Don—by which name I knew him since I became his graduate student in 1956—belonged to a rare breed of academicians: he was a devout man for whom the personal adventure of life and human history in its totality had a moral dimension; in his quest for understanding himself and others, there was always an underlying moral drama; there was not just the realm of the true and the false but also a fundamental layer of the right and the wrong. For Don, there was always the issue of good and evil. In the end, men and women, the lofty, such as Stolypin (about whom he wrote insightfully), and the humble, such as the Russian peasants in Siberia (to whom he also gave considerable scholarly attention), all were accountable for their individual and collective actions. We are all free moral agents, he observed, including Lenin (about whose early political struggles he wrote brilliantly). It is a perspective Don never abandoned as the Soviet Union dissolved into the amorphous and morally complex post-Soviet era, a characteristic which qualified Don as a persistent humanist. The individual human person endowed with the capacity to sustain immutable moral values was Don's ultimate interest as an historian and teacher.