Frederick Charles Wilkins, born on May 23, 1935, took an interest in theater and music from his early years in Lynnfield, Massachusetts. His parents, Charles and Celia Wilkins, whom he described as “doting, nurturing,” encouraged his interest in Cub Scouts, singing in a chorus, playing the piano, and acting in school plays. He recalled that during his high school years at Marblehead High he found out that Eugene O'Neill was living not far away, on Marblehead's Point O' Rocks Lane, and just knowing the coincidence led to a special bond being formed. A Harvard production of Ile, during his teen years, became his first encounter with an O'Neill play.He majored in English at Bowdoin College, earning a BA in 1957. Performing as an actor, singer, and pianist remained a fascination, even leading to his writing a musical revue, While the Cat's Away, and an opera called Age of Ice. At the University of Iowa, he persevered with English studies, earning a Master of Arts in 1958 and a PhD in 1965. Among his fellow grad students was Yvonne Shafer, who had an office across the hall, which became the scene of many an hour of laughter-filled procrastination. She jokingly recalled that he had a “deplorable habit” of playing hilarious songs on the weekends in the bar at the Jefferson Hotel.A Fulbright lectureship in Poland at the University of Lodz in 1967–69 led to an interest in Eastern European literature as a subfield of his teaching, along with Shakespeare and American drama, and also to his meeting Miroslav (Mirek) Szejner, who became his devoted partner for the next thirty-three years. Returning to the United States in 1969, he cobbled together various part-time teaching jobs, including at Northeastern University and Suffolk University. Encouraged by Stanley Vogel, his chair at Suffolk and a noted authority on American literature, Wilkins soon gained a full-time position. By 1978 he was chair of the department and remained so until 1996.In 1975, he organized a panel for the annual MLA meeting, which was in San Francisco. He admitted that the main lure was to the city he associated with Beat generation writers, but the topic of the panel was “The Enduring O'Neill: Which Plays Will Survive?” He managed to get the following A-list participants: Travis Bogard and John Henry Raleigh from UC Berkeley, Doris Falk from Rutgers, Esther Jackson from Wisconsin, Jordan Miller from Rhode Island, and Virginia Floyd from Bryant College. So fascinating was the discussion that he later made transcripts from his tape-recordings and sent them out to everyone who had attended. He called the document, “The Eugene O'Neill Newsletter, Preview Issue, January 1977.”A few months later, he issued the first official number of the Eugene O'Neill Newsletter, which contained lively responses to the preview issue and also a long and provocative meditation by Virginia Floyd on the themes of a 1976 MLA discussion of “‘Behind Life’ Forces in Eugene O'Neill.” It had become clear that a rich and diverse conversation about O'Neill, with participants eager to engage, could give rise to an academic society of O'Neillians, and so the Eugene O'Neill Society was officially launched on December 30, 1978. Fred Wilkins was among the cofounders. The Newsletter, which came out as a triennial, had a rapidly growing list of subscribers, with many beyond the coterie of participants in the annual MLA discussions, including O'Neillians from Canada, France, Hungary, Ireland, Italy, Poland, Sweden, and West Germany. Soon there would be contributors from China, Japan, and the Soviet Union. Production and book reviews began in 1978, and Wilkins was prominent among the writers.Around the time of the O'Neill centennial in 1988, Society members began talking of publishing an annual of scholarly articles on O'Neill. Instead, Wilkins suggested transforming the Newsletter into a biannual journal, and so the Eugene O'Neill Review was born with a first issue in 1989. Initially 120 pages in length, eventually under Wilkins's editorship there were issues of up to 250 pages. His colleague at Suffolk University, Bette Mandl, guest-edited an issue on “O'Neill and Gender” in 1995, and another issue was largely given over to an edition of Edna Kenton's history of the Provincetown Players, edited by Travis Bogard and Jackson Bryer, but the fifteen issues that came out up to 2001 mostly bore the stamp of Fred Wilkins—adventurous, inclusive, provocative, articulate, and always in awe of O'Neill's creative power. All the major scholars of O'Neill contributed, often repeatedly, but Wilkins always had an eye out for the newcomers, whose words were nurtured with care. Whole books took shape over those years in the pages of the journal.As a publication, the Review was impressive, but the full story of Wilkins's achievement must take in the energy and commitment he put into the O'Neill Society, of which he was vice president from 1981 through 1985 and president from 1986 through 1988. He organized