William Dusinberre, who died recently at the venerable age of 92, was a founding member of the History Department in 1965 and taught at Warwick for more than 30 years. Colleagues remember him here.

I was very sorry to hear of Bill Dusinberre’s death. I had met Bill several times at conferences while I was a graduate student at Cambridge, and then I was fortunate enough to be appointed as his replacement at Warwick on his retirement in 1996. Bill took the time to meet with me after my appointment and left several shelf-loads of books that proved very helpful in my formative years as an academic. His were big shoes to fill, since although I didn’t replicate exactly what he had taught, I was well aware that the teaching of race and slavery in nineteenth century America had a very long history at Warwick. Not long after his retirement Bill published “Them Dark Days” a visceral account of slavery in coastal Georgia and South Carolina, and we later had some very memorable in-depth conversations about the themes he raised in that book. He was always such a wonderfully warm colleague, generous with his time, and very happy to discuss research matters in a probing manner. Where we differed on interpretations and analyses he was always keen to quiz me on why I had a different view, but in a kind and thoughtful way. Bill had a long career, and a very productive retirement - publishing 3 monographs between 1996 and 2009, one that we might all aspire to!

Tim Lockley, Head of Department

I had the pleasure and privilege of knowing Bill for all but the first year of his time in the Warwick History Department. He was a fine, meticulous scholar who received an award for his work on slavery from the United States, his home country. I learnt once that he had corrected 1500 errors from a book draft over a summer vacation. He was a wonderful teacher, singled out for praise on this score by a distinguished external examiner, a rare event in my observation. As his parntner in dual interviewing, in days this was possible, I saw how his probing approach took him to the heart of what applicants were trying to say. He was also an invaluable member in staff meetings, repeatedly cutting through difficult issues to offer solutions the Department gratefully accepted . I remember too how as my second marker he gently suggested that in difficult cases the student bold enough to challenge the tutor’s view of the matter deserved the benefit of the doubt. He had in all things what I take to be the the New Englander’s vaunted adhesion to principle, yet with it a capacity for discriminating flexibility which avoided dogmatism. He could change his mind, as he did over the Vietnam War, but it took the weight of the evidence to sway him. Bill was a serious man but through the gravity a delightful grin could break through at the inconsequentialities of life.

For the latter part of his time at Warwick Bill alternated between it and Cambridge where his wife Juliet, a Shakespearian scholar, taught English at Girton College. Family was important to him. He took pleasure at the success of Juliet and his sons Edward and Martin academically and in music. Edward is the leading figure in the internationally famous Takacs string quartet and Martin a specialist in Japanese history. In his last decade Bill suffered from ill-health but retained throughout is mental alertness and interest in life and his friends.

Robin Okey

Bill Dusinberre was already a key and hugely respected member of the small Department I joined in 1968. Liberal, fair-minded and a natural diplomat, he often played an invaluable role in the sometimes heated staff meetings of the early years, guiding us towards solutions acceptable to all. Bill was deeply committed to his students, providing detailed face-to-face feedback on every essay. He was equally dedicated as Admissions Tutor. For the first thirty years we used to interview almost every applicant, a process that took up many Fridays in Terms 1 and 2. UCAS was slow to process decisions, and Bill would write individual notes to every 6^th Former we had decided to offer a place. I took over the job and the practice from him, and I can testify how much time it swallowed up! Bill was passionate about his research on American slavery, and loved discussing it. I have a vivid memory of a departmental seminar at a colleague’s house in Leamington, where Bill had us all in the palm of his hand as he described conditions on a particular slave plantation. The only visual aid he had, to explain the plantation’s physical layout, was a succession of highly animated hand-gestures, which we all craned to see. Bill could sometimes appear very serious and reserved, but the passion was always only just below the surface.

Bernard Capp