Editor's note: John Langeloth Loeb '24cl, LL.D. '71, who died December 8, was the foremost benefactor in Harvard's history. He provided funds to advance the careers of junior faculty members, to increase the number of tenured professorships in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences, to create the Loeb Drama Center and a program of professional fellowships at the School of Design. "Generosity on a Grand Scale," reporting on the gift by John and Frances ("Peter") Loeb of much of their estate to the University (Harvard Magazine, May-June 1995, page 59), detailed the giving--much of it shaped by Loeb's service, over a half century, on visiting committees to the schools of design and business, the College, and the Fogg and Peabody Museums, among others. He also chaired several fundraising campaigns and served as an Overseer from 1962 to 1968.

President Neil L. Rudenstine spoke at the memorial service held for John Loeb at Temple Emanu-El in New York City on January 16. Excerpts from his remarks follow.

Loeb and Rudenstine at the Harvard Club of New York in 1995. The Loebs had just capped a long list of major donations to Harvard with a deferred gift then valued at $70.5 million.

When I think about John, I remember his remarkable strength and that wonderfully natural dignity which never deserted him during these last two or three years. But I remember most, and am moved most of all, by the profound modesty and instinctive courtesy which simply emanated from him.

One day, about a year ago, John and I were seated at his customary luncheon table at the Four Seasons, where he was having his customary made-to-order special called "Spaghetti Loeb." At one point, John said--matter-of-factly--that he had decided to endow the humanist chaplain's position at Harvard. "The...what, John?" I asked, not wanting to quite confess the full extent of my ignorance about Harvard's many ministerial parts and functions. "Yes," John said, "the humanist chaplain. He's dedicated to being humane. He makes himself available to students, he gives advice and help, and he has no official doctrine." "Deeds, not creeds," John said--a phrase that he repeated to me several times over the years.

So deeds were indeed what John did. And all of his qualities--the receptivity, the interest in the views of others, the mutuality in conversation and in human relations, the avoidance of ideology and dogma, the modesty and considerateness, and finally the emphasis on humane actions: all of these qualities led John intuitively to make philanthropy a central part of his life.

John and Peter Loeb with Ann Pusey on the opening night of the Loeb Drama Center, 1960.

His philanthropic concerns--which he shared with Peter--included a great many institutions and activities. However, I think it is fair to say that his deepest and most abiding commitment concerned education, and especially Harvard.

A full accounting of John's gifts--made with generous support from the entire family--would far surpass $100 million. And all of these gifts have come with essentially no concern for public recognition: no monuments, and no monologues, however eloquent, from the donor--only more and more modesty throughout. And so it is that John has emerged, quietly and almost imperceptibly over the decades, as the greatest single benefactor in the history of Harvard University. That is the record, pure and simple.

He is missed in more ways than we can imagine. For myself, the loss can be partly captured in the form of a mental image that will undoubtedly recur long into the future. I am settled in my seat on the plane, traveling from Boston to New York, preparing for meetings and events that will take place over the next two or three days. Invariably, at some moment, I think of the lunch that is scheduled with John: the table at the Four Seasons; the plate of Spaghetti Loeb; John's eyes, with their reservoirs of kindness; the conversation without an agenda; the hour or two, suspended out of time, like an oasis; and finally, the sense of reassurance that one had a standing invitation to come and share the rarest of all forms of friendship.