three O'Neill conferences at Suffolk in 1984 (“The Early Years”), 1986 (“The Later Years”), and 1995 (“O'Neill's People”), and he was an organizer and avid participant in several other conferences, at places including Nanjing, Tokyo, and Belgium, as well as important meetings at Monte Cristo Cottage in New London and Tao House in Danville, California. He was instrumental in the inclusion of major theater artists in the discussion of O'Neill, including José Quintero, Jason Robards, Colleen Dewhurst, Ruby Dee, Theodore Mann, and Ingrid Bergman. With Travis Bogard's encouragement, O'Neill Society events frequently diverted into The Eugene O'Neill Songbook, with Fred presiding at the piano and singing. He helped in the creation of the Eugene O'Neill Medallion in 1995, an award intended for those who have made a major contribution to the study and appreciation of O'Neill, and fittingly he was among its early recipients.However, by the end of that period, Wilkins's health was beginning to fail. He retired from Suffolk in 2000 and from the editorship of the Review in 2001. His partner, Mirek Szejner, died in 2000. In his final years, Wilkins was cared for at the Seacoast Nursing Center in Gloucester, Massachusetts, where he was visited by friends.His immense contributions to the world of O'Neill studies will never be forgotten. In 2000, around the time of his retirement, Judith Barlow put together an affectionate issue of a Fred Wilkins Newsletter, with a smiling caricature of his face in the place on the front cover where the scowling face of O'Neill had appeared in the O'Neill Newsletter. Several of the admiring contributors remarked on the irony of the fact that such a socially awkward and often reclusive playwright would become the inspiration of a man like Fred Wilkins, whom Glenda Frank recalled as a “great, warm bear of a man who radiated what felt like genuine welcome.” Many great O'Neillians who enjoyed the benefit of that radiating warmth are now gone, but a sense of its lasting effect can be felt in the following tributes to his memory.I met Fred Wilkins in 1983. I had just completed my doctorate at Brandeis University the year before, had a full-time teaching job at Emmanuel College in Boston, and I was searching for direction for my postgraduate scholarly work. I had been the only grad student in the English Department at Brandeis writing a dissertation about drama after the eighteenth century, and my dissertation advisor—a wonderful professor who taught Shakespeare and Japanese theater, but the year I arrived at Brandeis, informed me that he had given up on modern drama—was no great fan of O'Neill. Nevertheless, I had successfully completed and defended my dissertation (winning over my advisor to the virtues of O'Neill, by the way). And then I met Fred.My dissertation research had, of course, led me to the Eugene O'Neill Newsletter, and I knew that its editor taught at nearby Suffolk University, so I called and made an appointment to meet with Fred. I can still remember the warm welcome he gave me the minute I walked into his Beacon Hill office. We had a long conversation about my work on O'Neill, and he offered to read my dissertation, which I'm pretty sure he later did. To this day, I recall his advice about writing: avoid the “royal we” when you're writing literary analysis. Since then, I hesitate whenever I am about to write something like, “In the first act of The Iceman Cometh, we begin to see the role of illusion,” and I rewrite it in a way that is undoubtedly better.Now Fred had no obligation to me. I was neither his student nor a junior member of his department. Yet Fred met with me, befriended me, and encouraged me to submit a lengthy abstract of my dissertation for publication in the Newsletter. This was my first publication on O'Neill; in fact, it was my first publication on anything anywhere! Fred was devoted to publishing and preserving all the scholarly work that was being produced about O'Neill, and he collected much of that work in the Newsletter. He provided a forum for all O'Neillians (I think he may have coined that term), but especially the young ones, like me.At that first meeting with Fred, he also told me about the conference he was hosting in Boston the following year, and he invited me to help him with the planning. Of course, I said I'd be happy to help in any way I could. Sitting in that office talking to Fred that day, to borrow words attributed to Susan Glaspell, “I knew what I was for.”Fred generously gave me the title of assistant conference director, and I did whatever Fred asked to help the 1984 conference run smoothly. I recall that one of my key responsibilities was to make audio recordings of as many sessions as possible. Between Tom Connolly and me, I think we covered all of the sessions, and I am pleased to know that these tapes still exist among the materials that have been so finely archived in the Frederick Wilkins Collection at Suffolk University, as Bette