Dr. H. Dempsey Watkins was an easy fellow to like. He was wise, knowledgeable, and a positive influence on many students at Angelo State University, including this one. He died this month in San Angelo at the age of 82. I offer an update of a column published in 2002 to note the passing of a remarkable man and scholar. Incidentally, Nov. 20 marked the 100th anniversary of the 1910 Mexican revolution. Casual observers given to cursory examinations might take one look at H. Dempsey Watkins and see anything but a scholar. He looks more like a West Texas football coach (which he was for a while) than a serious student of Porfirio Diaz. For more than 30 years, Watkins, also known as H., also known as Dempsey, paced classrooms at Angelo State University, making the difficult task of bringing the past to life look easy. He was a classroom spellbinder who gives historians a good name. So vivid and detailed were his lectures on the history of Mexico -- particularly the era of the 1910 revolution that ended the reign of Diaz -- that you could hear the hoofbeats and smell the cordite. A Dempsey lecture was performance art. He would pace as he spun the story of nations in turmoil, of societies in evolution and of the impact that evolution had on people. Watkins would do it with such finesse that you couldn't help but absorb the material. When Watkins noted that Francisco Madero consulted a Ouija board in coping with life, it explained in an instant why his fledgling presidency was doomed. Madero, who assumed the Mexican presidency in 1911, relied on mysticism while others placed their faith in Mauser rifles. Madero, targeted by his military and political rivals, was assassinated in 1913. The reason I say Watkins gives historians a good name is that he was not obsessed with students memorizing dates. He encouraged and guided students through the sweep of history, making them see its relevance to modern times with a mixture of self-deprecating wit and command of the subject matter. Dempsey would note that he became Dr. Watkins because football coaches were assigned to teach history, and once he got a master's degree, he figured he might as well go all the way. My favorite Dempsey story involves a student who was struggling in a history of Mexico class. The kid told Watkins that he understood the material, but the reason he was doing so poorly was the test format. Dempsey didn't believe in multiple choice or true-false questions. He believed in seeing how the student could apply the knowledge gained in his classes. So, we wrote a lot of essays. Anyway, this kid explained that he had difficulty writing in English. Can you write Spanish? Watkins asked. Oh, absolutely, the student replied. Great, Dempsey said, next time write your answers in Spanish. That guy must have chortled for an hour when he told us about that over coffee in the Ram Room (where ASU students congregated to major in spades). He had Dempsey right where he wanted him. The next time there was a test, the student tore into the questions with the confidence of Dennis Rodman. When he got his blue book back, it had his usual 'D' on the cover. Inside, Watkins had thoroughly critiqued his answers in Spanish and, as an added bonus, corrected his spelling and grammar. Then it was our turn to laugh because we had tried to tell the guy that you can't judge a professor by his cover. If the guy had been as smart as he thought he was, he would have known that you don't get to be a Mexican scholar without spending time in ... where, class? That's right. And what language do they speak and write there? Very good. I have tried to emulate the Watkins touch in my forays into college classrooms as an adjunct instructor. Moreover, the understanding of Mexican history and its impact on that society -- and therefore ours -- has been invaluable in a newspaper career spent in a border state. More than that, though, Watkins is an example of those scholars who toil with little recognition in academia's back 40 -- institutions like Angelo State in San Angelo. He is living testimony that not all great knowledge is confined to the Ivy League, or to Austin or Houston or College Station. He cared about students, and he cared that they learn. He was a master at getting them to do it. We should all hope that his tribe increases. Arnold Garcia Jr. is editorial page editor of the Austin American-Statesman. E-mail: agarcia@statesman.com. 