WILLIAM M. KAYS (1920-2018)

BY ROGER SCHMIDT, FRANK INCROPERA,
LESLIE KAYS HUNGER, MARGARET KAYS FAYE,
ELIZABETH ROWAN-MITCHELL, AND
WILLIAM MITCHELL

WILLIAM MORROW KAYS was a worldwide expert in heat transfer and the cooling of machines, a field in which Stanford University still excels. Bill served as chair of mechanical engineering at Stanford from 1961 through 1972. He then served as dean of Stanford Engineering from 1972 to 1984, when the term “Silicon Valley” rose to prominence, and helped spur the school’s rise from a well-regarded teaching institution to a globally renowned research center. His immediate successor, former dean James Gibbons (NAE 1974), said that “Bill Kays helped lay the foundation for what Stanford Engineering has become.” He died peacefully at age 98 on Sept. 9, 2018, surrounded by his family on the Stanford campus, his home since 1938.

Bill was born in 1920 in Norfolk, Virginia, to Herbert Kays, a captain in the U.S. Navy, and Margaret Fechteler, the daughter of a prominent naval family. He spent his childhood in various coastal cities, including San Francisco, Honolulu, Washington, D.C., and San Diego. He graduated from Coronado High School in 1938 with an interest in cars and engineering. When he was a senior in high school, his father bought him a $20 car. He said it was a terrible car, and he spent his whole senior year learning how to take it apart and put it together. But this effort sparked his interest in mechanical engineering. Always a fan of the Stanford Cardinal football team, Bill studied mechanical engineering at Stanford and graduated with a B.S. in 1942.

After entering Stanford in 1938, he became a cadet in the school’s Reserve Officer Training Corps. Shortly after graduation, he was called to serve in the U.S. Army and ended up on the front lines during World War II as a combat engineer in the First Infantry Division. Leading up to D-Day, when he landed at Omaha Beach in Normandy on June 6, 1944, he spent months in the south of England preparing for the invasion. He and his men played a role in the invasions of North Africa, Tunisia, Sicily, and Normandy. (Bill is one of the soldiers wading ashore in Robert Capa’s iconic Life Magazine photographs of D-Day at +1.5 hours. He appears in five of the 11 famous D-Day photographs.) He was in Czechoslovakia on Victory in Europe Day. Despite the odds, he survived almost two years of active combat. The war years (1942-45) remained some of the most formative in his life. In 1994, Bill wrote a memoir of that time called Letters from a Soldier (Wimke Press, 2010), based on 123 letters he wrote to his family back home, as well as photographs and recollections.

In 1947, he married Alma Campbell. She had served as a WAVE (Navy Women Accepted for Volunteer Emergency Service) during World War II. Together they raised four daughters, spending holidays and summers at their cabin in the Sierra Nevada. After Alma died of cancer in 1982, Bill married the former Judith Scholtz Adams.

After the war, he returned to Stanford and completed his M.S. and Ph.D. in mechanical engineering on the GI Bill. He then embarked on a successful career at Stanford, starting first as an assistant professor in 1952 and eventually becoming dean of the School of Engineering in 1972, until he retired in 1990.

His primary research focused on convective heat transfer, with particular interest in turbulent boundary layers and turbulent flow in tubes or pipes. He also studied heat exchangers, especially compact types used in gas-flow heat exchangers. His work led to books and publications that became foundational in the development and understanding of modern radiators and other heat exchange technologies. With his mentor, Alexander Louis London, Bill co-authored the 1955 text Compact Heat Exchangers (National Press), which became a global reference. The book was instrumental in the development of competitive naval and transport gas-turbine engines. In 1966, he co-authored the graduate textbook Convective Heat and Mass Transfer (McGraw-Hill) widely used in engineering departments.

As dean, Bill led efforts to hire and enroll more women, championed the use of computers across the school, and funded numerous research programs and projects. He even promised a Radio Shack TRS-80 to any professor who used the device for research or teaching. “He had lines of faculty outside his office,” recalled Channing Robertson, who served as chair of the Chemical Engineering Department under Bill. “They would come with their program; he would bless and anoint it, and they would go away with their computer.”

Kenneth Down, an associate dean during Bill’s tenure, recalled that to ensure attendance at his 8 a.m. classes, Bill would flip two quarters. If both landed on heads or both on tails, he would give the students a quiz. “He was really a wonderful person with high standards and high principles,” Down said. “He wanted the best for everybody.”

But his true passion was teaching. In a 2013 interview for the Stanford Historical Society’s oral history project, he said he learned to teach in the Army but fell in love with the profession as a graduate student. His natural abilities as a teacher were always on display with his daughters. Leslie, one of his daughters, has fond memories of her dad’s patient and gentle approach to teaching her how to drive. He explained things clearly while also giving his daughters the freedom to discover things for themselves.

He spent two years at Imperial College London on Fulbright scholarships and was a fellow of the American Society of Mechanical Engineers (ASME) and the National Science Foundation (NSF). In 1965, he received the ASME Heat Transfer Division Annual Award for Outstanding Contribution to the Science of Heat Transfer, and in 1992 he was awarded the prestigious Max Jakob Memorial Award. Throughout his career, he held numerous roles in professional organizations, including as a member of the National Engineering Association; the Honorary Editorial Advisory Board of the International Journal of Heat and Mass Transfer (1981); vice chair of the American Society of Engineering Education (ASEE) Engineering College Council (1981); member of the ASEE Board of Directors for the Engineering College Council (1976-79); member of ASEE Projects Board (1975-78); representative to Max Jakob Board of Award of the Committee on Honors (1975-77); member of the NSF Advisory Panel for Engineering, Chemistry and Energetics (1974); chair of the Editorial Advisory Board for the Journal of Heat Transfer (1966-69); and member of the Executive Committee of the ASEE Southwest Section (1961-62).

