The obituary notice of Willie WATTS MILLER

My condolences to Liz and family on your loss.

Part 3

During that trip, we spent an evening in Willie’s office, surrounded by his books and papers, drinking whiskey. The next morning, just as we were about to head to Oxford to meet with the executives at Berghahn Books, Willie came to tell me, looking quite embarrassed, that he couldn’t drive to Oxford because we’d had too much to drink the night before, and that we’d have to take a taxi. While Willie seemed embarrassed about having had too much to drink and being unable to drive me, I, for my part, felt bad that he would have to pay for a taxi on such a long ride. I’ve often found myself in these kinds of amusing situations where there was a funny disconnect between what we were experiencing and how we were feeling.

Willie was a delightful colleague—discreet, and always kind. How many times, when introducing him to others, did I describe him as an “English” colleague ? And every time, in a gentle little voice, he would say, “No : Scottish”. About his Scottish roots, I dared once to asked how it fills to wear a kilt. The French are always both fascinated and intrigued by this incredible garment. And Willie replied laconically: “I wore a kilt a few times for official ceremonies, it’s very comfortable”.
He also understood very well French, he could read, as far as I know, easily. But for some reasons I never knew, he did not speak it in front of me.

Willie Watts-Miller was a brilliant mind, remarkable for his modesty and discretion, and it was a pleasure to exchange ideas and draw inspiration from him. Il va beaucoup me manquer (I will miss him a lot).

Part 2

I also will never forget how, one day, around a small café table, in Montreal, during a conference, he asked me to replace him as the editor of the Durkheimian Studies journal. I felt so proud and honored!
Philippe Besnard, the founder of the journal, had been my first mentor in this field of research; from that day on, I found in Willie my second mentor, who enabled me to take on this role that was so symbolically important to me. I felt that I had now become one of the more senior colleagues.

I spent a few days with Elisabeth and him in their home, for he could introduce me to Vivian Berghahn, the publisher of our journal, once I was appointed editor-in-chief. We had many delicious and interesting discussions.
I was moved also to discover how Willie was in love with Elisabeth and took care of her. He was describing her as a free, brilliant, and independent woman, and he was so attentive to her well-being.
I was touched and amused by their relationship. One day, we went out for a drink at a pub with some of their other couples. And during the conversation, Elisabeth and their friends were gently teasing Willie, who listened with a smile. I ventured to say, laughing, “I didn’t know you were like that—the ‘punching bag’ for your wife and friends” (I meant to say “scapegoat,” but the word slipped my mind). And Willie replied, “Yes,” with a loving smile on his lips.
He also showed me some photos from his youth, which Elisabeth and I looked at together. In some of them, he was wearing a beard and clothes that made him look like a 1960s hippie. When I allowed myself to make a joking remark about it, Elisabeth, of course, went one step further by gently teasing him about his look.

Tribute by Jean-Christophe Marcel

Part 1

I will always remember how kindly I was invited to Durkhiemian Studies’ conferences, managed by the British Centre of Durkheimian Stuides in Oxford, about 25 years ago, and how warmly he, and his colleagues, welcomed me, when I was a beginner in the career.
The members of the Centre were all from my father's generation, and I quickly sensed a kind of paternal, caring warmth when I was around them. But at the beginning Willie was more reserved, and I didn't really get to know him until later.

During this first visit, my English was quite terrible, and even if I was allowed to do my speech in French, I was answering randomly without really understanding the questions. And I noticed how kind and lenient were Willie and Bill Pickering, the head of the Center.
Willie kept a gentle smile on his face, to reassure me, and my shame finally disappeared.

Another time, during another visit in Oxford, I was wearing jeans and a shirt during the conference, and I noticed that all my British colleagues, including Willie, were wearing a suit and tie.
At the end of the conference a dinner was planned in what I perceived as a fancy, expensive restaurant. I told myself I'm going to make up for it this time by wearing a suit and a tie.
Arriving at the restaurant, all my British colleagues wore jeans and shirt! I was Ashamed of my mistake—having once again failed to follow the dress code—I must have shown my embarrassment pretty quickly. But, once again, I sensed Willie’s kindness; he did everything he could to make me understand, without actually saying so, that none of this mattered.

Dear Willie,

We didn‘t have many opportunities to meet you in person, however, when we did, it was always a pleasure.
With your positive and friendly nature, you were always interested in the people you did talks to and ever willing to share your vast knowledge. You are leave a lasting impression.

The love and devotion as you cared for your wife, was admirable. It is therefore no surprise, that between the two of you, you brought up such a lovely son - someone who, like you, is open and approachable, and who has become an indispensable part of our family. Thank you for that - well done.

All that remains now, is for us to wish you the best of luck on your final journey.

After all, the most beautiful legacy a person can leave, is the ability to bring a smile on someone‘s face whenever they are remembered.

With love Julia, Alex, Max und Louis von Guilleaume

R.i.p William, only met you a couple times, but had good chats on the phone. Wendy xx