Mandl explains elsewhere in this issue.The 1984 Boston conference was a huge success, and it was followed by two more at Suffolk, in 1986 and 1995. These conferences were rich and diverse in content, enhanced by surprising and enjoyable performances (who will ever forget the Russian production of Long Day's Journey Into Night?), and buoyed by a healthy dose of good cheer, personified by Fred, our delightfully hospitable host, who planned it all.Although it included important scholarship, the Newsletter was not a scholarly journal; scholarly discourse was expertly mixed with an engaging collection of news and notes about recently published and forthcoming books, articles, and productions, O'Neill trivia, and more, all conveyed with Fred's unique voice. I am sure I am not alone when I say that it was Fred's witty and elegant “Editor's Foreword” at the beginning of each issue that I looked forward to the most, and it was always the first thing I read. With that voice, Fred extended the welcome he gave me in his office that day in 1983 to all who happened to pick up the Newsletter.I think that many people might imagine that the Eugene O'Neill Society must be a dark and dour group of somber scholars; they are, or likely would be, surprised to find that we are a friendly and spirited group of good-humored people, and that our conferences are known to be among the most collegial and enjoyable of any professional literary association. We owe that distinction, the enduring richness of our scholarship, and our continuing good times in no small measure to Fred.Although he did not write a major biographical or critical study, nor did he personally unearth major new revelations about the dramatist's life or artistic practice, Fred Wilkins ranks among the most important of O'Neill scholars in ensuring his legacy. Without Fred, it is entirely possible that there would be no Eugene O'Neill Society (at least not as it exists today), and perhaps no Eugene O'Neill Review. Many of us may never have found a forum for our work on O'Neill; indeed, some may never have ventured into O'Neill studies if it were not for Fred Wilkins. Without Fred, we probably never would have gathered in Boston, Bermuda, Tours, Provincetown, Danville, or Greenwich Village, nor would we likely be planning to gather next June in New London. Fred's legacy is indeed profound.In Jewish culture, perhaps the highest tribute you can pay to a person is to call him a mensch, which essentially means “a good person.” Fred Wilkins was a mensch. We (forgive me Fred, but in this case, I mean both we and I) were privileged to have had him among us and will miss him.In 2000, at Fred's retirement party at the Monte Cristo Cottage in New London, I took some photographs, my favorite of which is of Fred seated at the piano, heartily playing songs from Travis Bogard's Eugene O'Neill Songbook. This is how I like to remember Fred, and this is how I like to see him now, sitting at the piano, playing music from O'Neill's plays, and eternally welcoming all good souls to the Eugene O'Neill Society.Fred Wilkins was a multitalented individual with a mile-high list of professorial and personal accomplishments, topped by his admirable ability to remain humble. Fred was a kindly man; he was very much an individual who embodied classic notions of a New England–style university professor, as well as a man who gladly shared the limelight generated by his passion and vision. Although he was most often the primary mind behind so many important collaborative endeavors, Fred contentedly remained in the shadows, allowing his colleagues to garner most of the applause.During the 1980s it was Fred's goal to foster ways to celebrate and honor the imminent 1988 Eugene O'Neill centenary; that project brought Fred's path and mine to join. My first publication was in the Eugene O'Neill Newsletter in 1986. With Fred's mentoring, I wrote an article based on my interview with Jason Robards when he was playing Hickey in José QuinterO's revival of The Iceman Cometh at Washington's Kennedy Center. Soon after that, Fred invited me to chair a panel with guests including director José Quintero and actress Ruby Dee. This was in 1986 for the Second International O'Neill Conference, which was held at Suffolk University.Shortly after that conference's conclusion and due to Fred's coaxing, I found myself on the O'Neill Society's board of directors in the newly created position of “Performance Representative.” In the years to follow, I was part of the team that helped transition what had become the Eugene O'Neill Review to new editorship at the time Fred retired from Suffolk.I knew Fred in his prime and in what were likely some of his happiest years, when he would have joyous parties at his home, where the liquor flowed, where distinguished guests would gather and in some instances perform—including Fred, who dazzled all with his skills at the keyboard—and where Fred shared his private life surrounded by his two