ABSTRACT
Jung’s various disciples have attracted far less attention than those of Freud; and a surprising feature of growing older is that it turns out that people one has met in real life appear increasingly in books. I was acquainted with Henry A. Murray only slightly; but to everyone connected with the post-World War II interdisciplinary department of social relations at Harvard, Henry Murray was known simply as “Harry.” Even as far away as the government department there, where I taught despite rooted prejudices against depth psychology, Harry was a charismatic figure. He came from such a wealthy background, I was reliably informed, that if the Psychological Clinic he headed ever needed any special funds he was able to dip into his own bank account to make up the difference. Murray was obviously outside the mainstream of university appointments and received tenure relatively late in life. His name was vaguely asociated with that of Jung, but Murray was not really a member of any given psychological school except perhaps his own.
