Julia Thompson could have stood out for initiating science outreach work in South Africa –… Julia Thompson could have stood out for initiating science outreach work in South Africa — work that took physics teams to Capetown and Johannesburg high schools and brought South African teachers to the United States.

She could have stood out for her focus on minorities when offering physics research experience opportunities to undergraduate students.

But, to the people who knew her best, Julia Thompson stood out for her unwavering spirit, her love of students and family, her cheerful energy and, possibly, her hairstyle.

Former graduate student Mark Clemen remembered Julia as the professor who “never seemed to pause in the hallways, always had a mix of student papers and research papers with her wherever she was rushing to, and who — for ease and efficiency — wore pig-tails.”

Julia, 61, was killed in a car accident outside St. Louis Aug. 16. Originally from Illinois, Julia was in the area caring for her mother. Julia’s husband, David Kraus, who had also done research at Pitt, was injured, but survived the accident.

Compiling his memories in writing, Clemen noted that Julia did not belong to the “sleepy academic group.” She often reported devoting 116 hours to work every week — the lion’s share of the 168 hours contained in a week. When the University responded by asking for a more accurate average, and not a maximum number of hours worked, Julia always replied that 116 hours was the average, Clemen recalled.

A full professor in Pitt’s physics and astronomy department, Julia came to Pitt in 1972 and specialized in high-energy physics, according to Pitt Professor Bill Cleland. She dedicated much time to research, in addition to teaching, and while she began by often working in groups of five people or so, she eventually worked on projects with as many as 200 people.

“She got to be known by all the collaborators because she was an unusual person — very high energy,” Cleland said. When not at Pitt, Julia spent time at labs, working 10 years at the Brookhaven Lab in Long Island, N.Y.; 10 years at CERN, a European nuclear research center in Geneva; and years at Novosibirsk, in Siberia.

Despite her busy schedule, Julia made students feel that she always had time for them. Those students who visited her to discuss their academic interests could quickly find extra work, if they wanted it, and many ended up traveling to labs around the world, thanks to Julia, Clemen said.

“She was a great believer in one-on-one contact with students,” Cleland added, explaining that Julia sometimes scheduled individual, weekly meetings with every student in her classes.

But few students who knew Julia would have considered complaining to her about their workloads.

“She was an inveterate do-it-yourselfer,” Clemen recalled. “No job was too difficult or too small for her to try. Her graduate students were often embarrassed into action by her own action.”

Julia revealed her inspirational power once while setting up a nuclear physics experiment, Clemen said. Working with a nearly all-male group, in which everyone else labored to carry wall-building lead bricks one at a time, Julia carried two bricks in every trip. When the men in the group began following Julia’s example and carrying two at a time, Julia asked aloud if three bricks would be too heavy.

“She was a tough task-master,” Cleland said of Julia’s teaching style, but he added that students got a “very good teacher” in Julia.

“She was a delightful person,” Cleland added. “She was always cheerful and had boundless energy.”

When Julia’s daughter’s home in St. Louis was plagued by a lead-paint problem, Julia immediately responded — not by hiring someone to take care of the problem, but by taking a course in lead-abatement work, removing the paint herself, and writing a paper on lead paint removal, Cleland said.

“She had a raw survivor’s approach to life, with an air that the American pioneers doubtless had,” Clemen explained.

And although Julia’s area of expertise can often become mired in theory, she never did, according to Clemen.

“She understood theory well enough. I learned more about optics theory from being her teaching assistant than I had in my own classes,” Clemen said. “Yet, to her, if a theory didn’t lead to an action or a measurement, then it ‘wasn’t worth a plugged nickel.'”

Julia’s strong opinion about the usefulness of pure theory, which seemed to accompany a myriad of strong opinions, did not always earn her the admiration of others.

“To know Julia was to react to her — no one who knew her could be indifferent,” Clemen said. “Her friends nearly worshipped her; others could barely tolerate her.”

Complementing Julia’s strength, however, a softer side appeared to many of her students, peers and friends.

“She didn’t confront people,” Clemen said. “She could even be shy around strangers, but she spoke plainly.”

While Cleland was still at Yale, in the 1960s, a graduate student working on a lab apparatus once asked Cleland if he could bring a girlfriend along to see the lab equipment. The girlfriend came in and expressed true fascination in what her boyfriend did.

That girlfriend was Julia

“She was already turned on by high-energy physics,” Cleland explained.