dogs and his devoted companion, Mirek.In the years that followed my introduction to the world of Fred Wilkins, and especially when I became the O'Neill Society's vice president and then president, Fred was always somewhere in my consciousness, even during the last few years, once he became too ill to write and mail me his always kind and thoughtful notes. In my mind and heart Fred is always present, reminding me that the focus in any aspect of my leadership responsibilities must be on inclusion rather than exclusion.Fred made sure that our “so-sigh-hotty,” as Jason Robards affectionately referred to it, was filled with bright, forward thinkers with diverse ideas, identities, and skills. Fred was the sponsor and conference chair of the first three International O'Neill Conferences, and he fostered several that followed, as well as organizing yearly O'Neill panels at the MLA and the ALA meetings. He was himself an excellent writer and top-notch O'Neill historian, and he attracted top scholars in the field to present at these conferences, appear on panels, and publish in both the Newsletter and Review. Fred brought museum curators into the O'Neill Society and arranged tours of O'Neill collections adjacent to conference locations. Fred spotted regional theater productions of O'Neill's works and made sure these were covered and that these theaters and their artistic directors participated in the conferences. He made sure that filmed African American productions of O'Neill's works were presented at the early conferences. He wanted the Society to be an international organization and courted an association with Chinese O'Neill scholars, one that led to an O'Neill panel being presented in China, which brought many new Asian members into the Society. Aside from founding and editing both the Newsletter and the Review, he instituted the Eugene O'Neill Medallion and presented the award to some of its first recipients. Most important, Fred valued service, and he was happy to serve. Through his service, Fred provided all Eugene O'Neill Society members with a model to imitate when undertaking Society business.Fred's tireless efforts to ensure that the legacy of O'Neill would continue to have relevance resulted in the fact that the Eugene O'Neill Society survives and remains as active and vital as it was when Fred Wilkins generated its foundation in 1978. The Eugene O'Neill Society owes so much to Fred. Certainly I do. There aren't enough thanks, Fred.Fred's dedication to O'Neill was matched by his generosity to scholars both young and old. I'm one of dozens who received their first words of encouragement from Fred—our mentor, guide, cheerleader, and friend. Instead of promoting himself, Fred edited publications, convened conferences, and helped create an international scholarly society where we could share our views equally. It is a happy irony for all of us that this gentle, gracious man chose the dark world of O'Neill as one of his intellectual homes.As the far-sighted founding editor of the pioneering Eugene O'Neill Newsletter in 1977, Fred was the most modest O'Neillian scholar ever. When he would on occasion ask us if we might spare the time to contribute to what later became the Eugene O'Neill Review, he seemed almost apologetic, although you could tell that the Review was clearly his pride and joy. And justifiably so, for it speedily matured into the probing, insightful, and lively publication that we all were more than happy to write for—largely due to Fred's enthusiasm, dedication, and warmth, and his unfailing insistence that it was not his input but ours that gave the Review its singular popularity among scholars and students. He was a scholarly writer's dream editor. They seldom make them like Fred anymore.Many of you reading this remember Fred as conference master-of-ceremonies and informal interlocutor extraordinaire, peerless wit, matchless musician, and host-with-the-most. Surely his greatest role was as alliterative editorial arbiter. One of Fred's favorite marginal admonishments was “horrid locution.” I mention this phrase because it shows Fred's brilliantly performed diplomatic balancing act. (Doesn't the criticism's elaborate diction almost soothe?)Fred was an academic Astaire. To the world, he made his amazing career appear effortless. Behind the scenes, though, he was a relentless perfectionist who was as hard on himself as he was easy with everyone else. No one reading this needs to be reminded that he created the Eugene O'Neill Newsletter and transformed it into the Eugene O'Neill Review. At one time or another, Fred did everything from soliciting essays to stapling the pages of the Newsletter. Many of you attended all three of the international conferences he organized at Suffolk University. The Fred you met and probably became friends with was an amiable, relaxed and devil-may-care soul. How far from the whole man was Fred's public persona.The private man was a driven and demanding task-master, who