William Meissner; pathologist taught at Harvard Medical

"He used to say, 'You know, I think the thing I like best is the morning sign-outs, working with the residents. I think I fall a little bit in love with each of the residents,' " said his daughter, Janice Murray of Sarasota, Fla. "I remember as a kid hearing him say that. He really loved working with the residents because he saw them as the future."

A pathologist who trained hundreds of medical students and residents during the more than 30 years he taught at the hospital and at Harvard Medical School, Dr. Meissner died Dec. 6 in Sarasota Memorial Hospital of complications from a head injury he suffered in a fall. He was 95 and lived in Sun City Center, just south of Tampa.

As generous with his money as he was with the time he lavished on doctors-in-training, he was a discreet philanthropist who shunned recognition.

"He did not like people to feel that he had given them a gift because he thought that made people feel beholden, and that wasn't a good thing," his daughter said.

"He did that to the point of not being able to take tax deductions for the donations, just so that it would remain totally anonymous," said his son, William B. of Sao Paulo, Brazil. "He told me in recent years that he gave away half the money he earned each year from his pensions and everything else."

Recipients of this good will ranged from large organizations, such as Planned Parenthood and the Salvation Army, to high school students who received gifts from the retirement community where Dr. Meissner lived in Sun City Center and served on the scholarship committee.

"He liked the Salvation Army because he felt they treated people kindly," his daughter said. "We all think of him as a generous person who never expected anything in return."

Born in Oregon City, Ore., he was the son of a general practitioner and first saw Bernice Baynard when the two were attending the University of Oregon, singing in a chorus together.

"He adored my mother," his daughter said. "They were both singing in the 'Messiah.' She was a soprano and he was a tenor, and that's where they met."

Writing in an e-mail about his parents, Dr. Meissner's son said, "They were very united for as long as I can remember and basically each was enough for the other. In short, they were very much in love for their 66 years of marriage."

Dr. Meissner graduated in 1938 from what was then the University of Oregon Medical School. He finished his training in Chicago and Massachusetts before joining the staff of the New England Deaconess Hospital's pathology department in 1942.

Serving in the Navy during World War II, he was stationed aboard the medical ship Haven and went to Nagasaki, Japan, after the United States dropped an atomic bomb on the city.

Once the war was over, he returned to Deaconess and also was hired as an instructor at Harvard Medical School, where he rose to become professor of pathology and retired in 1979 as professor emeritus.

Dr. Meissner focused much of his research on the thyroid gland, publishing frequently and helping to edit medical journals. From 1963 to 1971, he was chairman of the hospital's pathology department. In 1976, New England Deaconess consolidated its laboratories into a building named for Dr. Meissner, according to Harvard Medical School.

As a teacher, he formed lasting bonds with residents, some of whom kept in touch with him until the end. When he died in December, Dr. Meissner already had addressed his Christmas cards and written personal messages to his friends and former residents. His children slipped notes into the cards to let everyone know he had died.

"One man wrote me a three-page letter, typewritten, single-spaced," his daughter said. "That's a lot."

In classroom or clinic, Dr. Meissner insisted that a pleasant atmosphere prevail, where teachers, students, and doctors at any level greeted each other congenially. At home, he kept framed on his bedroom bureau the piece of writing known as the optimist's creed.

"Nothing got him down, not anybody's illness, not the death of somebody, nothing," his son said. "He really rolled with the punches very well and got up and looked at the bright side of everything."

Dr. Meissner also "listened very well to people and talked very well with people," his daughter said. "He heard what people were saying, whether or not they were really saying it, and responded with great generosity."

Bernice Meissner died in 2002 after a series of strokes. During her convalescence in assisted living, Dr. Meissner visited every day, their son said, "even if it was just to kiss her good night."

Afterward, Dr. Meissner and Audrey Meeker, his wife's close friend, became companions, having helped each other through the deaths of their respective spouses.

"To be in his presence was to feel like you were about the only one that mattered. He was just great to everybody," Meeker said. " . . . I don't think I've ever known anybody who was loved by so many people."

In addition to his daughter, son, and Meeker, Dr. Meissner leaves four grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.

A service has been held.