
I recently learned from a blog comment that Herman Chernoff passed away last week at the age of 103. He was born the same year as my dad.
I first met Chernoff–it’s not like he was a particularly formal guy, but I can’t imagine calling him “Herman”–when I was a student at MIT. I’d taken a statistics course and really liked it, and I wanted to know what class to take next. The instructor, Stephan Morgenthaler, recommended I ask Chernoff, who in turn told me that MIT didn’t have much to offer in that area so I should take a course at Harvard. Which I did. Then a year later I enrolled in Harvard’s statistics program, and Chernoff had moved there too. That year I signed up for his theoretical statistics course. It pretty much covered what I’d already seen in earlier classes, and it was offered at some early morning hour (8:30, perhaps) so I don’t think I actually attended any lectures after the first week of classes. Chernoff was very mellow about this–he didn’t give me a hard time, and he told me that if I could do the final exam I’d pass the class, so it was no problem. Only in retrospect did I realize it was stupid of me to miss the classes. Chernoff had a penetrating mind, and even discussions of familiar topics–maybe, especially with familiar topics–would have been chances for interesting, open-ended explorations. So, my bad. I made good use of many of my intellectual opportunities at Harvard, but this one I wasted. I was following typical student reasoning, thinking about course requirements and syllabuses rather than of opportunities for deep exploration.
What else can I tell you about Chernoff? I think his most important contribution was his 1954 paper on the distribution of the likelihood ratio, from which the above images are drawn. I thought a lot about these pictures when working with a positivity-constrained model in my Ph.D. thesis:

Related ideas motivated my work on posterior predictive checking, and this remains an area with challenging open questions.
What else? Somebody heard that, when he was a professor at Stanford, Chernoff had been known as “the Ax” because he was so harsh. But by the time he got to Harvard, he was in his sixties and had mellowed. Indeed, he was a nice guy, also a good person to talk to about statistical ideas. He would come to the statistics seminar every week–we would all attend all of them, we had a cohesive intellectual community in that small department. He’d sit in the front row, often he’d fall asleep in the middle, but then he’d invariably wake up at the end and ask a good question. It was cool to have someone around who could offer a thoughtful understanding of just about anything.
A couple decades after that, when I was considering a job at Harvard, Chernoff suggested we buy his house in Brookline–I guess that he and Judy were ready to move to some sort of assisted-care place. That would’ve been kinda cool to have that lineage. When Shaw-Hwa was at Columbia, he lived in what used to be Diana Trilling’s apartment. I guess that means it was Lionel Trilling’s apartment too, but to me Diana is the more interesting writer. Lionel’s always seemed like a sort of Reinhold Niebuhr figure: someone who was written about with a lot of respect in his time but whose writings now seem empty. Like Diana but not Lionel or Reinhold (in my opinion), Chernoff’s writings from the 1950s remain readable and interesting today. Also a banger is 1972 monograph of sequential analysis and optimal design. You wouldn’t go for it to find up-to-date methods, but read it from beginning to end and you’ll get a lot of clean insights.







