In 1955, as a freshman, I was walking in front of Sproul Hall. A senior friend pointed to an elderly man in a black suit and asked, “Do you know who that is?” I didn’t know then that he was Alexander Kerensky, leader of the Russian Revolution for four months in 1917 before being overthrown by Lenin. I looked him up in the library and the following day found him again on campus. This time I approached and introduced myself. We formed a walking friendship for three wonderful weeks, meeting each day at the same place. Just before his departure from Berkeley, he turned and pointed a boney finger at me saying, “Now, son, I’m going to tell you THE TRUTH about the revolution.” With that experience, how could a young student not fall in love with history?