danana’s appearance, but the problem started with the first course, in which Baker taught his students methods of research. It was an important course because it introduced students to the basic principles they had to follow in their theses. Passing that course depended on class participation rather than on a traditional final examination. So Baker assigned students certain papers that they had to read, summarize, and comment on every week. Then he would listen to them and engage them in discussion and give them grades based on their absorption of the material and the amount of work they had put into it. Since the first class meeting Baker noticed, somewhat anxiously, that Ahmad Danana spoke on matters not germane to the subject at hand. He attributed that, perhaps, to the possibility that he did not understand what was required of him. So he summoned him to his office after class and gave him a new research paper, saying gently, “Read this paper well. Next week, in class, I’ll ask you to summarize it and comment on it.”
The following class, when it was Danana’s turn, he stood up in his full suit, cleared his throat, coughed, and began a long spiel during which he waved his hands, speechifying in his broken English, modulating his voice to influence the listeners as if he were delivering an oration in the National Party. The students followed him in bafflement as he said, “Dear colleagues, believe me. The question is not methods of research. Methods of research, praise the Lord, are copiously abundant. What I’d like for us to discuss today is the idea behind the methods of research. Within each of us there is a certain idea about method. We must, let me repeat here,
Baker, as usual, was recording everything said in class so he could accurately evaluate each student. He was so extremely perplexed by what Danana said that for a moment he thought he was an imbecile. But on second thought he deemed that unlikely and had to interrupt him decisively. “Mr. Danana, I’d like to draw your attention to the fact that what you are saying has absolutely nothing to do with the subject of this session.”
That sentence would have silenced any student instantly, but Danana, well trained in arguing and polemics in political gatherings, did not bat an eyelash and said loudly, “Professor Baker, please. I am calling upon my colleagues to come clean, to exchange the ideas that each of us has about methods of research.”
Baker’s face turned red with anger and he shouted: “Listen, you’ve got to stop talking like that. I won’t allow you to confuse your colleagues. You either speak to the subject or stop talking, or get out of here.”
Danana fell silent and sighed. His face acquired the features of a great man who has received a cruel insult but, for noble considerations that he alone was aware of, decided to transcend the insult and forget it. The class went on as usual, and when it was over, Baker stared at Danana and asked him in disbelief mixed with exasperation, “Do you have psychological problems?”
“Of course not,” answered Danana with a nonchalant smile.
“Then why didn’t you read the paper?”
“I read it.”
“But you didn’t refer to it at all. You wasted class time with meaningless words.”
Danana placed his hand on Baker’s shoulder as if he were an old friend and said as if counseling him, “I always prefer to present scientific data with a human touch that brings students closer to one another.”
Baker looked at him closely then said calmly, “It’s I who determines the way this class is taught, not you.” Then he opened a folder he was holding and took out a large stack of paper that he handed to Danana and said, “I am going to give you one last chance. Here, read this paper carefully. I want you to present me with a summary within two days at most.”
“I don’t have time this week.”
“How can you be a student and not find time for your studies?”
“I am not an ordinary student. I am the president of the Egyptian Student Union in all of America.”
“What does this have to do with research?”
“My time is not my own. It belongs to my colleagues who’ve given me the responsibility.” Baker fell silent, looking at him in true bewilderment: this was a type of human being that he hadn’t encountered before in his life. Danana went on to say in an official tone, “Professor Baker, I expect you to take my political post into consideration.”
