Remembering Haj Ross

When I was an undergraduate at MIT (1982-1985), I took Ken Hale’s graduate introduction to syntax. I remember a large guy in the back of the room asking difficult questions throughout the semester. I thought to myself, “How could I think of such questions to ask?” He turned out to be Haj Ross, another professor at MIT. He was taking Ken’s course to catch up on the so-called Government and Binding (GB) framework. 

After that, while still an undergraduate, I signed up for Haj’s seminar on Islands. There were very few people in the class (only 2 or 3 as I recall). He could go on about any syntax topic, bringing up endless interesting examples and counter-examples from English and other languages. He was one of my earliest models for what a syntactician is supposed to be like.

One day, as we were heading to the soda machine during break, he called the cans of soda “industrial sludge” and he told me an anecdote about the Navajo: when they make rugs, they intentionally leave a small error in the rug. I may be mistaken, but I think he wanted to tell me that no work is perfect, and that the imperfections are part of the beauty of the work. That little piece of wisdom has helped me finish writing many papers.

Later in my student days, I heard one professor refer to Haj (somewhat derisively) as ‘a walking counter-example’. But to me his facility with language and English syntax was something of a miracle.

I tried to stay in contact with him, especially later when I got to NYU (2005) and started collaborating with Paul Postal. I would send Haj papers from time to time, and he would send me observations. I was looking forward to learning all kinds of things from him. I had been asking him questions about what it was like to study with Zellig Harris, and he would answer. Now, there is nobody left to ask about that. Here is an excerpt:

“After his syntax class (there were about 25 of us, crunched into a small room, with not enough chairs for us all, none of us cared, we were in the Holy Presence, we knew our great good luck).   At the end of class, some of us would come up to him, with suggestions, questions, requests for a time to see him, the usual. And some questions about syntax. Nothing interesting to report on all of the above, except the questions about syntax. Most of those he would answer immediately, vocally.  But sometimes, rarely, the questioner would have hit something which pierced through to a higher level. He would reach into his righthand pocket of the decrepit jacket he always wore, and pull out a 3X5 yellow pad, and wrote down something that had caught his fancy. After writing it, the pad would go back to its invisible home. Of course, I longed to have a pocketable, 3X5-paddable question to go into the sacred pocket…I can still hope that maybe something that I had asked made it into the sacred pocket.”

Lastly, here is a great syntax observation from Haj, that I just dug up from e-mail today. As far as I know, nobody has ever pursued this observation, which is like a golden nugget.

Fellow negationists –

Just when you thought nothing else could possibly raise:

From an old folk song:

Oh the Erie was a-rising

And the gin was a-gettin’ low

And I scarcely think

We’ll get a drink

Till we get to Buffalo

Till we get to Buffalo.

NB:  *We’ll get a drink till we get to Buffalo.

Peace and Happy New Year!

Haj