Steve Davies, my friend and my colleague passed away, leaving an unfillable gap in our hearts, and in the IO community.
Steve was like an academic father to me, and much more than that. We first met in 2006 when I joined UEA as a PhD student. I remember the first time we talked, over lunch, he totally grilled my proposal (something on merger remedies) and I kept thinking, wow this guy’s a whole new level of smart than what I had been used to before. He was a born economist. Anyone can learn technical tricks, acquire the maths, or the skills to write code, but only a few have the vision and intelligence for economics that Steve had. The things that others would work on for months and years to notice, he would see in seconds. His students loved him, and he didn’t need a blackboard to explain economics, which to me is the biggest professional compliment one can give.
We became friends very quickly, which was not surprising given that our research had many overlaps, but that wasn’t all. Supporting the same team helped a lot, of course. I remember the first time I went to Arsenal with him, a December 2006 game against Pompey. It was strange game, Arsenal came back from 2-0 down, followed by an exhaustive post-match analysis over a few pints, which started a long tradition of me doing the driving, and him sorting out the tickets. Most importantly though, I think we became such close friends because we were very similar in so many ways. Neither of us could easily suffer fools, and neither of us ever tried to conceal that. We could both be quite temperamental about our work, but luckily, it always happened that when I was upset, he was calm, and vice versa. We saw the world in a very similar way. Maybe through different ideological lenses, but certainly with a shared understanding of the things that count.
Over the years of our friendship, I learnt a lot from Steve. Academically, of course, he was a great source to learn from, but I am also convinced that his friendship has made me a better person. He was ever the optimist. I remember the many times we had a new idea, and that ‘twinkle in the eye’ (one of his favourite expressions) that we have just unearthed something special to work on, his excitement, the planning, the calculations, and the work. It was his optimism and his conviction that we were doing something immensely valuable that kept us going. Both of us had the innate ability to not take ourselves too seriously, but he helped me perfect this. I can still hear the way he used to tell me when I was upset about something: ‘Pete, life’s too short to worry about this.’ And he would always point out what really mattered. Not work, work goes away, and people will come up with better ideas, and then those ideas will also go out of fashion. No, Steve always made sure I didn’t forget what really mattered was family, friends, and life.
I think a true measure of how close to someone you are, is when you learn to communicate with them even when they’re not there. Even when we were working separately, on different things, I would often hear his voice as I was typing up a new paper: ‘oh no Pete, now you’re being too cryptic again’, or in a tone of profound approval ‘Pete, after all these years you still manage to surprise me’. Academia can be a lonely place. I never really felt supported in anything I was working on, and I’m sure most of us in academia feel similarly. In this impersonal and frigid world, Steve was a spectacular exception. He never ceased to be positive about what I was doing. His endless encouragement kept me going over the years. Without him, I would have long given up on academia, and although he’s no longer here physically, I’m sure he’ll stay with me in spirit to keep fuelling me with his unconditional faith and support.
Steve, my dear friend, rest in peace. I will really miss you.
A cherished memory with Steve, Anna Rita Bennato, and Franco Mariuzzo, enjoying a pint after a long meeting at DG COMP in Brussels.