Judith Scholtz Kays said he was proudest of his family and his military service. “Bill was a natural leader who could always see the big picture,” she added. Margaret Kays Faye, class of 1975, agreed, noting that a key lesson she learned from her father was how to handle a crisis. “He would never dwell on why the crisis happened,” she said. “He’d just go into solution mode.”

He found his greatest joy in the company of his family. He was deeply interested in their lives, generous with his time, and always fully engaged. He had a rare ability to connect with people of all ages, accepting them as they were and allowing them to be themselves. At times, he could be serious and reflective; at others, he played the role of a trickster, keeping everyone guessing about who the joke was really on. Humble and understated, Bill made those around him feel welcome and at ease.

He especially loved spending time with his family at their cabin in the Sierras. “This cabin has been in our family since the 1950s when my paternal grandparents bought the land and then had the cabin built in 1950s ‘rustic’ cabin style,” said Leslie. “My father inherited it, and it has been in our family ever since. To this day, my sisters and I, and now our children, treasure it as a kind of ‘ancestral’ home which holds memories that are irreplaceable. We ‘feel’ my dad there, so that we are always reminded of the way he was when he could fully be his quirky and lovable self when we are there.” She added that Bill “wore the same pair of Levi’s jeans every time. They ‘lived’ at the cabin, and he was unbothered by how stiff they might become with the accumulated dirt.”

Happy hour was a cherished ritual. “Every day at the cabin was punctuated by the strong cocktails he would prepare as we sat around on the back deck and discussed all manner of worldly events,” Leslie recalled. “We would have a ‘work weekend’ every year, and he loved to ‘supervise’ this as he went back and forth to the hardware store for supplies.”

In his later years, his daughters took turns bringing him up to the cabin for weeklong visits. As Leslie recalled, “He had slowed down quite a bit and was content to sit on the back porch watching the hummingbirds feeding from the hummingbird feeder as he became familiar with particular birds and their feeding habits. He remained quite sharp in terms of remembering many details about our family life, and we had a wonderful time reminiscing. He loved being ‘waited’ on but was game to go into town from time to time to catch a restaurant meal. Those are precious memories.”

Along with his lifelong passion for Stanford football — he attended games right to the end — he enjoyed traveling, photography, bird-watching, archaeology, and history. His connection to England, first forged during his time preparing for D-Day, continued throughout his life. He took two sabbaticals from Stanford in 1959-60 and 1966-67, both times conducting research at Imperial College London. In the summer of 1960, the family of five fit tightly into their tiny Hillman and toured Europe, visiting many of the World War II battle sites where Bill had served. For his young family, the experience sparked a lasting love of travel and a deep appreciation for other cultures that continues to this day.

Bill was much more than an engineer. He and his wife Judith shared a love of history and archaeology, taking trips across Europe, Africa, and China. Elizabeth said that one of the things her dad loved most was discussing the state of the world. “He always had a great insight into the behavior of societies,” she said, and brought “a broad historical perspective” to every conversation.

Bill’s passion for engineering and education provided lifelong energy and inspiration to many. He transcended his role as a researcher and teacher, becoming a professional and personal role model to his students and peers alike. He was highly regarded at Stanford for his administrative skills, pragmatic insight, and ability to work amicably with people from all walks of life.

Frank Incropera (NAE 1996), a former student, wrote:

“I remember Bill as an excellent teacher, mentor, and scholar, as well as a person of great integrity, high standards, and humility. I had him as an instructor in two graduate convection heat transfer courses, which provided an excellent foundation for much of my own teaching and research. When my research advisor took a leave of absence from Stanford, Bill filled in to guide me through the last year of my dissertation, which involved an experimental and theoretical study of convection heat transfer from thermal plasmas to water-cooled surfaces. Although he had never worked with ionized gases, he pushed me to clearly articulate unique characteristics and their effects on heat transfer. When I think about individuals who both challenged and inspired me during the formal parts of my education, he was very close to, if not, the best.”

“Colleagues and friends regarded Bill with respect and affection, knowing he would always listen and act fairly,” said Judith. “He also had a great capacity for enjoying family and life’s pleasures.” That was true to the end. On Sept. 8, 2018, Bill’s daughter Margaret Faye and son-in-law Bill Mitchell picked him up to attend the Stanford-USC football game. Around halftime, Bill, who never left early, complained of not feeling well. He was taken to the hospital, where he passed away peacefully and painlessly within hours from pneumonia.

Bill is survived by his three daughters from his first marriage: Leslie Kays Hunger, Margaret Kays Faye, and Elizabeth Rowan-Mitchell; his two stepsons, Dan Adams and Robert Adams; his 15 grandchildren; and his 13 great-grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his first wife, Alma, and his eldest daughter, Nancy Kays (1948-2011). His second wife, Judith Kays (née Schultz), passed away in 2021.

References:

Beyer R. 2019. Visionary engineering school dean. Stanford Magazine, March.

Kays W.M. 2010. Letters from a Soldier, A Memoir of World War II. CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform. Available at https://www.amazon.com/Letters-Soldier-Memoir-World-War/dp/1453741321.

NAE. 1977. Nomination of William M. Kays.

Stanford Historical Society. 2013. William M. Kays: An Oral History. October 17.

Stanford Report. 2018. William Kays, former dean of School of Engineering, dies at 98.