Felix was a man of paradoxes. Always the ‘European gentleman’, he eschewed the politically correct. He was honest to a fault. When criticism was appropriate, he was the ultimate democrat, treating professors, students and especially himself with equal doses of incisive wit, often laced with sprinklings of sarcasm. This neglect of the politically correct probably contributed to the fact that, although many of his students became professors, he was denied that richly deserved title. Under his sometimes inscrutable exterior there was warmth, charm and mischievous humour.
I learned early on that one had to earn his respect; none of that superficial North American coddling from Felix. All the more satisfying to have felt his ultimate acceptance. When he retired, my wife and I received an invitation from him and Kathleen for dinner at his home. This was the beginning of an affectionate and close relationship in which he was mentor and encouraging friend.
Felix's high academic standing lent credibility to geriatric psychiatry and encouraged the next generation of leaders to pursue this neglected area. Remarkably, he accomplished this in a single-handed manner by dint of adaptive obsessionality, perseverance, insightfulness and intelligence. Our profession is in debt, not least for his courage, his intellect and his honesty.
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