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Frederick H. Krantz (1941-2026): 'You never know what you don't know'

The Liberal Arts College cofounder was also one of the longest serving professors
May 27, 2026
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By Jarrett Carty


Frederick Krantz wearing a suit and addressing a room with a microphone

Concordia’s Liberal Arts College (LAC) mourns the passing of Frederick H. Krantz, who passed away on May 3, 2026 at the age of 85. Fred was one of the LAC’s longest serving professors; he was also its cofounder. Shortly after the merger of Loyola and Sir George Williams into Concordia University, Fred and his best friend, the late Harvey Shulman, founded the LAC. Their legacy to Concordia lives on as the college nears its 50th anniversary.

Before coming to Concordia, Fred pursued his passion for history at Columbia University in New York City, where he earned his BA. He then went on to complete his PhD at Cornell University in Ithaca, where he also met his wife of 64 years, Lenore, with whom he would raise four children: Lise, Ian, Stefan, and Adam.

Fred was a scholar of the Italian Renaissance, and had a deep knowledge of modern history, including the twentieth century and especially the Second World War. His seminar classes inspired generations of students to plumb the depths of primary texts from antiquity to the modern age, and to rigorously examine and interrogate historical sources.

Since the news spread of Fred’s passing, former colleagues and students have shared many fond memories of his teaching, mentorship, and friendship through his many decades of service.

‘You never know what you don’t know.’

LAC Alumna Julie Amblard, who studied in the first LAC class from 1979-82, recalls meeting Fred on a hot August morning in 1979, when she arrived for her interview at the LAC. “My conversation with Professor Fred Krantz confirmed something essential: you never know what you don’t know. The LAC would become the beginning of a lifelong journey — one that teaches you to unravel the mysteries of humanity, and to understand that learning is never finished. Fred was the soul, the spirit, and the founder of the LAC. His conviction about education was absolute. He believed deeply in the importance of knowing the roots of Western Civilization in the broadest and richest sense. His drive and dedication to the College and its students went far beyond duty. His mission was simple and profound: to shape us into well rounded, thoughtful, and responsible individuals — his way of making the world a better place.”

An extraordinary legacy

Professor Ariela Freedman remembers the classroom experience and the legendary days of founding the program. “Before he was my colleague, Fred was my professor. I have fond memories of his warmth and erudition in the classroom. I remember his story of driving down to the United States with Harvey Shulman and filling a van with books for our first library. Together they built the LAC with their shared vision of a place animated by the love of learning, and that is an extraordinary legacy.”

The constant and funny NYC trip guide

As a native of the Bronx, Fred helped institute the long LAC tradition of annual student trips to New York City. Professor Mark R. Russell remembers Fred as the NYC trip guide: “I can attest to how much Fred enjoyed the New York trip over the many years that we shared that experience. He was always so enthusiastic and, whether it was over the bus microphone or touring on foot, was a constant and often very funny guide and commentator. He loved to share his extensive knowledge of the city. In the MET, he took students straight to the Egyptian collection, which was his passion, and he loved lunch in Chinatown. I think these things are what I most fondly remember about Fred.”

A vast knowledge and interests that have no bound

To many colleagues and students, Fred’s vast knowledge and interests seemed to have no bounds. Professor Geoff Fidler (retired) recalls discovering shared musical interests with Fred. “As a former Fellow of the LAC, I was Fred's colleague, fellow historian, and teacher for several decades at the college. A devoted teacher and scholar of Renaissance Italy, he never failed to impress, and often enlighten us all, by the range and depth of his learning and reading. Something I didn't know, though, until he once told me: Fred loved opera. I recall his saying in a confiding sort of sotto voce way, that his favourite — suitably Italian — was Puccini's Madama Butterfly. He'd recently been captivated, left speechless almost (not Fred's habitual state), by the film version of that opera made in 1995 (directed by Frédéric Mitterand, nephew of the former French president). It had marked the start of an international career for the then twenty-seven-year-old Chinese lyric soprano Ying Huang in the lead role. The event no doubt reinforced Fred's wish, as I like to think, that students might likewise experience the beauty of great opera, and its ability to move us, sometimes even transform our lives.”

A remarkable charm and sense of humour

Fred also had a remarkable charm and sense of humour, recalls retired Professor Tobias Gittes: “Twenty, or so, years after Christ’s death, Paul declared himself the last of the apostles; four centuries, or so, after knight errantry had come to an end, Don Quixote had himself dubbed and took to the field; and five hundred, or so, years after Renaissance Humanism had reached its peak, Fred Krantz conjured it back to life, becoming an incunabulum-riffling member of the humanist confraternity. This, at least, is how I saw Fred, a sort of walking anachronism, as full of wit and epigrammatic wisdom as Erasmus, moving easily between Latin and Italian, but also — and in this particular trait he out-Picoed Pico — Yiddish! It is no wonder that, when meditating on the metaphysical destiny of Gefilte fish, I turned not to Plato, Paul, or Dante, but Fred. Fred’s otherworld destiny is more easily determined. Without question, he has a well-deserved chair at that eternal banquet imagined by Dante in his Convivio, where the company consists of sages and the food of knowledge: ‘Blessed the few who sit at the table where the bread of angels is eaten.’  Buon appetito!”

A dear friend

Finally, to many former students and faculty at the LAC, Fred was a dear friend. Julie Amblard reflects on the 47 years of friendship and inspiration: “I feel honored and privileged to have known him, and I am forever grateful for his friendship and the depth of insight he shared.” Professor Eric Buzzetti recalls the joys of that friendship: “Frederick Krantz was my colleague and mentor at the Liberal Arts College, where I taught for almost 20 years. Above all, he was my friend. In an academic world dominated by specialists and corrupted by doctrinaires and political activists, Fred embodied what a liberal education at its best means. He was an open-minded scholar, a man of sober judgment, possessed of the courage to speak the unpopular truth, universal in his concerns and yet capable of loving the here and now. No field of serious human endeavor was beyond his curiosity. Fred could extemporize an engaging lecture on Dante’s Divine Comedy (in Italian) just as easily as he might analyze Winston Churchill’s leadership in WWII or dissect the character of Christian antisemitism in the Middle Ages. Yet as I gather my memories of him, what comes to mind first are our weekly conversations, just the two of us in his office, whose walls were covered with books. These conversations were not about the big things or the big ideas of the world, but mostly about the small yet all-important stuff of everyday life — about his friends and family, the achievements of his kids and grand-children, about how lucky he was to have married his sweetheart Lenore. Then there were the legends connected with the co-founding (with Harvey Shulman) of the Liberal Arts College. Fred was a born storyteller who delighted you even as you knew that he was beautifying the truth a little. And the jokes, of course, who can forget the jokes? What would I not give to hear his voice, just one more time, tell one of his trademark jokes — typically, an irreverent tale developing a Jewish theme — a joke he would have told a thousand times before, reimagining it ever again in a thousand new ways? I miss your voice, Fred, and I miss your laughter.”

May his memory be a blessing.



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