insisted on the best from himself without respite. He agonized over his introductions. He moiled over every emendation and annotation. Yet when one read the Review or watched him preside over any gathering, august or modest, Fred's warmth and charm, his affable erudition, came shining through.Another side of him you may not know was his greatness as a teacher. He both lectured and led discussions in class. Packed with puns, subtle sarcasm, and elegant effusions, his in-class talks were dazzling. He could also probe with questions, but even more engaging was his way of drawing out ideas and analysis from student commentary. I recall being awed by his high-flying lectures, and amazed a half hour later when he had the whole class arguing over a (carefully planned) point of scholarly attack. Fred's Byzantine examination instructions were another aspect of his pedagogical prowess. Determined to squeeze every pip of our knowledge, he crafted multisectioned tests that forced us to offer the best of what we had retained and demonstrate both textual details and intellectual flourishes in our responses.He loved O'Neill. He walked and hitchhiked all the way to New York from his hometown of Lynnfield, Massachusetts, to see Long Day's Journey Into Night in 1956. Fred's work on behalf of O'Neill mirrored his support of his colleagues and friends. The impatience he showed from time to time was superficial, almost an affectation. Fred's loyalty to and persistent championing of his bons amis (just about the entire Eugene O'Neill Society among scores of others) was the letter and spirit of magnanimity.I had the privilege of being his student and his friend; he was a great, great friend. He set me on the path my professional life has taken. Even now I hear his mellifluous voice and gentle laugh. I think of so many happy hours at the theater with him and his casually adulatory manner of recalling great performances he'd seen. To hear him reminisce was to have been there yourself. Fred wrote songs, and he loved to play the piano and sing. The song he favored as a finale was always “Ol' Man River.” O'Neillians have no doubt that Fred has crossed over Jordan as deftly as he made his way through life, and that like the Mississippi, he'll “just keep rollin' along.”A special man left us. Fred Wilkins will be remembered by all who had even the briefest contact with him. Warm and encouraging, he created the Eugene O'Neill Newsletter, now the Review, and guided it through the years with skill and intelligence, in addition to writing sharp reviews of O'Neill productions on a regular basis. This gentle man's commitment to O'Neill was strong and deep.Personally, I owe him a great debt because he republished a short piece I had written for the New York Times, “Honoring O'Neill,” way back in 1978. He asked my permission to do so, I said yes, and our relationship began, a professional relationship that became, in a short time, a friendship of good feelings and shared thoughts, usually on theater. The small circle of my acquaintanceship is getting smaller as the years pass, and it became much smaller with the death of so fine a man as Fred Wilkins.When I think of Fred, I think of his warmth, his kindness, and his welcoming smile. I first met Fred at the 1986 International Eugene O'Neill conference in Boston. At the time, as a young wife and mother who had temporarily dropped out of the tenure-track, I was cobbling together part-time teaching positions and trying to turn my dissertation into a book. Fred's warm response to my suggested paper topics when we corresponded gave me the courage to come to my first O'Neill conference. All the giants of O'Neill scholarship would be there, and it was with some trepidation that I entered the large reception room that first day, knowing no one and feeling out of place amidst all these luminaries. Fred must have known somehow, because he came toward me, hand outstretched in welcome as if we were old friends. The whole conference was designed to include everyone, both established scholars and newcomers, from the initial session where we all introduced ourselves (there must have been fifty or sixty of us) to the one-panel-per-time-slot format. Fred worked his magic and, in very short order, a palpable sense of camaraderie prevailed.This, I would learn, was vintage Wilkins. Over the years, at every conference, in every venue, Fred was at the center, if not at the helm, always with a kind and encouraging word, always happy to lend his support. Like so many others before and after me, I came to think of him as a mentor as well as a friend. If I had a question or a problem or an idea I wanted to try out, Fred was the person I turned to. When I needed a letter of recommendation for a tenure-track job that opened up at the University of Texas–Arlington, Fred wrote enthusiastically in my support. His EOR review of my book on O'Neill's late plays, The Banished Prince, was characteristically generous; there are