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THE WOLF MAN, SERGEI CONSTANTINOVICH PANKEJEFF, died in Vienna on May 7, 1979, at the age of ninety-two.
Until 1977, when the Wolf Man suffered a cardiac collapse in the hall or on the stairway of the apartment building where he lived, and was immediately hospitalized, I received letters from him rather regularly, although less frequently than in earlier years. This may have been because I replied to his letters less promptly, as well as because of the natural diminution of his energy in his eighties.
During the nineteen-seventies I visited Vienna once or occasionally twice a year. I saw the Wolf Man about twice during each visit, for several hours at a time. His conversation was much more personal and intimate than were his letters, which were largely concerned with his physical and mental health. Both in letters and conversation, the Wolf Man was very insistent on remaining anonymous throughout his lifetime, and I and others who knew his identity did all we could to prevent its becoming known. I received many letters, from analysts and others, wishing to meet him, asking his name and address, asking me questions about him or requesting some information from the Wolf Man directly. I was often in a quandary as to what to do. If I sent the Wolf Man these questions or letters, they were likely to upset him; if he knew that I had returned