lines from that review that made my heart sing. I will always think of him as the one who introduced me to the community of O'Neill scholars and the world of O'Neill scholarship, enriching my professional and personal life beyond measure.I also think of Fred's wit and his love of language. He had an uncanny ability to turn factual, mundane communications into elegant—and often tongue-in-cheek—prose. I choose three examples from his forewords to the Newsletter. The first is in reference to correspondence regarding the upcoming 1986 conference: “To all who have already waited long for answers to their letters, I promise to respond as soon as I can…. Interest in the conference has been extraordinary, and I've been (figuratively) as snowed under as my friends in the middle west have recently been in sleety fact. But the snows will melt, the letters will be answered, and Boston in late May promises to be restoratively floral and balmy.” From the 1985 Summer–Fall edition: “This, the twenty-sixth issue of the Newsletter, is the first to be composed on a word processor, as the publication and its Luddite editor are joltingly wrenched into the world of mid-twentieth century technology—without, I hope, any excessive jolts to readers' sensibilities.” Or this from the foreword to the Spring 1986 issue: “Having waxed presidential in the Society section and laced the news pages with conference notes and messages, I can (almost) hold my diaskeuastal tongue for once and list, in semi-random order, the titles (and deliverers) of papers so far scheduled for the May conference.” Everything Fred wrote was good reading, reflecting not just his fresh way of saying things but also his conviction that life was to be enjoyed.Finally, I think with profound gratitude of Fred's deep and abiding love of O'Neill's drama and the ways he turned that love into gifts to us all: cofounding the Society and shepherding it through its early years, creating and editing the Newsletter and overseeing its transformation into the scholarly and substantive Review, welcoming and encouraging new generations of scholars. If there is a father of O'Neill studies in the United States, it is without question Fred Wilkins. We all stand on his shoulders. We will miss you, Fred. Rest in peace.Fred Wilkins's contribution to promoting the study of O'Neill's life and works is massive and multidimensional. To me, the irreplaceable historical role he played is a combination of visionary architect and industrious builder for the international O'Neill community. Toward that goal, he created and rigorously maintained two related platforms for community members: the Newsletter (later the Review) and the sequence of international conferences. On and around these platforms O'Neill critics, scholars, artists and enthusiasts, of all nationalities and races, old and young, gather, communicate, and reach out.I met Fred for the first time at the March 1984 international conference, “Eugene O'Neill, the Early Years.” It was kind of him as the organizer and director of the event to accept the proposal I submitted very late and insert my name into the tight program. This was the first academic conference I ever attended in my life. I was nervous. I could neither follow the others delivering their papers nor hear my own voice at the panel I was in. Fred must have noticed my uneasiness, and so he said something perfectly reassuring to me as we walked down the staircase during the break. I remember this act of kindness every time I hear a young scholar give a presentation.We have been friends ever since. When I came back for his second conference in May 1986, he and Mirek took me to Anthony's Pier 4 for lobster. I was also invited to be a guest of honor at their house party on another occasion. I did not know then that he had envisioned a world celebration in another two years for O'Neill's centenary. At the conference, Yoshiteru Kurokawa from Hosei University, Tokyo, and I happened to sit side by side without knowing each other. We were both inspired and moved by Fred's vision and the enthusiasm he instilled in every detail of the conference he organized and directed, and the Newsletter that he founded and edited. We two, and Marc Maufort, with little discussion among us, positively answered Fred's call for a world celebration of O'Neill in two years. The result was of course the successive international O'Neill conferences and theater festival productions in Belgium, Nanjing, Shanghai, and Tokyo. Since then, there has been a national conference in China every other year on O'Neill and his fellow American dramatists.Fred's spiritual legacy and his exemplary work will continue to inspire us members of the international O'Neill community he helped to create and develop.I actually met Fred in person only once, and the occasion was very emotional. I trained up to Boston in 2005 for a changing-of-the-guard event in which I would become the new editor of the Eugene O'Neill Review and effec